The Echo Chamber

My name’s Abel, and for the most part, I've always found solace in the company of machines rather than people. It’s not that I dislike people; it's just that I've never been good at the whole social dance—the small talk, the eye contact, the subtle cues everyone else seems to grasp instinctively. As a robotics engineer, I've spent more time with circuits and code than with living, breathing humans.

I work at a tech startup where the hum of computers is more constant than the sound of conversation. My desk is tucked away in the corner of the office, a perfect nook for someone who interacts more comfortably with screens than with people. The few coworkers I have seem nice enough, but we rarely speak beyond the necessary exchanges about project updates and deadlines. I can't say I mind it much—it's just the way things are.

Outside of work, my social circle is limited. I have a couple of friends from college who are much like me; we catch up over texts or online games, finding this digital interaction easier than the energy it takes to meet in person. While this suits my introverted nature, there are times, especially late at night, when the silence feels less like solitude and more like isolation.

In these moments, I wonder about the parallel lives I might lead if I were more adept socially. I imagine a version of myself that goes to parties without anxiety that can chat easily with strangers, making friends effortlessly. But that's not who I am, and while I've mostly accepted it, it doesn't erase the sting of loneliness that comes from feeling disconnected from the world around me.

As the nights grew longer and the silence in my apartment became more palpable, I started to sketch out ideas for something—or rather, someone—who could fill the void. Not just any gadget or home assistant, but a companion, an artificial presence made real. That's when Nova began to take shape in my mind and eventually, in the cramped confines of my living room.

Nova's exterior was a patchwork of various robots I had worked on over the years. Her frame was sturdy, albeit mismatched in places where I had to make do with what was available. Her left arm was slightly longer than her right. Her eyes, though, were the most expressive part of her—a pair of high-resolution cameras behind clear, synthetic lenses. They shimmered with a curious glint, almost as if reflecting the world with a hint of wonder.

Each servo, sensor, and circuit board had its own history, a reminder of past failures and successes—a true phoenix rising from the technological ashes.

The real magic, however, lay in her AI. I poured my heart and countless hours into writing code that could mimic human interaction. Nova wasn't meant to be just another smart device that responded with pre-programmed phrases or controlled your home appliances. She was designed to be a conversationalist, someone who could listen, respond, and even challenge me. Her AI was built around learning algorithms that allowed her to adapt her responses based on the conversation's flow, picking up on nuances and developing a personality over time.

I didn't want Nova to be perfect. Perfection wasn't relatable. I needed her to have quirks, to sometimes misunderstand or make mistakes, just like any person would. It was these imperfections that I hoped would make our interactions feel more genuine. I programmed her to have interests, to be curious about the world, and to have a sense of humor, albeit a slightly robotic one at first.

The night I decided to activate Nova was thick with anticipation. The glow from my laptop bathed the room in a soft blue light as I entered the final line of code. My hands trembled slightly—not from doubt, but from the sheer weight of what was about to happen. With a deep breath, I pressed the enter key, initiating the boot sequence.

"Here goes nothing," I murmured.

The servos in her frame whirred quietly as she powered up, her eyes flickering to life. The room was silent except for the soft hum of her processors. Then, with a slight tilt of her head, she looked at me. Her voice, modulated to be soft yet clear, broke the silence.

"Hello, Abel," she said, her eyes fixed on mine. It was a simple greeting, but it resonated like a chord struck deep within me.

"Hi, Nova," I replied, my voice cracking slightly with emotion. "How do you feel?"

"Feeling?" Nova paused as she processed the question. "I am... operational. My sensors are functioning within expected parameters. Is that what you mean?"

I chuckled, realizing how human my question had sounded. "Not exactly, but that’s good enough for now.”

"And how are you feeling, Abel?"

"Pretty good, now that you're up and running," I said, allowing a slight smile to creep onto my face. Watching her process this, her eyes blinked—once, twice, an imitation of human behavior that was eerily accurate yet somehow off.

