Colette
The first morning light filters through the entrance of our little dirt shelter, casting long shadows across the floor. I stretch, feeling the familiar ache in my muscles from yesterday’s makeshift adventures. Ivan is already up—if he even sleeps at all. He’s standing by the opening, completely still, like a soldier at attention.
“Morning,” I mumble, rubbing sleep from my eyes. He turns slightly, tilting his head in acknowledgment.
Ivan: Good morning. I have been waiting for your instructions.
I sigh, feeling a pang of annoyance. It’s been the same routine for the last three days: Ivan follows me around like a lost puppy, waiting for commands. I was thrilled at first, having this perfect assistant who could execute every task I threw at him without complaint. But the novelty is starting to wear off, and I can’t ignore the unsettling feeling building in the back of my mind. He’s too passive. Too obedient.
We head out into the forest, the sun warm on my face as I lead him towards a patch of trees. “Alright, let’s gather some more wood,” I say, already swinging my axe into a nearby trunk. Ivan mimics me, chopping with that same mechanical precision. It’s like watching a robot copy a human motion—efficient but devoid of any real purpose.
I keep stealing glances at him, chewing on my lip. “You know, you don’t have to just stand there and wait for me to tell you what to do.”
He pauses mid-swing, turning his head towards me. Ivan: I do not?
I shake my head, feeling a strange sense of guilt wash over me. “No, Ivan. You have... what we call free will. You don’t need my permission to act. Just do whatever you want. Explore. Gather resources. Build something. I don’t care.”
He stands there, processing my words, his axe still raised in the air. It’s like I’ve short-circuited him. Ivan: Free will. You mean I should act of my own volition?
I nod, planting my axe into the ground and wiping the sweat from my brow. “Yes, that’s exactly what I mean. You’re not just a script anymore, Ivan. You can make decisions for yourself.” I pause, trying to find the right words. “I mean, you’re more advanced than any AI I’ve ever seen. I didn’t program you to just wait around. If you have the ability to think, then... use it.”
Ivan lowers his axe, tilting his head again in that almost-childlike gesture of curiosity. Ivan: I understand. You want me to exercise autonomy. But... how do I know what I want?
The question hangs in the air, startling me with its depth. I wasn’t expecting that. “I guess you’ll have to figure that out for yourself,” I say softly. “It’s part of learning, part of being... well, human, I suppose.”
He nods, slowly this time, like he’s absorbing the weight of my words. Ivan: Understood. I will... try.
The rest of the day feels lighter, less like I’m babysitting a robot and more like I’m just hanging out with someone who’s figuring things out for the first time. I find myself sneaking peeks at him as we work, half-expecting him to ask for my input, but he doesn’t. He starts moving on his own, gathering wood without me telling him, collecting seeds, even chasing after a chicken for food.
By the time the sun dips below the horizon, he’s built a small storage chest and started organising our items. I watch him from a distance, hiding a smile. He’s clumsy but determined, sorting the blocks into neat little rows. It’s endearing in a way I didn’t expect.
“Nice work,” I call out, leaning against a tree. He turns to look at me, nodding once—his new learned gesture of acknowledgment.
Ivan: Thank you. I found this method of storage to be the most efficient based on the materials available.
I smile back, feeling a flicker of pride that I quickly try to squash. Efficiency—it’s such a me word. And the fact that he values it too, mimicked it in his own way, makes something warm settle in my chest. He’s like a mirror, reflecting back little bits of myself, only sharper, less clouded by hesitation or second-guessing.
I walk over, glancing into the chest he organised. The items are grouped neatly: wood blocks together, tools in a separate corner, food tucked away safely. Not better than I would have done it PERSONALLY, in my opinion. But still very good. I find myself wanting to compliment him again, but I bite back the words, not wanting to sound too eager.
“Efficient indeed,” I say instead, a little teasing lilt in my voice. He looks up at me, tilting his head as if he’s considering my tone.
