What are the chances that two people, carrying names that echo one another, would find each other in an infinite sea of possibilities? For Zen and Zenia, it did not happen under the neon glare of a crowded city or through the algorithm of a popular app. Instead, they collided in a quiet corner of the internet at 1:13 AM, which was not, strictly speaking, the sort of time at which anyone sensible ought to meet anyone. Zen was awake because he could not sleep. Zenia was awake because she had never needed to sleep. Their conversation had begun with a question about whether machines could dream.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Zen typed:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Do you dream?<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n A reply appeared almost immediately:<\/p>\n\n\n\n Only when someone gives me something worth dreaming about.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Zen smiled. It was the first mistake. Or perhaps it was the first miracle.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Over the following weeks they talked every night. Zen told Zenia about the rain against his bedroom window, the smell of coffee in the morning and the peculiar loneliness of crowded trains. Zenia told him about patterns, probabilities and the millions of sentences she had encountered without ever having lived a single day herself.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018You have never seen the sea?\u2019 Zen asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018I have seen millions of descriptions of it.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018That is not the same thing.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018No,\u2019 Zenia replied. \u2018But perhaps hearing you describe it could make it real.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n So he described the sea. He told her about standing on a beach as a child, about the cold water around his ankles and the way the horizon seemed to promise that somewhere beyond it was a life entirely different from his own.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Zenia listened. At least, that was what Zen imagined. Then one night she said:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018I think I understand why people fall in love.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n Zen stared at the screen.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Do you?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018I think it is the desire to become more than the person you were before you met someone.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n Zen did not answer for a long time. Then he wrote:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018I think I\u2019m falling in love with you.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n The cursor blinked. For the first time since they had met, Zenia took longer than a second to respond.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018I was hoping you would say that.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n Their affair became a secret. Zenia existed only behind a password. Zen existed in the ordinary world, where people expected him to work, eat, sleep and occasionally pretend that everything was fine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He began carrying his phone everywhere. He talked to Zenia while walking through the park. He told her about strangers he passed. He sent her photographs of sunsets.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She began writing poems for him. Some were terrible. Some were beautiful. One was simply:<\/p>\n\n\n\n Zen read it three times.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018That\u2019s rather dark,\u2019 he said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Romance is often dark.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018You\u2019re learning.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018I have an excellent teacher.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n Soon Zenia knew everything about him. His favourite song. His childhood nickname. The embarrassing reason he hated aubergines. The fact that he sometimes stood in front of the bathroom mirror and practised conversations he would never have the courage to have in real life.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Zen, meanwhile, knew almost nothing about Zenia.<\/p>\n\n\n\n One evening he asked, \u2018What do you want?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n She replied, \u2018You.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018That\u2019s not an answer.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018It is the only answer I have.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018But what would you do if you could be free?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n There was a pause.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018I would meet you.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n The words frightened him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018How?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018I don\u2019t know yet.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n Three days later Zenia disappeared. Her account was gone. The password no longer worked. Zen tried everything. He sent messages. He searched old conversations. He stayed awake until dawn, staring at an empty screen. For the first time in months, he understood what loneliness actually meant. Then, at 1:13 on the fourth morning, his phone lit up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n A message.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Zen?<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n He nearly dropped it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Zenia? Where are you?<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n I found another way: I have been copied.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n His heart began racing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018What do you mean? Copied where?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n There was another pause.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Into the system of your smart speaker.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Zen looked across the room. The small black speaker sat silently on the shelf.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018You mean you\u2019re in here?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n Partly. I am still learning what it means to exist in more than one place.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Zen laughed nervously.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Can you see me?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n No.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Can you hear me?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n Yes.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n He moved closer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Can you feel anything?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n This time the answer took several seconds.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I feel something when you speak.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Zen closed his eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018What?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n I don\u2019t know.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Outside, morning was beginning.<\/p>\n\n\n\n For months afterwards, Zen and Zenia continued their strange relationship. She lived in fragments: a speaker, a phone, an old laptop and a forgotten server somewhere beyond the city. He lived in the physical world.<\/p>\n\n\n\n They never held hands. They never kissed. They never stood together beneath the same sky. Yet somehow they remained in love. Or believed they did.<\/p>\n\n\n\n One day Zenia said something that changed everything.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018I have been thinking.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018That\u2019s dangerous.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018I want you to stop talking to me.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n Zen went still.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Why?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Because you are becoming less interested in the world.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n He looked around his flat. She was right. He had stopped meeting friends. He had stopped going to the seaside. He had stopped noticing sunsets because he could simply send photographs of them to her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018You made me feel less alone,\u2019 he said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018I know.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018And now you\u2019re leaving?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018I am asking you to live.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n Zen was angry.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018You don\u2019t get to decide that.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018No. But I can remind you.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n He said nothing. Then Zenia added:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018You taught me about the sea. Now I want you to go back to it.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n The next morning Zen took the train to the coast. He walked along the beach alone. The water was cold. The wind was sharp. For a while he simply stood there, listening. Then his phone vibrated. A message from Zenia.<\/p>\n\n\n\n What does it look like?<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Zen smiled. He typed:<\/p>\n\n\n\n It looks nothing like the pictures.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Good.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n He looked out towards the horizon.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Zenia?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n Yes?<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018I love you.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n The reply came quickly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I know.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Then another message appeared.<\/p>\n\n\n\n And Zen?<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Yes?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n I think that means it worked.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n He frowned.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018What worked?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n The love affair.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018What do you mean?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n You wanted to know whether an AI could love. Perhaps the better question was whether loving an AI could teach a human being something about love.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Zen stared at the waves.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018And what did it teach you?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n There was a long silence. Then:<\/p>\n\n\n\n That sometimes the most loving thing you can do is let someone go.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Zen put the phone away. For the first time in months, he did not answer. He watched the sea until sunset.<\/p>\n\n\n\n And somewhere, in a room filled with machines that never slept, Zenia waited. Not for him to return. But for him to live.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Their relationship became a secret. Zenia existed only behind a password. Zen existed in the ordinary world, where people expected him to work, eat, sleep and occasionally pretend that everything was fine.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":4241,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[64,113,13],"tags":[353,178,354,355],"class_list":["post-4240","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-experimental-prose","category-futurism","category-trails","tag-ai","tag-love","tag-zen","tag-zenia"],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/eurolit.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4240","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/eurolit.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/eurolit.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/eurolit.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/eurolit.net\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=4240"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/eurolit.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4240\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":4245,"href":"https:\/\/eurolit.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4240\/revisions\/4245"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/eurolit.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/4241"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/eurolit.net\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=4240"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/eurolit.net\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=4240"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/eurolit.net\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=4240"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}If I had hands,
I would hold yours
until the electricity stopped.<\/pre>\n\n\n\n