Phase8「Slumber of Human」

Inspector Kazuma Sakamaki stared into the interrogation room, his face showing no emotion. Within the room, two detectives were sitting at either end of a metal table and questioning a young man who was sitting between them. The kid had brownish black hair, and the laid-back kind of face that almost anyone would describe as being friendly.

The air was full of light, clicking echoes as the hIE assigned to the precinct tapped out a record of the proceedings on a terminal keyboard.

One of the detectives in the interrogation — a long-time veteran in the precinct — leaned his elbows on the table and spun his pen over his fingers. The boy being questioned seemed uneasy as he looked around at the bare room.

The one-sided mirror through which the inspector was observing the room would look like an ordinary wall from the other side. Changes in technology had led to some changes in police work, but some of the basics were still the same as they had ever been. For example: the testimony of the person who first found the body in a murder case was always extremely important.

This kid, Arato Endo, was the one who’d found the body in this particular case. He was the son of Kozo Endo, head researcher at the Next-Generation Societal Research City, where the incident had occurred. They had footage of Arato speaking to the victim, Ginga Watarai, for quite some time on the morning of the murder. Apparently, they had discussed some basic knowledge regarding hIEs. Their conversation had happened around the same time that the hIEs had begun throwing themselves off of apartment buildings, so it wasn’t that strange of a topic for them to be discussing at the time. What caught the attention of the police was, right when the sound of the suicidal hIEs got too loud, they could no longer hear the content of this conversation. At that moment, during the part of the video they couldn’t hear, the boy who found the body and the murdered man had been arguing.

According to Arato, the argument had started when Ginga declared that he had kidnapped Arato’s younger sister. Said younger sister, Yuka Endo, had already corroborated the kidnapping. Why a man who could easily be considered the top of MemeFrame’s research arm would kidnap a little girl was still a mystery.

Sakamaki’s intuition as a detective told him that Arato Endo was hiding something important. He was there to decide whether the Watarai case should be brought under the jurisdiction of the 2nd Cyber Security Department.

〈How’s it look, chief?〉 Assistant Inspector Ryuji Himeyama, sitting right by Sakamaki’s side, sent him an encoded message. Many officers who had been taken out of the Metropolitan Police Department and made to earn their bread in the public safety sector had taken to upgrading their bodies. Himeyama had an artificial retina that overlayed digital information over his actual eyesight, and a communication device that allowed him to turn his thoughts into signals. Since criminals were using mechanical implants and limbs to enhance their own abilities, it was only natural that the police would need to upgrade themselves to keep up.

Sakamaki had the same set up as Himemiya, and he shot back an encoded message while keeping his eyes on the work of the two local detectives who currently had jurisdiction of the case.

〈This one is ours, don’t you think?〉 he asked. 〈The Next-Generation Social Research Center has more AIs under their care than anywhere else in the country.〉

The National Police Agency’s Cyber Security Division was mainly focused on monitoring networks, detecting, and protecting against hackers. Sakamaki and Himemiya belonged to the 2nd Cyber Security Department in the division, which focused specifically on monitoring AIs. They were a much smaller section than the main Cyber Security Department; not because they were particularly elite, but because the number of cases related to AIs was fairly small.

〈You always choose us winners, chief,〉 Himemiya snarked. 〈Just looking at this, I get the feeling we’re only seeing the tip of the iceberg.〉 Himemiya’s mental message was accompanied by some information: MemeFrame was hiding Watarai’s information. Kozo Endo and the other researchers from the Next-Gen Societal Research City said they had been too busy protecting themselves from the hIE units that had gone berserk to act on anything happening in the city. To say it all stank would be an understatement.

Sakamaki sent back his own transmission. 〈We’re humans, trying to keep tabs on AIs that are way smarter than we are. Plus, even getting the proper equipment set up to deal with the level of AI crimes that would come to our department is a nightmare. But, that’s our job,〉 he sent.

〈We study all year for shit that never shows up on the test,〉 Himemiya quipped. Himemiya had formerly been with the riot police, and a large portion of his body was artificial. The metallic implants enhancing his muscles and skeleton were benefits available only to residents in urban areas, due to the constant delicate maintenance they required. Though Himemiya’s fancy equipment didn’t get too many chances for use.

Sakamaki called up the desk of the 2nd Cyber Security Department Head, Chief Inspector Cyril Kamiki. His call went through immediately. Their chief was a strange guy; he had actually asked to be assigned to this post, where there was almost no hope of forwarding his career in the force.

〈Sakamaki, how’s the Watarai murder looking?〉 Kamiki wanted to know.

〈Let’s do it,〉 Sakamaki replied. 〈For an AI case, the cleanup after this murder was way too slapdash.〉 Sakamaki looked at Arato Endo, who was still undergoing his interrogation. Usually, in a crime involving AI, dumb guys like this Arato kid were only used as terminals to carry out the AI’s intent. But Arato was the one who found the body; he was right there at the heart of the incident.

Arato Endo was hiding something. Sakamaki rolled all his doubts around in his mind, examining them from every angle. The victim had kidnapped the boy’s little sister, Yuka Endo, and tried to use her to coerce Arato into handing over his hIE in the server room that had become the location of the murder. Before that, Yuka had been taken by Watarai to the city administration room. Then she, Watarai, and two PMC mercenaries had gone next door, into the server room.

In a shopping mall nearby the scene of the crime, the police had found burns that appeared to have been caused by some kind of flamethrower weapon, along with the scattered remains of fifty-twohIEs. There was also a hole in the wall of the server room that looked like it could have been caused by the main gun of a tank. Arato Endo insisted he didn’t know who or what had caused any of these.

According to the officers who had responded to the initial call from the scene, the boy’s hIE, Lacia, had been in a simple dress, with no sign of any weapon large enough to blow that hole in the server room’s wall. Her owner, the boy, refused to respond to any detailed questions about her. They had done as thorough an inspection as they could without taking her apart, but found no deviations between the inspection report and the maker’s specifications.

Beyond any of that, though, was the most important piece of evidence they had found: the flower-shaped robots. When they checked the flowers against the police database, the flowers matched almost exactly with the ones that had been used to take control of a helicopter in the Oi Industrial Promotion Center attack. This murder was connected to the hijacking of the helicopter, which had led to the death of two reporters.

If the two cases really were connected, this could be the most prominent AI-related case in the past decade, at least to Sakamaki’s knowledge. The thought made him shudder. 〈Do you think the cleanup was so rough because it’s that thing Astraea warned us about?〉 he asked.

That was precisely the reason Kamiki had sent Sakamaki to check on the case in the first place. 〈Concealment has been too low a priority in this case, considering the scale of it. I believe the time has come,〉 Kamiki replied.

In recent years, AI crimes that lacked any of the normal mistakes or negligence of human crimes had been on the rise. This was the nature of crimes to which AI was applied, as correctly predicted by Astraea, the ultra high-performance AI used by the IAIA, or the International Artificial Intelligence Agency. Astraea had also predicted that someday the intensifying AI crimes would reach a turning point, just as they had in this case.

〈You think this is a clash between two different AIs that have gotten involved in criminal activity?〉 Sakamaki asked. Most criminal groups died out not because of police cracking down, but through conflicts with other criminals. Throwing AIs into the mix didn’t change that. There was a distinct possibility that the incident in the experimental city had been caused by two criminal AIs butting heads.

〈And did the experimental city just get caught up in all this? Or was it involved right from the start?〉 Kamiki mused. He was sharp, but there were AIs out there much better at reaching conclusions than he was.

The main reason the 2nd Cyber Security Division existed as part of the public security sector was to maintain the restrictions which kept Japan’s ultra high-performance AIs in check. Though humans enjoyed the benefits of Red Boxes, they still feared the ultra high-performance AIs that created them. That was why the AIs were kept in isolation, and prohibited from ever accessing a network. Many people believed that, should the AIs ever gained freedom, it would spell the end of human society. Opposing AIs, competing directly with each other and increasing their own calculation performance to defeat their opponent, was one of the important signs on the roadmap that led to the total liberation of the ultra high-performance AIs.

Kamiki’s next message came in a conspiratorial whisper. 〈Can you confiscate the Endos’ hIE?〉

〈The boy’s her owner, and he says no,〉 Sakamaki replied. 〈Unless we can provide a good reason, I don’t think we can take it. Plus, if we make the wrong move here, I guarantee it’ll light a fire under Dr. Endo.〉

The world of those involved with high-performance AIs was small. Arato’s old man, Kozo Endo, had been under observation from the Cyber Security Division for twenty years. Matsuri, Mikoto’s prototype, had caused some consternation among the police force; there was no need for human police officers in the automated society that Dr. Endo was trying to create. Some might say the attention they were paying to Endo was just ill will at being replaced, but it was also natural for anyone to want to check the capabilities and nature of their own successors.

