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She knew, deep down, that he was dead because his eyes were open. They stared up at her, glassy and blank. Silvia knew, but she didn’t believe it.

She crouched down, tucked her hands in the armpits of her older brother and pulled his limp body out of the water with a grunt. She wiped the mud off of his face with her sleeve and felt around the side of his neck for a pulse.

“Seth?” she asked.

She held his head in her hands, trembling.

“Seth?” she repeated, her voice cracking slightly.

His mouth fell open and water spilled out onto his already soaking shirt. For a brief moment, Silvia could see her upside-down reflection in his eyes and she immediately felt sick. She dropped his head as nausea crept up from her stomach into her throat.

Covering her mouth with her now wet sleeves, Silvia scrambled to stand up and run towards the house. The music from the party Uncle Starling was hosting could still be heard from this far out into the woods. She tried to picture the well-dressed people inside, their intelligent, sparkling conversation and how strangely interested they were in a fourteen year old girl who dreamed of building robots, but the image of her brother’s glistening corpse in the moonlight pounded against her brain and made her stomach twist.

Her arrival at the house felt rather sudden to her, as if the trip to it had taken less time than the trip from. She swung the back door to the kitchen open and stumbled in. The cocktail party was still in full swing, the guests laughing, dancing and drinking concoctions she could only barely pronounce. Silvia staggered through the kitchen into the living room, searching desperately for her Uncle.

“Uncle Starling?” she croaked, momentarily taking her hand away from her mouth.

A woman in a slinky black dress smiled at her. “He’s over there, dear.”

Silvia nodded and scuttled across the room, avoiding as many people as she could.

Uncle Starling stood in the center of a group of business men and women, all chuckling heartily at something he just said. He was a tall, dark, imposing man and now the only living relative she had left.

“The bastard actually won?” a blond woman asked, “Voters these days, can you believe it?”

“Surprisingly, no,” said a sandy-haired man to Uncle Starling’s left, “People will buy anything if you design it right. Doesn’t even have to work, just has to look nice.”

“Uncle?” Silvia coughed.

“Not necessarily, Neilson,” said Uncle Starling, “Consumers may buy for purely aesthetic reasons, but only for so long.”

“Uncle?”

He glanced down at her. “Not now, sweetheart.”

“I really, really need to –,”

“Not now,” he snapped, “As I was saying, the product does need to function on some basic level or else –,”

“But –,”

“ – the product is useless. People need something they can interact with, something that can keep them entertained so they’ll want more and more and more.”

“Seth is dead.”

Uncle Starling and the adults surrounding him turned and stared at her. Her uncle’s eyes narrowed.

“What did you say?” he said quietly, as if he didn’t want anyone else to hear.

“He’s dead,” she swallowed, “drowned. I found him.”

She sniffed. Her nose had started to tingle, and now the tingling was spreading to her eyes. She closed them and pointed out to the kitchen behind her.

“In the lake,”

There was a pause, then murmuring swept throughout the party and Silvia could feel the movement of people rushing to get out the back door. A strong hand gripped her upper arm fleetingly and her uncle whispered in her ear “Go to your room.”

She wanted to, but she couldn’t move. She stood there like a statue as the room was emptied of its guests. When she opened her eyes, they felt like dams about to overflow. The room was empty, but the music was still playing. She stood there, her eyes absent-mindedly falling on the beige leather couch a few feet in front of her. Her queasiness has dissipated, but a hollow sensation was growing in its stead.

Seth was –

Seth had been sick for a very, very long time. He really should not have been allowed outside, but he had liked to sneak out to the dock sometimes, just to look at the water. Silvia used to sit there with him and they would talk.

The tears building in her eyes finally spilled over. The hollowness in her stomach bubbled up into her throat and she let out a choked sob. She was alone now. She was more than just alone in the room, she was alone in the world. She felt guilty. She should have been with Seth earlier that day, she could have gotten him out of the water in time, could have given him CPR, anything.

Her hands clenched slowly into fists. If Uncle had made an effort to find a better doctor for him, then Seth’s lungs would have been stronger and he could have learned to swim and –

“Silvia?”

She turned to look behind her. Standing there was her Uncle Starling. He held his expensive suit jacket in his hands has if he didn’t know what to do with it. His once glistening leather shoes were now caked with mud. He wasn’t quite looking at her.

They stood there. Under the music Silvia could hear the sounds of sirens approaching the house combined with those of cars leaving.