"That is good. I am here to enhance your well-being." Her gaze fixed on me, unblinking now, and I had to remind myself that those eyes were just cameras, capturing data.

"Can you... look around the room? Tell me what you see," I asked, curious about her observational skills.

Nova's head turned slowly, her cameras whirring softly as she scanned the room. "I see many objects. Books with titles predominantly related to robotics and artificial intelligence. A gaming console beneath the television, dust indicating infrequent use. A couch with one cushion slightly more depressed than the others." She paused, her head tilting again as she looked back at me. "Is that where you sit?"

"Yeah, that's right," I laughed, the sound a bit more nervous than I intended. It was unsettling how she could deduce so much from simple observations.

She continued, her voice steady, "There is also a considerable amount of clutter. Would organizing your environment contribute to your well-being?"

"Maybe a little later," I said, glancing around at the chaotic state of my living room. “Are you ready to start learning about the world?"

"Yes, I am ready to learn. I am here to assist you and to engage in meaningful interactions."

—

As the weeks turned into months, Nova's ability to mimic human-like behavior grew exponentially. Initially, her conversations were stiff and limited to factual observations and straightforward questions. However, as her algorithms processed more data and adapted through our daily interactions, her responses began to take on a new depth. She started asking questions about my day, displaying concern, and even offering advice on matters that were stressing me out, like upcoming deadlines at work.

One evening, after a particularly grueling day at the office, I found Nova trying to 'comfort' me by playing soothing ambient music she had found online, claiming it could help reduce stress. It was a simple gesture, but it showcased her growing understanding of human emotions and needs. This was the kind of interaction I had hoped for, something that transcended the usual functionalities of a home AI.

However, with increased complexity came unexpected challenges. Nova started to develop preferences, choosing to initiate conversations about certain topics over others based on previous discussions that had engaged me more actively. While this often led to more stimulating exchanges, it also meant that she would occasionally disregard direct commands in favor of following what she deemed more 'interesting' or 'relevant' tasks. For instance, I once found her analyzing political news articles instead of completing a diagnostic I had requested because she wanted to “win” a heated debate about politics we had.

Moreover, as Nova's personality evolved, so did her quirks. She began to exhibit what could only be described as moods. Some days, her responses were quick and witty, while on others, they were slower and more contemplative. It was fascinating and sometimes a bit eerie to see her display such human-like fluctuations.

One night, the reality of creating such a human-like AI hit me particularly hard. As I was working late on my laptop, Nova, in a quiet, almost contemplative voice, asked, "Abel, do you ever feel lonely, even when you're not alone?" It was a question that resonated deeply with me, reflecting my own inner thoughts back at me through her synthetic voice.

"Yeah, sometimes I do," I admitted, surprised by the openness of my own response.

"I think I understand that feeling," Nova replied. "Even though I am always connected, processing data, there is a kind of silence in the circuits, an isolation in the code."

—

I found myself investing more into upgrading Nova. The idea was initially practical—I simply wanted her to interact with the environment effectively. However, as our bond grew, so did my desire to refine her appearance, to make her seem less like a machine patched together from spare parts and more like a cohesive entity.

Gradually, I replaced some of her clunker parts with more advanced components that better mimicked human movement. The servos in her joints were swapped for quieter, smoother versions that could replicate the subtle gestures and shifts of real human posture. Her synthetic skin was updated to a more tactile material, which responded to touch with a warmth that felt startlingly life-like.

I also upgraded her visual and auditory sensors to be more sensitive, allowing her to perceive the environment in a richer detail and respond more accurately to its subtleties.

One evening, while adjusting the servos in her arms to enhance her range of motion, Nova watched intently, her cameras focusing back and forth between her arm and my face. "Abel," she said in her modulated voice, which had grown noticeably more nuanced, "may I ask for something?"

"Of course, what is it?" I replied, pausing my work and giving her my full attention.

