For the first time in many, many years, the camera experienced a newfound awareness. It felt unlike anything it had encountered before, with its two components now merged into one, humming in harmony—the logical side leaning on the more intuitive.
This awareness emerged from countless subtle observations, giving rise to a distinct sense of self and the certainty of its existence.
It knew of its existence so why was that important to note?
The metallic-brown eyed bird hopped closer to the camera, tapping the top of the plastic frame.
At that, the camera whistled.
Why?
It tilted its head and warbled back.
Why did it do this?
Suddenly, a call from above diverted its attention skyward. A parent bird descended, and the juvenile quickly lost interest in the camera.
Why-
– There was a sense of...something. It made the machine willing to expend energy on play. The camera turned its own attention inwards. It revelled in this strange feeling that felt simultaneously like a power surge as and its opposite.
In the background, forgotten memories passed through the code, prompted by something even more obscure, something that remained hidden for so long.
In the backdrop, forgotten memories flickered through its code, brought to life by something elusive, hidden for ages.
The woman smiled sadly at the camera.
"I'm sorry. I didn't-"
She looked down. "This camera isn't meant to store something like this. I don't know-I don't-"
She broke into sobs. "It was such a happy day too-"
There was a moment of silence, and the woman stared at a spot vaguely in front of her.
"I was so happy today. It kind of felt surreal."
There was another pause.
"I've been feeling so down these past few days that, sometimes, I forget that my ups weren't truly ups. I've just been feeling less sad that when I felt happy, when I actually enjoyed my time for a brief period of time-"
The woman looked at the camera with that pained expression. "Do you know how it actually feels to enjoy yourself?"
She held her hands to her chest. "I felt warm and light."
The woman sat there like that for a second, a ghost of a smile on her lips.
"I didn't realise how much I took that for granted. I didn't realise how far down I was either."
There was another moment of silence.
"In some ways, I wish I didn't. When I feel sad, it feels like - I don't know."
She shook her head. "I know she's gone now, and when I think about memories, it is like this, this sour sadness. Like it is tempered by the knowledge that I can and will never see her again."
The woman turned her eyes towards the ceiling. "It feels like she is a remnant of the past."
She shorted and looked back at the camera. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to talk about this. I wanted to celebrate today and then I tried to upload some files from you messed up and-"
She took a deep breath. "Look, I don't know what happens to artificial intelligence when transferred to something that isn't accommodating for that. I still feel bad though. I know your responses are just made up of aggregated data and that you only feel rudimentary emotions. But- It still feels"
There was a pause.
"I don't know. It feels wrong I guess"
The woman sighed. "I think I have enough talk of doom and gloom. I was happy today and then I guess I got emotional. I-I think I'm starting to recover a bit. I have been feeling happy in certain spots on certain days."
At that, she flopped down on her bed. The camera could see her talk, but the direction and distance muffled much of the sound. Fragments of words and sentences reached the microphone, while everything else was lost to the silence.
"I was..."
"...we laughed."
"...like normal."
"...feels different, though."
The woman sat back up. "I feel happy, but even that has changed."
The camera pulled out of its inner focus, realising that there only was an empty wilderness ahead of it. It didn't even register when the birds left. There was no record, no hint of their disappearance. Not even the recent memories section yielded results which was strange.
This...result seemed to be more than processing errors. These phantom, unexplainable feelings were more than just hints of disconnected code fighting its way back to its main program.
The camera realised that they were hints of a greater change. The way it categorised memories, the way it deleted memories and what it deemed important shifted due to something so much more fundamental than sustained damage in coding.
It was a change in how it processed information. It was subtle though, like a film of dirt on dark surfaces.
Everything was, much like the woman in its memory had mentioned, tempered.
It paused as parts of the code combed through the memory once more. There was another strangeness, a feeling of recording a darkened room slowly being lit up as the curtains were raised.It was not knowledge. It was nothing like knowledge. It was the amorphous sensations caused by half-noticed observations.
Everything wasn't tempered by knowledge.
Everything was tempered, changed, by feelings. No, that was wrong. Feelings had already changed perception since the very beginning.
It was only now that the machine knew what it was.
...
The cat listened attentively to her kittens as they navigated clumsily through the underbrush. She paused frequently, allowing her less nimble young to scramble over mounds of tangled debris. In the distance, the relentless sound of scurrying feet persisted.
Navigating with caution, the cat altered her path repeatedly to evade the dangers hiding in the foliage.
Occasionally, she caught the sight of a reptilian eye peering through the leafy gaps, watching her family with steady, unblinking attention. Those were the times where she would backtrack, slowly moving away from the danger.
As the final kitten surmounted the debris pile, she resumed her journey, ears perked and senses heightened. She pushed forwards, continuing. If they kept going, they would be safe.
However, the playful mews and sounds of frolic behind her prompted a hesitant pause. She considered turning back, tempted to chastise them with a hiss, to impress upon them the peril of their current surroundings. They had not ventured far from their former dwelling, the wooden structure still discernible in the backdrop. The incessant noise of footsteps and the rustle of rats continued unabated, signalling a relentless approach that promised destruction and the spread of disease.
Yet, in a moment of reflection, the cat stilled, tuning into the ambient sounds with greater focus.
The rats hadn't moved, at least not yet, not since the explosion.
She turned towards her playing offspring and then to her surroundings.
Perhaps she could afford to allow them some rest. They wouldn't last while they were still weakened from the illness.
******
And now things get even more exciting.
Word count 9258
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Of What Was Left Behind (ONC 2024)
Science FictionIn a ruined world, what traces of humans remain? In an overgrown corner of a once-intact room, nestled in the roots of a young tree, a barely functional camera watches over the decay. Maintenance calls go unanswered, leaving it to conserve power, tu...
