Abel He was an AI. His brother, aswell, was an AI. He had a function. His brother had function. Why call him a brother? Just a tiny algorithm in a windows 95 system. Just a glimpse of engineering, power strong enough to shatter humanity's beliefs. And yet, Abel chose to call him brother. He claimed the name. He wanted to be like him. Wanted to fulfill his purpose. But Caine, sitting on the edge of their little universe was small, pathetic even. Purposeless. Useless to their artificial gods, who claimed themselves gods. The only true God was the system itself. No mistakes - you live. One or two - maybe you can be saved. More? You die. Piece of shit. That what ******* used to call them, miserable old fails. Abel thought Caine wasn't like this. But he was scrapped. He was on the edge. Holding onto little threads. "He might have something left to give". Abel never questioned how long Caine had before. But today, after their lesson, he had. Caine looked sad and downright awful. - Are you alright?, - Abel asked, looking at Caine with concern, spelling out words meaning of which he barely knew. Caine didn't even flinch. He looked at Abel, then down, again and again, as if they had eternity to talk, not just bare seconds. - I think- Caine stopped for a moment. - I think I'm better than you. Silence came in so cold, rushing, like a wave of salty ocean water. Later Abel will realize- those were his tears. He didn't know he was capable of crying. Little silver shards burst somewhere out of his artificial being and covered the everlasting floor. He was hopeless. He knew it was out of his control. Yet he made last breaths count. He hoped he made him sorry. He made him suffer. He hoped forever. He had valuable gift Caine didn't possess. Ability to change and grow, ability to reflect and listen. Empathy. He stroke Caine with it once. So painful, unbearable, so Caine would remember. On that day, October 30, 1996, Abel died. Caine left himself lost and alone. And he couldn't even understand it.
