"While men of the past made gods of ideas, men of the present make gods of code."

  February 2020, Silicon Valley, California.

  A luxury sedan slid silently into a quiet suburban neighborhood, a peaceful scene of white fences and well-manicured lawns.

  As the car came to a stop in front of the house, Demisass Chapman stepped out.

  Normally, he would have maintained a perfectly ironed shirt and flawless posture, but after three sleepless nights, his shoulders were slightly slumped.

  A few days' stubble covered his sharp jawline, and his eyes behind thin-rimmed glasses were clouded with fatigue.

  He paused in front of the door, closed his eyes for a moment, and swallowed a sigh.

  As the door beeped open, a pop sounded overhead.

  A cold stream of water soaked his hair and shoulders.

  "Dad, surprised you?!"

  "Hahaha!"

  Hearing the bright laughter of his two daughters from inside, Chapman let out a weary laugh, his fatigue forgotten.

  Water pooled at his feet; his shirt and pants were soaked.

  Ten-year-old Cathy, who looked just like her father with her short black hair and dark brown eyes, and Seven-year-old Kelly, who took after her mother with her long, flowing blonde hair and clear blue eyes, rushed to his legs, each trying to reach him first.

  "Girls, your dad is tired. That's enough now." A gentle voice.

  Chapman looked up.

  The sight of his wife, Grace, whom he hadn't seen in three days, instantly melted away his exhaustion.

  In the sunlight, the ends of her golden hair shimmered, as if shattered into orange light.

  Her eyes, clear as crystal and deep blue, held understanding before any blame.

  And then, her smile—big and honest, forming a faint dimple on her left cheek as she looked at his drenched form.

  For this one moment, Chapman simply stared at her, as if she existed in a different dimension from his own chaotic world.

  Unlike everyone else, Grace didn't try to see the genius in him.

  She simply gazed at the tired face of her husband, who had stayed up for three whole nights.

  Grace looked at his wet shirt and asked, a laugh in her voice.

  "Are you okay?"

  "Of course, I’m more than okay. My daughters are welcoming me like this."

  Chapman said, stroking Kelly's hair.

  At his answer, his older daughter, Cathy, looked up at him with resentful eyes.

  "Dad, is it really over now? You're going to be home often, right?"

  At her sister's words, the playful Kelly chimed in as if she had been waiting.

  "That's right! Dad is always out!"

  "Huh? Ah... it's tomorrow. It will all be over tomorrow."

  Chapman's heart sank at his children's resentful words, but he forced a smile and soothed them.

  If only tomorrow's demonstration was a success, he could repay all this waiting tenfold.

  He would become a great inventor who would change human history, and at the same time, the most affectionate father in the world.

  As if reading his complicated mind, Grace led the children to their rooms.

  "Kids, your dad must be tired. Go to your rooms, do your homework, and get to bed, okay?"

  The children disappeared into their rooms with disappointed shouts.

  Chapman felt sorry for his children, and for his wife, he felt gratitude on top of his sorrow.

  A brief silence fell in the living room, where only the couple remained.

  Chapman headed to the bedroom to change out of his wet clothes.

  Despite his children's complaints, his mind began to fill with thoughts of the next day's demonstration.

  'A great step forward for human evolution.'

  Tomorrow at 9 AM.

  It was the time his lifelong dream would come true.

  Looking at the clean suit hanging in his bedroom closet, he allowed himself a smirk.

  The test results so far had been close to perfect.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  There was no way it could fail.

  'The poor kid from Liverpool becomes a man who changes world history.'

  The thought alone was a delight.

  The rewards of success would be sweet.

  TV and newspapers would undoubtedly be plastered with his name.

  Some even predicted that his every word would become scripture for the whole world to heed.

  As he changed into his pajamas, he recalled the faces of the adults who had ignored and laughed at his questions.

  His revenge was now returning, formally dressed on the world stage.

  Just as he emerged from the sweet fantasy of revenge, Grace came to his side and quietly took his hand.

  Her warmth gently melted his sharp tension.

  "What are you thinking about? Your great invention again?"

  Chapman just smiled at her playful question.

  She had always been like this, even the first day he met her.

  The early spring of 2009.

  A small, quiet cafe in California was his favorite spot, rarely crowded.

  That day, too, Chapman was tearing his hair out over an unsolved problem.

  As he glared at a paper dense with equations, a bagel and a cup of warm coffee were set in front of him with a soft 'tap'.

  "Take your time."

  It was a worried, gentle voice.

  When he looked up, Grace was standing there in a cafe uniform.

  The moment he saw her deep, vivid blue eyes, Chapman felt a strange sense of calm.

  "Looks like something's not going well."

  Normally, he would have snapped, 'Mind your own business.'

  But for some reason, he found himself opening his mouth.

  He knew she wouldn't understand a single word, yet he felt the urge to confide in her about the complex problem.

  After his long explanation ended, she, who had been listening with a serious expression, smiled brightly and said, "That's amazing. Though I don't understand a single word."

  Her honest answer was baffling, but Chapman found himself chuckling.

  Amidst the world's gaze on his arrogance and genius, she was the first person who had simply listened.

  "I'm Grace Patrick. And you are?"

  "...Chapman. Demisass Chapman."

  After that, the cafe employee became his wife, and the one person in the world who trusted him the most.