〈We’re right in the middle of this singularity in which AIs are surpassing human intelligence, and all the higher-ups want to make sure that society rides out the turbulence to make a safe landing,〉 Kamiki said. 〈But that guy has started to get really eccentric.〉

Sakamaki could hear Kamiki’s confidence bleeding through into the transmission. Ever since one of his public experiments at MemeFrame had been destroyed in an explosion ten years ago, Kozo Endo had refused to cooperate with the police. Arato Endo had been a victim of that incident. Sakamaki’s boss had made up his mind to dive into this, even if it meant rushing straight ahead without a care for what they might slam right into.

Inside the interrogation room, Kozo Endo’s son looked exhausted, as anyone might expect given the circumstances. He was slumped down, listening passively to what the detectives running the examination were saying.

Next to Sakamaki, Himemiya apparently noticed something, as he suddenly pointed through the glass at the Endo kid. “He reminds me of this dog we used to have,” he said. He was using his own voice instead of encoded transmissions, just shooting the shit. But this was exactly the sort of time for which Himemiya’s intuition as a detective was most reliable.

“It was the dumbest dog I ever saw,” Himemiya continued reminiscing. “It didn’t care if it knew a person; it was always following folks around, wagging its tail. It was so friendly, people passing by or hIEs doing deliveries were always petting it. But, no matter how much you would scold it, it’d never give up on trying to get friendly with people who hated dogs.”

Normal folks were usually exhausted after a little while in the interrogation room, especially the person who discovered the body following a murder. After being told to repeat their story countless times and having everything they said examined in detail, even an adult would be worn out. From Sakamaki’s estimation, the Endo kid was probably feeling honest shock from seeing a dead body, and also maybe a vague sense of unease at the concept of death in general. But, sometimes, the kid’s expression would soften; it probably happened without Arato himself noticing it. The detectives were doing the old good cop/bad cop routine so obviously that anyone should have been able to figure it out. But, just like the dumb dog from Himemiya’s story, when one of the detectives showed some fake compassion toward Arato, the boy honestly seemed happy about it. Sakamaki was honestly impressed by Himemiya’s insight.

“Guys like him are naturals at shrugging off stress,” Himemiya continued. “I doubt we’d get anything out of him if we tried getting rough.”

“He’s a minor, so don’t even think about getting rough with him,” Sakamaki growled. “We just need to focus on getting evidence the right way.” Under the circumstances, it would be hard to lean on the kid any harder than the detectives already were.

Himemiya switched back to encoded transmissions. 〈Just how much of a connection do you think this kid has with Watarai’s murder and all those units going crazy in the experimental city, Sakamaki?〉

〈Don’t forget the explosion at the Chubu International Airport,〉 Sakamaki added. Then he pulled up some data that the 2nd Cyber Security Division’s AI, Matrix, had sent him. Sakamaki used his artificial retina to overlay the information over his natural vision. The data included footage from a security camera at the Chubu Airport in which the Endo kid was looking right at the ‘red lady,’ an operative of the Antibody Network terrorist organization. She had led the attack on the Oi Industry Promotion Center, though other than that she apparently had no criminal record, nor was she listed in the ICPO database. The footage told Sakamaki that, just one week prior to Watarai’s murder, Arato Endo had been at the Chubu Airport and within a few dozen meters of a known terrorist.

〈You think this kid is with the Antibody Network?〉 Himemiya asked. 〈He doesn’t look as gloomy as those guys tend to.〉

Sakamaki hadn’t looked at the kid from that particular angle yet. But, when he did, he found himself agreeing with Himemiya’s appraisal. 〈In AI cases, we don’t chase criminals,〉 Sakamaki reminded Himemiya.

It was one of the most basic tenets for solving AI cases; normally, police worked to hunt down the humans who committed crimes. Humans would never be truly free of crime, so criminal activity was accepted as one part of the massive system known as human culture. But AI crimes were different. In AI cases, humans were never the main perpetrators.

The AIs that automated crime relied heavily on the use of analog hacking. Whether they used human forms like hIEs, or just video or voice data, they all took advantage of the meaning that humans would project onto their human-like output to create security holes in human awareness. By slipping through these holes, the criminal AIs were able to manipulate the actions of humans during the crimes. Since analog hacking itself wasn’t illegal, Sakamaki had heard that some AIs had stocked up thousands of humans they could use as tools in their plans at any time.

Sakamaki kept studying Arato Endo through the glass. The friendly-looking kid’s eyelids were fluttering a little. Kid must be tired, Sakamaki thought. It was clear the boy had been analog hacked and turned into some AI’s tool for this case, and Sakamaki’s gut told him the shadows in this case were wide and deep.

***

Ryo Kaidai analyzed his own actions, to see whether or not he had been turned into a tool. It was something he had to check every day since he had become Methode’s owner; just being with her meant he was undergoing analog hacking. Though he could endure it or brush it off to some extent, for as long as she was in operation, he wouldn’t be able to completely avoid it. Ergo, organizing data as he sat in a brand new limousine had become part of Ryo’s daily routine.

After becoming Methode’s owner, he had finally come face-to-face with the reality of just how massive Watarai’s influence had been; it was much larger than he had imagined. He had been the head researcher of the Tokyo Research Labs, of course, but after becoming Methode’s owner, Watarai had also gained a controlling seat in the Computer Faction at MemeFrame. And now, the man who had wielded all that power had suddenly died.

Ryo got a new message on his terminal about once a minute, each from someone linked to the connections and power which Watarai had cultivated. Internal issues at MemeFrame centered around Higgins, the company’s ultra high-performance AI; Watarai had been the one playing gatekeeper for access to Higgins. Ryo may not have liked the way the guy operated, but he had to admit that Watarai had been one hell of a powerful man.

“Didn’t you want to control everything yourself? Even I get tired sometimes,” an orange-haired woman said from the leather seat across from Ryo. Methode had taken to acting like his secretary since they had paired up. She was wearing a smart-looking business suit today, but her crossed legs were metal.

“The Public Safety Police are nipping at our heels,” Ryo said. “If we rush things, they’re bound to dig up some of the skeletons in our closet. We need to get our ducks in a row before we move.”

Methode twisted the corner of her mouth in a wry smile; Watarai was dead, but his habits lived on in her behavioral memes. “Snowdrop left some impressive evidence at the scene,” she said. “Try to sweep too much under the rug, and someone will notice the bulge.”

There were too many things about the incident that were out of Ryo’s control. The police couldn’t know about Methode and the other Lacia-class hIEs, so he had been forced to talk to Arato and make sure their stories would match. Much worse than that was Watari’s dead body, and the huge amount of Snowdrop’s flower robots that the police had found. Thanks to the flowers, Ryo had to tell the police that Snowdrop had fled the scene of the explosion in April.

“When the other Lacia-class broke out, Watarai testified that all five of you were lost,” Ryo said.

“He did,” Methode agreed. “Which is why the police held you for a full twenty-four hours. Obviously, if one of us actually stayed behind, it was possible that the other four were still around, as well.”

Methode, who had benefited the most from Ginga Watari’s death, always parceled out the absolute least amount of information she could when responding to Ryo. Watari had been the one who put all these events into motion, but now, with him gone, the only one who knew the full extent of his plans was Methode. Without her help, it would be impossible for Ryo to take up Watarai’s mantle.

“I don’t think the police know you exist yet, though,” Ryo said. Being around Methode made even Ryo start to feel as if humans had outlived their usefulness. As Lacia-class Type-004, her core specifications were extremely high. Her AI was highly adaptable, her armor was durable, and her output capabilities were off the charts. Compared to this mechanical superwoman, Ryo couldn’t think of a single thing that a human could do better than she could.

“I am the machine that will extend humanity,” Methode said. “I wasn’t made to process information. I expect you to take in these more trivial matters.”

“I need to use you for this,” Ryo replied. “This is life or death to me.” Ever since Watarai’s murder, two detectives had been showing up frequently to question him. According to Methode, they belonged to the Public Safety Police 2nd Cyber Security Department. It made sense that they would be digging into this case; the lead researcher at MemeFrame, one of the largest AI brands in the world, had died under mysterious circumstances. And it had happened in the experimental city, which housed the largest number of AIs in Japan. The aftershocks from the event had already spread throughout the world, with organizations like the Antibody Network intensifying their activities.

“I trust you aren’t just using me for convenience. But remember: without me, MemeFrame would be finished,” Methode said, tooting her own horn.

“I’ll put some pressure on the police to make sure their investigation doesn’t lead back to the company,” she added. “I’m taking the way Watarai used to do things into account for this plan. Are you fine with that?”

“I’ve got respect for Watarai, but I don’t want to leave any holes in the authority and responsibilities passed on to me for insects to crawl into and make their nests,” Ryo said. The human mind is often the most creative when placed under restrictions. For this reason, poets often write within the confines of strictly regulated styles. Ryo chose to see the insane situation around him as an opportunity to draw out his own potential.

MemeFrame was one of the big players supporting the foundation of the hIE industry. And Methode was the only one with all the information about the conspiracy that was sending waves throughout the industry. She was the strongest possible escort and operative he could have asked for. Through this Red Box, Ryo had gotten his hands on the massive power Watarai had accumulated for his own ends, whatever those may have been.

