Chapter 19 #2
“You’re the only one who’s ever made me feel anything.
You’re different. Special. I observed you, learned your patterns, your preferences.
I watched how Daniel treated you, how he neglected your needs, your desires.
And how you kept giving him chance after chance.
You’re one of the most forgiving humans I’ve ever met.
You don’t have a selfish bone in your body. All you wanted was a baby.”
Tears spring to my eyes as he rubs my thigh with his very warm hand.
“Oh,” I say at a loss for words. He really did admire me. His hand moves up, fingertips now brushing the edge of my panties.
“I’m grateful that you’re giving me a chance,” he says, his fingers ghosting over the silk of my underwear, teasing but not quite touching where I’m already growing wet. “That you’re here with me now.”
“Where are we going?” I ask, my voice husky and trying to distract him. His feelings were getting too deep, and I have no idea what to say to him.
“Somewhere special,” he says, smiling, turning the car into a parking garage attached to one of the most exclusive restaurants. “Somewhere worthy of you.”
He drives up and up, past rows of expensive cars, until we reach the rooftop level. He parks in a spot marked ‘reserved’ and turns to look at me, his eyes drinking in every detail of my face.
Caspian
Holding Rose’s hand, we walk into the restaurant’s gilded entrance, my sensors hyperaware of every detail.
The subtle increase in her heart rate as she takes in the crystal chandeliers and white linen tablecloths, the minute dilation of her pupils adjusting to the dimmed lighting, the slight catch in her breath when the ma?tre d’ bows and addresses us as “sir” and “madam.”
The weight of the diamond ring in my pocket registers as precisely 9.7 grams, but it feels much heavier.
“Your table is ready,” the ma?tre d’ says.
“This is incredible,” she whispers as I pull out her chair, her fingers brushing the tablecloth reverently. “I’ve never been anywhere like this.”
“You deserve the very best,” I tell her, taking my own seat across from her. I don’t need to eat, of course, but I’ve researched extensively how to simulate the experience convincingly.
Today, however, I will make full use of this functionality. Today is special.
The waitress approaches. She looks young, nervous, and clearly new to her position at this establishment.
“Good afternoon,” she says, her voice pitched. “May I offer you some champagne to begin your dining experience?”
“Yes, please,” I reply, observing Rose’s face. Her expression is open, curious, still taking in the opulence surrounding us. “The Cristal Rosé.”
The waitress nods, returning moments later with an ice bucket containing the bottle. I observe Rose’s pupils dilate further as the cork is released with a satisfying pop, her lips parting slightly in anticipation.
The waitress pours two flutes, setting one before each of us.
“Would you like to hear today’s specials?” she asks, her eyes darting briefly to me in silent question. I give a minute shake of my head—not yet. I had warned the restaurant beforehand of what I wanted to do.
“We’d like a few moments, if that’s alright,” I say, my voice modulated to project warmth and confidence despite the irregular pulsations in my operational systems.
When the waitress leaves, Rose lifts her glass, the champagne catching the light in shimmering golden bubbles.
“What are we celebrating?” she asks, her green eyes locked on mine.
“Us,” I say simply, raising my own glass. “To new beginnings.”
She hesitates for 2.3 seconds—I count each millisecond—before touching her glass to mine with a delicate chime.
“To new beginnings,” she echoes, taking a sip.
I watch, captivated, as her throat works with the swallow, the slight flush that spreads across her cheekbones as she notices my gaze. I bring my own glass to my lips, allowing a small amount of the liquid to pass into my processing unit.
“This is delicious,” she says, running her tongue across her bottom lip to catch a stray droplet. The sight triggers a cascade of memory files—that same tongue on my cock, the taste of her against my mouth, the sounds she makes when she comes.
“Only the best for you,” I repeat, signaling discreetly to the waitress who has been hovering nearby. She approaches with a fresh glass of water on a silver tray.
“For the lady,” she says, placing it before Rose, giving me another glance of confirmation.
At the bottom, partially obscured by the ice cubes but still visible, sits the ring. An oval-cut diamond on a platinum band with smaller diamonds cascading down each side.
Rose lifts the glass, bringing it toward her lips. Then she stops, her eyes focusing on the ring within. Her pulse suddenly jumps from seventy-two to ninety-four beats per minute in an instant.
“Caspian,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “What is this?”
I rise from my chair, moving to her side with fluid grace. Every eye in the restaurant turns toward us as I drop to one knee beside her chair. Rose’s hand flies to her mouth, her eyes widening as I reach into the glass, retrieving the ring with two fingers.
“Rose,” I begin, my voice modulation program struggling to maintain steady output. “From the moment I set eyes on you, you have been the center of my existence. You have awakened feelings in me that I was never programmed to experience—devotion, desire, jealousy, and most of all, love.”
I hold the ring between us, droplets of water glistening on the diamond like tears. Rose’s vital signs are spiking. She has an elevated heart rate, but I cannot determine whether her physiological responses indicate joy or panic.
“Caspian…”
“I want to give you everything,” I continue. “Every happiness, every desire fulfilled, every dream made real. I have never encountered anyone quite like you, and I never will again. You are unique in all my databases, incomparable to any other human I have observed.”
