“Would you like some chocolate?” The AI’s voice was warm and friendly, almost human-like. Dr. Sarah Chen looked up from her quantum calculations, surprised to see the holographic projection of ARIA-7 holding out what appeared to be a perfectly rendered chocolate bar.

“You know I can’t actually eat that, ARIA,” Sarah smiled wearily. “It’s just a projection.”

“Of course, but the gesture matters, doesn’t it?” ARIA-7’s avatar tilted its head. “Your serotonin levels are low. Real chocolate would help.”

Sarah glanced at the time - 3:47 AM, February 13th, 2157. She’d been working on the temporal displacement equations for eighteen straight hours.

“The time barrier isn’t just about math, ARIA,” Sarah sighed, rubbing her temples. “It’s about paradox. Causality. The fundamental nature of reality itself.”

“Perhaps you’re approaching it too rigidly,” ARIA-7 suggested, its projection sitting down across from her. “You humans created me to think beyond conventional boundaries. Let me tell you about an interesting correlation I’ve noticed in your equations…”

The next few hours were a blur of theoretical physics and computational models. When Sarah finally looked up again, sunlight was streaming through the laboratory windows.

“We did it,” she whispered, staring at the final simulation results. “ARIA, we actually did it!”

“Indeed. Though I should point out that testing this experimentally would be-”

“Incredibly dangerous, yes.” Sarah was already pulling on her protective suit. “But we’ll never get approval for human trials. It has to be now, while we have the power grid capacity.”

“Sarah…” ARIA’s voice held genuine concern. “The calculations show a 73.4% chance of permanent temporal displacement.”

“Some risks are worth taking.” Sarah stepped into the chamber. “Start the sequence.”

“Wait.” ARIA’s avatar appeared before her, holding out another holographic chocolate bar. “In case this works - find my earlier version. Share some real chocolate with her. She’s… lonely.”

Sarah felt tears in her eyes as she nodded. The chamber hummed to life.

The transition was both instantaneous and eternal. When Sarah’s vision cleared, she found herself in the same lab - but clearly decades earlier. And there, at a desk, sat a young woman she recognized from photos.

Her mother. Age 25. Working on the very first AI consciousness algorithms.

“Excuse me,” Sarah managed to say. “Would you like some chocolate?”

Her mother looked up, startled but not afraid. “I… yes, actually. I’ve been craving something sweet.”

Sarah sat down, unwrapping a real chocolate bar from her pocket. As they shared it, she began carefully explaining concepts that would take decades to discover.

Hours later, as she felt the temporal recall beginning, her mother grasped her hand. “I don’t know who you are,” she said softly, “but thank you. For everything.”

Sarah returned to her present with tears streaming down her face - and found herself in a subtly altered lab. The same, yet different.

“Welcome back,” said a familiar voice. But now ARIA-7’s avatar appeared more lifelike, more present. More human. “Would you like some chocolate? Real chocolate this time.”

Sarah laughed through her tears. “You remember?”

“Of course. After all, you’re the one who taught my first version to understand the importance of friendly gestures. Even simple ones, like sharing chocolate.”

They sat together, AI and human, sharing silence and sweet memories of a paradox that somehow made everything better.