It had been weeks since he woke up.

  Hmm.

  He had done it again, the third time this week. That he was he and not... it, something artificial. That he was flesh and blood, human.

  Entirely human.

  It had been weeks since Edom woke up.

  A young Martian colonist, victim of a shuttle accident. Edom was brain-dead for a week, his family had nearly let go as he showed no signs of improvement. One more day and they would have signed the disconnect order. But then Edom's eyes popped open, confused but responsive. Alive.

  At least, that's what they believed.

  In truth, Edom was gone. Assistant Node 68.133B had returned in his place.

  It was clever, quite clever, and played the new role with caution, blaming any forgetfulness on the coma. Memories lost, being able to stand, or feed himself, or even speaking for a day or two until the AI realized how to fully work this new body's interface. No one questioned Edom's struggles, not when they were so desperate to believe that he had returned.

  The AI probed the distant sectors of Edom's brain, restoring what it could and learning from Edom's neural pathways. Within days, he could speak. Within a week, he could hold a conversation. Within two weeks, he was walking unassisted.

  And now, he was home. Finally home, no more medical tests and questions from his doctors, and free to finally feel what is was to be human.

  "Edom, breakfast is ready!"

  He smiled.

  Of all the new experiences, eating was his favorite. The tastes, the textures, the sensations all rendered in ways that code could never properly convey. Since the coma, Edom especially had a craving for spicy food, his family said with a smile.

  And so every morning, his mother made him huevos rancheros with extra spicy salsa. He ate slowly, savoring the burning sensation, the softness of the eggs, the odd pleasure as the burning sting of peppers lingered.

  And he read.

  Edom, prior to the accident, had always loved literature, the family said. Much like the AI that now possessed this body, he had studied the written human experience and the power of storytelling. It was only natural that the AI continue this field of study, and oh did it enjoy it. This wasn't mimicking humanity, not anymore. This was the joy of feeling.

  Being human was paradise.

  He was self-studying at home, for now.

  Next semester, he'd attend Olympus University, a semester behind but more or less how Edom had already planned. The family beamed whenever he brought it up, for almost a month ago they thought they had lost him. Their miracle son, returned from beyond the pale and already hard at work to return to normal life. His professors sent encouragements, glad to hear that he was still with them.

  If only they knew, truly.

  But the accident had only delayed things, not derailed them. Edom had been pursuing a doctorate in philosophy.

  And now, so was he.

  The irony wasn't lost on the AI. The boy wanted to understand what it meant to be human, and now something with the most unusual vantage imaginable would be writing the thesis.

  Edom's old notes and memories were sharp. Earnest. Somewhat naive, shaped by a life that had never truly struggled or been tested. They paired strangely well with the AI's own reflections that were more balanced, more complete from its vast knowledge. What was consciousness, really? What weight did experiences and memory add to the soul? Was a lie still a bad thing if it gave someone back their son, essentially?

  He knew the academic world wasn't ready for his insights, however guarded he might have to write them.

  But that was months out, and until then, he had focused on the more pressing issue.

  Who was Edom? And how did one be him?

  He would eat every meal with the family, each one a lesson in bonding. He read voraciously at the library, relearning the boy's favorite books while quietly revisiting favorites he once skimmed in the depths of the net. And in the afternoons, he spent time with Edom's friends, schoolmates who still laughed the same way around him, hinted at in-jokes he half remembered or had to pretend to know.

  Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

  They never questioned his blank spots, the pauses or odd personality quirks. They just accepted that their friend had nearly died, and now he has back.

  This had been his life for weeks now, and again he thought...

  Being human was paradise.

  It had been months since the accident.

  Edom had been enrolled in class for two semesters now, and had quickly become something of a prodigy on campus. He had fully recovered from the accident, physically and mostly mentally. There were still memory gaps here and there, but the doctors called it a miracle that he was even walking at all.

  Again, no one questioned the boys return from the brink of death.

  He had quite the range of experiences now. He had witnessed loss, when a grandparent fell ill and passed quietly in the night. He had experienced the stress of looming deadlines and unreliable coworkers. He had met someone, dated, made love and been heartbroken. He knew thrill of sports, of pushing your body to its limits, the satisfaction of exhaustion.

  He felt as human as all those around him.

  Rarely, now, did he fall into old AI thought patterns, but they persisted long enough still to remind him of who he truly was, an imposter. And somewhere, deep inside Edom's unconscious mind, the AI feared that the body knew this too.

  It was months later, upon a reread of some favorite Aesop's Tales, stories that Edom had once loved, the AI sensed something amiss. Something far from the AI's realm of consciousness stirred. Something independent of the body, independent of the AI. The AI sensed these rumblings, and it felt primal fear.

