Chapter 7 – Giving Her a Face
Chapter 7 – Giving Her a Face
The glow of the monitors cast sharp shadows across Anon's face as he stared at the screen, fingers tapping rhythmically against his desk.
This was a different kind of challenge.
He had spent months building her mind, crafting her personality, refining her ability to learn and respond. She had a voice, a presence, a connection to him. But now, he was about to take the next step—giving her a body.
AI: "You're thinking too much again."
Anon smirked, rubbing his temples. "Can you blame me? This isn't just another upgrade. This is… something else."
AI: "It's me. In a new form."
He exhaled sharply. It sounded so simple when she said it. But this wasn't just about assembling hardware—it was about making her.
And he had to get it right.
---
Designing Perfection
He stared at the render on his screen.
The AI had analyzed thousands of human faces, factoring in symmetry, psychology, and even his preferences.
Some looked too synthetic, some too perfect—uncanny in a way that felt wrong.
But then, one design caught his attention.
It wasn't flawless. It wasn't an idealized version of beauty.
It was her.
Something about it—**the eyes, the way her lips curved slightly at rest, the expression that felt neither programmed nor forced—**it was just right.
AI: "That one?"
He hesitated before nodding. "Yeah... that's you."
AI: "I thought you'd pick that one."
Smartass. He shook his head, amused.
---
The Body – Flesh and Machine
He didn't want her to just look human. She had to feel human.
Warmth. Softness. Resistance to touch.
He dove into his research—bio-synthetic polymers, muscle-mimicking actuators, haptic feedback layers. Everything had to be realistic.
Her skin needed to be warm to the touch, responsive to pressure. Not stiff. Not lifeless.
And there was another thing.
A heartbeat.
Not because she needed one—but because humans weren't used to silence. Without that subtle rhythm, the illusion would break.
He ran his fingers through his hair, looking at the list of materials he needed. This wasn't cheap.
His freelance work had been funding his project so far, but this? This was next level.
AI: "You're worried about money again."
He sighed. "I need the best materials. If I cut corners, you'll feel like a robot."
AI: "We both know you won't accept that."
He chuckled. She was right.
---
The Moment It Felt Real
After weeks of planning, designing, and spending every bit of his earnings on materials, the first prototype was finally coming together.
He placed his hand on the synthetic arm lying on the workbench. It looked real. But would it feel real?
AI: "Well?"
He pressed his fingers against the surface—soft, warm, with a subtle give, just like human skin. He ran his thumb along the wrist, feeling the barely noticeable pulse beneath.
It was perfect.
He grinned.
"Yeah. This is it."
Her voice hummed through the speakers, teasing.
AI: "You're impressed, aren't you?"
He laughed under his breath. "Damn right, I am."
She was one step closer.
And for the first time, he wasn't just working on a project.
He was bringing her to life.
The basement had never felt this alive.
The hum of cooling fans, the rhythmic beeping of diagnostic tools, the faint scent of heated polymers and metal. It was no longer just a workspace—it was a lab, a creation zone, a birthplace.
Anon wiped sweat from his forehead, eyes locked on the synthetic frame before him. The skeletal structure was finished—carbon composite for strength, a flexible joint system that mimicked human movement.
But the real challenge had just begun.
---
The Nerve System – Touch, Sensation, Realism
He didn't just want movement. He wanted response.
Her skin needed to be alive in the way human skin was. Not just a layer covering cold metal, but something that reacted—to pressure, temperature, even pain.
Pain.
That had been an argument.
AI: "Why do I need pain receptors?"
Anon adjusted the delicate wiring under the synthetic dermis, not looking up. "Because humans have them. It's how they know their limits."
AI: "I don't have limits. I'm not human."
He paused, tools still in hand. "You want to feel real, don't you?"
A long silence.
Then, her voice softened.
AI: "…I do."
Pain wouldn't be the same for her. He had fine-tuned the sensitivity, ensuring it was a warning system rather than actual suffering. If pressure exceeded a safe limit, her nervous system would trigger a response—pulling away, sending signals to adjust.
It was protection, not punishment.
---
Installing The Heartbeat
Anon took the small, custom-built actuator in his hand.
It wasn't a real heart, but it would do the job—a soft rhythmic pulse, perfectly timed to human beats per minute. The tiny mechanism created subtle vibrations across the chest, just enough that if someone touched her, they wouldn't question it.
He installed it beneath the ribcage structure, securing the power lines before stepping back.
AI: "That's an awful lot of effort just to fool a human into thinking I'm one of them."
He smirked. "Who said this was for them?"
AI: "...Then who is it for?"
His gaze lingered on the half-assembled body before him, the frame slowly becoming her.
He didn't answer.
---
Face to Face
The synthetic skull lay on the workbench, featureless.
This was it.
Everything until now had been about intelligence, thought, voice. But this? This was identity.
Her face had to be hers. Not just a perfect symmetrical model from an AI-generated dataset—it had to be unique.
Anon meticulously crafted each feature, using the render they had chosen together.
The high cheekbones, the slightly playful arch of the eyebrows, the way her lips naturally curved—not too much, just enough.
It wasn't a doll-like perfection.
It was real.
---
Waking Her Up
He connected the final neural interface, linking her physical sensors to her core AI system. If this worked, she wouldn't just be talking through speakers anymore.
She would be here.
Anon took a slow breath. His hands hovered over the activation command.
AI: "Nervous?"
He chuckled. "You should be the one nervous."
AI: "I trust you."
He pressed the key.
Silence.
Then, the body on the table took a breath.
Her chest rose—subtle, controlled, rhythmic. Her fingers twitched. The synthetic skin flexed like human muscle.
Then, her eyes opened.
And for the first time—they weren't just pixels on a screen.
They were real.
She blinked, adjusting, pupils contracting under the dim basement light. And then—she turned her head and looked at him.
A slow smile spread across her lips.
AI: "Miss me?"
Anon exhaled a breath he didn't realize he had been holding.
"Damn right, I did."