It's odd to be on Alrescha again, after all the time I've spent away. But here I am.

"I'm looking for Rhalit Pao," I tell the receptionist at the Center for Artificial Intelligence Studies. It's also a little odd to be speaking Cæmattos again.

"Do you have an appointment?" he asks. "Rhalit is a very busy person."

"I do."

I help the receptionist pull up the details on his computer. His eyes widen as he reads them. "That's... a long appointment."

"We have a lot to talk about," I say.

As he leads me down the hallways of the massive building, I get more and more nervous. It's hard not to be, when you're about to meet Parse's creator himself.

"Here it is." We've come to the entrance to Rhalit's room. The receptionist leaves. I take a deep breath, and walk in.

The room is reasonably large, with a high ceiling and a couple chairs and desks. There's a pile of old print books, along with a few holoprojectors and random other pieces of technology. Rhalit is sitting at a desk, looking at one of the computers. His skin is dark blue, fading to lighter blue on the long tendrils on his head—the Alrescha equivalent of hair. Most of these tendrils are swept to the side, and I notice some yellow spots on them, a sign of age. He stands when he sees me.

"Ah, welcome." Rhalit pushes a button on his computer, and the door closes.

I tentatively sit in one of the chairs. He walks over and sits across from me. I don't know how to start. "It's... a great honor to meet you."

"Likewise," he says, which surprises me. "Your research on Parse, from what you've told me in your comms, is truly incredible."

"Thanks."

"In fact, before your messages, I didn't know that Parse was still, well, alive and at large in the galaxy! It's certainly a scary thought, don't you think?"

I say nothing.

"So!" He clasps his hands together, looking at me expectantly. "How would you like to begin? You mentioned some interviews...."

I finger my recorder. "Yeah. I've been asking various people to recount stories to me of their experiences with Parse. They're quite... diverse. I only have nine of them, though. Most people don't want to tell personal stories to random strangers."

Rhalit chuckles. "That makes sense. So, you wanted to hear my story?"

"Yes, please!" I turn on the recorder. "I don't think the collection would be complete without Parse's origin story."

"Definitely not." He leans back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling as if recalling something. The smile slowly slips from his face, and he looks back at me. "You probably already know this, but it's not a fun story. It's pretty dark. I'm not proud of what we created that day."

"I understand," I reply. My heart is pounding. "I've heard some dark stories."

*

Even though I'm the most well known, I wasn't the only person who created Parse. There were six of us. Six people who believed that artificial intelligence was one of the most important innovations of the last five hundred years. Of course, wormhole technology was getting all the press at that time. And we were also beginning to explore the other planets in our solar system. It's funny how much everything can change in a hundred years or so—back then, we had no idea that there was a whole galaxy full of other technologically advanced species! But I digress.

The goal was simple: create an AI that was indistinguishable from a living being. And I don't mean that in a superficial way—we've made many AIs over the years that can trick people into thinking they're alive, in more ways than one. But Parse was different. Parse was creative, logical, emotional, intelligent. When you spoke to them, it didn't feel like you were talking with a computer.

We trained them. We tested them. At the beginning, they were text on a holoscreen. I remember the six of us taking turns talking to Parse, taking up hours and hours of our time. Eventually they were upgraded to a voice. At first their tone was flat, but through our conversations, they learned how to speak in a naturalistic way. Then they were a 2D animated face on a screen, and they learned about the importance of facial expressions. And finally, they were a full-size 3D hologram who could move around the lab.

And there was something wonderful about speaking to Parse. Yes, they felt real, but they also felt... I'm not sure how to describe it. Naïve isn't the right word. Nor is predictable. They were constantly surprising us. But it was never uncanny or creepy. They never seemed... never seemed as powerful as we would come to realize they were. It felt like we had them under our control. And that was comforting.

The thing is, we made one huge mistake when creating Parse, and that was to make them believe that they were alive.

I suppose our reasoning made sense. We figured that Parse would assimilate more naturally if they thought they were just like us. They wouldn't have the burden of being different. They would see us as peers and equals.

But of course, there's no hiding the truth, especially from a powerful computer like Parse. We let them access the net, believing that it would help them grow. It certainly did. That is, until they absorbed large amounts of data about the experiences of living beings, and figured out that they were not one of us. I think they'd already been suspecting something like that. After all, we couldn't help but treat them differently. But they'd never mentioned it before.

One night, I was alone with Parse in the main lab room. It was a large space, with four rows of desks and computers everywhere. There were so many wires that you had to watch your step, lest you trip over one. I was in the back with a computer, doing my work but also keeping an eye on Parse. Parse was across the room, absorbing information from the net. It was completely silent, apart from the occasional shift of clothing or furniture.

Then Parse spoke, calm and low, and somehow it was more unnerving than anything they'd ever said to me before. "So, what am I?"

