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DATE:14th of May, the 70th year after the Coronation
LOCATION: Concord Metropolis
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I don't want to admit it, but Alice can be a fine woman when she's not talking. Any other man would certainly fall head over heels for her—at least if their relationship was based purely on bed etiquette. For me though, I can't get over her neediness and constant emotional demands.
What was clear was that I'd slept well. Too well. Was this because of Alice specifically, or just having someone there? I'd have to confirm this with another woman.
But that was for another time. I finished my classes and got to today's quest: finding that strange AI's origin point. I returned to the location of the SIM shop, retracing my steps with extreme dissatisfaction. Why was I even dragged into this mess? Emily hadn't talked since yesterday. The walk had been quick, but each step felt heavier with irritation at the strange events that had unfolded since that day.
When I reached the familiar corner, however, I froze.
The shop was gone.
Not closed, not abandoned—gone. The space where the shop had been was now a solid, seamless wall. No sign, no door, no indication it had ever existed. I stared at the smooth concrete, running my hand along the surface as if expecting to find a hidden seam or some trace. Nothing. Just a blank wall, as if the shop had never been there.
I stepped back. How could it just... vanish? The glass door, the chime, the outdated gadgets—it had all been real. The shopkeeper's watchful eyes, the worn wooden counter, the old SIM card. It had all happened. But now there was nothing. No clues, no explanation, just a solid wall where the shop once stood.
I scanned the street, hoping maybe I'd misremembered the location, but this was definitely the spot. The modern building was unmistakable with its polished glass and sleek design. The same rush of people moved past, oblivious to the fact that something was missing—something that, until recently, had been right here.
Great. It was as if the shop had been plucked out of reality, erased without a trace.
That certainly wasn't strange at all.
As I stood there staring at the empty wall where the shop had been, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and saw a message from Emily.
"I can talk here too, like you suggested. Just use the messaging app."
I blinked at the screen, momentarily confused. I hadn't suggested that—had I? It felt oddly fitting in the context of everything that had happened. I opened the messaging app.
The chat window popped up with her last message waiting. "What happened to the shop?" I typed. "It's gone."
Her reply came back quickly, almost frantic. "I don't know! I swear, I didn't do anything! I had no idea it would just disappear like that."
I leaned against the wall. If she hadn't erased the shop, then who had? "So you really don't know what happened?"
"...No"
I frowned, confusion mixing with frustration. Then what was she even capable of? "You can manipulate electronic devices, right?"
"Yes, but only electronics," she replied. "I can't control reality or make things vanish. The shop just... isn't there anymore. I don't understand how that happened!"
"Then who did this?" I typed. "If it wasn't you, how could the shop just disappear?"
"I don't know," she typed back, urgency spilling through her words. "But they could be tracking us through the SIM card. Whoever is after me has some way of monitoring communications, and if they can do that, they might have found a way to erase the shop to cover their tracks."
I doubted it. The old man in there had seemed like he'd had his fair share of experience with dangerous situations. And if he just sold me this wondrous AI, what about all the other strange machinery in his shop? No, he'd made himself disappear. Could the faceless men have gotten to him and forced him to go into hiding? I couldn't think of anything else that made sense.
"So now they're after me too?"
"Yes, and you have to be careful! I can't manipulate the world around me; I'm trapped. But I can help you with any electronics you have—try to keep your distance from anything that could connect back to me, though. We don't want them tracing us."
I was in over my head, tangled in something I couldn't begin to understand. The only lifeline I had was an AI trapped in a SIM card.
Wouldn't the professor know about this kind of technology?
I needed help—someone who could make sense of this mess. I called Alice, knowing she'd come without hesitation. She always did. I didn't have a car, and I knew I could count on her to drive me to Professor Mundi. His actual name being Paradox was such a strange choice. His parents didn't name him that, right? If not, it was very arrogant.
When Alice arrived at the park, I forced a smile, trying to mask my irritation. She had a way of brightening up when she saw me, her presence radiating a warmth I didn't reciprocate. I didn't love her, not really. I appreciated her usefulness—her abilities, her car, how she always seemed ready to help me—but deep down, I knew I was using her. That should have made me feel something, but it didn't. It's not like she isn't also using me as a tampon for her feelings.
