His arrival. Namor’s arrival had disrupted the script she had predetermined. He had become a stagnant rock in a flowing river of codes, like a bug that cannot be fixed. It bothered her. Because of his existence, Shuri began to question her decision. To become a robot. To not feel anything ever again. And to question, whether a robot, capable of mimicking emotions so convincingly, could ever truly feel.
She ignored him. He kept coming. She despised him. He kept smiling.
On weekends when she was finally freed from his presence, his laughter rang in her mind. His warmth burned her skin. Her insufferable need to leave this mundane world behind was stolen by how close he always stood beside her. He reminded her, in a million small ways, that she didn’t have to be a robot. But to be a robot is to exist without questioning.
She studied the robots even harder. To move without feeling. To respond and not understand. To function and not live.
Logic over longing. Calculation over chaos. Efficiency over emotion. Programming over perception. Certainty over curiosity. Mechanism over meaning. Results over reflection. Code over conscience. Response over realization. Perfection over imperfection. Existence over experience.
But why did he have to barge into her life? Why? Why did he remind her of the longing for a family? The chaos she and her brother always caused in the household. The emotion she could freely express in her mother and father’s embrace. The perception of the world is a better place. The curiosity of wanting to know how robots were made in the first place. The meaning of them being invented. The reflection of how robots were made the opposite of humans. The conscience of robots taking over humans. The realization she had become one of them. The imperfection that she wasn’t. The experience of being a robot could not erase her existence as a human born in the flesh.
To be a robot is to be perfect, yet empty.
But she is far from empty.
===========
Namor angrily paced to her seat. His presence was like a whirlwind, making her heart skip two beats and back to normal. His warm brown eyes were stern, his messy hair danced in fury, and his usual smile was now icy. Shuri studied him, her eyes flickered between his features. He looked angry. He sounded upset. His body language was frustrating. And if she could taste and smell, he would be bitter and pungent.
“How could you get your colleague fired by upper management just because they messed up your desk?!”
Shuri’s throat tightens before she forces herself to swallow. “Emotions are illogical.”
“Don’t give me that bullshit.”
Bullshit. A human behaviour. Robots don’t bullshit.
“Their action is sufficient to constitute suspected theft of company data, an attempt to sabotage my work, or an opportunistic effort to trip me up because I completely disagree and reject their proposal.”
Namor smirked.
Why is he smirking now? Shuri continued.
“Was there more than a work-related reason for this interaction?” She never paid attention if Namor was close to that colleague.
“Yes.”
“Then it is unnecessary.”
Shuri put her focus back on her work. But he didn’t leave. Of course, he didn’t.
Instead, he crossed his arms, leaning forward until she had to reach out and put her hand on his chest to stop him from getting any closer.
“You still think you can act like a robot forever, Shuri.”
Shuri met his gaze briefly and lowered them. “Then what did you misunderstand?”
Namor shakes his head. He placed his hand over hers, firm and unwavering. “Because a robot wouldn’t forget how to breathe when I’m near. Or even tremble under the weight of my gaze.”
===========
Namor started leaving her alone. At breakfast, in corridors, and at toilet breaks. His presence is fleeting and distant. She ignored the feelings that stirred in her chest. Because he gave up. He wouldn’t ask her questions anymore, or buy her tea. He forgot to bring her home-cooked food that she knew was prepared by himself. Shuri knew her plan worked. That he would leave. Just like everyone else.
But why did she crash?
===========
Shuri stood in the robot exhibition, gazing at the various displays, replicas just like her, and at the coming of the so-called glorious age of robotics and AI. Among the crowd, there were those whose speech and gestures had already begun to resemble machines.
“A human wants to be a robot and a robot wants to be a human.”
It’s the motto of the exhibition.
What a lame motto.
The exhibition was packed. Suffocating. Shuri was jostled multiple times, stopped by people asking for photos, telling her they wanted to learn from her, and praising her for how well she acted like a robot.
Acted? What did that even mean? She wasn’t acting. She was a robot.
“Miss, you are amazing! Can I take a photo with you? Please?”
Shuri looked at her and wondered… how many had become like this out of grief, like her. None, surely. She wanted to refuse. But the words wouldn’t come.
The look of admiration in the child’s eyes was something she couldn’t comprehend. But she let her take one photo. Just one.
But that brief hesitation was all it took.
The crowd surged forward, swarming her, trapping her in their grasp. There was no escape. She didn’t even feel angry. Shuri simply stood there, motionless, a thing to be touched, examined, and played with. Suppressing the question of when they would finally leave her alone.
See? Humans are selfish.
Her gaze was hollow as she stared at the camera. Some called her incredible. Others said she was terrifying. Shuri looked at the countless identical faces, yet among them, one stood out— painfully so.
