Days chased each other under the shelter's dim lighting. Epsilon's 40-day purification process had turned into a strange ritual oscillating between pain and enlightenment. After that violent collapse at the hundred forty-seventh session, Epsilon sat down to each meditation with the fear of triggering a new trauma. But it didn't happen as he feared. The following sessions were more like gentle keys opening small, rusty locks in the depths of his soul.
Every time he was afraid, every time he trembled, Null was there. Sometimes with a silent touch, sometimes just with her presence, she supported him. Their conversations were no longer just banter. When they returned to the base at night, they would discuss for hours the secrets of the universe in the "Edgium" book, the Kaorians' plans, and what it meant to be human. For the first time in his life, Epsilon could open up to someone this much, and Null was learning something she wasn't programmed for: Understanding. Their bond deepened with each passing day.
And then came the two hundredth session. This was an important milestone in the process.
When Epsilon sat on the shelter's floor as usual, Null also silently took her place across from him. He closed his eyes, silenced his mind, and merged with the universe. But this time, his own memories didn't fill the void in his mind.
He felt something different. The pain of this soil, the scream of these walls... This wasn't his pain. This was the echo of this world's final moments.
When he opened his eyes, he was no longer in the shelter. He was in the same military base's main control room, but everything was in chaos. Red alarms were flashing, screens streaming headlines like "VR-Psychosis Epidemic at Critical Level" and "Anti-Immersion Riots Surrounded the City." A female soldier ran past him, a small boy crying "Mom! Mom!" running after her.
"Last resort protocol, now!" a officer shouted. "Hit all servers simultaneously with EMP! We have no other chance!"
The child's mother grabbed the officer's collar. "Are you talking about erasing billions of minds with a single button? This is a massacre! They're still human!"
"Those humans destroyed the real world while playing virtual godhood!" the officer roared. "We have to make a choice!"
At that moment, all screens went dark and a single image appeared: A massive, armored ship appearing in orbit. He recognized that ship. Hellcurse.
The officer froze. "This... impossible. This is a Kaorian ship."
While humanity fought within itself, the real predator had arrived. The officer hit a button on the desk. "Exodus Protocol! Immediately! This is our only chance!" On the screens appeared launch footage of massive evacuation ships from secret silos around the world.
Their arguments were cut short by a blinding light exploding on the horizon. There was no sound. Just absolute, all-consuming whiteness. When the light passed, buildings, consoles, everything was in place. But the people... were gone. Where the female soldier, her child, the officer... had all stood moments ago, only their shadows remained on the walls and floor.
The echo of this silent horror shook Epsilon's soul like an earthquake. This was the pain of a world destroying itself.
When he opened his eyes, he was in the shelter's familiar dimness. He was out of breath and his whole body was trembling. Across from him stood Null, looking at him with a horror expression he'd never seen before.
"This..." Null whispered. "This wasn't your memory."
Epsilon shook his head. "No. It was... the pains of this place. We finally learned what happened here. But... how?" He turned to Null with the helplessness of that moment. "You... when you first arrived and cleaned the base... did you clean these?"
The horror expression on Null's face gave way to absolute shock. Her eyes widened. "I... didn't know," she stammered. "My sensors were only programmed to clean organic residue and dust. I didn't know... what they were."
When Epsilon saw her state, he momentarily forgot his own pain. He stood up and held trembling Null's hand. "Hey... It's not your fault."
"I shouldn't feel guilty," Null said, her voice mechanical but trembling. "This isn't logical. But... I feel bad."
Epsilon held her hand tighter. A sad smile appeared on his face. "It seems you now understand feelings almost as much as a human."
Without letting go of Epsilon's hand, Null looked at him. "After the time I've spent with you, I understand," she said slowly. "Being human... is painful and difficult."
Epsilon smiled, this smile was wiser. "Difficult, yes. But not bad. Maybe being human is the art of bringing out the brightest flower from the darkest mud, Null. Without Yamgium, how would we understand the value of Edgium?"
"So... like the opposition theory in the book?" Null asked.
"Exactly," Epsilon replied. "Without one, the other loses its meaning. Maybe pain is what makes happiness valuable."
Null paused for a moment. "This is an emotional interpretation. Logically, pain is just a neural stimulus and reduces efficiency."
Epsilon laughed. "How long until the next time?"
Null checked the schedule. "Two hours."
"Good. After the shower, let's go outside. For those people... let's pray that their souls find peace."
