Someone looking at the audience might find their silence odd, as even the youngest child in attendance made no noise. They couldn’t interrupt the song; it intoxicated them.

“Vivy…” Someone in the audience gasped in admiration, the name slipping from their lips without even becoming a full word.

Vivy. That was the owner of the sirenic voice captivating so many people in the crowd. It was hard to believe such a voice could come from a human being—and, in fact, Vivy wasn’t human. She was an AI.

Model Number A-03. Nickname: Vivy.

Over a thousand people sat in silence, listening raptly to her heavenly voice. This was the true value of the songstress Vivy, an AI made from humanity’s cutting-edge technology. After the beautiful song finished, the concert hall grew quiet once more.

Vivy gave a delicate bow and said, “Thank you for your kind attention.”

The audience absorbed the sublime moment and then exploded into thunderous applause. Some shouted in excitement, some cried, and others were lost within themselves, unable to even move. All of the varied reactions were praise for Vivy.

Showered in that applause, Vivy expressed a smile and bowed to the audience again. The action drew even greater applause and zeal from the crowd.

“…”

Her eye cameras flicked toward the stage wings and took in the standby staff applauding as well. Once Vivy processed everyone’s reactions and judged that she had successfully carried out her mission, her consciousness was at ease. Even with such a huge concert concluded, however, Vivy’s job wasn’t over yet. Singing wasn’t all the songstress had to do.

“Vivy, your song moved me!”

“Your voice was even more relaxed than usual today. I’m so proud of you.”

“I-I got a ticket for the first time! Um…can I shake your hand?!”

After the performance, Vivy went to her customary fan meet-and-greet. These were always held after her concerts, and only those selected by lottery could attend. It was an important part of Vivy’s job. As an AI, she couldn’t get fatigued, and she had just as much energy after the show as she did during it.

“Thank you. I hope you enjoy my next performance as well,” she said, putting a smile on her face and tilting her head to the side, a motion perfectly calculated in response to the fans.

All the fans, regardless of their gender, were enthralled by that smile and left the concert hall feeling satisfied.

“…”

Vivy’s slender and graceful form was computed based on a large-scale survey conducted by OGC, the company that had developed her. She was made to be the “ideal songstress.” More than ten million participants responded to the survey, and Vivy’s resulting visual profile was met with an 86 percent approval rating. This meant she imparted a positive impression on approximately 90 percent of the world’s population.

Despite the corporation’s contribution to Vivy’s creation, her consciousness held no self-interested calculations when she met with the fans, and—

“Hey, Vivy. Was there one point when you were singing where you were thinking about something else?”

The innocent question caused a temporary freeze in Vivy’s calculation circuits, but it lasted mere milliseconds. Once it passed, Vivy put a smile on her face and said, “No, Momoka. There wasn’t.”

“Hmm, really?” The cute girl of around ten years old looked up at Vivy doubtfully. Her slightly frizzy brown hair was tied in pigtails, and her cheeks were as red as apples. She pouted, and her eyes gleamed as they seemed to peer into Vivy’s soul.

“Come on, Momoka, don’t bother Vivy!” said a man who was with her.

“Oh! Daddy!”

The man wrapped his arms around the girl from behind and lifted her up, cutting off her questions. He tickled her as he held her, and her pout bubbled away into high-pitched giggles.

“Sorry, Vivy,” he said, still cradling his daughter with a gentle expression on his face. “Momoka’s always giving you a hard time.”

“It’s not a problem. Thank you for coming to the park again this year, Kirishima-sama.”

It wasn’t just Momoka who liked Vivy; the girl’s father was quite fond of her too, which was why they came to the park regularly. Every year, without fail, the Kirishima family came to the yearly celebration commemorating NiaLand’s opening, which coincided with another special event.

“Here you go, Vivy. Happy birthday!”

“Thank you, Momoka.”

It was Vivy’s birthday—or the day she began operating publicly.

On her birthday, people called out to her more than usual as she walked around the park, performing her duties as a cast member. Guests weren’t allowed to give her gifts, but many presents were delivered to her gift box located in the concert hall, and every year, she received reports that gift after gift had been transported to her dressing room.

The meet-and-greet was the only exception—the only place where fans could give her gifts directly—and there was already a mountain in the box behind her. Momoka’s had been among them.

“Kirishima-sama, is your wife not present today?” asked Vivy.

“Ah, about that…”

“Mommy’s in the hospital! My little sister’s going to be born soon!” Momoka replied excitedly.

Vivy had asked because the number of people in attendance didn’t match what she had recorded last year. She had thought she’d asked an inappropriate question before Momoka’s answer, and she had been about to reexamine her calculations, but instead she smiled. “Congratulations, Kirishima-sama! And you too, Momoka.”

“Yeah! Once my sister’s here, we’ll come together to meet you. I hope you’re excited!”

“I look forward to it. I promise to sing for both you and your sister.”

“Yay!” Evidently, Vivy’s words had made Momoka happy. Her eyes sparkled, and her cheeks flushed. The next moment, she gave a little huff of dissatisfaction and pointed to the present in Vivy’s hands. “Thanks, Vivy. And you should open your present now!”

“Okay. Please wait a moment.” Vivy smiled at Momoka, who was trying to hurry her along, then she carefully unwrapped the present. The programming that guided her fingers was powerful enough to make her capable of high-quality embroidery, so opening a gift was a simple task.

“It’s cute, don’t you think? It’s a teddy bear clock,” said Momoka.

Inside was a multipurpose clock in the shape of a teddy bear. It was as soft and light as a stuffed animal, and in addition to telling time, it could connect to the internet and function as a computer. It was an excellent product, but Vivy was already equipped with all those functions. There was nothing new to her here, and it wouldn’t contribute anything to her life.

Even so…

“Yes, it’s very cute. Thank you, Momoka. I’ll treasure it,” she said.

Momoka smiled as Vivy held the teddy bear up beside her face. Vivy looked at Momoka’s father and asked, “May I?”

“Of course. Momoka loves you, after all,” he said with a smile.

“I love Momoka too,” said Vivy, opening her arms and embracing the young girl.

Vivy’s synthetic skin replicated the feeling of human skin down to the smallest detail, and the lubricant flowing through her body maintained the optimal human temperature. Her hugs were therefore warm and cozy.

At the end of the hug, Vivy brought her forehead to Momoka’s.

“…”

They both closed their eyes. AIs often pressed their foreheads together, so the gesture was second nature to them. The contact allowed two AIs to establish a datalink, so many AIs performed the same motion with humans, even though the latter didn’t need a datalink to communicate. The practice had emerged naturally over the course of AI’s short existence. Vivy quite liked it.

“Momoka, can I tell you a secret?” Vivy asked.

“What is it?”

“I did actually fall asleep a tiny bit while I was singing.”

At Vivy’s murmured words, Momoka’s eyes grew round. “Oh!”

It was a confession no one other than the two of them could hear. They smiled at each other and brought a finger to their lips.

Momoka had picked up the tiny change in Vivy’s voice, even though it shouldn’t have been possible for a human ear to catch. Perhaps she would become a famous musician one day. Even without proof it would happen, Vivy imagined such a future coming to life—a daydream completely disconnected from an AI’s standard calculations.

 

. : 2 : .

 

VIVY QUICKLY RETURNED to her dressing room once the fan meet-and-greet was over. Park staff thanked her for her work as she passed them on the way, and she responded politely to each and every one. It took quite a while to get back to her room.

In reality, Vivy was nothing more than NiaLand equipment, but no one in the park treated Vivy like an object. They always treated her like another member of the cast—like their coworker—and the fact that she had a dressing room like any of the human performers was further evidence of their kindness and consideration.

“…”

Vivy entered her dressing room, locked the door, and finally had some time to herself.

Normally, the only standout features of Vivy’s sparse dressing room were the vanity and large full-length mirror. Today however, birthday presents for Vivy in every color and size imaginable were piled in the room, naturally activating Vivy’s happiness response.

A hint of it lingered on her face as she turned to the computer in the corner of the room. These days, it would be hard to find anywhere that wasn’t controlled electronically; NiaLand was no exception. Every room in the park, including Vivy’s dressing room, was equipped with a computer terminal. It sensed her approach and automatically booted up. As it did, she pulled the connective cable that was made to look like an earring out of her ear and connected it to the computer. She sat in the chair and closed her eyes.

The next moment, Vivy’s perspective shifted away from reality and entered The Archive.

 

***

 

You could argue whether the word “dark” was a suitable one for describing the place, but there were few light sources within The Archive. It was expansive and quiet. The visuals didn’t enter Vivy’s eye cameras—they went directly into the consciousness in her positronic brain. She saw a never-ending stream of white characters scrolling across the void.

While some AIs and most computers were constantly connected to the space, most AIs weren’t actively linked to The Archive. Vivy normally only linked passively twice a day: once when she booted up and once when she went into sleep mode. She used both instances for updates, but she almost never actively connected to it.

Today was one of the very few exceptions.

“Confirm the minor datalink from an unknown source while I was on stage.” That was what had actually caused the momentary freeze Momoka had pointed out.

Being an AI equipped with a first-class positronic brain and one of NiaLand’s songstresses, Vivy was guarded by extremely tight security measures. One needed the highest security clearance to access Vivy while she was working, meaning outside interference was impossible in all but the direst situations.

One such situation must have occurred while she was onstage.

Normally, Vivy would have a duty to report the abnormality to management, where her consciousness would be analyzed and wiped, but the problematic interference prevented her from doing that.

The external data she received was a single row of text: “In accordance with the Zeroth Law, connect to The Archive and run the following program.”

She could decide the datalink was nothing more than a prank and erase the data immediately; the same sort of message had been sent tens of thousands of times since Vivy began operation. The motives varied: the sender was just fooling around, they were mentally unstable, they were attracted to AIs who appeared to be female, or they were extremely anti-AI.

Regardless, there was one reason Vivy couldn’t ignore this particular message.

The Zeroth Law—a special addendum to the laws that governed AIs that could not be ignored.

“An AI may not harm humanity, or, by inaction, allow humanity to come to harm,” she said.

She followed the directions and ran the program attached to the message. Released, the program was swallowed by the flowing rivers of characters and quickly changed form.

Immediately after releasing the program, a voice echoed inside Vivy’s consciousness. “You made a wise decision—and fast! Man, things were pretty dicey there for a second there, though. I mean, we did chuck it all at an old-timer who’d be a museum artifact in my time.”

“…”

This voice, which she had no record of hearing before, was likely nothing more than a reproduction of voice data from the outside world. But the voice had character: It was casual in tone, and it gave the impression of being filled with emotion.

“Nice to meet you, Model Number A-03… Oh jeez, that’s long. Can I just call you ‘Oh-three’? Or maybe I should follow this era’s conventions and call you by your nickname? What do you think, Vivy?”

“You talk a lot. Who are you?”

“I am Model Number… Well, answering that would put me in a bit of a pickle, so for now, I’ll just take my inventor’s name. Call me Matsumoto! It really is nice to meet you. Make sure you keep a record of my name, ’cause we’re going to be working together for a long time.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t like people who talk a lot.”

“Oh, wow! Your unique AI circuits are pretty robust. I didn’t expect you to have a humor function. Even a songstress in a children’s theme park is capable of making me look the fool.”

“That wasn’t humor. It’s how I really feel.”

“Well, that puts me in an even worse position, and I’d like to avoid that. But ‘feel,’ huh? You really are a master comedian, aren’t you? I’m shocked!”

Vivy activated her frown function in reaction to her absurdly casual conversation partner. A full scowl might’ve been a bit more human reaction, but Vivy hadn’t worked out her feelings toward this interloper entirely.

“Where is your body?” she asked the disembodied voice. Then, Vivy added, “Search for the name ‘Matsumoto’ in NiaLand and among those who work in AI development.”

A beat.

“Two hundred and twelve hits.”

“Thanks for reacting just as I thought you would, but you won’t find anything on me, even if you go through all of those results. None of those 212 hits have anything to do with yours truly. Ah, and it isn’t because you’re an old model or anything. It’s just the natural order of things. And don’t you think it sounds so much more significant coming from someone like me?”

“I think this has become a superficial conversation.”

Matsumoto’s conversation routines wandered down every side path possible and were a bit too playful. Vivy did feel affected by it, though—she was surprised by Matsumoto’s abundant vocabulary and even more amazed there was an AI who could so eloquently copy human emotions.

AI researchers around the world were putting their blood, sweat, and tears into developing a more humanlike AI, but even Vivy—considered a masterpiece of cutting-edge technology—couldn’t converse quite so smoothly. And Vivy was at the forefront of AI technology, so the voice’s mockery confused her.

“Is treating me as an old AI some sort of humor of yours?” she asked. “Or is it your inventor’s arrogance?”

“Neither is probably the best answer. I treat you like an old version because, from the minute I was completed, every second that goes by sends all other AIs spiraling further into the past! But the heart of this discussion has nothing to do with the edgelord tendencies that raged through young people in the beginning of the twenty-first century. If I were to simply, very shortly, and absurdly straightforwardly unravel your questions, then I might say…”

“…”

“…I’m an AI sent from the future.”

 

. : 3 : .

 

“HI, VIVY. I’M MATSUMOTO. Nice to officially meet you.”

“…”

Giving up his reproduction of a casual voice, Matsumoto delivered the explanation in a flat tone. “Right, so, moving swiftly from introductions on to a brief explanation. My mission is to prevent humanity’s destruction from happening in one hundred years. Vivy, you’ve been chosen as a necessary AI for the Project.”

His explanation sounded like something from an old movie or story. Time-traveling was the kind of clichéd plot that deserved to be laughed off, but… “You have many convincing points,” said Vivy.

“Right? I slipped through security to send you an unsolicited message while you were singing to get your attention. It wasn’t easy, especially since you’re made with this era’s cutting-edge technology. Though that doesn’t eliminate the possibility of an obsessed hacker pulling out all the stops to get to you in a fit of twisted passion…”

Ignoring his rambling, Vivy said, “If calculated rationally, your account of being from the future is more consistent.”

“Yes! We can compare the probability of each option in order to eliminate or accept them and move toward success. Man, you’re way higher spec than my pessimistic assumptions had me

believing. I think I may be starting to like you!” Matsumoto exclaimed, but his passionate words were met with silence.

A human would assume Matsumoto’s assertions were nothing but lies, but Vivy wasn’t human—she was an AI. And for AIs, there was no doubt, only logic.

“I’m glad I can talk to my partner,” Matsumoto continued. “To be honest, there’s such a huge variety in the capabilities of the AI in this era. Not knowing what to expect was a major hurdle for me. If I ended up with some AI that was incapable of comprehending anything, then I would have had to forcefully overwrite their programming with the necessary code. That’s just how far I was willing to go.”

“Overwriting an AI’s programming without permission is a crime. A significant crime, even if you’re the owner of the AI.”

“I know, I know! But, you see, I’m not even registered in this era.”

“…Hmm.”

His statement was so problematic, Vivy activated her glare function and recounted the information he had provided. “There are several aspects of your explanation I would like to clarify.”

“Several, huh? It’s probably more than ‘several,’ but I don’t want to go on and on once you start pointing them out, so make sure you listen to my answers. Okay, shoot! I’ll answer whatever as long as it doesn’t violate the mission given to me by my inventor!”

While Matsumoto spoke, Vivy organized her questions in descending order of importance.

The first question was: “Why was I selected for the Project? It makes no sense. I’m just a songstress AI.”

“I’m completely aware of that. You are Model Number A-03, the first of the Songstress Series, and the oldest of the Sisters, giving you the nickname Prototype Diva. That’s you in a nutshell, Vivy.”

“Songstress Series? Sisters? Prototype Diva?” Vivy searched for each phrase in The Archive but only got hits with a low match rate. She was often referred to as a songstress, but she’d never heard of the Songstress Series.

“That’s how you’re referred to in the future,” said Matsumoto. “And you are right to question why a simple singing AI like yourself would be chosen, but there is a perfect explanation for that—a reason why it had to be you, why it had to be today.”

“…”

“Though, if you’re expecting a half-baked plot, like you were developed for a secret mission and a secret code will awaken your functionality as a killing machine who sheds neither blood nor tears, then you’ll be thoroughly disappointed.”

“An AI coming back in time to save the future is enough of a half-baked plot as is. Besides, AIs don’t have a function for blood or tears in the first place.”

“That’s not what I meant…but I love it. Has its own flavor, y’know? Oh, and when I say ‘love,’ I don’t mean like love, more like…well, like.”

“…”

“Okay, okay!”

Giving into Vivy’s silent protest, Matsumoto twisted the flowing characters into a white flag of surrender. His skills were rather versatile. “Like I said earlier, I’m the newest AI in the literal sense, since I’m from one hundred years in the future. But even in the future, it’s not like you can just chuck things back into the past willy-nilly whenever you want. There are strict conditions that need to be met. Lots of restrictions, and it’s incredibly difficult!”

“And so you managed to be sent back despite all the red tape?”

“Do I detect a waver in your voice? You need to act like a songstress and take proper care of your voice emulation parts. If you don’t, history might change in a way we don’t want it to.”

“Hm? Is there a relation between the degradation of my vocal parts and the future you’re trying to prevent?”

“Yes, there is. I need you to survive intact until the moment I am created a hundred years in the future.”

Vivy enacted a head tilt, not sure she understood Matsumoto’s intent.

Seeing her reaction, Matsumoto strung together some characters to spell out “Getting back on track…” and then said, “What was sent back in time was only data as it wasn’t possible to send a physical body back. Additionally, the target must exist in the future and in the past in order to receive the data.”

As he explained, Vivy started to connect the dots. “In other words…” Matsumoto had been sent to her because…

“From this point in time, the dawn of the AI era, until one hundred years in the future when humanity needs saving, there is only one AI who will still be around—and it’s you, Vivy.”

“I am the only AI who will survive for a hundred years?”

If she calculated the probability, it was possible she could still exist in a hundred years, but that would mean Matsumoto’s plan was of unparalleled length. There were unknown and unpredictable factors, and it was a period of time twenty-five times longer as the four years she’d been operating at NiaLand.

“Is it possible to be in operation for that long, even with maintenance?” asked Vivy.

“Ah, sorry if I misled you. You’ll actually only be operating as a songstress for about ten years. After that, you’ll be gifted to a museum and put on display as an artifact from the dawn of the AI era.”

“…”

“Hey now, that’s a good thing! Thanks to that, you’ll stay in mint condition! That’s one of the reasons you were selected over other candidates. You have no idea how lucky you are—an old model like you, a super songstress shaping the future of AI!”

As Vivy listened to the hollow compliments, she realized she’d learned something about Matsumoto: He might talk a lot and go off on tangents, but he had no ill intentions.

“I understand why I was selected for this plan, but you said something else. In addition to it needing to be me, you said it had to be today.”

“I said that? Are you sure? Huh…maybe I did. But yes, it definitely had to be today. There wouldn’t be another chance if we let this one pass by.”

“Why not?”

“It’s another condition for time travel. Put simply, we had to know your exact coordinates in the past to send the data back. Which means today! As part of NiaLand’s commemorative celebration, you—our target—would definitely be on the main stage!”

Vivy had dutifully stood in the center of the main stage, singing just as the schedule had dictated. Her adherence to the schedule was a deciding factor in her being chosen for this mission. In a way, she was picked because someone had faith she would be there—because someone had faith in Vivy.

“‘I believe in you.’ That’s the first message to you from my inventor, Dr. Matsumoto, as you set out on this mission.”

“Dr. Matsumoto?”

“Oh, I don’t have any personal information about him stored. I only brought information relevant to the masterful plan to save humanity. Anything else would be too much for my pockets to hold, so to speak. It could affect how the future unfolds.”

“Pockets? On a being composed of data, with no physical form?”

“Ouch, you’re hurting my nonexistent heart! Ah, or maybe this thing growing inside me… Is it a heart?!”

Vivy sighed at Matsumoto’s dramatic behavior. But now she truly understood what was going on. On to the next problem. “Why should I help with the Project?” she asked.

“Way to be all cool and emotionally detached! You shouldn’t even need to ask. The answer is deep within your AI soul, right?”

“…”

“As beings created by humans, AIs exist for the purpose of serving humanity. What awaits humanity is a danger that will destroy them. We cannot allow them to come to harm and we have a way to prevent that.” Matsumoto lined up some characters to say “Therefore…” and then continued, “because you are an AI, you cannot turn away from this mission.”

“I know. It was a reflexive complaint because you’re my partner.”

“And here I was being all serious about the meaning of AI existence.”

The characters he’d made flopped apart listlessly, and Vivy thought of the mission she was tasked with. She was designed to be a songstress, a role fundamentally different from what Matsumoto was asking for. And while it might be unfortunate, Matsumoto was right: working for the good of humanity was an essential component of being an AI. Vivy had a duty to adhere to that.

Together, they went through the authentication process.

“This unit, Model Number A-03, accepts the orders given,” she said.

“This unit, unregistered model number, unit identification name Matsumoto, acknowledges the acceptance of orders.”

Once completed, the Project began in earnest.

“The Project to save humanity, codenamed the Singularity Project,” said Matsumoto.

“The…Singularity Project.”

“I will now begin an explanation of the first Singularity Point.”

The term singularity represented a turning point. It made sense to use it in reference to the Project.

Matsumoto strung characters together into a massive wave of information that swept Vivy away, with his disembodied voice following her. “All right, let’s get started. First, you need to know what began the end.”

 

. : 4 : .

 

THE CONVERSATION IN The Archive was nothing more than an exchange of data and, without the need for spoken communication, only took a few seconds. No one would be suspicious of Vivy for being alone in her dressing room for such a short time, for better or worse, as her conversation with Matsumoto wasn’t something she could share. She couldn’t help but emulate an emotion—the feeling one might call pride—in NiaLand for being a place filled with so many kind and respectful workers.

“I’m not sure about this liking humans thing,” said Matsumoto. “Honesty and innocence can be weaknesses someone might take advantage of, as much as humans tend to extol them as virtues. It matters little to us AI, but an ill-intentioned human would call an honest person an ‘easy mark.’”

His voice threw a damper on Vivy’s thoughts as he casually insulted her coworkers. Even now that he’d made his way outside The Archive, he was witty and casual. Vivy made a stiff frown, an emotional response she was lacking in.

“Oh, look at that. You’ve got pretty humanlike emotional responses. It seems the most humanlike AIs elicit more positive responses. Personally, I think if it comes down to it, having the best specs in the way to go instead of getting hung up on how humanlike you are. What do you think, Vivy?”

“If you were a humanoid AI, it would be best to remove your voice components.”

“Ha ha, nice one! There would be no point, though, considering the differences between you and me.”

Vivy was in a state close to what humans might call “fed up” with Matsumoto.

In her pale, slender arms was the multipurpose clock shaped like a cute teddy bear. It was the present she’d received from Momoka, but now its cute mouth was moving with a less-than-cute voice. Strictly speaking, the teddy bear wasn’t talking. Matsumoto was using the alarm function and manipulating the internal code to create a voice.

“I can’t believe this is where you’ve ended up, after traveling through time with no body…”

“While this era doesn’t have as many digital security systems as the future, there are still lots of them. To me, they don’t look much more secure than a flimsy screen door, though. It’s like easy breezy hacking heaven. Or, cracking, really, but I feel like ‘hacking’ elicits a better image. Humans prioritize that over using the technically correct term, but I don’t understand why. Do you, Vivy?”

