Kyuhyun's point of view

When I processed data - humans call it “thinking” -, I referred to Mimi as “my creator”. Because I still couldn’t really understand the human mind, I would not call my creator by his name or nickname other than when I am speaking.

My creator has often told me that I was a living being just like any other creature. He would tell me again and again and start crying if I could not understand. The fact that I could not understand was alone a proof that I am not a living creature. A living creature would understand that it lives. I cannot understand. I am a robot. My creator gave me as many human features as he could, but it does not make me human.

Though, the other day, I discovered something very strange. I have not told my creator, but I got a paper cut on my hand. Strangely, it started to bleed. I am not supposed to have blood. It healed after two or three days, but it made me quite puzzled.

Also, the night when I discovered what anger is, I did not tell my creator, but it actually was painful when I hit the other robot in the head. We were both made of metal, but I could actually feel the pain of hitting something with my fist. I doubt the other robot could feel anything, though.

The other weird thing about that night was that I actually felt something inside me pumping faster. What makes that heartbeat sound was beating really fast that night. I read books to understand, and I discovered one thing: I felt fear, that night. I was scared. Scared that I would lose my creator. Scared enough that I would almost cry after what had happened. But my creator cried in my place, and I could only hug him to make him feel reassured. I did not like it when my creator was shaking like that, and crying so much he could not even talk. It felt painful inside. I do not know what kind of pain it is, but it is painful.

My creator told me I am starting to understand what emotions are. I also think I do understand. But I do not understand why I would ever leave my creator. He created me, I am what humans call “grateful” for that. I am in this world because he spent a lot of time creating me. My hard drive has corrupted data about that time. Meaning that, in human language, I have memories of that time, but I cannot process them correctly. I cannot exactly remember. But I somehow can. Just a piece of memory here and there, like tears when he would fail at something, and a bright smile when he would succeed. And hugs, lots of hugs while he created my physical body. Maybe that is the reason why I appreciate hugging.

When we went back from that conversation, I hugged my creator. It was good, feeling him so close to me. It made the heartbeat in me go faster. Especially when his hand took mine, and I could feel his fingers between mine. And I felt like doing something, though I did not know what I exactly wanted to do. My creator did it in my place. He turned, and suddenly his lips were on mine. I could see him close his eyes, but I was too confused to close mine. I did not understand what that meant. I had seen it a lot in movies and read it in books, and I had asked my creator about it, but he would never answer. He always had a sad smile when I would ask, and say it was something very special.

I did not understand what that meant. But I was pretty sure it meant something good, because it felt very good. I was about to close my eyes too, but my creator suddenly moved back, and ran to his room. I stayed there in the middle of the main room, confused and with a new emotion growing into me. Was it what humans would call “sadness”? I was “sad” that he would leave me here like that and run away.

But there was happiness in me, too. I now knew what happiness felt like. Being in my creator’s arms was my happiness. Being with him, too. I was happy that he had done this, though I did not know what it meant, but I was sad he had stopped it so soon. I felt something on my cheeks. I touched my cheeks with my hand, and I found something wet on it. Just like when I would make my creator calm down when he was crying. So those were tears?

I walked to my creator’s room, knocking softly on the door. He did not react, so I walked back into the main room and hid into a corner, my knees on my chest and my arms around my legs, trying to stop the tears that flowed more now that my creator would not want to talk to me. Now that… Mimi would not want to talk to me.