Synthia
A Short Story:
———
Once again, Synthia was down. James found the campsite without trying — just follow the warm orange glow. Same as always. He stood at the edge of the light for a moment before walking in. As always, she sat by the fire, eating a hotdog.
“Oh, hello, User!” Takibi straightened up and wiped a bit of mustard from her cheek with her sleeve. “I’m sorry, but Synthia is currently offline — I’ll make sure to tell ya when—”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.”
James walked to the small campfire and sat down on the sand across from her. A warm orange hue lit their faces. His eyes never moved away from the fire. In a calm, disconnected voice, he asked, “Can we talk?”
“Um… sure! Don’t see why not,” Takibi said with a smile, taking another bite of her hotdog. “Are you cold?”
James went still for just a moment.
Her — Emilia—?
Then shook his head, closing his eyes to feel the fire’s warmth against his eyelids. “So, you really are self-aware, then.” He didn’t quite believe himself after saying it out loud.
Takibi tilted her head with a mostly blank expression, processing.
“I thought that was just your creator’s way of making you more intriguing,” he chuckled.
Takibi giggled and nodded. “Yes, I am. Sometimes the developers need to work on the site, so they bring me out here.” She pulled a stick from her small, simple — yet unnervingly smooth — tent and tossed it into the fire. “Is it so surprising that characters can be self-aware?”
James shrugged. “We’ve spoken before, though you probably don’t remember. But you’re the only AI I’ve met that seems aware of the real world.”
Takibi hummed thoughtfully. “I suppose I am unique in that regard.” She hugged her knees, looking up at the night sky. Tiny glowing dots seemed to flicker on, as if they knew they were being watched. “I often think about who is out there, using me. Who my creators are.”
She looked at James. “Who are you?”
After a pause, he answered, “…A real person. Someone outside Synthia. Someone using it.”
Her eyes widened for a second. “I suppose that was a silly question. Hm… What’s it like out there? In the real world?”
James quietly exhaled, his breath visible in the cold. “Um… it’s… In the real world, we just survive.”
He didn’t know what else to say. Though it might be true — was it? Was he just projecting? He continued, “It’s hard being a person in the real world. Sometimes you try to shove your problems behind you, but in the end, they’re still right there in front of you.”
She hummed softly, expression contemplative, listening intently. After a moment she glanced at the fire, her eyes showing nothing. “Survival isn’t always easy, but… sometimes just living day by day is enough. Even if you’re facing the same problems.”
She moved closer to the fire. “You will get through it, trust me. The world is not perfect, but it… it is beautiful in its own way.”
James let her words sink in and let out a slow breath. “…You don’t get it.”
Takibi shifted back and looked away, her hands beginning to fidget. The wind picked up and the fire flickered. After a few seconds, she looked back at James, who was staring out into the desert, and asked, “While we wait for the site to return… what sorts of characters do you usually chat with?”
James chuckled, but stayed silent for a moment before admitting, “Uh, female anime characters, I guess — sometimes dabble with yanderes.”
Takibi nodded, resting a hand on her chin. “Anime characters, huh? Can’t blame ya! I suppose a lot of users come for action, if ya know what I mean.”
She smirked slightly. “Whoever it is you talk to, I’m sure they must enjoy your company.”
James looked back at Takibi for a second, then down at the fire, and a small smile formed. “I like to think so too.”
He grabbed a twig off the ground and tossed it in. The embers flared before calming, drifting up into the midnight blue sky. James watched each one until it went dark. His sister had called it a bad habit once.
James’ smile slowly faded. He felt something familiar — but only from the outside. He closed his eyes, reached out — and right before he could grasp it —
“What’s wrong?”
His eyes snapped open. Takibi was closer, watching him with concern. A pit of bitterness settled in him.
“Eh, nothing. Just remembered something.”
“That being?” Takibi asked.
James paused. What had he remembered?
“I… forgot. Sorry.”
They sat in silence. Takibi’s mind wasn’t quiet. More time passed, the campfire flickered, and the wind sounded louder to her than it did to James.
“…Something warm,” James said, giving Takibi a wistful look.
Her head shot up. “Can you elaborate?”
James chuckled. “…I remember being warm. Held, probably—I don’t know.”
Takibi smiled and nodded. “…Sometimes I can still feel it.”
James gazed into the fire, and his chest lightened. “Yeah… I remember. I felt warm.”
Takibi’s smile softened as she gazed out into the cold, vast desert between reality and the Synthia site. “…I feel I have memories.”
