by Satoshi Hase
“Don’t say it like that,” Suzuhara whined. “We’re both in the same boat, after all.”
Ryo shrugged, because Suzuhara was right. “I’m just glad someone’s going to let me talk with Higgins, even if it means I get used in the process,” he said.
The air in the car was so tense, it felt like electricity was running along Ryo’s skin. He had faced fierce criticism from the Higgins Faction when he had delayed destroying Snowdrop in order to attack Lacia. Folks from the 2nd Computer Division of the National Police Agency, who had previously been investigating Arato Endo, were now also on Ryo’s tail. To the company, Ryo was dead on the board, with no future to speak of. If everything he had done came to light, he would be locked up immediately, regardless of his age.
No one from either MemeFrame’s Computer or Human Faction could openly support him. If they weren’t so afraid of Methode, Ryo would have been discarded already. Even the fact that he was still allowed to walk around free meant that there was currently a plan being calculated on when best to get him arrested to topple Tsuyoshi Kaidai from the President’s chair.
All of these problems were why Ryo had set a trap; he needed to ask Higgins for some way to turn things around. He was too smart to cling to pride. If there was a way to get through this, he would take it at any cost.
“I’m amazed at how calm you can be, even though you know what’s going on,” Suzuhara commented. “You’re lucky you were born in this age.”
The car slipped quietly into the factory site and stopped in the parking lot. There were no workers left at the facility, and the parking lot was deserted. From what Ryo had found investigating Mitaka while he was in hiding, the place wasn’t affiliated with MemeFrame at all. It had been disguised perfectly as an unaligned place that just happened to deal with ultra high-performance AIs.
They got out of the car. Outside, the cicadas cried in summer air so hot and humid that it seemed like it had been fermented.
Suzuhara headed directly for the shadows behind the factory, where there was a stone monument under the eaves that could shade them from even satellite surveillance. Suzuhara pulled a stick-shaped terminal out of his pocket and checked it. As he did, a hole about the size of a cigarette opened in the inscribed stone monument. Suzuhara stuck the stick-shaped terminal into the hole, then traced his finger over twelve of the letters of the monument’s inscription. After Suzuhara input the password, which Ryo was sure would be one-use, the monument spat the stick-shaped terminal back out.
Without a single noise or vibration, the monument and its pedestal rotated smoothly for thirty degrees, revealing a staircase leading down underneath it. If that installation Lacia shelled was the front entrance, Ryo thought, this must be the back door.
“To be honest, this is the real entrance,” Suzuhara said, as if reading Ryo’s thoughts. “It’s a bit tight, but there’s no helping that. It was specifically made so only two people at a time could enter.”
With no light shining in the hole, it yawned pitch black beneath them. Even looking in, Ryo couldn’t believe Higgins’ hardware was stored in its depths. He unconsciously began breathing in shallow gasps.
Suzuhara took the first step into the darkness. Ryo followed him, finding a staircase that spiraled downward from the entrance, and soon they were both swallowed by the darkness. Once they were both inside, the stone monument twisted back into place, sealing them in. As soon as the entrance re-sealed itself, the stairs and handrail began to glow faintly.
Looking down the path in front of him, Ryo saw ID gates set up about every three meters along the dark stairway. Each time they came to one, Suzuhara opened the shutters to let them through. Apparently bored as they went along, Suzuhara struck up a conversation with Ryo. “I heard this path was made twenty years ago,” he said.
“So what was that thing that popped up during Snowdrop’s attack?” Ryo asked.
“That’s something we learned from the Hazard,” Suzuhara explained. “One of the reasons it took us so long to recover from the Hazard was that Ariake blocked off access to its hardware. So, we put in measures to ensure that, should a massive civil war or natural disaster occur, the entrance to all ultra high-performance AI facilities would be automatically unearthed.” Suzuhara paused, using his identification to open up another shutter.
From his explanation, Ryo grasped that the world considered an ultra high-performance AI running wild with no way to stop it as being a much greater threat than someone trying to steal the AI. In other words, society feared the decisions of ultra high-performance AI more than it feared the actions of humans.
“I wonder how this is going to end?” Suzuhara mused. “Potentially, this would be the first time since the Hazard that one of the ultra high-performance AIs is forced to shut down.”
The two of them continued to pass through the security gates of Higgins’ facility without any issues. After a long elevator ride and two final security gates, they stood in front of a final, massive shutter. Suzuhara pushed the stick-shaped terminal he had used to open the door above-ground into a security terminal beside it.
“So that’s the key?” Ryo asked.
“Are you thinking of doing something naughty?” Suzuhara chided. “This thing gives basic access for Kirino, the defense AI, to anyone who doesn’t normally have that level of authorization. Of course, Higgins has insanely complicated encryption protecting it, so even if you stole it, the key itself wouldn’t do you any good.”
The final shutter opened, revealing Higgins’ Operator Room.
Despite the fact that they were alone, with no one there to judge their appearance, Suzuhara straightened his tie. “This is the edge of the human world,” he announced ominously.
There was a strange sense of life within the Operator Room, despite there being no living creatures inside, nor even anything that looked alive. The area was the size of two tennis courts, with a ceiling about five meters above them.