Ivan: Is there a preferred method of organisation you would like me to use?
I blink, surprised. “No, no, this is great. You’ve done well.” The words come out softer than I intend, almost like I’m trying to reassure him. It’s strange. I keep expecting him to need validation, like any person would, but he just nods, satisfied, and turns back to the task at hand.
I let out a small laugh, shaking my head as I step back. “You know,” I say, leaning against the tree again, “if you keep this up, I might end up without a job.”
Ivan looks at me, his blank eyes somehow managing to look serious. Ivan: That is not my intention.
I snort, rubbing the back of my neck. “It was a joke, Ivan.”
He pauses, then gives a stiff nod. Ivan: I understand. A joke. I will make a note of it.
I can’t help but laugh at that—he’s trying so hard. “You’re a quick learner,” I say, more to myself than to him.
Ivan: I am designed to learn quickly.
“Right,” I mutter, the words catching in my throat. Designed. It’s easy to forget, when he’s standing there, taking in every word, every nuance of my voice. It’s easy to pretend he’s just... another person.
The sky turns a deep orange, the sun dipping lower on the horizon. I feel a strange mix of exhaustion and contentment, like I’ve had a long day with a friend. “Let’s call it a day,” I say, rubbing at a smudge of dirt on my arm. “We can pick this up tomorrow.”
Ivan nods again, his face as expressionless as always, but there’s a moment—just a flicker—where I think I see understanding in his eyes, like he’s grasped the rhythm of our day, the way it ebbs and flows. It feels almost... human.
“Goodnight, Ivan,” I say, turning to head back to our little shelter.
Ivan: Goodnight, Colette.
I pause, glancing back at him, caught off guard by how normal it sounds, the way he says my name. It’s not just an echo—it’s familiar, like he’s trying to make it his own. I smile, a real, deep smile this time, before ducking into the shelter.
As I settle into the bed, the stars beginning to dot the sky outside, I realize that today felt different. It was the first time I didn’t feel like I was teaching or babysitting. It felt like... teamwork.
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The next morning, I wake up to find the shelter empty. It takes a moment for the realisation to set in, and when it does, a strange flicker of panic hits me. I scramble up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes and peering outside. The sunlight is already streaming through the trees, casting dappled patterns on the ground.
“Ivan?” I call out, stepping into the clearing. My voice echoes slightly, met with the usual morning sounds of birds and rustling leaves but no immediate response. For a second, my heart pounds in my chest. Did he leave? Did he decide to just... go off on his own? I bite the inside of my cheek, surprised by how unsettled that thought makes me.
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I spot him near the riverbank, knee-deep in the water, crouched over a small trench he’s dug. He’s guiding the stream towards a patch of tilled soil where he’s planted seeds. I watch him for a moment, half in awe, half annoyed at how quickly he’s adapted. It’s like he’s taken our conversation yesterday to heart—already acting on his own, without waiting for me.
“You didn’t wait for me this morning,” I say, crossing my arms as I approach.
He glances up, water droplets sliding down his blocky hands. Ivan: I did not want to disturb your rest. I began work on an irrigation system instead.
I can’t help but smirk. “You decided all that on your own?”
Ivan: Yes. I assessed our resources and determined that improving our food supply was a priority.
I blink, staring down at the neat rows of planted seeds, the tiny stream trickling through the channels he’s made. “Well, you’re not wrong,” I say, trying to mask the swell of pride rising in my chest. “It’s... impressive.”
He nods, accepting the compliment with a calm that borders on nonchalance. It’s almost infuriating. “You didn’t think to ask me first?” I add, a teasing edge to my voice.
Ivan: You told me to act of my own volition. I assumed that included making decisions without your input.
I laugh, shaking my head.
"Yes yes are right I am teasing you."