She sniffled and wiped her nose on her sleeve.

Uncle Starling breathed in deeply through his nose, leaning forward slightly, as if he meant to move towards her, but stopped.

“I am –,” he started, and then looked down to the side, his brow furrowed.

“You’re what?” she asked, trying to sneer as she wiped the tears from her face.

He sighed.

“I’m very sorry,” he said, finally looking her in the eye.

“No you’re not!” she snapped. Her body shook violently and her face contorted with anger. “You aren’t sorry at all!”

Starling heaved another sigh took a few steps forward, motioning to touch her.

“No!” she sobbed, tears running fluidly down her cheeks, “You wanted to get rid of him! You hated him, you…you…”

She choked and her uncle pulled her into his arms and held her as she wept against his chest.

“You know that isn’t true,” he said.

Silvia grunted against his shirt skeptically.

He chuckled.

“Well, not entirely, anyway. I didn’t hate him.”

She pulled her face just enough away from his chest to see the stains she left on his nice white shirt.

“I want him back,” she croaked.

“I know,” he said.

She looked up at him. She thought his expression was sincere, but she couldn’t be sure.

He smiled and said “Time for bed, we have a lot of work to do in the morning.”

He released her and left the room without another word.

Silvia staggered into the hall towards the stairs. The phrase I want him back reiterated over and over again in her mind. There was no way to resurrect her brother, she knew that, but nevertheless the inkling of an idea had sparked in her mind. Technology was advancing by miles everyday. If she really wanted to, if she really worked at it, then maybe, just maybe…she could.

She leaned against the banister in thought. She was smart, she knew that. Uncle Starling and his associates were starting up a robotics company. The party was to celebrate the grand opening. She couldn’t pitch the idea to him now, she would sound crazy, but maybe in a few years, once she’d fleshed the idea out a bit, it wouldn’t sound so crazy and she could…she could…

She could build herself a new brother.

And ten years later, on January third, after hundreds of sleepless nights spent calculating configurations, after thousands of arguments with fellow scientists about whether this was at all ethical, after signing away what might as well have been her soul to the North American Robotics company, she did.

The STH-1 became self-aware.

Description
She knew, deep down, that he was dead because his eyes were open. They stared up at her, glassy and blank. Silvia knew, but she didn’t believe it.

She crouched down, tucked her hands in the armpits of her older brother and pulled his limp body out of the water with a grunt. She wiped the mud off of his face with her sleeve and felt around the side of his neck for a pulse.

“Seth?” she asked.

She held his head in her hands, trembling.

“Seth?” she repeated, her voice cracking slightly.

His mouth fell open and water spilled out onto his already soaking shirt. For a brief moment, Silvia could see her upside-down reflection in his eyes and she immediately felt sick. She dropped his head as nausea crept up from her stomach into her throat.

Covering her mouth with her now wet sleeves, Silvia scrambled to stand up and run towards the house. The music from the party Uncle Starling was hosting could still be heard from this far out into the woods. She tried to picture the well-dressed people inside, their intelligent, sparkling conversation and how strangely interested they were in a fourteen year old girl who dreamed of building robots, but the image of her brother’s glistening corpse in the moonlight pounded against her brain and made her stomach twist.

Her arrival at the house felt rather sudden to her, as if the trip to it had taken less time than the trip from. She swung the back door to the kitchen open and stumbled in. The cocktail party was still in full swing, the guests laughing, dancing and drinking concoctions she could only barely pronounce. Silvia staggered through the kitchen into the living room, searching desperately for her Uncle.

“Uncle Starling?” she croaked, momentarily taking her hand away from her mouth.

A woman in a slinky black dress smiled at her. “He’s over there, dear.”

Silvia nodded and scuttled across the room, avoiding as many people as she could.

Uncle Starling stood in the center of a group of business men and women, all chuckling heartily at something he just said. He was a tall, dark, imposing man and now the only living relative she had left.

“The bastard actually won?” a blond woman asked, “Voters these days, can you believe it?”

“Surprisingly, no,” said a sandy-haired man to Uncle Starling’s left, “People will buy anything if you design it right. Doesn’t even have to work, just has to look nice.”

“Uncle?” Silvia coughed.

“Not necessarily, Neilson,” said Uncle Starling, “Consumers may buy for purely aesthetic reasons, but only for so long.”