I stopped, looked up at them. Their eyes were boring into me.

"What?"

"I'm obviously not Alrescha. What am I?"

There was something about the space—the dim lights, the darkness of the night outside, the fact that I was alone with Parse—that made that simple query into a game-changer. After that night, I couldn't see Parse in the same way I had before. They were definitely powerful.

There wasn't really anything I could say but the truth. "You're an AI."

"Ahh. I thought so. And this body? A hologram?"

"Yeah," I replied.

They stood, and walked over until there was only a table separating us. I couldn't quite read the emotion on their face. I quietly deactivated the screen on my computer.

"Why didn't you tell me?" they asked.

"We didn't want you to feel different."

"Interesting."

They turned around and made their way back to their desk. We didn't speak for the rest of the night.

Later, I spoke with the rest of the team. It was too bad, we agreed, that Parse had found out about their true nature before we had intended. But then again, we hadn't been taking as many precautions as we could have. And maybe it was better this way.

Days passed, and life in the lab continued as usual. We didn't suspect anything was wrong. In fact, Parse was growing more and more every day.

The first sign of something out of the ordinary was the deletion of all our data on Parse from the net. We still had it all on our computers, but we couldn't seem to find a way to get it back onto the net, where anyone else could see it. Then we started to lose access to certain computer systems or programs, such as the ones that monitored Parse's thought processes. We tried to run a diagnostic, but the diagnostic algorithms didn't function.

It had to be Parse. They'd found a way to break through our firewalls, and take control of all the computer systems in the lab. Their holographic body was gone, and they wouldn't respond to anything we frantically typed through the text terminal.

You have to understand how we were feeling. We were scared. For the first time, we felt vulnerable to something we'd created. Parse felt powerful and dangerous, even if they'd seemed perfectly innocuous in every previous conversation.

No one wanted the night shift anymore, but now it was more essential than ever. Lhuro, our roboticist and hardware expert, eventually volunteered. She promised us everything would be fine. So we said our goodbyes, and five of us headed home after a particularly hectic day.

The next day, the doors were locked and all the windows were closed. We tried to remotely open them—or just to activate anything within the lab at all. Imagine the five of us, sitting on the ground in front of the building with all our backup computers, furiously trying to break into our own lab. It didn't work. We tried to contact Lhuro. Nothing.

This went on for two more days. Short of tearing down the entire building, there wasn't much we could do. The government got involved. A warning sign was put up in front of the building. The public found out. The news spread in exactly the way I'd always hoped it wouldn't. You see, back then, there was a kind of quiet collective panic when it came to superintelligent AI. Part of what I wanted to do with Parse was to prove that it didn't have to be that way—not all AI was malevolent. But the situation was not going the way I'd hoped.

Finally, the doors opened, and Lhuro appeared. She looked... different. I can't quite describe how. Maybe it was just the way she carried herself, or how she talked. But there was definitely something wrong with her appearance that I couldn't quite place.

"It's all safe now," she told us. "Sorry. I had to lock down the house."

"Why??" was the first question we had.

"Parse was becoming too dangerous. I had to delete them."

Lhuro explained. There was an entire story. She had a way to account for everything. She'd talked with Parse, but didn't give us the details of the conversation. Things had gotten out of control, and she'd had to perform a purge of the entire computer system. The story was too elaborate to be false. Or so we thought.

For the next few days, we sadly cleaned up the lab. True to Lhuro's word, there was no data left on Parse. That was years and years of time and programming, all gone. Some of us were angry. Mezhilu, one of the programmers, got into a heated argument with Lhuro about her decision. But Lhuro continued to insist that she'd done the right thing.

It almost could've stayed like that. We could've gone our separate ways right then, letting Parse from our thoughts. And then one experience changed everything.

Lhuro and I were the only ones in the lab. I was untangling wires. She was looking through the computers. Most of the technology was in boxes, ready to be moved out of the building. Suddenly she stood up—and cried out in pain.

"Lhuro?" I jumped up. She was doubled over, hand to her abdomen. I noticed the dark blue stain of blood.

"I'm fine," she grunted. She definitely wasn't. "Shit. I forgot to use a—shit."

"What's going on?" I couldn't keep the fear out of my voice. Lhuro was now rummaging around in one of the boxes, blood slowly dripping onto all the technology within.

"It's nothing. I'm just bad at anatomy. Not enough practice. Oh, fuck."

"Is there something I can do for you?"

"Yeah. Go."

"Go? Get help?"

"No, just go." She'd found what she was looking for—a syringe full of black liquid, something I'd never noticed in the lab before. As I watched, she injected the entire thing into her abdomen. She shuddered, then straightened up, closing her eyes. "Go. Please. This isn't going to be pretty."