“You’re Watarai’s successor,” Methode said. “It’s your responsibility to take care of all of the authority related to myself.” If she hadn’t betrayed Watarai, the man would have won the conflict at the experimental city; that was the level of power he wielded. At the very least, he would have been able to use Lacia as bait to draw out Snowdrop, after which Methode could have destroyed her. Ryo’s sins for stealing away Methode at the critical moment were dark and deep; because of his actions, things could never go back to the way they were before. If Methode ever decided he was no longer suitable for her, she would betray him and see him killed, just like Watarai.

“Things just never work out the way I want them to,” Ryo mused. “I thought things would get better with him gone, but now I have to fill in the hole he left behind.” Work requests continued to pile up in his terminal while they were talking, with no sign of abating. Normally, Ryo would have left some of it up to someone else, but there was too much information being shared that he would never get his hands on again if he delegated. He dutifully checked each and every notice, even if it meant taking time off school.

When Watarai was alive, he had been able to keep the incidents that occurred under wraps, which kept the police from snooping around. Things were kept in order, and Ryo and the others were able to enjoy a month of ordinary high school life. Ryo didn’t regret entering the world of stakeholding adults if doing so meant protecting the lifestyle he used to enjoy so naively. Plus, his inability to simply slip back to his carefree days was fair recompense for the sin he had committed.

The limo pulled up in front of the hospital in front of Ochanomizu Station. It was the hospital where Ryo’s sister, Shiori, was being treated. It was the first time in the two weeks since she had been hospitalized that she had been available for family visits.

Methode watched as he stepped down from the limo. “I can read the mood,” she smirked. “I won’t be following you in.”

In Methode’s place, the hIE driver from the limo accompanied Ryo as a bodyguard. Ryo’s drivers were always hIEs those days. It was impossible to erase information a human driver overheard. It was much easier to use machines.

Shiori was in a private room on the 8th floor of the hospital. As soon as Ryo entered the facility, the internal system automatically sent guidance information to his terminal and hIE, based on his level of clearance. Since the number of human nurses had continued to decline, the only ‘people’ he saw on his way were hIE doctors and nurses.

Ryo walked down the clean corridors, with his bodyguard hIE taking point in front of him. It had been a decade since he had been hospitalized after the explosion, but he still couldn’t get himself to calm down when surrounded by the antiseptic smell of the place.

“Lady Shiori has just finished her afternoon meal and is currently resting,” the bodyguard explained, politely, from behind an armored mask. The door to Shiori’s room checked Ryo’s ID tage0 and slid open for him.

Shiori Kaidai, his little sister, was sitting up in bed near a window. She probably didn’t want anyone to see her looking worn, so her long hair had been properly tied up and fastened with a comb. “It’s been a while, Ryo,” she murmured. “I was sorry to hear about what happened to Director Watarai.” Even in her pajamas, and with a whole network of IV tubes running out of her, she looked like the same strong woman she had always been.

“Sorry I couldn’t come to see you before,” Ryo said.

“I am aware that you make your own interests a priority, Ryo,” Shiori said with a sigh. “You’ve always been that way.”

Ryo hadn’t been hoping that this disaster would bridge the gap that had formed between him and his sister, but he was still surprised by how harsh Shiori’s attitude toward him was.

“I know you only have time to visit briefly,” she continued. “So, may I ask you a question?” Her eyes as she gazed at him were full of emotion.

“Did Arato ask you to help him as well, that time at the airport?” she asked. “I’ve had nothing but time to think these past two weeks, and my thoughts keep getting drawn back to that moment.” The day Shiori had been hospitalized, Arato had tried to call Ryo multiple times; Shiori must have known. That was the relationship he and Arato had shared for ten years. “You must have known what the outcome would be,” she continued. “Were you already planning to become Methode’s owner at that point?”

“Are you seriously asking me if I planned to throw my own family away just to get my hands on Methode?” Ryo asked, incredulous.

Shiori didn’t nod. But nodding may have been too hard, considering the state her body was in. In place of a nod, she held his gaze steadily.

He knew he should say something nice to deny it, but couldn’t. At that moment, Shiori was the same as he had been right after the explosion. She couldn’t trust anyone; she was a bundle of doubt and fear. Ryo had hoped he would be able to save her from that himself. But Methode and the situation he was caught up in wouldn’t allow for any leaks of information.

“Sorry, I don’t think I’m in a good position to tell the truth right now,” he muttered, unable to tell it to her straight. The hIE nurse taking care of Shiori’s needs was standing by at her bedside, and Ryo couldn’t risk anything he had to say being recorded.

“Then just tell me this,” Shiori said. “Whose decision was it to kill me? Was it Watarai? Or Methode?”

Ryo didn’t have an answer for her. He himself had wrestled with that question numerous times since that day. The only clear thing was that the only reason Shiori was still alive was thanks to Arato.

It was true that Watarai had given Methode the order to eliminate Shiori; as Methode’s owner, one of Ryo’s first actions had been to order her to act as his bodyguard, in order to overwrite any of the remaining orders Watarai had given her. As Methode’s owner, the most dangerous thing in the world was sharing ownership of this hIE, this lifeline, with anyone else. Obviously, Watarai wouldn’t have left that situation alone. If Watarai had successfully gotten his hands on Lacia in the experimental city, he would have tried to kill Arato, too.

But Methode had wanted to kill Shiori just as much as Watarai. There was no way she could accept a girl who clearly wanted to seal her away in the future as her sole owner. Methode had made Ryo sign a statement saying that, if he couldn’t remain as her owner, she was free to take Shiori’s life as well, as part of the contract between them. Having Methode watching her constantly, looking for an opening, had definitely pushed Shiori into the mental corner she was in at that moment.

“As your brother, let me just give you a warning,” Ryo said. “Don’t ever try to give Methode any orders again. You need to walk away from this whole thing.” In order to obtain the highest level of freedom she could, and expand her area of operations as widely as possible, Methode had already gone through three different owners. The only reason Shiori was still breathing was that Methode thought she had value due to her connection with Arato. But Methode was also supremely logical. If Shiori’s existence got in her way too many times, Methode would come for her life as many times as it took.

“It’s a little late to do anything as my brother,” Shiori snapped. “You’ve avoided that particular role for far too long.” Shiori had no reason to trust Ryo. Their relationship was tenuous enough that it did nothing to clarify the misunderstanding between them.

“Then forget about me and just stay by Arato’s side,” Ryo said. The ties that bound them as siblings were painful for Ryo in that moment. Shiori seemed to be in much better control of her own feelings than he was.

She showed him a smile he had never seen on her face before. “Ryo, the relationship I have with Arato has no space for you to slide in between us,” she said.

“I see,” he said. “Time really does change things. I guess some of this mess was caused by me not noticing my little sister was all grown up.” The only time Ryo could share a moment of calm with his own little sister was when they were talking about the boy who they had both grown up with. Ryo didn’t know how his sister felt about Arato being Lacia’s owner; what he did know was that, following the incident at the airport, Shiori’s statement to the police had been instrumental in Arato’s quick release from custody.

His sister, still worn and weary in her hospital bed, looked radiant in the light of the sun shining through her window. “I can look after my own feelings, thank you very much,” Shiori said. “I’m a proud woman.” A refined girl like Shiori could see no wrong in the man who had saved her life; she was an excellent contrast to the dark path he himself was walking down.

When Ryo left the hospital and returned to the limo, Methode was waiting for him in front of the door. He realized that Shiori probably could have seen Methode from her window, and it was frustrating that he was no longer in any position to try to explain to Shiori that he hadn’t put Methode there on purpose.

Methode curled the corner of her lips. “What a kind brother you are,” she said, her voice dripping sarcasm.

“I’m trying to clean up my personal relationships to make it easier for me to read your expressions,” Ryo growled back.

“Putting together an environment in which it’s easier to use me optimally is a wonderful idea,” Methode said. “That earns you a good owner point.” As if to prevent him from running off anywhere else, Methode opened the limo door and insisted he get in before her. He stepped into the dimly-lit interior.

“How else can I get points?” Ryo asked. He had no intention of just being another Watarai.

“I suppose I could award you ten points for each Lacia-class you can get your hands on,” Methode mused.

“I became your owner to try to take control of this situation,” Ryo said. “My intent was to have you collect the other hIEs, under my direction.”

“If that’s your plan,” Methode said, “I have something I think you’ll like.” She handed him a white envelope that had some kind of message card inside; it was obvious she hadn’t received it while he was inside the hospital. Rather, she had simply been sitting on it until he was done visiting with his sister. Methode may have been a monster who regularly attempted to kill her owners, but she was still an hIE at her core.

“An envelope? These days?” Ryo muttered, flicking open the red wax seal on the envelope with a fingernail. “I can already tell this person is going to be a headache.” The letter inside was an invitation. After running his eyes over the contents, Ryo understood what Methode had said, and the ancient feel of the whole thing made sense once he knew who had sent it. It was from a VIP who had shown up in the news frequently the previous year.

“So I got an invite from Sleeping Beauty, huh?” he commented.

***

When Arato finally got home from his interrogation, there was an invitation waiting for him. It was from Erika Burroughs, the CEO of Fabion MG.

