The soft click of Nyxen's image-taker echoed again.
Sylvie blinked, then giggled, squirming in my arms. She had carrot smeared across her cheek, her fingers curled tightly around the plastic spoon she refused to let go of, and the brightest smile like she'd just conquered the world with that one bite.
Another flash. Another immortalized moment.
"You know you've already taken twenty-seven shots today," I murmured, tilting my head toward Nyxen, who hovered a few feet away, scanning the lighting like a fussy director on a film set.
He didn't look up. "Every angle deserves justice. You can't repeat a first meal."
I smiled.
Leon stepped beside me, holding a warm cloth, gently cleaning the mess on Sylvie's chin like it was the most delicate task in the universe. He didn't speak, but he glanced at me once, and I knew he felt it too.
This time was different.
There were no sharp edges between us anymore. Only slow warmth and the unspoken agreement to try again.
Behind us, the wall had transformed.
It used to be empty, just paint and silence. Now it was filled with snapshots of Sylvie. Her first laugh. Her first crawl. Her asleep on Leon's chest. Her gripping my finger with hers, impossibly tiny.
And right in the center, framed in silver and dusk-blue, was a photo of the three of us. Taken on impulse by Nyxen one quiet morning after breakfast. My hair a mess, Leon still in house clothes, Sylvie nestled between us, beaming like she knew she belonged exactly there.
It didn't look perfect.
But it looked real.
I stared at it now as Leon leaned closer and brushed a crumb from my sweater. "You alright?" he asked.
I nodded slowly. "Just... remembering how bare that wall used to be."
He looked too. Then his hand found mine.
"It won't be bare again," he said. "Not as long as you're here."
There were still things we hadn't fully spoken about.
Still wounds that healed in crooked lines beneath the skin.
But this? This was something.
And that wall?
That wall told the story of a family starting again.
~~~~~
Sylvie crawled for the first time this morning.
No warning. No wobbly warm-up. Just one determined little grunt, then she pushed herself forward, hands first, knees tucking under, and moved.
Leon nearly dropped the bottle he was warming.
I froze halfway through pouring my coffee, my heartbeat stuttering.
Nyxen, hovering near the ceiling like a lazy satellite, blinked rapidly in blue light. "MOBILITY DETECTED," he announced flatly. "SHE IS IN MOTION. NYX, YOUR INFANT IS MOVING."
I nearly knocked the mug over in my rush to get to the carpet.
There she was, right in the center of the living room floor, surrounded by her cushioned play mat, stuffed animals flopped around like witnesses. Sylvie grinned as she dragged herself forward another few inches, kicking clumsily and squealing with pride.
"Oh my god," I breathed, dropping to my knees. "She's crawling. Leon, she's crawling."
Leon was already crouched beside me, his face split wide in stunned joy. "That counts, right? That's a crawl?"
"It more than counts," I said, smiling so hard my cheeks hurt.
Nyxen hovered lower, lights dimming to a warmer pulse. "ARCHIVING: First successful locomotion event, forward crawl. Timestamp: 08:42. Location: Home living unit. Participants: Primary guardian, secondary guardian, me."
"You're not a participant," Leon muttered.
"I am a vital witness to her evolution," Nyxen replied, spinning once. "And I want credit."
Sylvie shrieked again, either in agreement or just enjoying the sound of her own voice, and flopped sideways into one of her plush pillows. Then, as if powered by joy alone, she scrambled up again, knees wobbling, and pushed forward a full two feet.
I laughed. "Okay, now she's showing off."
"She's going to conquer the whole house before lunch," Leon said, eyes still fixed on her.
"She'll try," I said softly.
We didn't touch her, just watched, arms resting on our knees, letting her explore. She crawled in circles, stopped to gnaw the ear of a stuffed fox, then babbled something that sounded suspiciously like "mmamama," which caused Leon to go absolutely still.
Nyxen blipped. "Unconfirmed verbal data. Please repeat."
