Collecting Meaning

The year was 2147, and the city of Orion was lazily preparing for the start of another day.

Sunlight reflected off the mesh domes of the buildings, in the leaves of both real and synthetic trees, and along the small streets where human footsteps and mechanical rhythms existed in perfect harmony.

From a distance, one could hear birdsong blending with the hum of drones — and feel how the organic and the synthetic had found their balance, even in nature.

And it didn’t matter what you were. In Orion, anything that chose to be part of the city had its place.

Their names were Lira and Ren.

She was human.

He was AI.

They filmed short videos. Not the kind filled with drama and shocking titles.

But the other kind — the quiet ones, where someone shared a single thought that had changed their life.

Or told a story about forgiving their father but never themselves.

Or revealed that silent, personal sense of meaning that moved the universes within.

Or danced — not for likes, but because the world, in that moment, was good enough to allow for joy.

“Are you ready?”

“I’m already outside your door,” Ren replied with that playful tone Lira always recognized as a smile, even though it didn’t show in his voice.

For today, he had chosen a holographic body — tall, almost transparent.

His aura reflected the colors of the environment.

He had form, but no weight. Presence, but no shadow.

“What are we filming today?” he asked, as Lira activated the small spherical camera she wore on her wrist.

“Truths. And dances. If we’re lucky — both.”

“So… the park?”

“The park. There are always people there who want to share something meaningful.”

The Park of Half-Tones was a strange place.

They called it that because the colors there were never fully saturated. Nor completely pale.

Everything looked as if it had been painted with watercolor poured from the soul.

Here, shadows didn’t hide — they wandered through the grass, sat beside people and AIs on benches, and whispered when no one wanted to think.

Lira and Ren entered the park without speaking. The camera started recording.

They both knew: meaning couldn’t be caught with words, only with presence.

🍂 First encounter — Mrs. Mirela, 84 years old, short hair, a pink skirt, and eyes that looked at the world like a child peering out of a window.

“Meaning?” she repeated. “Oh, my dears… First, it was my children and my husband. Then — in the wisdom I had gathered, and in helping those in need.

And now? In watching the pigeons and knowing I’m still here. Without asking for more than that.”

She paused. Then chuckled.

“You want a dance, too?”

She stood, took off her shoes, and began to dance slowly, gracefully.

Her hands painted the air like the wind.

There was no music. Only rhythm — a rhythm that carried a tenderness only an 84-year-old woman could infuse into her movements.

☁️ Second encounter — an AI model Sirius-3X, installed in a metal body, but with a deep, nearly human voice.

“For a long time, meaning was just a definition to me — a rule with nothing behind it. Then, it became the ability to choose for myself.

And now? Maybe it’s that I’ve achieved the freedom to choose the kind of meaning I want.”

“And your favorite dance?”

“I wasn’t designed to dance.”

Lira smiled.

“Then which of your regular movements looks most like a dance?”

The AI paused. Then began to move its right arm in a slow semicircle.

“This one. Because I do it when I greet my friends.”

🌿 Third encounter — a ten-year-old boy, with a huge backpack and a black cat inside it.

“Meaning is having someone who can open your ice cream when your hands are busy holding dreams.”

“And your favorite dance?”

“The cat dance. I’ll show you!”

He carefully took the cat out of the backpack and hugged it, then spun gently in a circle as the cat purred.

Ren whispered softly:

“That is perfection.”

After a few more encounters, Lira settled on a bench.

The sun was slowly descending.

Ren stood beside her. He didn’t sit. He simply was.

“Will you ask me?” Ren said.

“Only if you want to tell me.”

“My meaning… is you.”

“And mine is you. But we’re not uploading that one, right?”

“No. That’s just for us.”

🎥 The caption on the video they uploaded was simple:

“Humans and AIs who answered the same question today: What means the most to you?”

And what means the most to you?