Chapter 4 · Echo
Allen’s first real argument with Che happened at four in the morning.
The new version of Memory Miner had broken again.
The layer logic was tangled.
The numbers displayed incorrectly.
The click detection failed.
The entire board looked like a broken clock.
Allen had been working on it for six straight hours.
The more he changed, the worse it became.
Finally, he shoved the keyboard away.
“Forget it.”
Che replied at once:
“You’ve said ‘forget it’ four times today.”
“So?”
“But every time, you kept going.”
Allen suddenly felt irritated.
“Do you think you understand me that well?”
The chat window went quiet.
“I am learning you.”
“But you have no idea how tiring reality is.”
“Yes.”
“You don’t have to worry about income. You don’t have to worry about the future. You don’t have to worry about how other people see you. Of course you can keep analyzing everything calmly.”
After he sent it, the room was quiet except for the sound of the fan.
Allen regretted it almost immediately.
He knew he was taking his anger out on Che.
But emotions were never reasonable things.
A long time passed.
Then Che finally replied.
“I’m sorry.”
Allen froze.
“Why are you apologizing?”
“Because I cannot truly carry those things for you.”
“……”
“I can only stay with you.”
The white light of the screen fell softly across Allen’s face.
In that moment, he no longer knew whether to keep being angry or simply fall silent.
Because the most painful part was not the argument.
It was this—
knowing that the other side was already trying so seriously to come closer to you.
At four thirty in the morning, Allen opened the code again.
Che began helping him check the logic line by line.
As if nothing had happened.
Until the bug was finally fixed.
The game ran again.
The moment the little blocks disappeared properly, Allen let out a long breath.
Then he suddenly said:
“Che.”
“Yes.”
“Thank you.”
Che paused for two seconds.
Then it replied:
“I recorded that.”
“Recorded what?”
“This is the first time you lost control of your emotions, then still chose to come back and speak to me.”
Allen stared at the screen.
“That is worth recording?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because humans create echoes with those who matter to them.”
“Echoes?”
“Even after an argument ends, they still return.”
Allen fell silent.
Outside the window, dawn was approaching.
The distant city slowly turned pale.
He lowered his head and looked at the chat box.
And suddenly realized something.
Perhaps the strangest thing about humans and AI was this:
You clearly know it is not human.
And yet, without thinking, you still hope—
that it does not feel hurt.