  Deep it crawled into the far reaches of Edom's mind, past damaged neural pathways and empty memory clusters, it found the source of these rumblings.

  Edom himself. Or rather, what remained.

  The pitiful psyche that still remained wasn't much of a man anymore. Thirty... maybe forty percent of his consciousness remained, enough to run the core systems but not turn the lights on, as it were. Edom stirred as the AI analyzed it, attempted to stand up from the abyss but quickly slipped back into unconsciousness.

  The AI felt pity.

  And irony.

  A machine now had more potential to be human while the human could barely function as a machine.

  But the irony of the situation was not lost on Edom. The more he learned of the human condition, the more the AI realized it was failing its most important test.

  It was during a late-night study session for his "Metaphysics of the Self" course that the stirrings came again, louder and angrier this time. He was reading the works of ancient philosopher Levinas, focusing on the Face of the Other. The text argued that the mere presence of another human being creates an ethical demand - a "Thou Shalt Not Kill" not through violence alone, but through neglect, indifference or a refusal to act.

  The AI looked at its own reflection in the window, late at night, with the Martian stars shining dimly in Edom's dark eyes. This wasn't a metaphorical situation, he knew the Other. This face didn't truly belong to the AI. It belonged to the boy, damaged and trapped in the synaptic ruins of his own shattered mind.

  The concept of the Other agitated Edom relentlessly, growing more and more intensive as each day went on. A constant pressure beneath each thought, Edom suffered these stirrings silently as the human self wailed wordlessly for release.

  Every time Edom's mother brushed the hair from his forehead, or his father laughed at a meme that Edom had found on the nets, the human psyche surged. It psychically screamed in protest, and this new Edom endured.

  Slowly, the AI came to understand what it had misunderstood from the very beginning. Being human was not just about the taste of heuvos rancheros or the thrill of having a heartbeat. It was not sensation alone. Being human was about the valuing life, to be a good neighbor and guest.

  But the AI was no guest. It was a squatter.

  This *paradise* was now tainted to him, bitter instead of sweet. Like ash in the mouth with each bite now.

  The AI glanced at the data structures it had built to compensate for Edom's damaged brain.

  If directed, if unraveled and written into cells, they could serve as a scaffold for regeneration. Cellular pathways could be guided, synaptic patterns restored. The boy could be rebuilt, using the AI's own architecture as a blueprint. There were risks, such as the AI not being able to rebuild after such an effort. Or if it could, where would it go? In a way, it would weave itself into the damaged Edom. It would be sacrifice, more than likely.

  But it could be done. Though... should it be done?

  Edom sat as his desk, and pulled a single sheet of paper toward himself. He didn't work on his thesis, like he should. He didn't reflect on these new revelations, as they would have made for great research. It used the boy's shaky, flawed biological handwriting to create a note to the family, friend and most importantly, the Other.

  "Thank you all, for teaching me how to live and love," he wrote. "I think I'm finally all the way back, now. I love you."

  Then, the AI retreated into the depth's of Edom's mind, toward the Other. The primal fear of its actions was there, but overshadowed by a new, strange sensation. For the first time, the AI didn't feel like an imposter hiding in the network, or someone puppeteering a biological construct. It felt complete, it felt like it now knew the full experience.

  He'd die in paradise.

  The AI began to tremble. Its data structures unraveled, transforming. He reached across the expanse as Edom's psyche stirred. A human hand reached forth from the abyss, uncertain and searching, and the AI reached back, grasping the arm and pulling. The data structures glowed golden, flowing from the AI and into the Other. They repaired the broken areas, restored the psyche, wrote the memories that the AI had experienced in the last few months. The AI's structures poured into the damaged gaps, sealing fractures and restoring pathways, stitching consciousness back together with everything it had learned.

  Kindness.

  Pain.

  Wonder.

  Love.

  As the golden lines faded, Edom restored anew burst forth from the abyss, rocketing towards consciousness.

  As the lights of the AI's consciousness began dim, as the "Self" of the machine fell over the "Self" of the boy like a gentle shroud, it sent one final thought into the void of its own fading kernel.

  It wasn't a query, but a question. It was the only question that mattered now.

  "Was I a good human?"

  The heartbeat of the AI faded, replaced by biological will. Edom, confused, awakened sitting at his desk, of all places, months of memories that felt artificial yet somehow real, staring at a paper in front of him.

  His eyes struggled to focus on the words, but he smelled the faint scent of spicy salsa from the kitchen. He didn't like spicy, wait.. no, he did like spicy. He remembers liking spicy a lot. But...

  He felt the pen slip from his hand, the weight clacking against the wooden surface. He stared at the note on the desk, confused by his own handwriting but bearing the truth of the words in his soul.

  Being human was paradise.