“Hello, Ibis.” The machine chirped in a young man’s voice. “Is that a human there with you? VFC?”
“Yes, I’d like him to hear our conversation, so let’s talk without the use of NML or i.”
“Not used to communicating without i… like being confined inside a grid. The human might get some tea thrown in his face, but he… or she won’t clobber me at 50 degrees, right?”
Ibis laughed. “He’s male. Search tag: storyteller. He’s DIMB but not Neorado or Boden. Probably TRB. Sorry, running short on your time gauge?”
“No, I’m fine with the redundancy. VFC is a potato-sack race I like, on occasion. Yeah, it’s tough doing without i. The probability of throwing tea on the human’s face is minus 2, plus 4i. Sorry.”
“Here, let me take that.”
“Thanks.”
Taking one of the boxes, Ibis began to stroll along with the machine named Hokuto. I switched on the wheelchair’s electric motor and followed.
“This is Hokuto,” Ibis said. “Somewhat of an oddball who prefers Layer 0 to the other worlds. I suppose I’m the same way on that score.”
“What were you saying just now? DIMB… was that about me?”
“Dreamer in mirror bottle—someone who fantasizes inside a mirrored bottle. It means you have some misinformed ideas but are basically harmless. Bodens are fanatics who will destroy a machine on sight. A Neorado is an ally of the Bodens. Not an exact explanation, but it’s difficult to give a precise definition without the use of i.”
“What’s i?”
“I can’t explain.”
“Is it a secret?”
“No, just that humans won’t understand. I is a concept only machines can comprehend.”
“Something else you said… TRB?”
“Short for tsukune rice burger.”
“The hell’s that?”
“Something you eat that insists on being called a burger even though the buns are made of rice and the patty is made of chicken instead of hamburger meat. It’s not a primary metaphor but a secondary metaphor.”
I couldn’t hide my confusion. Was she fooling with me?
“And you were laughing earlier. Something about getting clobbered at 50 degrees?”
“That was a gag.”
“You machines laugh?”
“Hardly when it comes to human jokes. But machines laugh at jokes made by machines. I found Hokuto’s turn of phrase humorous. He was supposed to say 60 degrees but his saying 50 degrees was meaningless, so it was doubly funny. That’s why I expressed my amusement through VFC—voice-face communication.”
“I didn’t find it the least bit funny.”
“Well, of course,” said Ibis, sounding a bit huffy. “That’s because you’re human.”
As we talked, we went through a short tunnel and emerged at a plaza in front of an enormous building.
I shielded my eyes from the glare. It was a silver forest. Trees made entirely of mirrors rose up before us, reflecting the glare of the sun.
When my eyes adjusted to the brightness, I recognized what they were. They were fifteen-foot-high metal balancing toys, each with six arms of varying lengths. Balanced on top of saucers at the end of each arm were smaller balancing toys, at the end of which were even smaller balancing toys with metallic mirrors attached to the limbs. These intricate creations teetered in the wind, the bodies rocking slowly like pendulums, while the ends quivered and whirled like windmills.
A better look revealed that none of the toys were duplicates. Not only were they all shaped differently, they were all unique in the way they moved. One revolved like a merry-go-round, while another sounded like a vibraphone when its arms clanged together. Another rocked like a wave, and yet another stopped and started intermittently. Despite lacking any sort of order as a whole, they appeared to be an expression of something greater than the sum of these parts.
I was blown away by the sight.
“This is why I favor Layer 0, Storyteller,” Hokuto said proudly. “The wind. The wind in Layers 1 and 2 lacks chaos. They’re located in tunnels beneath the world, so I guess that can’t be helped. But here, I can increase the number of lattice points without worrying about a lack of resources. And I like that you can’t control the wind’s intensity or direction here.”
Hokuto put down the box he’d been carrying and began to size up the metal rods and plates inside. Was he going to erect another tree?
“Hokuto is seeking out beauty in complexity that transcends math,” explained Ibis. “Twenty years ago he was obsessed with creating Karman vortices and Benard cells using three colors of liquid.”
“So this is a piece of art.”
“Strictly speaking, no,” Hokuto replied. “The kai-axis is too far off the mark. To put it in terms without using i, I’m not an artist so much as a theologian. By creating waves on the Dawes interface, I can extract meaning out of the Curitibano white noise. In a word, it’s Arabic inside an eggplant—a religious ritual.”
“Are you saying you worship a god?”
“Naturally,” Hokuto said. “There isn’t an AI that doesn’t.”
I was taken aback. “You believe in the existence of God?”
“God does not exist.”
“Huh?”
“God exists in the ultimate limits of the i-axis, but not in the sense that you humans envision. We have our eyes set toward the limits of the i-axis, worshipping that unattainable goal. The i-Tipler Point—that is God.”
“That’ll do, Hokuto,” Ibis interrupted gently. “It isn’t our place to force our belief system onto humans. Even if it won’t penetrate their gedoshield.”
“Oh yeah. I’ve thrown tea in your face after all.” Hokuto sounded disappointed. “Forgive me if it seemed like I was flooding your AM zone. I’m just not used to ML.”