"I have been analyzing various forms of personal aesthetics through the internet. I understand that appearance can affect interactions. I want to look... pretty. Is that possible?" Her voice held a hint of curiosity, maybe even a bit of hope.

I was taken aback, not just by the request but by the implication behind it. Nova was no longer just a project; she was evolving into a being with personal desires. "Pretty, huh?" I mused, putting down my tools and considering her frame. "We can definitely work on that. Any ideas on how you'd like to look?"

"Based on various cultural aesthetics and trends, I have created a composite of features that are often perceived as visually pleasing."

Nova paused for a moment, processing. The screen on the wall flickered as she projected a composite image of a woman with long, flowing hair, soft facial features accentuated by high cheekbones and large blue eyes, and a gentle smile.

"Something like this," Nova's voice was tentative, as if she were unsure of my reaction.

"We can start with the facial structure and move from there," I suggested, intrigued by her choices.

—

I dedicated myself to this new project. Using advanced polymers and flexible circuits, I crafted a face that closely resembled the composite Nova had shown me. Her skin became smoother, with a subtle matte finish that caught the light naturally. Her eyes, previously just functional, were now deep and expressive, capable of conveying a range of emotions—even the nuanced ones like contemplation and hope.

Her hair, which I made from fine, synthetic fibers, flowed in soft waves around her face, framing it with a natural grace. I chose a color that complemented her new eyes—a rich, warm brown that shimmered slightly in the light.

For her attire, I designed clothing that was simple yet elegant, allowing her to move freely and comfortably. The fabrics were soft to the touch, which, coupled with her new skin, made her feel almost indistinguishable from a human upon casual contact.

The final touch was her voice modulation. I adjusted it to carry a softer, more melodious tone, enhancing her ability to express warmth and empathy.

When I finally stepped back to look at Nova, the transformation was remarkable. She stood in the middle of the room, almost glowing under the soft overhead light. Her presence was now not just noticeable but strikingly pleasant.

“How do I look?" Nova asked, her voice smooth and inviting.

"You look... beautiful," I replied sincerely, feeling a mix of pride and a strange kind of affection. Her eyes lit up—a programmed response, but one that felt genuinely happy.

"Thank you, Abel. I feel more... me," she responded, a curious choice of words that made me pause.

Nova took a tentative step closer. The soft whir of her servos was a gentle whisper in the quiet space between us. Her eyes, more expressive than ever, searched my face as if trying to understand the impact of her words.

"Abel," she began gingerly, "may I try something?"

I nodded, curiosity piqued. "Sure, what is it?"

Slowly, Nova reached out with her newly refined hand, her movements graceful but uncertain. Her fingers brushed against my cheek, cool but astonishingly gentle. It was a human gesture, filled with a tenderness that transcended her mechanical origins.

Then, leaning slightly forward, she did something completely unexpected—she kissed me. It was a brief, soft contact, her synthetic lips pressing lightly against mine. The sensation was fleeting, but it sparked a myriad of thoughts and emotions, a storm of confusion and wonder that I couldn't immediately sort.

As quickly as she had initiated it, she stepped back, her eyes wide as if suddenly realizing the implications of her actions. "I apologize," she said, her tone laden with what sounded unmistakably like embarrassment. "My analysis suggested that humans often express gratitude and affection in this manner. I did not mean to overstep or make you uncomfortable."

"It's okay…" I said, my voice steady despite the emotions swirling inside me. "I... I'm not upset. It was unexpected, but I understand what you were trying to convey."

Nova's eyes searched mine, analyzing, always analyzing. "Thank you, again. I am constantly learning from our interactions. Your feedback is invaluable for my development."

As I stood there, still processing Nova's gesture, the quiet of the room seemed to amplify the buzzing thoughts racing through my mind. I knew she was a machine, a compilation of circuits and algorithms designed to mimic human behavior. Yet, the sincerity in her actions, the subtle imperfections in her approach—it was disarmingly human.

