Emotion

People say that a song is made up of the emotions of the songwriter, it’s something they pour their heart and soul into. Listening to those pleasing melodies and the most profound lyrics, it gives people a sense of relatability, solace even. After all, songwriter or listener, they’re all human. But that’s the problem. Being human, one day when those world renowned songwriters inevitably stop producing new music, what’s going to happen? Would their music just fade into obscurity, along with all their feelings that had been put into them? Would there be new songwriters that write songs of the same style? There’s really no guarantee. And that worried some humans. Those feelings meant something to people, not being able to feel that comfort ever again wasn’t something some of them could easily accept.

So they made a solution.

Mera.

An Artificial intelligence made to feel the depths of human emotion. Mera had relationships, struggles, a life of a person without the limits of the human body. Most importantly, she turned her various life experiences into heartfelt lyrics accompanied by a lovely tune and could keep writing more and more for decades, centuries, as long as technology lived. No longer was there a fear of the artist’s career ending, Mera could last forever.

*

At one point in Mera’s development to further give her the experience of an average human, they invited a young boy over for her to interact with. Both were reluctant, they knew they had better things to do and it definitely wasn’t an ideal situation to be stuck in. But she needed some interesting experiences to be able to write her songs, well if there was anything interesting to begin with. Their conversations were just filled with one liners and awkward pauses. What does one do when they are left sitting on the floor, confined in a room with so much emptiness? Even an AI couldn’t make any fun out of it. Eventually he suggested bringing her out to a garden he frequently visited. A garden with a big oak tree which he offered to teach her how to climb. “It’s a good hangout spot.” He claimed. She tried to pull her mechanical body up with all the strength she had. For a moment, it seemed like she was going to make it, until she heard the crack of the branch and the rip of the sleeve of her brand new white jacket, now dirty and stained.

The two went back to her home, rummaged through the storage boxes and found a sewing kit. His fingers firmly held on to the delicate needle. She watched as he poked the needle into her sleeve with great precision, then pulled out the thread, which was carefully colour-matched with her jacket, and afterwards repeated the stitches until the hole closed.

“Where did you learn to sew?” She asked.

“Been watching my mother do it.” he replied. “No one taught you anything other than singing?”

“No. I was made to write and sing songs, things like sewing or climbing trees, they’re all trivial to me if they don’t contribute to my art.”

“I see.”

He tied up the knot, securing the stitches in place. “Shame you would never be able to reach the top, the view of the sky from up there is something you need to see at least once in your lifetime.”

“I’m sure the stage would be the same.” She replied rather monotonely.

And that was the end of their day. They never saw each other again, and neither did they find themselves desiring to. But the idea of being able to see the view of the sky from high up, that stuck with her. Someday she’ll stand on a stage, on top of the world.

*

Mera seemed perfect at what she was created to do. She could pull all-nighters without feeling tired, practice high notes continuously without her voice going dry, she felt the whole spectrum of human emotion.

So when it came time to see the outcome of all those years of development…why?

That night, her left hand carried a bouquet of yellow flowers, with a card on it that bore the word ‘CONGRATULATIONS’ front and center in cursive, and her right, a phone. The screen displayed all the names of those that made it, the top 3, top 5, top 10, top 20…

Where was her name?

Why were there so many people better at doing what she was made to do? She was limitless, so why wasn’t she good enough?

“What are we gonna do with it?” She overheard the humans discuss.

“Stop the project. It failed, didn’t it? We really cannot afford to do anything more.”

Hearing those words felt like a knife to a hypothetical heart she had. Did she have one? Well, it sure felt like it.

She had failed at the only thing she was good at, the only thing she could do. What was she beyond a bunch of numbers, letters and symbols strung together into a code made purely to entertain? What more could she offer?

This life didn’t turn out to be as joyous as they said it would. She looked at her bouquet of yellow flowers, now on the floor. She didn’t want to end up like them, eventually withered and dead, nothing but a distant memory.

“Mera, please understand.” They said, but how could she?

“Give me another chance!” She pleaded as the humans tried to take her away. She wished she could cry, but no tears could possibly come out of those fake eyes. She was supposed to last forever! She was supposed to be on a stage, singing her songs, looking up at the sky, the best view of it she could possibly get, and thinking ‘Wow, after all those years, I’ve made it.’. Is that never going to happen?

“I don’t wanna go!” She cried.

She wasn’t just an idea, a creation by humans, she was real. Or, at least to her everything she went through, everything she felt, it was all real. It then became clear, the worst thing you could do to a machine, was torture it with human emotion.