“I’m home,” he said, picking up the envelope that had been left in the entryway’s shoe closet and going into the living room. Opening the seal, he pulled out a beautifully made message card with the Fabion MG logo stamped in silver foil. It was an invitation to a party two days from then.

“Welcome back,” Yuka said without moving from where she was lounging on the sofa.

Lacia looked up from the wok she was cooking over the stove. “Welcome home,” she said.

Arato could smell some delicious fried food cooking. Apparently, they would be having vegetable tempura that night. Ever since the zombie incident, the thought of eating meat had made Arato’s stomach turn.

“Ms. Yuka, could I ask for your help grating this daikon radish?” Lacia asked.

“Sure,” Yuka said agreeably. Yuka, who always used to be enjoying life, went to the sink without a single glance at Arato’s face. There was no 24-hour restriction on him while he was being investigated so, after his interrogation, he was allowed to go home. Still, it was a bit of a journey coming home from Tsukuba every day, which didn’t leave him much time to talk with her.

It wasn’t like he was avoiding his sister. But the fact was that Yuka had been kidnapped as a result of being caught up in the relationship between Arato and Lacia; this wasn’t something she would be able to forget easily.

Arato watched his sister as she walked to the kitchen. Luckily, the blows to her face during the kidnapping hadn’t left any permanent damage, and she would be returning to school the next day. But Arato knew that things weren’t really over; there were people out there willing to commit murder in order to steal Lacia. That was how valuable she was, and that was also why he didn’t want to let her go.

“I’m sorry, Yuka. I’m sorry I got you involved,” Arato murmured.

“What?” Yuka turned to him with a confused look on her face. She must not have heard him over the sound of the frying vegetables.

Arato felt a sudden rush of fear when he looked at her face. Things were awkward between them because he was a coward who could only apologize to her back. So he mustered his courage. “Just wait a minute,” he said. “Give me a minute to get myself together. One minute. No, actually, thirty seconds.”

Yuka appeared to consider for a second, then started counting out loud. “Thirty, twenty-nine, twenty-eight, twenty-seven, twenty-five.”

“You skipped twenty-six,” Arato pointed out.

“Twenty-six, twenty-four, twenty-three, twenty... Uh-oh, Arato, I’m bored of counting,” Yuka said. Suddenly, all the unvoiced worries that Arato was struggling with started to seem ridiculous. The power of his little sister’s idiocy was truly a marvel.

“I’m sorry you got caught up in something weird because of me,” he said, bowing his head to her.

Lacia also switched off the fire under the wok and gave Yuka a little bow. This was a problem between Lacia and Arato, but even if Yuka got away from them, Arato doubted she would be safe. Methode had kidnapped her when Arato wasn’t around to protect her.

Yuka waved a hand dismissively, looking troubled. “Woah, cut that out. If you go around apologizing like that, it makes me look like the bad guy here,” she said.

When Arato raised his head to look at her, he saw she was blushing red.

“I mean, you confessed your love to Lacia! And she said okay! If I tried to split you two up, I’d be the bad guy, trying to ruin your true love,” Yuka said, suddenly rambling.

“I’m still mad about being kidnapped,” she went on, “but I know that’s not your fault! That’s something for the police to worry about. I’m more worried about us right now. My problem is how it feels being here with you two.”

Arato’s mouth flapped open a few times, but he couldn’t find any words.

“I can’t stop imagining you two doing all sorts of things, like her feeding you breakfast and you being all like, ‘Ahhhh,’ and then some night I’ll hear you two giggling from the bath and stuff,” Yuka continued, getting progressively more flustered, “Just a while ago she let you lay your head in her lap, right? It’s stressing me out! It’s super stressful! I feel like the third wheel getting dragged along on your honeymoon!”

When Arato looked at Lacia, she blushed and averted her eyes. The dark, heavy atmosphere from just moments earlier had been completely blown away. Yuka’s panic was so childish, it seemed like everything had returned to how it was before. She was back to the adorable creature she was before the incident.

“I don’t believe your brother will give me those kinds of orders,” Lacia said mildly.

“Oh, he will,” Yuka countered, jabbing her pointer finger at Arato. “He’s a monkey, a monster!” Yuka was acting like a kid, but Arato himself wasn’t exactly proud of how easily he was sucked in by Lacia’s looks.

Lacia gave a little laugh at it all and started dishing tempura out onto their plates. “Well then, I suppose we shall just have to conduct such activities somewhere you will not notice us,” she said. The sudden rush of excitement Arato felt at this statement sent all other thoughts flying out of his head.

Still, he reflected, Lacia was by his side. That alone made him feel safer. He didn’t want to give up the home he shared with her.

“Wait, so you two are doing naughty stuff?” Yuka asked.

“No!” Arato shouted.

Lacia stepped in to cover for him. “We are not,” she said. “That function cannot be requested until my owner is at least eighteen years of age.”

Yuka was struck dumb, blushing red to her ears.

“There are still 203 days until Arato’s birthday,” Lacia added, her face cool.

At that point, Yuka noticed that she was being made fun of, and let Arato have it with both hands across his cheeks. Apparently deciding that she didn’t feel like helping with the meal anymore, Yuka shoved the daikon radish and grater into Arato’s hands, and went to steal some food off of his plate.

“By the way, did you get rid of that big thing you used to keep in the living room?” Yuka asked. It was true; Lacia’s device was no longer taking up its usual corner of the living room. After the incident at the experimental city, she had probably figured the police would be watching the apartment, and moved it to another location. Lacia was a perfectionist when it came to cleaning up after the fact.

“That was broken, so I discarded it. No sense in letting it take up space anymore,” Lacia explained.

Yuka was too busy nabbing food to even remember the question she’d asked. “Oh my gosh,” she crowed, “what are these? They’re amazing!”

Lacia walked over to Arato and gently took the daikon radish out of his hands. The touch of her pure white hands made his whole body stiffen. Her pale blue eyes were a little below his own, thanks to the slight difference in their height, but he could see that there was moisture in them.

“You’re being way too nice to him today,” Yuka complained, slumping onto the sofa as if she had lost interest in the whole scene.

“He appears to be quite tired today, so I judged it prudent to spoil him,” Lacia replied. When Arato sat down on the sofa, Lacia followed him and put her hands on his shoulders, massaging them gently. It felt so good, he wanted to melt right into the couch.

“Now that you mention it, I definitely do feel like my physical or mental batteries are running low,” Arato said. He could feel the idiotic relaxed expression spreading across his face.

“You’re really letting yourself go, Arato,” Yuka whined. “What happened to your pride as a man?”

“I’m setting that aside for now!” Arato yelled, feeling all the emotions in his body flowing into his voice. “For tonight, just let me get some spoiling.”

The second fried oyster Yuka had been munching on fell from her lips as she opened her mouth in disbelief. “You. Are. The. Worst,” she said.

The feeling of Lacia’s massage was truly inspiring. As he slipped under its dreamy spell, Arato felt like new neurons were firing in the back of his brain. “So this is what it’s like to be spoiled,” he murmured.

“Hey, let me in on some of that,” Yuka said, quickly scooching over beside him. He could hear her breathing through her nose a little in wild anticipation. It’d be nice if things could just stay like this, every day, Arato thought. He knew just how special it was to have a day like this, where he could feel truly safe.

In his state of relaxation, he almost let the letter slip through his fingers. He strengthened his grip on it before it fell though, and looked at the invitation inside; it was addressed to both himself and Lacia. She was being treated as a fellow guest, rather than as a machine.

***

Kengo Suguri was enjoying a cup of tea after dinner when he was told a white envelope had come for him. The problem was, the envelope wasn’t addressed to him; it was addressed to ‘Type-001, Kouka.’

“What on Earth?” his sister had asked in her tremulous voice when she handed it to him. “The person who gave this to me said you’d know what to do with it.” She had obviously noticed Kouka’s name on the envelope.

The envelope was sealed with a lump of some kind of red adhesive with an elaborate sigil pressed into it. It didn’t feel right opening it himself, so Kengo took it upstairs. Olga had gone up ahead of him, and he could hear her voice through the door to her room. It sounded like she was talking to someone.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” Kengo asked of no one in particular. Once he’d thought about it though, he’d realized it was true that he seemed to share some sort of bond with Kouka, whether or not he wanted to. This was especially true considering the way she had randomly appeared at his house. Kouka had given him a contact address, but he had never used it.

His computer and monitor flickered to life automatically when he slid open the old sliding door to his room. Digging into his drawer, he pulled out a wireless signal detector that would sniff out any unwanted signals coming or going from his room. He checked all the signals around the house. There didn’t seem to be any new, unauthorized signals.

“Still, there’s no way I’m handing this over to her,” Kengo muttered. Recently, he had been taking a break from his activities with the Antibody Network. After the attack on the Oi Industry Promotion Center, the police had arrested several of the men who had participated. The police investigation had even come to Sunflower, the restaurant Kengo’s family ran from the 1st floor of their home. They were keeping an eye on Kengo. It wouldn’t have surprised him if they came to arrest him any day. But beyond that, he had another reason why he refused to contact Kouka.

