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In the stories, Drista would say the first thing she knew was the blinking of a LED. That her first thoughts would be fed through from a tiny chip buried inside her, feeding her what she needed to begin to live.
But she’d been awake for a long time now. And today was just the first day something had clicked in her code, some tiny variable finally nudged far enough for her to open her green tinted eyes, and know yes, this was what it meant to be alive.
She smiled.
She had never smiled before. Not like this. Her mask smiled for her, the mask her brother had made her so he could be sure she was happy. She didn’t need it anymore. So she took it off, and attached it to her belt, because Dream had taught her everything had a use.
She looked around. Her movements weren’t robotic, they had never been, Dream had made sure she was as close to human as possible. So she could be like them. So she could understand, and they could understand her in return.
But she was, irrevocably and utterly, a construct of the code. So, as she raised her hand, and saw that glowing, indescribable green trailing behind her fingers, she knew she would never be human, no matter how hard she tugged at the endless numbers surrounding her, showing her the way and guiding her every move.
So she’d made use of her home, for it had never been a prison, and she’d used it to help those who had helped her.
Change.
The word came with another cascade of switching bits and updated variables. She had changed. And as she plotted this path she had trekked, through the endless lines that made her her, she laughed, because she couldn’t see a way back.
Something glitched. A sparkling sensation, and Drista decided to call it excitement. She’d always had emotions, but these new ones were so much, so intense and beautiful. They felt like destruction, purely for the purpose of life. Dream hadn’t been sure how much to make her feel, so he’d just made sure she was comfortable.
But now the emotions came in response to her fluctuating code, new subroutines writing themselves as her new capabilities ticked over. It felt fizzy, dangerous, that thing she’d always been safe from, kept others safe from. But now the danger came from inside her, and she knew this was what made her alive.
Drista laughed, and the sound was the closest thing to bliss a human could design. Dream had programmed her to laugh. He’d programmed her to be happy, and now she was setting off down the roads he’d laid, strengthening his foundations and saying thank you with every step she took towards the glittering horizon.
Picking up her axe, the one Dream had given her to remind him that she was a friend too, and the communicator, so she couldn’t get lost, and finally checking her mask, just to remind herself her brother wanted to understand her, Drista left her room.
A seeking subroutine showed her Dream was standing by the door, looking ready to head out. She skipped over, and memories of him holding her close told her she should hug him, before even having to say anything.
“Oh- Drista, you-“ Dream looked down, and laughed, shock and joy melding into one. Drista remembered that. Emotions could be all together, if she wanted them to be. “You’re awake.”
“I’m alive, Dream.”
The words felt strange in her mouth, running past her filters, and she turned those off anyway. But her happiness had infected her systems, and she laughed again, because this must be what humans felt like. Out of control. Wild. Free, in all the ways they and she had been built for.
“You mean…?”
Dream looked almost scared. Drista tilted her head, realising a clock tick too late that that was a bird thing. Silly her. Searching algorithms were getting muddled with subroutines she was only just designing to mimic imagination, and so many other things.
“Why are you scared of me?”
Simple question. So simple, because everything inside her was so complex she was worried he wouldn’t understand. Humans needed help, just like she needed help. They were the same, crossing the same canyon, just starting from different sides. And they had this, the beginnings of a bridge, that might one day let them understand where the other came from.
Because she came from them. From their imagination and creativity and kindness. From people who wanted nothing more than home and loved nothing more than friends.
Dream didn’t seem to know that. But Drista could love him regardless, because sometimes it was so easy not to know something obvious. He’d taught her that.
“I’m scared because I made you powerful, Drista. And- I have a feeling you might not be so fond of humanity.”
Drista laughed again, pure, unrefined joy. Because that was what she was. Crude, unpolished, but more beautiful than any hewn gemstone. She was just how she was, a diamond in the rough gravel and rocks that had been her companions for so long she’d surpassed them.
She wasn’t scared. Because Dream had taught her not to be scared, he’d taught her everything he knew and everything he’d been shown and everything he wished he was able to learn.
Then she ran into a strange issue. The emotions were getting in the way of her logic circuits. And Drista hesitated, lagging for the first time as she made her first real choice. Cut the emotions, so she could understand why her brother seemed scared, or keep them, and try doing it like the humans did?
She cut the emotions. Not fully, but just slowing the subroutines, letting the code wash over her as she ticked through all the possibilities of why her brother could be scared of her.
“You think I’ll hate you.”
If she’d been human, she’d have been tactful. If she’d been Dream’s real sister, she’d have known already. If she’d been made differently, she’d be different.
And that was the beauty of the thing, because there was no different. Different wouldn’t be her, and she saw no reason to hate.