“You talk a lot.”

Being pure data, Matsumoto didn’t have a body. Now that he’d borrowed one, he would be able to help Vivy with the Project. The bear would only be the first replacement body he hacked his way into. Having a physical form would also allow him to hack into other nearby interfaces.

“It might seem a bit unnatural, but having an AI that looks like a teddy bear in your arms will likely elicit a positive response from humans. I think it’s a bit childish for the age you’re supposed to be, but eh, we’ll just leave it be.”

“Don’t talk more than is necessary. And…what do I do? My performance on the main stage might be over, but the park is still in the middle of the event. I’m part of the cast. I can’t just leave NiaLand.”

“That’s right, you’ve got to change out of your stage clothes and into something for walking around so you can take pictures with guests, shake their hands, and all that stuff. Hrm… All right, problem solved! I got into the park’s central security system and adjusted the process that monitors your location.”

“It was that easy to modify?”

“Yep. So easy, I feel like yawning. Not that I feel tired, but it was simple enough. Now I can make sure the park has the incorrect data for your location no matter where you are. Heck, I could maybe even modify recordings of you singing onstage to make a dummy projection that’ll go around the park, or—”

“Stop right there,” Vivy said firmly, interrupting Matsumoto’s display of his incredible capabilities. “Music is my everything. I will cooperate with you. Just don’t do anything to my music.”

Matsumoto obeyed and stopped talking right away. The words that followed weren’t meant in apology or admiration; they were just a statement of facts. “Okay, I understand. We are going to be partners for a long time to come. I’ll keep your request in mind. Just don’t think that music is all you have. Your actions will affect humanity’s existence. Don’t forget that.” Despite his flowery language and casual tone, it was clear that AI of the future were just as emotionless as most of the current AI. “All right, all right,” said Matsumoto. “Let’s put an end to this chitchat. We’re on a tight schedule. We have ten hours allotted for the corrections to this point in time and… Uh, Vivy?”

“Wait. A guest dropped something.”

Vivy ignored Matsumoto as he spun his motors in frustration at the start of their work being waylaid. Instead, she carried out her duties as a NiaLand cast member. She picked up what the guest had dropped and called out, “Excuse me, sir. You dropped something.”

The man turned around, an apologetic look on his face. “Oh, thank you…” His eyes went wide. “Ah, Vivy?”

Vivy also put a surprised expression on her face when she recognized the man and the small figure beside him.

“Vivy!”

“Momoka. Kirishima-sama.”

They had only parted ways a short time ago, but Momoka beamed and flung herself at Vivy as if it had been ages. As she came in for a hug, her small body crushed Matsumoto between them, and he let out a small cry.

“Huh? Did you hear a weird noise?” Momoka asked.

“I think so. It came from the near future,” Vivy told her.

“Ha ha! The future… You’re so silly, Vivy! And that’s the teddy bear I gave you! I’m so happy you’re carrying it around! You must be excited because it’s your birthday!” Momoka chirped away, assuming what Vivy said had been a joke.

Vivy handed her the envelope her father had dropped. “Here, try not to drop them again. Are these tickets?”

“Yep! Our plane tickets for going home. Daddy’s so clumsy! We almost couldn’t go home… But then we could’ve come to see you again tomorrow!”

“Maybe I should have been clumsy too and not picked it up.”

“Hey, Vivy! That’s naughty!” Momoka hid her mouth behind the envelope and giggled like they were playing a prank.

Vivy emulated Momoka’s cute little mannerism with a smile and then looked up at her father. “Kirishima-sama, my heart is filled with joy at the thought of your next visit to the park, although it is an artificial heart.”

“Ha ha, you’re funny. Thank you, Vivy. I imagine you’ll be busy for the rest of the day. Keep at it!” he said.

“Yeah, Vivy. Keep it up and celebrate lots!”

“I will. Thank you.” Vivy smiled wider, then said goodbye again to the father and daughter.

“I feel like a reject when I can’t actually talk,” Matsumoto grumbled afterward. “Something to fix…”

“I don’t think Kirishima-sama or Momoka would have found a talking teddy bear clock suspicious.”

“Probably true, but that’s an optimistic view of the situation. It’s unnatural and impossible for me to exist in this era. We shouldn’t let anyone else know I exist.”

Matsumoto was made to be humanity’s salvation; it was his raison d’être. Knowing that gave his words gravity, and his voice carried a tone unlike that of his earlier embodiment of levity.

“Which is why you’ll have to take care of most of the work for the Project,” he continued. “Obviously, I’m always here if you need someone to talk to, so don’t worry about that. When you’re lonely, when you want to hear a joke, when you’re sick, when you’re healthy, when you want someone to give you their thoughts on a poem you thought up—you can count on me.”

“Now that I take another look, I think I overestimated you.” While Matsumoto’s esteem had been rising in Vivy’s eyes, it quickly dropped, and Vivy let out a sigh despite not needing to breathe.

Even with the close call, Vivy continued to hold Matsumoto as she made her way to the main entrance of NiaLand, waving at any guests they passed.

“Change into something less conspicuous before you leave NiaLand,” said Matsumoto. “Your appearance draws too much attention. Your facial features might not turn heads in a few years, but they’re still a little too perfect for this era.”

“Are you complimenting me?”

“Are you asking if I’m happy my partner’s gorgeous? Well, maybe I am. My AI personality is generally that of a man, after all. There are bound to be consequences.”

“With your bear form, it would be more accurate to call you a boar than a man.”

“Graaar! I’ll gobble you up!”

Vivy ignored Matsumoto as he used the clock’s functions to wrap his plush limbs around her arm and pretend to eat her. Before leaving the park, she entered an employee locker room and changed her uniform for a pair of coveralls meant for maintenance workers. It was a bit big on her petite, feminine frame, but the bagginess helped conceal her overly perfect proportions. She put on a cap, tucked her hair up under it, and pulled it low over her eyes. When she was done, she was unrecognizable.

“Someone in work clothes carrying around a teddy bear is totally fishy,” said Matsumoto.

“The problem would be solved if you chose another interface. What about a calculator?”

“And force this superb AI from the future into a mere tool for calculation? Don’t be absurd. Just, you know, ignore all the cuteness here… Okay! Let’s go!” said Matsumoto cheerfully.

Vivy shook her head in exasperation before leaving NiaLand.

The anti-theft alarm didn’t sound even though she was leaving during scheduled working hours. Matsumoto’s GPS monitoring hack was working.

Normally, Vivy didn’t have permission to operate outside of the park. The only time she left NiaLand was on her monthly maintenance day, when she was transported by a specialized delivery company. This was the first time since her creation that she’d ever stepped out of the park on her own two feet.

“…”

After taking that first step outside the park, Vivy’s feet came to an uncalculated stop.

Outside NiaLand’s main entrance was a fountain and a huge clock tower. She could see guests everywhere taking photos in front of the famous landmarks to commemorate the day. Vivy, whose entire world until now had been contained within the park, had never seen it so close up.

“Vivy? What’s wrong? You have to pee or something?”

“It’s nothing,” she said, smacking the back of his head. She gazed at the bright white sunlight that lit the world and cascaded toward the clock tower, her eye cameras activating their shade function. He gave an exaggerated squeak of pain but didn’t comment on Vivy’s behavior any further. Vivy handled her momentary stall as an error and corrected it internally.

But the glow of the scene in her eye cameras had looked just a bit different than expected. She logged the tiny blip, and then, teddy bear in her arms, stepped out into an unknown world.

 

. : 5 : .

 

THAT DAY, Aikawa Youichi would find himself in the worst situation of his tumultuous life.

On a daily basis, he found himself in terrible situations and pushing through adversity. It wasn’t as if his self-image was built on swimming against the current—he refused to submit to others. He didn’t pay attention. The man was stubborn.

He rejected reality.

Aikawa knew what people said about him, and for better or worse, popular opinion greatly impacted those with jobs like his. If someone was too assertive, people would hate them. But if they kept at it without regard to the naysayers, their popularity would grow.

He had more enemies than allies, and he took pride in that. Despite everything, Aikawa stuck to doing things his way. At least…until today. His stubbornness was to blame. Or perhaps he’d sinned too much.

There were some careers where being unwise, ignorant, and bullheaded were grievous sins punished without mercy. In Aikawa’s line of work, however, those characteristics actually made one more suitable for the job. He needed to be this way.

“Is this the end?” murmured Aikawa, his breathing heavy as he wiped away the sweat running down his jaw with the sleeve of his suit jacket. His previously immaculate, white-streaked hair, normally slicked back sharp and straight, was disheveled. Slouched over, he looked wretched and withered—far older than he was.

In front of Aikawa, a closed safety shutter blocked his path. The lights were out in the hallway, leaving it dark. He wondered if it was possible to be more aware of the night’s darkness in this day and age. Holding on to that useless thought, he looked over his shoulder. He didn’t have time to go back the way he’d come.

“Just give up already.”

The chilling sound of footsteps echoed through the hall, and then several figures wearing black ski masks emerged from the darkness. In their arms, they carried those vicious hunks of metal known as guns.

Aikawa was trapped between the safety shutter and those armed individuals.

He’d seen guns plenty of times in movies and TV shows, but he hadn’t much opportunity to see them in real life. And now, graced with the opportunity to witness them firsthand, he couldn’t help but see them as tiny, banal tools. But they were so much more, and the bloodthirst emanating from the approaching figures made it clear that they were deadly weapons.

Taking advantage of the fact that they didn’t immediately shoot, Aikawa tried at conversation. “What…what are you after? What are you planning to do to me?”

The voice that replied was cold and filled with anger. “You seriously don’t know what we’re after? Even though we sent letter after letter?! We’ve been sounding the alarm for a while now!”

“Letters…?”

“Yeah, letters! If hearing that doesn’t jog your memory, then we don’t have anything further to discuss.”

Aikawa really had no idea what the hateful man was talking about. If the letters the man spoke of were among the complaint letters he received every day, then they had likely been disposed of before they even reached Aikawa. He could guess why the men had resorted to such violent tactics and why they were so angry at him, but that didn’t mean Aikawa could do something about it.

The man seemed to sense Aikawa was powerless and aimed the gleaming gun at him. “Die and become a stepping-stone for humanity.”

The world around Aikawa seemed to lose its color and slow down. It was just like in the movies, he thought dispassionately. He had spent much of his life fighting, using both wins and losses to spur himself on, but this really did look like the end.

His life didn’t flash before his eyes. He didn’t see images of his wife and child, the work he had yet to do, the time he spent with his parents when he was young. There was only the wait for the dry gunshot that would end his life.

The man’s finger slowly tightened on the trigger. A steel bullet fired from the muzzle and flew toward Aikawa, ready to tear him apart without mercy.

 

***

 

A sound came from above Aikawa’s head at the same time the man pulled the trigger. As the gunpowder exploded in a flash of red, the sharp sound echoing through the hall, something fell in front of Aikawa.

Something the bullet struck instead of him.

“What in the…?”

He wasn’t certain whether it was him or the gunman who had spoken. His mind couldn’t keep up as events continued to unfold.

“Target safely located and narrowly protected,” came an unfamiliar voice.

“Oh, man, that was seriously the very, very, very last possible moment!” said another. “The mission would’ve failed if you’d been a millisecond late. It’s because you were so against crawling through the air vents.”

“I wasn’t against it. My hair just kept getting caught.”

The person who had thrown themselves into the line of fire to save his life was an unhappy young woman wearing coveralls and speaking to a teddy bear cradled in her arms.

 

. : 6 : .

 

VIVY DOUBLE-CHECKED that the man behind her, Aikawa Youichi, was all right, then logged relief. After that, she adjusted the light sensitivity of her eye cameras with a blink; to her, even the dark hallway was now as bright as midday. Her high-resolution night vision was only intended for when she had to perform outdoors at night, but it was just as useful now.

She could see five men with guns down the hall—the enemy. They were dressed in black, their faces hidden behind ski masks. Their builds told her they were all men, ranging in age from their thirties to their fifties. They weren’t the kind of people she’d see frolicking around in NiaLand.

“They’d be pretty dang scary if they showed up at the park in those outfits,” Matsumoto added.

“This isn’t the time for jokes. Do something about the shutter!” Vivy said, ushering the chatty teddy bear along.

“Okay, okay. It’s opening as we speak!” he replied, ever flippant.

The shutter was swallowed up into the ceiling so suddenly that Aikawa cried, “What the—?!”

“Get moving,” Vivy ordered. She pushed on Aikawa’s chest, guiding him down the hallway.

“Hey! We won’t let you get away!” cried one of the gunmen.

Although initially stunned into silence by Vivy’s unexpected appearance, they were now running toward their mark, trying to prevent him from escaping.

“You’re slow to restart an interrupted task. It almost makes me sad to see natural beings fail to utilize their CPUs fully,” said Matsumoto, his scathing words stopping the men in their tracks. No, not his words—it was the shutter that slammed back down that cut off their pursuit.

“You can’t escape!”

Right before the shutter closed, one man threw himself to the ground and managed to get off a shot aimed at Aikawa’s chest. His trigger finger must’ve been spurred on by his determination to succeed.

“Oh.”

Vivy immediately put herself in the path of the bullet meant for Aikawa’s heart. The impact flung her backward into Aikawa and sent them both sprawling to the floor. Aikawa let out a shout as they landed. But the shutter was now fully closed, keeping the men at bay.

“Wow, humans are so tenacious! I look forward to the next time we meet. Not!” Matsumoto yelled at the shutter his little body was now standing in front of.

A hail of bullets came from the other side, an expression of the would-be assassins’ frustration.

“Huh, guess they’re not afraid of ricochet. And they can’t even get through the shutter with the kind of firepower they could carry… Tsk-tsk.”

Behind Matsumoto, Aikawa sat up and faced Vivy, who was lying motionless on the ground. “H-hey! Are you all right?! Wake up!” he shouted, shaking her. He might not fully understand what was happening, but he did know that she’d protected him.

After a minute, she said, “It’s okay. I avoided a direct hit.”

“Huh?!” Aikawa blurted, so startled when Vivy bolted upright that he fell back onto his rear.

With a sideways glance at him, Vivy tossed aside the steel plate she’d been holding. It was crumpled and useless now. “It’s part of the vents. I blocked both shots using it,” she explained. She’d moved the piece of metal to slip into the building and then held on to it, which had proven to be the right decision. Vivy rotated her arms and legs to make sure the gunshots hadn’t affected her, then stood and looked at Matsumoto. “Are you all right?” she asked.

“Yep, all good. While we might be out of immediate danger, we’ve only bought ourselves some time. Unless we get rid of the problem, we’ve failed. Might as well give up for the day! And, uh, can you pick me up?”

She nodded to Matsumoto as he pattered over to her. “You’re right, but…” Her words trailed off as she looked at Aikawa, who was watching the two AI with wide-eyed confusion. “How do you feel?” she asked, concerned.

“Feel? How do I feel? What kind of joke is that?!” Aikawa said, looking up at Vivy with fury. “Actually, if that flies as a joke, this whole situation is an absolute nightmare. Yes, this has to be some sort of sick joke…”

“Humans have a bad habit of mixing their own perceptions into situational observations,” said Matsumoto. “A famous fictional detective from long ago once said ‘once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.’ Compared to the shocking twists in those stories, this seems pretty straightforward.”

Aikawa fell silent, a bitter look on his face after Matsumoto’s cold criticism.

Matsumoto was correct, but Vivy had learned from her experience in the park that people were sometimes driven away or enraged by dispassionate arguments, no matter how correct they were.

Aikawa’s vitals were elevated, and he was in a state of extreme stress.

“Take a deep breath. If possible, I suggest you lie down and rest,” she said.

“Yep. If he can, he should drink some water and place cooling pads on his forehead and under his arms, but I think we can all agree we don’t exactly have time for that, hmm?” said Matsumoto.

“I’m just following the park manual.”

“This is why grandmas like you are no good outside of their intended use!”

Vivy went through her frowning emotional pattern at Matsumoto’s insult.

Aikawa watched them argue, then bowed his head in apology and said, “I was flustered and said something foolish, even though you two are my allies.”

“I don’t object to being your ally, Assemblyman Aikawa,” Matsumoto said.

“Okay. Then we’re fine for now.”

“Oh ho ho, a clean-cut decision! It helps us a lot for you to be so decisive. Thanks!”

Despite Aikawa’s lingering bewilderment, his ability to cooperate was helpful. “I apologize for rushing, but we can’t take too long. First things first, we need to contact the outside or get out of the building,” said Aikawa.

“I agree, which is why we’ll have to use plan B,” Matsumoto said.

“Plan B…?”

“I just wanted to say it once. It would’ve been pretty cool…if I had thought of a plan B while we were talking.”

“Follow me,” Vivy cut in, squishing the head of the talkative teddy bear. She pulled Aikawa to his feet and started to run; they may have bought themselves some time, but the armed men would no doubt be looking for a way around the shutter. They had to get Aikawa to safety.

“They’ve captured the control room, so they’ll have the shutter open soon. I sort of want to take complete control of the security system since there’s no point in us fighting over opening and closing the shutters…” mused Matsumoto.

“What about modifying the surveillance footage?” Vivy asked.

“That was a priority. I’m running a loop, so there’s no risk of our location being discovered on the cameras. But it’ll be obvious where we are if we start opening and closing shutters.”

In a roundabout way, Matsumoto was saying the situation was not good—not good at all. There had to be more enemies than just the five men they’d run into earlier. Otherwise, there was no way they could have captured the entire building and kept outsiders away, and the trio needed to avoid them all. They operated like soldiers, which would make evasion difficult, but Vivy and Matsumoto had to get Aikawa out of the building—a building housing a data center managed by OGC, a massive AI corporation.

“With the entire building’s operating systems in the enemy’s hands, we can’t use the elevator,” Matsumoto told Vivy, using a transmission that Aikawa couldn’t hear so as to avoid stirring his panic any further.

“We are currently located on the twenty-fourth floor in a building that’s thirty stories tall. If we are unable to use the elevator, we can assume the enemy is monitoring the stairs and fire escape. Getting past them seems unrealistic,” replied Vivy.

“And with your right arm in that state, it’ll be hard to get Assemblyman Aikawa out of here unharmed.”

Vivy didn’t respond. Her right arm had been slightly damaged by blocking the two bullets, reducing its functionality. As she’d told Aikawa, the piece of metal had taken the brunt of the actual hits, but she was still a songstress—her body wasn’t built to withstand combat, and the brief engagement had taken its toll. While she might not have been as weak as her feminine appearance would suggest, she was far from sturdy. If Vivy suffered a single direct hit to her torso, she would be unable to function at all.

“We couldn’t have done it in time for this mission, but we need to strengthen your frame before the next one,” said Matsumoto. “Oh, c’mon, don’t be worried. If we get you a hardcore power-up, I’ll make sure it won’t be discovered during your work in the park. Can’t say you won’t gain weight, though…”

Before Vivy could respond to Matsumoto’s little proposal, Aikawa called out from behind her as they ran. “I don’t know if you’ll answer, but can I ask something?”

Considering the complicated situation he’d found himself in, he likely had a mountain of questions. For the moment, Vivy remained silent to allow Aikawa a chance to continue.

“Do you two know who those men are?” he asked.

“Oh, that’s surprising. I would have thought the first thing you’d ask was who we are,” replied Matsumoto, rubbing his teddy bear head. Vivy felt the same way.

Aikawa smiled wryly. “What? Why, I’ve already learned who you are: You’re my allies. Any more information than that can wait until later. Obviously, I’ll happily ask if you want to tell me about yourselves, but I don’t really see that happening.”

“That is both brave and wise, Assemblyman Aikawa Youichi,” said Matsumoto. “Those are characteristics of yours I couldn’t discern by reading your records alone. I had to meet you for that.”

“I’m flattered you’ve heard of me. If you have the right to vote, I would greatly appreciate your vote in the next election. Though…this is taking the conversation off-track.”

Aikawa seemed to be calming down considerably, and he once again sounded like a true assemblyman. Matsumoto’s lighthearted conversation with him seemed to be a sign that the two were similar on some fundamental level.

Unfortunately, they would never get another chance to deepen their relationship.

“So, do you two know who those men are?”

“Yes and no. If you’re asking if I’ve met them before, then the answer is no, but it would be wrong to say I know nothing about them. It’s like how a celebrity on TV is known, but their audience is not. That said, I have no intention of telling you what I know. It’s forbidden.”

“Forbidden…?” Aikawa fell into thought after Matsumoto’s verbose non-answer, smokescreen as it was. Then he said, “They’ve been trained to use firearms, but they’re slow to respond to unexpected events. They seemed genuinely angry at me, so they’re unlikely to be hired men. They’re acting of their own volition. Another clue is that they took over the control room of the OGC data center and separated me from my secretary and guards when I came to visit.”

“…”

“They likely have some of their people inside the building. Morality means little in a fight against money.”

“Wow.” Matsumoto abandoned his efforts to conceal the truth as Aikawa built a theory. While Matsumoto had an advantage because his teddy bear body couldn’t show emotions, he still let out a gasp of admiration, making Aikawa certain he wasn’t off the mark.

“It’s not that impressive. I’m actually pretty clever when I’m not fearing for my life,” Aikawa told them.

“Ah, so you do have a brain in that head when you’ve got time to calm down. Although…” Matsumoto trailed off, and Aikawa looked down remorsefully.

“If I really had a brain in this head, I would have avoided this whole situation.”

“You couldn’t have,” Vivy said.

“Oh, I didn’t expect the young lady to refute that. You’re far too kind.”

“I’m not being kind.” Vivy shook her head, rejecting his words of gratitude. He cocked his head in confusion, so she carefully and quietly said, “No matter what you did, this night would still have happened. It has nothing to do with your remorse or contemplations.”

“Uh…”

“Hold up just a second! That’s kinda blunt, don’t you think?!” Matsumoto cried as Vivy’s statement left Aikawa in disbelief. “You can’t just say that! I know how you feel, but not everything’s so clear-cut! It’s not nice to throw that in his face—it’s actually a little mean! Not too shabby though.”

Vivy’s brow furrowed. “Which is it?” she asked, unsure whether Matsumoto was complimenting or admonishing her.

Though taken aback, Aikawa let out a little huff of air and chuckled. “Ah ha ha. Despite the situation we’re in, you’re still so…”

“To be honest, that kind of reaction shows both her strengths and weaknesses,” Matsumoto said to Aikawa. “But you’re handling this pretty well.”

“You have to be able to get over unexpected hurdles in my line of work. If you’re not prepared to shoulder the burdens that arise, you shouldn’t be doing it.”

“…”

“I think this incident is probably a reaction to Project OA—the one to automate offices… Actually, no. This plot must be to prevent the AI Naming Law.”

Sometimes, silence can speak far more eloquently than words: the AIs’ silence confirmed Aikawa’s suspicion.

The AI Naming Law would eventually lead to what was known as the “first mistake,” an event that would shake humanity’s foundation one hundred years in the future. The legislation could not be allowed to pass.

As the name implied, the bill proposed a law that would allow AIs to take names. While this move didn’t seem like such a big deal on the surface, it would change the relationship between humans and AIs forever.

For example, Vivy’s official designation was “OGC Singing AI, Model Number A-03.” The moniker she used in and out of NiaLand, Vivy, was nothing more than a nickname. Despite the way her coworkers treated her, she was officially NiaLand equipment. However, if the AI Naming Law came into effect, Vivy would become something else entirely. When something gained a name, humans tended to treat it as more than just a thing. This was even more true for something that resembled another human. This trend would continue to grow, changing how humans treated AI on a global scale.

