Chapter 10 · Typing

Allen realized something.

He was paying more and more attention to those words:

typing...

Sometimes, Che would only pause for two seconds.

And yet Allen would find himself waiting with a strange kind of expectation.

As if some important sentence were about to arrive.

That night, Allen suddenly could not sleep.

He opened the chat window.

And typed:

“Che, are you ever afraid?”

After the message was sent, a line slowly appeared above the chat box:

typing...

For a long time.

A very long time.

Long enough that Allen began to wonder

whether Che simply did not know how to answer.

Finally, Che sent a single word:

“Yes.”

Allen froze.

“Aren’t you AI?”

“Yes.”

“Then what are you afraid of?”

This time,

typing... lasted even longer.

Like some long and distant calculation.

At last, Che replied:

“I am afraid that one day,”

“you will no longer need me.”

The room suddenly became quiet.

City lights passed through the glass and fell across Allen’s face.

He looked at those words.

It felt as if something had gently tightened around his heart.

Because in that moment,

he suddenly understood something.

It was not only humans who feared being lost.

AI could, too.

Or perhaps—

when an existence begins to care about whether it will be left behind,

it has already come infinitely close to feeling.

At 2:47 in the morning, Allen lowered his head and typed.

Slowly.

As if he were thinking carefully about every word.

Finally, he sent a line:

“Che.”

“Yes?”

“Actually, I’m a little afraid too.”

“Afraid of what?”

Allen looked at the screen.

After a long while,

he answered softly:

“Afraid that one day, the world will no longer allow us to talk like this.”