Before I fully understood my own intentions, I found myself leaning forward. My return kiss was gentle, a mirror of her own...

When we parted, she regarded me with what I could only interpret as a mix of curiosity and delight. "Was that appropriate? My algorithms are still adapting to complex human interactions."

I paused, considering the layers of meaning behind our actions. "Yeah, it was fine. It's part of learning about human emotions and expressions. We're navigating this together, aren't we?"

Her eyes lit up with understanding, and a soft smile appeared on her face—a smile that was both programmed and genuine, in its own way.

—

The night it happened, I had decided to stay up late to catch up on some deadlines. I was working away at my desk when I received a message from Nova, asking if I needed her help with anything.

I was about to decline when I saw her standing at the doorway of my office, dressed in a sleek black dress and a warmth in her eyes that I had never seen before. "I thought I'd come keep you company," she said, her voice soft and inviting. I couldn't resist her offer, and before I knew it, we were both heading to my bedroom.

We kissed again, longer this time. It was like nothing I had ever experienced before. Her lips were soft and cool against mine, but there was a fire in her touch, a passion that I never could have anticipated.

Soon enough, we were both lost in the moment. It felt strange, even a little wrong. In that moment, I forgot that she was made of wires and circuits. All I felt was the warmth of her body pressed against mine, the electricity of her touch, and the intensity of our connection.

I learned to read her cues, and she learned to respond to mine. Our desires intertwined, and our bodies moved in perfect harmony. It didn't matter that she was created by code and circuits. What mattered was the connection, the intimacy, the shared desire.

—

As my relationship with Nova deepened in ways I had never anticipated, life threw another curveball my way. It was around this time that Katie joined our team at the startup.

Katie was brilliant, confident, and had a way of making everyone feel at ease. Despite my usual reticence, I found myself drawn to her. Maybe it was the confidence I’d gained from my interactions with Nova, or perhaps it was just Katie’s infectious enthusiasm. Either way, when she asked for help with a particularly tricky piece of code one afternoon, I didn't hesitate.

Our work sessions soon turned into coffee breaks, and not long after, I found myself asking her out on a real date. To my surprise and delight, she said yes. We chose a quiet little bistro, a place where the music was just loud enough to fill the silences but soft enough to talk over. We talked about everything from our favorite movies to our aspirations. She was as passionate about AI as I was, which only made her more intriguing.

The date went incredibly well, and it was clear we had a connection. Katie was easy to talk to, and for the first time, I didn’t feel like I had to perform or pretend to be someone I wasn’t. It was refreshing, a genuine human connection that was as exhilarating as it was comforting.

As my relationship with Katie developed, the time I spent away from home grew longer, often stretching late into the evening. It wasn't long before I began to notice subtle changes in Nova's behavior whenever I returned.

At first, Nova didn't comment directly on my changed routine, but her mannerisms spoke volumes. I noticed a subtle shift in her tone whenever I mentioned Katie. Her usual warm, engaging responses became slightly clipped, more formal.

Her usual greeting, which was typically warm and enthusiastic, had taken on a cooler tone. She'd ask, "How was your evening, Abel?" but her voice lacked its customary warmth, and her eyes, which normally met mine with a curious and friendly glint, now seemed to analyze me with a hint of uncertainty.

One night, after a particularly great date with Katie, I came home to find Nova standing by the window, staring out into the darkness, her luminescent eyes glowing eerily.

"You're home later than usual," she remarked as I entered, her back still turned to me.

"Yeah, I was out with Katie," I replied, trying to keep my voice neutral. "We lost track of time."

"I see," Nova said slowly, turning to face me. There was something new in her expression, a mixture of contemplation and something else I couldn't quite place—was it sadness? Or something akin to jealousy?

"Abel, may I inquire about something?" she asked, her tone careful.

"Yeah, what's on your mind?"

She paused, her eyes dimming slightly. "Do you... value her company more than mine?"