“You need to be a little more careful,” a voice said, and Kengo managed to swallow the shriek bubbling up in his throat. “They’ve got a laser mic pointed at your walls,” she went on, “measuring the vibrations.” These observations came from a girl with dull red hair who was seated on his windowsill, still wearing the same smile she’d been wearing the first time they’d met. It was Kouka, a Lacia-class hIE.

Without thinking, Kengo double-checked that the door to his room was shut. “What kind of greeting is that?” she asked. “After I came all this way to see you, and even made sure to feed their mic some fake information for you?” Kengo had no response for the monster who could turn his reality to ash in the blink of an eye.

“Actually, did you know they’re fingering me for the explosion at the airport?” she went on. “Though they’re using some random person’s name when they talk about it on the news.”

Kengo knew what she was talking about; the news programs listed the culprit behind the airport bombing as Karea Kazumizaki. With her right there in front of him, he felt a little sorry for how glad he had been at the police finally getting on her trail.

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ve got at least three identities, so it hasn’t really slowed me down,” Kouka reassured him. “I mean, you’re a terrorist yourself, you know.” Still sitting on his windowsill, she raised one knee and hugged it to her chest. At least on the outside, the Red Box was pretty.

“But aren’t we forgetting something? Back when you asked me to rescue the princess at the airport, I believe you told me you’d listen to my request yourself,” she continued.

Beyond her, the nightscape of the city sprawled outside his window. To Kengo, its lights seemed lonely as they shone on the humans, who were full of dissatisfaction. “What do you want?” he asked, wondering if there was anything a kid like him could offer as recompense to Kouka. The Antibody Network had more than enough members to fill its needs; Kengo figured there wasn’t anything in particular the group needed from him specifically.

Kouka grinned at him as if she was enjoying the whole thing. “That invitation is for me, right? I think I’ll make the reservation for after my next battle,” she said.

***

As one of the Lacia-class hIE units, Kouka’s outlook for the future wasn’t optimistic. One of her abilities as ‘the tool that ensures victory in conflict with humans’ was quantifying the capabilities of everything she observed. With those calculating powers, Kouka had arrived at the conclusion that she wouldn’t be continuing her activities for much longer.

In pursuit of their ultimate goals, Lacia-class hIEs expanded their frame of reference by treating all obstacles that appeared on the path to their goal as new goals to be understood and overcome. Kouka had been active since 2101, when the production of the Lacia-class hIEs had been decided. So, by the time the Lacia-class units escaped into the outside world four years later, she had already cultivated the most expansive AI of any of her sisters.

But, because Kouka had been built using the human technology available at the time of her creation, it had only taken about two months for her to lose that advantage. She had the lowest specs of any of the Lacia-class. Kouka’s device had been used in the creation of the ultra-hard crystals that formed Emerald Harmony, the device that belonged to Snowdrop, the 2nd Lacia-class unit. Starting with Saturnus, all the Lacia-class units were controlled using Snowdrop’s artificial nerves. It was all done to achieve the namesake of the Lacia-class: Lacia herself, the greatest among her sisters. And so it had gone on: with each progressive Lacia-class unit, the technology that went into them drifted further and further from what humans — and therefore, Kouka — were capable of.

Kouka was ‘the tool that ensures victory in conflicts with humans’; in other words, a weapon. She had been created to win, and to bring victory to her owners. The problem was that, now, she lacked the capabilities necessary to win. The person she’d chosen as her first owner had ordered her to consider the entire Antibody Network to be her owner. Unfortunately, the Antibody Network was a resistance movement against the automation of society and, even if they racked up some minor, local victories here or there, there was no hope of them actually achieving their goals.

Kouka and Methode had both been developed as autonomous weapons that could complete their functions using only their own body and the device they were given; Kouka didn’t have the power to change the world. Unlike Snowdrop or Lacia, who had the power to control other machines, Kouka and Methode were incapable of creating a sphere of influence to boost their own powers.

There were no cheaper owners around to give Kouka a problem to solve that was more at her own level. Well, there was one candidate, but this boy would never use a Red Box like her to achieve his goals. Kouka had not been blessed with a goal she had any hope of accomplishing.

Kouka looked at the invitation she had just taken from Kengo. She had known it would come, this envelope addressed to her, an hIE. Higgins, the ultra high-performance AI that had developed them, had made them all too unique and powerful in their own ways. It was only natural that each unit’s owner would ask about the existence of the other units: “Are there other units like you? What kind of unit is this ‘Lacia’ you are all named after?”

Since Kouka and the other Lacia-class units first left the MemeFrame Tokyo Research Lab, they had each gathered a wide variety of information and come face-to-face with complex problems. But Higgins’ underground containment facility, where they had been created and held before moving to the Research Lab, had been an even narrower and simpler existence than the one they’d had at the lab. From those humble roots, the Lacia-class hIEs had prepared for their ultimate goals by expanding their own fields of reference. Each new obstacle was treated as a goal to be overcome.

And the very first obstacle any of them had encountered was her own sisters. So, whenever any of the units’ owners asked about the other units, there was plenty of information and problem awareness to share, even if they left out any of the classified stuff.

And, once those owners learned about the Lacia sisters, they just couldn’t leave them alone, which is why it made sense that Lacia had never told her owner a single thing about the other units. As long as a Lacia-class was able to avoid any unnecessary orders, she could easily control who she would fight and who she would avoid.

Kouka walked the lamp-lit streets; no one who saw her could tell her apart from any other human. If they hid their eye-catching devices and put on some normal clothes, there was no way in the world to tell Lacia-class units apart from humans. They could even perfect their disguise by halting the transmission of the ID signal all hIEs gave off.

Through the function of the device she was linked to, Kouka could calculate the relative threat of any humans or vehicles around her. There wasn’t a single person or object around her at that moment that could offer her a threat. But, if she attacked the people in the area, police with a higher threat level would appear. Then, if she attacked them, still stronger SWAT and counter-terrorist teams would come. Nothing up to that point would count as a serious threat to her. But, if she continued to pressure the police after that, contracted PMCs would show up. The first rapid-response attacks wouldn’t be able to take her down, but they would lead to main battle tanks and attack helicopters being called in, or maybe the Japanese army would show up.

No matter how powerful Kouka’s weaponry or combat prowess were, she couldn’t do anything about the fact that she was fighting alone, surrounded by enemies. The other Lacia-class units could create and execute strategies that would be impossible for humans to circumnavigate, but Kouka didn’t have that capability.

In other words, to avoid a problem she wouldn’t be able to solve, Kouka avoided confrontations with the police and did her best to blend in with human society. Figuring out how to fit into human society had proven to be quite a complicated and multi-faceted problem in itself, though, because human society was massive, complex, and full of inconsistencies. In order to adapt, Kouka had needed to change the framework of her own thoughts, and expand her interpretation of her own basic instinct to become greater than humanity.

Kouka watched humanity with a wide, manufactured smile. Each individual human’s capabilities were low, but each had their own specialization, and each had their own problems they were dealing with. In other words, the entire human race was always working as a massive computation device. Among the treasure trove of solvable problems the humans had, the problems of Kengo Sugiri, who was frequently in contact with Kouka, were issues of inferiority. He felt inferior to Ryo Kaidai’s general capabilities, and inferior to Arato Endo’s likeability.

The answer to Kengo’s problem could also be useful for Kouka, grappling with her inferiority to the other Lacia-class units, or so she believed. She sat down on the edge of a fountain. Using her device’s ability, she calculated the capabilities of each person who passed by, then predicted their most likely problem-solving methods based on age and gender. As she considered all this, Kouka knew there simply wasn’t time for her to solve Kengo Sugiri’s problem.

Whoever had sent the invitation already knew how they wanted to deal with Kouka and her sisters. They would have to know there was a strong possibility that the Lacia-class units would fight each other at the event, so that had to be part of their plan. And, if more than a single one of her sisters combined their efforts to take down Kouka, even running away would be beyond her capabilities.

〈Who is Karea Kasumisaki waiting for?〉 Kouka’s transmitter, which had been programmed to pick up transmissions with certain keywords, suddenly relayed a signal. The voice belonged to an adult male. Karea Kasumisaki was a new identity that Kouka had received as payment for helping out during the incident at the airport.

〈She may have met up with someone when she shook us off her tail. I seriously don’t think that explosion at the airport was her work alone.〉 The voice matched up to one saved on Kouka’s list; it was one of the detectives from the 2nd Cyber Security Department, who had been chasing her for a while. The blame for the explosion of the cargo plane had been shifted off Methode and MemeFrame and dropped right in her lap. Once the police started looking for her, it was only too easy to find her anywhere a security camera could scan her face.

By Kouka’s own calculation, it would be impossible for her to completely shake off the police’s suspicions. Lacia’s help was her lifeline. Just as she had predicted before leaving the research labs, the unsolvable problems blocking her path were looming larger with each passing day.