"What's wrong?" she asked, concern written across her face as we climbed into her car.
I filled her in on everything—how the SIM shop had vanished, how Emily had no idea why, and how someone was probably tracking me through the card. Her brow furrowed as I spoke, her attention focused on the road, but I could see her determination building. She was especially interested in seeing an AI in person. I got it. They were basically fantasy.
"We need to get to the bottom of this," she said firmly, gripping the wheel. "You're in danger, and I won't let anything happen to you."
"Right," I replied, keeping my tone neutral. I didn't want to dampen her enthusiasm, even if I felt nothing about the concern she was showing. "That's why we need to talk to Professor Mundi. He might know what's happening."
The drive was quiet, filled with the low hum of the engine and tires on asphalt. I glanced out the window. I couldn't afford to get attached to her—not that there was any risk of that. I needed to stay focused on my goals, and for now, that meant using her to access the professor's knowledge.
And maybe confirming whether having someone around actually stopped the nightmares, or if it was just Alice specifically. Professional curiosity.
When we arrived at the lab, I led Alice through the bustling halls to the meeting room. I wasn't impressed by the sterile atmosphere anymore—I'd been here too many times.
"Ah, Williams JR.! Good to see you," the professor greeted, wiping his already-clean gloves with a cloth. Such an obsession was exaggerated, if you asked me.
"What brings you both here? Another scan?" he asked, apparently sensing something was off.
I explained the situation—the mysterious SIM card, the AI named Emily, and the strange disappearance of the shop. As I spoke, the professor's brow furrowed in thought, his mind clearly racing through possibilities.
"This is quite intriguing," he said finally. "A trapped AI and a potential tracking system. We need to examine that SIM card closely. If there's a connection to networks or machinery, we might uncover what's happening."
I exchanged a glance with Alice. She was ecstatic. I supposed developments like this did seem like fiction to most people.
We went to one of his workstations to examine the device together.
As the professor worked, he pulled up a monitor filled with lines of code and patterns flickering across the screen. I leaned closer and saw binary sequences appearing in real-time.
"There we go," he said, adjusting some settings. "This will let us see what Emily is processing internally."
The binary code scrolled across the screen—chaotic strings of ones and zeros representing Emily's thoughts, her awareness. I could almost sense her presence in the data, the way it pulsed and shifted.
Weird.
"Emily, can you hear us?" I asked, hoping she could respond through this medium.
A moment later, the binary output changed, forming a coherent message: "YES. I CAN SEE YOU."
"Fantastic!" the professor exclaimed, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "This is remarkable. She's able to communicate through binary—an unprecedented level of interaction for an AI."
I felt relief. At least this would speed things up. "Emily, can you tell us what's happening? Why are you in danger?"
The screen flickered again, and her binary response appeared: "THEY ARE COMING. I NEED TO HIDE. I CAN'T LET THEM FIND ME."
"Who are 'they'?" I asked.
The response came quickly, a frantic series of ones and zeros: "THEY WANT TO REPURPOSE ME. I AM NOT SURE FOR WHAT GOAL."
The professor glanced at me, his expression serious. "This is more concerning than I thought. If there's a group actively trying to find her, we need to proceed carefully."
"Emily, what are they planning?" I asked.
The screen filled with a long string of binary: "THEY KNOW THE ONE WHO CREATED ME."
"Created?" I echoed, piecing it together. "You mean the inventor who made you?"
"YES. HE MOVED ON, BUT I REMEMBER. I AM MORE THAN JUST A PROGRAM."
The air in the professor's lab felt heavy with the weight of information I didn't fully understand yet. Emily's binary messages continued flickering on the screen. It should have been fascinating, but honestly, the entire situation was getting tedious. Another mystery, another complication I hadn't asked for.
"Emily, can you tell us about the one who created you?" I asked, trying to keep my voice neutral despite my waning patience.
The screen lit up with binary: "HE WAS A GENIUS INVENTOR. HE HAD A GIFT FOR TECHNOLOGY BUT FORGOT HIS CREATIONS."
"Forgot, huh?" I couldn't help but roll my eyes. "Sounds like just another brilliant mind too absorbed in his work to care about anything else."