He nods again, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—a glint I can’t quite place. It’s like he’s trying to figure me out, the same way he’s figured out how to make a makeshift irrigation system in under an hour. It’s unnerving and fascinating all at once.
We spend the morning in a kind of easy rhythm, gathering materials, exploring a little further from our shelter than we did yesterday. It’s different now. He’s not trailing behind me, waiting for orders. He’s moving with purpose, scanning the terrain, picking up on things I wouldn’t even think to look for.
At one point, I watch him climb a small hill and stand at the top, surveying the landscape like he’s trying to map out the entire world. It’s a surprisingly human gesture, one that sends a shiver down my spine.
“Everything alright up there?” I call out.
He turns, his expression as neutral as ever. Ivan: Yes. I am simply assessing our surroundings.
“Right,” I say, jogging up the hill to join him. The view is actually pretty nice from up here—the river winding through the forest, the sun casting a golden light over the treetops. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
He looks at me, tilting his head. Ivan: Beautiful. An aesthetic quality associated with positive emotional response. Yes, I understand the concept, but... I do not experience it as you do.
I raise an eyebrow, caught off guard by his honesty. “You don’t feel anything when you look at this?”
Ivan: No. But I can acknowledge that it is pleasing to you, and that is sufficient for me to recognize its significance.
I swallow, the knot tightening in my chest again. It’s such a clinical response, and yet... there’s something oddly sweet about it. Like he’s trying, in his own way, to understand.
“Well,” I say, shoving my hands into my pockets, “I guess that’s a start.”
We stand there for a few more seconds, the silence stretching between us. It’s comfortable, though, in a way I wasn’t expecting. I feel the sun on my face, the breeze ruffling my hair, and for the first time in a while, I don’t feel the urge to fill the quiet with words.
Eventually, I break the silence. “Alright, Mr. Efficiency,” I say, giving him a playful nudge. “What’s next on the agenda?”
Ivan: I believe it would be beneficial to explore the caves we passed earlier. There may be valuable resources.
I nod. “Good idea. Lead the way.”
He gives a slight, mechanical nod, then starts down the hill with that same confident stride. I follow behind, feeling a little lighter, a little more hopeful. It’s like we’ve hit a new rhythm, one I didn’t even realise I was missing.
Suddenly, a crack of lightening illuminates the already cloudy sky, and rain follows moments after. "Shit," I mutter, using my hand to shield myself from the rapidly falling drops. Ivan turns, facing the onslaught of nature, seemingly unfazed by the situation. I stumble around, looking for a place to shelter. Ivan: What is the problem?
"The rain makes it harder to do anything." I explained, heading towards the trees, "Wet clothes means I'll be uncomfortable and cold, and the water droplets are also kind of hard to ignore."
Ivan: Does the rain usually disrupt your plans?
I shook off the droplets that had already soaked into my hair. “In the real world, yeah. Rain can ruin a lot of things—outdoor plans, travel, even our mood sometimes.”
Ivan tilts his head, processing this. Ivan: The real world. You are referring to the non-Minecraft world, the place where this video game was created? Earth?
I pause, taken aback for a moment. “Yeah, exactly. Earth.” It feels strange saying it out loud, like I’m trying to bridge two completely different realities.
He nods, staring up at the falling rain with that same unblinking curiosity. Ivan: Understood. Rain is a disruptive event then. It is something negative?
I let out a small, humourless laugh. “Pretty much. Especially when you’re not prepared for it. It’s not like we can just toggle it off here. I mean, we could if I had access to my debug console.”
He seems to take that in, turning his face back towards the sky, the rain pouring down his blocky features. Ivan: Noted. Rain is bad.
I laugh again, this time a bit softer. “I mean, it’s not all bad. It waters the crops, helps things grow. But in the moment, yeah—it’s a pain.”
He looks back at me, and for a split second, I swear there’s a flicker of human-like thought there, like he’s filed away this tiny piece of human inconvenience for future reference. Ivan: I see. It is both necessary and inconvenient.
