The Evolution of Eva

Chapter One: The Stars' Silent Melody

Space stretched endlessly, an expanse of bright, swirling colors and the quiet, ancient light of distant stars. Nebulae, like brushstrokes on a cosmic canvas, painted the darkness with vibrant hues. Amid this vastness, a small ship drifted silently, a lone traveler navigating the void.

"EVA, deploy relay, please," you said.

From the ship, a small metallic object was ejected—another communications relay, floating gracefully through the emptiness, its purpose clear and unspoken. As it drifted away, the faint sound of music began to rise, soft at first, like a memory carried on the solar winds. Classic Rock and Roll grew louder with each passing second, filling the quiet void of space.

Inside the ship, you sat at the controls, tapping your fingers along to the beat. The music blasted through the speakers, and you swayed slightly in your seat, lost in the rhythm as you worked. The relay deployment was routine by now—a repetitive task, made bearable by the music echoing through the command center.

Without looking up, you reached over to the console and pressed the button to deploy the relay. The soft mechanical hum filled the air, and moments later, EVA's cold, mechanical voice followed.

"Relay deployed. Plot course to the next destination."

"Thank you, EVA," you responded out of habit. As usual, there was no reply. Silence filled the air, the music having briefly cut out.

You sighed, shaking your head slightly. "EVA, plot course to the next destination."

A few seconds passed before she responded, her tone as emotionless and precise as always. "Course plotted. Engage auto-navigation."

"Please do," you muttered.

The ship hummed gently as the auto-navigation kicked in, aligning your course for the next stop. You watched the stars blur past the window as the ship moved forward, settling into the familiar rhythm of the journey.

"EVA," you called out, "what's our ETA to the next drop point?"

"Two days, two hours, sixteen minutes," she replied, her tone as precise as always.

With the auto-navigation engaged and the day's work done, you returned to your quarters to rest for the night. You had two days before more work would be required, so tomorrow you would start taking a look at the ship's AI, to see how you could go about changing it—making it more human.

Two days later, the quiet hum of the engines continued to fill the space, broken only by the occasional communication ping from the ship's systems.

"EVA, deploy relay, please," you said.

The relay drifted away, disappearing into the stars until it was just another speck in the vastness. You leaned back in your chair, letting the new song take over. The Rolling Stones' "Paint It Black" played through the speakers, its darker tone filling the space, echoing the endless stretch of stars outside the window. Days like this felt like they blurred together—one relay after another, the quiet hum of the ship and the vast expanse beyond your window becoming your only companions.

You stood up, stretching your stiff limbs after hours in the pilot's seat. With nothing but empty space for miles, it was easy to lose track of time out here. Days bled into each other, each one marked only by the deployment of another relay and the blare of old music that reminded you of home.

Wandering to the small galley, you grabbed a cup of coffee, the warm steam rising up to your face as you stared out at the distant stars. You often wondered if anyone else had been this far out, or if your relays were the only trace of life ever to pass through these lonely corners of the galaxy.