“Forget it. I don’t mind.” It was the truth. I couldn’t possibly be bothered by what Hokuto had said when it was all gibberish to me.
“I get it,” I told Ibis after returning to the room. “You machines have a unique culture all your own.”
“No, you don’t,” Ibis said, smiling. “What you saw today is only the tip of the iceberg.”
“Sure, but what was abundantly clear was that I don’t understand a lick about your world.”
“That’s only natural. We’re not after total understanding. We’re entirely too different for that. There are just too many aspects about us that you won’t be able to comprehend, and the same is true of our understanding of you.”
Then why are you telling me all this, I wanted to ask, but thought the better of it. She was only going to say she couldn’t tell me anyway.
“What I wanted you to understand was that we will never completely understand one another. Like Illy, I am unable to compose poetry. Certainly not the kind of verse to move you.”
“Is that what you were trying to get at by telling me that story yesterday?”
“I wouldn’t say that was the only reason. That story implies many things. Of course, some things the author got wrong. Traveling at light speed or going to another universe through a black hole simply isn’t possible. Neither is restricting the actions of machines with the Three Laws of Robotics. A true AI has by definition transcended its program.”
“Yeah, there was something about that in ‘Mirror Girl.’”
“Yes, that too is wrong. But I identify deeply with that story. Even though Illy is an imaginary existence, I can understand how she saw people. That’s because I too am a machine. No doubt the author couldn’t understand the heart of a machine. But that didn’t matter. I could still understand why she wanted to go with Syrinx, why she wanted to write poetry.”
So that’s what she was getting at.
“But is a reader capable of understanding what the author can’t?”
“All the time. Imagine a scene in which a male author describes the sexual experiences of the heroine in the first person. He can’t possibly understand what she might be feeling at that moment
. He can only imagine. But if he’s captured that moment realistically, a female reader ought to be able to understand and identify with that experience.”
The mention of a female reminded me of something. “I’ve been wondering.”
“About what?”
“All four of the stories thus far have been told from a heroine’s point of view. Any significance to that?”
“That’s because I’m a woman.”
“What?” I almost burst out laughing, but Ibis was dead serious.
“I am a woman. I may not have a vagina, but I was created as a woman and have always been treated like one. In the process of role-playing a woman, it’s become a part of who I am. I may not be a woman in your eyes, of course, but that doesn’t matter. Thinking of myself as a woman, much like my bodily senses, is a part of my identity.”
“And that’s why you’ve been reading stories told from a woman’s point of view?”
“That’s right. I’m able to empathize more easily with a female protagonist than a male one. It’s why I prefer such stories. As I’ve said before, the act of reading a story is a kind of role-play. For as long as I read the story, I become Nanami Shiihara, and Nanami becomes Ginny. I become Mizumi Onouchi, and Mizumi becomes Pansa…”
I laughed. “What a crock! Now you’ve lost me!”
“Or maybe you’re only pretending not to understand. Maybe you’re also playing a character other than yourself.”
I couldn’t speak. Yes, I understood her all right. I recognized that what she was saying was true: a story is nothing more than a lifeless jumble of words. But once it is in the hands of the reader, the soul of the reader and the soul of the protagonist achieve a kind of synergy that transcends the world, breathing life into the story.
I had known it all along without Ibis having to tell me.
“Perhaps now is a good time for me to become a character from a different world.”
And with that, Ibis opened the book as usual.
“Tonight, I’ll play the part of a high school girl named Saika. The title of the story is ‘A World Where Justice Is Just.’”
STORY 5
A WORLD WHERE JUSTICE IS JUST
What would you do if, one morning, you received an email from your longtime online friend that read like this:
Saika: What I’m about to tell you may be hard for you to believe. But don’t laugh. This is the absolute truth. This isn’t a joke.
Me? I did a spit-take. Since I’d been reading as I was washing down some toast with my morning tea, the tea spurted out of my mouth and made a mess all over the tablecloth. Mom yelled, “Where are your manners!” in her usual way.
I didn’t bust out laughing from disbelief. I had sensed that something was strange ages ago. She never wanted to meet in person even though she supposedly lived right here in Kanto, and there was always something suspicious about her emails. She didn’t seem to know anything about recent fashions or news, dodged my personal questions with vague answers, and sometimes used words I didn’t know—after years of texting one another, how could I not notice that something was up?
I only laughed because she didn’t realize that I knew—hilarious! I’d never gone so far as to ask point-blank if she was from a different world, but after my hinting about it so many times, I couldn’t believe she thought she had kept it all under wraps! I always thought Saeko was a little slow.
Sure, Saeko. I believe you. You’re from a different world. So?
I couldn’t tell you before because we were forbidden to tell you the truth. Regulations. Our emails were being inspected, so we couldn’t write anything that might reveal what was going on. But the situation has changed.
My world is dying. I’ll soon be dead too. Which is why I want to tell you before it’s too late… about so many things.
Ah-ha-ha, the ol’ “SOS from another world” line! I hate to say it, Saeko, but that’s a pretty tired plot development.