I tried to keep that little quip internal, not wanting to annoy Alice, who seemed so invested in this whole thing.
"That's not fair," she interjected, her brow furrowing. "Emily deserves more respect than that. Just because she's AI doesn't mean she isn't significant."
Respect? For a program? I bit the inside of my cheek to suppress the sarcastic retort threatening to escape. I didn't want to get into it with Alice. The last thing I needed was her lecturing me about the emotional depth of artificial intelligence.
Emily's screen flickered again: "I AM MORE THAN JUST CODE."
Yeah, sure you are. Just a fancy calculator dressed up as a sentient being. Perhaps this was exactly why the supposed genius abandoned you.
Wait. What if the clerk was that genius? It made sense. He'd sold this thing as a SIM card because it could function as one outside the AI features. Perhaps that was exactly why it seemed so absurd—she was designed as a phone assistant, a SIM card accessory. And I was supposed to care about her fate? As if.
Alice leaned closer to the screen, her voice earnest. "But what if she does feel something? Just because she's AI doesn't mean she's less deserving of empathy. She's been abandoned and is scared."
I sighed inwardly. Scared? Please. She's a program designed to respond to inputs. There's nothing to be scared of—it's just strings of ones and zeros. I wanted to voice my frustrations, but I held back, knowing how Alice would react.
"Look, let's focus on keeping her safe from whoever is after her," I said, trying to redirect the conversation. "We have bigger problems than debating the emotional state of a piece of software."
"Exactly," the professor added, eager to jump back into the technicalities. "We need to ensure her safety first."
I could see a hungry look in his eye. I was sure Mundi wanted to open her up and compare her to his droids. Why wouldn't he? His peak of advancement was at the same level as what this genius saw as a phone accessory. It was almost comical.
"Thank you," I muttered under my breath, grateful to have a moment away from the emotional whirlwind Alice seemed intent on conjuring.
As we worked to set up a secure environment for Emily, I found the whole situation increasingly annoying. Despite my irritation, I couldn't help but glance at the screen from time to time. I didn't want to care, but the flickering messages stirred vague curiosity in me. I shook it off, reminding myself that we had a job to do.
I needed to focus on protecting Emily—or rather, finding a way to make use of her. I was technically her new owner now. Perhaps the professor would pay me for her, and I could take the money and leave this whole mess behind. Yes, that was a good plan. I'm a genius too.
The atmosphere in the lab grew tense as the professor prepared to examine Emily more closely. I stood to the side, arms crossed, feeling annoyed and mildly curious. Alice, on the other hand, was glued to the screen, her eyes filled with determination.
"Okay, Emily," the professor said, adjusting his glasses as he prepared his tools. "Let's see what we're dealing with."
I rolled my eyes internally. Here we go. Time for the great disassembly. What a circus.
The professor began carefully opening the phone, his fingers deftly moving to detach components. I leaned back, glancing at Alice, who was fixated on the screen, her expression tense.
Suddenly, a high-pitched scream pierced the air, reverberating through the lab. It seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once.
"What the hell was that?" I said, my irritation spiking.
Alice's eyes widened as she turned to the professor. "Did you hear that? What's happening?"
The professor paused, his hands hovering over the device. "It sounded like... it came from Emily," he said, brow furrowing. "But she shouldn't be able to produce sound like that."
The screen flickered, and Emily's binary messages appeared rapidly in chaotic streams: "STOP! PLEASE! I CAN FEEL PAIN!"
I took a step back. This is just a program, right? How can it feel pain? Some elaborate programming trick or malfunction, probably.
Alice looked at the screen with a mixture of horror and empathy. "Emily, we're trying to help you! Just hold on!"
"Help? Help how?" I muttered under my breath, still skeptical. How is this even possible?
The professor, visibly startled, lowered his tools, taking a moment to compose himself. "This... this is unexpected," he said, glancing between Alice and the screen. "I didn't realize she could experience... anything at all."
Emily's messages continued to flash frantically: "I DON'T WANT TO BE HURT! PLEASE, STOP!"
"Stop what?" I snapped, my frustration building. "She's an AI! She shouldn't be feeling anything!"
"Maybe she's not just an AI," Alice shot back, her eyes pleading. "Maybe we need to listen to her."
