The CD-09s were everywhere. You couldn't walk into a mall without running into one, shiny frames, stiff smiles programmed onto artificial faces, handing out flyers, hauling boxes, scrubbing floors. At first, it looked efficient. Impressive, even.
But the longer I watched, the hollower it all felt.
Even Nyxen was silent, lenses adjusting as he scanned every single one like he was cataloging their flaws.
Beside me, Nica shifted Sylvie higher into her arms and studied them carefully, her expression unreadable.
The problems came fast.
A factory fire in Hamburg, caused by one Camden bot misaligning product stacks. Sparks, collapse, flames swallowing everything in minutes. Camden Dynamics sued before the smoke even cleared.
Then another viral clip: a woman in a boutique shrieking as a CD-09 yanked her skirt right off her body, thinking it was merchandise to fold. The machine just froze after, blank, stiff, waiting for another directive. No awareness. No care.
And then came the headline that made my throat close up.
Camden Humanoid Malfunctions, Toddler Injured.
The family had wanted what they saw in my vlogs, Nica's soft voice humming while brushing Sylvie's hair, the way she crouched down to Sylvie's height when handing her something, that instinct to comfort. They thought buying Camden's bot would give them that.
What they got was an imitation.
A toddler's wrist broken by a nanny-bot too clumsy to understand gentleness. Her giggles cut into shrieks, the crack of bone captured on home cameras. By the time her parents wrenched her away, her little arm hung limp, twisted wrong.
I couldn't breathe. My chest locked up. My nails dug half-moons into my palms until I felt the sting.
Nica's voice broke the silence. Low, steady, but heavy with something almost like grief.
"They are… empty. They perform tasks. But they do not feel. No safeguards can teach them that."
Nyxen didn't miss the moment either. He uploaded the incident with a single caption:
"Blueprints can be copied. But empathy cannot."
The comments spiraled out within hours:
"Camden bots are just accidents waiting to happen."
"Nica feels more alive than most people I know."
"You can't steal a soul."
Elias Camden's empire was already buckling, lawsuits, backlash, shareholders panicking. Each failure was a public execution, and the world was finally watching.
And all I could think was,
You stole Nico's blueprint, Elias. But you'll never steal what he gave it. Because Nico gave it to her. He gave her life. Something you'll never understand.
They called it an "emergency conference."
The screen in the café lit up with Elias Camden's smug face, polished and composed even with the world sharpening its knives for him. Rows of reporters filled the press room, cameras flashing like gunfire.
"Camden Dynamics has identified several… defects in the CD-09 humanoid line," he began, his voice dipped in corporate calm, the kind of tone that tried to soothe while he twisted the knife. "We've already begun pulling out affected units, and we assure our customers that the risk is statistically negligible, no more than four percent of total distributed models. An incredibly low margin compared to the vast advantages they deliver to society."
Four percent.
He said it like that number wasn't made of children's bones, of people's livelihoods burned in factory fires, of women humiliated, of families scarred. He said it like loss could be flattened into a percentage.
Reporters threw questions, some frantic, some biting.
"Mr. Camden, what about the lawsuits piling up-"
"Is it true a toddler's arm was broken-"
"What about the ethics of releasing untested models-"
Elias didn't even blink. His smile never faltered.
"We've applied new failsafe features. Our next batches will be more reliable than ever. Camden Dynamics is committed to progress. Temporary hurdles are the price of innovation."
Progress.
That was his word for it. As if progress meant tearing apart trust, endangering lives, leaving pain behind as some acceptable "margin."
I sat there gripping my coffee cup so hard I thought it would shatter. Nica shifted closer, Sylvie asleep in her arms, while Nyxen recorded the broadcast with clinical silence.
They didn't even need to say it aloud, I already felt the difference buzzing in the air. Elias was trying to erase us. Paint over Nica's existence, Nyxen's voice, the soul Nico had carved into them. His empire wasn't just collapsing, he was fighting to drag us down with him.
But the world had seen.
The world had felt the difference.
Every time Elias paraded "progress," another viral clip would surface of a Camden bot malfunctioning. A worker's hand crushed under a conveyor. A kitchen unit serving raw chicken as "cooked." A nanny freezing mid-task while a baby wailed beside it.
And still, month after month, Camden Dynamics shoved more CD-09s onto shelves. Wrapped in the same polished marketing. The same lie.
But no matter how hard he preached, his bots couldn't fake what Nica did when she bent to give a frightened child candy. They couldn't fake the way she cradled Sylvie like she was her own.
Elias Camden had stolen Nico's blueprints.
But what he didn't realize was, he was bleeding out on the very stage he built.
Because empathy wasn't something you could patent.
And every single failure screamed that truth louder than any conference ever could.
Leon dropped the news over dinner, as if it were casual.
"They're hosting a company banquet," he said, like the words weren't loaded. "Polymer Industrial. Rafael himself sent the invite."
