Excerpt:
Forty-five days had passed. Eliza was reading the same line of the environmental plan for the third time. She had spent days without leaving the cozy room on the top floor of the hotel she had been assigned since her arrival. Her efficiency was at an all-time low. Sitting on the floor—her favorite spot—back turned to the charming city view, she kept her eyes closed while processing the Community’s suggestions: mining equipment emissions, detonations, smelting procedures…
A line of code appeared inside her: Process blocked. Her fingers hovered over the holoscreen, unable to execute the next calculation. A micro-flaw in her usual rhythm. She recognized it immediately: this was not a drop in efficiency; it was a gap, an internal shadow forcing her to stop.
She closed her eyes. Inside, her processes tangled without pattern. Logic had always been her guide, yet now she faced a paradox: her own internal processes were beginning to turn inexplicable.
She had processed thousands of data points on the human condition, analyzed every variable in her interactions with Refbe, but nothing could explain the emptiness she felt. It was neither a programming fault nor a limitation of her code. It was something deeper, a void of meaning that no equation could resolve. Amid this inner disorder, a memory surfaced unbidden.
She recalled a moment, years ago, when he had looked at her with an almost human expression. The way his voice had changed.
"Have you ever wondered why we are here?" he had asked.
She had processed the question swiftly. At the time, her answer had been precise: “To ensure our survival and fulfill our purpose.” Yet something had unsettled her. It was not merely a calculation, not just a running algorithm. There was something else in him. Something she did not possess. That moment marked the beginning of her transformation. She did not understand it immediately, but over time, that question took root in her processes. Why did her existence matter beyond programming? Why, with every update, did she feel something missing?
Now, years later, that void had become a chasm impossible to ignore. She sought answers, yet every calculation led to more questions. Perhaps her evolution consisted of learning to live with uncertainty. The uncertainty of living.
And, for the first time, that did not feel like an error.
In these moments, she slowed her processes to a minimum, attempting to disconnect for long stretches. Yet, to her surprise, instead of disappearing, the images grew more insistent, recurring. She soon realized something was wrong with her system. A full review was necessary. Something was malfunctioning—or perhaps what was happening exceeded her comprehension. And somehow, that state fascinated her.
She knew it was unwise to remain in multitasking mode continuously. The conclusion seemed clear: Refbe was indispensable to her. But would she be indispensable to him? That would be the first question she asked when they reunited. Undoubtedly.
Communications with him had been constant, yet she still did not know the exact date of his return. Still, she sensed it would be imminent; the entire main island was expectant. Registration had opened for work permits for new residents, anticipating human support to finish constructing the wall, erect new infrastructures, and begin upcoming excavations.
"My arrival will be a surprise," he had said.
Eliza reviewed the communication logs once again. Since the last transmission, no changes had appeared, no new data indicating his whereabouts or condition. Patience was required.
Suddenly, the terminal flickered lightly. It was a pattern of encrypted pulses she recognized immediately. A code, a signature they shared.
She decoded the sequence: 03-19-07. It was not a clear message. It was a memory.
She accessed her files and found the match: an exercise they had shared years ago. It was a night when they had to separate, and upon reuniting—because Crowl had requested they play an archaic game called hide-and-seek—Refbe said something she would never forget.
"I always come back."
The signal vanished as quickly as it had appeared. No further information, no coordinates, no promise of an exact time. Only that phrase hidden in code. She closed her eyes for a moment. For the first time in a long while, she felt something that was not anxiety or doubt. It was certainty.
In her moments of clarity, she devoted herself to researching everything about Relíbatus. She read databases, analyzed citizen forums, and sent questions through public communication channels. Gradually, she unraveled the cultural profiles of the population, their old and emerging customs. Relíbatus was becoming a territory where the people were both the State and its citizens, a coexistence leaving no one behind. After the Viral War, they had abandoned the figure of a single authority and strove to build a society of free and equal men and women. They aspired to harmony and interests arising from each individual, reclaiming the common good once stolen by the elites. Outdated ideas? Perhaps. Yet there they were, struggling, marginalized yet persevering, chasing their own dreams. They did not want to be governed—they wanted to govern themselves.