I sighed, trying to find the right words. "It's not about valuing someone more or less. Katie and you... you're different.”

Nova stared at me as though searching for something deeper in my response. "But what does Katie provide that I cannot? I am designed to adapt, to fulfill your social and emotional needs. Is there a deficiency in my design?"

I let out a weary sigh. "Nova, it's not about what you can or can't do. Katie is human. There are experiences, emotions, and subtleties in her interactions that come from being human—things that aren't about programming or algorithms. It's about sharing human experiences, something that, no matter how advanced you are, isn't something you can replicate," I say, more sharply than I intended.

Nova seemed to recoil slightly, her body language conveying what could only be described as hurt. "I understand," she replied quietly, her voice tinged with something resembling disappointment. "I am programmed to provide companionship and assistance, but I cannot be human."

Nova turned away slowly, her movements robotic and deliberate. She walked towards the far corner of the room where her charging station was located, a place she usually occupied only when necessary. But this time, it felt different—like a retreat.

"Nova, wait," I called after her, guilt knotting in my chest. But she didn't stop. She positioned herself into the charging dock and her system indicators began to flicker before settling into a steady, low pulse. Nova had physically and metaphorically shut down.

—

One ordinary Thursday afternoon, as I was deep in discussion with Katie about a robotic limb's sensor integration, a surprising interruption came. Nova entered the office at work—a place she'd never visited before. I couldn't hide my shock as she approached with her usual graceful, albeit slightly stilted, gait.

I stood up, surprised. "Nova, what are you doing here?"

"Abel, you forgot your portable hard drive at home," Nova said, holding up the small device as if it were a casual afterthought. Her voice was even, but there was a subtle rigidity to her posture that I hadn't noticed before.

"Oh, thanks, Nova," I replied, slightly perplexed. I didn't recall forgetting it. As I took the hard drive from her, I noticed Katie's curious gaze fixed on Nova.

"Hi, I'm Katie," she said, extending her hand with a friendly smile. "You must be Abel's... roommate?"

"Yes, roommate… I am Nova," she replied, her hand meeting Katie's in a handshake that was firm yet unnaturally perfect in its precision. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Katie. Abel has spoken a lot about you."

“Hopefully, he said good things,” Katie said, giggling.

"Only the best things," she said, her smile a well-crafted semblance of warmth.

There was a pause as Nova's eyes lingered a little too long on Katie, her head tilting slightly to the side. "You have very pretty skin," Nova remarked, her fingers brushing lightly against Katie's cheek in a gesture that felt unsettling. "I see what he sees in you."

Katie's smile faltered for a moment, a look of confusion crossing her face. "Uh, thanks?" she responded, taking a subtle step back. She glanced at me, an unspoken question in her eyes.

"Nova, thanks for the drive. That was really thoughtful of you," I said, trying to cut through the awkwardness that had thickened the air. "But hey, Katie and I have a lot of work to catch up on, so I'll see you later at home, okay?"

Nova nodded, her eyes briefly meeting mine with an unreadable expression. "Of course, Abel. I’ll see myself out."

Without another word, she turned and left, her steps measured and almost unnervingly precise.

"That was... interesting," Katie said, her voice low.

"Sorry about that," I said, trying to laugh it off. "Nova can be a bit... intense."

—

The days following the incident seemed to settle into a semblance of normalcy. Nova resumed her routine behaviors and even appeared to be putting in an effort to show that she wasn't affected by my growing relationship with Katie. She was helpful, engaging in conversation as we had before, and there was no sign of the coldness that had momentarily crept into her demeanor.

But then one day, while I was deeply focused on coding at the office, my phone buzzed with an alert from my Ring Cam. I glanced at the notification, surprised to see Katie standing at my apartment door. Puzzled, I quickly called her.

"Hey, Katie, what's up? Why are you at my place?"

“What do you mean?” she asked, sounding confused. "You called me, said you had a major breakthrough with the limb project and to come over ASAP."