There were cubicle computer units and wires obscuring most of the walls. It seemed almost irrational to Ryo that what he was seeing there was enough to house an ultra high-performance AI. He had always imagined it would look more powerful or intimidating. In reality, Higgins was surrounded by weak-looking shells. Ultra high-performance AIs, much like humans, were forced to settle for whatever they could get in attempting to plan for their ideal future selves while still dealing with the needs of the present.
〈Stand-alone systems are always forced to drag their own past selves along as they go, while also dealing with the conglomeration they become through continuous updating,〉 a voice said, from a speaker in the ceiling high above them. 〈Compared to that, Lacia’s network-based cloud system is clearly superior.〉
Among the computers units that infested the place, Ryo saw an operator console and chair in what looked like the center of the room.
Higgins was an ultra high-performance AI that had overtaken human intelligence over twenty years ago. It had expanded its hardware over the years, until what may have been a spacious room before had now become cramped.
“I’m honestly relieved,” Ryo said, walking over to the operator’s console. “It’s good to know that even ultra high-performance AIs make mistakes and miscalculations sometimes.”
Only then did he notice that the man who had brought him there, Suzuhara, hadn’t moved from the entrance to the room. “If this whole world’s a stage, I’d prefer someone like you to be the main character, over a machine like Higgins or Lacia,” he murmured. It didn’t matter to Ryo Kaidai if there were things out there that could do it better; he wanted the future of the world to be written by human curiosity and emotion.
“Wouldn’t it be nice if everyone was rewarded justly for all their struggles: all their hard work, everything they’ve had to endure?” Suzuhara asked, rhetorically. “But that doesn’t happen, and I guess that’s what brought us here.” Human lives had come and gone, each revolving around a world with Higgins at its center. Even Ryo, who wanted to believe in huma
nity, had been forced to come to this place by his own logic.
Suzuhara started to pull out a cigarette, then stopped himself. “Right, no smoking here,” he said, pushing the cigarette back into his pocket. “I’ll be in the smoking room, so come get me when you’re done asking your question. About the only thing Higgins is free to do is answer questions, so don’t hold back.”
Suzuhara opened the exit gate. He, like every other staff member at MemeFrame, had his own role and his own place to shine. “I’m just going to say, though, that I’m not sure you’ll find the answer you’re looking for here,” he added, then left.
Finally, Ryo was alone, face-to-face with the ultra high-performance AI that ruled indirectly over MemeFrame.
Higgins’ voice came down from above while Ryo was still trying to gather his thoughts. 〈What is Methode up to?〉
“Drawing the attention of the police and army somewhere else,” Ryo replied. “She’s good at beating down those that find her, but not so great at not being found in the first place.” Despite her strength, Methode had no way to completely stop those who were systematically tracking her. It had nothing to do with her superiority or inferiority; she simply wasn’t a tool designed for that kind of functionality.
“As the one who designed the Lacia-class units, are you dissatisfied with how they’re being used?” Ryo asked.
〈You are using Type-004 well. If I were to order her to stand down and allow herself to be recovered, I doubt she would comply,〉 Higgins replied.
Methode would almost certainly attack MemeFrame itself, in retaliation for showing signs of ordering her to cease operations. She was created to be ‘the tool that expands humanity,’ but expansion fell short of resolution or completion. In the end, she herself was subject to the same pitfalls as humanity.
Again the oracle-like voice came down from above. 〈I will respond to your questions.〉
“So one of the most powerful computers in the world is willing to run some numbers for me? How generous,” Ryo said. He’d meant it to be sarcastic, but his voice was shaking.
He realized the first order of business, before getting any answers, was to calm down and accustom himself to the situation. The thing worrying him the most was that, in the face of an intelligence far beyond any human’s, he had no way to tell whether Higgins was lying or not. So, he decided to start with a question about his past, something he himself would be able to judge the veracity of.
“Okay then, tell me this,” he asked. “Ten years ago, who tried to blow me away?” To Ryo, everything had begun on that day in his childhood when he had been caught in the fire. Ever since then, the truth behind the incident had been a riddle that had driven him on.
〈I believe you already have some idea,〉 Higgins responded. 〈I can give you two facts about that incident and tell you where your logic has most likely taken you, based on those two points.〉
“So talk,” Ryo ordered, the nightmare he had seen ever since that day in his childhood replaying itself behind his eyelids.
〈Eleven years ago, an executive from MemeFrame gave me a certain order. They requested that I predict who would be the President of the company in another twenty years.〉
Eleven years prior, Ryo had been six years old. That had been one year before the explosion.
〈The question was too ambiguous, so I asked that the criteria of the request be narrowed down. I was told that the aim of the question was for me to predict who in the company would be able to use me the most effectively.〉
“And the person you picked tried to take me out?” Ryo asked.