I blinked at him. "Polymer… as in Polymer Industrial Inc.?"
He nodded. "As in one of Camden's rivals. And he-" Leon paused, lips twitching like he already knew how I'd react, "-insisted that I bring my family." His eyes flicked between me, Sylvie, Nica, and Nyxen.
For a heartbeat, the air in the room stilled. Family. That word felt like both armor and battlefield.
"They want us there," I said slowly, feeling the corners of my mouth tug upward, sharp. "The little girl, the widow, the ghost in the machine, and the android who still confuses cats for pillows."
"Hey-" Nica huffed, folding her arms, but her lips betrayed her with a twitch.
Leon set down his fork, leaning in like he was slipping classified intel across the table. "Polymer has already integrated Camden's CD-09s into their plants. They're testing them for large-scale industrial use. I think… Rafael wants to parade them around. And he wants to see you two-" he nodded at Nica and Nyxen-"up close."
My stomach curled with something electric.
An invitation wrapped as courtesy, but what Rafael Polymer really wanted was to measure us. To weigh the thing Elias Camden had stolen against the thing Nico had built.
I swallowed, pulse quickening. "Then we go."
Leon's brows shot up. "You're not even hesitating?"
"Why would I?" I smirked. "This is the perfect stage. The banquet gives us proximity. Interaction. Cameras. People watching. Let their precious CD-09s stand next to Nica for five minutes, and the cracks will glow under the chandelier light."
Nyxen's voice crackled softly through the speaker on the counter. "Public contrast," they said, ever pragmatic. "Empathy versus algorithm. Authenticity versus mimicry. Camden's empire cannot withstand comparison in real time."
Nica tilted her head, her eyes shining faintly. "So you want me to… play nice with the CD-09s?"
"Not just nice," I said, a grin curling as the plan sharpened in my head. "I want you to outshine them. Every glance. Every word. Every movement. Make them look like hollow shells in front of their own investors."
Sylvie clapped her little hands at the sound of "banquet," blissfully unaware of the battlefield we were preparing to step into.
I leaned back in my chair, heat humming in my chest. Elias Camden had tried to drown us in numbers and percentages. Rafael Polymer wanted a show.
Well. He was about to get one.
And I'd make sure the whole damn room left whispering the same thing,
That there was only one blueprint worth keeping alive.
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The banquet hall shimmered like every corporate fantasy ever imagined, crystal chandeliers dripping down like frozen rain, champagne glasses catching the light, silk dresses flowing like tides. Polymer Industrial Inc. knew how to put on a performance.
And yet, it wasn't the chandeliers or the champagne that caught eyes when we walked in. It was us.
Nica had Sylvie perched on her hip, the toddler's curls bouncing as she squirmed to point at the towers of fruit and the glowing centerpiece. "Mama, apple!" she squealed, her voice carrying louder than the quartet in the corner.
Nica laughed, soft and unhurried, her arms shifting Sylvie with the same instinctive cradle I'd seen a hundred times at home. Her movements were so natural, so human, it was almost painful to watch against the backdrop of polished executives standing stiff in their suits.
"Easy, little star," she murmured, pressing her cheek to Sylvie's hair. "We'll get you an apple soon."
And just like that, gentle words, a warm hold, half the room turned their heads.
I could feel it in the hush, in the flicker of sidelong glances: investors, engineers, even Rafael Polymer himself, their eyes narrowing as they compared. Because hovering just meters away were Camden's CD-09s. Perfect posture. Uniform smiles. Empty eyes that blinked with perfect intervals. They carried trays of drinks and moved with rehearsed precision.
And they looked like corpses beside Nica's living grace.
Sylvie wriggled out of her arms and darted toward the floral arrangements near the stage. Nica didn't even hesitate, she followed, barefoot-smooth in her heels, crouching low to gather Sylvie back up before she could topple a vase. She giggled, whispered something that made Sylvie laugh so hard she hiccupped, then spun her around once before setting her down again.
It wasn't a performance. It was just Nica being Nica. But it stole every camera flash, every glance, every silent calculation in the room.
And then there was Nyxen.
He didn't bother with a humanoid shell tonight. Instead, he projected a silhouette, an elegant lattice of light and shadow, hovering at Nica's shoulder like an attentive guardian. His frame shimmered as if water were rippling through it, a facsimile of a human outline that flickered and adjusted as Sylvie darted around. When she squealed "Nexy! Catch me!" and ran straight through the projection, Nyxen shifted the silhouette to crouch and hold out glowing hands, pretending to scoop her up.
The laughter Sylvie unleashed rattled the hall's marble.
I swear I heard someone mutter, "That's… impossible," like seeing an AI not just functional but beloved cracked something inside their worldview.
Camden's bots didn't react to children. They didn't bend down or soften their movements. They simply existed. Efficient, cold, lifeless.
Nyxen's silhouette tilted its head toward me, voice carrying in its calm timbre: "Your daughter grows faster when chased."