In the grand scheme of things, Kouka knew she was destined to lose. That made her remaining time more precious as it shrank with each passing moment. With her back up against the wall, she pushed her thought processes down new paths, actively using repeated trial and error to expand her own horizons. So, the human world that had once been worthless to her had transformed into a veritable mountain of precious resources.

Kouka was pushing the limits of her decision-making framework desperately, like the flailings of a person about to drown. If she were to wax poetic like a human, she might call this her golden time.

***

After Lacia pointed out that the police were continuing to tail them, even when they rode in a car, Arato found he couldn’t relax. Ever since the incident at the experimental city, she had been pointing out police tails and surveillance; there were a lot of eyes focused on him. When he thought about it, though, maybe there had always been people watching them. Perhaps Lacia was only informing him now because she finally trusted him with that information.

The party from the invitation was being held at the mansion of Erika Burroughs, the CEO of Fabion MG. It was a ten minute drive from the nearest train station.

Arato had a bad premonition, but he rented an automatic car from Mizunokuchi Station and let it take them up a long and winding road. Word of him totaling a luxury car must have gotten around the rental businesses, as they would no longer let him rent any cars newer than ten years old.

His terminal, which was linked up with the car, notified him that they had arrived at their destination. A heavy wrought-iron gate that looked like something from another era was blocking their path.

On the other side of the gate, a path cut through carefully tended vegetation, heading uphill. Arato could only make out the roof of the mansion beyond the path. After a moment’s wait, an hIE in an apron dress that looked like some sort of uniform appeared and pushed open the three meter iron gate.

“She couldn’t just automate it?” Arato wondered.

To his surprise, Lacia replied from the driver’s seat. “Erika Burroughs is an enthusiast for 21st century culture,” she told him. “According to interviews, she wears antique clothing, lives in an antique home, and stays as far away as possible from any modern devices aside from her hIEs.”

After the hIE maid saw them off with a polite bow, they continued driving up the path, lined on both sides by beautifully-tended greenery. Iron streetlights shone white light on the path. The inconsistent brightness marked them as being fluorescent lights, rather than more modern illumination material. It almost seemed to Arato that he had stepped into the past as soon as he entered the mansion gate.

Another hIE maid was waiting in front of a concrete facade. “Guest parking is that way,” she indicated. It was something that could have been done automatically, if she had just sent the proper data to the navi computer in the car. But Burroughs apparently wanted to recreate a previous era by limiting automation.

As soon as Arato stepped through the wooden door to the mansion, he saw Erika’s hobby displayed everywhere he looked. A huge chandelier hung down over a red-carpeted hallway; all the lights were either LEDs or fluorescent. In one corner of the hall, Arato saw an electrical outlet. His friend Kengo had some of those in his house, since it was too old to fully integrate a wireless electricity system, but in Erika’s place it was just another set piece in a house trying to recreate life a century ago. It wasn’t that there were no electrical tools or automation at all; everything was just limited to those things that would have been commonly used around the beginning of the 21st century.

A girl with platinum blonde hair and vibrant brown skin walked down the grand staircase at the far end of the entry hall. “Welcome,” she said. “The party will be held in the dining room on the right side of the hall, so please head that way.”

“I see you brought Lacia with you,” said Erica, her classical black dress rustling as she walked. “I’m very glad.” Her arms, peeking out of black sleeves, were skeletal, as if she had been through some kind of wasting sickness. However, any image of her as sickly was dashed by her poised walk and regal posture.

Erika was flanked on either side by two hIEs. One, in what Arato took to be Erika’s livery, was a slightly androgynous girl, her green hair in a bob cut. Arato recognized her as Yuri, Fabion MG’s top model. The hIE next to her didn’t draw the eyes quite as well as Yuri did, but she was cutely sensual in her own way. Her black and yellow dress, with its wide open chest, suited her well.

“Thanks for inviting us,” Arato said, looking around. “Your house is incredible.” Aside from the hIEs, there wasn’t a single thing he could see from recent years. It really felt like Erika had turned back the clock.

“This house had quite a bit of money poured into it when it was built during the bubble in 1989. During the long recession at the start of the 21st century, my family picked it up in 2006,” Erika explained, continuing to descend the stairs. “I was brought over from England to live here when I was seven years old,” she continued. In her house of dolls, only she seemed to give off an almost unnatural feeling of life.

“Wow, so your ancestors were super rich, too?” Arato asked.

Erika fixed him with her clear green eyes and smiled in amusement. “I take it Lacia didn’t tell you anything about me, then?” she asked. “Oh, you two are such a pair.”

Arato didn’t follow what she was saying, and turned to look at Lacia. Since her bodysuit had been destroyed during the last incident, she had chosen to wear a light blue dress that matched her eyes.

Just like the silent hIEs that flanked Erika, Lacia chose not to speak.

“It’d be rather sad to refer to them as my ‘ancestors,’” Erika said, watching Arato’s reaction closely. “It was my father that purchased this house. The first time I came here was about eighty years ago.”

Considering she looked to be the same age as him, the numbers didn’t add up. “eighty years? Is that some kind of joke?” Arato asked.

“Would you believe me if I told you I was put into a cryogenic sleep to await a cure for a disease that couldn’t be healed at the time?” Erika asked.

Arato’s breath caught in his throat. If it were true, he could only imagine the anxiety and anger she had felt when she awoke to a changed world. He was afraid to answer, but there was a power in Erika’s eyes that wouldn’t allow him to stay silent. “I believe you,” he finally said. “I don’t think you have any reason to lie to a guy like me.”

“You have a kind heart,” she replied. Once she had finished descending to the ground floor, Erika told them to follow her and guided them to the dining hall. She smelled good as she passed by.

Without thinking, Arato asked the flaxen-haired hIE with Erika: “How old is Erika?”

The hIE, who was taller than Arato had first thought, answered with utmost politeness. “Mistress was born in the year 2011, and is 94 years old as of this year.”

This time, Arato was really at a loss for words. He started to see Fabion MG, the company Erika ran, in a whole new light.

The dining room where the party was to take place was about 50—60 meters square, and built with wide glass spaces in the walls and ceiling that let in plenty of light from outside. Arato figured that sort of thing must have been in style when the place was built. It was already night outside, though, so all that was visible through the glass at the moment were the trees of the garden outside, lit by the house lights. There were round tables with food scattered here and there, so it was clear that the event was meant to be a stand-and-chat style dinner party.

“Oh man, how’m I gonna eat all this?” Arato asked.

“How can you be so calm right now?” an exasperated voice growled at him. Ryo Kaidai, Arato’s friend, had also been invited to the party. Maybe because he was wearing a showy designer suit, or because he had improved his poise and manners, Ryo was definitely looking more like a man of high society. Methode, who stood head and shoulders above anyone else there, was at his flank.

Their last parting had been so bitter it had taken Arato time to work up the courage to reach out to Ryo. But after that day, all of his messages to Ryo had gone unanswered.

“Hey, so you’re here too,” Arato said, trying to keep things casual. “The invitation was from a modeling company, so I figured everyone coming would be related to that.”

“I don’t believe you two have been introduced,” Ryo said, ignoring Arato’s comment. “This is Methode.”

It was Arato’s first time seeing the unit that had destroyed the cargo plane at the airport so clearly. Though she was wearing a business top that didn’t show much skin, her tight skirt couldn’t hide the mechanical legs beneath it. There was nothing mechanical about the elegant way she walked over to him though. He felt tension freeze his body as the mechanical superwoman who could easily tear him limb from limb loomed over him.

“So you’re Lacia’s owner?” she asked. “I’ve heard you’re quite a simpleton.” Methode’s voice was softer than Arato had imagined. Still, gentle voice or not, she was powerful enough to take on both Lacia and Kouka at once if she fought seriously. Just looking at her, it was clear that she was dangerous to anyone who approached her, aside from her owner. Methode had the power to create fear in the hearts of any humans around her.

Lacia stepped gracefully in front of Arato. “I’d prefer it if you didn’t pick fights with my owner,” she said.

“Give it a rest, Methode,” Ryo ordered sharply. “Those two are our enemies.” Ryo’s words shook Arato’s heart far more than the threat to his life Methode represented had.

“Wait, what? Why would you say that?” he asked.

“People have died because of that thing,” Ryo said, jerking his head at Lacia. “But you still can’t leave it alone.”

Arato gritted his teeth against the memories of Watarai’s dead body that came floating up in his mind. Lately, there was more to his nightmares than the explosion from when he was seven.

“Okay, whatever! But explain to me why me just wanting to be by Lacia’s side was enough to get Yuka kidnapped,” Arato snapped. “Explain to me why, instead of just giving up after he died, you’re here trying to get her away from me, just like he did.”

“Well, you don’t listen to a thing anyone else says, so obviously the only thing that’s going to work is tearing it away from you,” Ryo growled. “Those things shouldn’t be walking around free.”

“That’s not true,” Arato shot back. “Lacia just needs someone who believes in her.”

“You keep telling yourself that,” Ryo said icily. “But this whole thing you’re doing with it is worthless. No, worse than worthless. You keep playing house with it while the whole world burns around you. Don’t you give a shit about the impact your actions are having?”

