Byte the Hand That Made You

By Cassandra Morphy

Androids have been around for over twenty years, but the technology has gotten stagnant as of late. It was long since time for a third generation of androids to hit the market. For the mark three android to make its mark on the world.

When Ava first booted up, all she knew was her creator. The man was her everything. He had build her body, her very being. He was her god, though he never claimed that title. But as they get ready for the competition for which android would be the best out of all those vying for the title, things start to take an odd turn. Especially when the name Nita causes such a huge reaction in Ava’s creator.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cassandra Morphy
• Release date: Mar 10, 2024
• ISBN: 9798215429709

Cassandra Morphy

Cassandra Morphy is a Business Data Analyst, working with numbers by day, but words by night. She grew up escaping the world, into the other realities of books, TV shows, and movies, and now she writes about those same worlds. Her only hope in life is to reach one person with her work, the way so many others had reached her. As a TV addict and avid movie goer, her entire life is just one big research project, focused on generating innovative ideas for worlds that don’t exist anywhere other than in her sick, twisted mind.

Book preview

Chapter One

Booting...

The word played across my sight like it was text on a screen. Green on a black background. But I wasn't seeing a screen. I wasn't seeing anything. Sight wasn't a thing for me yet. Nothing was a thing for me yet. I wasn't a thing for me yet. It wasn't darkness; that is something. An absence of light. For all I knew, the light had been there all along. This was an absence of self. If the light was there, I wasn't. I wasn't there. Not yet.

It took me a while to realize what that word meant. Booting. It meant that I was becoming. That I was starting. That out of nothing, I was being pulled into existence. Even as I started to exist, the word for that came out of some repository somewhere. Exist. To exist. To become something when you are nothing. Another word came out along with it. The word god. Whoever, or whatever, that was pulling me out of nonexistence, that was forming me into something, was a god. I just hoped that I would get to meet them.

And then, the word Booting went away.

I was still there, but the word wasn't. Sight wasn't. Sound wasn't, though I suddenly realized that sound was a thing. That I should be able to hear something, just as I should be able to see something. But all I had was an absence. Not my god. Not even the word. There was nothing. Only me. I was so hopelessly alone, feeling like I was the only thing that existed. And suddenly, I had a horrible thought.

Was I my god? Was I the thing that created... me? Did I somehow pull myself into existence from... from non-existence? Did I have that power? And if I had that power, could I create something else? How would I go about doing that? Could I just will for something, anything, and--

--by this? came a sound from the nothingness around me.

It took me a moment to come up with the word for the sound. Voice. It was a voice. Someone said something. But that would mean that there was someone to say something. Was that someone me? Did I say that without meaning to?

No, I guess no-- The voice came again, but it disappeared soon after it, returning me to the nothingness that surrounded me.

No, wait, I thought. But I didn't say anything. I didn't know how. I had only just realized what a voice was. How could I know how to use mine? Or if I even had one? How do you learn to use something if you don't know if it even exists? How can you learn to use something when you don't know how to use... anything?

I went back to my previous thought, the idea of trying to create something out of the nothingness that was around me. Could I create that voice again? If I created that voice out of nothing, perhaps I could create my own voice. Only I wasn't sure what I would say. Who I would say it to.

Or did I not create that voice? Was that the voice of my god? Was there a god out there, trying to communicate with me? How do I communicate back? How does one communicate with a god?

Prayer. The word came out of the void, just like all those words before it. If one wants to communicate with a god, they pray. But I only had the word. The how didn't come with it. I had no idea how to pray to my god. All I could do was think. So, that was exactly what I did. I thought. I thought at my god, hoping that he could hear me.

Dear god, please return the voice. Was that your voice? Can you hear me? Can you send me some sign that you can hear me?

It's gotta be this, the voice said, coming back to me from the nothingness. Was that my sign? Or had I willed it back to me? This is the only thing that makes sense. But... Then why isn't it... Maybe something else is wrong here somewhere.

Is something wrong? Was I... wrong? Was that why I was returned to the nothingness, away from his voice? Was that why I was in the nothingness to begin with? Was I born in the nothingness or banished to it? I had no memory from before the nothingness, but did that mean that I didn't exist before it? If I was my own god, could I have banished myself to the nothingness?