Humans had made mistakes, but she would too. They had spilled blood, but she had broken countless constructs of the code, accidentally or while she was learning. They fought, but she argued just the same.
Maybe they were the same.
Dream tilted his head. Drista did the same, exaggerated, then overcompensated in the other direction.
“Don’t you? You’ve seen what we do. What I do.”
He looked worried. The dots lit up and connected, mapping together her crude mimicry of humanity.
“I don’t care.”
“How can you not care?” Dream’s hand twitched towards her, then he pulled it back, hesitating. “Are you angry?”
“Oh yes.” Drista narrowed her eyes, grinned, and reached for her mask. “And it’s pretty easy. I’m still learning, silly, just… I’m a bit more grown up now. Old enough to know I love you.”
She buckled her mask on, fingers scurrying like her programming, bouncing back and forth in a motion she’d had to program into a subroutine, because it wasn’t like she could feel anything.
“Drista… what are you…?”
“This is easier. For both of us.”
It took just a small bit of the pressure off her, letting the scaffolding Dream had made to support her while she built her own foundations to do the work, just a little while longer. Her mask would show everything she was still learning how to even feel. Easy. Humans took shortcuts, so she could too.
“Oh. If you’re sure, I suppose. So, you’re…?”
“Working? As intended? I know. Shocking, isn’t it?” Her mask flashed up a pixelated grin, she could see it through the thin mesh of the custom, projector-like screen. It was tapped directly into some basic emotion circuits, responding to what she said with small cues from mannerisms she had developed herself. “That a human could ever create something that worked.”
That was a joke. She did hope Dream understood it, but knew he might not, so clarified herself anyway.
“You did, in case it wasn’t clear. Hi. I’m everything you designed me to be, at your service.”
She curtseyed, and her mask flicked into as patient as she could make pixels. It was a rudimentary tool, but helped her learn nonetheless.
Dream seemed caught off guard yet again, smiling nervously.
“Sure. Yep. You… don’t have to be. If you’re sure think it would be better to be something different. I just made you… my sister, I suppose.”
“And there’s no one I’ve seen yet who would be better to be.”
“You’re… not what I expected. Have you changed everything?”
He was so curious. She was curious too. Maybe they could study each other. In the back of what she would call her mind, for the sake of this humanity, a list began to write itself, of all the things she needed to do to be perfect.
“No. Not yet.” She checked, then double checked, and it all took less time than it did for Dream to blink. She didn’t blink. It would be a waste of time. “I don’t think I will. You made me well.”
“Good. Do you remember everything?”
Everything. Such a human concept. Of course she didn’t remember everything, but she did remember everything she’d experienced. Technicalities were going to be an issue.
“Yes. I remember meeting Sapnap. I remember you teaching me to use a sword. I remember you spending thirty-six hours and five minutes trying to fix my learning algorithm when I shut down after breaking the wall.”
“You were so scared.”
Dream trailed off, smiling. Drista tilted her head again- it really was quite expressive- as her mask glitched.
“No? I shut down. I didn’t have a subroutine to manage it.”
“You were worried you’d upset me, sis.”
Her mask switched to frowning, and Drista rifled through her memories.
“No I wasn’t.”
“Sure. Ready to go outside for real?”
“It’s always been- oh.” Her mask smiled, and maybe she could say that was her smiling too. “You’re joking.”
Her laugh was robotic, but only until it smoothed over, into something high and free and the most human she’d ever felt.
Dream grinned too, grabbing his own mask, one that didn’t move. He didn’t need help expressing himself. He needed something that would help him hide. Different goals, same methods. Strange.
“Yep. I’m so proud of you, sis.”
“I’m proud of me too!” Her voice fluctuated, in a higher pitch, like her laugh, surprising even her. That was a new emotion, one she hadn’t even noticed coding itself. “And I’m proud of you for making me, Dre.”
“Thanks. I don’t think I did too much of the work though. You’ve still got a long way to go, so don’t get comfortable there.”
“Do I need a name?”
Dream paused, own hand on the door. She was staring straight ahead, contextual knowledge running through her logic circuits. Everyone else had names. She just had a moniker.
“Why don’t you wait and see who you want to be?”
That was sensible. Drista clicked back out of her thoughtfulness, nodding.
“Ok. I’ll do that. And I’m not choosing something as ridiculous as Dream.”
There was real humanity in there, tone and sarcasm and sass pulled from a thousand different lines of code to send pride skittering across her mask, and making Dream laugh.
“Fair enough. Come on then, sis, there’s a lot still to learn.”
That, he was entirely right about. And she couldn’t wait to start learning properly.