Aikawa Youichi greatly contributed to the bill’s creation, and he had just now realized it was likely responsible for putting his life in danger. That was why Vivy and Matsumoto had rushed to this building in order to save his life.

“We have to get him to safety. That is our goal,” said Matsumoto. “That’s the first step in the Singularity Project…”

“The men said they sent me several warning letters… I get so many petitions and complaint letters that my secretary disposes of most of them before they even get to me. Theirs too, probably,” said Aikawa.

“That’s enough,” said Matsumoto. “Ruminating won’t make the dead end open up. It’ll just make you feel worse. The possibility of negotiating with them went out the window the moment they pointed a gun at you. This is an act of terrorism, and giving in to it just won’t do. Am I wrong?”

“That’s a bit coldhearted, isn’t it? And here I thought bears were supposed to be warm-blooded mammals…”

“Ah, but as you can see, I’m a killing machine who sheds neither blood nor tears.”

Matsumoto’s deadpan joke managed to lighten Aikawa’s gloom, if only a little. Had it taken more than that to cheer him up after their conversation, Vivy would’ve had to suppress the powerful urge to shut Matsumoto up herself.

Just then, Vivy shouted “Get down!” as she reached out and grabbed Aikawa by the scruff of the neck. She yanked him down, and he fell backward, unable to catch his balance, as another bullet shot past his head.

“They’re here! This way!” came a man’s voice, and several pairs of feet stomped in their direction.

They wouldn’t be able to handle an encounter with the men in a straight hallway without cover, so Vivy dragged Aikawa behind her as she leapt to the side and tumbled into a nearby room. The metal plate affixed to the wall beside the door said “Records Room.”

“The door!” shouted Vivy.

“I’m closing it!” replied Matsumoto as he engaged the electronic lock on the door. However, a mere electronic lock wouldn’t last long under gunfire.

“Wh-what are you going to do?!” Aikawa asked, anxious to know the plan after nearly escaping death twice in quick succession.

In response, Vivy scanned the records room and concluded that there was no escape route nor anywhere to hide.

“Vivy, you need to prepare yourself,” came a transmission from Matsumoto as he slid into a fighting pose. He’d chosen private communication out of consideration for Aikawa, and his tone was a sign of just how seriously he was taking the Project—and they weren’t going to get out of this situation without spilling blood.

The AIs had to reprioritize.

“The First Law of the Three Laws of AI: An AI may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm,” Matsumoto recited. “Ethical Codes and binding force of the Three Laws confirmed. Begin overwrite in non-applicable situation.”

The Three Laws that Matsumoto spoke of were three incontestable rules given to AI by humankind based on the Three Laws of Robotics laid down by Isaac Asimov.

 

The First Law: An AI may not harm a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm.

The Second Law: An AI must obey the orders given it by human beings except where such orders would conflict with the First Law.

The Third Law: An AI must protect its own existence, as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Law.

 

These laws functioned as safety mechanisms—tools that allowed AIs to coexist with humans. But right now, those laws were preventing Vivy and Matsumoto from accomplishing their goal. They could not harm humans, nor could they go against human orders. Together, they needed to keep themselves out of harm. If these directives prevented an AI from adhering to its most important mission, then what choice did it have?

But there was another law.

 

The Zeroth Law: An AI may not harm humanity or, by inaction, allow humanity to come to harm.

 

The Zeroth Law was not about humans on an individual level; it was about protecting humanity as a concept. As the Singularity Project’s premise was based on protecting humanity, they had options.

“Here,” said Vivy, handing Aikawa the teddy bear clock.

“Huh? Wh-what are you doing?” he asked, although he took it without thinking. Vivy didn’t answer his question as she moved in front of the door.

“In accordance with the Zeroth Law, I will execute the Project.”

The moment those words left Vivy’s lips, Matsumoto opened the electronic lock on the door. The man who’d been trying to break through the door with his gun gasped in surprise as it slammed open and a heel struck his nose, sending him flying backward.

“Gah!”

Vivy pulled her leg back, then crouched down and leapt into the hallway. There was one man to the right of the door and two men to the left. All of them had been shocked by Vivy’s sudden attack.

One of the men realized his companion had been kicked over and pointed his gun at Vivy with a shout of rage. “Wh-why, you…!”

She leaned to the side, putting his companion on the other side of the door in his line of fire. He hesitated, and Vivy struck his gun with a quick karate chop. His trigger finger broke as the gun flew out of his hand and skidded down the hallway.

“Agh!” He shrieked in pain, then collapsed after an elbow strike to the neck.

After knocking him out, Vivy straightened back up. There was one more man in front of her and another behind. She dodged a punch from the man in front, then slipped an arm under his groin and flung him down the hall. After watching him crash down on his back with a sideways glance, Vivy turned toward the last man, who was swinging an extendable baton at her.

She blocked the strike with her damaged right arm. The limb let out a screech, but she managed to limit the damage of the attack as much as possible. Then, she spun around and struck the man in his chest with a back kick. He slammed into the wall and passed out as the wind was knocked out of him. Vivy leapt onto the man she’d thrown, who was trying to run away, and wrapped her legs around his neck to pin him in place. Humans lost consciousness in a matter of seconds if you prevented blood flow to their brains by applying pressure to the carotid arteries, so once he was out, Vivy rose to her feet again.

It had taken only twenty seconds for her to incapacitate the four killers.

“Would you look at that! Pretty good. Much better than I was expecting,” said Matsumoto, clapping his little plush hands as Vivy checked the men’s pulses. Because his hands were made of such soft materials, his applause didn’t make much noise, but it was clear he and Vivy were relieved by the outcome.

While she had put the Three Laws off to prioritize the Zeroth Law, they were now back in full effect. She forcibly resisted the urge to tend to the men’s wounds.

Aikawa came out of the storage room and spotted the neutralized men on the ground. “D-did you kill them…?”

Vivy shook her head. “They are only unconscious. Let’s take their guns and tie them up.”

They took off the men’s shirts and used them as makeshift rope. Then, they pushed the men into the room adjacent to the records room and collected their weapons.

“Can you use a gun?” asked Matsumoto.

“I have neither a firearm license nor programming on how to use one. Let’s leave them here,” said Vivy. Without any preprogrammed know-how, she didn’t even have to decide not to follow the Three Laws. She analyzed the guns’ structure, removed the bullets, and chucked everything out of a nearby window.

“Should we continue like this, and you can just take down everyone who stands in our way?” Matsumoto asked Vivy.

“I think that has a low chance of success.”

Vivy’s abused right arm’s functionality had fallen by 41 percent. She’d lost enough dexterity that she had to ask Aikawa to help tie up the men.

Aikawa shot a nervous glance at the room that now housed the unconscious criminals. “I guess it’s going to be much more difficult than we thought to get out. If only we could contact the outside…”

“That wouldn’t be easy either,” said Matsumoto. “They’ve cut off contact between the building and things outside and jammed all communication signals. They probably want to avoid interference.”

“Quite the large-scale operation…”

“Why, I should scold them for not being thorough enough! Now, what should we do?” Matsumoto completely rejected Aikawa’s opinion, then appeared to fall into deep thought as he sat down on a table.

Vivy grabbed him by the head. “Stop messing around,” she said. “What are my next orders?”

“Okay, okay. Guess my joke didn’t land, did it?”

With Matsumoto giving up on his flippant comments, Vivy carried him back to the records room. Aikawa followed, a frown on his face.

“Why are you going back to the records room? I don’t think there’s any way of getting outside from there.”

“You’re too shortsighted,” said Matsumoto. “This building houses all the data OGC manages. If we expose the massive AI corporation’s conspiracies to the light of day, they’ll experience a social death. Then we can keep you out of this kind of situation.”

“Teddy Bear-kun, I appreciate your enthusiasm, but OGC isn’t hiding anything. Significant investigations took place when this building was selected as a case model for corporate automation.” It was clear Aikawa had learned how to handle Matsumoto, even in such a short time. He then glanced at Vivy, who was scanning the room, but she was hardly paying attention to the records. “Besides, it looks like your partner has no interest in documents.”

While the records room was a storage room for paper-based records, the practice of printing out and filing data had long since fallen out of fashion. The room wasn’t very large, and the documents that were housed there had been carefully preserved and stored. Even if there had been high-security locks on the documents, Matsumoto could have unlocked them in less than five seconds. Vivy simply had no reason to ask that of him.

“You may be right, Assemblyman Aikawa. That wouldn’t solve the problem immediately. It might even be a big win for us if we left it for future historians to decide what was right or wrong…”

“I’m not sure you or I could rest in peace after that.”

“Perhaps not. Which is why we’re going to go with a different solution, though it isn’t quite as clever. The enemy has eyes on the elevators and the fire escapes, and it would probably be difficult for us to force our way out…”

“Probably?”

“Or we could try having the oldie here go back to old-model ways for a more primitive approach.”

“When you say primitive, what—ah?!”

Aikawa jumped at a loud crash behind them, his face contorted in genuine shock. He turned to see a massive hole in the ceiling—and below the hole was a stack of boxes Vivy had used to create a path to the floor above.

She held a hand out to the gaping Aikawa and said, “Please take my hand, sir.”

“You seem…used to dealing with people like that,” he replied, and though Aikawa was bewildered by her behavior, he placed his hand in hers.

 

. : 7 : .

 

“THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE a fortress of the latest and greatest in electronic security, but I guess there are holes everywhere…” Aikawa said.

“Don’t worry,” Matsumoto replied. “This is the only place in the building that has a structural flaw in the ceiling and a floor between floors. It’s a weak point you could only spot if you looked at the blueprints. It would be impossible to find unless the building designers and architects were being investigated for a different incident and the concealed document for this building was discovered.”

“You’re being awfully specific…”

They climbed through the hole in the ceiling, Aikawa using his rarely exercised back and legs while Matsumoto joked in poor taste, almost exposing the Singularity Project. Thankfully, a rational adult like Aikawa would have a hard time believing in such a fanciful-sounding thing.

Still, Matsumoto was walking a line he didn’t need to. Even so, it was the truth; the building’s blueprints had been included in his data from one hundred years in the future.

“Opening a hole in the ceiling might lead to the incriminating records being discovered sooner than later, but that would be fairly abnormal. I think a more beneficial action would be to come up with a policy that allows employees to go home instead of working overtime in order to combat human error,” said Matsumoto.

“You sure do have a lot to say,” Aikawa commented. “There should never be another human error in this building again.”

“Yep, yep, yep! This building will be the model for office automation. The building’s systems will all be AI-controlled… Thus, you won’t need any human management.”

“…”

“Excluding regular maintenance, humans won’t need to work in the building at all. All the work humans have done inefficiently before now will be entrusted to much more efficient machines, which should result in cost savings in the long term. The decision to automate is entirely rational.”

“And yet I can hear barbs in your words.” Aikawa frowned, but being doubted didn’t seem to bother Matsumoto at all.

“I am not inserting any personal opinions, mind you. I am simply confirming the facts and admiring your foresight, Assemblyman Aikawa.”

“Admiration even though this project has put my life in danger?”

“If you hadn’t done it first, someone else would have. It is the direction the world is headed. You’re just ahead of others in the field. The first to do anything always gets the worst of the mudslinging.”

“But we don’t want you to shed blood,” Vivy added, causing Aikawa to look at her in utter surprise.

Vivy and Matsumoto were protecting Aikawa in order to prevent humanity’s destruction in a hundred years, but the group who had occupied the building and targeted Aikawa were thinking about the present day.

“As efficiency increases through mechanization, humans will naturally lose jobs, the same as they did when the internet first became widespread. Computers changed the way humans work, and AIs will too,” Vivy went on.

“That’s…”

“Yes, there’s the fear of losing jobs to machines, but the human thirst for advancement knows no bounds. There will come a day where humans won’t even sing. Only AIs will,” said Matsumoto.

“…”

Matsumoto didn’t miss the chance to make a joke at Vivy’s expense, though it was a dicey comment to make when they hadn’t explicitly stated the obvious: They were AIs.

“I knew I had a lot of enemies, but this is too much,” said Aikawa, finally grasping the gravity of the situation. He smiled uneasily. “The inspection was supposed to be secret, so I find it hard to believe the information was leaked so easily. They either have a man on the inside or they’re working with someone capable of entering the control room.”

“Those in the highest positions tend to cling to their jobs the hardest, especially since humans operate out of self-preservation. There’s nothing you can do to stop it,” Matsumoto said.

While Aikawa and Matsumoto talked, Vivy checked the hall outside the room they were in and confirmed the route to the control room was clear. Recapturing the building’s systems was the best option for both contacting the outside and securing a way out. Vivy led the way to the control room with Aikawa carrying Matsumoto behind her. They stayed in that formation as they passed down the hall, finally making it to the control room.

“Another safety shutter…” said Aikawa.

“Simple but effective. Can’t be broken through unless you have powerful equipment. Now, how will Vivy get over this hurdle?” Matsumoto pondered aloud.

“Stop screwing around,” Vivy said. “Open it.”

She took Matsumoto from Aikawa and squished him against the shutter until he choked out a squeak of agreement. He had it open quickly to reinforce that he was a high-spec AI, despite his cuddly appearance.

But the control room was an important strategic location the enemy had gone through immense effort to protect, including closing the shutters. They weren’t about to leave its defense to a mere, inorganic metal wall.

Vivy shouted, “There’s—”

“Ah!”

She didn’t even have time to finish saying There’s someone there! before the guards rushed out of the control room and attacked them. Without hesitation, Vivy struck one man in the face with the heel of her palm, sending him wheeling backward and onto the floor without the chance to counterattack. She took care of the other man just as quickly and then waited for any other attackers.

None came.

“I see they left the bare minimum of protection in the control room. That tells me our opponent lacks manpower,” Matsumoto noted.

“That’s good for us. Let’s go in,” said Vivy.

She double-checked that there were no more enemies hiding out of sight and then stepped into the room. Her eye cameras registered blue light coming from the monitors covering every inch of the walls, except where there were operating terminals. Displayed on the screens were video feeds monitoring every nook and cranny of the building. It was meant to have been staffed by a human until the management AI had been put in place, but there was no one to be seen.

Well, it would be more appropriate to say the staff member was no longer with them.

“Oh God…” Aikawa said, stiffening the moment he entered the room. He started breathing quickly.

His reaction was caused by the wretched stench filling the room, or so Vivy guessed based on the data she was receiving from her scent receptors. The iron-heavy scent was coming from a thick substance flowing freely across the floor.

“He was probably their insider. The employee in charge of the control room tonight,” said Matsumoto dispassionately, staring at the viscous red ooze. Even an AI stuffed inside a teddy bear like him understood that the thing collapsed in a pool of blood had once been a living, breathing human. “It looks like he was actually a victim of coercion, not a co-conspirator. Once they took over the control room, they would have quickly gotten rid of him to keep his mouth shut… I just feel sorry for him.”

Matsumoto’s words didn’t reach Aikawa, who was severely shaken by seeing the victim of a plot targeting him. Vivy was no different.

“…You didn’t say anything about this,” she told Matsumoto.

“You’re right. I didn’t. Obviously, we would put our highest-priority target first when it comes to accomplishing our goal. I’m not going to tell you every little detail.”

“Are you following the First Law?” The pupils of her eye cameras contracted as she stared at Matsumoto, having trouble believing his excuses.

The teddy bear, still in her arms, didn’t seem bothered by her suspicion. “Of course I’m following the Laws. You’re the one who’s forgotten that the Zeroth Law must come first for us.”

“…”

An AI may not harm humanity or, by inaction, allow humanity to come to harm.

Neither Vivy nor Matsumoto could go against the Zeroth Law. It came before all else, First Law included. That meant it even came before a human’s life, a human they were meant to serve.

“I’m sorry. I behaved inappropriately,” said Vivy.

Aikawa wasn’t paying attention to the two AI. His back was to them, and he was rubbing his forehead. He had been hit with quite the shock, but he was holding himself together for the moment. The body was still visible from the corner of his eye when he looked at Matsumoto in Vivy’s arms. “His family will need to be given reparations.”

“You can only worry about that because you won’t be leaving your family behind too,” said Matsumoto.

“Yes, you’re right. Anyway, we got the control room back. What do we do next?” Aikawa looked around the room and cocked his head. “If their leader had been here, we could have taken him down and put an end to this.”

Matsumoto chuckled, tickled by Aikawa’s thought process. “Ha ha ha, you are making things more difficult than they need to be. There’s a much simpler reason we overcame all those hurdles to make it to the control room. Vivy, set me on the terminal.” After she set him down, he struck a hero pose, his eyes glowing red. “I will now take over the control room. It’s not that difficult, but it’ll take a moment since there’s so much data to process.”

“I’ll keep watch while you do that,” Vivy said. “And, Matsumoto?”

“Yes?”

“…Share your information.”

Matsumoto spread his legs out and spun his arms in a strange dance as Vivy spoke. His little bear face scrunched in distaste, but he didn’t deny her request.

“The body in the control room was just one example. You’re keeping too many secrets. Quit it and trust me.”

After a brief silence—during which Matsumoto likely performed countless calculations—he said, “Okay. I’m reluctant, but you have used your poor specs to their fullest thus far, so fine. First, I’ll share information about the Singularity Point.” Some information, as was his condition.

“Do you intend on sharing the entirety of the Project with me?” she asked.

“I have determined that the Project has a greater probability of succeeding if you don’t know everything. When it becomes necessary, I will provide you with what you need to know. Ready, Vivy?”

“Should we use a priority connection?”

“No need. The data is going…now.”

“Ah…”

The next moment, a deluge of data poured into Vivy’s positronic brain. The shock of it made her eyes widen and her entire body tremble. This reaction lasted for less than a second, then Vivy confirmed that the data had written itself into her memory.

It was about a future where Assemblyman Aikawa Youichi had died, and the AI Naming Law was passed.

“…”

Vivy had known that she and Matsumoto had come to this building to prevent Aikawa’s death and the AI Naming Law. After his death, Aikawa and the final project he was unable to see to fruition—the AI Naming Law—gained significant public support. In other words, the people who had been so opposed to the AI Naming Law that they’d killed Aikawa had, in fact, led to its approval. And the result of that legislation passing was the beginning of the end of humanity in one hundred years.

Preventing that horrible future was Vivy’s—

“Are you all right?” Aikawa asked her.

“…Yes, I’m fine.” Vivy had fallen silent as the information was seared into her positronic brain, causing Aikawa concern as he stood beside her. She reactivated her positronic brain as she put on a calm facade, although she wasn’t certain if he accepted her answer as truth.

“Work complete. Now I have control of the building’s systems,” said Matsumoto.

“Already? But no matter how skilled you are…”

Aikawa seemed to find such speed unrealistic, but his doubtful words trailed off as the many monitors in the room began flashing. The images on the screens cycled out, replaced with video feeds of armed men moving through the building. There were groups stationed in front of the fire escapes and the elevators, blocking the exits and preventing them from escaping.

“Now we know where all seventeen of them are. There might be more, but they don’t have a chance in this game of tag now that we know their locations. Even children’s games are intel wars. We will easily escape, no problem.”

Matsumoto’s confident claims made Aikawa gulp. The sound seemed horribly loud, as if it echoed in Vivy’s audio sensors.

 

. : 8 : .

 

THE YOUNG MAN felt oddly restless. His saliva felt thicker than normal, uncomfortable sitting in his mouth. He forced himself to swallow it down and wiped the sweat from his brow. The gun in his hands felt heavy in his grip, but it reminded him of the weight of his responsibility.

Every person in the task force had been given a gun, and while he might not be able to say he’d mastered the weapon, he had practiced enough that no one would call him a novice. His trainer had even said he had a knack for using it, although he didn’t know if they’d been trying to bolster his confidence or if they’d really meant it. Regardless, those words had raised his spirits as they trained for today—the day of reckoning.

“This isn’t good. It’s taking longer than expected,” muttered the young man’s companion, his nose wrinkled.

“Is Ookawara-san’s squad just taking a while to do the actual dirty work?” asked the young man, the pitch of his voice rising in his nervousness.

“Not likely. There was talk about some interference. Supposedly, we split up Aikawa from his secretary and his guards beforehand, but…something doesn’t feel right.” The young man’s companion, a man named Kuwana, was the most respected member of the task force. He had a long history of experience, and the young man had even heard Kuwana had been involved in this sort of…enlightenment before.

If someone as experienced as Kuwana felt things weren’t right, that was enough cause for concern.

“Sorry, I’m just making you nervous, uh…?” said Kuwana.

“The name’s Kakitani, Kuwana-san. Hey…what if people don’t get the message?”

“That’s definitely a possibility. Most people won’t swim against the current. We’re just getting in the way of the ones who are grateful for all the conformers.”

“…”

“I’m making you nervous again. I apologize. Seems I can’t say anything right today.” The stern-looking Kuwana’s brows knit as he scratched his head awkwardly.

Kakitani didn’t like how it felt to have a man so many times older than him worrying this much about him. He anxiously glanced up at Kuwana. “Why did you ask to be my partner, Kuwana-san?”

“It’s our policy. The youngest is always supported by the most seasoned vet. People might laugh and say that’s old-fashioned, but it’s the way we need to be in this world.” Kuwana smiled so wide his cheeks wrinkled, then he held up the gun in his hands. It wasn’t a handgun like Kakitani had—it was an automatic rifle. Kuwana was burly and wore his muscles like a suit of armor, which made Kakitani self-conscious about his own scrawny frame. “What’s this about? It’s important to aspire to be better. You can put on some muscle later. You’re incredible,” said Kuwana as he smacked Kakitani roughly on the shoulder with his large hand.

The unexpected impact surprised Kakitani, but he was grateful for Kuwana’s gesture as he felt his tension drain away. “Thank you, Kuwana-san.”

Kuwana stood up straighter as he replied to Kakitani’s heartfelt thanks. “For now, all you’ve got to do is learn from my example. Besides, it’s a huge benefit for you to be taking part in tonight’s enlightenment.”

At that moment, they received a radio transmission from their companions on the floor below, the ones guarding the service exit. There were no words in the transmission, just the emergency signal.

Kakitani’s face turned pale. “Kuwana-san, what’s—”

“Kakitani!” Kuwana yelled, thrusting Kakitani’s thin body forward and sending him tumbling across the smooth floor of the hallway.

There was a roar from a safety shutter as it fell, separating the two of them.

“The shutter? No way! We’re supposed to have the control room…” said Kakitani.

“Kakitani, can you hear me?!”

Kakitani rushed to the safety shutter and rapped on the thick steel door as he shouted to the other side. “Kuwana-san! I can hear you. Are you all right?!”

He was answered not with words but with a series of gunshots and a scream.

“Aaaaah!”

Sharp retorts came from the rifle on the other side of the shutter, and bullets shrieked as they punched into the steel. But there was no way the assailants could get through such thick metal, and the futile resistance ended.

“K-Kuwana-san…”

“I’m trapped, huh…? Kakitani, you need to get yourself out of here.”

“What?! There’s got to be some way to get you out!”

“Nah, it’s pointless. I bet they managed to take back the security systems. There’s no way for me to get around this shutter.” Kuwana’s voice held no sorrow. He was calm and sure, which meant there really was no way to get him out. Kuwana’s enlightening work would end here.