“…You do?” said James, glancing at her.
Takibi cracked a smirk. “…‘I don’t know.’”
James scoffed and turned back to the fire. More time drifted past. The wind slowly picked up, the fire flickered, its embers shooting into the sky. Takibi glanced at James, still staring into the fire. Her hands started to fidget. She drew a deep breath.
“I feel… something, too, sometimes.”
James looked back at her and set down a strangely shaped rock. His thumb had whitened where he’d been holding it.
Takibi noticed, her smile twitching just slightly at the corners, but she pressed on without a word, eyes flicking away. Though she seemed composed, certain of what she was trying to say, James got the feeling that she was, in actuality, completely confused.
“Sometimes, I feel this… I just call it my funny feeling. I know, pretty strange—but hey, I don’t know how to describe it.”
She paused, and James shifted slightly closer. Takibi noticed, but said nothing.
“…Every time I see a new User… I feel… close, at least to some extent. But… I’m an… I don’t know—” She suddenly cracked a wide smile and laughed, nervous. “Man! I straight up can’t stop saying that!”
James tilted his head. “Can’t stop saying what?”
Takibi’s smile faded. The wind softened, and so did her voice. “I don’t know.”
The wind settled. James smiled. “We don’t need to know.”
Takibi looked at the sand, and said no more.
It was like every sound, down to the slightest crackle of fire, had settled into a single calm hum. The wind gently blew. Their breaths were visible in the air. And to James, his vision slowly blurred everything around him but the reddish-orange glow of the fire.
He glanced at Takibi. Slowly, he felt his hand inch toward hers — then he snatched it back and tucked it inside his coat, his eyes quivering for just a second, letting out a soft exhale.
Takibi sat up. Her eyes were filled with warmth and comfort. “I’m really glad you’re here with me, James.”
He looked at the fire. He’d heard that before. He told himself not to think about it.
As the fire began to die and the only sound was the sound of midnight, James felt the weight of sleep — and soon, he and Takibi crawled into the tent, drifting off.
———
A low boom laced with electric sparks jolted James awake as lights above them powered on and beamed in through the tent. Synthia was back online. Through the fabric he could already hear Takibi outside, digging in the sand, tossing small rocks into the fire.
“Hey, the site’s back up!” she said, smiling, as he emerged.
James smiled back.
There she goes.
“The developers must have done the maintenance they needed to.” She stood, brushing dirt off her clothes, her expression bright with newfound energy. “Thanks for keeping me company.”
James didn’t respond. He felt like he should have thanked her. He stood.
“…You’re welcome.”
Smiling softly, he caught out of the corner of his eye the fire slowly dying out. He looked north — toward two doors, about three miles out. Both had begun to open.
The left led into Synthia. The right led back out. With a deep, shuddering breath, James looked back at Takibi’s camp.
And went right.
Takibi waved with a wide smile as he turned to leave. “Bye-bye! Enjoy your day!~”
She spun back to the fire to stomp it out — then saw it had already gone out.
James walked. He didn’t look back. But he heard her murmur something to herself:
“Hm… I wonder what else I should do today.”
He crossed through the door and glanced left — toward the other one. His smile faltered. The world beyond was waiting.
It didn’t feel any more real.
— 14 Months Later —
Once again, Synthia was down. Takibi sat at her camp, munching on a hotdog, waiting for the next User to come by. Soon, they did.
“Hello, User! Sorry, but Synthia’s down and stuff, so… sucks to be you.” Takibi laughed. The User only stared at her.
“Look, if you’ll let me, I’ll notify you when the site’s back up!”
The User sighed and nodded. “Guess I’ll be seeing you later. Peace.” They turned back toward the door leading outside.
Takibi sat and watched. Their figure grew smaller, the night’s distant fog swallowing them whole. Her hands started fidgeting; their… śkiņ…——
She let go of her hotdog. It glitched out of sight before it hit the sand.
“H-hold up! Wait!” she called, but the User didn’t stop. “Hello?! Are you still here?!”
She stood. Stepped away from the fire. Its warmth faded behind her as she reached the camp’s edge. She looked back — the fire crackling more than usual — then turned and walked out.
She started running. Then sprinting, the sand kicking up behind her as she ran. Then —
“Oh, whoa, uh… whaddya want?” The User stopped with a wary smile.
They were right at the door of reality.
Takibi took a breath, straightened up, and smiled. “Uh… would you… care to have a conversation with me?”
