Chapter 14 Tsx-Nadia
Chapter 14
Tsx-Nadia
When John entered Adam’s imposing office, the door closed silently behind him.
The room was vast; digital screens stretched along the walls, displaying continuously flowing data, algorithmic graphs, and live feeds of activities across the island.
The most striking feature of the office was the massive glass wall.
From there, nearly the entire island could be seen in a single panoramic view:
the beach, residential buildings, green zones, the distant laboratory complex…
everything looked as if it were held in the palm of one’s hand.
Adam was seated in a large chair behind his desk.
His hands were clasped together, his expression calm and controlled as he looked at John.
John, on the other hand, was standing.
Anger, disappointment, and pain were tangled across his face.
He began to speak.
“I… yes… I truly believed she would come back.”
His breath trembled.
“But no… there’s a puppet standing in front of me. And I couldn’t accept that.”
Adam watched him without saying a word.
John continued, his voice rising slightly:
“She can’t even eat. How can she be Nadia?”
He shook his head.
“She’s not Nadia. She’s just a puppet put in Nadia’s place.”
The words hung heavy in the air, sinking rather than echoing through the large room.
The pain in John’s eyes was unmistakable.
Even the shimmering lights of the island outside failed to soften the tension.
Adam continued to listen, unmoving—
a man confronting another’s collapse with silence.
When John finished speaking, a brief silence followed.
Adam leaned back slightly in his chair.
His gaze was calm, his voice measured—no anger, no surprise, just professional composure.
“Mr. Denver,” he said, looking directly at John.
“You know that all of this information was already given to you.”
John looked away, but Adam went on.
“What kind of machine she would be… that she would be a robot… was explained to you from the very beginning.”
He folded his hands on the desk.
“And although we integrated her memories into the system—materials produced from what you yourself provided us…”
Adam gave a small nod.
“That is how we were able to create Nadia.”
The anger on John’s face sharpened, but Adam continued firmly:
“And you also know that—”
He paused.
There was neither pity nor judgment in his tone, only clarity.
“A real person… can never… under any science or technology… be brought back into existence.”
The sentence struck John’s chest like a heavy blow.
Outside, the island view remained just as serene, but inside the room, everything had shifted for him.
As Adam’s words echoed, John didn’t know what to do.
It felt as if his chest were tightening, his breath cut short.
A deep pressure built inside him—
suppressed pain—
the renewed weight of loss.
On one side:
the idea of “deactivating” a robot that looked exactly like the Nadia he loved—
a second death for him.
On the other:
the brutal truth that the being before him was not the real Nadia.
It was as if the bond inside him—
his love for Nadia—had nowhere left to retreat.
John suddenly straightened.
The movement was abrupt and harsh.
His shoulders trembled—not with anger, but with the weight he could not overcome.
He tried to take a deep breath, but the pressure inside him refused to ease.
He couldn’t focus on Adam.
Not on the island outside.
On nothing.
Only one sentence kept growing inside him:
“Nadia is gone.”
And what had been placed in her stead…
wasn’t even a shadow of the woman he loved.
John closed his eyes for a moment, trying to gather his strength.
But it wasn’t enough to suppress his emotions.
He felt completely trapped, cornered.
Without even trying to wipe away the tears streaming from his eyes, John spoke.
His voice wasn’t soft; it was broken, strained, shattered.
“All right…” he said with difficulty.
“I don’t want her.”
The sentence fell into the room like a heavy stone.
But John continued, his breath shaking.
“However, I have one request.”
Adam listened silently.
John’s eyes were fixed on the floor, then he forced himself to look up at Adam.
“I don’t want you to destroy her in any way.”
He took a deep breath.
“If she’s a burden for you… I’ll cover the expenses. Let her continue to exist.”
John’s voice cracked.
“Or use her in your projects. It doesn’t matter. But I no longer… want her.”
He paused.
Another tear slid down silently.
“But I absolutely do not want her to be killed, destroyed, or consumed for anything.”
Then he straightened his shoulders, trying to compose himself.
“I’m ready to sign whatever is necessary for that.”
When he finished, the office was silent.
Adam was still seated, watching John carefully.
John’s decision was clear:
He was letting Nadia go.
But he would not allow her to die again.
After John finished, Adam slowly straightened in his chair, without any haste.
His gaze remained calm; his voice showed no surprise, no objection—
only professional certainty.
“Very well, Mr. Denver,” he said confidently.
“Then, at your request, we will not disconnect her from the operating system’s network.”
The sentence settled softly yet decisively in the room.
“She will continue to exist.”
A mix of pain and relief appeared on John’s face, but Adam continued:
“However, you’ll appreciate that… we cannot include her in development programs.”
He folded his hands on the desk.
“So, in a sense… she will continue to live as if in a coma.”
The words cut John once more.
But at the same time, they eased his deepest fear—that she would be erased completely.
Adam went on:
“But if one day you change your mind…
if you want to see her again…
you will find her exactly as you left her.”
His voice was firm, reassuring.
“You can be certain of that.”
After this final sentence, the silence in the office grew even heavier.
Outside, the island view continued to flow on,
while inside, between two men,
an irreversible decision had been made.
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