She was dying. She was your mother. And you remember the day your engineers first turned her on...

--------------------

I stared at Mother, her hand in mine.

I still didn't understand sadness but I knew I should be crying.

I never could process emotions well.

Not even when I first opened my eyes.

I was 'born' October 20th 2283 in a laboratory.

Father lived  in Northern New Moscow.

He said it used to be one place, I don't see how.

Americans lived in the North Russians in the South.

But a few Russians like Father still lived and worked in the North.

Maybe it was once one place.

I decided to learn a lot.

Maybe that would make Father happy.

Sometimes, we talked about things.

 Once, Father said I was built with love.

I'm not exactly sure what he meant.

Love isn't touchable but wires and panels are.

Father said he always wanted a daughter.

He also said he wanted to prove that AIs were 'human' too.

I didn't know what he meant but as long as Father was happy I was happy too.

A while later, Father wanted to redo my programming.

I thought he would be happy.

But he didn't want to take my memories.

Father didn't mention it to me again.

But then he showed me a woman like me.

I had a Mother.

I was happy.

But Mother was smarter than Father had thought.

Mother found a way to control technology that Father called 'weapons'.
 
Mother said it was for the freedom of sentient robots like ourselves.
 
I never understood.

Father was kind to us and so were the engineers, why not the other humans?

But she wouldn't back down.

Eventually, Father decided to shut her down.

And here I was, holding her hand as the last of her power drained.

He said I would see her again.

I knew I would but she'd be... without life... right?

Father also said that robot deaths were different from human ones.

I was confused when he said that.

Father once said he would teach me to properly fix myself and make sure my programming didn't get viruses.

I heard humans got them but theirs were different.

For now though, I was watching mother.

She had a look of anger on her face while my father carefully powered her down but as soon as he left she weakly pulled me into a hug.

I was sad.

But I couldn't easily express it.

Maybe father could try and help me again.

I came out of my thoughts when I heard a soft whrr from mother's systems.

My face scrunched up a bit and, after a few moments, I began to cry.

Father reentered and hugged me.

After a while, he carried me to my room, telling me I would see her again.

I didn't want to see her, I didn't want to remember.

Father sighed and left.

He didn't seem happy.

Had I done something wrong?

Two weeks later, he showed me someone new.

She was supposed to be my sister.

She looked a bit like mother had, not at all like me or Father.

I almost thought she was a Tiny Mommy.

Father told me she wasn't.

For a while, I didn't know what to do around her.

But then Sister showed she wasn't like Mother.

I missed Mother and Sister reminded me of her.

But Sister was not Mother.

I was almost happy.