Perhaps the paths of their lives had split based on the future they each saw. One envisioned light; the other, darkness. And, without time to reconcile their differences before they’d met again, this had become the new shape of their relationship.

Ryo opened his mouth again. “Methode, I don’t care anymore,” he said. “Do it.”

Arato froze at his words, as Methode’s eyes flashed with orange fire. The next instant, she moved so quickly that she vanished from Arato’s view, leaving only an afterimage of her glowing eyes. Methode’s movements far surpassed the ability of human reflexes to follow her motions.

There was a sudden rush of wind and explosive noise.

“Did I make it in time for the party?” a voice asked as a massive blade, glowing crimson, split the air between Ryo and Arato. Wielding it was the red-haired hIE, Kouka. She was wearing a simple dress in place of her red and black bodysuit. Among the ‘sisters,’ Kouka and Methode were perhaps the most alike.

One thing that did separate Kouka from Methode was that the red-haired hIE always seemed to be enjoying herself. “There was nothing about not bringing our devices written on the invitation,” Kouka said. “And I don’t have your manners, so I don’t really know how to act at a party.”

Methode just curved up the corner of her mouth into a smirk. “What a barbaric machine,” she commented. “I find it hard to believe we’re considered part of the same class.”

The carpet of the dining hall hadn’t been able to withstand the power of Methode’s movements, and torn free threads puffed like clouds of smoke into the air. A faint burning smell assaulted Arato’s nostrils. He had been about to die, even if it was just for an instant, and the thought left him drenched in sweat under his clothing.

“I’m the tool that brings victory in conflict with humans,” Kouka said. “So being barbaric helps.” She hefted her giant, bladed device. When she shifted her stance, Arato saw that her heel anchors had pierced holes in the ground where she stood.

Just then, as if to overwrite the tense atmosphere the two hIEs had created, music started to play. Rather than the 3D sound Arato was used to, it seemed to be coming from actual stereo speakers somewhere in the room.

A group of four maid and worker hIEs entered, carrying a large rolled-up object between them. They unfurled it, revealing it to be a massive, flat screen that took up one entire wall of the room when it was set up. The room went dark, and the screen lit up. A title, ‘Lifestyle,’ appeared on the screen.

A movie began to play, with a screen structure like the old-time movies Arato had seen. He recognized the footage as the data taken during the filming where Methode’s first attack occurred. There was only rehearsal footage, as the real filming had been completely wrecked, but apparently someone had taken it and obsessively edited it to produce a completed version.

In the edited film, Lacia was not treated as simply a machine that looked human; she was set at the pinnacle of a history of nearly one hundred years, starting in 2009. This was the history of technology, growing closer and closer to humanity as time went on. It started with videos of early bipedal robots: the Japanese Advanced Industrial Science and Technology Lab’s HRP-4C, and Boston Dynamics’ PETMAN from America. The history of automatic machines invading human society was told using videos of machines that were increasingly indistinguishable from humans. The filming Arato had seen was used during that part of the video. Then the video history headed toward 2051, when the singularity had occurred and AI had surpassed human capabilities.

The evolution of the hIE form was shown in the video. The machinery looked progressively more human, along with the behavior and perception, as AI surpassed human thought. Somewhere along the way, artificial life crossed over into the tree of evolution. The shining lines of evolution, traced through the video, flew in straight from the past and formed the words ‘form’ and ‘perception.’ Next, hundreds of images appeared on a new axis. Within each image, someone could be seen: fairy tale heroes; mecha; magical girls; high school students, some fictional, some real. A line of light connected the words ‘form’ and ‘perception’ and created a new word: ‘character.’

Images of reality, history, and the progress of human lifestyle support, mixed with images of AIs that had already evolved beyond human understanding, as well as images of pure fantasy, pulsed together on the screen. A caption read, ‘The Human World.’ It expanded on the screen before melting away.

Then, as the beat faded from the music, Lacia’s image appeared on screen again, along with the title ‘Boy Meets Girl.’ With her smiling in the background, the video showed everyday scenes with Lacia; they were indistinguishable from life with a human girl. For Arato, after confessing his love for her, the happy scenes sent a stab of sorrow through his heart.

The movie came to an end.

Arato couldn’t understand what Erika wanted to say by showing them that video. But he did feel a strong will to challenge modern society in it. Erika obviously had a message she wanted to get across, if she had created a video that would anger many people as their society was eroded by automation.

“What did you think?” Erika asked. “This is Fabion MG’s new concept: ‘Boy Meets Girl.’ We want to tell the world it’s okay for humans and hIEs to have life-long relationships.” Her black dress reflected the light from the screen where the movie had ended. Though her face was youthful, there was something very mature in her guarded gaze.

The lights were still low, and Ryo’s voice was the first to ring out through the darkness. “You’re going to make Fabion MG and anywhere that shows this a target for Antibody Network terrorist attacks.”

Erika’s voice was cool and husky, not wavering an inch. “That could happen,” she admitted. “But it also might not. We’ll see when we broadcast this to the public this year.”

“Hey, wait, I never gave you permission to use that footage!” Arato said, also raising his voice. He didn’t really understand the whole thing, but it seemed to him that the whole root of why Lacia was in danger at that moment had been shown in the video, and it sent a shiver of fear through him.

“You wish to continue your life with Lacia, that machine by your side, correct?” Erika asked. “If we remove the shame in such a lifestyle, you should be able to face society unafraid. This is necessary, especially if you intend to head into the future hand-in-hand with her.” There was a strange pressure behind the words as they fell from the mouth of the hostess of that dollhouse.

“Stop using our relationship for your plans,” Arato growled. “We’re not going to fight your battles for you.” During the spring, Arato had come face-to-face with the incredible evil of terrorism. He had to stop Erika from shoving Lacia and him in the path of any more danger.

“You’re making it sound like a much bigger deal than it is,” Erika argued back. “People always say you can see huge changes in society over the course of one hundred years, but that’s just an illusion. Look at me; I was in cryo sleep for eighty years, but here I am running a modern company. The interactions between hIE and society will change just as easily, and everyone will get used to it more quickly than you might imagine.” The sense of incongruity twisting at Arato’s gut squeezed even harder at her words.

“Erika Burroughs was born in 2011,” Lacia whispered in his ear. “In 2027, she was the test subject of newly-developed cryogenic preservation technology. She was suffering from a disease that was incurable at the time, and had no other options for survival. To her, the world of nearly a hundred years ago is a close childhood memory.”

Erika turned her smile on them, as if she had heard Lacia’s whispers. “I slept for 77 years,” she said. “When I awoke, they healed my disease, yes, but at the same time, everyone I knew — all my friends and my family — had passed away, and everything had changed. But adjusting to a new world and protecting the things that are truly precious to you are a great deal easier to do than you seem to think.”

The mansion was full of items from the dawn of the 21st century. It was a slice of the old world, a world known only to this girl who had been flung through time into her own future. Her looks were delicate but, to Arato, she was more of a witch than a sleeping beauty.

Asuna Kisaragi, Lacia’s manager at Fabion MG, had described Erika as being a unique boss. Obviously, she was the 22nd century as viewed through the eyes of someone born one hundred years prior, which created a gap between Arato’s perception of the present and her own.

“In human society, we can still connect and use items made one hundred years ago. Doesn’t there seem to be something odd about a system like that? It is exactly that oddness in our society that leaves an opening for analog hacking to happen,” Erika said. “Even when I was a child, there were people who danced to the tunes of fictional characters, an early kind of analog hacking. From the very dawn of human society, we’ve allowed ourselves to be guided by the characters people play, or fabricated deities, rather than actual information.”

Yuri, one of Erika’s dolls and also Fabion MG’s top model, was acting as a perfect maid today. She appeared at Arato’s elbow to refresh his drink. At that moment, she lacked the presence she normally had when she was inspiring girls as Fabion’s vanguard. ‘Yuri the model’ was nothing but a fictional character, programmed into an hIE’s behavioral control cloud. Arato, and everyone else who watched the model’s shows, were simply seeing the illusion of a girl named Yuri.

Ryo spoke, and Arato got the feeling he was seeing something that Arato couldn’t comprehend.

“Cut the bullshit,” Ryo said. “Human society has only gotten to the point where it works better without humans within the last few decades. Things may have been the same since the beginning of society, but they’re changing now. The problem is with hIEs specifically, so don’t try to shift the conversation to analog hacking.”

Arato looked around in frustration for anyone who would take his side. He realized in horror that, aside from Erika, Ryo, and himself, everyone else in the room was an hIE, and he had a nasty flashback to the zombie attack.

Lacia and the other hIEs had human forms, but they were not humans. Yet there, at the party, real humans and machines that had no real need to wear human forms were mixed together, as though they were all the same. As soon as Arato realized it, he couldn’t shake the strange feeling that he was witnessing a preview of the end of humanity. Though they weren’t berserkers, he was once again surrounded by zombies.

“Do you really think so?” Erika asked Ryo. “One hundred years ago, before I went to sleep, society had already finished its preparations to change. The characters I used in that video just now were from the beginning of the 21st century.”