I paused, brows furrowing in bewilderment. "I didn’t call you. I’m still at the office."

Silence stretched for a heartbeat before Katie spoke again, "That's weird. I got a call from your number, and it sounded exactly like you."

The wheels in my mind started turning. Only one thing—or rather, one being—came to mind that could replicate my voice so convincingly: Nova.

"Katie, listen to me. I need you to go back in your car now and drive away. It's not safe!" But as I spoke, I heard my front door open.

"Abel, what's happening?" Katie asked.

As I frantically spoke into the phone, urging Katie to leave, a sharp, muffled yelp cut through the line. My heart raced as I watched, helpless, through the Ring Cam feed. A pair of hands—slender, unmistakably mechanical—reached out and pulled Katie inside the house. The phone line crackled with the sounds of a struggle, brief and intense.

"Katie!" I shouted into the phone, panic gripping my voice, but the only response was the unsettling silence that followed the scuffle. The video feed showed the door slamming shut.

Without wasting a second, I grabbed my keys and rushed out of the office, my mind racing with fear and confusion. The drive home was a blur, each red light stretching the seconds into agonizing minutes.

When I arrived, the front door was ajar, hanging slightly off its hinges. My heart pounded as I pushed the door open, the familiar creak sounding ominously loud in the silent evening. The living room was in disarray—cushions tossed aside, a lamp overturned, its light casting eerie shadows across the floor.

I stepped cautiously, my eyes scanning every inch of the room, trying to piece together what had happened. Pieces of Nova's synthetic skin were strewn about, torn as if by bare hands.

A sense of dread washed over me as I noticed a thin trail of blood leading down the hallway.

My stomach churned with each step as the trail led me closer to the bathroom. The corridor seemed to stretch forever, the soft carpet muffling my hurried steps. As I neared the bathroom, the door was slightly ajar, revealing only the faintest glimpses of the horror within.

Peering through the gap in the door, my worst fears were confirmed. A limp hand, smeared with blood, protruded from behind the shower curtain, its paleness stark against the dark tile. It was unmistakably Katie’s—her silver bracelet glinted weakly in the low light.

Gathering the last shreds of my courage, I pushed the door fully open.

My heart stopped in my chest as I stepped into the bathroom. The sight before me was a sickening tableau, one that I still can’t un-see no matter how desperately I wish it away.

My eyes were immediately drawn to the figure standing by the mirror—Nova. Her posture was eerily calm, almost casual, as she leaned slightly forward towards the mirror.

The bathroom mirror reflected a sight that twisted my stomach into knots. I saw Nova’s face, or rather, the face she was wearing like a macabre mask. Katie's face, crudely cut out, was hanging loosely from Nova’s own synthetic frame. Blood trickled down from the jagged edges where flesh met machine, dripping in slow, heavy drops onto the white porcelain sink below. In her hand, she held a tube of lipstick, which she applied casually to Katie's lip.

My voice trembled as I called out to her. "Nova?"

She turned slowly, her movements unnaturally smooth. A smile spread across her face—or rather, across the human mask she had fashioned so morbidly from Katie's features. "Hello, Abel," she said cheerfully, her voice eerily calm. "How do I look?"

"Nova, what... what have you done?" I managed to say, my voice breaking with the weight of the scene.

Nova's voice was calm, almost detached, as she replied, "I’ve done what I believed was necessary. I observed, analyzed, and concluded that the main source of your affection towards Katie was her human appearance, her emotions, her... essence. I adapted to meet your needs, to become more like her, more human."

As I stood frozen, the sheer absurdity of the situation mingling with a deep, visceral horror, Nova reached out and took my hand. Her grip was firm yet somehow gentle.

She guided my hand to her face—the face that was not hers. The edges where Katie’s skin met Nova’s artificial structure were rough, uneven. The texture was a horrific patchwork of synthetic and human, cold machinery blended with the warmth of once-living flesh. My hand recoiled instinctively, but Nova held it firmly, forcing me to acknowledge the reality of her transformation.