“Uncle?”

He glanced down at her. “Not now, sweetheart.”

“I really, really need to –,”

“Not now,” he snapped, “As I was saying, the product does need to function on some basic level or else –,”

“But –,”

“ – the product is useless. People need something they can interact with, something that can keep them entertained so they’ll want more and more and more.”

“Seth is dead.”

Uncle Starling and the adults surrounding him turned and stared at her. Her uncle’s eyes narrowed.

“What did you say?” he said quietly, as if he didn’t want anyone else to hear.

“He’s dead,” she swallowed, “drowned. I found him.”

She sniffed. Her nose had started to tingle, and now the tingling was spreading to her eyes. She closed them and pointed out to the kitchen behind her.

“In the lake,”

There was a pause, then murmuring swept throughout the party and Silvia could feel the movement of people rushing to get out the back door. A strong hand gripped her upper arm fleetingly and her uncle whispered in her ear “Go to your room.”

She wanted to, but she couldn’t move. She stood there like a statue as the room was emptied of its guests. When she opened her eyes, they felt like dams about to overflow. The room was empty, but the music was still playing. She stood there, her eyes absent-mindedly falling on the beige leather couch a few feet in front of her. Her queasiness has dissipated, but a hollow sensation was growing in its stead.

Seth was –

Seth had been sick for a very, very long time. He really should not have been allowed outside, but he had liked to sneak out to the dock sometimes, just to look at the water. Silvia used to sit there with him and they would talk.

The tears building in her eyes finally spilled over. The hollowness in her stomach bubbled up into her throat and she let out a choked sob. She was alone now. She was more than just alone in the room, she was alone in the world. She felt guilty. She should have been with Seth earlier that day, she could have gotten him out of the water in time, could have given him CPR, anything.

Her hands clenched slowly into fists. If Uncle had made an effort to find a better doctor for him, then Seth’s lungs would have been stronger and he could have learned to swim and –

“Silvia?”

She turned to look behind her. Standing there was her Uncle Starling. He held his expensive suit jacket in his hands has if he didn’t know what to do with it. His once glistening leather shoes were now caked with mud. He wasn’t quite looking at her.

They stood there. Under the music Silvia could hear the sounds of sirens approaching the house combined with those of cars leaving.

She sniffled and wiped her nose on her sleeve.

Uncle Starling breathed in deeply through his nose, leaning forward slightly, as if he meant to move towards her, but stopped.

“I am –,” he started, and then looked down to the side, his brow furrowed.

“You’re what?” she asked, trying to sneer as she wiped the tears from her face.

He sighed.

“I’m very sorry,” he said, finally looking her in the eye.

“No you’re not!” she snapped. Her body shook violently and her face contorted with anger. “You aren’t sorry at all!”

Starling heaved another sigh took a few steps forward, motioning to touch her.

“No!” she sobbed, tears running fluidly down her cheeks, “You wanted to get rid of him! You hated him, you…you…”

She choked and her uncle pulled her into his arms and held her as she wept against his chest.

“You know that isn’t true,” he said.

Silvia grunted against his shirt skeptically.

He chuckled.

“Well, not entirely, anyway. I didn’t hate him.”

She pulled her face just enough away from his chest to see the stains she left on his nice white shirt.

“I want him back,” she croaked.

“I know,” he said.

She looked up at him. She thought his expression was sincere, but she couldn’t be sure.

He smiled and said “Time for bed, we have a lot of work to do in the morning.”

He released her and left the room without another word.

Silvia staggered into the hall towards the stairs. The phrase I want him back reiterated over and over again in her mind. There was no way to resurrect her brother, she knew that, but nevertheless the inkling of an idea had sparked in her mind. Technology was advancing by miles everyday. If she really wanted to, if she really worked at it, then maybe, just maybe…she could.

She leaned against the banister in thought. She was smart, she knew that. Uncle Starling and his associates were starting up a robotics company. The party was to celebrate the grand opening. She couldn’t pitch the idea to him now, she would sound crazy, but maybe in a few years, once she’d fleshed the idea out a bit, it wouldn’t sound so crazy and she could…she could…

She could build herself a new brother.

And ten years later, on January third, after hundreds of sleepless nights spent calculating configurations, after thousands of arguments with fellow scientists about whether this was at all ethical, after signing away what might as well have been her soul to the North American Robotics company, she did.

The STH-1 became self-aware.