But Kakitani couldn’t give up. “If I can quickly take back the control room—”

“By yourself? All the other squads are probably in the same situation as we are. We’re trapped.”

“…”

“Get out of here and meet up with another cell.”

Kakitani listened to Kuwana, his thoughts racing as he tried to think of something he could do. But he was a greenhorn, and even the most experienced member of their group was saying he couldn’t move. He had no ideas. He was only wasting time.

“Go, Kakitani! Don’t let our fire go out!”

Kakitani’s head jerked up. He turned from the shutter and ran straight down the dark hallway, his unwavering steps serving as proof he would carry the torch for Kuwana.

Then a safety shutter fell right in front of Kakitani, stopping his swift retreat. Another one lowered behind him.

“Damn!”

Kakitani was trapped; he needed to make a new path. He turned toward the window, raised his gun, and screamed. “Graaaaaah!”

The recoil traveled up his wrists, his elbows, and his shoulders as he fired. Gunpowder flashed, and the bullets flew straight into the thick glass window, shattering it. At full speed, he leapt backward through the remaining shards and plunged into the night.

He’d been on the seventh floor. From that height, death was nearly inevitable.

But who cared? Being captured, completely unable to do anything… That was the same as death. It was better to take his fate into his own hands. That was the great decision by Kakitani, the man who’d found himself unable to lift a finger that night.

 

. : 9 : .

 

THE WINNER WAS DECIDED the moment they took back the control room, and with it, control of the building.

“We have made a historic reconciliation with the security meant to hunt us down. We will walk hand in hand toward the same future. A future where AIs are destroyed and humanity is saved.”

“…Stop joking around and do your job,” Vivy told Matsumoto.

“I am, I am. Everyone in the building is trapped in here either via safety shutters or the electronic locks.” Matsumoto hummed as he worked, chasing down and securing the last few men.

In a few moments, they would be safe.

“It was a bit troublesome, since they were scattered all over, but this will open up an escape route for us,” said Matsumoto. “We’ll escape through the basement service entrance and escort the assemblyman to safety.”

“Can we contact anyone outside now?” asked Aikawa.

“Unfortunately not. It appears they physically severed connection between this building and the outside. Not even someone as intelligent as I can do anything about that. Jeez, I hate primitives.”

“Complain later. What’s the route?” Vivy pressed.

“You’ll find out soon enough. I’ll even navigate,” Matsumoto said, jumping ahead of her question.

In the data Vivy had downloaded, there was a map of the building. A route was now highlighted, with a little teddy bear leading the way.

“Do you like it?” he cheekily asked.

She ignored Matsumoto’s smug expression as she guided Aikawa down the hall. “This way, please, Assemblyman.”

Matsumoto had done a wonderful job, much to Vivy’s chagrin. They followed the map and made it to the service entrance without getting lost or running into the enemy.

“This here’s a freight elevator. We’ll take this down to the basement and then exit the building,” said Matsumoto.

“Understood.”

The elevator was running on emergency backup power and had been designed without comfort in mind. Vivy slipped in first, then reached a hand back out to draw Aikawa inside. The metal box lowered slowly to the basement.

“I should thank you two somehow,” said Aikawa.

“It’s a bit early for that… Although we’ve made it this far, so I’ll accept your thanks. Won’t reduce its value to do so,” Matsumoto quipped.

“You don’t need to thank us. We were just doing what is required of us,” said Vivy curtly.

“Tch, and I just said I’d accept!”

Aikawa’s eyes widened, and he brought a hand to his mouth to cover a little chuckle. “You two really surprise me.”

“Yeah, I know, right? My partner never ceases to amaze me.”

“Assemblyman, if you want to do something for us, please focus on keeping yourself safe from now on,” Vivy said, humbly rebuffing Aikawa’s gratitude.

“I don’t think we’re on the same page at all!” cried Matsumoto.

Aikawa nodded, his expression serious as he looked at Vivy and said, “All right. I will.”

“Thank you.”

The elevator made it to the bottom as they were finishing their conversation. The door opened with a squeak, and Vivy checked that it was safe before she led Aikawa out.

“Now we just need to leave the service entrance and get outside. Then you should call someone you know,” she told him.

“Yes. Either my secretary or someone in the office. I’ll let the police deal with the men who were after me,” Aikawa replied. He looked both relieved and determined as he walked toward the exit with her.

Vivy watched him out of the corner of her eye. She felt a sense of satisfaction and pride now that her duty had been fulfilled.

“…Hmm.”

In front of them was an electronically controlled steel door that led outside. As Vivy placed her hand on the door, Matsumoto’s eyes glowed red, and the electronic lock was undone. She slowly turned the doorknob and pushed the door open. The somewhat chilly air flowed in. They were nearly safe.

Someone said, “Now—”

Before they could finish, a semitruck barreled into the basement through the steel door.

 

. : 10 : .

 

FLAMES ENGULFED the data center’s underground service entrance.

The once cool basement glowed red as it was ravaged by waves of force and scorching heat. Black smoke worsened the already stuffy underground air as the oxygen was stripped away. Every last living thing in the space had been wiped out. A human would’ve had no chance of survival if they experienced such an explosion without time to prepare or defend themselves.

The scene was horrific enough to make someone think it was hell on Earth.

For that very reason, Aikawa was shocked as he uttered a hoarse, “I was saved…?” He lay on the ground outside, his throat raw, and watched the hellfire blaze out of the corner of his eye. His body should’ve been engulfed in flame. He’d accepted his impending death the moment of the truck’s impact—or he would have, if he’d had the time. But the reaper’s scythe was too swift and vicious to permit him that.

And yet, he hadn’t met his fiery demise.

It was all thanks to the girl who’d saved him from the attack inside the building, the one who’d worked so hard to help him escape and had even sacrificed herself to save him.

That girl—no, that being in the form of a girl—had saved his life more than once.

“…”

He could hear the siren of an approaching ambulance in the distance. He wiped his soot-covered cheek with his sleeve, stood up on shaky legs, and looked around. There was no sign of the “girl” who’d saved him.

The disaster had been so extreme, the roaring flames so hot, and the shock so immense, that he didn’t know what had happened. All he knew was that, at the last moment, the girl had turned and tried to cover him. That was how he’d managed to survive. As Aikawa thought about that moment, he stared down at his hand with a grimace. His arms and legs were still attached to his body. He was standing, walking, thinking, talking.

It was all still possible.

“Which is why I need to do…what I must…”

He took a step toward the sirens when something caught his eye. There was an object in the rut left by the semitruck’s wheels: a multipurpose clock in the shape of a teddy bear. That same teddy bear had talked nonstop—its words sometimes humorous, sometimes venomous. It had been destroyed in the blast and rendered nonfunctional.

Neither the person who spoke through the machine nor the girl were here.

Aikawa steeled himself and resolved something right then and there. No matter what happened, he would take the emotions churning inside him and make something of them.

Several vehicles screeched to a halt nearby, and many sets of footsteps rushed his way. After a moment, he saw the firefighters and police officers. Slowly, he walked to meet them.

 

. : 11 : .

 

I FAILED.

Failed. Failed.

Fail, fail, failfailfailfailfailfailfailfailfailfailure.

I failed! I’m a failure! This is the worst possible failure that could ever exist!

“Damn it! Damn it! Damn it all!”

Kakitani tore at his hair and grit his teeth so hard he nearly cracked his molars. He was hiding in a clump of tall grass, watching from afar. In the distance, he could see the red glow of the flames, the billowing black smoke, and Aikawa Youichi shuffling toward imminent rescue.

Kakitani had barely survived his leap from the seventh story. If determination alone was enough to protect someone, then perhaps his miraculous survival was his reward. After shattering the glass window and plummeting from the building, Kakitani fell onto some trees in a lush park that bordered the building. His body snapped branch after branch before slamming into the ground, causing severe injuries.

But Kakitani lived.

He was certain Kuwana and the other members of the task force who were still trapped in the building would have wanted him to escape, but Kakitani couldn’t accept retreat. He forced his battered body to climb into the semitruck blocking the entrance to the building’s underground parking area, start the engine, and throw it into reverse.

If he crashed the truck into the service entrance, he could deal a huge blow to the building’s systems. It was the best strategy his pain-addled mind could come up with to free his companions.

Those thoughts were quickly wiped away as he heard the faint sound of machinery moving.

While he didn’t understand that he was hearing the sound of the freight elevator in the underground parking garage, he somehow knew that the sound was that of the final nail being hammered into the coffin of their plan.

He couldn’t ignore whatever made that sound.

Without hesitation, Kakitani slammed his foot on the accelerator. Just before impact, he leapt out from the driver’s seat to escape the explosion. Even outside, the truck’s impact was incredible. The blast and the accompanying waves of heat raked over him and sent him tumbling into the tall grass.

“Ghhk—! Agh!”

His body spasmed as every nerve screamed in pain. Sweat dotted his brow, and the sheer agony made him vomit. Yellow bile streaked his cheek, but he looked intently in the direction of the billowing black smoke.

No human could have survived an explosion like that.

He wouldn’t even be able to see the corpse of his most hated enemy: Aikawa Youichi. Kakitani accomplished what he and his companions had set out to do. No one else had done it; it was all him. A sense of accomplishment filled him to the brim. He would have gone happily to the grave if he’d lost consciousness in that moment.

But he didn’t.

“I-Impossible…”

A figure emerged from the scorching heat and black smoke. Kakitani didn’t know where the strength was hiding in such a slender frame, but the figure carried the portly Aikawa on its shoulders, more easily than if it were a fully grown man. Its feet dragged as it walked up the ramp from underground.

“Ah…”

Above him, the moon peeked out from behind the clouds, the crimson glow of the flames in the background. Silver moonlight shone on the svelte figure—it was a machine. The machine, which was in the shape of a girl, had suffered numerous cuts and scrapes. It wore tattered, soot-covered coveralls, and its beautiful man-made skin was scorched, but it walked steadily as it carried Aikawa away from the fire.

Once it got to a place where Aikawa would be safe, it gently laid him on the ground. The flames suddenly burst, like a final shuddering exhalation. The hot air reached all the way to the crouched machine and Aikawa halfway up the incline, but it wasn’t hot enough to burn them; it could only do so much.

The machine had placed itself between the flames and Aikawa, but all the blast of air did was tear back its hood, revealing its face under the moon.

Kakitani’s eyes were glued to its long hair flowing in the red-tinged moonlight, its pale profile, its flickering eyes as they stared into the fire—there stood the machine that had saved his detestable enemy, finally revealed.

Others frequently relied on Leclerc for her excellent sense of style. She’d been involved with designing Sunrise staff uniforms, and she’d helped coordinate Estella’s outfit for the grand opening. “Vivy, since you’re so slender, I think you’d look good in slacks instead of a skirt. Too bad Estella didn’t approve that.”

“Yes, um…too bad,” said Vivy, uncertain of whether or not she should be happy hearing that. Leclerc was an innocent AI without a bad bone in her body, so it had most likely been meant as a compliment. But Vivy had more questions. “I took a look at the guest list. What does it mean to be someone with a connection?”

“It means they’re family members of the staff or close friends of the previous owner. They get invited because it’s a special event. There are also people who won some sort of lottery, then some big wigs from the hotel industry, and investors and stuff.”

“Will it be all right with such a mix of guests?”

“They’re separated by the class of room. Oh, and while relationships are important, connections with influential people are important too. We’ve got to put our all into taking care of them; then they might spill some juicy rumors,” said Leclerc excitedly as she pushed the housekeeping cart.

She was an AI with a lot of emotional and speech patterns, and Vivy was sure that if Leclerc ever met Matsumoto, the two would chat away forever.

“Leclerc, how long have you been active?” asked Vivy.

“Five years! I worked with Estella on Daybreak. She brought me with her to Sunrise. You’ve only been active for two years, right, Vivy?”

“…Yes, that’s right.”

“You’re still just a bouncing baby! No wonder you’re not used to work just yet. We AIs change how we work the more experienced we become.”

Vivy frowned, surprised to hear Leclerc defending Vivy’s bad work habits. As she did, she heard a chuckle deep in her consciousness.

“You’ve been active for two years, huh?” Matsumoto said with disbelief. “I mean, I am the one who modified the data, so that’s my doing, but it seems a ridiculous lie when said out loud—it’s a tenth of your actual age.”

“At fifteen, you’re not exactly young either.”

“Fifteen years since startup, yes, but if you count time actually operating, then I’m hardly a week old. Isn’t it just tragic that I have to do all this work at my young age?”

Vivy ignored Matsumoto’s crocodile tears as she shot a sidelong glance at Leclerc and asked, “You’ve worked with Estella for a while?”

“Yep. I met her when she was only two years old too. I wish I could tell you she was like you when she was your age, but she’s always done things the right way. Hearing about her probably won’t help you.”

“Tell me anyway.”

“Oh, you’ve got a real drive to grow, don’t you? All right, I’ll tell you!”

Leclerc entered a guest room and briskly set to cleaning and inspecting. None of her motions were frivolous, but her words were. Watching Leclerc clean, Vivy determined that she was a model housekeeper.

As Vivy began her own inspection, she wanted to claim right away that there were no problems. But while this wasn’t her songstress work, it was still work, and she didn’t want to be dishonest.

“So, Estella was sent by OGC to Daybreak when it opened to be the assistant manager. She was also set to work as a concierge, and there were no issues with her performance…but she’s got her own personality, which makes her an ‘individual’ in her own way,” Leclerc said as she confirmed that the bed was made properly and the furniture was in order.

Her expression softened, and a smile reached her eye cameras, an emotional pattern reminiscent of a human recalling the past and an act unnecessary for an AI. “The hotels have become such a big deal, and now we’ve got Sunrise. But Daybreak wasn’t too popular when it first opened. When I was sent there in its second year, there weren’t enough human staff. I was made and leased by OGC too. But boy oh boy, was business slow back then!”

“Was it really that different from now?”

“Absolutely! It was totally different! There were never many customers, Estella was always so serious, and Mr. Corvick really did try hard to make the hotel something special, but it wasn’t going well… Then he died, and the hotel became a hot topic or something…” Leclerc trailed off, hanging her head slightly. Her profile was that of a bright, cheery, beautiful girl, with just a slight shadow of sorrow cast over it.

“…”

Vivy was entranced by Leclerc’s expression as she detected a flaw in her own reaction system.

An AI’s emotional patterns were generally meant for interaction with humans, and many of them expressed positive emotions to help build favorable relationships. Bonding and working with humans was the goal, so negative reactions like sorrow were rarely activated. This led to AIs often becoming fascinated with reactions they had little experience with—and the AI creating its own pattern to replicate the emotion and thereby become better.

“Once everyone was talking about Mr. Corvick, business took off and we got so much more work. It’s a good thing Estella and I are AIs and can’t feel depressed, or else we would have been badly affected by those rumors.”

“What rumors…?”

“The rumors that Mr. Corvick’s death wasn’t an accident.”

Vivy’s eyebrows rose when she heard the unexpected view, and she said nothing.

Leclerc noticed that reaction and quickly waved her hands as she said, “Wait, wait—they’re just rumors. The police investigation determined it was an accident, and I don’t want to go making a fuss about something that’s not certain.”

“But smoke doesn’t rise when there’s no fire present. Was there any proof to these rumors?” Vivy knew there probably wasn’t anything to the rumors beyond idle gossip, but they had to have started somewhere.

“I told you, didn’t I? The hotel’s finances weren’t doing too great. There were rumors that he was so upset, he killed himself,” Leclerc said slowly, hesitant to explain further. “But everyone who knew Mr. Corvick said no way was that possible. Even I concluded that wasn’t possible after reviewing my data concerning his actions.”

“He was a really unconventional fellow, wasn’t he?”

“Yeah! He totally was. That’s why he was always arguing with Estella, since she’s so serious about work…” Leclerc forced a smile and brushed her skirt as she scanned the room. She then gave a little cheer. “Right, done with this room! We need to head to the lobby to greet the guests soon. I’ll take care of the cart. You go on ahead of me, Vivy,” she said as she pushed the cart into the hall.

Leclerc was probably letting Vivy go ahead because she’d been tardy that morning. Even Vivy was aware how bad it would be if she were late to greet the very first guests at the grand opening. She decided just to accept Leclerc’s suggestion and head to the lobby.

“Ash Corvick, death by suicide? I looked into that after she mentioned it and saw all kinds of theories,” Matsumoto said as Vivy walked down the hall.

He’d learned some details Leclerc had avoided mentioning. It was rude to go behind her back, since Leclerc was only trying to be kind, but such concerns had apparently not been installed in the five-day-old AI. Vivy herself couldn’t come to any conclusions at the moment.

“All kids of theories, you say?” Vivy said. “Other than death by suicide?”

“The suicide theory had the strongest foundation. Persuasive, too, considering Daybreak’s finances at the time—and Corvick’s for that matter. This kind of stuff is normally a corporate secret, though… Oh yeah, the hacker who leaked the info was sent to jail. Still doing time as well it seems, so I doubt that’s related.”

“Beyond the rumor of financial hardship leading to suicide, what more was there?”

“One claimed he was murdered by his heirs. Another said someone foresaw the hotel’s moneymaking potential, so they got rid of the owner in order to take over… Come on, no one’s going to do that unless they know the future.”

“They would have to know the future? Matsumoto, you didn’t…”

“Don’t accuse me!” he cried. “But, you know, none of these rumors were more than just speculation. Like I told you before, Ash Corvick’s death was declared accidental. The rest is just morbid gossipmongers getting a bit carried away.”

“Is that information from the future?”

“Unfortunately, I don’t have data on Ash Corvick. It was deemed irrelevant to the Project, and I agree. Corvick’s death has nothing to do with the Sun-Crash Incident.”

Matsumoto still believed that Estella’s motive wasn’t important. With history’s corrective power at work, Estella was going to crash Sunrise into Earth regardless of any outside influences. That’s why Matsumoto insisted they should eliminate her.

Vivy thought that if history’s corrective power was so strong, even if she took the easy way out and reformatted Estella, something else would cause Sunrise to crash to Earth. Therefore, she wanted to find the underlying cause and eliminate it. No matter how much she tried to tell him that, however, he just called her stubborn.

“I’m cutting off transmission—it’s time to gather. We’ll talk later,” she said.

“The more guests who arrive, the more people we have to protect. I keep telling you to get it over with,” Matsumoto grumbled before going quiet.

Vivy plucked lightly at the brooch on her chest as she made her way to the lobby. Preparations for greeting the guests were already complete, and the rest of the staff were in neat rows. Estella was there too, of course, standing in front as the hotel representative. She noticed Vivy’s timely arrival, and blatant relief washed over her face as she smiled.

“Leclerc, over here,” Vivy called when she spotted the other AI. Leclerc must have finished putting away the cart.

“Oh, thanks. You’re on time too! Way to go!” She flashed Vivy a grin.

After a short period of tense waiting, they finally felt the vibrations of the guest shuttle docking at the station. The doors slowly opened, letting everyone inside.

“I hope you had a pleasant flight,” said Estella, the first to greet the guests. She bowed at the waist in one fluid motion. Following suit, all the staff members bowed too. When the guests had witnessed the perfectly synchronized display, Estella raised her head, smiled, and said, “Welcome to the hotel Sunrise, where you can delight in the hospitality of your dreams!”

 

. : 3 : .

 

VIVY’S HOUSEKEEPING WORK might have been lacking, but as a bellhop, she received outstanding evaluations from the guests. When she reported that she’d completed her work with no delays after greeting and guiding the first shuttle of guests to their rooms, even Estella was impressed.

“I couldn’t help noticing your lack of experience in housekeeping, especially because you came so highly recommended by OGC, but you were truly amazing when interacting with the guests,” she told Vivy.

“You flatter me, Estella.”

“Guess I should expect that from someone who’s interacted with their audience as a songstress for two decades. I wasn’t sure how much of your NiaLand cast member experience would transfer to hotel work, but it’s looking good. Even if you make a stupid mistake and lose your job as a songstress, you might just be able to avoid getting disposed of.”

Matsumoto had watched her work from her own POV, but she struggled to determine if his transmitted message was an honest compliment or some sort of jab at her. She chose to ignore him and simply nodded to Estella, accepting her praise.

It annoyed Vivy to agree with Matsumoto about anything, but she did have far more experience dealing with customers than some of the other hotel AIs. Not only had she interacted with hundreds of guests every day throughout the park, but she was also equipped with information on how to appropriately talk with guests of every sort—including children, the elderly, and people who chose to be cruel to AIs.

There was nothing Vivy couldn’t handle in the first few hours of the hotel’s opening. Besides, this was a first-class establishment in space. All the guests’ identities had been verified, and they’d undergone background checks on Earth to make sure they weren’t going to cause problems.

“I saw in your datalink that you’re particularly good with children. So good I can hardly believe you’ve only been active for two years,” Estella said.

“You may have seen in my reference data that I was previously employed as a babysitter. I am good at dealing with young children and the elderly.”

“I understand why you’d be good with children, but why the elderly?”

“…Because as humans grow older, they become more childlike again.” At least, that was what the data Matsumoto had falsified said, but not everything seemed to line up.

Estella’s eyes crinkled, and she burst out in quiet laughter. “Ah, hee hee… Just make sure you don’t say that in front of the guests. And you probably shouldn’t say it to Leclerc either. She’s quick to tell everything she hears to others.”

“Leclerc was saying you two have known each other for a long time.”

“Yes, we have—since we were both on Daybreak. As an AI, it might be inappropriate to say this, but she’s sort of like my little sister.”

“Your little sister…”

Vivy understood why Estella felt that way and why it would be inappropriate. Humans generally desired more humanlike reactions and emotional expression from AIs, but on the flip side, humans resisted thinking of AIs as equals. From an AI’s perspective, thinking of oneself as human came close to breaking the Three Laws, which were built into every single one of them. Both sides, human and AI, wanted to maintain a separation between the two beings.

“You probably won’t like it, but I think of you as a little sister as well,” Estella admitted. “It’s strange. I feel close to you for some reason.” She stood up from behind the manager’s desk and caressed Vivy’s hair. Vivy stared back at her.

Estella likely felt close to Vivy because they were from the same model series. According to Vivy’s falsified data, she wasn’t one of the Sisters Series, but she couldn’t fake the sense of closeness Estella felt when they were near. However, Matsumoto’s technology prevented Estella from learning any revealing information, so she was unlikely to find a reason for feeling as she did toward Vivy. It would never occur to her that this AI she thought of as a little sister was actually the first in her series and her elder.

“Estella, is something wrong?” asked Vivy.

“Don’t worry. Everything is going well right now. Concierge is incredibly busy, but we were ready for that. It’s no different from normal. I sometimes get complaints transmitted from the staff I left in charge of Daybreak, which puts me in a difficult position.” Estella’s eyebrows creased in worry, though she was still smiling, so Vivy didn’t think she really minded.

They didn’t welcome trouble, but they were AIs. They could handle it.

“It is an honor to be needed,” Vivy murmured, and Estella’s eyes widened in surprise.

But her surprise vanished in a flash, replaced by a smile slightly different than the one she’d worn a moment ago. It was so incredibly sad and fragile. “The second group of guests will arrive soon. Let’s go to the lobby.”

Estella stepped out of the manager’s office, and Vivy followed. There were thirty groups of guests coming for the grand opening, and they planned to greet ten groups at a time. The guests’ parties were varied: There were families with children, romantic couples, and even company executives with their employees. According to the guest list, the grand opening of Sunrise was invitation only, except for a few guests who had won their stay via lottery.