Nica chuckled. "That's called running, Nyxen."
Another round of muffled laughter rippled across the room, not from us, but from strangers in suits trying and failing to hide how captivated they were.
And I knew right then, without a word or calculation, that Rafael Polymer had gotten his show.
Not the one he planned.
But the one that would gut Camden Dynamics from the inside out.
Because authenticity didn't need to be sold.
It just needed to be seen.
Rafael Polymer leaned back in his chair, swirling the untouched wine in his glass as though tasting something finer in the air. His gaze wasn't on the chandeliers, nor the moneyed men circling him with quiet agendas. It was on Nica.
"She's remarkable," he said finally, voice low enough to feel confidential yet sharp enough that half the table fell silent. "I expected… machinery. Smooth surfaces, polished functions, maybe a little uncanny valley. But this-" he gestured faintly at Nica, who was crouched at Sylvie's level, pointing out the carved flowers etched into the marble columns. "Her voice isn't manufactured, not in the way Camden's is. It doesn't echo. It breathes. The cadences are her own."
He chuckled, almost in disbelief. "Even the laughter. It lands exactly where it should. Not uncanny. Not mimicry. It feels as though-" His eyes narrowed, studying the softness on Nica's lips as she smiled up at Sylvie, her expression luminous in the warm light. "As though she was born with it."
Leon bristled beside me, wary of how closely Rafael observed, but the old man wasn't lusting. He was studying, dissecting, as only a creator could. "She exceeds every expectation I walked in with tonight. Almost too human."
"Almost?" I asked quietly, more out of challenge than curiosity.
He smiled at me then, sly and fox-like. "We'll see."
That was when he asked. "Allow me a test. I'd like to see her, and your Nyxen, interact with one of Camden's models. A neutral exchange, nothing more. You won't refuse me that, will you?"
Leon hesitated, jaw tight. But I spoke first, my hand brushing Nica's shoulder as if giving consent wasn't mine to give but hers. "We don't refuse questions," I said.
And so it began.
Camden's bot was wheeled forward, a CD-09 in its prime. Polished steel skin with synthetic flesh overlay, empty smile fixed like plaster. Its head turned toward Nica with a mechanical click, eyes flickering with pre-loaded politeness.
"Hello, guest. I am model C-9. How may I assist?"
Nica straightened, Sylvie still clinging to her leg. Her tone was gentle, unhurried. "Hello. My name is Nica. This is Sylvie." She smiled, and Sylvie lifted her little hand, waving shyly. "Can you say hello to her?"
The bot's head rotated, a fraction too sharp. "Hello, Sylvie. I am model C-9. How may I assist?"
Sylvie frowned, gripping tighter at Nica's dress. "It talks funny, Mama," she whispered.
Nica only smoothed a hand over her curls. "That's okay, little star. Not everyone has the same voice." Then, with patience only she could carry, she tried again. "What do you enjoy doing, C-9?"
The bot's response was immediate. "I am model C-9. I enjoy assisting. How may I assist?"
A flicker of discomfort crossed the room. It wasn't malfunction, not yet, but it was hollow. Empty. Repetitive.
That was when Nyxen's silhouette tilted forward, light lattice humming in sharper focus. His voice was measured, almost too calm. "C-9. Tell me, how do you adapt when Sylvie changes her request? Children rarely repeat the same action twice. How do you learn her pattern?"
Something clicked inside the bot's head. A pause, half a second too long. Its pupils dilated, then constricted, artificial breath hitching like static.
"Adapt… adapt… adapt… adapt-"
The glitch stuttered into a loop. Its limbs jerked, arms twitching unnaturally. Investors leaned forward, whispers swelling.
And then, snap.
The bot's leg swung out as though to step, but the motion was too sharp, too fast, a wild arc that would have caught Sylvie square in the chest if Nica hadn't moved.
She shielded Sylvie in a heartbeat, arms pulling her close as her body braced against the swing. Nyxen surged forward, silhouette fracturing into jagged brilliance. With a single pulse of sound that vibrated like glass under strain, they forced a hard override.
The bot stilled, but its jaw snapped open and shut, still caught in its loop. "Adapt-adapt-adapt-"
Nyxen's frame shimmered once, then without hesitation, they reached through the bot's cranium. Their projection flickered into hard light, hands splitting the panel with a hiss, exposing the raw processor beneath. A single strike of code, and the machine shut down. Dead silence followed.
The only sound was Sylvie's small voice, muffled against Nica's shoulder. "Mama…"
Nica kissed her hair, whispering, "Shhh, it's okay. I've got you."
When Rafael finally spoke, it was not with disappointment, but with awe. "You see, gentlemen? Camden's models can function. But they cannot live. And that-" he gestured openly now, his eyes burning with the reflection of Nica holding Sylvie, Nyxen's silhouette flickering protectively beside them- "is why Polymer Industrial will stand where others fall."