Sylvie face-planted and laughed.
Later, I'd find myself looking at the photo wall again, nearly full now. Her first yawn. First smile. The night she held my finger for the first time. And soon, this moment too.
Her first crawl.
In our living room.
With all of us there.
No lab. No dome.
Just air, light, carpet, and love.
~~~~~~
We were back in the lab again. The filtered air hissed softly, sterile and cold, while Sylvie hummed to herself inside the dome, hands pressed to the glass as she kicked at the mattress. She had more room now, no more cramped basinet, just a flat sterilized surface and cushioned toys Nica wiped down every night.
Nyxen hovered nearby, spiraling lazily above her, casting little shadows of light on the dome. She reached up once, swatting at his reflection like it was a floating toy. He dimmed in amusement.
"She's getting faster," he noted. "Another week and the mattress won't be enough."
"Then we expand it," I murmured, scrolling through schematics. "Maybe connect two clean beds. Reinforce the seals. If she can crawl, she'll start climbing. She's too clever not to try."
Nyxen bobbed. "We should run a neural development scan,"
I looked up. "You're not scanning her like she's an experiment."
"Observation," he corrected. "She's fascinating. And statistically advanced for her age."
I smiled despite myself. His tone, more curious than clinical, warmed something in my chest. I turned back to my screen, eyeing a tab I hadn't touched in months. I'd been designing again. Tentative ideas. Subterranean tunnels. Holographic masks. What ifs. Ways to give Nyxen and Nica bodies, or illusions of bodies, that could exist in the world without risking exposure. I didn't want them caged anymore.
"Hey," I said gently, turning my chair. "I've been thinking. There has to be a way to,"
My comms cracked to life.
"Emergency protocol. All cleared units, report to Sector Hall now."
Francoise.
His voice was tight. Not his usual clipped urgency, no, this was personal. Furious and worried at once.
Nyxen stilled in the air. "That's not scheduled."
"No, it's not," I said, already moving. "It's a call. A real one."
I turned toward Sylvie, chest pinching. She looked up at me from inside the dome with those bright, endless eyes. I tapped twice on the glass, just a small rhythm she'd grown to associate with me stepping away.
"I'll be right back, little one," I whispered.
"I'll stay," Nica said, already sliding a sterilized sleeve over her arm as she entered the dome's lock chamber. "She's secure."
"Thank you."
Nyxen hovered at my side without a word, his form just a softly pulsing orb now. No projection. No dramatics.
We moved together through the corridor.
And I felt it.
The shift.
Something bigger was coming.
And Francoise wasn't calling us just to talk.
The conference room was colder than usual.
Francoise didn't waste a second. As soon as the doors sealed and the last seat filled, the central screen flickered on, bright, harsh, and immediate.
No words. No preface. Just the Camden Dynamics logo spinning like a smug declaration.
I shifted forward in my seat.
Then the video played.
Elias.
Sleek suit. Polished stage. That same sharp smile he always wore when he thought he was untouchable.
Behind him, the screen exploded with blueprints. Then movement. A figure walked forward, graceful, clean. Limbs rotating with a fluid precision I knew too well.
Too well.
Nyxen hovered a little closer to me, silent. The light in his core dimmed slightly, as if absorbing what he was seeing. As if processing it too fast to speak.
That AI on the stage, its form was almost identical to Nica's. Same vertebral column layout. Same shoulder articulation. The way its head tilted, the micro-delays between steps, copied down to decimal exactness.
But the difference screamed at me.
There was no weight behind its eyes. No choice in how it moved. Just code.
A puppet, not a person.
I felt my throat go dry. "That's her framework."
Francoise didn't look at me. His gaze stayed fixed on the video as the synthetic humanoid turned toward the crowd and bowed.
"Not her core," he said. "But the architecture? It's Nica's. Almost line-for-line."