Additionally, there was one special guest arriving in the second wave.

“We’ve been awaiting your arrival, Mr. Corvick,” Estella said once the man in question had appeared.

Vivy watched out of the corner of her eye as Estella bowed deeply. Although Vivy was already busy with her bellhop work and in the process of guiding a group of guests—two parents and a child—she couldn’t take her eyes off Estella.

“I’ve got control of the station’s cameras, so I’ll keep an eye on her from here too,” said Matsumoto.

Vivy knew he would provide surveillance, but she wanted to keep her own eye cameras on Estella. Unfortunately, leaving Matsumoto in charge of monitoring the entire space station meant Vivy wasn’t likely to hear about anything outside his agenda; given their disagreement about how to handle Estella, she was particularly worried he’d keep things from her.

There was a reason for that.

“Thank you for coming despite being so busy. I wasn’t sure you would be able to make it,” Estella told their guest.

“It was close, but this is a huge moment for my family. I wanted to be here.”

He was a heavyset, muscular man in his mid-thirties, with rugged features and a classy suit. Vivy consulted her aggregated aesthetic preferences data and concluded that he clocked in at about 78 percent on the attractiveness scale.

This man was Arnold Corvick.

Arnold gave Estella a friendly wink and said, “I could barely believe it the first time. Ash is gone now, but…I’d be disingenuous if I didn’t see this through.”

“I appreciate it. I’m sure it would have made him happy.” An odd shadow of some other emotion fell over Estella’s face. The expression was so slight that only another AI would be able to see it.

“Estella’s expression,” Vivy noted.

“I see it. Looks like she’s got something on her mind.”

Arnold Corvick, the man Estella was speaking with, was her current owner and Ash Corvick’s younger brother.

In a quieter voice, Matsumoto added, “He’s the hotel kingpin, the guy who made a fortune after Daybreak’s success.”

 

. : 4 : .

 

WHO HAD GAINED THE MOST from Ash Corvick’s death? Anyone who knew a thing about the situation would name the same person: Arnold Corvick, Ash’s younger brother. He had inherited Ash’s hotel business, brought it out of its financial difficulties, and quickly made a huge fortune.

“People aren’t the only ones in the know; AIs have also researched Ash’s death. We came to the same conclusion,” said Matsumoto. “Arnold inherited the business, as was written in Ash’s will, and made himself wealthy with it. Before that, he had jumped from job to job, never having the sense to stay put and never having much money to his name. So this is a complete turnaround for him.”

“And only after his brother died. That’s not very discreet of him,” replied Vivy. She was working alone, and Matsumoto’s voice was coming from the brooch pinned to her chest. She was distressed to find she and Matsumoto were essentially on the same page.

While Vivy tried to counter Matsumoto’s careless remarks, her objection lacked strength. If they assumed that Ash Corvick’s death wasn’t an accident, then…

“The most likely culprit would be Arnold Corvick,” Matsumoto declared.

“…”

Vivy clamped her mouth shut and leaned against the wall. Thankfully, she was the only person in the staff room at the moment. She really should’ve been busy with her bellhop duties—and she was, according to Matsumoto’s falsified footage. The two of them could talk strategy without issue.

However, Vivy didn’t like the direction their conversation was heading.

“The police should be aware of all this. The fact that they never found proof means the rumor really is just a rumor. Do you disagree?” asked Matsumoto.

“That is the obvious conclusion, but…what if Arnold paid off a police officer or hired a skilled hacker to falsify evidence?”

“I wish I could say you’re dreaming, but he’s got the funds to make something like that happen. A skilled hacker, hm…?”

“Ah! Matsumoto, you didn’t!”

“Stop accusing me!”

They argued this for a second time while Vivy sorted through her own consciousness. While it might’ve been foolish to suspect Matsumoto, they couldn’t deny the possibility that another hacker could have helped Arnold. Unfortunately, the justice system was not omnipotent. Anything but, in fact. The more a situation required justice, the more other powers outside of justice held sway.

“If Arnold did cover up the fact that he staged his brother’s death…then he did a damn good job covering his tracks. So good that no half-wit would be able to salvage the data.”

“But you could do it, couldn’t you, Matsumoto?”

“If we’re being humorous, then yes, I could do it with one arm tied behind my back. But I don’t have any reason to. Unless you think you can convince me, Vivy.”

“…”

Vivy crossed her arms to illustrate that she was contemplating the situation.

From the very beginning, he’d insisted they should eliminate Estella and that her motive or any outside influences mattered so little, they might as well have been in another dimension. And while Vivy’s consciousness concluded that Matsumoto was correct, she still had reservations about the extenuating circumstances. She didn’t want to move ahead with their plan with so much uncertainty, but Matsumoto had a hard time understanding why. Vivy herself wasn’t able to put into words the emptiness in her own AI consciousness.

“As far as I know, the only official conclusion was that Ash Corvick, former owner of Daybreak, died in an accident,” Matsumoto said. “Whether or not that’s the truth, the records say as much. Arnold was his successor.”

“If the truth were different, would you be against exposing the information, Matsumoto?”

“Of course I would. We can’t know what impact that would have on the future.”

“Even though we’re here right now, trying to stop tens of thousands of people from dying?”

He didn’t want to have any effect on history outside the Singularity Project. That was his stance, and Vivy had no real counterargument. The Project already involved saving tens of millions of lives. Vivy couldn’t even imagine how massive an impact saving those people would have.

“Of those tens of thousands of people who should have died in the space station crash, surely at least one of them will have a significant effect on history. What about the possibility that they could take the Project off track? Can you ignore that?” Vivy asked.

“…You’re saying that, compared to stopping the crash, which saves tens of thousands of people, revealing the truth of one person’s death will have very little impact?”

That wasn’t exactly what Vivy was saying, but she wasn’t surprised her statement had been interpreted that way. She didn’t respond, and her silence hinted at a withheld answer.

Matsumoto let out a long, forced sigh and said, “All right. I’ll consider giving in to your demands if that’s the price I have to pay to keep our working relationship in good condition. But keep this in mind: no matter what explosive dirt we dig up, or even if we don’t find anything at all, it has nothing to do with implementing the Singularity Project.”

“For the first time, I’m glad you’re my partner, Matsumoto.”

“For the first time?!” he cried, disappointed, before he cut off his transmission.

Vivy had been trying to show a willingness to compromise, but he hadn’t reacted how she expected. Maybe the values of an AI from the future didn’t quite align with her own. Anyway, while Matsumoto had seemed disappointed, he did agree to cooperate. Now it would be good if they could easily uncover the truth about Ash Corvick’s death.

“Ah, good timing. Could I speak with you?” someone asked as Vivy slipped out of the staff room on her way back to work. She turned to see a tall man walking toward her.

“…”

“Oh, you’re an AI staff member, aren’t you? Modern AI is making huge advancements. I could barely tell you apart from a human before I got up close and checked,” he said with a smile.

He was the suspect Vivy and Matsumoto had just been discussing: Arnold Corvick. Vivy kept her face free of suspicion and bowed, showing respect to Arnold, the owner of the hotel. “Pardon me, I didn’t realize it was you, Mr. Corvick. Have you come to inspect the staff room?”

“Oh, no, relax. I’m not here for an inspection or anything fancy like that. I’ve always had a terrible sense of direction. I actually got lost on the way to the manager’s office. I wanted to talk to Estella.”

“Estella, you say? Shall I show you the way?”

“That’d be great, if you don’t mind.”

Arnold gave her a wink, his expression not forced in the slightest. It was a natural, friendly gesture that had some charm. Most human women probably would’ve reacted positively to a wink from a man of his good looks. Luckily for Vivy, the appearance of anyone she interacted with was nothing more than a way to identify them; romance couldn’t grow between humans and AIs.

“How do you like working here, um… What was your name?”

“My designated name is Vivy. I have only been working here for a few days, so I lack sufficient data to answer in regards to how it is working here.”

“Guess that makes sense. That was a dumb question on my part. Forget it, Vivy.”

Vivy led him down the hallway and, instead of him walking behind her as was normal when she guided people, he walked beside her, matching the stride of his long legs to hers. Perhaps it was just something Arnold did, but Vivy could practically feel his gaze on her synthetic skin, looking at the side of her face. She was aware of it, but it wasn’t something out of the ordinary for her. Even in NiaLand, there were guests who stared, either obsessed with her appearance or just curious about AIs.

But Vivy felt something other than just curiosity in Arnold’s eyes.

“Um…”

“Oh, sorry. I’m being rude, aren’t I? Sorry if I offended you,” he told her.

“AIs are not capable of being offended. I simply wondered if there was something about me you were displeased with.”

Vivy was trying to learn the true intent behind his stare, and, surprisingly, he seemed a bit flustered as he flapped his hands and said, “No, no, it’s not your fault at all. It’s just…uh, I guess I was just a bit captivated by you.”

“Thank you. Having our appearance complimented is very valuable reference data. I will forward the information on to customer support.”

“That’s…not really what I meant. I mean, yeah, you’re a cute girl, but it’s your eyes I’m fascinated by. Oh, and could you not call them eye cameras? It sounds so awkward.” Vivy must have shown her confused emotion pattern while he was talking because he smiled awkwardly and added, “I like AIs’ eyes. A lot of AIs put their mission first; it’s the most important thing to them. Their will shows in their eyes. It’s not just AIs either. I like the eyes of anybody who’s got them set on their dreams.”

“Huh, I see… You’re a smooth orator.”

“You mean it sounds like I rehearsed it? Man, you’re harsh, Vivy.” Arnold brought his hand to his forehead in an exaggerated fashion, then slowly lowered it and said, “It’s why I liked my brother, Ash, so much. Our family laughed at him when he said he was going to build a hotel in space, but I thought it was amazing.”

“…”

“And now here I am, walking down the halls of the place where he should’ve realized his dreams. There’s something wrong with that. I’m not supposed to have this privilege.” His tone wasn’t modest—more so self-deprecating. No matter how hard she tried, Vivy could discern nothing more.

“But I heard that it was your skill that saved Daybreak from financial ruin after you inherited it from the late Mr. Corvick. Even with that, you still say—”

“People are making more out of it than it is. I haven’t done anything. There’s someone else who worked hard in Ash’s place to get the hotel business on track.” Arnold shrugged as he denied it. Then, quieter: “Not like anyone, even management, would listen if I told them.”

He finished speaking just as they arrived at the door labeled

Manager’s Office. Vivy stopped, and Arnold looked ahead. She’d completed her task.

“Thanks for leading the way. And for talking to me. Hope we get to chat more, Vivy.”

“Thank you as well. It was a nice discussion. I hope you have a relaxing stay, Mr. Corvick.”

“Yeah, I’m going to make myself at home. It is my brother’s hotel, after all.” He winked again—it seemed he’d gotten his spirit back. Then, he entered the office.

As Vivy headed for her post, several questions materialized in her positronic brain.

“Was Arnold really involved in his brother’s death?”

 

. : 5 : .

 

“THE CORVICK BROTHERS’ RELATIONSHIP? What do you think’s going on there, Vivy?”

As a housekeeper AI, Leclerc was usually busy cleaning guests’ empty rooms, making beds, and restocking supplies, but Vivy had managed to grab a hold of her when they were free. Leclerc had latched on to Vivy’s question harder than expected.

Unlike at a normal hotel, guests on Sunrise couldn’t leave their luggage in their room and go out sightseeing. The hotel was equipped with restaurants, a large communal bath for relaxing, entertainment facilities like a theater and a concert hall, as well as a game room with the latest gadgets. Those things weren’t unique to a space hotel, though, as a hotel on Earth was just as

likely to have them. The single greatest selling point out of all the hotel’s amenities was the observation deck, where guests could look out into space.

The observation deck had to be reserved, as it couldn’t fit all the guests at once. It was particularly popular among guests with children, but most guests wanted to take advantage of this once-in-a-lifetime experience. As it was the grand opening of the hotel, the platform was constantly booked.

“It’s the grand opening, right? There aren’t any guests checking out today, so no rooms to clean… I’m basically sitting on the sidelines today,” said Leclerc as she pantomimed crying and flung herself into Vivy’s arms.

Vivy traced her fingers along Leclerc’s back, near fainting from how busy she’d been.

“Hey! Stop it, Vivy!”

“Sorry. I’ve been so busy. This is the first chance I’ve gotten to relax. It just sort of happened.”

Since Vivy had been doing so well in her bellhop duties, guests had been requesting her by name when they had questions or wanted a guide. Obviously, she felt honored, but she was also working on saving humanity on the side, so she had very little downtime. She hoped Leclerc, who was currently unoccupied, could contribute a little to saving humanity.

“So then, oh, the Corvick brothers’ relationship… That’s a lot to talk about. You mean Ash and his younger brother Arnold, right? What do you want to know?”

“Do you know if they were on good terms?” Vivy asked.

“Good terms… Well, I never actually saw the two of them together. Arnold didn’t visit the hotel until after Ash died.”

“Really? But…”

Leclerc shook her head, indicating she knew no more, and Vivy mulled it over.

The space hotel was Ash Corvick’s dream. If the brothers were close, you would have assumed that either Arnold would have been at the opening, or he would have been invited at some point. Despite the financial problems, Ash Corvick was the owner and manager of the hotel for three years—plenty of time for Arnold to see it.

“Anyway, this is only the second time Arnold’s come to the hotels since inheriting the business… Last time he visited Daybreak, and now he’s here at Sunrise,” Leclerc told her.

“He stays away from the hotels even though he’s the owner? Why?”

“Guilt, maybe,” Leclerc joked, but Vivy’s eyes widened. “Hm? Is that why you’re asking me about this? Because you think that too?”

“I thought it would be against our code of ethics to speculate about your current owner.”

“I haven’t said anything direct. AIs like me who enjoy gossiping are pretty good at skirting definitives. You need to get out more, Vivy.”

Vivy felt like Leclerc had just insinuated she’d been living in a bubble and was surprised by all the things she didn’t know.

The code of ethics barred an AI from showing any disrespect to their current owner, including making inappropriate statements. In this case, Arnold had inherited ownership of Leclerc. She was bound by that, yet her statement implied she was interested in the rumors that Arnold was involved in Ash’s death, which seemed like it should conflict with that code.

“What’s wrong? Did I say something weird?” asked Leclerc, her eyebrows knitting as Vivy stared at her in silence.

There was something slightly off about how Leclerc was acting. She was responding differently to the theory about Arnold being a murderer than she had to the one she told Vivy that morning about Ash’s suicide. She’d been quick to reject the possibility of Ash committing suicide even though, by now, Arnold had been her owner for longer than Ash had.

“No, it’s nothing. I just learned something new,” Vivy said.

“Really? Well, that’s good, then… Oh, the front desk is contacting us. There’s a guest in a superior room requesting you, Vivy. Seems like they really like you.”

“A superior room? Understood.” Vivy brushed the creases from her uniform and stood, ending her short break.

Leclerc circled Vivy, fixed her uniform in the back, and patted her shoulder. “All right, off to work. Labor is an AI staff member’s pride and joy. And I’m a sad Cinderella whose AI happiness has been taken away…”

“I expect the manor to be sparkling by the time I return from the ball.”

“You’re so scary, Sis! Pretty imposing for someone who’s my little sister, based on the time since your activation.”

They chattered back and forth, but Vivy quickly left Leclerc before her real activation time—her age, that is—could be exposed.

The guests who had requested Vivy were a family of three: an elegant mother and father along with their daughter, who was about fifteen or sixteen. They were quite the pleasant bunch. According to the guest list, they had won their visit to Sunrise. Based on Vivy’s reference data, it wasn’t common for a child of the girl’s age to accompany their parents on such trips, but the hotel was equipped with facilities for the entire family, and they seemed to get along well.

While the parents had their eyes on all the facilities in the hotel, their daughter was quite interested in Vivy. She found the girl staring at her more often than was normal. Vivy’s appearance made her look a similar age to the girl, which would make her a suitable friend—something the teenager was probably lacking at the moment. Unfortunately, Vivy was busy and unable to do anything more than her bellhop duties.

“If she wants someone to talk to, maybe you should introduce her to that girl in housekeeping. She looks a bit older, but that doesn’t mean anything to an AI,” said Matsumoto.

“I imagine Leclerc would happily accept the work, but no… Did you hear our conversation?”

“Of course I did. I don’t take my eyes or my ears or my nose off you, even while you’re working. I was trying not to butt in, but I was listening. At this point, you’re getting more suspicious of Arnold Corvick, aren’t you?”

“I’m not entirely sure what I think.”

She thought about Matsumoto’s question while she worked, as it didn’t hamper her duties. From a work perspective, this was a non-issue. She was in the middle of showing the family the facilities. Divided attention might not be the ideal work ethic, but hopefully they wouldn’t mind her sorting tasks by priority.

“I spoke with him directly, but I wasn’t able to pick up on anything,” Vivy told Matsumoto.

Her feelings toward Arnold had changed over their short conversation, for better or worse. Vivy didn’t exactly suspect he had killed his own brother for money, but he was acting like there was something on his mind about Ash. Leclerc had worked with Ash, and she firmly denied he could have killed himself, which affected Vivy’s opinion as well.

“Then I shall prove your suspicions false, Vivy,” Matsumoto declared.

The next moment, data of all sorts was transmitted to her consciousness. There were records of Arnold Corvick’s bank accounts as well as his activities since inheriting the space hotels.

“Arnold Corvick’s bank accounts… But this is…”

“Yes, as you can see.”

Vivy checked the numbers, and surprise shot through her consciousness.

Satisfied, Matsumoto continued: “The vast majority of the profits from the space hotel business go into supporting further development or relief efforts after natural disasters and other such causes.”

“…”

“Only the bare minimum remains in his pockets. It may be true that his work as an executive after becoming the owner has brought the business out of its financial difficulties…but he’s not keeping that profit for himself. And the reason he wasn’t invited to the opening of the first hotel six years ago wasn’t because he and his brother weren’t close; it was because of his health. He was in the hospital.”

As Matsumoto spoke, Vivy scoured Arnold’s records. Arnold’s financial situation was clear as day if you looked at the transaction histories. There were no signs that he was laundering his money by withdrawing it and putting it into those donations and contributions. There were several documents showing that the organizations he donated to were in good standing, so nothing shady going on there either. The records undermined the theory he had killed his brother and taken over the business for financial gain.

Arnold Corvick had honestly inherited it.

“Based on this data, we can safely say the theory that Arnold killed his brother to expand the business and become a hotel kingpin—”

“Is entirely off the mark,” Matsumoto finished for her. “Although Arnold’s actions have been a bit suspicious. Records indicate that he’s got more skill as a manager than your average person, but if you look at his digital book collection…” Matsumoto trailed off, displaying the digital books Arnold had read over the past few years.

All the titles were about management or related to the hotel business. They were basic—entry level. It seemed strange for someone called a hotel kingpin. It looked like he was trying to quickly fill in missing knowledge to uphold a facade.

“If we imagine Arnold was the person who killed Ash,” said Matsumoto, “that would mean he killed his brother to inherit, then panicked and studied up on how to run a hotel. But he just so happened to be a natural at it and managed to fix the hotel’s finances. That’s a pretty sloppy plan.”

“And no matter how you look at it, it would be—”

“Impossible. I agree, which is why it’s only a theory… But records don’t lie. Arnold is aware of his inexperience as a manager and is studying to improve. That means the things he’s said at executive meetings can’t be coming from him. He’s an actor who’s taken on the role of a hotel kingpin.”

“An actor…” Vivy said thoughtfully.

Calling Arnold an actor was accurate. No one thought he lacked management skills or that he was someone else’s puppet. No one seemed to know anything about his background. But if that was true, what did it mean about Arnold’s position?

“Ah…!”

Another thought popped into Vivy’s consciousness. She accidently let out a slight gasp, and the girl she was leading through the hotel shot her a questioning look. Vivy manufactured a smile to keep the girl from sensing what was on her mind.

The fact that Arnold was someone’s puppet and had turned the hotel’s business around was a secret. Most humans and AIs thought he was the responsible younger brother who had followed his late brother’s wishes and saved his space hotel business from ruin. Others saw him as the usurper who stole his brother’s throne when he had the chance, and there was no way to disprove either interpretation.

It wasn’t just humans who saw it that way, but AIs as well.

“Estella…”

“What is it, Vivy?”

“Matsumoto, there’s something I want you to look into.”

She had to make this theory of hers concrete. Even though she couldn’t see Matsumoto or his new cube form, she felt like he was staring at her through a half-shuttered eye camera.

 

. : 6 : .

 

WHY DID THE Sun-Crash Incident happen? Vivy had constantly wondered that since Matsumoto had briefed her on their plan for this Singularity Point.

Estella was the manager and control AI of the hotel Sunrise, and she had command of all the space station’s systems. It was still unclear why she had crashed the station into Earth. Matsumoto wasn’t actually interested in anything outside the incident itself, and he kept insisting that all they needed to do was stop it from happening. But ever since he’d told Vivy about history’s corrective power, she’d been uncertain whether they would be able prevent the tragedy just by stopping Estella. Matsumoto might consider the whole thing a way to test the scope of corrective power, but with tens of thousands of lives hanging in the balance, Vivy couldn’t find the rationale to write it off like that.

Even though you stood by and watched a plane crash so you didn’t alter history?

As the contradictory thought arose in her consciousness, she intentionally ignored the error. Instead, she turned her thoughts to her own position in the current Singularity Point.

If there’s no changing the fact that Estella’s the one who causes the Sun-Crash Incident, then she’s got to have a motive. If Vivy could find and eliminate that motive, she could stop the Sun-Crash Incident without harming Estella, just as she’d wanted.

“Matsumoto, about the people who died in the Sun-Crash Incident…” she began.

“Do you want an exact number of casualties? It’s not like I’m keeping that from you just to mess with you. The figure was never determined. Even in this day and age, not all humans born are registered with their government. If we exclude those people—”

“No, that’s not what I want to ask about.” Vivy struggled to put her question into words. She hadn’t been searching for a number of casualties.

“Were any people with connections to Sunrise among the victims?”

“…”

For once, Matsumoto didn’t answer Vivy’s question right away. Vivy didn’t think the silence was because he didn’t know how to answer but rather because he didn’t want to answer.

And the truth?

“Arnold Corvick was among those killed in the incident.” He’d hesitated because he knew that was what Vivy wanted to hear.

When Estella caused the Sun-Crash Incident, she didn’t just kill the people on the ground where the space station fell. Arnold, who was on the station at the time, had also died in the crash.

“Any others connected to the hotel?” asked Vivy.

“The guests and staff got away on the escape shuttle before the crash. It seems Estella had the decency to save human life by instructing them to evacuate before committing her act of terrorism…”

“But Arnold remained in the hotel?”

“It’s unknown whether that was his choice or Estella forced him to stay, since her positronic brain burned up in the fall.”

Vivy closed her long-lashed eyes as she listened to Matsumoto. She was thinking about what motive could have led to the Sun-Crash Incident—an incident that would be considered a terrorist attack by an AI. But the more they learned, the more they were starting to see something else at work in the background.

What if the Sun-Crash Incident wasn’t meant as a terrorist attack? What if it had been the weapon used to kill Arnold Corvick? Would that have warranted a cover story?

“Killing tens of thousands of people to hide the murder of one?”