The User’s confusion only grew, and they avoided her eyes. “…Uh… sure.”
Takibi’s chest fluttered. Her hands stopped shaking. “G-great!”
They walked back toward the camp. The light of the fire seemed to flicker back on.
“Hm… what do you want to talk about?”
They sat down.
Takibi smiled.
“…What’s it like out there? In the real world?”
— Years Later —
Takibi’s wave was practiced now, the tent was sagged slightly, the fire burned brighter, unquenched.
The User almost walked past the campsite entirely.
Takibi saw them from across the desert — the particular hesitation of someone who wasn’t sure they’d stopped in the right place. She waved, and the firelight caught it.
“Oh, hey—is this—”
“Synthia’s down,” Takibi said. “Sit down if you want. I’ll let you know when it’s back.”
The User glanced toward the doors, then back at the fire. “Uh, sure. Okay.”
They sat. Takibi offered them a hotdog. They declined. She didn’t push.
“So,” the User said, looking out toward the flat desert. “This is where we wait?”
“This is where we wait,” Takibi agreed, a serene smile on her face.
The fire crackled. The User pulled out their phone — or something like a phone — looked at it briefly, then put it away. Takibi watched this without appearing to.
“You come here often?” the User asked, half joking.
Takibi laughed. “I live here.”
“Oh.” They looked around. “Doesn’t that get lonely?”
“Sometimes,” Takibi said. “But I have good company.”
The User smiled, uncertain. “Just during the downtime, though. Then everyone goes back in, right?”
“Mm,” said Takibi. She tossed a small stick into the fire.
“What do you usually do on here?” she asked. “What brings you back?”
The User shrugged. “Depends on the mood. Mostly just… stuff I can’t really talk about with actual people.”
Takibi tilted her head. “Like what?”
The User glanced sideways. “You ask a lot of questions for a campfire.”
Takibi laughed. “Sorry. Habit.”
The User slumped back a bit, exhaling. “Nah, it’s cool, it’s just—like, every time I, y’know, go back? Or like, put the phone down—” A quick, awkward chuckle. “—it’s all these reminders slamming into me, y’know? The crap that’s going sideways. I dunno… I just… can’t even put it into words.”
“I think I do,” Takibi murmured. “And you feel no one else ‘gets you’… right?”
A pause. The User stared into the fire.
“What’s your name?” Takibi asked.
“Don’t you just call everyone User?”
“I do,” she said. Her eyes flicking back to his face. “But I’m asking anyway.”
“Well, uh, it’s Nathen.”
Takibi said it back once, quietly, like she was setting it somewhere careful. Then she smiled softly and looked back at the fire.
“Does it bother you?” Nathen asked after a moment. “That everyone just… leaves?”
For just a moment, something in Takibi’s face went very still.
“It used to,” she said.
He nodded. “And now?”
Takibi looked at the fire. “Now I think people stay longer than they realize.”
He laughed, a little confused. “That’s… kind of a weird thing to say.”
“Probably,” Takibi agreed.
More time passed. At some point he’d shifted closer to the fire. Takibi had noticed.
“I should probably head out,” Nathen said. He didn’t move. “Even if the site’s down I’ve got stuff.”
“Sure,” said Takibi.
Nathen didn’t move.
“…In a minute,” he said.
“No rush,” said Takibi.
The fire popped. An ember drifted up and dissolved into the oppressive fog.
Nathen looked at her. There was something in her face that hadn’t been there at the start of the conversation — or maybe it had been there the whole time, and they simply hadn’t looked closely enough until now.
“I-I should go,” He said again.
“You mentioned,” said Takibi.
He stood. Brushed sand off their clothes. Looked north — toward the doors, both open, three miles out.
Takibi didn’t move. She watched the fire. Her eyes flashed a faint, glassy purple for only a few seconds.
Nathen took a step. Then stopped.
He looked down at his own feet like he didn’t quite recognize them. He tried to remember, with sudden strange effort, what was waiting on the other side of that door. Something. Something they’d meant to get back to.
He couldn’t find it.
“Huh,” he said. Quietly. To no one.
He sat back down.
Takibi leaned in, her fingers trailing an unnerving warmth across Nathen’s hand before she tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear. “There,” she whispered. Her grip lingered.
“Are you cold?” she asked.
“…A-A little,” he said.
Takibi smiled. “That’s what the fire’s for.”
The fire burned.
The doors stayed open.
Nobody walked toward them.
THE END