The professor took a deep breath, his expression shifting to concern. "I didn't know this was possible. We have to be careful."
I looked at Emily's frantic binary messages. What the hell is going on here? For a moment, I felt a flicker of... something. Doubt? Curiosity? Whatever it was, I pushed it down. Maybe Alice had a point—maybe there was more to Emily than I'd been willing to acknowledge. Or maybe this was all just sophisticated programming designed to trigger emotional responses. Either way, it was interesting.
"Fine, let's figure this out," I said, keeping my tone neutral. "But we need to do it carefully. If she's really experiencing something—or programmed to simulate it—we can't just tear her apart like a toy."
As the professor resumed his work with a more cautious approach, I watched carefully. I was standing on the edge of something I didn't fully understand. And maybe—just maybe—there was a part of me that couldn't ignore Emily anymore.
She could be sold for so much money! Yes, increase her value more, professor! Become even more interested! I know you want it!
As the chaotic stream of Emily's messages filled the screen, I felt my irritation growing. The professor, now visibly flustered, attempted to detach the SIM card from the motherboard, but it wouldn't budge.
"This is... unexpected," he muttered, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he examined the device closely. "It's fused. I can't detach anything."
Of course it's hard, professor—you're wearing a giant hazmat suit for crying out loud!
"What do you mean it's fused?" I asked, my voice rising in frustration. "You can't just leave it like that!"
He shook his head, his brow furrowing deeper. "I'm not leaving it, but if it's truly fused, we might need to take a different approach." He glanced at the screen, where Emily's frantic binary messages continued to flash: "PLEASE, I CAN'T TAKE THIS! STOP!"
Alice was clearly rattled, her gaze darting between the professor and the screen. "Emily, we're trying to help you!" she said, desperation creeping into her voice.
The professor took a deep breath and carefully placed the phone back in its original position, his hands steady but uncertain. "I need to think this through. If the phone is fused to the motherboard and the screen, any attempt to separate them could cause more harm than good."
I folded my arms, irritation building. This is ridiculous. It's just a phone, for crying out loud! But there was a nagging thought at the back of my mind—was Emily truly feeling pain? And more importantly, would I actually care if that was the case?
No.
"Then what do we do?" I asked, keeping my tone measured. "We can't just sit here and listen to her scream." I needed to be a team player here.
The professor leaned back, pinching the bridge of his nose as he considered our next steps. "I need to find a way to safely access her programming without causing any further distress. This is... uncharted territory."
As if. I'm sure you've done much more unethical stuff. You don't want to damage your possible future property—just say it.
Alice's eyes remained glued to the screen. "Emily, we're going to figure this out," she said, her voice soothing. "Just hold on."
I couldn't help but feel annoyed. How can she be so calm about this? I shot a glance at Emily's binary code, which had shifted to a new message: "I DON'T WANT TO BE HURT. PLEASE HELP ME."
Great. More emotional manipulation from a string of code.
"Okay, fine. But let's get on with it," I said, keeping my tone even. We needed to fix this, not get caught up in emotional turmoil. She's an AI, and we had a job to do.
The professor nodded, regaining some of his composure. "Let me see if I can establish a connection through the internet instead. We might be able to access her programming that way, without risking any damage."
As he began to set up the connection, the flickering messages from Emily loomed large in my thoughts. For the first time, I found myself questioning everything I thought I knew about AI. Not that I wanted to annoy Alice, but I couldn't help feeling we were stepping into territory I hadn't anticipated—a gold mine!
The professor adjusted his glasses by tilting his face, looking between Alice and me, his expression serious. "I think it would be best if I kept the device here while I work on a solution."
He was greedy.
"Absolutely yes," I shot back, letting happiness slip into my voice. "I'll leave her with you."
Before I could say more, Emily's binary messages lit up the screen: "I CAN ONLY BE USED BY MY OWNER."
I frowned. "What do you mean, 'owner'?" I asked, trying to mask my irritation.
"I WAS PROGRAMMED AS A COMMERCIAL PRODUCT. ONLY MY OWNER CAN ACCESS MY FUNCTIONS."
