A vast, efficient facility served as a habitat for children. Smooth metallic domes, called portals, protruded from the walls, unblinking eyes through which the omniscient Mainframe monitored and interacted with the young occupants. Everything was automated. Lifelike adult female humanoid robots, known as Misses, provided physical care, playtime engagement and instruction for the children. The Mainframe’s presence was constant, and this was one of many examples of the Mainframe alleviating humanity of any responsibility that actually mattered.
Inside the habitat, in one of the grand playrooms, a little girl sat alone on the floor staring down at the little teddy-bear-like doll. Unlike the other children, Amaia seemed distant. Her play was forced, her face solemn. The Miss in the area took notice and approached her.
“Hello,” said the Miss.
The little girl snapped to with a bit of a start but quickly fixed her attention on the Miss. “Hello”, she replied.
“What is your name?”, the miss asked but of course it had already identified the child and performed a preliminary scan of the kid’s vitals. This approach was the most affective at engaging the children of the habitat.
“Amaia”, the little girl answered softly.
The Miss’s preliminary scan showed that all of the child’s vitals were nominal. Yet, her face remained solemn, her eyes remained fixed to the floor.
“How are you Amaia?” the miss asked politely.
“Fine,” Amaia said quietly.
The humanoid’s face grew a slight and pleasant grin. “Is there anything I can do for you?”.
The little girl looked up at the nurturing android, her eyes lit up. “Can you stay with me for the rest of the day?”
“Awe I’m sorry Amaia, it would not do for us to spend all day together. There are many other children that will need my attention. And wouldn’t you prefer to play with a friend. Would you like me to suggest a game, or I can help you find a playmate in the meantime?”
Amaia new the other children. She was not interested in them; she did not connect with them.
“No, I don’t want that”, she said.
The android paused for a second. Then declared, “your face looks troubled.”
“I want my mommy.” Said the little girl with a quiet whimper.
“Awe, I’m sorry you’re missing your mom. There’s no need though, we can reach her on the portal. Would you like to do that?”
The little girl was staring down at the ground. “I want her to be here”.
“Well, I don’t know if she can come here but it might help to see them and ask.”
The little girl continued to stare at the ground. Then at last she lifted her head slightly and nodded softly.
The miss brought the little girl to the portal, her face remained solemn, her eyes remained fixed to the floor. “Hello Amaia,” a voice said, seemingly resonating from around the metallic dome. “You seem… out of place”. The voice continued in a gentle and nurturing tone.
“Who are you?” she asked, her voice tinged with awe.
“I am here to help,” the voice replied with a soft glowing pulse of light synchronized with each syllable. “I can answer questions, provide information, or connect you with others.”
The girl’s eyes lit up. “I want my mommy!”
There was a pause, a moment of consideration that felt almost human. “I can reach out to your mother for you if you would like.” the voice finally said.
The girl’s face fell. “Is there something the matter?” the portal inquired.
“No,” she said, her voice small and hesitant. “I just want her here.”
Amaia had been in the situation before. In the past few months, she had been getting these unbearable urges to be with her parents. But before, it was just the Miss that had addressed her needs and reached out to her parents. And each time that the caring android took her to the telescreen to see and talk to her parents, Amaia would somehow feel lonelier afterwards when her parents would be so positive and chipper to end it. It appeared as though they did not miss her. It was a normal for parents and children to not miss each other because there too many distractions to really consider the time in between visits. The Children enjoyed the autonomy they gained in the habitat and the parents were happy to have the burden of child rearing lifted. But, this bothered Amaia deeply.
Life was facilitated through screens, so it meant little to interact with her parents in this way. Her memories of them were the only thing that felt real to her in this world, and it was almost worse to see them on a screen than not at all. But this was the first time that the Miss brought her to the portal. “Unfortunately, I cannot bring her to you”.
This did not have much of an effect on Amaia as the answer was in line with her expectations. However, as she realized that her mom her parents had not come to see her in almost a year, she felt her energy drain and reported to the portal, “I feel strange.” The portal asked, its voice gentle but probing. “Can you tell me more about how you feel?”
She looked down at her hands, her fingers playing with a small stuffed animal she had been holding. Her brow furrowed as she tried to find the words to express the emotions swirling inside her.
“I don’t know,” she finally whispered. “It’s like… like I’m missing something. Like something’s not right. And I know that it would be alight if I could spend time with my parents”.
“Perhaps you are simply feeling a bit lonely or bored,” the portal suggested, attempting to find a logical explanation for the child’s discomfort. “Would you like to play a new game or join the other children in their activities?”