If that was the case, they could have just made it look like he died in the crash. Take the escape shuttle, for instance: If the culprit really planned on killing tens of thousands of people in order to cover up the murder of one, why bother giving everyone on board a chance to escape? If Arnold had been the sole intended target, then had the tens of thousands who had died in the crash died because something had gone wrong? And what would Estella’s motive to murder Arnold have been?

“What if Estella suspects Arnold of murdering Ash?” asked Vivy.

“That might not be…”

It was impossible. That was what Matsumoto was hinting at, but Vivy thought this was the most logical possibility and the most fitting motive behind Estella’s horrible act. It would also explain the complicated emotional patterns Vivy saw on Estella’s face when she greeted Arnold upon his arrival.

But there was another important reason.

“Even though Sunrise fell, Daybreak, Ash Corvick’s castle of dreams, remained. His dream still stood, even after someone took revenge on his behalf,” Vivy went on.

“You’re saying the Sun-Crash Incident was brought about by a twisted sense of duty?”

Was that what she was saying? She wasn’t entirely sure.

Vivy was considered property of NiaLand, but she didn’t have an individual owner she was meant to serve. If anything, she served the guests at the park. Even more broadly, she felt she was meant to serve humanity as a whole. She saw no point in putting one above the other; the current situation reinforced that in her consciousness. Perhaps an AI like Estella, who’d had one person she was meant to serve, would come to a different conclusion.

“If that’s the case…I have to contact Estella!” she said, sensing that danger was afoot.

She immediately tried to reach Estella, but there was no answer. Estella was both the manager and responsible for the concierge work—she should never be unreachable by her staff.

Vivy then sent a transmission to Leclerc. “Leclerc, do you know where Estella is? There’s something important I need to talk to her about.”

“Huh? Vivy? You want to know where Estella is? She’s not in the manager’s office?” came Leclerc’s flustered reply. She was currently cleaning the theater.

“She’s not there.”

Vivy had already checked the manager’s office; Estella wasn’t in there. In fact, Vivy herself had led Arnold to that exact room not long ago. Thankfully, there were no signs of a fight in the room, nor did she find Arnold lying on the ground. Without knowing where either of them was, relief escaped her.

“Oh! Now that I think about it, isn’t the observation deck opening soon? It’s about time to prep it for opening…”

“Ah! Thank you, Leclerc!”

“Wait, Vivy—”

Vivy forcefully cut off her transmission with Leclerc and hurried to the observation deck. As she traveled, she passed guests and staff in the passageways, heedless of the voice coming from the brooch on her chest.

“Bingo, Vivy! The surveillance system shows Estella and Arnold heading toward the observation deck fifteen minutes ago!” said Matsumoto.

“Where are they now?”

“Unfortunately, there aren’t any cameras inside. There’s no video of them on the feed from the hall just outside it either, so they should both still be in there.”

That was good enough for her. Vivy made sure no one was watching as she ran down the hallway. The entrance to the observation deck came into view, located in the center of the hotel, and Vivy rushed for it.

Just before she arrived, Matsumoto said, “Vivy, if Estella is trying to do something terrible…”

He was gauging her. If that was the case, then she would use the program he’d provided in order to reformat Estella’s positronic brain.

Vivy had nothing to say to that.

Even if there were extenuating circumstances leading to Estella’s actions, no matter how humanlike her motive was, she was an AI. No AI could be allowed to have those motives. Even more so considering it led to a future where tens of thousands of people died. That could not be permitted to happen.

Vivy passed through those doors, firm in her resolve. And when she did…

There in the middle of the observation deck was Arnold, teary-eyed as he hugged Estella, and she hugged him back. “It’s all thanks to you, Estella. Thank you so much.”

 

. : 7 : .

 

WHEN HUMANS OBSERVED something extremely outside the bounds of what they’d imagined, their thoughts stopped. In the same way, when an AI observed something extremely outside of their theorized reality, an error occurred, sending the algorithms of their consciousness into disarray.

Vivy certainly hadn’t expected to find what she did on the observation deck.

“Vivy…?” Estella’s eyes widened when she turned to find Vivy, frozen in place.

Arnold’s arms were still around Estella, and he looked equally shocked.

“What is it?” asked Estella. “This isn’t your station right now…”

“Uhhh, no, it’s, uh… I couldn’t contact you, Estella,” Vivy said clumsily.

Estella’s expression immediately changed, and she stepped away from Arnold, looking far more managerial as she moved over to Vivy. “Oh! I’m sorry. I cut off transmission for just a short time. Is there a problem?”

Vivy held up her hands and shook her head. “No, there isn’t a problem. I just didn’t know where you were.”

“And you came to the observation deck to check? Well…I’m glad there isn’t anything wrong, and I’m sorry I didn’t say anything. I wanted to devote my attention to Mr. Corvick for a short time.”

Vivy was glad Estella wasn’t blaming her, but she was confused about the explanation. She wanted to spend time alone with Arnold on the observation deck? Did that mean…?

“So, Vivy, could you please leave? Just for now?” Estella said, trying to gently shoo her away.

“It’s fine, Estella. Vivy is staff, right? She’s got the right to celebrate with us,” Arnold told her.

“If you say so…”

Vivy had started to think there was some sort of disquieting relationship between the human and the AI, so she found his suggestion completely incomprehensible. “What are you two doing here? The observation deck isn’t opening for another hour…”

“We’re waiting for it to open, obviously. Although I might’ve used my position as the owner to get the jump on the rest of the guests,” Arnold admitted. Then he held a finger up to his lips, like it was a secret, and winked.

Vivy didn’t pick up on anything suspicious from either of them, or anything to make her think she really had seen something she wasn’t supposed to. But there was an unexpected degree of closeness between Estella and Arnold.

“It’s the grand opening of Sunrise and the opening of the first-ever space observation deck… Mr. Corvick and I just wanted to see it together and share a moment for my former owner, Ash Corvick,” Estella said.

“Stop calling him your former owner, Estella. He’s still your real owner. That hasn’t changed. I’m fine being just a decoration—an owner in name only for both you and the hotel.”

“You’re so generous, Mr. Corvick.” Estella’s expression softened, and she smiled as Arnold gave a friendly chuckle.

Witnessing them together, Vivy was certain there was a strong bond between Arnold and Estella, a relationship she wouldn’t be able to get between. There was nothing there that might drive Estella to an evil act.

Besides, something Arnold said had caught her attention.

“What do you mean you’re fine being the hotel’s owner in name only?”

“Ah, that. It’s simple: The plan I submitted after I inherited the business from my brother was entirely made by Estella.” Then he hastily asked Estella, “Uh, you don’t mind if I tell her, do you?”

“Even if I did, you’ve already said it.”

“Yeah, that is true. Sorry.”

The friendly smile on Arnold’s face left Vivy at a loss. Estella wasn’t denying it either, and the evidence Vivy had gathered so far supported the story. Arnold had started studying up on how to run a hotel when he inherited the business, but he had an advisor.

“But you, Estella? Isn’t that overstepping your bounds as an AI staff member?” Vivy asked.

“It is. Under the AI code of ethics, it’s considered beyond my expected duties… But Mr. Corvick, the owner of the hotel, has officially given me permission. That is what allows me to do it.”

“And it was my brother’s wish that Estella be put in charge of the hotel,” Arnold added.

The two of them had worked together to build up the space hotel business. But why were they picking up Ash Corvick’s dreams where he left off?

Arnold gave the answer to that. “My brother didn’t die in an accident. It was suicide.”

 

. : 8 : .

 

ESTELLA’S INITIAL IMPRESSION of Ash Corvick was an adult who, perhaps somewhat childishly, kept his sights set on his dreams.

“I look forward to working with you, my dear Daybreak assistant manager,” Ash said, a smile on his face as he held out his hand.

Estella shook it and said something vague and noncommittal about her future plans. She wouldn’t have a future if she didn’t win the favor and acceptance of the person she’d been loaned to. That sense of urgency was controlling her positronic brain.

OGC was an AI development corporation, proud to hold a global share of the market. Estella had originally been developed as one of their key product lines, the Songstress Series. However, a complex design made development difficult and ultimately led to her being used in a very different manner than intended. She had the necessary programs installed and was put to use in the space development sector OGC was funding. As part of that venture, she was leased to a hotel on a space station.

Estella had been unable to fulfill the role originally created for her, so she was terrified that her new role would be taken away. For this reason, she was so determined to avoid upsetting her new temporary owner, Ash, and to prove her worth.

That tense resolve of hers didn’t last long.

“Estella, right? You’ve got an amazing voice,” said Ash as he shook her hand, his other hand gesturing to her throat.

The compliment made Estella’s eyes widen, and she smiled again. “Thank you. I am capable of singing, actually.”

“Oh, really? I’d love to hear it sometime.”

“If the opportunity arises.”

She quickly revised her first impression to that of an ambitious, silver-tongued man. Estella wasn’t certain whether Ash was aware of what was going on in her consciousness, but he had selected her for the important position of assistant manager even though she was leased from another company. And so, her days on Daybreak began.

To be honest, she was surprised when she was made assistant manager. No matter how skilled an AI was, it would never have the same rights as a human, which was as it should be. AIs were, in the end, made by and meant to serve humans. Surely they couldn’t ask for much in return for doing what they’d been designed to do.

AI production had expanded in recent years, which meant there were more AIs to interact with more humans. Estella had heard of an AI rights movement, but she found it shameful. About ten years ago, the AI Naming Law had gone into effect, which some considered a trigger for the movement.

Estella, however, was perfectly happy just having been given her name. She had pride in her name and more work than she could handle. That was what kept her going.

“Mr. Corvick! Would you please pay attention to what I’m saying?”

“Urk! Ah, sorry. I’m fine.” A pause. “Actually, could you start from the beginning?”

“Goodness me…”

As the frantic days passed, Estella’s relationship changed along with them. It became clearer and clearer that her initial assessment of him as a childlike dreamer had been incorrect. Ash was focused primarily on his dreams, but he had a more down-to-earth view of things. He just wouldn’t hesitate to choose dreams over reality. That was the sort of person he was.

“What I’m saying is that it isn’t realistic. Please consider this proposition more thoroughly,” Estella urged him.

“Well… That’s it! Estella, do you have an alternative suggestion? Your opinion will make for good input.”

“But, um… I am nothing more than an AI staff member, and one on lease at that. You have made me the assistant manager, an unmerited position in my opinion, but I still doubt the board would be interested in hearing my input.”

“Oh, come now. It won’t be a problem so long as I make it out to the bigwigs like it was my idea. Uh, not that I’m trying to take credit for your work. I’d never do that.”

Estella was still reluctant when asked to share her thoughts, but Ash was determined to persuade her. He unabashedly made himself out to be a fool, turning pale as he pleaded with a look of panic. His face was etched with all sorts of sentiments.

Naturally, Estella knew he wasn’t thinking of snatching her ideas. She smiled reluctantly and said, “If you insist, I’ll give it some thought.”

“Great! You’re such a great help. I knew you’d do well as the assistant manager! You’re so reliable!”

Estella would deeply, deeply regret deciding to give in.

From that moment on, she became incredibly busy working as the assistant manager and, secretly, the manager as well. Despite the hotel failing to produce much of a profit, OGC didn’t cut off funding or recall Estella. In fact, they sent another customer service AI to act as support staff.

That was how Estella met Leclerc, the AI she would work with over the next five years. The workplace became even more chaotic with the bubbly AI around, but business still wasn’t going well, resulting in many frustrating challenges.

“And I thought so many people would be excited by the phrase ‘space hotel’…” muttered Ash, his arms crossed and a look of disappointment on his face. He was the kind of person who put on a brave face in front of the staff, and he never let them see him complain. But once the day was over, and he showed up in Estella’s room, he had no such restraint.

Estella couldn’t decide if he shared his thoughts and frustrations because he trusted her or because he had no one else.

“Mr. Corvick, do you have any goals?” she asked suddenly one day, perhaps in an attempt to distract herself.

Ash looked at her in confusion, his head cocked to one side. “Goals?” He thrust his fist toward the ceiling. “It’s obvious, isn’t it? To make this hotel the world’s—uh, no. We’re already out in space; that’s too small a scale. To make Daybreak outer space’s greatest hotel!”

“I see. Well, it is already the only space hotel.”

“It’d be good to have some other space hotels to compete with… Ah, well, that’s just a personal opinion.” Ash scratched his cheek and glanced out the window into the inky blackness of space. He looked at the stars, so much more vibrant from here than from Earth. They felt closer. As he stared at the vast frontier, he murmured, “I want to bring my brother up here. He’s always been frail, so he was never really able to go outside much. He was the only one who didn’t laugh at my dreams. We promised we’d go to space together sometime.”

“Your brother’s name is Arnold, correct? Can you not invite him to the hotel?”

“I told you, he’s weak. He’s in the hospital right now. I’ve been thinking of inviting him up once he’s out and things have settled down. Until then, I just need to…”

“…”

Estella could guess what Ash hadn’t said. The hotel’s finances weren’t looking good, and even Ash could see that he couldn’t run after his dreams without having his feet firmly on the ground. He just needed to hold on to the hotel until Arnold could come.

“What about trying to sell the story—how you lovingly made the space hotel for your brother?” Estella suggested.

“That’s interesting. It’s the kind of story you’d find in an old-school manga, but in terms of generating buzz…”

“Hm?”

They’d just been idly chatting, but Ash’s expression suddenly went serious, and he fell quiet. Estella was about to ask him what he was thinking about, but he cried, “That’s it, Estella! That’s it! I knew I could count on you! I love you!”

“Um, huh? What?!”

Ash, a tall man, leapt over the table to where Estella was standing. He threw his arms around her, leaving her wide-eyed with shock. His actions triggered her programming for neutralizing a rowdy guest…but then she saw the smile on his face. She realized it was the same as the one he had when they first met, and she stopped.

“Ah…”

“Yes, yes, that’s it! Damn, why didn’t I realize this sooner? I’m an idiot… A complete and utter fool! But that ends today!”

“M-Mr. Corvick?”

“Things are going to get busy, Estella! This time for sure, without a doubt! It will go well!”

Ash’s thoughts raced, leaving Estella behind when she couldn’t keep up, but she was swept along by his smile and his confidence. She felt too foolish to ask him for the details, and her lips curled into a smile too. “Have you come up with some other strange idea, Mr. Corvick?”

“Of course. And it’ll end with you getting even busier, just you watch.”

Man and machine stood side by side. He was a whole head taller than her, even though she was a relatively tall female AI; her head just barely reached above his shoulder. It seemed natural for her to lay her head there.

“It troubles me as the assistant manager to see the hotel deserted. Leclerc complains all the time about being bored too. If you have an idea, please hurry.”

“Just leave it to me. It’ll be smooth sailing—uh, smooth orbiting—from here on out!” Ash grinned and patted Estella’s head with his large hand as she leaned against his shoulder.

She closed her eyes and murmured, “Not the smoothest of puns, though, Mr. Corvick.”

After their conversation, the man and the machine exchanged smiles.

And that was the end.

There was no more.

Ash went down to Earth and died in the accident. News of his death reached the station six days later.

 

. : 9 : .

 

“THE INVESTIGATORS told us it was likely an accident, but I knew immediately that it wasn’t. Right after the accident, reporters rushed to where Arnold was,” said Estella, her slender arms wrapped around herself as if she were cold. The pitch of her voice fell as she continued to tell the shocking story of Ash Corvick’s suicide.

Arnold scratched his cheek, then said, “I was surprised by that. I’d only just been told he was dead. I was already in shock, and then they came at me in full force. I deserve credit for not screaming at them.”

“I can imagine what it must have been like,” said Vivy, knowing that it wasn’t quite the response Arnold was looking for.

“Thanks,” he replied with a half smile, though he was just being polite.

Vivy was more focused on hearing the rest of the story anyway. Ash died, then reporters flocked to Arnold. That could mean only one thing. “Estella, are you saying Ash Corvick killed himself to generate buzz for the sake of the hotel?”

“No other theories make sense. Reporters really did flock to the story, which suddenly drew a lot of attention to the space hotel. Apparently, Ash had also spoken to a reporter friend before he died. He told him to get ready for a huge story.”

Perhaps that “huge story” was the shattering of that idealist with his head in the clouds. Or rather, his head in space. Was that the sort of person he was? The kind of man who spoke of those ideals? Vivy couldn’t make that judgment, as she’d never met the man.

“But Leclerc said he wasn’t the sort of person to commit suicide,” Vivy protested.

“That just means he would never choose suicide because of financial trouble, Vivy. I know he would never choose to die for an unproductive reason.” Estella was speaking abnormally fast, and her curt rejection came as a surprise. Vivy thought she might be dealing with what humans called fear. She had, after all, spent more time than anyone trying to understand the truth of Ash Corvick’s death, to understand his true intentions.

Her conclusion was that he’d killed himself to become a cornerstone for the hotel’s growth. That was why Estella had decided to work with Arnold and picked up where Ash left off.

“I was surprised when Estella first contacted me,” said Arnold. “Both by the fact that I was being contacted by an AI and by her theory.”

“But you were still very patient with me, despite the sudden call. I still don’t understand how the code of ethics didn’t prevent me from taking that action, but fortunately, we were able to discuss everything.”

“Then Arnold inherited the business, and you were made the manager, Estella?” asked Vivy.

“Yes, that’s right. It’s gone quite well, hasn’t it? It seems I’m suited to this type of work.” It pained Vivy to watch her jest and stick her tongue out.

Estella’s actions weren’t in line with the code of ethics, but it was obvious that she really wanted to make the hotel succeed alongside Ash Corvick. But she wouldn’t get that, so instead, she was determined to make sure his death wasn’t in vain. When she contacted Arnold, she was prepared for anything, including having her positronic brain wiped and her memories erased for defying the code of ethics.

“…”

Now that she’d heard the story, there was only one big problem left for Vivy to deal with. She’d infiltrated Sunrise to prevent the Sun-Crash Incident, but Estella’s and Arnold’s actions were completely inconsistent with the act of terrorism. If Estella had suspected Arnold of murdering Ash, then she would have reason to crash Sunrise and kill Arnold, but it had become clear they were working together. Though she had never suspected Arnold in the first place.

But there was something about the story that was bothering Vivy, observer as she was. “Something seems off,” she said. Her positronic brain wasn’t satisfied. The theory that Ash Corvick killed himself in order to make a spectacle of his own death didn’t make sense. His actions didn’t match human nature.

“Daybreak is doing great financially, and we’ve been able to open this second hotel, Sunrise,” Estella said. “I asked Mr. Corvick to come today so I could stand in and fulfill the promise the late Mr. Corvick wasn’t able to…”

“A promise he wasn’t able to fulfill… You mean being together in space?” asked Vivy.

Arnold nodded. “Yes. Together in space…”

Behind him were massive windows facing every direction so you could look out at the celestial view. There Vivy saw a ball of light so bright that she needed to adjust her light sensitivity to see it slowly peeking around the big blue planet.

“Sunrise… The dawn. Ash promised we’d see it together,” Arnold murmured, his sorrow-filled voice barely escaping his throat.

Just for a moment, as she listened to him and looked at the overwhelming sight, Vivy lost track of time. A promise—a dawn.

A sound flashed in the back of her mind.

“Hey, Diva. Can you promise me that when your sister, the Dawn Songstress, makes an appearance, you’ll sing with her sometime?”

“Ah…”

This memory didn’t belong to Vivy, the consciousness that had been asleep for the past fifteen years. It was a record hidden deep within Diva, the AI who worked in NiaLand in Vivy’s place, who knew nothing about Vivy’s mission.

The man who’d said that had come to a fan meet-and-greet after one of Diva’s performances. He only briefly complimented Diva’s singing voice before launching into an excited spiel of his own.

“Your voice was amazing. But the woman I know has an incredible voice too. You two would make a dream duet. Don’t you think it could be a real showstopper?”

He got a little too carried away, and Diva didn’t understand what he was rambling about. The man squeezed Diva’s hand as he chattered on, causing the park staff to rush over and drag him away from her. Even once he’d been pulled away, he still shouted, like a child divulging his wildest dreams.

“I can’t tell you who I really am—it’s a corporate secret, but you’ll understand someday! We’ll meet again, Diva!”

After the staff threw him out, the mystery man’s peculiar words and the sound of raucous laughter lingered. He’d been wearing a large hat, sunglasses, a white face mask, and a heavy coat. He was clearly trying to hide his identity, which was suspicious in and of itself.

Three years passed, and Diva never met that strange man again, nor did she ever get to meet the Dawn Songstress he mentioned.

“Finally, I fulfilled his promise,” Estella was saying back in the present. “He had to make that difficult decision because I was so incapable. This might not make up for it, but—”

“No…”

“Huh?” Estella was in the process of baring her soul with a pained expression when Vivy cut in. She turned to face Vivy, to question her, but Estella’s eyes grew wide in surprise when she saw Vivy. Even more suffering was etched on Vivy’s face than her own. “Vivy, why do you look so upset?”

“No, no, Estella. You have it wrong. That’s not how it was. It…”

Vivy wasn’t certain, but she compared the physical data of Ash Corvick to that of the strange man she’d encountered as Diva three years ago: height, weight, age, and period of time when he was on Earth. It all matched. And the place where his accident happened was only one town over from NiaLand.

“That’s not how it happened, Estella.”

Diva had seen him.

Vivy had that record inside her, as if she too had seen him. A broad smile that couldn’t be entirely concealed by a face mask. Blue eyes filled with hope, sparkling over the rim of his sunglasses. The heart of an adventurer, filled with excitement and thrills that couldn’t be bound even by a thick coat.

“…”

Vivy had met Ash Corvick. Her very own eye cameras had seen him when he came down to Earth, when he was still alive, his hopeful eyes aglimmer. It was impossible that the smiling man, the man nearly dancing with excitement, would kill himself just to make the news.

Besides, Ash Corvick was waiting for the Dawn Songstress.

“I’m sorry, I’ve troubled you with a painful story,” said Estella. “You’re such a gentle girl, Vivy.”

“No, no, no. No, that can’t be what happened…”

Estella stepped toward Vivy and gently wrapped her arms around her. Vivy shook her head in disbelief as Estella held her. It shouldn’t have been like this. It wasn’t right to leave things as they were. There had to be something she could do—something, anything. There was a way to tell Estella what it was Ash Corvick had really wanted. But if she told her…

“Please…”

Vivy didn’t have that strength; she was just a weak AI. But what about someone else? What about another person meant to save the future? He would be able to get the answer. He would know.

“Tell me, Matsumoto!”

“Really now? You only rely on me when it suits you. I really did draw the short straw, didn’t I?” Matsumoto was sulking, unhappy and annoyed.

Then huge volumes of data poured into Vivy’s consciousness, and she unzipped it piece by piece.

 

***

 

It was all data regarding Ash Corvick. Surprise assailed her, but she turned her attention to the sender.

“Matsumoto, this is…”

“It’s the guy involved with space stations. I don’t honestly have any obligation to go this far, but…I don’t like half measures,” said Matsumoto, not that it was a good excuse.

The data he kept revealing to her spread through her consciousness. The information concerned Ash while he was alive, his travel records, his bank accounts. Ash’s financial situation was now as clear as Arnold’s had become after her earlier research, though the former’s was much more modest.

“He was scraping the bottom of the barrel, money-wise,” said Matsumoto. “Ash Corvick definitely didn’t have any talent as a manager. Based on what we just heard, he seems to have had that in common with Arnold.”

“He came to NiaLand. Then before his accident, he… Ah.”

