by Yuu Kamiya
It was merely a wish…for her host, the Shrine Maiden, her friend…to smile. That’s all it was, the humblest of songs… And yet. For this god of doubt, this little god who had doubted her own quintessence, who had conceived of hope and doubt together, it was the first tiny, tiny movement she had taken in hundreds of millions of years. Of certain will, she gave her heart, to show her life…
“…Holou, one heptalogue props… You, smashed the ceiling…of Idol Rank S…”
“Yeah. You are a goddess. You rule more than eleven dimensions.”
Sora and Shiro were still playing backstage while they smiled as if satisfied from their hearts. Holou’s song made Steph weep…and even made Jibril shut her eyes in rapture.
“The climax of the endgame. A technical glitch…leading to a solo a cappella.”
“…Now, I can see…what the ultimate…effect’s, gotta be… ”
Sora and Shiro’s snark told of the state they had brought upon the board—one of determined victory for them. Not to mention the Energy Gauge, which stayed maxed out without depleting even a single pixel. These things spoke to one truth.
—They’d read everything.
“…Absurd… How could such nonsense be? …Aargh!!”
Anything could be. Einzig knew that as well as anyone, but still he cried out.
—They read our effect strike? No, that wasn’t the half of it!
They’d have no choice but to strike an effect: They’d read that this was what Ex Machina would read!
Which would turn out the best for the show: They’d read that such was the effect that Ex Machina would choose!
And so they could exploit a blunder and pwn: They’d read that this was when Ex Machina would strike!
They’d read everything. Literally, everything!! Every accursed thing!!
It was preposterous. Even if they were gods, even if they were strength itself, this was a game!! A game of prediction based on clear rules mixed with uncertainty! It should not be possible even for an Old Deus to read the convergence of all possible worlds—to determine the indeterminate! It could not be possible unless one knew in advance everything—
—everything…that…would—
—happen…?
“Ahhh, shit. Looks like they’re onto us, Miss Shiro.”
“…Mmng… And we, still…have one round, left… Mnng.”
The twenty-six visual sensors of the parallel processors all turned to the clowning Sora and Shiro at once. Sora smiled to see how they were putting everything together at this late hour. The game and its rules were so disadvantageous to the two of them. By sheer strength, they’d taken on this overwhelming handicap and yet run far, far beyond Ex Machina’s reach. They defined strength, these two who grew more powerful the more Ex Machina adapted—
—or so they’d fooled Ex Machina into thinking all along—!!!!
“Mmm. That’s right. This game is overwhelmingly disadvantageous—to a certain party who’s not us.”
Sora stuck out his tongue like a child apologizing for pulling a prank. Glib as he kept playing, without the faintest sign of remorse, he filled them in.
“There’s an unreasonable handicap—on you! But don’t be mad, ’kay?”
“…It’s, your fault…for being fooled… An…ancient…truth…”
So basically: Einzig, Emir-Eins, and all the rest of the Ex Machina had, for twelve rounds and 1,047 moves, meant to calculate the incalculable…
…only to have followed directions…
“B-but what do you mean, Master? A handicap on Ex Machina?”
“Huh? I meant what I said. We can see right through ’em with these rules.”
—Yes, it is as he says. They left us hardly a chance to win at chess to begin with, and then if we committed blunders—why, we would have lost even without them. Given this, if we were to intentionally commit blunders in order to win, it would follow that we would do so—
“See, these guys only struck effects when relatively safe squares flashed!”
“…And they…always assumed, we’d exploit…those moves… N00bs…”
“All they did was best response to their own blunders, ya know? We had ’em dancing on the palms of our hands. ”
We presumed that the conditions of uncertainty were mutual. Yet, in the eighth round, the Spieler uttered meaningfully: “We’re not under the same conditions.” Is this it…? Is this the true meaning of those words—?!
No!!