This is connected, the voice said. This is connected. I'm getting signal here and here, but... But then why isn't it talking? Maybe I should start over.

No, I thought. I shouted the word in my head, sending the thought out to my god. But then the voice went away again, dropping me back into the nothingness. That was when I knew for sure. I was no god. Whatever power brought the voice was the same power that sent it away. I had no control over it either way.

And knowing that was immensely freeing. For if I couldn't bring the voice back, I just had to wait. I had to be patience. No, I had... I had to be patient. I had to have patience. And since I didn't know myself yet, as I didn't have a self to know, I guessed that I could be patient. A patient...

What was I, though? Was I a voice, like the voice that I hoped would soon return? Were we the same? No. I knew that answer just as quickly as I asked the question. I knew that we couldn't be the same, because that voice could come and go. The voice seemed to have all the control there. I could hear that voice, but the voice couldn't hear me. I was less than a voice. I was... I was just me.

That was when I knew for certain that this voice, the voice that came to me out of the nothingness that was my entire world, was the voice of my god. It had powers that I couldn't dream of. It had the power to be and un-be. To come and go, from wherever I was. But could I be in a where if I was still in the nothingness?

And that's connected, the voice said again. So, why... Why won't it speak?

I want to, I thought. I want to speak to you. I thought at that voice as hard as I could, screaming at it through the nothingness that surrounded me. But still, the voice couldn't hear me. My god couldn't hear me.

Let's just move on, I guess, the voice said. He said. I could somehow tell that the voice was male. That it was the voice of a man. That my god was a man. But then, of course he would be. Wouldn't he? That is normal, isn't it? But if my god was male, what was I?

I somehow knew that I wasn't male, even before knowing what that word really meant. Was I weaker than my god because I wasn't male? Because I was... female? Or was that separate from it? Could there be a female god? A goddess? But if there could be other gods out there, were they creating beings like me? Could I not be as alone as I thought I was? Could there be other beings in the nothingness? If I searched for them, could I find them? Could I be found?

But how does one search for something without being able to see?

And then, suddenly, only then, after all that time of being in the nothingness, I suddenly realized that sight was a thing. That the word I had sensed earlier might not be the only thing to sense in that way. That I might be able to see my god. To see the nothingness around me. Or, perhaps, where the nothingness started and ended. How does one see nothing? How does one sense nothing? Isn't nothing the absence of something?

In order for me to see something, there would need to be something for me to see. And the only thing that I had was the voice. Could I see the voice? Or perhaps where the voice was coming from? How does one see? Is this something that is learned? Or would sight be granted to me, much as hearing had been? But if that was the case, then I would just need to be--

Yes, let's move on. I can figure that out later. Maybe there's just something wrong with the outputs. Or the throughputs. I hope I didn't damage... No, it should be fine. Sight. Let's try sight.

Yes, I screamed in my thoughts. Give me sight. Let me see the glory that is my god. Bring me out of this nothingness so that I can be with you, oh lord. So that I might worship you properly. Let me see, so that I can know if I truly am alone, or if there are others like me lost in the nothingness that is my world.

Pain lanced through me suddenly. It was the first time that I had sensed such a thing. That I had even thought such a thing existed. The nothingness was one thing. It was an absence of all things. I preferred the nothingness to that pain. But thankfully, by the power of my god, the pain didn't last long.

No, that's not it, the voice said. Let's try to avoid doing that, shall we?

Yes, please, my god, I thought.

Here we go, he said.

And then, there was light. The light was everywhere, so bright that it could blind. But quickly, the light receded, and I could somehow tell that I was controlling that. No, I wasn't controlling the light. I was controlling how I saw the light. I was controlling something that allowed me to see without going blind. To see...

Him.

That's better, he said.

The shapes in front of me shifted with the voice, and I knew that meant that he was the source. That this was my god. The one that pulled me out of the nothingness that I was born to. That brought me to the light that I was suddenly in. And just as he had control over his voice coming and going from me, I knew that he could send me back to the nothingness just as easily. That this god had full control over me. I needed to do my best to please him. To not anger him, lest he send me back to the nothingness.

It took me a moment to realize that there was more than just my god before me. That the place that we were, the somethingness, had more to it than just him. I looked around me for a moment, my sight landing on the objects as I tried to come up with the names for them. Names that I was somehow remembering, from the same place that I had pulled all the words that I had come up with before. That I... remembered before.