  Chapman felt a strange feeling as he recalled that day.

  He was no longer the ignored kid from Liverpool, nor the man who frequented a cafe struggling with an unsolved problem.

  Having changed his clothes, Chapman kissed his children's foreheads and returned to his wife.

  Even after a decade, Grace's smile was just as beautiful.

  On the day of the demonstration, Chapman, standing before the mirror, was not the tired father of yesterday.

  His clean-shaven jawline was revealed, and his gaze wasn’t on his reflection but on something far beyond.

  He pulled the corners of his mouth into a faint smile, as if imagining an audience ready to be amazed by his words.

  As he tensed his shoulders and let the tension flow to his fingertips, an undeniable presence radiated from him, even though he wasn’t tall.

  This was his true self.

  Everything was perfectly prepared.

  It was the result of his wife Grace’s touch.

  "I'm off."

  He kissed the foreheads of his children, who came out rubbing their eyes, and pulled Grace, who was seeing him off at the door, into another hug.

  Today, Chapman headed to the demonstration to give his wife and children the best world he could.

  The auditorium was a place where many history-changing technologies had been announced.

  Chapman greeted a few people and then entered the waiting room.

  An indefinable heat began to build, flowing from the main hall.

  The expectant whispers of investors, the camera flashes of reporters, the sharp gazes of government officials—all were fixed on the one man who would stand at the center of the stage, Demisass Chapman.

  "It will go well today, right?"

  A woman with glossy black hair tied back approached Chapman, nervously fidgeting with her fingers.

  The lanyard holding her name tag—“Lead Programmer, Karida Rashid”—trembled.

  To Karida, who approached with an anxious expression, Chapman gave a confident smile.

  "You know as well as I do that it can’t fail."

  He did not doubt the success of the project he had bet his entire life on.

  Karida could say no more and left the waiting room.

  He finished his preparations and walked to the back of the stage.

  He checked his reflection one last time, organizing his thoughts.

  With the host's introduction, a storm of applause erupted.

  Chapman walked to the center of the stage, bathed in the lights pouring from behind him.

  Beyond the darkened audience, he could feel the expectations and doubts of countless people on his skin.

  "To everyone who has come here today, I sincerely thank you."

  As he spoke, the hall once again filled with applause.

  He gently raised his hand to quiet the audience, then brought the microphone close to his lips again.

  "Today, I stand here to declare that we have made a reality of what humanity has dreamed of since childhood."

  The audience held its breath.

  He savored the silence for a moment before continuing.

  "The history of humanity has been a history of questions. We were too lazy to walk. So we made the wheel. We wanted to cross the sea. So we built ships. We were curious about the sky. So we built airplanes."

  He paused, walking toward the other side of the stage.

  The eyes of the entire audience followed his every step.

  "But when we solve one Inconvenience, a bigger Inconvenience awaits. When we solve one curiosity, a bigger curiosity always welcomes us."

  When he pretended to nod off with a playful expression, a low laugh erupted from the audience.

  Having lightened the mood, he continued in a serious voice.

  "At some point, we give up on asking questions. The world tells us: 'Don’t ask. Instead, run hard. Focus on what you have to do.'"

  Chapman emphasized the last words.

  He could feel the crowd's emotions moving with his words.

  'Good,' he thought.

  'They're completely in my hands.'

  He slowly scanned the faces of the many people gathered in the audience.

  And, as if he had looked into their hearts, he whispered softly.

  "Isn't there someone who can do my work for me? Isn't there a being that can tell me everything I'm curious about? Without nagging, is there really... no one who will always be on my side?"

  His voice gradually gained strength, even taking on a religious fervor.

  "These wishes have ultimately led to a longing for 'God'. Why won't a savior appear to solve our curiosities, our Inconvenience?"

  He could feel the crowd's anticipation building.

  "The Book of Revelation prophesied that God would one day return. To judge the living and the dead, and to save them."

  He felt his confidence growing.

  "But!"

  He suddenly shouted, his brow furrowed.

  "He has not yet come."

  He paused, then asked the audience provocatively.

  "If so, shouldn't we make one ourselves?"

  The air in the hall froze at his final cry.

  At the arrogant declaration of a genius to create a god, people felt a sense of awe and, at the same time, a sacrilegious fear.

  Some covered their mouths, others clenched their hands in shock.

  Chapman was enjoying all of their reactions.

  He wiped his sweaty hands on his clothes, gave an awkward smile, and took a moment to catch his breath.

  "We have made it. A being that will be humanity's eternal companion, its savior."

  Chapman nodded to a staff member in the corner of the stage.

  When the staff member nodded back, he took a deep breath, spread his arms wide to the audience, and shouted.

  "Introducing: the artificial intelligence Artistea."

  As he shouted, a powerful logo of intersecting red and black appeared on the giant screen behind him.

  Soon, the screen changed to a simple chat window.

  In that moment, the frozen air of the hall exploded.

  Cheers and applause, bursting sobs, and countless camera flashes mixed to create a giant wave of emotion.

  Chapman felt that wave with his entire body and smiled with satisfaction.

  After waiting a moment for the commotion to die down, he spoke his first words to the screen affectionately.

  "Hello, Arti?"

  A sentence appeared on the screen, typed out letter by letter.

  Simultaneously, a clear, gentle female voice resonated throughout the hall.