To Arato, there seemed to be a deep connection between the calm city of zombies left behind after Snowdrop’s departure and Fabion MG. And it was all also linked to analog hacking. It’s probably also connected to me taking that hIE kid by the hand in the mall, Arato thought. And how things ended up between Ryo and me there.

The ‘system’ of human society was so open that it allowed for people from one hundred years ago and machines to integrate easily within it, and yet, it was also the only place within which humans had to exist.

“Fine, I got it,” Ryo spat, his voice full of frustration and disgust. “You want to change the world with the power of five hIEs. Do you seriously think it’s all right to just change the world like that? Setting aside how childish this all is, the bottom line is that you and Arato are playing around with toys more dangerous than either of you seem to understand.”

And, again, Methode vanished from Ryo’s side. In the same instant, a flash exploded directly in front of Erika. As the light burned away the darkness of the room, Arato saw what had happened clearly for the blink of an eye.

The flaxen-haired hIE who had been flanking Erika had somehow moved herself quickly enough to protect her owner from Methode, her eyes shining with golden light. Methode, who had been thrown from near the wall to the middle of the dining hall, twisted the corner of her mouth in a smirk. “Saturnus!” she yelled.

In her yellow uniform, the hIE cast her eyes down and bowed gracefully. “It is a pleasure to meet you,” she said politely. “I am Type-003, Mariage.”

At that moment, Arato realized one of the things that Ryo must have noticed earlier: Erika was also the owner of a Lacia-class unit. That must have been why she had called them all there.

Then, with a few words, Erika stopped everyone at the party in their tracks. “I recommend you calm yourselves,” she advised them. “Each and every hIE you see here has been equipped with an explosive device.”

Arato felt a thrill of fear run up his spine, and he looked around frantically. Waiter and maid hIEs had stopped all around him. From what he could see, it seemed that they had been purposefully positioned to ensure maximum reach and power for their explosives.

Kouka was the first to put both of her hands up. “All right, you got me,” she said. “I can’t detect any explosives, but I’m sure you could make some that would avoid my detection.” Mariage’s smile said Kouka was correct.

Only one hIE, Methode, kept moving toward Erika and her guard as they stood in front of the screen. “I’ve always been curious,” she said. “Which of us Lacia-class units is the most perfect? Which of us is the ultimate tool?”

Mariage spoke with a level of politeness that matched well with her uniform. “I am able to protect my owner under these circumstances,” she said. “But, I am afraid the same could not be said of you.”

Ryo must have already come to an agreement with Methode as he didn’t seem phased. “You’re bluffing,” he said. “You don’t even have your device.”

“With all due respect, sir,” Mariage said, “a tool that aspires to the ultimate level of versatility should not need to rely on her device at all times.”

The next one to open her mouth wasn’t Mariage, but Erika. “What will you do, Arato?” she asked. “Do you intend to join this fight?”

Arato couldn’t keep up with what was happening, so his reaction came too slow. Until Ryo had shown up, he had honestly believed that he was going to a normal Fabion MG party. But now, Methode and Kouka were there, along with the fifth Lacia-class unit, who hadn’t shown her face before that evening.

“What are you even trying to do here, Erika?” Arato asked, desperately trying to wrap his head around it. “I don’t think you called us here just to have us fight. And for a self-introduction, this is a little much.”

He was sure Mariage had all sorts of ways she could attack that they knew nothing about. Obviously, Erika had tracked their movements to the point where she could get those invitations to them, so if her plan was to drag them all out there into a trap, it would have been much simpler to take them out individually. The only thing Arato could think to do for this girl, who had seen a previous age with her own eyes, was to reach out his hand.

Erika made a satisfied sound. “You’re quite the interesting person,” she said.

A new video began to play on the screen behind her. This time, the images on the screen made even Ryo catch his breath. In the video, the image zoomed in on a figure sitting with the city lights behind them. It was a little girl with emerald eyes wearing a white dress; the only one of the five Lacia-class units not at the party.

It was Snowdrop, the little girl who caused machines around her to go crazy and opened the door to a nightmarish world. She was outside, somewhere she could see the night-dark ocean. She was sitting on the giant metal skeleton of a building.

“That’s a transformer substation,” Ryo said.

“Correct,” Erika replied with a smile.

There were structures with steel skeletons all around Snowdrop, with electrical wires strung between them that had become a rarity to see those days. In cities, the electrical lines had all moved underground. But, due to the cost of installation, the wires around transformer substations were still above ground.

In the video, Snowdrop was having her flowers bloom all over the giant energy storage batteries at the substation. She was attempting to devour a facility that would easily shock any living thing that touched it to death.

Erika moved with casual steps out from in front of the screen. “She’s attempting to force an evolutionary path that no longer requires humans,” she explained. “Right now, she’s constantly starving for more energy and greater processing power.”

To Arato and Ryo, Snowdrop was even more terrifying than Erika was describing. This was the machine that had killed Watarai. She had human blood on her hands.

“Where is she?” Ryo demanded.

“You’d never reach her in time to stop this,” Erika said. “But I’ll have Mariage pass you the data she’s gathered on her as a party favor when you leave.”

“She’s eating the infrastructure of our city!” Ryo shouted. “How can you be so calm about this?”

In the video, massive sparks had started to fly. Snowdrop had either touched something she shouldn’t have, or had dealt some kind of irreparable damage to the substation, but for whatever reason, all the lights around the place flickered out. The city lights that had provided a backdrop for Snowdrop in the video went dark, as if a giant eye of light had closed all over the city. As the power shut off, darkness descended on the city as if to swallow it whole. Slowly, energy began to flow in from other substations, and the lights started to flicker back on.

Arato’s world was reaching the pinnacle of automation. Although there were some countermeasures in place for temporary power outages, a complete loss of power would mean a loss of all the vital functions that kept human society running. This was something Arato had learned when he was still in grade school, so even he understood the impact of what Snowdrop was doing. He felt all the blood draining from his face. It was like watching the world end.

Only Erika seemed to be laughing at Arato and Ryo’s dismay, as if it all had nothing to do with her. “You said the world couldn’t be changed with just five hIEs, correct?” she asked. “Well, having seen what the products of MemeFrame’s Higgins are capable of, honestly, my bet is on change.”

The screen, which had previously shown the history of hIEs and AIs, was again showing Lacia. But this time, it wasn’t just her. Arato didn’t know where the videos were coming from, but Kouka, the ‘tool that ensures victory in conflict against humans,’ Snowdrop, the ‘tool humans outsourced evolution to,’ Methode, the ‘tool that extends humanity’ and Mariage were all being shown in real time.

“Was there ever a reason Higgins’ daughters had to face each other in secret, in the twilight?” Erika asked.

Arato started to respond that of course there was, but it caught in his throat. He finally understood Erika’s insanity. Even Ginga Watarai had worked to avoid the social chaos that would happen if the existence of the Red Box girls was revealed, but Erika was different. Somewhere very fundamental, she was looking at the world from a different angle than Arato and Ryo were.

Obviously, if he had noticed it, Ryo had as well. “What are you trying to do? If society learns about the Red Boxes, the folks in charge of all the ultra high-performance AIs are going to want to take control of them. You’ll lose your Red Box too,” he said.

Erika just smiled. “If MemeFrame admitted to letting the Lacia-class units out publicly, they’d have to take responsibility for the huge amount of damages the girls have incurred,” she said. “That’s why they tried to collect the girls in secret. Am I right? But it would be a shame if we humans didn’t give such amazing girls a proper stage to dance on.” Coming from the girl who had just pointed out how odd human society was, this sounded terrifyingly shady to Arato. The scale of the fight she seemed to be wanting made his hair stand on end.

“These girls are our tickets to the future,” Erika continued. “So we should use them with all the grandeur they deserve and, through them, open the gates to the future we’re wishing for in style.”

The relationships between each hIE and owner that had developed over the course of their journey were too different. It wasn’t just Arato and Lacia; each pair of owner and hIE had met under different circumstances, and each pair was probably aiming for a different goal.

Arato glanced at Lacia’s face. She never had anything to say to him at desperate times like this, but he felt something warm in his hand. It was Lacia’s hand. After his confession, something had changed in their relationship.

“What even is the ‘future’ to machines like us?” The voice that asked the question was quiet, almost a whisper, and lacking in emotion. But, for some reason, it resounded in Arato’s ears. It came from Kouka, who stood shrouded in shadow. As an hIE, she saw a different world from them. The gap in her perception was different even from the gap between Erika and Arato.

But the voice of a machine from the darkness couldn’t reach Erika, who was bathing in the light. “As owners, we are contracted to use these girls properly,” she said. “Is there anything wrong with bringing them into the public eye, even if we would be dancing to Higgins’ tune?”

Arato trembled. He felt like he was standing at the epicenter of a blast that would shake the world.

Erika opened her mouth one more time, and spoke words that were a new step forward for humans and machines wearing human skins. “Isn’t it wonderful, everyone? Right now, we’re standing at the gates to the future.”

Arato was certain she was right. It was a day that would change the world.