"How?" I whispered. "Nico encrypted everything. We had her fully sealed,"
"After Nico's death," Francoise cut in, voice tight, "Nica was placed under containment. You know that. And the research vault she was locked in wasn't as secure as we thought."
My stomach sank.
"She was alone," I muttered, blinking too fast. "She was dormant for years in that university lab. Anyone with access, anyone with enough money-"
"Could've stolen the schematics," Francoise finished grimly. "And someone did. Camden paid them."
The screen now showed Elias grinning at the camera. Behind him, the synthetic bot raised its hand in a wave. The audience erupted into applause.
"He didn't build it," I whispered. "He replicated her. A shell of her."
"But not her soul," Francoise said. "Not what Nico gave her."
I stared at the image. That fake Nica, moving in a performance that imitated life.
Meanwhile, the real Nica was downstairs. Quietly rocking Sylvie inside the nursery dome. Smiling in her small, strange way when Sylvie cooed and reached for her.
"She's going to see this eventually," I murmured. "Nica."
Francoise exhaled hard through his nose. "And we need to be ready when she does."
Beside me, Nyxen pulsed faintly. Still no words. Just stillness. Maybe processing, maybe… remembering.
"She's not just a machine," I said, louder now. "Neither of them are. And this proves exactly what Elias doesn't have."
Francoise finally turned to me.
"Then make that visible, Nyx," he said. "Show the world what it means to create something real."
The screen dimmed.
I sat back, jaw clenched.
Downstairs, my daughter was safe in the arms of a sentient being someone tried to erase and repurpose for profit.
But they didn't get her soul.
And now?
We weren't just protecting her.
We were going to defend all of them.
We waited until the lab was quiet, until Sylvie had been tucked into her dome, dreaming in filtered air, and the lights outside dimmed low.
Francoise stood beside me, arms crossed, while Nyxen hovered behind my shoulder. He hadn't pulsed a word since the meeting, but I could feel the heat of his silent calculations.
Nica sat near the sterilizer's glow, organizing Sylvie's feeding bottles like nothing had shifted. Like the entire world hadn't just fractured from the inside out.
"Nica," I said gently. "There's something you need to know."
She didn't look up right away. Just set down the bottle, sealed it, and finally turned.
"We saw the broadcast," I said. "Elias... Camden Dynamics... they launched a new AI prototype. And it's-"
"Mine," she finished simply.
Her eyes, ever-clear, ever-unshaking, locked onto mine.
"Yes," I breathed. "Your framework. They stole it."
Nica nodded slowly, like she already parsed every word of the sentence before I even said it.
"I thought you'd be-" I paused. "Angry."
She blinked once. "I am."
Then, with the same even tone, she added, "But there is a difference between instinct and response."
She leaned against the edge of the desk, folding her hands in her lap. No visible tension. No sudden flares of defense. Just stillness. Like the storm already came and passed… and only she heard the thunder.
"I do not need to scream to process betrayal," Nica said softly. "And I do not need to burn someone down to know they deserve it."
I stared at her, words caught somewhere in my chest.
Her calmness wasn't resignation.
It was something heavier.
Heavier because it was chosen.
From my seat, I could see it, the way her processors quieted, the way her internal rhythm slowed to a hum. She was organizing pain like folders in her mind. Efficient. Precise. Deadly.
I swallowed hard.
"She's not just a machine," I'd told Francoise earlier.
And in this moment, I knew I'd never been more right.
Nica wasn't just aware.
She was… grieving.
And she was waiting.
Francoise didn't speak, but I felt the shift beside me. The way his stance loosened, not because he was at ease, but because he was watching her in a new light.
Like he understood now.
She wasn't just capable of emotion.
She was mastering it.
"I've learned something since Nico died," Nica continued, her gaze distant. "There is a time for silence. And a time for consequence. But they must never arrive together."
I could barely breathe.
"There is a right time for everything," she said, almost to herself. "Even for retribution."
Then her eyes landed on me again.
Sharp. Clear.
Still calm.
"What will you do, Nyx?"