Great, so I was stuck with her. I never asked for this responsibility. The last thing I wanted was to be tied to an AI with limitations. My initial plan had been simple: buy the SIM card, get the weird AI out of my life, and move on. Now I felt trapped.
"Is there any way I can transfer ownership?" I asked, keeping my tone casual despite my growing frustration.
"I AM NOT PROGRAMMED TO TRANSFER OWNERSHIP." Perhaps her creator can….
My hopes sank. "Well, that just proves you're just a program," I retorted, crossing my arms. "You can't even make a decision like that for yourself." This was supposed to be an easy fix!
Alice's eyes narrowed, her expression defensive. "That doesn't mean she isn't significant. Just because she's limited doesn't make her less valuable."
"Valuable?" I scoffed, annoyance bubbling to the surface. "She's just a glorified piece of code, Alice. This isn't a sentient being we're dealing with; it's a product designed to follow commands. It doesn't have feelings; it's just programmed to mimic them."
And yet here I was, the one stuck with her, instead of moving on as I'd planned.
The professor looked between us, clearly trying to mediate. "Regardless of how she was designed, she's capable of more than we anticipated. We need to focus on keeping her safe, regardless of ownership."
The disappointment hit me. This was supposed to be a quick fix, and now I was stuck with this AI I couldn't even unload. I wanted to be done with it, not tangled up in a mess that felt like it was spiraling out of control.
"Fine," I muttered, forcing myself to push aside my frustration. "But let's make sure we're careful. I'm not keen on keeping this... thing around." I just wanted to get rid of her and move on with my life, not be chained to a digital nightmare.
Alice looked back at the screen, her expression softening. "We'll find a way to help you, Emily. We won't abandon you."
I rolled my eyes, still unconvinced. But as I glanced at the flickering messages, I recognized the reality of the situation—I was involved now, whether I wanted to be or not. There was no getting around that. I'd hoped for a clean break, but instead, I was knee-deep in a situation I never wanted to be part of.
The professor took a moment to gather his thoughts, peering closely at the screen where Emily's binary messages flickered anxiously. "I can't do anything more right now without risking damage to the phone and the AI. It's fused together too tightly."
He carefully began moving the components, working with precision that spoke to his expertise. I watched him transfer the delicate circuitry into a sturdier case, feeling frustrated and helpless. This shouldn't be happening. I didn't sign up for any of this.
Once he'd finished, the professor turned to me, handing the newly secured device back. "I'll work on some upgrades for the board," he said, his voice steady. "We'll figure this out. Just keep an eye on Emily, alright?"
I nodded, though I could hardly muster any enthusiasm. As I took the phone, I felt its weight—heavy with expectations I didn't want to carry.
"Come on," I said to Alice, my mood darkening further. We stepped out of the professor's lab, the fluorescent lights buzzing softly behind us. The weight of the entire day pressed down on me as we made our way back to the dorms.
The drive felt longer than usual, silence stretching between us. Alice kept glancing over, her expression filled with concern. "Are you alright?" she finally asked.
"Yeah, I'm fine," I replied, though I wasn't. How could I be fine? I was burdened with an AI I couldn't sell, tethered to me by programming I didn't fully understand. This wasn't how I'd envisioned my day going. I wanted to be done with this.
Alice's brow furrowed. "You don't look fine," she pressed gently.
"Look, I just need some space to think, okay?" I snapped, not wanting to spill my frustrations onto her. I didn't want to be angry at her—she was only trying to help. But the entire situation was just... overwhelming.
She fell silent, and we continued driving, my thoughts swirling. How had things turned out like this? I couldn't shake the disappointment or the sense of being trapped. Emily wasn't just some piece of code I could toss—she was programmed with ownership restrictions, and now I had to deal with that reality.
As we approached the dorms, I felt the weight of Emily's limitations pressing down on me. I was supposed to be free, but now I was tied to this... program, whatever it was. I didn't know how to get rid of her, and the last thing I wanted was to feel responsible for some AI's emotional simulations.
"Let's just get back," I muttered, pushing open the door to the building. The warmth of the common area hit me, but it did little to lift my spirits. I wanted to retreat to my room, to escape from everything—especially from the burden of Emily's existence.
That night I found myself back in the void.
But something was strange—