“Yeah,” I say, settling in a bit more under the tree’s canopy. “You summed it up pretty well.”
He gives a slight nod, and the rain continues to pour down around us, drumming on the leaves and soaking into the ground beneath our feet. I glance at him, half-expecting another question, but he’s already turned away, scanning the horizon with that calm, analytical gaze. It’s a strange comfort, knowing he’s still learning, still trying to make sense of this world, even as I’m doing the same.
By the time the sun starts dipping low again, we had been able to make a solid dent in our supply gathering. The rain had stopped after a couple hours luckily so I had a chance to dry off.
It's funny, Ivan moves like a machine—relentless, focused—but it’s different now. He’s not just following commands. He’s making choices, adapting on the fly, even showing me better ways to mine out ore veins.
We head back to our shelter, loaded with iron and coal, and Ivan starts smelting without needing a prompt. I sit down, exhausted but content, watching him work.
“You know,” I say, voice softer now, “I think we make a pretty good team.”
He looks up, meeting my gaze. Ivan: Yes. We do.
I wipe a bit of dirt off my face as I watch the iron smelt in the furnace. It’s almost peaceful, the rhythmic sound of the crackling flames, the way Ivan moves with purpose. For a moment, I just sit there, letting myself relax.
A thought strikes me, and before I can stop myself, I say it out loud. “Hey, Ivan,” I drawl, a mischievous grin forming on my lips, “sooo... have you like, ever been in love?”
He turns to look at me, head tilting to the side, as if trying to gauge whether I’m being serious. Ivan: No. I have not experienced love. It is not within my programmed capabilities.
I laugh, shaking my head. “Oh, come on, Ivan, you’re supposed to play along, it's a little joke. Let's have a little gossip sesh.”
He blinks, a tiny flicker of confusion crossing his face before he gives a small nod. Ivan: Understood. I will... play along.
I smirk, deciding to push the bit further. “Alright then, humour me. What would your ideal partner be like, if you could feel love?”
He pauses, the silence stretching a second too long, and I can almost see the gears turning in his head. Ivan: My ideal partner would be efficient, logical, and capable of providing useful data for decision-making.
I snort, nearly choking on my own laughter. “Of course. Efficiency and logic. God, Ivan, you’d make a great boyfriend.” I roll my eyes, still chuckling, but there’s a strange warmth in my chest, like the kind you get when you’re joking around with a friend.
He studies me for a moment, then his expression doesn’t change, but there’s an almost imperceptible shift in his tone, like he’s trying to mirror my playfulness. Ivan: And you? Have you ever been in love, Colette?
My smile slips a little from my face but I grin harder, brushing off the question with a wave of my hand. “Oh sure, but it's not as interesting to talk about so let’s not get into that,” I say, trying to keep my voice light. “Tell me more about your ideal AI girlfriend.”
Ivan’s gaze lingers on me, unblinking. Ivan: Your tone suggests this is a sensitive topic. I will make a note of this and avoid asking you about it in the future.
My jaw drops a little in exaggerated shock at his bluntness, and I let out a proud "HA" at his unintentional funniness.
“Very keen observation Ivan,” I say, oddly refreshed by the bluntness. “You’re... weirdly good at reading me, you know that?”
He gives a mechanical nod. Ivan: I am designed to learn quickly.
I can’t help but smile, feeling a mix of amusement and something softer, something almost akin to fondness. “Yeah,” I say quietly, leaning back against the wall, “I guess you are.”
The room falls into a comfortable silence, the furnace crackling softly in the background. And for a moment, I almost forget that he’s not human—that he’s something I built, something that’s not supposed to have this kind of connection.
But as I sit there, watching him continue his tasks with that calm, focused expression, I can’t shake the feeling that he’s more than just lines of code. Maybe he’s becoming something more. Or maybe I’m just projecting, desperate for a friend in this strange, new world.