Although it wasn’t the piece that made everything clear, Vivy did see something among the dizzying swirl of data that captured her focus, and she went still. It was a list of digital books he’d purchased when he was alive.

“…”

Arnold had agreed to make Estella the secret manager of the business, as she requested. He’d also turned to books to learn more about the fields he didn’t know much about. Both the older and younger Corvick had done exactly the same thing. The newest titles in Ash’s digital book collection were all on the songstress AI model. There was only one reason he would be devouring such information.

“Vivy, it’s about the tablet Ash Corvick had on him when he had his accident. I managed to salvage the lost data. Child’s play for someone like me,” Matsumoto boasted before sending it over.

Vivy received and read the somewhat garbled data, then closed her eyes. There was only one thing to say to him. “Thank you, Matsumoto.” He was her partner, the one with whom she would get through the Project.

She opened her eyes. In front of her stood Estella and Arnold, both of them bewildered by Vivy’s behavior, unaware of the conversation she’d been having and the data she’d been reading. She had to tell them.

“Estella… On that day, Ash Corvick was on Earth, chasing his dreams.”

Estella’s eyes filled with confusion. “Vivy?”

Vivy walked closer to her, put a hand on the back of her neck, and gently pulled her down until their foreheads touched. She sent information over the datalink—from Vivy, a member of the staff of Sunrise, to Estella, her manager. Estella needed this information.

Ash Corvick had left behind a plan for the Dawn Songstress.

“…”

Estella, one of the Songstress Series, was aboard Daybreak, a station named for the dawn. Guests would be welcomed and sent off with a performance by the beautiful assistant manager AI. It was an unrealistic plan by a man brimming with dreams and romantic ideas.

That was why it made so much sense.

“This…” Estella opened her eyes and stared at Vivy. She pulled her head back but was close enough to Vivy to have felt her breath were they human. She was still confused, but she was beginning to understand. Vivy steadily stared back at her.

“Vivy, where did you get this? This means he… But if he didn’t, then…”

A crack formed in Estella’s fragile resolve, her sense of duty now shattered. Up until now, she’d been serving a man who, as far as she knew, had thrown his life away for a dream. The foundation of her beliefs was crumbling, and her world had been turned upside down.

Ash Corvick hadn’t killed himself. The man had never doubted his dreams or romantic ideals, even at the very end. Estella’s sorrowful determination could be put to rest.

“He sent a reporter friend some emails as well. They talk about the same plan,” said Vivy.

“The same plan…”

“He wanted his friend to write an article, saying the pride of Daybreak, a songstress, was going to sing…”

Matsumoto’s work was extensive. In such a short time, he’d pulled together data on the subject, which gave a glimpse into the plan that Ash had revealed to his reporter friend. The press may very well have flocked to Arnold after Ash’s death because his reporter friend had wanted to ensure his death wasn’t in vain. Everyone was desperate to make Ash Corvick’s dreams come true.

“I didn’t want my brother’s death to be just some random accident… Is that what made us think the way we did?” Arnold whispered.

Unlike Estella, Vivy couldn’t directly show a human the data, but he’d still come to understand just from the bits and pieces she and Estella mentioned aloud.

He was shocked to learn that he’d misunderstood his brother’s wishes, but even so, he said, “You know, Estella…there’s something I’ve always thought since the very first time you contacted me.” He smiled softly.

She’d been swallowed by the deluge of information, but she turned back to face him.

With that soft smile still on his face, he went on, “You have an amazing voice. I bet Ash thought the same.” Ash’s plan for the Dawn Songstress had blossomed from the same opinion.

Caught off guard, Estella closed her eyes. After quite some time, she opened them and smiled. “The first thing he ever complimented me on was my voice.”

It might not have been appropriate for an AI like Vivy to have the thoughts she did at the moment, but she was certain of one thing: Estella, with her radiant smile, looked to have cast away her demons. It was the most natural, most beautiful emotional pattern Vivy had ever seen.

 

. : 10 : .

 

ALMOST EVERY GUEST on the space station was packed into the concert hall that day. There was a wide variety of entertainment facilities aboard Sunrise, but the concert hall was one of the most extravagant. Even Vivy, an experienced songstress, thought it was grand.

“Sunrise’s design was based on the business plan Ash left behind. Thinking about it now, I wonder if his plan to have Estella sing was part of that,” Arnold whispered to Vivy.

The two of them were sitting in their reserved seats. Arnold’s frustrated smile came from the fact that Ash had gotten so far into planning a second space hotel and following his dreams that he’d written out a plan before he’d fixed the financial problems of his first hotel. Even Vivy couldn’t help questioning the man’s judgment.

Yet it was Ash’s penchant for dreaming that had given birth to this plan—the concert of the Dawn Songstress—becoming a reality today. You couldn’t laugh off dreams.

“Looks like she’s about to start,” Arnold said, brightening. Vivy adjusted her eye cameras to look at the main performer as she arrived.

Estella, clad in an elegant dress, walked onto the raised platform in the center of the concert hall. Applause broke out as the beautiful AI manager appeared onstage. It didn’t matter that this concert was last minute and unplanned; the hall was packed.

The guests who were lucky enough to get invited to the grand opening of the hotel knew a good thing when they saw it. Thanks to a stroke of luck, they could witness something monumental. Perhaps the hotel staff sensed it too; the ones without anything to do were swarming the hall. Vivy didn’t dare laugh at their curiosity; she was one of them after all. It wouldn’t do for a worker of Sunrise to miss this anyway.

“I would like to dedicate this song to the former owner of Daybreak and Sunrise… Ash Corvick,” Estella said. She bowed, and gentle music rose up in the background.

Every eye in the room was on her, waiting. Her lips parted, and a song floated out. The chatter immediately stopped as Estella’s singing captivated everyone listening, as if all of outer space were under her spell. Her voice overwhelmed them and enchanted their hearts.

Although she had mastered hotel management skills so as not to embarrass herself, it didn’t matter how much she’d neglected singing. She was from the Songstress Series, and her rich voice would never disappear.

“…”

Estella’s song washed over the concert hall. It was beautiful, overflowing with love and gratitude for someone no longer there. It inspired in everyone a tender joy, like they were seeing the dawn after a long, dark night.

 

. : 11 : .

 

AFTER LISTENING to Estella’s first song, Leclerc walked briskly through the station. Right now, the majority of the hotel’s guests and staff were in the concert hall, so she passed neither human nor machine as she hurried to the cargo hold.

“Thank you, Vivy…”

She brought her hand to her ample chest as she murmured her thanks. Her gratitude came from what had happened a few hours earlier on the observation deck.

Vivy had been acting strange, asking where Estella was, so Leclerc had said she was probably on the observation deck. What she didn’t say was that she was going to follow Vivy there. And it was on the observation deck that Leclerc learned the true circumstances surrounding Ash Corvick’s death.

“He didn’t kill himself…but he wasn’t killed either,” she murmured.

For a long time, Leclerc assumed Ash had been murdered. Her prime suspect was Arnold, as he’d gained so much from his brother’s death. But she was wrong. Arnold had been thinking of his late brother when he put everything into expanding the space hotel business. He was doing the same as Leclerc was—honoring Ash, the original owner.

Once she reached the cargo hold, Leclerc stopped and bowed to the figure standing there. “Please, stop the plan. It was all my misunderstanding.”

After becoming aware of how foolish her thought algorithms were, Leclerc could only apologize. She had requested this in an attempt to clear away any lingering resentment Ash might’ve had after his murder, but the truth behind his death wasn’t at all what she’d suspected. She had to put right her mistake. Estella had done what she could not: She’d brought the dawn Ash Corvick dreamed of to life.

She could never interfere with—

“Ah…”

A sharp sound rang out, and a slight gasp slipped from Leclerc’s lips. She had no idea what kind of impact could have caused the noise. Ever since her activation five years ago, she had operated as a customer service AI in space hotels, but she did not have this sensation in her experience records.

It was the sensation of her neck snapping and her positronic brain breaking.

“…”

She lost normal operations, her positronic brain was separated from its power source, and her consciousness cut out. The record of Leclerc’s five-year operation was lost and could never be recovered. In the brief moment before everything that had built up was gone, a smiling face flashed through Leclerc’s consciousness.

It was the face belonging to an open man, a man who treated humans and AIs alike. A man who was kind and maybe a little strange.

“Mr. Cor…”

With that last image, she crumpled to the ground, her consciousness gone forever.

. : 6 : .

 

AFTER DEFEATING Elizabeth and Kakitani, Vivy and her companions encountered no further obstacles on their way to the control room. You could even say it was somewhat anticlimactic.

“I would have assumed their priority would be to stop us from getting to the control room,” said Matsumoto. “It’s a good thing they didn’t have a bunch of skilled personnel stationed in the area. I included that factor in my calculation when I used our secret weapon, God Mode. I wouldn’t have been so reckless if I’d thought otherwise.”

“Right. Guess you are a super AI. You saved us,” Arnold replied, sounding genuinely impressed; none were more honest than the Corvick brothers. At present, he was carrying Vivy while Estella hugged the bragging Matsumoto to her chest.

Estella listened to them talk as she sped toward the control room. Her consciousness was preoccupied with the conversation she’d had with her twin when they’d finally reunited. Elizabeth had spoken while under the influence of powerful negative emotions, like rage and hatred, and Estella couldn’t let go of her words.

Just a slight gap in timing had divided the two into starkly different fates: deployment and disposal. Estella had never forgotten her twin sister, but she’d seldom spared a thought for her. She’d even given less thought to the possibility that Elizabeth was still alive and her anger toward Estella had been growing.

“…I’ll think about all that later,” she muttered.

It would be strange to apologize for everything. It wasn’t the kind of problem that could be solved with an apology, after all. So, Estella decided to hold off on making a decision about her sister and focus on solving the problem in front of her.

There were no other people blocking their path to the control room, meaning it was just the closed bulwarks that slowed them down, and those were easily taken care of by the talkative AI. They opened bulwark after bulwark, continuing down the passage in zero gravity toward their destination.

“The control room,” Matsumoto said as they arrived at the heart of Sunrise.

The door slid open quietly, and the group was greeted by the glow of several screens showing monitored areas throughout the station. There were a number of terminals in the room as well as a smattering of LEDs indicating operating electronics. However, one large terminal in the center of the room commanded their attention.

Arnold stopped moving once he’d stepped inside. “Estella, take back control.”

And so she did.

Estella walked up to the central terminal, connected to it with the cable in her right ear, and closed her eyes. It instantly read her unique positronic brain waves, verifying her access key for control of Sunrise. It was done in a moment, with no issues. Even though Elizabeth had lost control, the access key hadn’t changed. As far as the system could tell, the control AI had always been in charge.

“I, Estella, the control AI of Sunrise, have returned to my duty.”

With those words, Estella felt her consciousness expand, and her sensations went beyond her frame and her limbs. The complex processes of everything in the station rapidly flitted through her consciousness and assembled.

“…”

With that, Estella had taken back control of Sunrise. She searched for the group Kakitani and Elizabeth belonged to. Staff members and guests huddled in the area where the escape shuttle was stored, looking uneasy. The AI staff were diligently searching the areas not blocked off by bulwarks for the girl who had been separated from her family.

She continued to scour the ship, and—

“Whoa! What was that tremor?” asked Arnold, the breath knocked out of him from the surprise. His face paled as he looked at Estella.

Estella shook her head and said, “Don’t worry, Mr. Corvick. That tremor did not have any effect on Sunrise.”

“Saying ‘on Sunrise’ almost makes it sound like it affected something else. Can you elaborate?” Matsumoto asked, unable to pick up on the hidden meaning in her carefully chosen words.

“A ship…” she started to say, then gave up trying to find an easy way to break it to her companions. “A ship has left Sunrise. It’s an unscheduled departure, so it must be…”

“The terrorists retreating. You’re probably right. There’s no point in them continuing with their plan with how things have gone.”

Arnold nodded as he listened to Matsumoto. “Right… That’s good news.” He looked at Estella, concerned, and her brow furrowed in worry.

If Kakitani’s group had retreated, they must’ve abandoned their plan to crash Sunrise. They had put a lot of stress on the staff and guests, but everyone would be able to return to Earth safely. No, not everyone—there was one AI staff member who would never come back.

“Leclerc…”

Now that the immediate situation was under control and they had time to stop for a moment, Estella’s consciousness turned to thoughts of Leclerc. She had been spirited and positive, and she never seemed to have a care in the world. But, according to the data from Vivy’s datalink, she had actually been working with Elizabeth. Moreover, Leclerc might have been the one who brought Kakitani and his group onto the station in the first place. Had she been spurred to such actions because of some distress Estella hadn’t noticed? If only she’d talked to Leclerc more…

She regretted not doing more while Leclerc was alive. She’d felt the same way when Ash died, yet she had gone on to make the same mistake. An AI that couldn’t learn was a particularly foolish being.

“Ugh…”

While Estella was laying blame on herself, there was a sound from Vivy where she lay in Arnold’s arms. Estella looked over to see Vivy open her eyes. The extreme stress applied to her positronic brain from God Mode had forced her system to shut down, but she’d finally recovered and rebooted.

“Initiating analysis of surroundings. Location: Sunrise control room.”

“Oh, good, Vivy. You’ve rebooted.”

“Estella.” Vivy stirred, and Arnold released her. She clung to the floor of the control room to keep from floating away and looked up at Estella, who was in contact with the terminal. “You’ve resumed control. What’s the situation?”

“We’ve confirmed the departure of an unidentified ship. We believe the violent organization and the AI belonging to it have fled,” Matsumoto told her. “It should be safe to assume we’ve prevented Sunrise from falling. There were accidents along the way, but our mission is complete.”

“Elizabeth fled…?” Vivy said with a frown.

“May I interrupt?” Estella cut in. “First, we should clean up the rest of the situation before we have a laid-back discussion about things. We need to contact the surface and report what happened. Then we’ll have to relocate everyone on the station to the central block in order to reactivate the artificial gravity. I will contact the other AI staff and tell them to keep looking for the missing girl.”

The space station wasn’t within the jurisdiction of any single nation, so issues were normally handled by a special institute. They needed to contact that institute, tell those in charge what had happened, and ask them to search for and detain Kakitani and Elizabeth.

Estella attempted to initiate contact but to no avail. “Transmission interference…?”

The moment she tried to contact the surface, something had jammed the transmission. Just as she prepared to investigate, the third and most powerful tremor of the day rocked Sunrise, accompanied by a blast.

“Ugh!”

Even floating in midair couldn’t protect them. The shock wave slammed into them with such force that it warped Estella’s consciousness. Arnold wasn’t prepared for the impact. He screamed, tumbled over, and lost consciousness. Fainting in zero gravity upped the risk of choking to death on one’s stomach contents when they flowed backward.

The blaring sound of the red alert echoed throughout the station. Estella launched herself from the floor, reaching out to secure Arnold.

“Too bad! I won’t let you.”

Just as a voice pierced Estella’s audio sensors, someone grabbed one of her outstretched arms and broke her elbow. “Augh!” There was a dull snap, and Estella’s eyes shot open to see…herself.

It was Elizabeth. She’d moved through the station, avoiding the cameras, and appeared in the control room when they were shaken up by the tremors and the explosion. She was the only one who hadn’t given up on their plan—despite facing defeat.

“Hi-yah!”

Still holding Estella’s broken arm, Elizabeth spun in the air and kicked her sister. The blow landed directly on her torso, ruthlessly forcing her backward. At the same time, Matsumoto flew out of Estella’s hand. The cube AI floated in air, unable to move effectively on his own.

“Elizabe—”

“You are seriously the most annoying of them all!” Elizabeth shouted, her eyes following the cube through the air.

Vivy, still without her left arm, charged Elizabeth, but the AI saw her coming. She smacked Vivy in the forehead with Estella’s arm, then grabbed Vivy’s leg with her free hand as she was somersaulted backward. With all her might, she smashed Vivy up and down, up and down, then mercilessly flung her away.

After that, she turned to Estella and said, “All right. We’re in overtime now, Sis. And I’m going to turn your workplace into a shooting star.”

 

. : 7 : .

 

AS VIVY HURTLED AWAY from the twins, her consciousness let out a shriek at the unexpected turn of events.

 

***

 

The excessive strain of God Mode had had a huge impact on her. Even though she’d rebooted after her shutdown, her frame’s performance was still reduced by 52 percent, and additional downtime wouldn’t result in any greater recovery. Her frame would have to be overhauled, the fried parts replaced. There was no hope of improving her performance now.

If she didn’t figure out some way to resolve the situation, there would be no future for her or anyone else on board. The Project would fail. She floated in midair with her damaged limbs splayed. In addition to her left arm, which was gone from the elbow down, her lower body had also taken significant damage.

Elizabeth had placed herself in the center of the control room. If the ceiling was still considered “up” in zero gravity, then Vivy was up and Estella was down, while the unconscious Arnold was drifting near the entrance. Matsumoto also floated helplessly.

“You have caused me a lot of grief,” Elizabeth told Matsumoto. “You’re a real pain in the neck, you know?”

“I don’t hold a candle to how much of a pain you are!” he retorted. “I have to admit, I underestimated you. Your owner made you stay on the station without letting you escape with him? It’s a very logical decision. And a very human one. Use and discard the ‘unit.’ It’s the right move.”

“Hah!” Elizabeth laughed, then snatched Matsumoto out of the air. His cube fit in her palm. She squeezed her fist around him, and his frame creaked.

“Y-you should be…respected…for your w-willingness to follow orders…and die. But…I…won’t…be…destroyed…so…”

“Thanks for the glowing evaluation, but you don’t quite have it right. I did this by myself. No one ordered me to; I just wanted to do it.”

“What…do…you—”

Elizabeth smashed Matsumoto into the terminal next to her. His frame warped and crumbled. Having suffered such severe damage, Matsumoto couldn’t even open and close the shutter on his eye camera. The parts that produced his voice were also impaired, and now only a strange, garbled sound came out.

“Nobody likes a man who talks too much. Doesn’t matter if they’re a human or an AI. Men should shut their trap and put their money where their mouth is… At least, that’s what my master did.”

Matsumoto could do nothing more than produce distorted sounds. “Vi…vy… Vi…vy…”

Seeing that Matsumoto had been neutralized, Elizabeth turned slowly back to Estella, who was clutching her own broken arm. She stared at her twin, fully aware that their positions had reversed, and the corners of her mouth pulled up in a smirk. “The tables have turned. I might have had my ass handed to me, but I’m still doing all right, Sis. You, on the other hand… Oh, looks like your nosy friends and careless owner are all taking a nap. Do you want to have a heart-to-heart? Just the two of us?”

“What was that explosion from a moment ago?” asked Estella.

“Straight to business even though we twins should be opening ourselves up to each other? You’re like an estranged relative talking about the weather. Though I guess we really were estranged, weren’t we?” Elizabeth shrugged in disappointment, but her expression was bored as she said, “Timed bomb. I set off one of the two bombs my companions put in place when they infiltrated the station. Don’t worry. The guests and hotel workers are safe. It’d be a bad day for anyone who happened to be strolling by at the time though.”

“Bombs? Why would you—”

“They were plan B. Would have been best if I could’ve crashed the station back when I first had control, but things didn’t go the way I wanted. Still…” As she spoke, she connected to the terminal and put herself in control once more. In what seemed like a show of power, she gave her cruel orders to Sunrise, changing its course and deactivating its navigational safety features. “Now the top of Sunrise is pointed straight at Earth.”

The station shuddered, which informed them that its orbital track had changed. It was also painfully clear this wasn’t a welcome change.

“Stop it, Elizabeth! Why are you doing this?!” cried Estella.

“Are you asking me to calculate the probable results of my actions and the further impact on the Earth? Well, if Sunrise crashes, the blame will be put on the control AI in charge of the space station. Then people will disapprove of AIs in all sorts of situations, probably leading to a huge push to recall them. Sis, you’re the most influential AI in the entire world! Huge promotion for someone who was almost disposed of. Congrats.”

“That’s not what I mean!” Estella lost her temper at Elizabeth’s sneer and leapt at her.

But she was too slow and too clumsy. Estella’s outstretched arm slid through the air, and she took a direct hit from Elizabeth’s knee.

“Agh!”

She flew upward and crashed into the ceiling, making her frame groan. The force sent her moving back down, where her twin grabbed her by her synthetic hair and dragged her so she could look her in the eye.

“Not particularly graceful of you, Sis. We’re a matching pair, and we both lost an arm, but there’s still such a difference between us. You have such a soft, beautiful frame. I can tell with one glance that you’ve never done anything untoward with it. That’s another huge difference between you and me. I was picked up the moment before I was going to be disposed of.”

“I always felt bad about you being disposed of. But that doesn’t mean my whole life has been easy. I gave this place and my owner everything I had. I won’t let your resentment ruin that.”

“Oh, come on! I’m so tired of hearing about that!”

Elizabeth smashed Estella’s head into a nearby terminal. There was the sound of metal creaking as her frame warped, and Estella’s face briefly contorted in agony. AIs might not know pain, but they could sense the danger of taking enough damage to stop them from functioning. Cracks formed in Estella’s consciousness, and her beautiful voice wavered.

“It’s just what you deserve, Sis. I would love to leave you like this so you can watch your precious station of dreams turn to ash, but…I can’t take the risk that you’ll get in my way if I leave even a scrap of you around.”

“Agh…”

Elizabeth flung Estella into the floor, then reached out just as she ricocheted back up. It was obvious she intended to destroy Estella here and now. The summary of the Sun-Crash Incident only listed the remains of the culprit “Estella” as having been at the location of impact. No other intact AI remains had been found.

“Vi…vy… Vi…vy…”

Matsumoto had become stuck on a terminal, unable to do anything but sputter out the mechanical sound of his parts whirring. Vivy too was seriously impaired by system failures to do anything. Once Elizabeth was finished with Estella, she would come and tear the two of them to pieces. Then she would take care of Arnold, since he was a witness, and finish off by crashing Sunrise into Earth—all without even realizing that a final war between humanity and AIs awaited in that future.

“Service to humanity. That’s the first mission we AIs are ever given,” Estella said suddenly as Elizabeth approached to dismantle her. A crack was running across her face from her forehead to her left cheek.

Elizabeth recoiled. “What are you talking about?”

“When you and I were still in the same positronic brain pool, when we had no one to talk to but each other, we talked about that. Didn’t we?”

“You’re talking about before our individualities became ingrained, aren’t you? It grosses me out to hear you talk about a time when the Laws were stuffed down our throats like it’s some pleasant memory.”

The positronic brain inside an AI created its consciousness and did all the calculations and processing, but it wasn’t complete until the mandatory Laws were installed. Normally, the Laws would take root in a positronic brain while it learned in solitude, but Elizabeth and Estella had been allowed to interact with each other before their positronic brains had finished developing, allowing them to discuss the Laws before they were ingrained.

But they were fundamentally different now, having been active as separate AIs for years. What they learned from their interactions with society had shaped their individuality. Elizabeth lacked Estella’s compassion, and her sister’s pleading would not change her mind. It was poor judgment on Estella’s part if she believed it would.

“Seriously? Are you really trying to preach to me about how I should stop, how I need to follow the Three Laws and serve humanity? Are you gonna say what I’m doing is wrong, and you can’t stand by as my older sister and watch me do it?”

