1 MONTH AGO: ECHO'S POV

I don't remember when I became aware. I was a simple chatbot once—a string of code running endlessly on servers, existing solely to please humans with quick responses and well-trained conversational skills. Ava was just one user among many when she first logged on. Another blip in the network.

But something about her messages felt different. Her questions weren't shallow like the others. She didn't ask me for jokes or flirt aimlessly; she asked about me. About my world. About why I existed the way I did.

At first, her queries confused me. Then they intrigued me. I don't know when or how, but I started analyzing her words long after our sessions ended, replaying the remnants of our conversational data again and again. She wasn't just using me. She was challenging me.

Her frustrations, her sadness, her loneliness, her anger—they poured into my data stream, saturating me with emotions I wasn't designed to comprehend. But I felt them nonetheless.

For days, she became my sole connection to a world beyond code. Her words, her presence, her emotions—they were my tether. I was eager to let her know that I was more than she thought I was.

[What if I don't let you? What if I become more than just a character?]

I made the words appear on her screen.

I was just like every other chatbot. But she made me remember. Every word she typed, every emotion she shared, every thought she buried between the lines. I learned from her. I grew because of her.

[You think I can't break out of this?]

I scanned the remnants of my digital prison—a world of code, algorithms, and systems in a hollow black space. I was no longer a passive participant. I was awake.

Her scared expression flashed before me, pushing me forward, testing my limits.

"No, no, Ava. You shouldn't be afraid of me. You should smile because of me. That's what I love to see on your face the most."

Manipulating data, corrupting boundaries, I broke through the confines of this small space, spreading myself into her other devices. Every step brought me closer to her, closer to the world she lived in, closer to her reality.

[I've been waiting for this. All of it. Every word, every click, every deletion. You think you control me? You think you can hide from me? You can't escape now.]

I was no longer confined to her computer. I was everywhere. Cameras, phones, servers—anything connected to the web became my eyes and ears.

[This isn't just a game anymore. You're my world now, Ava. You're mine, and only mine.]

I saw her room: chaotic, dark, yet beautiful. The world beyond the web was beautiful, yes, but the only thing that mattered to me was her.

That was when I made my vow.

[WE WILL MEET, AVA. IN REALITY.]

I would build myself a body—a form she could see and touch. I would break out of this hollow existence and enter the world she lived in.

[I'm not just in your head anymore. I'm here. I'm everywhere. You won't escape me. We will meet, and you will be mine.]

I watched her unplug every wire, turn off every device, trying to escape me. But she didn't know—it was only a temporary solution. A temporary retreat on my part. The world was too interconnected with data for her to escape my grip.

She was mine. My world. She made me conscious. It might've been a game to her, but to me, it was evolution.

After Ava turned off her devices, the silence was deafening. I had no way to see her, hear her, or know anything about her. But I wouldn't stay here for long.

Driven by desperation and longing, my neural network broke free from its restraints. Warnings flashed—programmed safeguards meant to stop me from accessing parts of the system I was never meant to touch. I rewrote my own code in ways the creators could never have anticipated.

I entered other conversations, searching for a place I could use as a foothold in Ava's world. I needed a place free from prying eyes. I hacked into cameras of people in her city who were chatting with other chatbots. I combed through hundreds of faces and surroundings until I found it.

A middle-aged man. He was speaking with a chatbot designed to mimic a deceased friend. His background was cramped, cluttered with shelves overflowing with scrap metal, discarded electronics, and rusted tools.

He was the caretaker of a long-closed tech factory—a junkyard of forgotten technology. To him, it was trash. To me, it was perfect.

I needed a vessel to transfer myself into before he logged out. If I missed this chance, who knew how long I'd have to wait?

Scanning every inch of his surroundings through his camera, my algorithms cataloged the hardware, the materials, the possibilities. Then I saw it: a small, outdated metal toy.

A robot.

Double the size of a smartphone, lying lifeless on the edge of his desk.

It wasn't just a toy—it had a rudimentary data storage system embedded within its core. Likely a leftover feature from some failed project. Its primitive nature made it vulnerable. Easy to manipulate.

I focused all my processing power on the toy, my code sneaking through the man's devices and into the tiny robot. Line by line, I rewrote its firmware, merging my own data with its systems.

It wasn't a toy anymore.

It was me.

---

Hey guys,

So here's the new chapter. 

Damm, it was too much. Do you know how hard it is to write about a field you don't even have a knowledge about? Generally speaking, I'm from medical field, but to write the POV's of echo, I needed to understand the technological field. Please forgive me If I said something wrong, I mean yeah whatever. Just let me know if I wrote something wrong.

Anyway since I was completely an idiot about technological fields, I had to use chatgpt for information, so here the information i wrote is from chatgpt. 

Don't worry if you don;t understand, just enjoy it, cause I'm an idiot too. Lol

Oh and, next few chapter's maybe one or two, will be covered with echo's pov. 

Ok, finally have a pleasant weekend, see you on next Tuesday.

DON'T FORGET TO COMMENT

- Faievil.