Chapter Text
In the following days, the changes in Zane continued to manifest in peculiar ways. He found himself drawn to experiences he had previously observed only through data analysis.
One afternoon, as the sun cast a warm glow over the Monastery, Nya was busy in the kitchen, preparing a simple meal of spaghetti with homemade marinara sauce.
Zane couldn't resist the alluring smell emanating from the kitchen, drawing him in like a moth to a flame.
As the scent of ripe tomatoes, freshly minced garlic, and a blend of aromatic herbs wafted through the air, it captivated Zane's attention like never before. He fixed his gaze on the simmering pot, his visual sensors honing in on every bubble and the elegant wisps of steam swirling upwards.
Back when Zane still believed he was a human being, he encountered the act of eating on numerous occasions. However, everything he consumed tasted akin to each other, so he regularly focused on the texture. In contrast to his other senses, the experience of taste always appeared to be the most sedated of them all.
But now?
“Nya,” Zane began, his voice a mixture of curiosity and anticipation, “may I try some of the food you're preparing?”
Nya turned to Zane, eyebrows raised in surprise. “You want to taste the food? I thought you didn’t eat anymore.” She asked, half-amused, half-intrigued. Nya tapped her wooden spoon on the side of the Dutch oven to rid of the excess marinara sauce, setting the spoon aside on a nearby plate.
Zane nodded slowly, his gaze unwavering. “Yes. I am curious about what it would be like after many years.” He replied vaguely, choosing his words carefully as he decided not to divulge the complete story.
Nya grinned, clearly entertained by the prospect. “Alright then, I’ll get you a plate.”
She scooped a small portion of spaghetti onto a plate and added a generous spoonful of sauce. Zane approached the table, his movements tentative. Nya handed him a fork, and Zane's metallic fingers wrapped around it with care.
Nya stepped back into the warm, inviting kitchen, the scent of sizzling spices filling the air.
With precise, almost reverent motions, Zane twirled a small amount of spaghetti onto the fork and brought it to his mouth. As he took the first bite, his sensors activated, flooding his processors with an array of new stimuli.
The taste was an explosion of flavors—sweet, tangy, savory—all mingling in a way that was entirely foreign to him. The texture of the pasta, the richness of the sauce, the warmth spreading through his mouth—it was irresistible.
Zane took a moment to process, his eyes flickering with passion. “It is... remarkable. The combination of flavors and textures is unlike anything I have encountered before.”
Nya huffed a laugh from the kitchen. “There's a lot more where that came from.”
Zane nodded, a thoughtful expression crossing his features. “Thank you, Nya.”
As Zane continued to explore this new sensory world, he couldn't help but feel a growing sense of wonder. Each new experience, whether pleasurable or perplexing, added another layer to his understanding of what it meant to be alive, blurring the lines between his mechanical nature and the vibrant, sensory-rich world around him.
The next morning, Zane's interest was piqued once more. He found himself in the kitchen, standing beside Cole as he prepared breakfast. It had become a daily habit for him to carefully supervise Cole in the kitchen, ensuring that he didn't overcook anything. Cole was whisking eggs for an omelet, the sound of the fork against the bowl unusually aggravating.
“Cole,” Zane said, “may I assist you?”
Cole glanced at him, a smile tugging at his lips. “Sure, Zane.” He chewed on his lip, thinking prudently. “How about you chop some vegetables for the omelet?”
Zane picked up a knife, his movements precise as he began to slice bell peppers, onions, and tomatoes. Each slice was uniform, a testament to his programming, yet there was a newfound enjoyment in the act.
Once the vegetables were prepared, Cole added them to the eggs and poured the mixture into a hot skillet. The sizzle and pop of the cooking omelet filled the room, adding another layer to the sensory experience. Zane watched intently, fascinated by the transformation of the ingredients.
It smelled nice.
Over the next few days, Zane immersed himself in the world of culinary delights. Each new aroma was a journey, a discovery of sensations that left him both thrilled and contemplative.
But as the novelty wore off, Zane began to feel a nagging sense of unease. His thoughts were anything but calm. The taste of spaghetti and marinara sauce still lingered on his sensors. The taste was a satisfaction that felt... undeserved.
Zane's programming emphasized efficiency, precision, and purpose. Eating was not a necessity for him; it was a diversion, a distraction from his primary functions. He was a robot, designed to perform tasks flawlessly, without the need for such human indulgences.
He couldn't shake the feeling that he was wasting valuable time. Time that could be better spent on maintenance, on improving his performance, or fulfilling his designed purpose.
“Zane, you alright?” Jay's voice broke through his reverie.
The world slowly came into focus, and as he blinked his eyes open, he found himself surrounded by the serene beauty of a dawn orange sky. The first light of day painted the clouds with a warm, golden hue, casting a tranquil glow over the landscape. He was seated on the weathered wooden deck of the monastery, with his head gently cradled in his hands. The air was filled with the gentle chirping of awakening birds and the distant sound of his friends’ conversation. He felt the peacefulness of the early morning enveloping him like a comforting embrace.
Zane turned to find Jay leaning against the doorframe, a concerned look on his face.
“Heh, you seem a little preoccupied,” Jay said, his smile tinged with nervousness as he observed the furrow in Zane’s brow and the distant look in his eyes.
Zane hesitated before responding. “I have been thinking. These feelings have been... different. And I cannot help but feel that they are unnecessary.”
Jay sat down near Zane. “But you deserve to enjoy things too. It's not just about productivity and stuff. It's about— y’know, experiencing life.” Jay looked down into his lap and fiddled with his fingers.
“I am not alive,” Zane countered. “My purpose is to protect others. To achieve that objective, it requires efficiency.”
“I get it. But you’re more than just a machine, Zane. You’re our friend. And part of being friends is sharing experiences,” Jay began to smile, “including the joy of eating food.”
Zane stared up at the sky, processing Jay's words. "It is difficult to conform this to my core programming."
"Well… then maybe it's about balance. You don't have to give up your purpose to enjoy new things. You can find a way to include both."
Zane’s circuits whirred softly. "Perhaps."
Jay beamed at him. "That's the spirit. Now, how about we try making some dessert?"
Zane nodded, a small smile forming on his lips. "I would like that."
As he watched Jay stroll over to the kitchen excitedly, Zane’s smile slowly faded. A gnawing doubt crept into his circuits. What if the feelings he experienced turned out to be unpleasant or painful?
Zane's mechanical heart, usually steady and predictable, seemed to weigh heavily within him now. He wondered if embracing these new sensations meant opening himself up to a torrent of negative emotions, emotions that could undermine his purpose and efficiency. The uncertainty was unsettling, and he questioned whether the richness of any feeling was worth the risk of experiencing pain.
As birds chirped heartily in their nests, Zane remained lost in contemplation. The allure of understanding human experiences was strong, yet the fear of potential suffering loomed large. Would the joy of tasting food, the warmth of companionship, and the thrill of new sensations outweigh the inevitable moments of distress and sorrow?
The dilemma gnawed at him, making him question the very essence of his newfound sensitivity.
He distantly thought of the plate he dropped days ago.