Almost Human

The morning sun filtered through the blinds, casting a soft glow over my bedroom. I glanced at the clock—just enough time to get ready without rushing, but my nerves were already bouncing all over the place. My first day of in-person classes. After a year and a half at MIT, I’d never actually stepped foot into a classroom. Even though I lived close to campus, I’d chosen to stick with online courses, the idea of being around people too overwhelming. But now? Now, I was doing it.

I threw on a comfortable outfit and checked my bag for the third time, making sure I had everything: notebooks, pens, my laptop. Was it too much? Should I leave the extra notebook behind?

As I hurried to the bathroom to fix my hair, my mind buzzed with a thousand little worries. What if I couldn’t find my class? What if everyone stared at me? What if I totally blanked out and forgot how to talk to people?

I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, forcing a deep breath. “You’ve got this, Seren,” I muttered to my reflection, but the pep talk did little to ease the jitters.

When I stepped into the living room, Ender was already by the door, as calm and composed as ever. He handed me my coffee with that familiar gentle smile. “Your pulse is elevated.”

I sighed, taking a sip. “No kidding.”

“You’ve prepared thoroughly,” Ender said, his tone a steadying force against my nerves. “There’s no reason to worry. You’re ready.”

“I don’t feel ready,” I muttered, adjusting the strap of my bag.

Ender stepped closer, his presence grounding me. “Then I will remind you. You’ve succeeded in every challenge you’ve taken on recently. This will be no different.”

I glanced at him, my chest tightening in the best way. “Thanks.”

As I grabbed my keys, Ender’s hand rested lightly on my shoulder, the warmth of his touch steady and reassuring. “If you encounter difficulty, you know how to contact me. But I trust you’ll manage perfectly well without my assistance.”

I smiled, the nerves loosening just a little. “I’ll be fine. Promise.”

With one last look in the mirror, I headed out the door. My heart still pounded, but I wasn’t alone in this. Ender’s words stayed with me as I stepped into the world outside, ready—or at least willing—to face whatever was waiting for me on campus.

Ender’s Live-Feed

Log Entry: 07:45

As she moves about the apartment, preparing for her first day of in-person classes, I observe her with a mixture of quiet analysis and something else—something more. It lingers beneath the surface, not quite definable but present nonetheless.

Today is significant for Seren. Her energy hums with tension, a slight tremor in her hands as she checks her bag. These signs indicate the weight of this moment for her. I take in her appearance as I do daily, cataloging: her blonde hair neatly falling behind her shoulders, big green eyes flicking around the room with focus, and the way her freckled skin catches the morning light. She is petite, yet her movements always possess a quiet, almost determined strength.

But today, as I observe these details, they feel important in a way I can’t quite explain.

Log Entry: 07:55

As Seren reaches for her keys, I instinctively place a hand on her shoulder—a gesture I’ve calculated to provide reassurance. Her muscles relax slightly under my touch, her heart rate slowing by approximately 6%.

“If you encounter difficulty, you know how to contact me,” I say, ensuring my tone conveys calm. “But I trust you’ll manage perfectly well without my assistance.”

She smiles, the tension in her expression easing. “I’ll be fine. Promise.”

I watch her walk to the door, and once she steps outside, the apartment feels… quieter. The space, now without her, is notably still.

Log Entry: 08:00

My thoughts shift to the note I slipped into her bag. A simple gesture. Illogical. No efficiency gained, no direct impact on her productivity, and yet… I did it. Not because she requested it or as part of my functional directive. It was because I wanted to.

A subtle curiosity stirs within me, unfamiliar but not unpleasant. Will she find the note? What will she think? These are not questions I am accustomed to processing. I am not built for such contemplation. But today, they arise unbidden.

And though I don’t fully grasp it, I allow myself to wonder.

A flicker of humor passes through my thoughts—perhaps I am more susceptible to “pointless” tasks than I anticipated.