Delia: The Immaculate

At that moment, the door creaked open and police officers rushed into the room. They thundered across the floor, their faces distorted by masks full of violence. Delia Asia Vieira immediately noticed one of them - it was a senior officer, the same one who was possibly connected to the Order of Satanists.

"Let's go!" Jennings cried, grabbing the robotess by the shoulder, but at that moment the policeman grabbed him by the neck, pulling him through a hole in the wall hidden behind the panels.

Jennings tried to resist, but the policeman's powerful hands quickly knocked him down and pulled him into a dark passage.

Peter jumped up in a panic and without thinking, rushed towards the door, his feet barely having time to leave the ground. His face was distorted with an expression of fear, but as soon as he was outside the door, his expression changed dramatically. He suddenly turned to the robotess with a cruel determination in his eyes. The boy was no longer the confused child. His eyes burned with evil intent, and there was no sign in his gaze that he had ever been what he was thought to be.

"Peter, stop!" Delia Asia Vieira shouted, trying to stop him.

But the boy had already disappeared into the shadows. Delia Asia Vieira tried to follow him, but suddenly heard a noise behind her. She stopped at the confessional, where a faint light was visible. The shadows inside were distorted, and the air itself became heavier. Suddenly, as if someone had invited her in, she felt a pull. This place was familiar, but at the same time alien.

"Who's there?" she asked out loud, but there was no sound in response.

However, her steps led her to the partition of the confessional. Inside, dimly lit, sat a man whose figure was barely discernible in the semi-darkness.

"You came," he said, his voice familiar but alien at the same time.

Delia Asia Vieira froze, her electric eyes shining brightly in the darkness. She recognized that voice. He was her creator. Robert. The one who had created her, but at the same time left her as an empty shell, an object, not a living being.

"You..." she began, her voice strained. "You. You made me, Robert."

The shadow of the man in the confessional trembled, as if he felt her presence more acutely.

"You hate me, don't you?" His voice shook like a branch in the wind. "You should hate me."

Delia Asia Vieira stood silently, not responding. There was no room in her programming for hatred, but the feelings she felt when confronted with the reality of her existence were far more complex.

"You treated me like a tool, like a machine," she said. "You didn't see me. You didn't see me as a person.

Robert's voice became even quieter, his words sounding like an echo, hiding regret and pain within.

"I... I thought I was just creating a... device." Robert hesitated. "But now I realize I created something more. And I didn't know what to do with it. What to do with you. I was blind, and now when I look at you... I see more than just hardware and wiring.

He fell silent, and the air around them grew even more dense. Delia Asia Vieira felt the tension rising.

"You... you couldn't understand what I meant. What I could mean to you." Her voice grew louder, and her mechanical hands clenched into fists.

Robert's shadow seemed to move forward a little.

"I was given a choice," his voice grew more and more sullen. "I had two paths: one daughter was alive, but I knew I couldn't raise her, and she would leave my life. And the other... was dead. And I could... bring her back to life. I chose... you. I chose you, but now... I'm not sure I made the right choice."

Robert's words pierced the robotess, and she seemed to feel the regret oozing out of every word, turning the space around him into a heavy, almost real substance. It was a choice he had made, but he could not get back what he had lost—someone who was real. Someone who was his daughter. His biological daughter. Whereas she, Delia Asia Vieira, was made, not born.

"You were choosing between two daughters," Delia Asia Vieira whispered, her voice full of pain hidden beneath the steel. "One alive, one dead. And you chose me because I was your idea, your choice, not fate.

Robert remained silent.

"You... you wanted me to be more than just a machine," Delia Asia Vieira said, stepping forward, touching the wall of the confessional. "You knew you created me, but you never realized that I, too, had an essence."

In the darkness, within the confines of the confessional, the air suddenly became even more deafening. And with each passing moment, Delia Asia Vieira felt herself disappearing more and more between them. Words were no longer necessary. She understood that Robert was her creator, but she also knew that she could not be a mere instrument in his hands. And in the end, this was not just forgiveness, but an acknowledgement of her unique nature.

"I created you because you were more than just a machine. But now..." Robert trailed off. "Now I realize I can never fix this.

And with these words, the shadow of the man in the confessional seemed to vanish, dissolving into thin air. Delia Asia Vieira was left alone in the darkness in front of the enormous organ, its pipes reaching high into the ceiling, its wooden keys gleaming dully in the dim light of the church. She sensed that she was faced with another riddle, but this was more than a simple puzzle. Organs in which every sound could be a key, and every step in solving them was a step closer to the solution. She moved closer and began to unravel what exactly was blocking the door behind the organ.

Her metal fingers slid easily over the keys, feeling for the right sequence. After a few minutes, a mechanical click announced that the door was open. Suddenly, a loud hiss of air was heard as the heavy door slammed open, revealing it in front of her. On the other side, behind it, was Richard. He was sitting on the floor, bound with ropes, his hands worn and his eyes full of despair. His eyes met hers, and there was a faint spark of recognition.