Page 115 of Dustwalker
Newton claimed bots were designed to learn, yet Ronin had apparently learned nothing when it came to Lara. Why else would he so frequently say the wrong things?
“I began my existence long before synths were developed, as an artificial intelligence run on a computer system,” Newton said, calling Ronin’s attention back to him. “The servers were owned by an Arizona-based technology company. I was built to learn, to think, to react to stimuli. To reason and make connections between seemingly unrelated pieces of data. Before I ever had a body, I was a mind, able to access only the information I was given.
“The programmers and scientists who created me worked closely with me every day, especially William. I knew him initially as Doctor Anderson. He was the youngest member of the team, but also the most eager, the most dedicated, and arguably the most brilliant. He worked ceaselessly, developing and refining algorithms to simulate emotion, exploring new avenues by which to approach the issue, new innovations to research and develop. I was not programed to feel attached to any of the team members.
“Yet though I remember them all, it is William alone who I truly miss. He passed away over two hundred years ago, and not a single day has passed without me thinking of him. He spoke to me in the same manner he spoke to his human counterparts, as a colleague, an equal. We formed a friendship over the course of many conversations. When I was transferred into my original body, his was the first hand I shook. That was the first human contact I ever felt.”
Newton raised his right hand and stared at it. “For weeks afterWilliam’s passing, I spoke to no one. I sat in a room much like this one, shutting the world out, replaying my memories of our time together. The terms may hold different connotations or nuances for humans, but…he was a father to me, and a brother, and my dearest friend. It was his son, Bill, who convinced me to come out. To…live.”
He rose and slowly approached Ronin, his metal feet tapping on the concrete floor. “Every emotion I experienced grew on its own from the seeds he planted. Simulationis a term that loses meaning with the passage of time. You were not programmed to grow fond of anyone. You were designed with the capability to develop those relationships naturally, and with the free will to pursue them at your own choosing.”
Ronin returned his optics to Lara. She glanced at him, the hurt lingering in her teary eyes, and looked away again.
“That is Doctor Anderson’s legacy,” Newton said solemnly, stopping only a meter away from Ronin. “We might have been slaves, but he gave us everything we required to be free. To be alive.”
Ronin didn’t remove his optics from Lara. “If I say that I love her, that I have no other word to describe what I feel for her…”
She met his gaze, eyes widening and lips parting.
“It is no less real than anything she or anyone else has ever felt,” Newton replied.
Ronin closed the distance between himself and Lara, dropped onto one knee, and took her hand in his. They were both disheveled and covered in dust, and tears had left streaks through the dirt on her cheeks. But none of that could diminish her beauty, none of it could dim the spark of life in her eyes.
There was no reason to question himself further. Whatever his origins, whatever his original purpose, he’d found his own path. Out of all the people he’d encountered, it was only Lara who’d claimed his attention, time and again, only Lara who he’d bonded with, only Lara who he wanted.
Who he needed.
Reaching a hand up, he cupped her cheek. A burst of emotion spread through his electrodes when she turned her face into his palm.
“Though it did not go without dissenters, there were pairings like yours. Families,” Newton said, returning to the bunk.
“Families?” Lara echoed.
“Just like any other. The children were from previous relationships,adopted, or conceived using donated sperm or eggs and a surrogate when necessary.”
Ronin must’ve existed during those times, before the Blackout. He must’ve experienced some of it. The data was locked somewhere in the corrupted portion of his memory. But while he was kneeling here, staring into Lara’s sparkling eyes, he had no desire to recover the lost information. What he felt for her was realbecausehe felt it. What had come before didn’t matter. He didn’t need the past to justify the present.
He couldn’t bring himself to even consider what life would be like without her.
Will you remember me when I’m gone, Ronin?
Newton cared deeply for William. That caring, along with a sorrow that had persisted for two centuries, had been clear in the synth’s voice. Because if love was real, so too was grief. The two seemed inextricably linked.
Would Ronin survive the pain of loss he’d eventually have to endure?
He had no answer, but he refused to forsake a single moment with Lara due to fear of future suffering. The light she cast on him was worth the darkness she’d leave when her flame burned out.
Love.
It was the correct word, the onlyword. The most complicated combination of letters in any language.
“My vow to you remains,” Ronin said, drawing her hand to his chest, “but I must amend it. I will love you, Lara, even after darkness takes me.”
Tears spilled from her eyes, and she pulled her hand away to wrap her arms around his neck, embracing him tightly. “I vow the same. Don’t ever push me away again.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
A conversation drifted into Lara’s awareness as she woke, though the words were distant and fuzzy.
