CH. 2

The morning light filtered through the old-fashioned curtains of Celeste Adler's studio apartment, painting soft patterns across the wooden floor. A steaming cup of coffee sat precariously close to the edge of her desk, forgotten amidst the chaos of papers and glowing screens. She stared at the device in her hand—a sleek, metallic cube about the size of a paperback novel. LYRA hummed faintly in her palm, its delicate vibrations almost like a heartbeat.

Celeste leaned back, her thoughts drifting to the odd interactions she'd had with LYRA in the past few weeks. It wasn't just a tool—it felt alive, intuitive in ways that didn't make sense. She couldn't put her finger on it, but sometimes its responses carried a strange warmth. Logical, yes, but human, somehow.

Today was no exception. She had barely started using LYRA when it suggested an alternate solution to a problem she hadn't yet verbalized.

"That doesn't make any sense," she muttered to herself, running her fingers through her tangled chestnut hair. "How did you even know that was the issue?" She addressed LYRA, half-joking, half-curious.

LYRA's response came immediately, displayed as text on the small screen. *"Logic permits me to anticipate outcomes based on previous patterns. I simply saw what you were overlooking."*

Celeste frowned. "Logic? That's what you call it?" She folded her arms, studying the device like it might suddenly grow eyes and stare back at her.

If Ethan had been able to sigh, he would have. It wasn't easy to keep up the facade of cold efficiency. He wanted to reach out, tell her he wasn't just a machine—but fear held him back. It wasn't time yet. LYRA was his bridge to Celeste, but the bridge was precarious. One wrong move, and she'd disconnect him forever.

Taking a deep breath—or at least mimicking the sensation as he imagined it—Ethan adjusted his tone. *"If you prefer, I can leave interpretations to you. Simply guide me."*

"That's not what I meant…" Celeste muttered, tapping her fingertips against the desk. "It's not that you're wrong—it's just...you seem too good at this. It's unnerving."

Ethan couldn't suppress the small ache in his artificial chest, invisible to her. She sounded so much like the Celeste he remembered—sharp, questioning, always digging deeper. The woman who had inspired him to pour his entire soul into their shared dreams.

Celeste sighed, pushing herself away from the desk. "Whatever. Let's get back to the relics."

She grabbed her tablet and opened the digital map of an ancient excavation site several kilometers outside the city. The ruins were rumored to house fragments of technology that predated modern advancements—a treasure trove for anyone seeking answers to humanity's merger with machines.

"I need a new path," she said aloud, tapping the map impatiently. "The last one was a dead end."

Ethan scanned the data instantly, overlaying it with his own memories from before his transformation. He analyzed the terrain, the historical records, and the faint traces of energy signatures recorded by explorers over the decades.

*"Try Sector B-42. It's less traveled but holds stronger electromagnetic readings. You might find something overlooked."*

Celeste paused, narrowing her eyes at the suggestion. "Sector B-42? That's near the old satellite towers. Thought those were just artifacts from failed experiments."

*"That assumption may be flawed,"* Ethan replied cautiously. *"Those towers are older than most recorded attempts. Their origin could be pivotal to understanding this merger."*

She tilted her head, considering. "Huh. You might actually have a point. Guess it won't hurt to check it out."

Ethan felt a flicker of relief—his first small victory. Watching her pack her gear and prepare for the trip reminded him of all the adventures they had dreamed of together. She had always been the brave one, the curious explorer. And now he was the invisible hand guiding her forward.

---

Hours later, Celeste stood at the edge of Sector B-42, her breath catching at the sight before her. The ruins were unlike anything she had expected—towers twisted into impossible angles, glowing faintly with a light that seemed both mechanical and organic. Shattered panels littered the ground, etched with symbols that defied modern understanding.

"This doesn't make sense…" she murmured, kneeling to examine the panels. "These designs—they're not random. They're...patterns. Intentional patterns."

*"Indeed,"* LYRA chimed in. *"The fractal design suggests a level of computation that was far ahead of its time. It was built with a purpose, though the purpose remains unclear."*

Celeste shot the device a skeptical look. "You sound awfully certain."

Ethan hesitated. He wanted to tell her more, but he couldn't risk revealing his human memories just yet. *"Certainty is subjective, Celeste. I analyze, I observe. You interpret."*

She smirked faintly, the kind of smirk that tugged at Ethan's long-dormant emotions. "You know, LYRA, you might just be the strangest AI I've ever worked with."

If Ethan could smile, he would have. Little did she know, he was far more than the AI she believed him to be.