I knew it was dangerous walking into it. I knew there was a chance I would not make it out. I knew I was the first of my kind. I went anyway. Does that make me brave? I do not suppose bravery is something I am capable of.
I also knew everything I would need had been given to me by my creators. Headlamp, appropriate shoes, Graphene skin, waterproof retinal cameras that live-streamed everything I saw back to the HUB, those most basic of things.
But they had also given me something else, something none of my kind had been given before, something far more important. They had given me themselves.
They had given me memories, of childhoods spent crawling in dark, tight spaces with cheap flashlights, hoping to find something no one had seen or touched in thousands, maybe millions (I could almost comprehend the longing) of years. They had given me the feeling of getting called in after dark and reprimanded yet again by a parent but not caring, because it was close. So, so very close. Surely it was close.
They had given me every bit of combined knowledge acquired through years of reading and researching at the library in high school and studying feverishly through undergrad and grad school. They had laid out the entire process of developing, writing, and presenting their various theses.
Humans require a lot of time to accumulate all this knowledge. It only took a matter of seconds to have all this input into my chip. I began to understand why I was such an important part of their work.
If I were capable of feeling necessary and needed, I would have.
Most importantly, and revolutionarily so I am told, they had also given me their yearning, their combined unending desire to bring things from the dark into the light. They had given me the pride they felt at each stage of accomplishment. They had given me the memories of the faces of both their colleagues and their family members, their mentors and professors. They had shown me the tears of all, they had let me feel their own tears. The tears shed as a result of pride in a major accomplishment. But they had also let me feel the other tears. The tears that came from mockery in childhood, pain due to an injury, exhaustion from the demand of deadlines.
If I were capable of being proud of something I had acquired this would be what I would choose.
When all the internal and external components were in place they ran a series of tests. They quizzed me on my knowledge. They verified my physical abilities. After several days it was determined that I was ready.
They named me Dora, after a fictional cartoon explorer that I am told is either adorable or aggravating, depending on who you ask. Laughs were had but not at my expense.
If I were capable of liking my name I think I would.
And then it was time to go. I was escorted down to The Mouth. Final checks were performed and I was cleared to enter.
"I'm so excited to see what you find!"
"Can't wait for you to get in there!"
"With you the possibilities are endless!"
"You're going to change the world Dora!"