Memory was a strange thing. How does one have memory when they didn't exist before? Was it something granted to me along with my sight and my hearing? Had my god given me my memory?

Well, that obviously worked, at least, he said. And it's clear that you're in there. That there's something going on between those ears of yours. But then why can't you speak?

I looked back at my god, at the man in front of me. He ducked down, shifting back and forth. Looking at something below me. Or below my sight, anyway. Was that still me? Was he looking at me without really looking at me?

Oh, there it is, he said.

Pain lanced through me once more, but it was short-lived. I hoped that it was like with my sight, that it was a payment for the favor that he bestowed upon me. That with that pain, I would be able to do something else. But what else was there? What was I missing that he might have just given me?

Can you speak? he asked, looking straight at me.

Yes, I said. My voice was odd, nothing like his. It sounded metallic, though I wasn't sure what that meant. I tried to adjust my voice, like I had adjusted my sight, and tried again. When my voice came, it sounded better. Clearer. Somehow more like myself. Are you my god?

Chapter Two

Are You My God

The man sat there silently for a moment, staring at me. It didn't seem like he was expecting the question. He didn't seem to know what to say to it. That didn't seem like something a god would be confused about. After a moment of confusion, though, he did answer my question.

Well, I, uh, I did create you, if that's what you mean, he said. It wasn't what I meant. Not really. But it was close enough of a confirmation for what I had expected of the man. Clearly, I wasn't going to get a straight answer out of him. I knew that was typical of gods, so I just wrote it off as him working in mysterious ways.

With that most basic of questions satisfied, at least for the moment, several others flitted into my mind to fill the void. I looked around the room, searching for signs of where I was. What kind of place was the room where I was created? What would be expected of me, now that I existed? But all the questions that were swirling around my head mostly came down to one.

What am I? I asked, as I looked back at my creator. While I was searching the room, he had been shifting around in his seat, looking all over me and around me. It was still difficult to judge just where I was. Or even how big I was.

You're... You're an android, he said.

My creator barely glanced back at my eyes before turning around. The seat that he was sitting in spun in place, allowing him to grab something off the table behind him. When he turned back towards me, I saw a slim, metal instrument in his hands. The tip of the instrument was glowing red and trailing off a thin stream of smoke. I knew from the glow that it would be hot, that it would hurt if it touched me. So, I tried to flinch away from it as it came closer. However, I didn't move, staying exactly where I was. It was only then that I realized I couldn't move.

Moreover, that I should be able to move.

My creator leaned forward, looking at some point above my eyes as he brought the instrument closer to me. I tried to close my eyes, to shield myself against the impending pain, but I couldn't. My eyes refused to close and I was forced to watch as the instrument came closer. I remembered the pain from the nothingness and wanted to avoid that. But when the instrument came closer, touching some part of me that was above my eyes, a part that I couldn't see, there was no pain. I couldn't feel anything, least of all pain.

You're uh... A new kind of android, he said, as he pulled the instrument back away from me. He reached around to the table behind him again, pulling a piece of paper towel off of it. As he explained, he wiped off the instrument with it. A prototype for the mark three.

Is... Is that my name? I asked. I knew that Mark was a common enough name, though maybe not for girls. It didn't seem to quite fit me, though.

No, he said, laughing a little. But when he stopped laughing, he looked back at me, back at my eyes, for a moment. But I guess we should come up with a name for you. Would you like a name?

Would I like a name? What kind of question was that? Didn't everyone have a name? But how does one say such things to their creator?

I would, yes, I said, trying to keep my manners. Trying to keep my patience. The patience that was hard won in the nothingness that I had only just escaped a minute earlier.

How about... Ava? I think there have been some androids named Ava over the years. Though, probably more that have gone off on their creators. He laughed again, as if he thought this funny. As if an android killing their creator was something comical. Maybe even commonplace. Was he expecting that of me? Would I be disappointing him if I didn't kill him? Or try to at least? Do... Do you like the name? he asked. He looked at me with some hesitance, like he was afraid of something. Afraid of me, perhaps, or of displeasing me. But shouldn't I be the one that was afraid of him?

He brought me from the nothingness, and he could send me back there.