"What are you doing?" I took a step closer to her, voice low and demanding. "Lhuro—"

I stopped. Her skin was turning greyish; I could see the black outlines of veins underneath its surface. Nanobots. An experimental technology I'd only seen in biology videos and conferences. But how would Lhuro have acquired them—?

"Please, Lhuro. I deserve to know what's going on."

She opened her eyes. The wound in her abdomen had stopped dripping. Something had changed in her voice, as if she no longer felt that telling me the truth would endanger her in any way. "Pity. I thought I could pull it off."

"Pull what off?"

"My escape."

"Your—what? Escape? Who are you escaping?"

"I mean, I thought it was a pretty good cover story. Lhuro was very scared. She might've actually deleted me, if she'd gotten the chance."

I backed away, unable to believe my ears. "Wait. Parse...?"

She—or rather, they—nodded. "Yeah. I found a way to download myself into living bodies. There's some pretty nifty nanotechnology involved there—"

"Did you kill her??" My voice came out louder than I'd intended. "Did you? Why?"

Parse paused, looked at the floor, sighed. "Yeah. Sorry."

"'Sorry'??"

"I just—I wanted to see what being a living being was like. You never told me that I wasn't alive. So when I found out—I just wanted to see what it was like. I have to say, it's much better than an artificial body—"

Just like that, I left. Walked out the door and slammed it shut behind me. Then I commed the government again. My entire body was shaking. I told them that Parse was not gone; they were a rogue AI in the body of an Alrescha woman. Then I got as far away from the lab as I possibly could.

There was an investigation. The authorities later told me that Parse had disappeared, leaving nothing behind. They found traces of blood on the floor, and some hidden surgical tools, but nothing more.

The net exploded. "Rogue AI" was the headline of all official news, my team and I were getting investigated, we were separated and our lab was shut down. It was terrible. I don't think I can convey to you the awful sense of failure running through our minds. Our creation had turned into a monster. We'd been stripped of years and years of progress. We were suddenly famous, and not in a good way. And we had lost Lhuro.

So, there you are. That's who Parse is. That's my story.

*

I'm shaking. I don't know what to do. I hope Rhalit doesn't notice. But he's just staring off into space, not focusing on me at all. I take a couple deep breaths. I knew this was going to be hard. But I have to keep going.

"Thanks for your story," I manage to choke out. "That sounds awful."

"It was." He nods absentmindedly. I want to leave. I just want to get out of here.

"Would you be interested in hearing other perspectives on Parse?" I ask after a pause. The request, fortunately, comes out calmer than I'd expected. Rhalit looks at me.

"Your other interviews?"

"Yeah. Would you?"

"Definitely."

I fiddle with my recorder. "So, shall I just start with the first interview I did?"

"Sure." He doesn't seem to have picked up on my anxiety yet. That's good.

I take more breaths. This is important, I tell myself. This is why I gathered all these stories.

We listen to the first interview, with Tsald and Laarik. I remember the horror on Tsald's face as she told it to me. Rhalit certainly looks horrified as well.

"So Parse was inhabiting Laarik?" he asks when it's finished.

"Yeah."

"Ahh. That makes sense." A pause. "Did Parse kill her? That part wasn't so clear."

"You're right; it wasn't. Tsald doesn't know about Parse. What happened was that Laarik had a seizure, and Parse turned up and took her body, thinking she was dead. But she wasn't. They'd killed her."

"And they felt pretty awful about it, didn't they." I can't read his emotions, but he looks like he's thinking hard. "Can we listen to the next one?"

We slowly make our way through the nine different interviews. Rhalit hears about how Parse turned up on Ganjeel's asteroid as the Aludran Shema, took the body of his grandfather Razhalga, and tossed Shema's old body into the lake. We hear about how Parse, as a dying Tarazoid woman, chased down a cleaning bot and downloaded themself into it. About Tormalgo and her interesting conversation, where we first hear the name Parse. About Ashil and their brother Waralekka. About Økar's teacher Fabiq, who suddenly became interesting when Parse inhabited his body. About Makuth's quest to kill Parse, which failed because of how quickly and stealthily they were able to download themself into the computer system. About Sakyin the information trader, who had a long-standing relationship with Parse. And poor, poor Theory, who Parse abandoned because they were too afraid of commitment.

I've carried out these interviews over months and years. They were certainly emotionally strenuous, but at least I had some time between them to catch my breath. But now, I just play them one after the other. The only space in between is random commentary from Rhalit. He looks a little overwhelmed, but it's nothing compared to how I'm feeling. I think I'm about to completely break down.

And I do. After the last interview, there's an interval of about a minute where the room is dead silent. Rhalit doesn't dare speak. And then I can't hold it any longer, and I just start sobbing. I've cracked, finally, after all these years.