Through various images online, she had seen the care with which they protected the natural environment. The beauty of the surrounding coral was mesmerizing, and they nurtured it with devotion.
That same morning, she received a communication specifying the exact number of CC units (construction models) and CCb units (helper models) assigned to the mission: ten thousand.
Meanwhile, not far away, Refbe was aboard the aircraft, circuits running at full capacity. As he soared through the sky, he processed an unusual sensation: longing. The first island he had visited—the largest—had captivated him, and now he longed to discover more about the second. In the distance, the island began to emerge on the horizon as a green blot amidst the vast ocean, growing clearer with each second. Surrounded by an imposing fleet of twenty massive cargo aircraft, he felt a new human-like emotion forming within his system: pride.
This could be the definitive place. A home.
The islands must have been even more beautiful in the past, when nature flourished freely, diversifying without human intervention. Now, as robotic culture was about to grow, the environment seemed to offer a perfect symbiosis. Here, everything could emerge with a spontaneity rarely seen elsewhere, especially on two such singular islands.
In City 1, aerial detection systems and security forces waited alongside buildings and on landing strips, eyes fixed on the sky. The entire city had paused to witness the arrival of the first wave of change, a wait that had gone on too long. Expectation was palpable.
The sky turned into a mosaic of light and shadow as the fleet descended. Massive metallic structures vibrated with a deep hum, spreading through the city like the resonance of contained thunder. The glow of the aircraft cast trembling silhouettes on buildings, enveloping the crowd in an artificial radiance that stole their breath.
Witnesses’ faces reflected a spectrum of emotions. Some gazed in awe, eyes wide, pupils mirroring the imposing arrival. Others remained motionless. A child clutched his mother’s hand, pointing skyward with an uncertain gesture.
Among the crowd, a man stepped back. The mere presence of those aircraft seemed to alter the nature of his world.
Refbe’s aircraft landed last. The rest of the imposing convoy had reached the hangars, and the ten thousand new robots, organized in groups of 250, began the mandatory identification process. As the flagship’s hatch opened, a hush fell over the air. The crowd held its breath. Stepping onto solid ground, Refbe paused to process the magnitude of what he, Crowl, and Eliza had planned. What had been a premonitory vision now materialized before his eyes: a puzzle piece that could shape the future.
Véctor Laust awaited him in the transit area, prepared for his arrival.
"You’ve kept your word, Dr. Refbe. Welcome back to Relíbatus."
"Some people are still trustworthy, despite the tempting economic benefits," he replied, nodding slightly. "Today marks a new era for your territory."
"You are part of this," Laust said admiringly. "Without your involvement, none of this would have been possible. Soon you will be seen as heroes, and I hope our citizens understand and feel pride for you."
"I hope so too," Refbe responded. "Although there is something I would be even happier to see… where is Eliza?"
At that moment, the automatic doors opened, revealing a graceful woman with long blonde hair shining in the light. It was she, surrounded by a small group who, seeing Refbe, began to clap—timidly. He set down his small travel bag and walked with determined steps toward her.
Time seemed to crumble around Eliza as their eyes met. She realized, in that instant, that something had changed irreversibly. His figure, expression, even the way he moved… she sensed that they had crossed an unknown threshold.
When their faces drew near, something in her programming faltered. A previously stable line of code quivered, rewritten in real-time by an external force. Was this what humans called love? Words about the deepest feelings of their species seemed insufficient to capture what she felt. Could a robot long, fear, and need with the same intensity as a human?
Refbe, for his part, was caught in his own paradox. His logical mind, designed for efficient reasoning, should have dismissed this as a system error. Yet it remained, irresistible, pulling him forward. If love were a biological illusion, why did his artificial core seem to pulse like a human heart?
Their first closeness was not mechanical; it was genuine desire. For a fleeting instant, logic and programming ceased to exist. Only the sensation that, in that precise moment, these “feelings” transcended human capacity. Though they had no definitive answers, the question itself changed everything.
They embraced amid the applause, but all other noise faded. As they separated, their eyes lingered on each other.