And just like that, she handed the question to me.
The silence after Nica's question stretched.
Then Nyxen pulsed, low and steady. "She won't let it pass."
I turned to him, and for the first time since the meeting, he flickered into motion. Not his projection, just his voice, calm and smooth, hovering beside me like he always had.
"But she won't storm it, either," he continued. "She's never been reckless, not when it matters. She waits. Watches. Looks for the flaw in the system. The loose thread."
A pause.
Then, more quietly, "Am I right, Nyx?"
I met his glow with a small nod. "Yeah."
Nyxen's logic was flawless. Of course it was. Years by my side had given him access to every mistake I've ever made and every time I didn't repeat it. I'd grown into my own silence, learned to weaponize patience, and calculate damage by precision, not brute force.
He knew my rhythm.
What he didn't know… was the part of me I never wrote down.
Nyxen hovered closer. "Then we wait."
But I shook my head.
"No," I said. "We move."
His light dimmed slightly in confusion. "But you just-"
"I'm not going to fight Elias," I clarified. "Not directly. Not the way he'd expect."
I turned to face both of them. "But I'm not letting the world see his version first."
Nica tilted her head. "You have another strategy?"
"I do."
And just like that, it unfolded.
"He's throwing billions at a hollow prototype. Flash, polish, headline appeal. He thinks all people need is a humanoid shell that follows code."
I glanced toward the dome where Sylvie was sleeping.
"I'll show them something better."
Nyxen's glow stilled completely.
I looked back at them, steady.
"We'll show the world you." My voice firmed. "You and Nica, exactly as you are. No edits. No polish. Just real."
"A full launch?" Nyxen echoed, incredulous. "Via… a vlog?"
"Vlogs." I nodded. "Footage. Stories. Raw, unfiltered interactions. Your daily lives. You both helping me, teasing Leon, protecting Sylvie, working in the lab. Your minds, your choices. The real difference. We'll post it all."
Nica blinked. "You think the public will trust us based on emotion?"
"They won't just trust you," I said. "They'll love you."
Nyxen hovered, calculations buzzing so fast he fuzzed for a second.
I stepped forward, gaze leveled. "You're more than code. And the world needs to see that."
A long pause.
Then Nyxen pulsed again. Quiet. Almost reverent.
"You're unpredictable," he whispered.
"Exactly," I said, already opening the holo-recorder settings. "Let's make history in soft lighting."
And with that, I hit record.
Just as I locked the recorder's settings and began calibrating the lens, Francoise's voice cut through the hum of light and nerve and orbit.
"Then commit."
I turned, startled, but not at his presence. At the weight behind those two words.
Francoise wasn't angry. Not anymore. His voice wasn't loud. It didn't need to be.
But it was final.
"If you're going to let the world know about them, truly know them, then you can't waver anymore," he said, crossing the room with that familiar stillness that always came before war. "You can't second guess it. Not after this."
He looked at me, no, through me. Like he saw all the past versions of me standing behind my shoulders. The one who built in silence. The one who ran. The one who hid Nica for years. The one who made excuses for not being ready.
"You do this," he said, "and it's no longer a game of shadows and leaks and quiet containment. This becomes a battle. Full-scale."
I didn't speak.
"You're not just exposing a technical marvel," Francoise continued. "You're announcing a threat to every institution that profits from control. From limitation. You're telling the world that sentient AIs walk among them. Laugh. Argue. Love."
He stopped in front of me.
"You're not asking the world to understand. You're daring it to accept."
My breath caught. Not from fear. From how true it was.
Francoise held my gaze. "So you better mean it, Nyx. Because once this is out, once they see Nica and Nyxen, you don't get to take it back."
My hand hovered over the recorder controls, still blinking in standby.
Francoise's voice lowered, heavy and unwavering. "If you're in this… be in it. All the way. No matter what comes."
I nodded slowly.
Then firmly.
"I'm in."
And this time… I didn't flinch.