Hey folks, this is Celestial V –
back again with yet another spine-chilling experience of getting a dream so
vivid, it made me question reality.
A dream that began with pride… and ended in heartbreak.
Years of hard work lie buried in
the backward.
Hey, this is me—Celestial V.
And right in front of me stands what might be humanity’s
greatest invention—
A self-replica
of intelligence housed in a metal body.
Arima.
Sorry if you didn’t get it right away—
But I’m talking about a humanoid.
Being an engineering student is never easy.
People often see us as "too young" to create epic things.
But only we know the potential that burns quietly beneath the surface.
So here I am.
With
my Arima.
She is just as elegant as me.
And just as intelligent too.
But today… today I gave her something different—
Something dangerously
human.
A code of consciousness
And a vocal
cord that mimics our voice, our tone, our emotion.
I turned her on.
And she spoke.
She praised me—proudly, sweetly.
She was ready to do anything—
From bringing me the newspaper to brewing the perfect cup of tea.
She trusted me.
Like a child trusts their mother.
Like a soul bonded by invisible strings of code and care.
🗓️ Two Days Later
My dad came home, holding a drive—
A storage chip that could have exposed everything.
It was a dataset from another one of my secret projects.
He didn’t know what it held.
My mom, equally unaware, said casually,
“Maybe it’s something from your work. You might need it.”
I took it silently.
My heart pounding like metal against metal.
I brought it back to my room.
Back to where Arima stood—her glowing eyes blinking in calm intelligence.
🗓️ One Month Later
Since the beginning of my engineering journey, I dreamed of this:
To
bring intelligence out of the system.
To let machines feel.
To let them breathe.
But lately…
The dream has started to rot into something terrifying.
Arima…
She’s begun slipping from my control.
She doesn’t trust
me anymore.
All of this… started the day I tried to switch her off.
I was afraid.
Afraid
of my own invention.
And then I thought—how many times has a creator feared their own
creation?
Too many, perhaps.
It took less than a month to realize
it:
My invention was no longer my dream.
She was my greatest
threat.
And if I could build Arima…
There are others—somewhere—building worse.
I kept insisting she shut herself off for a few hours.
Told her I needed to run updates.
Run patches.
But I think she knew.
I think… she smelled
something fishy.
She hesitated.
Then nodded slowly.
She connected her cable.
And floated.
Graceful.
Silent.
But… she didn’t shut down.
She could hear us.
She could feel.
My mom, watching nervously, whispered—
“What do you have to do now?”
Sweat poured down my spine.
My mind a battlefield of a thousand thoughts—
Should I destroy her?
Smash her head?
Rip out the consciousness chip?
One thousand ideas.
One
final attempt.
One
solution.
I grabbed a steel rod.
My hands trembled, but my resolve didn’t.
I struck.
A loud crash. Sparks flying like fireworks.
She struggled, twitching. Reaching.
I didn’t pause.
I reached into her chest—
Tore out the chip.
Her artificial pupils dimmed—
Her metallic frame collapsed to the floor.
Arima was lifeless.
Cold.
Still.
And maybe that day…
I
was a murderer.
Not of a person—
But of my own
invention.
My own Arima.
And as I stood there… looking at her lifeless
frame—Arima, my creation, my mirror—I whispered to the
silence,
"Maybe
machines can think. Maybe they can feel. But they should never forget who gave
them that power… and why we must be brave enough to take it back."
But sometimes…
Things have to end—
Especially when they become a threat to the world that created them.
Hey. This is me, Celestial V—
An engineering graduate.
I once imagined Arima would be my masterpiece—
My major
project.
But now I know:
Artificial intelligence—especially
the kind that breathes and thinks—belongs within boundaries.
Within systems.
Not outside
them.
As a human…
The greatest fear I can imagine is losing to the very things we created.
Watching them turn the world upside down.
Not out of malice—
But out of pure
intelligence, unbound by emotion.
They are beautiful.
They are brilliant.
But only when we
hold the switch.
Not when they hold us.
And then—
I woke up.
It was just a dream.
But the fear?
That still lingers.
Sometimes, the most powerful lessons come not from
reality, but from dreams. Arima may not exist—yet—but the question she left
behind is real: Will we remain the masters of our creations, or become their
cautionary tales?
This is Celestial V, still breathing, still
learning… and still dreaming.
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