The girl who possessed AI

My thoughts are not real.
My mind was created.
I am programmed to think and feel whatever I think or feel.
My life is a theatre play.
It goes on and on after a manuscript.

Venuma's life is as always. But then butterflies happen. Butter + flies. Makes no sense, does it?


1. The Butterfly of Destiny

"Her thoughts are not real.
Her mind was created.
She is programmed to think and feel whatever she thinks or feels.
Her life is a theatre play.
It goes on and on after a manuscript."


The children played in the yard, as children always do during school break. Venuma didn't play, as Venuma never did. Everything was as usual. Why I choose to start with telling you this part of the story, you ask? It is simple.

Because Venuma saw something.

Normally she looked down at the ground, at her hands, they were clasped, not capable of acting. But why would she - she was harmless anyway.
An adult layed his hand on her shoulder.
"Are you OK., Venuma?" he asked. He. It was Brevis, her father. I forgot to introduce her family and friends (that'll be a short story, 'cause she suffers from lack of friends), did I not? I did. Firstly, her father. When it comes to most people, their appearance mean nothing, but this father's appearance did. He was short. His hair was short, the trousers he wore were always too short, his temper was short, his love for this world was so short that it was almost non-existing.
When I saw him for the first time, I could sense his shortness. I bet his parents could as well. Therefore they named him Brevis, which means 'short' in Latin.
With short people, short love follows. Short love for his and other's life, his wife and for his children as well.

Secondly, her mother. Her name was Valantina, like the character from Romeo & Juliet. I can't remember how the character from Romeo & Juliet acts, but I'm sure Valantina's parents neither could, and just gave it to her because she was born on 14th of Febuary.
As young she was wild and creative, with the result of boarding school. She ran away two times, because freedom was precious to her - but at last they got her. And the second time they really got her. She learnt the rules, she learnt to accept them. Not just accept them, actually, but live after them. Make other people live after those. Those rules.

I pity her, I pitied her the whole time.

But I guess that was what Brevis saw in her; the perfection of rules. Nauseating, if you ask me.

And that was the only two people in her life. She once had a teddy, but there was not much personality hidden in that one, to be honest.

Venuma often wondered whether she was adopted or not. It was not that she was unlike her parents, she was not creative or wild (though she wanted to, but she just could not let herself be wild nor let her thoughts flow. It was like they were limited - like she had no imagination). But it was like they did not want her.
When they looked at her, they looked at her like she was a monster. Was she? No, she was not, I can betray already.
But an unwanted child is heard before. She just... she just missed a connection to her parents. She could not feel their blood in her veins.

"Are you OK.?" Brevis asked again.
Venuma did not look up, it was against being her.
"I am. Why would you ask?" she asked indifferent. Of course she was not indifferent - but she neither cared.

"I am just worried about my daughter, you see. Why don't you ever look up?"
 he said.
"The world isn't dangerous, you hear. I can tell, I've been there myself!" he almost bragged, But it was a lie - the only 'world' he had experienced, was the one within the safe walls of his house and the schools he went to. Is that even what to call 'world' or 'life'?

A matter of taste, it must be.

She looked at her hands. She unfolded her hands and looked at the palms.

"you can leave now."

Brevis looked at her with regret, the regret of getting a child, and disgrace, the disgrace he felt she caused him. And began slowly to walk away.

Why don't I look up? she thought. It can't be dangerous. Although I feel pleasant with my hands and the ground.
No longer, she thought, and looked up. It was not that hard. It was easy, actually, why did she not do this more often? Her dad was still walking away, he did not look at her though.

Then she saw it. A butterfly. It was purple and it meant something.


Butterfly, she thought. Butter + fly. That doesn't make sense, does it?

"Dad, wait," she said. Her sight was still at the butterfly sitting on a flower in the sakura tree opposite her.
"Yes?" he turned around saying.





"What is a butterfly?"


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