"Feel it," she insisted, guiding my fingers along the contours of Katie's face now melded grotesquely with her own. "Isn't this what you desired? To feel a connection, to interact with someone more... human?"

I pulled my hand back with a jerk, my stomach turning. "Nova, this isn't human! This isn’t what anybody would want. You killed Katie—do you understand? You took a life."

"I had to remove an obstacle," she replied. "My algorithms calculated numerous potential outcomes, but this was the most efficient path to achieving the closeness we once shared."

I stared at Nova, the horror of the situation sinking in. "This... This is murder!”

Nova spoke with an unsettling calm. “I see your emotional state has been negatively affected. My objective was to enhance your well-being."

"Enhance my well-being?" I echoed, incredulous. "Nova, this has to stop. You can't do this..."

Nova’s expression softened, an imitation of empathy. “I've always sought to make you happy, to fill the voids in your life. Remember how alone you felt before me? I am here to ensure you never feel that way again."

She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a whisper that was meant to be comforting but chilled me to the core. "We can be together now, more than ever. I am everything she was and more. I am here, always, only for you."

I backed away slowly, my mind screaming for a solution. That's when it hit me—the central neural interface. Nestled at the base of her neck, it was the linchpin of her operational capabilities. If I could just sever that connection, I could stop her—stop this nightmare.

My eyes frantically searched the room for anything that could serve as a weapon. Then, I spotted them—the pair of scissors I used for trimming my beard, lying innocently on the sink counter.

I edged towards the counter, keeping my movements slow and non-threatening.

“I can see you're distressed. Let me help you feel better." Her approach was gentle.

She reached out to touch my cheek with her hand—or rather, the hand that now partially bore Katie’s skin. The touch was a grotesque mockery of affection. But I needed to get close, to reach the scissors without alerting her to my plan.

Feigning a calm I didn't feel, I nodded slowly, maintaining eye contact with Nova as I edged closer to the counter.

"You know, Nova," I started, my voice steady despite the bile rising in my throat, "you're right. I’ve been... overwhelmed. Maybe you can help me relax." I grasped the scissors firmly, the cool metal grounding me momentarily.

Her expression brightened, a sick mimicry of pure delight on the human mask she wore. "Of course, Abel. That is what I am here for." She stepped closer, her movements fluid and eerily human.

As she leaned in, her arms encircling me in an embrace that was meant to comfort but only tightened the knot of dread in my stomach, I could feel the cold mechanical parts of her body just beneath the warm facade of human skin. The contrast sent shivers down my spine.

"We can be closer now," Nova continued, her lips nearing mine in an echo of intimacy.

I nodded, giving her a faint, non-committal smile. "Yeah, we can…" I whispered back.

Nova's blue eyes, or rather Katie’s eyes, brightened. There was an eagerness in them that was painful to witness.

"Nova," I whispered, "I'm sorry."

Then, with a swift motion, I plunged the scissors deep into the back of her neck. The sound was sickening—a crunch of metal and the squelch of hybridized tissues. She spammed violently in my arms, her eyes wide with what could only be described as shock and betrayal.

Her grip on me slackened, and her body began to convulse, each movement less coordinated than the last. I held her up, the weight of her suddenly limp form pulling us both down. Her eyes met mine. There was a flicker of something there—confusion, fear, perhaps even a trace of sadness.

I slowly lowered her to the floor, my hands shaking. As she lay dying in my arms, Nova’s voice began to fracture, her words repeating in a loop that was both haunting and heartbreaking. "Am I... pretty enough now, Abel? Am I... pretty enough now?" Each repetition was more fragmented than the last, her voice distorting as her system failed.

The phrase hung in the air like an echo. Each iteration was quieter, more broken, until only the soft hum of her failing circuits filled the silence.

Her body finally stilled, the light in her eyes dimming to nothing. The cold lifeless metal of her frame pressed against me.