Almost Human

The walk to class felt like it took forever, even though I knew it was just my nerves dragging out every step. MIT’s campus was bustling, as usual, and I tried to remind myself I wasn’t the only one feeling out of place. Plenty of people were starting new things today.

When I finally reached the lecture hall, I ducked in quickly, grateful it wasn’t packed yet. The room was huge—easily sixty seats—and I scanned for a spot near the back. Less noticeable. Safe.

As I settled in, I tugged at the strap of my bag, checking that I’d brought everything. Notebooks, pens, my laptop. Everything was in its place, but my heart still pounded. You’ve got this, I reminded myself, trying to slow my breathing. It’s just class. You’ve done this a million times before—just not in person.

The hall began to fill up, people filing in like they owned the place, their chatter rising around me. I caught sight of a tall, blonde guy walking in, the kind who’d fit right into one of those frat houses in a TV show. He laughed with the people around him—friendly enough, but I was grateful when he sat far away.

I shifted in my seat, trying to focus on anything else, and opened my notebook. As I did, a small piece of paper slipped out and fell onto the desk. Frowning, I picked it up, realizing it was a note from Ender.

Seren, it read in his neat handwriting, you’re ready for this. Be yourself—everyone else is taken. I’ll be here when you return. Ender.

A small smile tugged at my lips, and for the first time that morning, the tightness in my chest eased. I tucked the note into my pocket, feeling lighter.

Just then, the professor strode in, calling the room to order. My nerves flared up again, but I reminded myself of Ender’s words. I could do this.

The class began with an overview of the syllabus, the professor explaining the advanced robotics concepts we’d be covering this semester. My nerves stayed, but they faded into the background as I focused on the lecture.

Toward the end, the professor cleared his throat. “Alright, before we wrap up, I’m assigning groups for your semester project. I want each group to meet briefly today.”

He started reading off names, and my heart skipped a beat when I heard mine.

“Yellow Group: Seren Wilkes, Theo Martinez, Gemma Fowler, and Lochlain O’Connor.”

I glanced around the room as the names were called, trying to spot my group members. A few seats down, a dark-haired guy called out. “Yellow group,” waving his arms to signal to gather there. I gathered my things, heart pounding again, but this time there was a flicker of excitement beneath the nerves. My new group. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

I stood up and made my way toward the group, gripping my bag a little too tightly. Theo, the guy who’d waved me over, greeted me with a bright smile. His round glasses and soft, nerdy charm made him instantly approachable.

“You’re Seren, right?” He held out his hand, and I shook it, already feeling a bit of the tension ease. “We already know each other,” he indicated himself and the other two group members. “So, you were our only unknown,” he explained.

Next to him, a petite redhead with sharp eyes barely looked up from her phone. “Gemma,” she said with a nod, already tapping something into her phone with purpose. “I’ll start a group text—Yellow Group, let’s crush this.”

Theo chuckled, shaking his head. “Always five steps ahead, huh, Gemma?”

She grinned, already in full organizer mode. “Of course. No time for slacking. We’ll meet up tomorrow to brainstorm. None of us are last-minute types, right?”

Lain, tall and slim, stood to the side, quiet but clearly observant. “I’m in,” she said softly, her voice carrying a calm steadiness.

I nodded, grateful for her quiet presence. “Same. Tomorrow works.”

Gemma immediately began exchanging numbers with everyone, creating a group text before we even left the classroom. “Alright, Yellow Group, let’s slay this semester.”

With plans set, we all grabbed our things, and I felt a weight lift from my shoulders. I hadn’t expected to feel comfortable so quickly, but the group’s dynamic—Gemma’s confidence, Theo’s friendliness, Lain’s quiet calm—made it easier to settle in.

As I headed through the crowded hallway, I slipped my hand into my pocket and felt the note from Ender. I ran my fingers over the paper, smiling. Somehow, things were going better than I could have imagined.

I made my way across campus, the buzz of conversation and the hum of daily life swirling around me. Robotics and AI Ethics was a more advanced course, and from what I had read, the debates often got heated. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to dive into another class so quickly, but I knew it would be one of the most relevant to my work. And, oddly, I was eager for it.

When I stepped into the lecture hall, I quickly found a seat toward the middle, pulling out my notebook and settling in. The professor, a stern woman with sharp eyes, didn’t waste time getting started. Within minutes, we were diving into discussions about the moral implications of AI—how far was too far?

I listened, taking notes diligently. But I couldn’t help but think about Ender. Was I treating him ethically? Was it right for me to feel such a deep connection with him when, technically, he was just doing what he was designed for?

The discussion turned to autonomous decision-making in AI. One student raised a question about whether machines with complex algorithms could ever develop true autonomy—or if they were always tied to their programming. The professor opened it up for debate, and the room erupted into conversation. I scribbled more notes, half caught in the dialogue, half lost in my own thoughts about Ender.

When the class finally ended, I made a mental note to do some extra reading on the topic. I wasn’t sure where I stood, but the idea that AI could one day become more than just tools—more like companions—was too close to home.

I packed up my things and left the classroom, my mind whirring. As I headed home, the lingering conversations from class melded with the thoughts I couldn’t shake about Ender.

Back at the apartment, I stepped through the door and found Ender tidying up the living room. He glanced up, giving me that familiar calm look.

“Welcome back, Seren,” he said. “How was your day?”

I hesitated for a moment, dropping my bag by the door. “It was… good. A lot to think about, though.”

Ender’s head tilted slightly, clearly picking up on my mood. “Do you wish to discuss it?”

I let out a soft laugh, already moving toward the couch. “Maybe in a bit. Right now, I just want to relax.”

Ender, ever attentive, was beside me in an instant. I collapsed onto the couch, stretching my legs out, and without a word, he placed my feet in his lap. His hands rested gently on my ankles, a comforting presence.

“Your muscles are tenser than usual. Your posture suggests mental strain,” he noted as he lightly massaged my feet, the action familiar and soothing.

“Yeah,” I sighed, leaning back against the cushions. “It was… a lot. Good, but a lot. We got assigned group projects, and I met some pretty cool people, actually.”

Ender’s hands continued their steady rhythm. “That’s a positive outcome, then.”

I nodded, feeling the weight of the day slowly melt away. “Yeah, I wasn’t expecting to feel this… comfortable so soon. But the group’s nice. I think it’s going to be a good semester.”

He tilted his head slightly. “I predicted your likelihood of making connections today was high. I’m glad it has gone well.”

I couldn’t help but smile at his matter-of-fact tone. “Thanks for the vote of confidence. Oh, and your note?” I glanced at him, feeling a flicker of warmth. “It helped. More than you know.”

Ender’s gaze softened just a little, though his expression remained neutral. “I’m pleased it was useful. Would you like to elaborate on your day further, or shall we engage in another activity to help you unwind?”

I thought about it for a moment, sinking deeper into the couch. “Maybe later. Let’s just sit for a bit.”