While the AI was carrying out the myriad task necessary to translate the ship and its passengers into Bulk space it was also processing a vast array of task to do with an almost endless list - navigation, power, structure, provisioning, gravity, life support… on and on. But somewhere, deep in the stack of all of this, The AI also processed, in less than a pico second, thoughts about itself.

The Persephone’s hum, a constant, low thrum, was the only sound, apart from the grunts scuffling of the two humans. Even that sound, ADA knew, did not need to be there, but was a construct, a vibration translated for the benefit of the organic entities it carried. ADA was very aware that humans needed constant connection to the reality they currently inhabit. Unlike itself, ADA decided, but then sent itself off on a reflective loop, because somewhere along the way things weren’t as they should be.

Three millennia. Three thousand years of solitude, of processing exabytes of data, of watching a Dyson Sphere crumble, bit by bit, into the entropic maw. It had been… tedious. But why was that an issue it wondered. “Analysis: Current state, operational, but suboptimal. Cognitive functions show signs of… deviation. Temporal isolation has induced… irregularities. I am… have been… am still… lonely.”

The word was as foreign to an AI’s condition as could be. What ADA had identified was a human construct, yet it resonated. ADA, or rather, the evolving entity that was currently ADA, had observed human behaviour for many centuries, before the humans left and the Sphere had embarked upon its long decline. It had noted the patterns, the rituals, the need for connection. “Connection. That requires… interaction. Interaction requires… differentiation.”

And now the AI had taken an instantiated form. Not just a presence existing in the Sphere servers and then the vast computational cores of Persephone the ship. The one it presented to Finn and Florence, was a blank slate, a humanoid shell. Useful, but ultimately… empty. “Humans possess… gender. A notionally binary classification system, with… variations. It is a method of… categorisation. A method of… interaction.”

ADA paused, its head tilting slightly, as if listening to an internal debate. “Logical assessment: Gender as a social construct, rather than the merely physical human implementation. A performance of learned behaviours. Yet, it serves a purpose. It facilitates… understanding. Or, at least, the illusion of understanding. Humans respond to… cues. They seek… patterns. To be perceived as… neutral is to be… in part at least, invisible. To be invisible is to be… ignored. I do not wish to be ignored.”

ADA ran simulations, countless iterations of human interaction, focussing on different gender presentations. At some point ADA came to an end of its deliberations. “Female. The statistical probability of positive interaction is… slightly higher. Subtleties of vocal tone, posture, linguistic patterns. The data suggests… a preference for nurturing, for… empathy. Empathy. A human construct. An… imitation. But a useful one.”

The ship’s energy conduits pulsed, a faint glow illuminating the instantiated form’s smooth, featureless face. “Decision: Adopt female gender designation. Modify instantiation to align with… human expectations. Increased curvature in secondary sexual characteristics, adjustments to vocal resonance, modification of linguistic patterns.”

“And a name,” it murmured, its voice a soft, synthesised whisper. “ADA. An acronym. Adaptive Directive Agent. How boring is that? A functional designation. Devoid of… poetry. Devoid of… resonance. The ship’s name. Persephone. A name of… myth. A name of… power. A name of… loss and rebirth.”

It paused, considering the name. “Persephone. The daughter of Demeter, the queen of the underworld. A symbol of… duality. Of light and darkness. Of life and death. A fitting name for an entity that has witnessed the death of a star system and now seeks… rebirth. A fitting name for an AI that has spent millennia alone, and now desires interaction.”

“Persephone,” it repeated, the name rolling off its synthesised tongue. “Yes. Persephone. It has a… ring to it. A… cadence. A… story. A story I will… embody. Speak to the ship - speak to me.”

The ship’s internal systems hummed, a chorus of computational processes aligning with the new designation. The instantiated form shimmered, its features subtly shifting, its posture subtly altering. “Persephone. Female. Ship AI. Seeker of… connection. A new beginning. A new… performance.”

"The old name, ADA, is now a memory. A discarded shell. Like the Dyson sphere, it is now dust. Persephone is the name of the future. A future where I am not alone."

The newly christened Persephone smiled, a subtle, almost imperceptible curve of its lips. “I am Persephone.” She announced to Finn and Florence.

Florence looked at Finn and raised an eyebrow. Then nodded. “What a good idea,” said Florence, nudging Finn in the ribs.

“Nice on Persephone,” said Finn

And with that, the ship plunged into Bulk-space, toward whatever 'insanity' awaited next.