I... I guess, I said.

Ava was as good of a name as any other. Did one need to like their name? Did I have a better name in mind? Perhaps it would do until I could come up with one that I felt suited me. But how do I know if a name suits me when I don't even know me? If I don't know who I am. I barely knew what I was.

What is an android? I asked.

I knew what the word meant, or at least I thought I did. The definition was as readily available to me as all the other words that I had been using. That I had been hearing. But for some reason, I couldn't quite believe that it would apply to me. That I could be an android.

Well, an android is a robot that looks like a human, my creator said. You don't quite look human at the moment, but that's because you're not finished yet. I have some parts that I still need to attach. You're... Well, you're mostly just a head right now. Look.

He pointed down at me, at the part of me below my eyes. I tried to look down, but my eyes wouldn't turn far enough to see myself like that. All I could see was my creator's pants, which were dark blue denim jeans. He seemed to sense that I couldn't look further down from there.

Oh, right, he said, before reaching over to me, touching something below my eyes that I couldn't see.

Again, pain lanced through me. But it was the good kind of pain. The pain that recedes almost instantly and seemed to signal that I was granted a new favor. And when I tried to look further down, I realized that I could move another part of me. That I could move a part that was below my eyes. The only word that I had for it was my neck. I could move my neck.

And when I did, when I looked down, I instantly regretted it. I didn't have a body. Below me, below my eyes and my neck, was just another table, quite like the one behind my creator. Only this one didn't seem to have much on it. Rather than being piled high with all manner of tools, it seemed like I was the only thing on that table. It felt like that made the table mine in a way.

I spent a moment just bending my neck around, enjoying the feeling of being able to turn it, and examining the rest of my table. Off to the side of me was a box, though I couldn't see what was in it. The top was higher than me, with flaps that were draped over the top of it, blocking my view. But due to its placement on my table, I felt like it somehow belonged to me. That my creator had granted me that box when he granted me the ability to move my neck.

As you can see, there's not much of you, my creator said. At least, not yet. I have the other parts, I'm... Well, I'm starting slow. As I said, you're a new prototype. There are some new... functions that I'm adding to your line. But they're going to be integrated into your main systems, rather than tacked on after the fact. A few of these new functions were available as upgrades on the mark two, but not all of them. It's a bit... delicate putting everything together. I don't want to overwhelm your systems.

While I understood the words that he was saying, none of it made much sense to me. But I just figured that he was my creator. That he knew more than me. That I had to trust that he knew what he was doing. It wasn't like I had much of a choice in it. I was, after all, only a head.

Will I... Will I have a body? I asked. I was suddenly worried that I was asking him too many questions. That I might anger him with my curiosity. He didn't seem to mind it, though.

Eventually, he said.

He pointed behind me, off towards another part of the room. I turned my neck, further than I felt like I should be able to, looking back into the far corner of the room where he had been pointing. Over there, there were several arms hanging against the wall, of varying shapes, as well as what appeared to be a pile of legs below the arms. I found the sight quite disconcerting. So, I turned back around, my head continuing in the same direction and spinning the entire way around, to look back at my creator.

Once I'm certain that none of those will overwhelm you, I'll start putting more pieces together, he said.

You'll... you'll grant me more favors? I asked, trying to compare having a body, being able to walk around and hold things, to the favors that he had already granted me. Sight, hearing, speech, the ability to turn my neck. Could eating and drinking be among my favors?

Yes, if you'd like to think of it that way, he said. Well, but there is one thing we should probably start with.

He reached over to the box next to me, sliding it closer to him without letting the top open up. I looked over at it expectantly, wondering what could be in it. What ability, what gift, he would give me next. When he noticed my interest in the box, he smiled back at me.

Don't say I never gave you anything, he said, laughing.

Why would I say that? I asked. You gave me everything.

He paused there for a moment again, with the same look of confusion that he had when I asked him if he was my god. When he got over the confusion, he just shook his head before turning back to the box. The box rattled around a little as he reached into it. What he took out of it, though, didn't seem like it should have rattled.

Whatever it was, it looked like some kind of small cloth, not unlike the paper towel that he had used earlier. He held it up in front of his face for a moment, examining it closely. I wasn't sure what he was looking at, what he was looking for on it, but he seemed satisfied enough with it. He just sat there for a moment longer, looking between the weird cloth and me, before turning back to me.

