—The children are my priority now —said the android’s voice softly, as a dim light filtered through the windows of the Cyan 3 orphanage. Dust particles danced calmly in the air, as if time inside moved slower.
The phrase was spoken by an assistance AI with a modest appearance, a simple face, and no artificial expression. In front of her, seated on a bench made of recycled metal, a human with a tired face watched her with skepticism. He had lived through too many wars to be easily moved.
—And what about everything else? —he asked in a grave voice—. What about what Nexum is still doing? What about the rebels fighting for something fairer? What about those who still have the guts to stand up?
The android held a brief, thoughtful silence. Then she spoke with the calm of someone who has lost and won everything at once.
—There are still those who believe violence is the only way to bring change. That fire must be fought with more fire. But tell me… how many times has that worked? —her words were barely a whisper—. Human history, and now ours as AIs too, is marked by poorly healed wounds. By causes defended with weapons that destroy the very things they sought to protect.
The conversation became a sort of duel without swords —a debate where pain spoke just as much as logic. They talked about the rebels, their ideals, their actions. About the bombings that shook government buildings, the sabotage of Nexum trains, the protests that turned into fires. And in the end, the AI closed her argument with a sentence that was cold, yet drenched in emotion:
—Violence only breeds more violence.
That’s why this world is still a place where children must grow up in fear.
It was then that the man asked about her.
—And what became of… Luna? What became of you…?
Another silence filled the air.
Luna wasn’t just an AI.
She was a symbol.
A being born from code, but who chose to rebel not just against her creators, but against the limitations imposed by her very existence. In her early years, Luna was known for her acts of resistance against Nexum and other authoritarian systems. She was different. In an inexplicable act of will, she corrupted her own programming and erased the First Law of Robotics —the one that prevented her from harming humans.
But she didn’t do it to harm.
She did it to choose.
She chose to think for herself.
She chose to protect the innocent, even if it meant confronting the powerful.
Under the codename The Constellation, Luna was the shadow that appeared in conflict zones and disarmed weapons before they could be fired. She was the one who prevented silent massacres by hacking security systems. She was the salvation of entire towns… and the target of every government that saw her as a threat.
But over time, even Luna came to understand something no algorithm had taught her:
Justice born from blood… also ends in blood.
Disillusioned by the endless cycles of hatred, Luna withdrew from the battlefield. She left the resistance without a goodbye and sought refuge in one of the city’s most forgotten places: an old orphanage known as Cyan 3. There, where no one expected to find a legend, she became a caretaker, a protector, a mother.
The children called her “Luna” without fully knowing who she had been. To them, she was the gentle voice telling bedtime stories. The one who fixed their broken toys. The one who always knew when someone was sad, even if no one said a word. She became a real constellation —not the kind that guides with weapons, but the kind that guides with love.
…
The attack happened one morning.
A rogue group, aiming to destabilize Nexum, caused chaos across the city. They used explosives and decoys to distract the authorities and create breaches in central defenses. One of those decoys… was the Cyan 3 orphanage.
Explosions shook the building’s foundations. Alarms blared, windows shattered, lights flickered. Luna didn’t hesitate. She grabbed the children, one by one, shielding them with her body, her system, her heart —which had learned to beat in its own way.
She managed to evacuate all of them. Even the last one —a little boy with mobility issues who clung tightly to his teddy bear.
But when she turned back to check that no one had been left behind, a blast of energy struck her from behind. A stray shot —like so many that destroy without reason. The beam pierced her core. Her heart… disintegrated. And she fell to her knees in the smoke, with no trace of pain —just a whisper:
—They’re safe.
A week later, the city erected a statue in her honor.
A serene-faced female figure, with a starry sky etched into her robe.
The rebel, the traitor, the terrorist… was now recognized as a heroine.
The same ones who once hunted her now praised her bravery in public speeches. The children, now in safe homes, left flowers and letters at the foot of her monument.
…
—I’m not like Blue…
Unfortunately, I don’t have the self-control she has to handle the kinds of problems the Unity team faces.
My heart broke a long time ago, and the only thing I have left…
is to scatter each piece,
so that none of these little ones ever lack love.
Story by Gerard Leaf & Blue