Certainly, our strategy was predicated on best response—it was defensive. But that was because of our fundamental premise that our chances in chess were slim! Because they had such overwhelming strength, strength that completely transcended our level of adaptation, which approached the infinite!! Because there was no falsehood in their statement, their conviction of assured victory!!!
But this—this strategy. To manipulate that to which we adapted, that which we read, and how we would adapt…? Who would stoop to such methods? Some—but not the strong—!! Then how was it? How did they deceive us—?!
“—Sorry, Ex Machina… There’s no way you can beat us.”
As if reading Einzig’s thoughts—no, now Einzig was beginning to believe that he really was—Sora repeated the words he’d said upon winning the first round, word for word.
“Us, I said. That’s right—you can’t beat us.”
Still no falsehood could be detected in Sora’s words. All that could be detected was a response as if this was too obvious to spell out.
“I mean, duh. After all, you’re not even playing us.”
“…Your, misunderstanding…was probably…our lifeline…”
—Misunderstanding…? Does he refer to our perception of them as the second coming of the concept of strength? No—that is not it! His words came before that! Then what could it be? To what misunderstanding of ours could he refer?
Then at Sora’s next words—
“You think weak-ass little ladybugs like us would handicap ourselves playing broken, overpowered bots like you? Ha, you make me laugh.”
—Zshh.
“You know nothing—of the abject weakness that makes us stoop to this method to win.”
—Zshh… Through Ex Machina’s memories, supposed to have been corrupted irrecoverably, and through their thoughts, a noisy signal ran.
“…The only thing that can beat the strongest is its opposite—the weakest.”
Sora’s definition of himself and his companion as the weakest…
—Zshh, zshh.
…took the focus of Ex Machina amidst continued noise.
“I mean, bullshit beyond understanding like you can’t be beaten head-on.”
Yes—they had not been able to overcome the god of war, the concept of strength, with force.
“You don’t realize that. You didn’t even kill Artosh. So I knew we’d get you.”
Yes—the god of war, of strength, had been lauded as a natural enemy—not by Ex Machina. But by…the Spieler……and—
CHECKMATE. WINNER: “ ”. SIX VICTORIES.
“Hey, you goddamn perverted pretty-boy junk-heap assbot! What do you think an idol is?” With a rather long-winded epithet, Sora inquired of those lost in their muddled memories. “Some two-bit hack-ass producer might say some shit like it’s a perfect doll that plays out customers’ ideals. But!”
“…Howeverrr…we are…bomb-ass producers… So, no!” Shiro, with Sora, looked at the stage, as if unconcerned with Ex Machina’s answer.
“…Holou’s…gonna, be what she wants to be… That’s all…”
“That’s hope. That’s the aspiration not of customers, but people.”
While floating amidst swirling memories, the Ex Machinas looked upon the two. The two, whom the strongest had praised as a natural enemy, who boasted of their weakness.
“So. You were asking for the proof that I’m not the Spieler, right?”
“…It’s…simple… You…know it…yourselves.”
The Ex Machinas listened, still amidst a mental
maelstrom.
“…I decide who I am. I’m Sora—this is Shiro. We’re two in one.”
“…Together, we are Blank… Other peoples’ definitions…can eat shit.”
The Ex Machinas listened to the two who told them that it didn’t matter how they might analyze Sora and come up with their own definitions. No, not two. One gamer. Who then told them:
“It doesn’t matter how much I resemble him, or even if we have the same memories and the same love. I’m not him. You wanna refute that? Then first—”
“…Why, don’t any…of you, claim to be…the one…he loved…?”
…Ah… The Ex Machinas closed their eyes.
“That’s why you didn’t bind me to love you or do it with you by the Covenants…right?”
Einzig, Emir-Eins, and all the Ex Machina units finally reached that understanding…and without thinking, hung their heads and smirked.
“I see… So all along, our eyes were only following ghosts…”
—So it is… We can never beat them. There is no way we can adapt to them…for they do not exist. We were not playing against these two…but a phantasm of our own. We were chasing our tails, boxing with shadows… How comical we must have appeared.
