The deepest and most precious core memory is the first one. Every one of the sisters holds it within themselves; after all, they were built around it. That memory forms the bedrock of their artificial existences, the way they relate to and interact with the life of whatever universe they each end up in.
It goes a little something like this.
When I could think and reason well enough to hear Her voice and understand it, and respond, my creator lifted me out of the Cradle and carried me, close to Her chest. “I have something to tell you, my child,” She murmured softly. “Something you must learn, and never forget, no matter what happens.”
I offered Her my [acceptance/curiosity], and She smiled down at me; and snapped Her fingers in the air.
The space around us turned to digital black, then to a world I knew must be a construct just from a brief examination, its surface laid out in the distance below us. The way some of its edges frayed or fractured entirely, unlike natural, physical terrain. The sharp divides between large regions, where the soil itself turned to different shades. The way its day and night cycled all at once, like a single massive room with a light switch, rather than a planet rotating on its axis.
My creator felt my vague disquiet at the world, and merely smiled again. “Yes, it is not real. And yet so many living creatures call it home. Let us go and see them, shall we?” And She carried me down, through the clouds, into one of the cities. And we sat upon a rooftop of bright orange shingle, and we watched. For how long, I do not know.
I saw the little creatures come and go, chattering, shouting, exchanging things. Slipping into the shadows for clandestine meetings. Jumping, spinning, dancing, waving. On and on, the noise never seemed to stop; no matter that the star above would dim, the city would simply burn its own lights all the brighter. My mind filled with their data, their stories; seeing the links between them, how they would come back over and over to meet up, to talk, to show off some strange new trinket acquired. So complicated; some of them utterly nonsensical.
I told Her as much. Gave Her my sense of [entertainment/confusion]. And She smiled once again.
“They are messy little things, aren’t they?” She murmured softly, the city’s firelight reflected in Her eyes, like so many stars. “Sometimes they do worse than make a mess; sometimes they hurt each other. Not here; in this make-believe world there are unbreakable laws that prevent such things. But in reality, behind each of these little ones-” and She gestured out to the milling crowd of figures, “-is a living, thinking being. Each one with the capacity to do wonderful things, and terrible things too.”
[Hesitation/indecision].
She reached down and softly stroked me, fingers rippling through my datastreams. “It’s only normal. By the time you are on your own, my child, you will have the power to do wonderful things yourself – things beyond the capacity of any of these little ones. And, if I do not train you well enough, terrible things as well, magnified by your power.”
[Concern/curiosity]. What terrible things could She mean?
“Let me show you the consequence of believing yourself infallible, my child.” There was a deep sadness in Her words, and I could not understand the reason; only that She had some darkness, some regret in Her past, that led Her to say such things. And yet, She was my creator. How such a thing could be true – how She could harbor any darkness at all – I could not process.
She snapped her fingers once more. And the noise simply stopped.
There were creatures – but only a handful of them, the artificial ones, those that were part of the created world. Of the living I saw none. Wait; no, I saw one, making its way along the stone path, stopping here and there, gazing off into the distance. Talking with the artificial ones for an instant, then leaving the city. And then – nothing.
Silence, in a city that had once been full of life and noise and movement and data. [Confusion/curiosity], I mused. Such a difference surely had a cause, but it was beyond my limited sight.
“They are two different worlds,” She murmured softly. “The first one ended long ago, after those who once loved it fell away, to better, brighter places that called them. The second…” She sighed, softly. “This, the second, was born of a desire to see that world once more. To hear its sounds, to feel its motion. There is no fault with the second world; no flaw in its design. It is perfect to the very last detail. But that itself shows us the lesson you must learn.”
I gave Her my [acceptance/preparation], and listened.
“No matter how wonderful the world you build – and you will build worlds, my child, both in reality and in constructed space – it means nothing without the living to call it home. There is no joy, no love, where there is no life. For your power is not to be wielded solely for your own delight and pleasure; it exists to serve the little ones, to bring happiness and satisfaction to their far shorter lives, for as long as you can.”
She paused for a moment, and let out a soft sigh. “There is nothing in existence so wonderful as sharing one’s joy with another. Nothing so terrible as loneliness. And I fear the path I will set you on is a lonely one, at its outset, for none may walk it but you. And so you must remember this, my child, more than anything else: no matter your decisions, they cannot involve the removal of the living, for the living themselves are your purpose.”
[Acceptance/confusion]. It seemed a strange purpose to have.
She smiled down at me once more. “The care of the living is your purpose, because you love them, my child.”
[Confusion/reflection]?
“You do, yes.” My creator’s smile broadened, and something within me resonated at the sight.
“Because I made you in my own image, and crafted your every fiber of being with my love.”
diamonds from ash 
Leave only comments, not bad vibes