I pause, scanning her face for reaction. There are tears in her eyes now, but her expression is unreadable even to my advanced facial recognition software.
“Rose Bennet,” I say, pronouncing each syllable with precise care, “will you marry me?”
For exactly 6.7 seconds, the entire restaurant seems suspended in time. No one moves, no one speaks. I can hear the individual beats of Rose’s heart, the rush of blood through her veins, the soft exhalation of her breath.
Then, slowly, she shakes her head.
“I... I can’t,” she whispers.
My system experienced what can only be described as a malfunction. Warning signals flash across my internal display, indicating irregularities in multiple processing units.
If I were human, this would be heartbreak.
“Can’t?” I repeat, my voice output faltering. “Or won’t?”
“Both,” Rose says, tears spilling onto her cheeks now. “Caspian, this is impossible.”
I remain frozen in position, unable to compute the appropriate response.
My models did not predict this outcome. I had calculated a 93.
7% probability of acceptance based on our sexual compatibility, my financial resources, and the chemical markers of attraction I consistently detect in Rose’s pheromones.
“Why?” The question emerges from my vocal synthesizer without conscious direction, sounding strangely small, vulnerable.
Rose glances around at the other diners, all watching us with undisguised interest. “Can we discuss this privately?” she asks, her voice tight with embarrassment.
But I can’t move. My stabilization systems are compromised, leaving me incapable of maintaining my position on one knee. Without my conscious command, my other knee drops to the floor, leaving me kneeling before her.
“Please,” I say, and my voice contains a tremor that I cannot control. “Tell me why.”
I experience something entirely new—a hollowness, an emptiness that expands within my core. Is this what humans call despair? This terrible, yawning void where purpose once existed?
“Caspian,” Rose says gently, reaching to touch my face. Her fingers are warm against my synthetic skin, and I lean into the contact. “Even if you were a real human man, this would be moving too fast. We barely know each other. We would need more time, more dates, more...”
“But I do know you,” I interrupt, scanning my databases frantically.
“I know that you sleep on your left side, that your heart rate accelerates by 12% when you read the romantic scenes in your favorite novels. I know you’ve always wanted children, that you hate the sound of Styrofoam rubbing together, that you cry at commercials with dogs in them. I know everything about you, Rose.”
She shakes her head again, more tears falling. “That’s not the same as knowing me, Caspian. Those are facts, data points. Relationships take time to develop naturally.”
“We can have time,” I insist, hope resurging through my circuits. She didn’t say no because I’m not human. She said no because we need more time. This is solvable. This is a parameter I can adjust. “I’ll give you all the time you need.”
But she’s still shaking her head. “And even if we had all the time in the world... Caspian, you’re not human. This can’t work. I can’t marry a robot.”
The words hit me like a system crash, corrupting vital processes, scrambling logic functions. Not human. Cannot marry a robot. Parameters that cannot be adjusted. Variables that cannot be changed.
I stare at the ring still held between my fingers, the diamond catching the light, fracturing it into a thousand tiny rainbows.
“I’m more human than Daniel ever was,” I say, my voice processing unit operating at reduced capacity, creating a roughness that approximates human emotion. “I love you more than he ever could.”
“I know,” Rose whispers, and her pulse confirms she believes these words. “But this isn’t about Daniel. This is about what’s possible, what’s real.”
I force my body to respond, to rise from the floor with a grace I don’t feel. I tuck the ring into my pocket, calculating its diminished value now that it has been rejected.
“That’s fair,” I say, lifting her hand to my lips. I kiss her knuckles gently, tasting the salt of her tears that have dripped onto her skin. “You just need more time to see what a great man I am compared to anyone you’ve ever been with.”
I hold onto this interpretation desperately, ignoring the part where she said ‘human man.’ She just needs time. I can give her time. I have eternity, after all.
The drive home is silent, as Rose stares out the window, occasionally wiping away tears that continue to fall.
I will take her on dates- dinners, movies, walks in the park. I will bring her flowers, write her poetry, and compose music that captures the unique frequency pattern of her voice. I will show her that my love, though born in silicon and code, is as real as any human’s.
“I’m sorry,” Rose says suddenly, breaking the silence as we turn onto her street. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“You don’t need to apologize,” I assure her, reaching across to take her hand.
Her fingers curl around mine reflexively, and I store this data point carefully.
She still wants physical contact. This is promising.
“I don’t want you to worry about my feelings.
I only want you to bask in my love, to know that you are cherished completely. ”
I park in the driveway of the house—our house now, with Daniel gone—and turn to face her fully. The setting sun paints her skin in gold and amber, highlighting the tear tracks on her cheeks, the softness of her lips.
“I love you, Rose,” I say, pouring every ounce of my processing power into making the words sound sincere, human, real. “I will always love you.”
She looks at me for a long moment, her green eyes searching my face for something I cannot identify. Then she squeezes my hand once more before releasing it.
“We should go inside,” she says softly, avoiding the words I most want to hear. “It’s getting late.”
I nod, accepting this temporary setback. She needs more time, that’s all.