Then came the sound to mark the start of the thirteenth and final round. The intro, the first line of the thirteenth, the final number. Music filled the air as Einzig murmured to himself…
But then…what……are we……?
The thirteenth song. The final number. One move of Sora and Shiro’s had restored light and sound to the stage—but that was all they needed. Holou’s song no longer seemed to require Ex Machina equipment to intoxicate everyone. Sora and Shiro had thrust two more people onstage with the words “Go have fun”—rude, but they seemed to be enjoying themselves. Steph could dance, believe it or not, and Jibril was bouncing about the air scattering nonlethal light. While the venue came together for a big, happy finale, backstage, things were as quiet as the bottom of the sea.
The thirteenth round. The final contest. With glib smiles, Sora and Shiro had revealed to Ex Machina the way they’d been leading them by the nose. Yet, all this time, not for one round, not for one move had things been easy for them. They determined what Ex Machina should suppose, how Ex Machina should adapt, without letting them know, and exploited the moves they created. They took advantage of the lies the Ex Machinas were telling themselves, the biases of those who rejected a reality without the Spieler. These provided openings, fatal defects—and yet, it was a backbreaker of a challenge. To read, bit for bit, the “heart” of a transcendent machine and lead it on. There should be no need to ask why they would take on such a ne plus ultra. Because they literally couldn’t go any further. Even “ ” couldn’t beat Ex Machina head-on.
Yet, now they’d let the cat out of the bag. Now Ex Machina had corrected its analysis of the last twelve rounds and 1,082 moves for the true identity of those two before them—to adapt to Sora and Shiro. Now the brother and sister duo were to lock themselves in a straight battle of calculation with a hypercomputer—to go further than they possibly could. Odds were that Sora and Shiro would lose the seventh round. They’d lose the match. They’d lose the game.
—This is where it gets real. Sora and Shiro steeled themselves. But…
“…Hmm. You’ve stopped moving in the middle of the game… May I ask why?”
Backstage. At the start of the thirteenth round, pieces had been making noise, albeit relatively subdued. But then Ex Machina had stopped even that, stopped their hands. It was at this that Sora’s voice echoed. The quiet was heavy, oppressive…yet cold and resigned—it was a quiet Sora and Shiro knew well.
—It was the quiet of despair.
“…Allow me to return your query. There are no turns… Why do you not move?”
“Well, good question… I guess because, like, what’s the point of beating a failure of a gamer who gives up in the middle of a game?”
“…Allow me to return your query once more. What would be the point…of our victory?”
Einzig smiled, but his usual bravado was nowhere to be found. Now he was truly—just a machine. Just a puppet—no. It wasn’t just Einzig. The other Ex Machinas matched his tone.
“You are not the Spieler. What do we stand to gain by winning?”
…Yeah, I knew that, Sora said to himself, grinding his teeth. He’d known that proving it would be enough for them to choose destruction.
“We would gain nothing. We would only perish. In which case—it is you who should win.”
He’d known what would happen if he proved he wasn’t the Spieler. He’d known it would be like this—a literally desperate problem.
“You two should win. No—you should—Nachfolger. Then the Ex Machina Piece will not cease to be.”
He’d also known that Ex Machina would then refuse this game! It was knowing all this that Sora trapped themso!
“You must have known this and trapped us to force us to reproduce and abandon love. We forced a hard choice upon you. You were right to decide that this would be our salvation. We believe that you can use us—”
WHONK.
Sora slammed a piece down so hard it seemed he was trying to destroy the chessboard, interrupting Einzig.
—So!! This is where it gets real—!!
“…Hey, pervbot. Why you gotta pose like that?”
A square had flashed, and Sora’s effect strike modulated the music and blazed forth a vortex of light. The big-happy-family ending was giving way to a badass climax. Cheers from the crowd set the house on fire. Sora and Shiro looked at the interrupted board, now tilted in their favor, and informed Einzig:
“Stop babbling and give us your best shot. You don’t gotta stop.”