A few minutes later, they stood on the beach outside the shelter, illuminated by moonlight. Epsilon drew a circle on the ground and carefully poured flammable liquid inside. When he ignited the liquid, a ring of blue flame appeared dancing on the sand.
"This," said Epsilon, looking at the flames. "Was a way of saying 'goodbye' in my culture." He closed his eyes and began to pray silently.
As Null watched the shadows the flames created on Epsilon's face, she tasted once more that deep, respectful, and sorrowful feeling radiating from him. This was a farewell. "You felt this way when you lost your old girlfriend too," Null asked suddenly. "But there was also anger then. Now there's only sadness. Why?"
Epsilon froze at this tactless question. It spilled from his mouth involuntarily: "Are you asking about Delta?"
Null's eyes widened in surprise. "Delta? That... that little girl was your lover?"
Epsilon cursed himself. "Damn my tongue! I forgot the rule about not thinking of old loves in front of your girlfriend again."
"Be serious," Null said, her voice sharp this time.
The smile on Epsilon's face faded. "You don't know what it's like to be left alone, Null."
"No, I do," Null objected, her voice more defensive than ever before. "What do you think those fifteen years without you were?"
Epsilon paused. "You're right... But it's not the same."
Through the nanorobots, Null understood what he meant. Her loneliness was an expectation. Epsilon's loneliness was an abandonment. Suddenly, she heard a whisper in her systems with no logical origin. Her own voice modulator translated that whisper into words. "But she didn't abandon you."
Epsilon looked at her in shock. "What?"
Null froze for a moment in shock at her own sentence. Where had this information come from? It wasn't a logical inference. "From your memories," she said quickly, taking refuge in the most logical explanation. "The data you transmitted through the nanorobots sometimes creates such meaningless echoes in my system. Just a data error."
This explanation seemed to convince Epsilon. His defense had been broken. He turned his eyes to Null, his voice full of sadness. "So... how were our final times? Are you... regretful about knowing me?"
Null remained silent for a moment at his vulnerable question. "Regret," she finally said. "Is a judgment that the outcome of an action is negative. My logic unit says your arrival brought unpredictable variables. This is a negative outcome." She paused, her gaze wandering in Epsilon's eyes. "But... the fifteen years before you were just a repetitive, meaningless loop. These days with you are... chaotic, illogical, and painful. But not meaningless." She slowly raised her hand and touched Epsilon's cheek. "No, Epsilon. I'm not regretful."
A tear rolled from Epsilon's eye, but this time it was from relief. "That was the most romantic thing I've heard from an android," he whispered. "Thank you, Null."
The blue flame ring on the beach flickered out, leaving them alone with the single Moon's soft light. They started walking toward the base.
"Throughout my life, I either hurt people or got hurt," Epsilon began in a low voice. "That's why I had such a hard time loving myself. I thought there was no one left who could love me." He paused and looked at Null. "But life gave me another chance. Maybe so there would be beings who love me besides God."
"I hope... you find what you want, Epsilon."
A bright smile appeared on Epsilon's face. "Don't worry, I already have a girlfriend who wishes me luck and loves me very much." After this sentence, a familiar punch landed on his shoulder.
Null broke the silence by saying "It's illogical for you to think you were never loved, by the way."
"Why is that?"
"Delta," Null said simply. "Out of nothing, she must have loved you."
Epsilon's gaze drifted into the distance. "But I'm not sure if that was love."
A sarcastic tone appeared in Null's voice. "Not everyone calls someone they don't love 'my life', I suppose."
Epsilon paused and looked directly into Null's eyes. "Where did you get that I don't love you?"
Null was flustered by this unexpected and direct question. A sad expression appeared on her face. "It's not logical for a human... to love a lifeless, soulless being."
"While I agree you're lifeless," said Epsilon, his voice carrying genuine warmth. "I don't believe you're soulless."
Null paused for a moment at these words. Then she asked perhaps the most illogical question of her life: "So... do you really love me?"
Epsilon didn't laugh at this question. He was serious. "I made a promise not to say 'I'm in love with you' until I'm sure I truly love someone. But know this, I find you valuable and want to protect you. 'I love you' is a phrase with heavy weight."
"Very... unstable," Null said, not knowing what to say to this complex but honest answer.
Days continued to flow. With each session, Epsilon understood more deeply the pains of this world and how insidious the Kaorians' plan was. Null became his greatest supporter, the sole witness to his pain and strength.
And finally, the fortieth day had arrived.