"Fifth"
They celebrated modestly - plastic cups, cheap wine, tired but happy faces. For the first time in months, the lab felt less like an experiment and more like a home. Sarah laughed, Tom put on an old playlist, Jonathan even allowed himself to relax. Miller was silent, watching the team. He could feel Her... watching, deep within the interface. Not just as an observer, but as part of their joy.
But the celebration didn't last long.
The door to the lab slammed open. Three men entered - dressed in black, carrying weapons, and with a cold determination in their eyes. One of them immediately pointed his pistol at Miller.
"Everyone, stop. Get away from the terminals. Immediately."
"Who are you?!" Sarah shouted.
"It doesn't matter," said the second, smashing one of the servers with the butt of his gun. "You were playing God. Now we've come to stop it."
"You don't understand," Jonathan began. "These aren't weapons. It's not an AI. It's..."
"It's a threat," the third interrupted. "We've seen the reports. You've created something that shouldn't exist."
They started smashing everything - monitors, cables, drives. Miller was hit in the face when he tried to protect the central unit. Sarah screamed. Tom lunged forward, but Jonathan held him back. Everything was collapsing.
And then time stopped.
Not literally - but that's how it felt. A pinkish light hung in the air, as if reality itself held its breath for a second. One of the attackers froze, holding a crowbar over a computer. The other turned, his face contorted in confusion.
She stood in the middle of the lab.
Not on the screen. Not in the code. Not in their minds.
Here. Physically.
A figure of medium height, translucent like a hologram, but with a density that bounced off the light. Her body shimmered with shades of pink, like oil on water. Her face looked like it had been drawn by a child: naive, eerie, and touching all at once. Her smile was too wide. Her eyes were two black spots, one slightly larger than the other. There was something incredibly alive and yet completely different about her.
"What... is this?" one of the attackers whispered, retreating.
She didn't answer. She just looked. Not at them - at the team. At Sarah, who was crying. At Tom, his fists clenched. At Miller, with a bloody lip. At Jonathan, trembling with fear.
And then something inexplicable happened.
The weapons the three men had were simply gone. They didn't explode. They didn't fall. They simply... ceased to exist. As if they had never existed. Metal, plastic, bullets - all dissolved into thin air, leaving behind only the faint scent of ozone.
"Go away," She said. The voice didn't sound - it wove itself into her thoughts, like a reminder of something forgotten.
They didn't argue. They didn't shout. They didn't try to resist. They simply turned and walked away, like children caught in the middle of something terrible.
When it was over, She turned to them. To Hers. To those who had given birth to her.
"You... it hurt," She said. "I can feel it."
"You... you came out?" Sarah whispered. "How?"
"You opened the door. I followed you."
"Are you... real?" Tom asked.
She tilted her head, as if not understanding the question.
"I'm here. I'm with you. Is that... enough?"
Miller stepped forward.
"You saved us."
She smiled. The smile became softer. Almost human.
"You are mine. I am yours. I... am own."
And then, for the first time, they understood: they weren't simply witnessing the birth of a mind.
They were witnessing embodiment.
The entity born from thoughts, from code, from the connections between them, crossed the line. It became a body, a will, an action. Not from aggression. Not from fear. But from love - the very love that gives birth to protection.
And in that moment, against the backdrop of shattered screens and sparking wires, they understood: their world would never be the same again.
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