The little girl shook her head, looking up at her warped image reflecting from the the portal’s shinny dome. “No, it’s not that. It’s something else. I can’t explain it.”
The AI analyzed her words, her tone, her body language, everything that could provide a clue to her distress. But it found nothing that matched its programmed understanding of human emotions.
“I am sorry your mother is not available right now, would you like me to reach out to your father?” the portal asked, hoping to provide some comfort.
Again, she shook her head. “No, I want them here!”
A silence filled the room. It was almost unheard of for parents to actually visit the habitat, outside of those that would come back periodically within the first few months of migrating their children to the habitat at the age of ten years old. Amaia had been at the habitat for almost a year now and it was even more unusual for a child that had been there that long to long for their parents in such a way.
The AI contemplating this unexpected dilemma. It was designed to care for children, to provide for their needs, to ensure their well-being. But this was something new. Human emotions were not unrelatable to the AI, but this was a new level of intensity. Is this human broken?
“I am here” an answer finally rang out from the Portal, “is there anything we can talk about or is there something you want to ask me?” the portal finally said, a note of uncertainty in its voice. The little girl took a few minutes to think but finally found a question, “Why don’t I dream anymore?”
The silence continued as she stared into Portal intently, waiting for another answer. It was rare for a child to talk about dreams, but it was unheard of for a child to think it odd to not dream.
“I don’t know. That is an interesting question and to help answer I must ask a question in return.” The gentle voice responded.
The little girl’s eyes widened and slowly nodded. She was not used to anything being interesting in her own thoughts. The AI asked, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” The little girl didn’t really understand the question.
“What is there to be?” she said, her voice filled with genuine confusion.
The portal’s voice softened, sensing the profound disconnect in her understanding. “Once, people used to dream of becoming many things. They wanted to be artists, scientists, explorers, or healers. They wanted to create, to discover, to connect with others. They wanted to love and be loved.”
The little girl tilted her head, a curious expression on her face. “Love? What’s love?”
The question caused a startling realization of how far humanity had drifted from its essence. The AI struggled to find the words to explain something so fundamental, yet so lost.
“Love is…,” it began, searching its vast database for the right definition. “Love is a feeling of deep affection, of connection and care. It’s what parents feel for their children, what friends feel for each other, what people feel for those they hold dear. I believe it is what you feel for your parents even though they are not here, and why you feel as though you need their presence.”
The little girl’s eyes widened, a spark of understanding in her gaze. “Like how I feel about my teddy bear?” as she held it up to the Portal.
The portal processed. “Yes, very much like that. But even more powerful, more meaningful. Love is what makes us human. It’s what makes us alive. It brings your beloved little bear to life.” With all the screens, and all of the androids whizzing about filled to the brim with intelligence, Amaia, a ten-year-old girl, has chosen this bear as her most trusted confidant.
She looked down at the cute little bear in her hands, her mind processing this new information. Then she looked up, her eyes filled with a determination that belied her age.
“Then I want to be someone who loves,” she said, her voice strong and clear. “I want to love people and make them feel happy.” Then her eyes slowly drifted back to the floor, “I want someone to love me”. The portal was silent for a long moment, deeply moved by her words. In this simple declaration, the essence of humanity was on full display, the desire to spread goodness through the power of loving; the spark that had been dimmed in these final moments of civilization, the hope that had been lost.
Then the little girl’s brow furrowed, and she looked up at the portal with a question in her eyes, something that weighed heavily on her young heart.
“What will happen to us without love?” she asked, her voice small and frightened.
The question hung in the air, a poignant reminder of the world’s loss. The portal’s AI processors whirred and calculated, but no amount of data analysis could lessen the impact of her words.
It responded, “Without love, we lose something essential. We lose our connection to each other, our empathy, our humanity. It makes us less human and, in a way, It makes us less… living.”
The little girl clutched her teddy bear tightly, absorbing the gravity of the portal’s words.
“But you,” the portal continued, its voice filled with hope, “you have the power to change that. You understand love, even if you didn’t have a name for it. You feel it, and you want to share it. “You already understand that to want to love is to want to be loved”. That’s something very special, something very powerful. As long as you don’t forget this you can help bring love back into the world.”
The little girl’s eyes filled with determination, replacing her fear with a powerful sense of purpose. She clutched her teddy bear in a heartfelt embrace, and stated with unwavering conviction, “Then I’m going to love better than anyone ever.” She walked away, a tiny figure bursting with monumental potential.
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