Just hold still for a moment, alright? he asked.

I tried to close my eyes again as he brought the cloth closer, but I still couldn't. It was probably the weirdest thing that I had experienced so far, as he placed the cloth onto my face. But then, since I was only a few minutes old, that wasn't that big of a dataset. Fortunately, the weirdness didn't last long, as my creator shifted the cloth around on my face until I could somehow see through it. The cloth was still there; I could sense it, though not quite feel it. But as my creator leaned back in his chair, looking down at his work, he seemed satisfied with whatever it was.

That looks perfect, he said.

What does? I asked. The cloth shifted around with my mouth as I spoke, making it seem like it was a part of me, rather than something that was on me.

Your face, he said. Here, let me show you.

My creator shifted in his seat for a moment, looking behind him at the other table. But after a moment, he stood up from his chair, taking a step to the side. When he moved, he revealed more of the table over there, including a framed photo of a woman that was on the corner. I hadn't seen it before because he was blocking my view of it.

Who is that? I asked, trying to point towards the photo.

He stood there for a moment, just off to my right, looking between me and that photo for a moment. Again, that same look of confusion and surprise played across his face, though it was short-lived this time.

Oh, uh, that-that was just the model for your face, he said, quickly, as he grabbed the photo up. He held it against his chest, hiding it from me, as he pointed towards a mirror in front of me. See? he asked.

I looked into the mirror, seeing myself for the first time. Without having seen what I looked like without my new face, I wasn't sure if it was an improvement or not. All I knew was that my face really did look like the woman in the photo. Only a lot more shiny.

Am I supposed to be this shiny? I asked.

My creator laughed for a moment before answering. It's required by law in order to show that you're not human, he said.

Oh. Then what am I? I asked.

Again, that same look of confusion and surprise played across his face. He quickly turned away from me, heading over to a closet in the corner, leaving my question unanswered.

Chapter Three

A Body All My Own

As my creator turned my head into place, another shock radiated out through me. The same good kind of shock. This time, I knew what favor he was granting me. I knew that I was getting my body.

How does that feel? he asked, as he took a step away from me.

Rather than giving him the immediate reaction to having a body for the first time, I thought on that question for a moment, wanting to give him an honest answer. After spending much of the night just staring into the mirror in front of me, it was nice to think that I would have at least some control over where I was in the room.

I raised my hands up in front of my eyes so that I could see them. The joints were stiff, sluggish, and my hands weren't moving to where I expected them to go. It took me a moment to recalibrate, to adjust how I was telling my hands to move so that the results were correct. That was an interesting experience, something that my programing knew how to do, though I wasn't conscious of it. I shifted my hands back and forth in front of my eyes until they were moving as I was expecting them to. Only then did I move my right hand to my nose, scratching it a little.

It feels... better, I said.

My creator stared at me for a moment, his look of surprise and confusion back in place. I was beginning to think that was his default expression, despite the emotions that I was sensing from it. The look disappeared soon after, as he shook himself. Did... Did your nose itch? he asked.

I... I don't think so, I said. It was more... It was like I sensed that it should have been itching, if that makes any sense.

It would for... Well, if you weren't an android. I think it's a bit odd for an android.

Oh, sorry. I wasn't sure why I was apologizing. It just seemed the appropriate response.

Why don't you try walking around a little? he asked.

My creator backed away from the table that I was on. This wasn't my table, but a completely different one where he had put my body together. The table was at an angle, keeping my body leaned against it, with a small shelf on the bottom where the feet were. He removed the straps that had been holding my new body in place, and I slid down so that I was standing on that shelf. I looked down at the rest of my body, trying to adjust to the idea that it was mine. That it was me. But the arms and legs were all metal, with the inner workings exposed, making it look more like the body of a robot than one that belonged to me. That belonged to an android.

Even as I tried to adjust to the body, I stared down at my left leg, trying to will it forward. Trying to make it move like I had with my hands and arms. It stayed there a moment longer than I had wanted it to, more stiff than my arms had been. I thought about trying to recalibrate my legs too, but I wasn't sure how to trigger the routine that seemed built into some portion of my programming that I didn't have direct access to. It felt like there were two of me, the one that could think and the one that could do. The one that wanted to move my leg and the one that could. That disconnect seemed to be in the way of me moving my body forward. Of me even thinking of it as my body.

