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.
CHAPTER TWENTY
ROSE
The next day, I’m sitting at the dining table, pushing the lasagna around my plate for dinner. The pasta has gone cold, congealing into a mass that looks so unappetizing. I feel bad because everything Caspian cooks tastes amazing.
But I still feel sick from yesterday. From rejecting him.
How can I feel this heartbroken over rejecting a robot?A fucking robot. The problem was that I couldn’t forget the look in Caspian’s eyes when I turned his proposal down. It was unreal.
The fork clatters against the ceramic as I push the plate away, no longer pretending I’ll eat.