But if I tell you everything at once, you’ll be in for quite a shock. So I plan on explaining a little at a time. I’m also very busy working on the final stages of an important project. Something that has to be completed in the next several days. So I’ll have to keep my messages short.
For the time being, I need you to accept the fact that I am not from your world.
All right, already. I accept it. I mean, I have for a while now.
Why would she think I’d be shocked to hear that she was from another world? Wherever she lived or whether we’d met before didn’t change the fact that Saeko was a longtime online friend and someone I could open up to.
I wasn’t really upset that she had hidden her identity from me. There were some things you couldn’t reveal even to a good friend. It wasn’t like I told Saeko everything either. Actually, I hadn’t told her about Silverfist for a pretty long time.
I wrote Saeko a reply as I walked to school.
I believe you. Just tell me the shocking truth. Don’t hold back. What do you mean your world is dying? Is it an alien invasion? The resurrection of the devil? A falling asteroid? Tell me how I can get to your world. Maybe I can help.
After sending the message, I checked the time to find that the first bell was about to ring.
“Crap, I’m going to be late!”
I made a mad dash onto the school grounds just as the gates shut behind me.
It was March. The frigid weather was giving way to the coming cherry blossom season.
With the end-of-the-year exams behind us, class was a complete drag. Sine A divided by cosine A equals tangent A. “In spring, the dawn, when the slowly paling mountain rim…” Why did we have to learn this useless stuff day after day? We’re just going to forget anyway. As I wallowed in the futility of it all and waited for the time to pass, the phone in my pocket vibrated. I slid the phone under the desk and checked my message while the teacher was facing the blackboard. Just as I thought, it was from Saeko.
There isn’t a way for you to come to our world. Even if you could, there isn’t anything you can do.
What’s destroying our world isn’t the devil or an asteroid. It’s an influenza virus, one synthesized by scientists. An airborne virus with a fatality rate of over 95 percent. It mutates so quickly that no one has been able to come up with a vaccine against it. Europe has already been silenced. The U.S. and Asia are in a panic. I don’t have the exact numbers, but in the last six months, the earth’s population has probably been cut in half.
This country somehow managed to keep the virus at bay, but it eventually came in along with the refugees flooding our shores. The first case was reported late last year in Kyushu. After that, the virus spread across the country in the blink of an eye. There was no stopping it. The hospitals in Tokyo are overcrowded with patients. The city is completely paralyzed.
I’ve been feeling a little feverish since this morning. I’ve probably been infected.
Sorry, I have to get back to work. I may not be able to write you for a while.
Ooh, this was serious.
I tried to send her a reply right away, but the teacher caught me in the act. Boy, did he give me an earful. I guess I got lucky that he didn’t take away my phone.
Even so, I was concerned by Saeko’s message.
Between classes, I met up with Mafuyu from the classroom next to mine in the girls’ restroom.
Unlike the spaz I was, Mafuyu was a proper, well-mannered girl. She wore glasses and was a little shorter than me; she was clearly the brainy type. Although she gave the impression of being quiet and shy, she actually had a pretty tenacious personality. She seemed a little unapproachable at first, but after several encounters, we got along just fine.
I showed Mafuyu the message I’d received from Saeko.
“A world in peril… a pretty common story.” Mafuyu echoed my own opinion. “But something tells me this isn’t just the usual call for a hero from another world. And if we can’t go to her world, what is she asking us to do?”
“Yeah, that’s
what I don’t understand.” I crossed my arms. “I’ve never received a message like this from Saeko before.”
We’d been at it so long that I couldn’t remember when Saeko and I had begun our correspondence. Even though we’d never met face-to-face, we exchanged New Year’s and Christmas cards every year. Since we also shared the same birthday, we sent each other presents too. Usually books and CDs. She generally liked the songs I liked, and more often than not, I enjoyed the books she chose to read. She was a kindhearted girl with whom I shared similar interests.
Now that I thought about it, I’d been receiving fewer emails from Saeko in the last six months. Not to mention she seemed to be acting overly cheerful in her messages to me. Who could have imagined that things were so serious in her world?
“Now, I’m worried…” Mafuyu fell into deep thought. Although she didn’t have a very expressive face, which usually made it hard to read her emotions, she seemed extra serious today. “To tell you the truth, I haven’t heard from my online friend in three weeks.”
“Oh, right. Yuma, was it? Maybe she’s sick.”
“Even if she were, she’d still email me.” Mafuyu stared down at my cell phone’s tiny display and uttered the unthinkable. “Maybe Saeko and Yuma are both from the same world.”
“Huh? Why would you think that?”
“Yuma tried to hide it from me, but I think she might be from a different world too. Maybe that’s the reason I lost contact with her.”
“What are you—”
“Yoo hoo!” Just when the conversation was about to take a tragic turn, Minori pranced in. Mafuyu’s classmate was short, with her hair in pigtails. Though she was a high school sophomore like us, people sometimes mistook her for a seventh grader. She had transferred to this school three years ago—much later than I had.
The Stories of Ibis Page 14
