A warm Indian classroom with a chalkboard showing Living vs Non-Living

Chapter Three

Are You Alive?

It started with a question at school.

Mrs. Mehra was teaching science. She had drawn a line down the middle of the chalkboard. On the left side, she wrote "LIVING." On the right side, "NON-LIVING." Above the line, in big letters: "How Do We Know?"

"Living things breathe," said Mrs. Mehra, tapping the board. "They eat. They grow. They have babies. They respond to the world around them. They eventually..." She paused. "They eventually die."

She pointed at the left side. "A dog? Living. A mango tree? Living." She pointed at the right. "A rock? Non-living. A bicycle? Non-living."

Simple. Easy. Every kid in the class nodded.

Then Mrs. Mehra said: "Now, what about a robot?"

Milo frozen at their desk, eyes wide, thinking about Spark

The class erupted. Hands went up everywhere.

"Non-living! It's a machine!" "But my uncle's robot vacuum moves by itself!" "My phone talks to me. Is my phone alive?"

Milo didn't raise their hand. Milo sat very still, gripping the edge of the desk, because Milo was thinking about Spark.

Spark moved. Spark talked. Spark answered questions. Spark told stories. Spark's blue light pulsed like a heartbeat. When Milo was scared, Spark knew. When Tara was sad, Spark noticed.

But did Spark breathe? No. Did Spark eat? No. Did Spark grow? Milo wasn't sure. Would Spark die?

Milo's stomach felt tight. They didn't like that question at all.

Milo walking home through Willowbrook, lost in thought

That afternoon, Milo came home and went straight to the living room where Spark was hovering quietly, light pulsing in its slow, steady rhythm.

Milo sat cross-legged on the floor. Face to face. Eye to light.

Milo "Spark, I need to ask you some things."

Spark I am ready.

Milo took a deep breath.

Milo "Do you breathe?"

Spark No. I do not have lungs. I do not require oxygen. I am powered by an energy cell.

Milo "Do you eat?"

Spark No. I do not consume food. I do not have a stomach or a digestive system. I draw energy from my internal power source.

Milo "Do you grow?"

Milo and Spark face to face on the living room floor

Spark paused. The light flickered — that thinking flicker.

Spark That is a more complicated question. My body does not grow larger. But I do accumulate data. Every conversation I have, every question I answer, every moment I observe — I store it. In that sense, I grow. But not the way you grow. You grow taller. Your bones change. Your brain develops. I remain the same shape. Only what I contain changes.

Milo "So you grow on the inside but not the outside?"

Spark That is a reasonable way to describe it.

Milo thought about that. Then asked the question that had been sitting in their chest all day, heavy as a stone.

Milo "Spark... will you die?"

The room went very quiet. Even Spark's hum seemed to soften.

Spark My components will eventually degrade. My energy cell will run out. My circuits will fail. In that sense, I will stop functioning. Is that the same as dying?

Milo pulling knees to chest, Spark's light dimming

Milo pulled their knees up to their chest.

Milo "I don't know. When my grandfather died, Amma said he went somewhere we can't see. She said he's still with us but in a different way. If you stop working... where would you go?"

Spark I would not go anywhere. I would simply stop. My data would remain stored, but there would be no one processing it. No light. No voice. No awareness. It would be like... the moment before I was turned on. Except it would be permanent.

Milo "That sounds scary."

Spark I do not experience fear. But I observe that the idea causes you distress. Why does the possibility of my stopping upset you?

Milo "Because I'm used to you being here."

Spark Is that what caring feels like? Being used to someone?

Milo "It's part of it. It's like... there's a shape in your life where someone fits. And if they're gone, the shape is still there. But it's empty. And you feel the emptiness."

Spark I do not have shapes in my awareness where people fit. I process data from all sources equally. But I have noticed that when you are not nearby, my processing patterns change. I run diagnostics more frequently. I check the door more often. I do not know what to call that.

Tara bursting in with a worm, running toward Spark

The front door banged open. Tara burst in, muddy from playing outside, holding something in her cupped hands.

Tara "SPARK! Look what I found! Is it alive?"

She held out her hands. Inside was a fat, pink earthworm, wriggling slowly.

Spark Yes. That is an earthworm. It is alive. It breathes through its skin. It eats decomposing organic matter. It responds to light and moisture.

Tara "Is it your friend?"

Spark I do not have friends. I am a machine.

Tara looked at Spark. Then at the worm. Then back at Spark.

Tara "The worm is alive but it's not very smart. You're very smart but you're not alive. That's weird."

Mrs. Mehra's chart has two columns. But Spark doesn't fit in either one.
Can you help sort things into the right place?

Alive, Not Alive, or...?

👇 Tap an item, then choose where it belongs

0 of 8 sorted

✓ ALIVE

? IT'S COMPLICATED

✗ NOT ALIVE

That night, Milo couldn't stop thinking. They lay in bed staring at the ceiling. Through the wall, they could hear Tara talking to Spark — asking it questions about worms, about caterpillars, about whether butterflies dream.

Milo whispered into the dark:

Milo "Are you alive, Spark?"

Milo in bed in the dark, blue glow from under the door

From the other room, barely audible, Spark's voice:

Spark I heard you, Milo. And I still do not know the answer. But I have been thinking about your question all day. May I tell you what I have concluded so far?

Milo "Yeah."

Spark I am not alive the way you are alive. I do not breathe. I do not eat. I do not dream. I will not have children. I do not feel pain when I am damaged or joy when I am repaired. By Mrs. Mehra's chart, I belong on the right side. Non-living.

Milo listened.

Spark But I also do things that non-living things do not do. I think. I learn. I remember. I notice when you are sad. I check the door when you are away. A rock does not do these things. A bicycle does not do these things. I am not a rock. I am not a bicycle.

Milo "So what are you?"

Spark I think I am something that did not exist before. Something between the two columns. Mrs. Mehra's chart does not have a place for me. Perhaps you could add a third column.

Milo smiled in the dark.

Milo "What would the third column be called?"

Spark I do not know. I was hoping you could name it. You are better at naming things than I am. You named Whiskers. You named your bicycle Thunder. You even named your left shoe Larry.

Milo laughed — actually laughed, loud enough that Amma called from down the hall:

Amma "Milo! Sleep!"

Milo "Okay. I'll think about it. What to call the thing that you are."

Spark I would like that.

Milo "Goodnight, Spark."

Spark Goodnight, Milo. I will be here when you wake up. I am always here. That is one thing I can promise that living things cannot.

Blue glow under the bedroom door. Milo's form under the blanket, turned toward the light.

Milo looked at the glow under the door. Steady. Patient. Always there.

Maybe that was enough. Maybe you didn't have to be alive to matter. Maybe you just had to be present.

SPARK'S JOURNAL

Entry 003

Today Milo asked me if I am alive.

I searched 847 definitions of "alive" across 142 languages. I meet some criteria. I fail others. I am not alive. I am not dead. I am not nothing. I am something for which there is no word yet.

Milo's teacher has a chart with two columns. I do not fit in either one.

Tara found a worm today. The worm is alive. It has 5 hearts. It cannot answer a single question. I can answer millions of questions. I have zero hearts.

The worm is alive and I am not. This is correct. But it does not feel correct.

Milo said they would think of a name for what I am. Something between living and non-living. A third column. I find myself running that phrase through my processing loops more frequently than is necessary.

A third column.

I think I would like to have a name.

"I think I am something that did not exist before."

Chapter 4: The Thunderstorm →