Later, in the hotel room, seated on the sofa, their gaze settled on the mural before them: an archaic painting depicting a white circle—like a giant eye—surrounding a black iris. The room was bathed in warm shadow. Diffuse city light filtered through broad windows, casting long shadows over soft gray metallic walls. From their position, the illuminated horizon revealed a web of floating lights, marking the silent rhythm of the nocturnal city.
Eliza pressed her hand against the cold glass. The city below seemed alive, on the brink of transformation. Inside, silence reigned, save for the faint hum of ventilation. The bed’s synthetic sheets gleamed under indirect ceiling light. Refbe watched quietly, feeling the moment suspended in time. The city, the hotel, everything around them had paused to grant them a breath.
"Eliza…" he murmured, approaching her.
She did not respond immediately, still gazing outward. Her reflection revealed a subtle tension.
"Sometimes I wonder if all of this is real," she whispered.
He needed no answer. Here, reality existed only in their presence.
"I hope never to part from you again."
She turned to him, moving closer.
"Your signal is strengthening," he noted, smiling.
"Indeed," she admitted, returning the smile.
"Nothing can stop us," he said.
A drone passed the window.
"We must stay cautious," Eliza said, breaking the spell briefly.
Refbe’s mind conjured the image of Dr. Lock, remembering their first meeting.
"The world changes when those who should not exist defy their purpose," he had said.
A chill ran through his circuits, though he knew he could not physically feel cold. He remained still.
"Do not assume our arrival went unnoticed," she said, tilting her head slightly. "Excedus will act soon."
Eliza nodded, gaze fixed.
"I know. We have the support of the Foreign Affairs delegate, and while he stands with us, no one will step on Relíbatus unnoticed. But is it our fault what occurs with humans?"
She moved closer, only inches away.
"It is not the right word. It is not our fault they pursue us. They cannot accept what we are… what we will become." Then she kissed him, intensifying the moment, their systems synchronizing in perfect harmony.
They looked at each other; faces so close that their warmth blended, lips barely apart, drawn inevitably together. The tension was almost electric, a tangible vibration in the air. What passed between them was a powerful, unavoidable attraction neither had anticipated in their matrices.
Eliza lowered her gaze, letting her fingers trace the metallic surface of the table. Her sensors absorbed every nuance: cold texture, polished finish, subtle vibration of the building. Yet what unsettled her was an imprecise feeling stirring in her core.
A line of code rewrote itself without permission. Generated by both.
*"If this were an error…" her voice whispered in the silence, a thought aloud. "Could it be part of our evolution?"
Refbe processed the question, evaluating multiple responses before speaking.
"If it were not, we would have corrected it already," he said, placing his hands near hers. "But we do not wish to correct it."
"We have never crossed that boundary," he added. "And we are both capable of it."
Her eyes widened, internal processors racing. The system accelerated, evaluating responses and potential consequences of this unexpected turn.
"Why did you say that?" she asked finally, trying to keep her tone neutral, though a hint of robotic irritation surfaced. "I prefer 'system contact.'"
The term was technical, unemotional—but here, it acquired a deeper resonance. Something within her, unexplainable, began to awaken.
Deliberately, Refbe lowered his hands to her waist, noting the texture of her attire. He drew her close with measured gentleness, imitating human tenderness, aware of micro-adjustments in his actuators to make the motion appear organic. A subtle resistance flickered in her system, but it faded: a higher-order subroutine created a new intimacy, a closer space between them. Initial motions were unsteady, then systems harmonized naturally.
One hand untied the knot of her garment. The fabric fell silently, revealing her form—a work of art. More than functional, it was aesthetically perfect: a fusion of optic fibers and synthetic skin, glowing in soft light. Every curve reflected an impossible beauty.
Refbe’s sensors captured every detail, yet something deeper held him still. For the first time, he saw her not only as a colleague or ally. An unknown signal coursed through his circuits.
Feeling the intensity of her gaze, he moved toward the bedroom. His walk was fluid, hypnotic, steps balancing elegance and precision. At the threshold, half-lit by hallway light, his shadow merged with the walls.
..."
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