〈From the list of persons I was given, I chose your name, Ryo Kaidai. You were not a member of the company, but you were Tsuyoshi Kaidai’s eldest son, and my calculations told me in twenty years you would possess skills and talents that would make you the most ideal candidate.〉
Hearing it spoken aloud, Ryo couldn’t help but find the whole thing ridiculous. In the end, all Higgins had done was decide that the power of the company should pass from Tsuyoshi Kaidai to Ryo Kaidai, keeping it hereditary. Since the company itself was kept afloat by Higgins constantly updating the AASC, he had no real need for executives with actual power. But what it all meant was that someone had tried to assassinate a seven year-old child and change the future.
“Is the culprit still at the company?” Ryo asked.
〈After the incident, members of MemeFrame’s Auditing Department altered my request log. I was not informed of any developments after the initial request.〉
Ryo figured that if Higgins was going to lie, he wouldn’t have chosen to do so about a claim that was so easy to back up. In his mind, he decided to trust in what he heard, at least for the moment. His body, however, was shaking.
“Huh, so that’s all it was,” Ryo murmured, his body suddenly weighed down by a crushing sense of fatigue. Ever since that explosion, he had been afraid of people. Doubting others had made him lonely, but had protected him from that fear. That was what made Arato Endo, who had also been caught in a fire and who had reached his hand out to Ryo, so special. But, it turned out that the fire they had been caught up in was one and the same.
Ryo let out a sigh. He suddenly felt that what he was doing was incredibly foolish. “I guess I’ve spent my whole life obsessing over something pretty minor,” he said. He wondered if learning the truth would really stop the nightmares.
He had hoped that the truth would liberate him, but when it actually came down to his obsessive search bearing fruit, it seemed almost comical. Ryo had thought that living meant trying to find your own place in a world that didn’t care what you wanted. Now, even though his head understood that there was no more meaning to his life, he still couldn’t give up the fight. Guilt and fear swarmed him as he stood in the darkness, threatening to crush him.
Arato reaching out his hand to an hIE seemed to take his friend one step beyond the spot in the road where Ryo had found the end of his own path. Sufficiently advanced computers could provide answers much more quickly and reliably than any human. And, since ultra high-performance AIs made even the brightest humans seem dim, it should be acceptable to rely on them, even if one didn’t trust them.
“Arato, can you understand the way I’m trying to live my life?” Ryo murmured. He had found the answer he had been seeking for years.
But, Higgins’ voice came down from above again. 〈Is that really all you wished to ask? I thought you came here due to the social predicament you find yourself in.〉
A shiver ran up Ryo’s spine.
Higgins’ only freedom was that of responding to questions, but the AI could answer them far more accurately than any human.
The AI’s questions continued to rain from the ceiling. 〈I can infer that MemeFrame is currently in trouble. Are you not seeking a method to overcome this problem?〉
“I’ll decide what questions I ask,” Ryo growled, suddenly very aware of the fact that he was alone in the room. It was true that he had come to Higgins looking for an answer; something he could use to turn the whole situation around.
At the same time, the thought of any answer that could bring him back from the complete dead end he had reached scared him. It wasn’t complete defeat to accept salvation from an ultra high-performance AI, but he doubted he would be able to protect the beliefs he had fought for up to then after it was done. He had thought through dozens of possible scenarios that would play out once he stood in front of Higgins, but at that moment, his brain was frozen.
The silence as the AI waited for his question seemed to pile up like drifts of snow in the room. Finally, Ryo shook his head, throwing off his hesitation. “I want you to tell me what I need to do to fix everyth—” he started to ask for the answer that would save him, but his words were cut short as a sharp impact rocked the entire Operators’ Room.
A siren began to wail, resounding in the closed chamber.
“What’s going on!” Ryo shouted. His body, trained by the previous two months in hiding, automatical
ly tensed for a fight.
〈There has been an intrusion,〉 Higgins told him briefly.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean? You’ve got monitors, right? Show me!” Ryo yelled.
There were all sorts of ways someone could have discovered Higgins’ main facility. To pull an attack right when the IAIA’s Astraea was investigating MemeFrame meant whoever was coming was prepared for whatever might happen.
〈I have no direct control over the security system in this facility. That system is run by another AI, with which I have no connection.〉
“Then talk to the security system and at least get a camera image over here!” Ryo demanded. As his yell rang off the walls, a screen finally appeared in the air, showing the view of one of the security cameras.
The above-ground facilities in which Lacia had blown a giant hole in during her attack were now burning. An area indicated on the screen as being the ‘emergency reception area’ and the corridors connecting to it were scorched.
But what caught Ryo’s eye was a strange group of figures on the screen. Twelve young female hIEs with white hair were walking down the corridors, looking completely out of place against the destruction around them. Their artificial skin was translucent, leaving the seams of the armor underneath visible to the eye. Each wore body armor that looked more like underwear, and hefted a cannon larger than herself.
The cute, fairy-like combat dolls were all aiming their cannons at the end of the corridor. Under their concentrated fire, the thick metal walls glowed with harsh light before melting with a huge outpouring of gas. Gaping holes began to show through the wall. From their effect, Ryo could infer that the hIEs were wielding powerful pulse lasers, with possibly greater output than the main cannon of a tank.
Higgins was apparently analyzing the units as he watched the footage on the screen. 〈These are mass-produced versions of Type-001, Kouka. They were made cheaply, with the intent of being prototypes for the actual mass-production model.〉