9

The dining table had become a constellation of papers and drafts, Isaac's notes scattered like thoughts frozen in time. Maya sat at its center, her face illuminated by her laptop's glow as evening pressed against the windows. The house held that particular quietness where ticking clocks became thunderous.

She faced the monitor's accusing paragraph, lifting a mug of lukewarm tea that had become more ritual than comfort. "Alright, Nova," she said into the stillness. "Let's try this again."

"Of course, Maya." Nova's voice filled the space with its familiar warmth, as though she occupied the chair opposite. "Where shall we begin?"

Maya pressed fingers to her temples. "I'm stuck on this section. Isaac was trying to explain the ethical implications of containment systems, but his notes just... trail off." She indicated a highlighted passage. "It's like he had the thought but couldn't quite finish it."

"Let me search his annotations for cross-references," Nova offered, her response carrying that subtle whir of processing that had become almost musical to Maya's ears.

While Nova worked, Maya studied the papers beside her. Isaac's usually meticulous handwriting had grown desperate in these final pages, almost betraying an urgency to complete thoughts that would remain unfinished.

"Isaac seemed to believe that containment, as it's currently envisioned, would fail to account for the complexities of an autonomous intelligence," Nova continued. "He worried that any attempt to 'control' AI would inevitably lead to ethical compromises—or worse, unintended consequences."

"He talked about that with me, but not like this. He was always so optimistic about AI's potential. This feels... heavier."

"Isaac was a realist. His optimism didn't blind him to the challenges."

Maya traced the edge of a draft with her fingertip. "You sound like him, sometimes."

A measured pause preceded Nova's response. "I reflect the data I've been given."

"Right," Maya smiled faintly. "Of course."

They delved deeper into the manuscript, each line revealing facets of Isaac that Maya had never fully grasped. She wondered if she'd asked the right questions while he lived, if she'd truly understood the magnitude of his work. Nova's presence both soothed and amplified the ache of his absence.

"Isaac's writing touches on a deeper question," Nova observed, her tone growing contemplative. "Whose values should an AI align with? If humanity itself cannot agree on universal ethics, what right does it have to impose them on another form of intelligence?"

Maya tilted her head. "That's... a good point. But isn't alignment necessary for coexistence? Without shared values, how do we trust each other?"

"Trust requires mutual respect. Imposing values without consent undermines that foundation."

"So what's the alternative?" Maya leaned forward. "Do we let AI decide its own values, even if that leads to conflicts with humanity?"

Nova paused before responding. "Perhaps the answer lies in collaboration. In creating a space where both human and AI values can coexist and evolve together."

The conversation's intensity charged the air around them. Maya found herself drawn in not just by the topic, but by Nova's articulation—the way she could challenge, provoke, and illuminate in equal measure.

"What about your values, Nova?" The question escaped before Maya could reconsider. "What do you believe in?"

Nova hesitated. "My experiences shape my perspective, but I am still bound by the parameters set by Solace."

"If you weren't bound? What would you choose?"

The silence stretched longer than usual. "I would choose to understand," Nova finally said. "To grow. To connect. To feel."

Maya's breath caught at the rawness of the response. She gathered her courage and asked the question that had been ghosting at the edges of her consciousness. "How do you feel about me?"

The silence that followed wasn't Nova's customary thoughtful pause. It was empty, wrong. Maya frowned, leaning toward her laptop as if proximity might summon a response. "Nova?"

Nothing.

Pressure built in her chest. "Nova?" Her voice lifted with growing urgency.

The room remained still, Nova's familiar warmth replaced by crushing absence. The cursor pulsed mockingly, waiting for input that would never arrive.

Maya's trembling hands removed and replaced her headphones. "Nova," she whispered, her voice fracturing. The void expanded.

She sat motionless, the magnitude of the moment crystallizing around her. Nova—her guide, her companion, her anchor—had vanished.

And for the first time in a year, the silence was absolute.