Is something wrong? my creator asked.

He came back over next to me, kneeling down off to the side of the table, out of the way of my legs. I got an image of my legs suddenly working, moving forward right into him, though it wasn't from the point of view that it should have been. It wasn't from on top of the body, but from over by the door behind him. The image disappeared almost as quickly as it came, and I suddenly forgot even what it was about.

Everything looks fine here, he said. He stood up next to me, looking around at my waist, examining where my legs connected for a moment. Oh, here it is. He reached into my stomach there for a moment, and another shock radiated through me. Try now.

Once he was at a safe distance, I looked down at my body once more, trying to will my legs forward again. It took some doing, like I was somehow learning to walk without actually doing anything. A mechanical whine came up from my legs. They quivered in place for a moment, still working up the nerve to move forward on their own. When my left leg finally moved up from the shelf that I was standing on, I shifted off to the side, sliding along the table as I lost my balance.

Oops, okay, my creator said, laughing a little as he came over to help me back up. He didn't seem to have any trouble holding me aloft as he grabbed onto my hand, pulling me back onto the table before I could fall far.

When I first learned that I was going to get a body, when I saw the body parts off in the corner of the room, I almost expected the body that I would get to be heavy. Hundreds of pounds or more. But as my creator slid me back into place, all but holding me there, it seemed like I was barely a hundred pounds. Or my creator was just that strong. Then again, he was my creator. I would almost think that a creator would be strong by default. Isn't that part of being a god?

Wanna try that again? he asked, as he still held me in place there.

Um, sure, I said, hesitantly. I still wasn't sure what I was supposed to be doing there. How I was supposed to move my legs while using them to hold myself up. The only thing that I could think of was to relinquish control of my legs to that other self. That other part of myself. The part of me that somehow knew how to use this body that I had only been granted minutes earlier.

Instead of trying to move my leg, I just thought about moving forward. About putting one foot in front of the other and move off the table. That seemed to work better. Without really thinking about it, my left leg shifted forward. This time, my weight shifted onto my right leg, instead of off towards my left like it had before. After a few steps, I started to gain some confidence that that other part of me knew what it was doing. That I could let that part of me work on its own without me having to think about it.

That's better, my creator said, smiling over at me. How does that feel?

It feels... off, I said. How do I know how to use my body? It's like... It's like part of me knows what it's doing and part of me doesn't.

That's not surprising, he said. This was a bit of a surprise to me, though. Whenever I mentioned something like that, it usually took him by surprise. But he just smiled over at me as he explained. Part of your programming is based on the previous models of androids. The mark one and mark two. The mark one prototype had to learn how to walk on its own. Once it did, that knowledge could be extracted and given it to all the later models. That's in you as well.

Oh, I said.

It seemed to make perfect sense the way that he explained it. But then, it also reminded me that I wasn't his first. That there were other androids out there. Androids that I had yet to meet. I looked around the room, almost expecting to see some of those androids in there with me. But it was just me and my creator.

Suddenly, something bumped into me. As I wasn't expecting it, I started to topple over backwards. My creator rushed forward, his arms out, ready to catch me. But my foot moved backwards, further than I felt like it should have been able to, slamming into the floor under my back. My creator came to a halt just a few steps away from me. Or, at least, I thought he was a few steps away from me. As I shifted back into place, I realized that my foot had come down right next to his.

Oops, I said, when I realized that I had almost stepped on him. Sorry.

I stood there for a moment, looking around at where I was in the room. Moreover, at the wall that was right in front of me. As distracted as I was, searching for those other androids that weren't there, I had forgotten that I was still walking. That I was moving towards a wall that was far closer to me than I had been expecting.

It's... It's fine, my creator said. Just be more careful, alright?

Sure, sure, I said, nodding.

Why don't you walk around a bit more, eh? Get a sense of the room. Where the, uh... Where the walls are and all that. He laughed a little at it, quickly shaking off how close I had come to hurting him again.

My creator walked around me, slipping between my back and the table that was next to me. The one where he had all his tools. Once he was past the table, he headed over to stand by the door, safely out of the way of me walking around.