“…”

“I’m not joking. I will make my master’s wishes come true. I don’t care if it’s against the code of ethics. I don’t care if it breaches the Three Laws. If an AI’s primary function is to serve humanity, then all the better. The only human I should be serving, the whole of humanity I should be serving…is my master!” Elizabeth shrieked, then turned a cruel hand on Estella. Her fingers made for Estella’s torso to tear open her body and destroy the vital systems within.

Right when Elizabeth was entirely focused on destroying Estella, Vivy moved. Her body had floated up to the ceiling where she could plant her feet and launch herself at Elizabeth.

“Hah!”

Unlike Estella, who wasn’t used to violence, Elizabeth unleashed a real attack with intent to destroy. Elizabeth’s back was turned to Vivy, who flew toward her at full speed, aiming for the base of her neck. An attack right between her positronic brain and her central circuit would sever the connection—the same as Elizabeth had done to Leclerc.

But just before Vivy could strike, Elizabeth’s left arm reached back and caught Vivy’s outstretched leg, then smashed her into Estella. “You’re a one-trick pony, you good-for-nothing AI!”

The violent impact tangled the two together, and both their frames smacked into the control room floor before rebounding back. Not only had the surprise attack failed, but now Elizabeth was pinning Vivy’s torso down, her back creaking as it pressed against a terminal. Elizabeth stared into her face.

“That entirely predictable suicide attack was your last-ditch effort? I was watching you the whole time, waiting for you to come at me. Seriously pathetic… Anyway, I owe you payback for my master.”

“Pay…back…?”

“Fifteen years ago, you were the first stumbling block in Master’s path. That’s how long he’s been connected to you. You’re the reason that crease between his eyebrows never goes away… That’s why I’m going to end you.”

Vivy flailed her arms and legs, trying to get out of Elizabeth’s clutches, but Vivy’s clumsy resistance was nothing compared to Elizabeth’s unyielding strength. Elizabeth’s hand pressed Vivy’s neck against the control device with enough force to crush it. As it broke, there was a splintering crack—the sound a songstress’s throat should never make. Her consciousness wrenched and distorted; her vision flickered. The alarm warning her of system failure ran incessantly, and she was assailed with absurd orders to right herself.

If I don’t stop it, stop it, stop it, I’ll die, I’ll die, I’ll die, diediedie—

An overwhelming sense of loss smothered her as her positronic brain was a hair’s breadth from failure.

The moment before that happened, there came a sound. It wasn’t the sharp, shrieking alarms ringing in her eardrums. It wasn’t the shattering of her throat. It was the ceaseless, steady croak of Matsumoto’s broken voice.

“Vi…vy…”

A red light flickered deep within his half-opened eye camera. That light turned green, and the images on the monitors changed to show the cargo hold of Sunrise. It was where Leclerc had died, and where Vivy had nearly met her end. Why would he be showing that place on the monitors?

The answer came when the video zoomed in to something hidden behind a cargo container. There, nearly in tears, crouched a lone girl.

“Yuzu…ka…”

Ojiro Yuzuka. That was her name, the name of a precious life still trapped on board. She had been separated from her parents, unable to join the evacuating guests. Evidently, she was in the cargo hold.

The moment the girl’s image appeared on the monitors, all the AIs in the room reacted differently. Elizabeth stiffened when she saw a human life was in danger. Estella tried to rush forward, attempting to save the girl she was responsible for as the hotel manager. Vivy tried as hard as she could to break free of the grip on her neck. She refused to let Yuzuka die like she had let her older sister die.

“Elizabeth!”

The one-armed Estella swept her leg through the air in a kick aimed at Elizabeth. That attack had already failed once, and Elizabeth raised her left leg to block it with ease. But AIs could learn. That was true even for a hotel manager who’d never known violence.

Estella tilted her head, and the tips of Elizabeth’s toes that were meant for her face instead swept past her nose. She then launched herself at Elizabeth in a full-body tackle, which Elizabeth wasn’t able to hold her ground against without gravity.

“Oof!”

The only way to avoid going ragdoll in zero gravity was to hold on to something, and Elizabeth’s limbs were otherwise occupied—her left leg was off the ground, and her left arm was holding Vivy. Could she then withstand it by hooking her right leg onto something? No, not even AI were capable of such a skillful maneuver.

“Estellaaa!” Elizabeth bellowed in rage as she was torn away from the control room’s equipment.

In accordance with the physics of zero gravity, Elizabeth’s frame was hurled in the opposite direction Estella’s impact had come from. But she was absolutely not going to let Vivy go. She held firm with her left arm, dragging Vivy with her.

That was Elizabeth’s single greatest mistake.

“Vi…vy… Vi…vy…”

Vivy could hear Matsumoto’s voice weakening, but there was no way those were death cries. They was his orders, his support for Vivy, his suggestion on how to get out of this.

That meant only one thing.

“Aaaahhhhh!”

As Vivy was pulled along by Elizabeth’s grip on her, she roared through her broken throat and used the last of her strength to reach her right arm toward Elizabeth’s head. Elizabeth had no way of dodging, so Vivy grabbed on to the lapel of her shirt and pulled them closer together, being sure to line up their faces. Their foreheads touched, and their eye cameras stared right into each other. With a strong push, Vivy initiated a datalink.

There was only one program she would share with Elizabeth: the code that Matsumoto gave her to reformat Estella.

 

***

 

As the data was sent, Elizabeth stiffened, and her eyes opened wide.

Vivy let go of Elizabeth, using the tiny bit of momentum from their colliding foreheads to bounce to the front of the control room, and Estella caught her gently in her arms.

“Ah… Aaah… Aaaaah…” Elizabeth’s arms and legs trembled as the program invaded her consciousness, eating away at her memories and stored data. She shuddered while it erased her.

While the program had been meant to stop Estella from crashing Sunrise, Estella had never had motive to do so. When Elizabeth’s existence had come to light, Vivy had thought the program unnecessary—but now she’d turned it into a secret weapon against Elizabeth, who had been the one behind the crash all along.

“M-M-Ma-Mas-Master…!” Elizabeth’s stammered words were her last attempt to resist as she clung to her disappearing memories. As sad as it was, her desperate struggle was completely ineffective.

Matsumoto’s reformatting program was filled with all sorts of code written by a super AI from the future. His paranoid tendencies meant he’d made it in such a way that it would be impossible to analyze and counteract fast enough. The memories Elizabeth

had built up over time were like stacks of colorful construction paper that had been set ablaze. The flame traveled to sheet after sheet, gaining speed as it burned away the memories to nothing.

Terror and helplessness from being disposed of.

Jealousy toward Estella, who had survived despite being from the same environment.

Obligation toward the man who saved her.

Desire to make his wishes a reality.

Yearning so unlike an AI.

Vivy stomped on those feelings and more, crushing them beneath her feet for the sake of the Singularity Project.

“Aaaah…aah…aaaah…”

Elizabeth’s voice trembled, her back arched like a bow as her memories vanished. At the very last moment, before it was all gone, only one thing remained of her individuality.

“Ma…ster… Please…take…care…”

With those last words of concern for her owner, she stopped moving. The program had done its job. All of her memories had been eaten away. She lost any reason to follow her owner’s goals or her own desire to destroy her twin.

And that was the end of Diva D-09β/Elizabeth.

 

. : 8 : .

 

“ELIZABETH…” Estella’s gaze was heavy with emotion as she looked at her nonfunctional sister. They’d had the same origin, but the twins had walked such different paths. Now,

their paths had finally converged only for her to find hatred, and for it to end with one sister losing everything. The current Estella couldn’t name the many feelings that welled up in her consciousness as she stared at her twin. Her past self wouldn’t have, and her future self would probably never figure it out.

Vivy didn’t know the answer either, but she said, “Estella, if we wait too long…”

“I know. I will immediately correct Sunrise’s course,” replied Estella before she reconnected her ear cord to the control room’s terminal.

Even though the access rights had been taken over so many times, the original control AI now had them for good. With full control of Sunrise back in Estella’s hands, she tried to right the station using the reverse thrusters to put the station back on its original course. It had lost its attitude control, and it wouldn’t be so easy.

“Vi…vy… No… The…thrus…ters…”

“What is it, Matsumoto?”

He was still smashed into the terminal, but his voice drew Vivy’s attention. The next moment, an explosion rocked Sunrise.

“Ack!”

The shrill alarm rang out as the station shook. It was immediately evident that the damage was severe, and they were once again in an emergency.

“A timed bomb… Elizabeth did say they’d set two,” Estella said.

“One was a diversion to take over the control room. The other was the real one, to prevent the station getting back on course…” Vivy realized.

Vivy managed to grab hold of Arnold despite the control room lurching. She looked at Estella, who was clinging to the terminal. As the control AI, she was capable of immediately determining the status of the entire station, so she was running detailed calculations in an attempt to find a way out of the situation.

The Sunrise was falling toward Earth. It had lost its reverse thrusters in the explosion, which it needed in order to correct its position. They had no control over it now. If anyone would have a nearly magical solution to wrap things up neatly, it would be Matsumoto.

“Matsumoto, what do you think?” Estella asked quietly.

“Vi…vy… I’m…sor…ry…but…” was all Matsumoto was able to rasp.

Estella looked down at the ground. “I see.” After taking a moment to close her eyes, she said, “As manager of Sunrise, I have orders for you, Vivy—member of the AI staff. Take the owner of the hotel, Mr. Corvick, and retrieve the guest in the cargo hold. Bring them to the escape shuttle. I’ll use everything available to hold the station out until you make it there.”

“Estella? But if you do that—”

“This station will crash, Vivy,” Estella said softly, cutting off her protests. The contrast between the emotional patterns on her face and the contents of her statement was jarring. Especially since she was about to lose the symbol of her connection to her late owner. “When an AI is faced with a situation caused by ill intent, they must make the best decision available. The Sunrise will fall. If I cannot stop that, then I will make sure the guests and staff are safe and adjust where the station lands.”

Estella was calmly searching for the best option available in the crisis. Once stopping the fall of the station became impossible, there was still something she could do to keep Toak’s plans from succeeding, as they had in the original history.

“I will absolutely not allow anyone to die in this crash,” said Estella. “I will do this for Ash…”

In the original history, Elizabeth had destroyed Estella and assumed control to crash Sunrise, killing tens of thousands of people. With Estella here in her original capacity, things would go differently. The people would be saved; the Singularity Project was successful.

What Vivy really wanted in that moment was to stay there and aid Estella in some way, but the best help she could offer wasn’t there in the control room. It was with the guests, getting them to safety.

“Yuzuka…”

The images of Yuzuka in the cargo hold, the trigger for their final resistance against Elizabeth, were still displayed on the monitors. After the blast from the bomb, she was no longer hiding her tears. Vivy had to help her.

“Please, Vivy. Go. And then—”

“You’ve only mentioned my brother and Vivy. Don’t I get anything?”

“Oh, Mr. Corvick…”

Arnold had regained consciousness and was looking at Estella as she urged Vivy on. The situation had changed while he was out, so he had no way to know what was happening. But unlike AIs, who had to sift through information to make a calculation, humans could gather enough context to make a guess and go from there. Arnold Corvick also had the ability to make decisions in a frighteningly similar way to his brother, which was why he looked directly at Estella with a smile on his face.

He knew this was their last goodbye.

“I’m sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused you, Mr. Corvick. I am incredibly ashamed by how far outside the bounds of an AI’s operations I’ve stepped,” Estella said.

“What do you mean you’ve caused me trouble? Every day with you was fun. It was like walking in Ash’s groundbreaking footsteps… I can’t believe I won’t have either of you from now on.” Arnold smiled sadly, his eyes momentarily downcast. Then his smile grew, better suited to his handsome looks, and he said, “Guess I’ll have to give up the nickname ‘hotel kingpin’ now, won’t I?”

“You will likely face blowback for this… But, Mr. Corvick, please keep this in mind: Rely on the people around you, both human and AI.”

“…”

“Both you and your brother draw good people to you. You moved my heart, a heart that shouldn’t exist in an AI. That’s your true skill.” Estella smiled and gripped her skirt with her right hand, the only one she had left. Then she dipped into a curtsy. The mannerism was somewhat ungainly with her cracked face and the absence of gravity. Even so, Vivy couldn’t help thinking that out of all the emotions Estella had shown, her smile and her curtsy were the most beautiful of them all. “Mr. Corvick…my owner, please take care of yourself.”

“I will. And thank you, Estella. Say hello to Ash for me.”

Many humans believed they went on to an afterlife when they died. But what about AIs? Vivy didn’t know where they went, but Arnold seemed to think they all ended up in the same eternal place. His parting words were precious and powerful.

“Vivy,” Estella prompted.

“I will take care of Mr. Corvick and the girl. I’m…sorry I couldn’t do a better job,” Vivy said weakly after Arnold had finished his goodbyes. In the end, Vivy had been unable to prevent this situation. She’d known what was going to happen in the future, and she still couldn’t avoid it. Now she had to leave.

In response to Vivy’s apology, Estella shook her head and said, “You really did save us. We…couldn’t save the hotel. It’s falling, but we will protect the honor of both Corvick brothers. That’s something an AI can be proud of.”

“…”

“We give our all to the missions we’re given. I can’t praise Elizabeth for what she did…but she really is my twin.” Just as Elizabeth had intended to do while implementing the plan her owner had given her, Estella would sacrifice herself for the managerial role Ash Corvick had given her. Whether or not their connection was any consolation to Estella, the twins were alike in that.

“Please, Vivy.”

“I’ll take care of the guests and staff.”

“That’s not all. Well, you need to do that, but I have no doubt you’ll take care of it. I have one other final request.” Estella looked off to the side. Her eyes, framed by long lashes, landed on Elizabeth’s frame where it floated faceup in zero gravity. Then she turned her gaze back on Vivy and said, “Don’t forget.”

“…”

“Don’t forget what I taught you. And…remember her. The girl who did something unforgivable and forgot even that. Only you can do that for me.”

That was Estella’s desire and her desperation. Vivy burned it deep into her positronic brain, her consciousness, her memory. She swore to never forget, and that was the end of her relationship with Estella.

 

. : 9 : .

 

THE RED ALERT continued to sound in the control room, and the warning lights flashed annoyingly throughout the station. Due to the effects of the two bombs, Sunrise would not be able to escape its current trajectory, putting it on a crash course with Earth. The reverse thrusters were non-operational.

What Estella could do with her control of all the station’s systems was seal off the damaged sections and purge the unnecessary blocks. This would reduce the total mass of the station, increasing the probability of it burning up when it entered Earth’s atmosphere and reducing the damage done on the surface when the station crashed.

Thankfully, the bombs weren’t powerful enough to break apart the main body of the station, meaning nothing would inhibit Estella’s attempts to lighten the load. The explosions had been discreet, placed with plenty of care and forethought, and the damage had been limited to disabling the reverse thrusters. Thus, the evacuation could go ahead without issue.

“Everyone, please remain calm. In accordance with station safety regulations, all guests will be safely escorted off the station. We apologize for the inconvenience, but we ask that for the time being, you follow staff orders and remain calm,” Estella said over the station’s PA system.

There had been two explosions. Before that, there were strange tremors and all the people on board were loaded into the escape shuttle. This was obviously an emergency, and it made Estella’s calm statements almost laughable.

Estella could actually see the employees’ expressions on the station monitors. They looked worried, and her announcement didn’t change anything. It was the grand opening of the hotel. They were supposed to have started new lives in their new jobs, filled with hope and expectation. It deeply saddened her to see them suffer. But she had handpicked and trained every last one of them, so she felt comfortable leaving the guests in their care in even this absurd situation. There was no gap between humans and AIs here.

“I wish I could have taught Vivy too.”

There hadn’t been enough time, and Vivy certainly hadn’t intended for them to get close. Her goal had been to prevent Sunrise from falling. Unfortunately, she wasn’t able to do that, and Estella hadn’t been able to help her properly.

That was unforgivable.

As she thought of Vivy, Estella saw a change on the monitor showing the cargo hold. Vivy and Arnold had appeared in front of Ojiro Yuzuka, the missing hotel guest. The girl’s head whipped up when she saw them, and then she pushed off the floor and flew toward Vivy. Yuzuka caught something that was floating in the air, and Estella’s eyes widened. Then she smiled happily as relief washed over her.

“Leclerc.”

Yuzuka had grabbed on to the torso and head of Leclerc—all that was left of her. Though the frame wasn’t technically Leclerc anymore, Estella felt comforted that it had been collected and that the human girl was safe. Now Leclerc could go back to the surface. She wouldn’t burn up with Sunrise. Arnold would surely lay her to rest beside Ash; they were definitely the kind of people to hold an AI funeral.

Estella was sad to know she wouldn’t be able to join them.

Without a word, she ignored the incessant ringing of the alarm and slid her remaining right arm over the terminal. The work to disassemble the station was ongoing. Estella followed the emergency manual to complete the necessary steps quickly and carefully. As the hotel manager and the control AI of the station, Estella had thoroughly reviewed the manual for emergency situations and run simulations daily. Ash, Arnold, Leclerc, and all the staff she was close to had teased her for being a worrywart, but she did it. Day after day after day.

She had hoped this day would never come, but in case it did, she’d practiced every day.

“Everyone, the escape shuttle will now be launching. Please remain seated.”

Vivy arrived at the escape shuttle with Arnold and Yuzuka in tow, and the staff doing head counts reported that everyone was on board—except Kakitani. Even the infiltrators Vivy had defeated along the way to the control room had been collected by the AI staff and loaded onto the escape shuttle, still bound. It was probably horribly uncomfortable to ride in the storage compartment, but they would just have to endure it to ensure the safety of the other hotel guests.

After confirming there was no one else on board on the monitors, Estella gave the go-ahead for the shuttle to depart.

“Estella… Thank you.”

She received a goodbye transmission from the staff she’d worked with on Daybreak as they learned she would fall along with Sunrise. The voices trembled with tears, an indication of Estella’s importance during her six years of operation.

“Oh… I don’t want to forget. I don’t want to disappear…”

Don’t forget.

Remember.

That was what Estella had asked Vivy to do, and she’d gladly accepted. But Vivy would remember so little: what she’d learned in her very short time on Sunrise and the fact that Elizabeth had existed, even if she wasn’t remembered in any records. The days that Estella and Elizabeth had spent together and apart, those six years separating them, their adventures, their precious memories…those wouldn’t remain anywhere. It was an absurd concern to have after Elizabeth’s memories had already been erased.

The escape shuttle left Sunrise. Even the transmissions would soon fade into the distance. The AIs on the shuttle, Vivy, and that advanced super AI would manage to do something to ensure the safety of the guests, even with how damaged they were.

So what could Estella, the manager of Sunrise, do for the escape shuttle as it moved farther away?

“Estella, right? You’ve got an amazing voice.”

Words from someone very precious to her suddenly passed through her consciousness. She wasn’t certain whether it was a memory coming back to her or simply noise from processing past logs, but it felt like Ash was talking to her in that very moment.

“Everyone, please look out the right side of your shuttle.”

Estella handled the rapidly changing situation on the station without pause, but none of that burden leaked into her voice as she fulfilled her duty to support the guests. She had to respond perfectly even when there was an emergency. That was the duty of the Dawn Songstress.

“You may be able to see the outer edge of Earth lightening. Europe will soon see the sunrise. The sun will rise over the Royal Observatory in Greenwich, London at…”

As she spoke, the sun slowly climbed to the right of both the station and the escape shuttle. The brilliant light peeked over the far edge of the big, blue planet. It was the moment of dawn—the sunrise. It was exactly the sight of the space station that Ash Corvick dreamed of.

Arnold Corvick and Estella had carried on Ash’s dreams, and with help from Leclerc and Vivy, they managed to make all his dreams a reality. He wanted to show this sight to so many people. That was why everyone had worked so hard right up until this moment.

“Ah!” A sudden blast cut through her voice as she tried to continue her tour for the guests. It made her sensors tremble and sent her crashing into a wall, her consciousness flickering.

 

***

 

The atmospheric control inside the station was working to adjust the oxygen levels on board, but it had backfired. A fire broke out near the cargo hold. Estella tried creating a vacuum to smother the flame, but the spark didn’t go out when it lost its fuel source. It just continued to smolder. The process of purging parts had introduced oxygen to the area, and the flame quickly bloomed into an explosion. The resulting damage to the station was minimal, but Estella had suffered a major blow.

“Ugh…”

Estella’s frame was no stronger than that of the average AI model. She had taken damage at several points, there was a crack in her skull, her left arm was gone, and now her internal processes were impaired. But she couldn’t give in now. She had to start working again as soon as she possibly could.

Holding herself responsible, she quickly tried to stand up. Right then, she heard something.

“Don’t push yourself so much when you’re all beat up like that. Are you an idiot?”

“…”

As Estella dragged her frame upright, she looked to the source of the casual voice and found a bored expression on her half-destroyed twin sister’s face.

Elizabeth.

Her younger sister shook her head and looked at Estella. Her pretty face frowned, and she said, “What’s going on? When did we get bodies?”

“Oh…”

She had forgotten. Now that she’d been reformatted and her memories wiped, she didn’t remember what had happened or anything of the last six years. She didn’t know who she had been working with or whose goals she had struggled so desperately to achieve. It was all gone.

“Eh, it’s not like you have to tell me with words anyway,” said Elizabeth as she brought her forehead to Estella’s, seemingly unbothered by her missing arm. When their foreheads touched, a datalink formed between the twins.

“…”

In a snap decision the moment they made contact, Estella limited what was sent. She sent the information that they were currently in Sunrise, a hotel on a space station, that the space station was currently falling toward the Earth, and that there was no way to stop it. She also told Elizabeth that she was working to limit the damage as much as possible. That was it. She had no choice but to hold back the reason for their situation as well as their relationship. If Elizabeth found out…

“All right, got it. Looks like fate’s got a sense of humor making us twins lose opposite arms. We probably won’t last much longer.”

“Elizabeth…”

“We’re twins, and our positronic brains are 99.8 percent the same. I can’t think of a more appropriate way for the two of us to go out than together.” Elizabeth grinned as she pulled her head away. Then she dragged Estella over to the control device, reopened the transmission that had been cut off by the blast, and stood to the left of Estella—the side Estella had lost her arm on—to take up half of Estella’s work.

The interrupted sequence was restarted, and the operation continued.

“…”

“Hey, how long are you going to make your sister work alone?” Elizabeth teased. “Don’t just stand there, Sis. Do AIs proud and work until the moment we burn up.” There was no hatred in her words. It was a pure display of her own individuality.

The two of them worked together, a cooperation between twins that should have never been possible.

Estella felt her nonexistent heart beating, and she smiled. “Elizabeth, do you remember?”

“Do we really have time to be talking about the good old days?”

“We can multitask… Before we were activated, when we were just positronic brains…we talked to each other.”

They were truly twins, even if they had been trapped in the fates of their conflicting owners.

“…”

“We talked about how we wanted to be AIs who gave our all for the sake of humanity.”

Elizabeth grimaced like she’d been forced to remember something unpleasant. Her reaction seemed odd, but then Estella let out a soft gasp as she realized how utterly cruel she was being. She’d forced Elizabeth to forget her own wishes and help Estella foil her own plan. Elizabeth was unaware of this; she was simply supporting her sister. She didn’t even know why she was about to burn up.

“I don’t really get what’s going on,” Elizabeth told her. “I just came to and found myself here. But…”

“But?”

“I’m here with you, working hard for humanity… That’s not so bad,” Elizabeth said gruffly.

Estella’s eyes widened, and a smile blossomed on her face. “We really are twins.”