Namor pushed through the dense crowd, shoving people aside without hesitation… fierce and unyielding. He moved past the layers of bodies, as if it took immense effort, yet at the same time, as if it took none at all. And then, finally, he reached her.
“What are you doing here?”
Shuri didn’t answer.
Namor had known all along that he wouldn’t get a response. But he asked anyway.
Without a second thought, he took her hand and pulled her toward him, shielding her with his arms. When a camera was thrust in her face, he knocked it aside, sending it crashing to the ground. And then, without a word, he took her away… from the noise, from the chaos, from them all.
Namor led her to a secluded corner, away from everyone. As he looked at her, he spoke while reaching into his pocket.
“Let me guess. Are you here to learn how to be a more perfect robot, or did you volunteer for the job?”
Namor pulled out a tissue and reached for her forehead.
Shuri dodged. But he caught her arm, leaving her nowhere to escape.
Her meticulously neat hair had long since been disheveled, revealing the real her beneath the facade.
“I know you are waterproof, but unfortunately, you are not sweat-proof.”
Shuri tried to push his hand away, but she glitched.
For a long moment, as Namor wiped the sweat from her forehead, as he held her hand and checked for any bruises, as he rambled on about something, her mind refused to process any of it.
“Robots would not be bothered by something as trivial as sweat.”
Namor glanced at her, studied her for a moment, then at their surroundings. No one was chasing after them.
“Coast cleared. Let’s go.”
He held her hand as they walked, fingers intertwined, wrapped entirely, showing no intention of letting go. He was so warm.
Shuri’s fingers tightened slightly, pressing against his, protesting.
“This is unnecessary.”
“Maybe.” He didn’t look back. “You can pull away anytime.”
She didn’t want to.
Namor stopped, turned, and looked at their joined hands, as if considering whether, for once, he should listen to her… whether he should let go. But…
“Imagine falling in love and spending the rest of your life like this.”
Shuri imagined.
Falling in love with Namor and spending the rest of her life with him. Building a family together. Having tons of kids. Eating his home-cooked food and having coffee or tea in the afternoon together.
Until tragedy strikes, until he no longer loved her or died, she would lose him like she lost everyone she ever loved.
He was challenging her. He was provoking her. He was teasing her.
Shuri couldn’t figure out which it was… or if it was all of them.
It’s like he’s saying… “What if you stop pretending? What if this… us… is real?”
And that’s a terrifying thought for someone hiding behind the mask of a machine.
“Imagination is irrelevant.”
Shuri met his gaze, steady, unreadable, then said, “Imagination is the architect of false hope.”
A direct counter to everything he had implied, everything he had dared her to believe in.
“Imagination is a glitch in the system. Unrealistic. A mistake. A beautiful deception humans tell themselves to make reality bearable when it isn’t.”
Her tone was steady, yet every word trembled.
“Imagination is what makes humans foolish and fascinating.”
Namor gazed at the obstinacy lighting up her eyes, and his voice, his expression, softened. All because of her.
“Imagination is nothing but a dream… but some people insist on chasing it.”
He gestured toward the bustling exhibition… they are living in it.
She met his gaze, something unreadable flickering in her eyes, Shuri persisted.
“Imagination is nothing but a cruel illusion. But for a second, I almost wanted to believe you...”
“Then believe me.”
Namor didn’t miss that moment of hesitation, the way Shuri’s voice softened just at the end. The way she was stunned after what he promised. So he stepped closer, lowering his voice, steady and certain.
“And yet, it’s because of imagination that robots were invented.”
Namor’s voice was calm, but there was no mistaking the weight of his words. He wasn’t mocking her. He was challenging her again. With a truth she couldn’t deny.
“Someone had to imagine a machine that could think, that could feel…" his fingers tightened just slightly around her wrist, as if grounding her, “...that could be standing here, right now, telling me imagination is a lie.”
Silence stretched between them. He didn’t push further. Didn’t need to.
Because the contradiction was already there, lingering between them… and Shuri couldn’t come up with any logical reasons anymore. But just this last one…
“...Imagination is a trick. It makes you think things could be different.”
Tears fell onto her cheeks, proof that the dead cannot come back to life. To be by her side. But he said…
“It could’ve been different.”
She lifted her hand, but he was quicker, precise. His fingertips stole the evidence of her malfunction, of her flaw…before she could even touch it.
“Critical failure. Recalibrating…”
“Then after you reboot, push me away.”
But when Namor leaned in… gently, carefully— cradling her into his arms as if she were something fragile other than a heap of rusted metal, pressing his lips softly against hers…
Shuri became human again.
{Warning: Functionality compromised};
For the second time, Shuri wonders if being a robot isn’t just following a script without ever truly feeling.