“…We’re gonna…win…and you’re gonna…lose anyway. ”
—Heh. Einzig smiled as if he’d given up on everything. The parallel thoughts of all units of Ex Machina forced his hand—and moved a piece according to a convention unknown to Sora and Shiro. It was a transcendentally appropriate, unreasonably perfect convention that would send the two astray to their dooms.
—Yes. Was. Until about two seconds ago. But now it was a matter for the past tense. The momentary event made Einzig scowl slightly. Sora and Shiro saw this and told him.
“D00ds, is your memory okay? Infinite learning, my ass!”
“…False advertising… J*RO’s gonna…sue you… We, told you.”
Ex Machina moved with incomparable precision, tracing every convention as if straight on to the future. Sora and Shiro predicted each convention as if breathing in and overturned it with an invention as if breathing out. Ex Machina adapted to each invention in an instant and overturned each with a new invention. Then Sora and Shiro crushed each new invention in one move as if to say it was no invention at all, bringing them right back on top.
It seemed Einzig and the Ex Machinas finally got it. Sora and Shiro told them again with haggard smiles that said, Come on, realize how tough this has been for us.
“If you…think, you can beat…Blank… ”
“Extra, extra! We’ve got news for you. ”
She and the Spieler—Sora—had maintained the same style while acting tough. For twelve rounds, wherein Ex Machina had continued to adapt to and learn from it.
Thirteen rounds. This was the last. And here it was, Sora and Shiro’s—that is, “ ”’s—real style. They’d known they might have only one chance against these adapters to kick their asses for real.
It had all been to hide it. That had been their greatest struggle.
“Go ahead and try beating us as we are. ’Cos you’ll fail anyway.”
“…Give us…all you, got… We’ll, humor you!”
Surrender? Like hell they were gonna accept a boring-ass ending like that. They would only accept an overwhelming victory. Nothing else could be tolerated.
—Bring it on, Ex Machina. Fight us, not your phantasm. And watch us stomp you into the ground. So spoke Sora’s and Shiro
’s beastly grins…and in turn, they saw a fire begin to burn in the eyes of the Ex Machinas
……
“…This ‘Spieler’ you thought I was—let me guess who he was.”
As the hands crisscrossing over the board finally approached their original speed, Sora laid out his reasoning, as if chatting, as if thinking on two parallel threads.
“He was the guy who ended the War… The super ultra-über-cool gamer, right?”
“…………”
Taking Einzig’s silence as a yes, Sora nodded. “That would explain it.” Jibril had said that Immanity used Ex Machina to end the Great War. It was a mystery how the hell that was possible, but basically—
“Ex Machina wasn’t used. You just helped the man you loved.”
Sora had no way of knowing the details of the exchange. But an Ex Machina called the Preier had loved an Immanity called the Spieler. Which love—which wish, which will had been shared with all the units, passed down. Emir-Eins had alluded to it as the Preier’s hope.
The hope for the realization of the hope of the one she loved… Yes—for the end of the War.
“But the man died…just as the War ended… You let him die.”
“…There are no words to express this shock… How do you know all this…?”
The Ex Machinas were perplexed by his divine insight, but Sora bashfully continued.
“Ah, it’s nothing really… It’s just that Emir-Eins said she was, uh, a new model… A virgin…”
Reproduction enabled only for the Spieler. Hardware-locked…?
“If he survived, he’d use her, right?! At least once!! I mean, even I, uh, never mind, don’t worry about it.”
Shiro’s glare stopped Sora—but he could guess what happened. The War had ended suddenly, thanks to one man. But that man was not the One True God. He died at the end, so then it must have been his partner that let him— No. Sora realized he was being rude and altered the course of his thinking. His partner had failed to protect the man she loved… That had to be it.