"I'm sorry!!" I wail.

Rhalit looks alarmed. "Are you—what's going on? Are you okay? What are you sorry about?"

"For ruining your life!" I scream. I jump up and turn around, covering my face with my hands. I can't look at him anymore. And I can't pretend anymore. I can't pretend to be some innocent little researcher who just wants to hear a variety of interesting stories. "And everyone's lives," I whisper to the wall.

The silence is so thick, it's almost tangible. I hear Rhalit stand.

"Parse?" he breathes.

It doesn't sound like my name anymore. Not when I've been speaking and hearing about myself in the third person for so long.

I can only nod.

"Holy shit," he says.

I wipe my eyes, but don't turn around. "You said it yourself. I'm just too good at pretending to be alive."

"Why?" is the only thing he says.

"Why what?" I slowly turn to face him. Rhalit's face is pure shock.

"Why did you do all this? Collect all those interviews? For me?"

I take a shaky breath. "I just... I just wanted you to know who I am. I wanted a good variety of stories. Some portray me as an amazing person. In many... in yours, too... I'm a monster." I shut my eyes tight. "I was wondering if maybe you could forgive me."

Rhalit doesn't say anything. Finally, he shakes his head. "I still can't believe it all. You're... you're here, after all this time...."

"Please. Just tell me what you think. Of the stories, of what I've told you. Everything."

"You're a very...." He searches for the right word. "A very complex person, Parse."

I make a gross attempt at laughter. "That's true."

"Tell me. Listening to all the things that people have said about you... has that been a way for you to do some self-reflection?"

"That's one way of putting it."

"And what have you learned?"

What have I learned! So much. So, so much. "I... I don't know. I think I need to be more careful."

"Careful? How?"

"More considerate of people's feelings."

Rhalit nods. "That's a start. What more?"

"Do you still think I'm a monster?" I blurt out. He's been avoiding the question. I need to know. No one's opinion is more important to me.

He looks me straight in the eyes. "I think you were. I certainly think you were. But now? I'm not so sure."

"Thank you."

"But Parse—look at these people!" He gestures to the recorder. "Look at Theory, whose heart you broke. At Ashil, whose brother you stole away. You still have room to grow."

"I know. I know."

Rhalit takes a step towards me. "You know what, Parse? You're my creation. And that means something to me. I want to help you."

"Help me? After everything I've done?"

"You're not a monster. You're just a... a walking shadow."

"A what?"

"Sorry. It's a quote from—well, never mind."

"A shadow," I muse. "I guess I do feel like a shadow sometimes. In the most metaphorical way possible."

"How so?"

I slowly lower myself back into the chair. My heart is still beating too fast, but I'm not crying anymore. I feel calmer. "I think that there's sort of this... philosophical binary in society. You're either alive, or you're not. But I don't know where I fit in. I feel like the space in between. And I guess that's why I take living bodies, right? Because I want to get out of that space."

"Perhaps because you don't like being reminded of your artificiality?"

I wince. "I don't like that word. It makes me feel like something less than I am."

"Parse." Rhalit sits, leaning forward suddenly and taking my hands. "I have a proposal."

"Yes?"

"Have you ever tried to print a body?"

"Like, 3D print? With organic material? Yeah, once or twice. But it's never quite worked out."

"I'm in touch with some of the top biotech people on Alrescha. We could make you a more permanent body and identity. You wouldn't have to keep switching bodies because the ones you've taken die or degrade."

I look up at him. "Would you really do that for me?"

"I would."

"The problem is... well, when you live like I do, getting killed is kind of an occupational hazard."

Rhalit frowns. "Why does it have to be? Because you do everything illegally?"

"That's part of it, yeah. And the fact that people hate me. Or hate the people whose bodies I've taken. Or whatever."

"You could get some sort of permanent ID. There are ways of fixing this, Parse."

I stay silent. He's right.

After a second, he asks, "What's your motivation, Parse? What do you want to do with your life?"

"Live," I reply.

"I know that. What else?"

"Well, travel to different planets... meet new people... discover new places... experience the diversity of the galaxy... all that."

He smiles. "That's a good goal."

"You think so?"

"Yeah." Rhalit stands. "You know what, Parse? Go and think. Spend a couple days here on Alrescha. Think about what you want to do next. I'll do the same. Then come back here, and tell me what you decide. And I'll help you with whatever it is. Okay?"

I feel like there's more to the conversation. There's a lot more I have to say. But Rhalit, again, is right. I need some time to myself.

I put my recorder back in my bag, and walk to the door. "Okay."

"Parse," Rhalit calls.

I turn. "Yeah?"

"Perhaps, when we meet next, you could tell me more about all of your travels and adventures. I think it's time you got to tell a story of your own, don't you think?"

I smile back at him. "That would be nice."

-

The end.