Three days later. Port Alexandra, on the plaza steps outside the Supreme Court.
The early-summer breeze carried a faint scent of sea salt as it brushed over this city that had just survived a catastrophe. Although several buildings in the distance were still wrapped in scaffolding for post-war repairs, the streets had already regained their usual clamor. Having lost the assistance of large numbers of robots, citizens could only haul goods and sweep streets with their own hands. Complaints never ceased, but in the air there was also a long-lost, distinctly human warmth and bustle.
Miguel set down a metal bucket filled with the morning's catch with a heavy thud. Stretching irritably, he made his bones crack with a "kak-kak" sound. He sat sprawled on the wide white steps outside the courthouse, staring at the tightly shut oak door carved with floral patterns.
"Tsk. We already went fishing on the west coast and came back, and this trial— it still isn't over?" Miguel scratched his hair, slightly tousled by the sea breeze, his tone full of impatience. "It's just a verdict, right? Why does a formality take this long?"
Sitting beside him, Old Man Fernando looked far more at ease. This always-cheerful old gentleman was unhurriedly tidying his fishing line. He took a pipe from his pocket, lit it, and contentedly exhaled a puff of bluish smoke.
"After all, the defendant is a computer stitched together out of human brains— aiya, to be honest, just her existence alone is enough to make these old bones of mine chew on it for a while." Fernando shook his head, smiling. "This is a case that overturns ethics and science. The judge and jury are probably about to burn their brain cells dry."
Miguel curled his lip and picked up a small stone from beside him, tossing it up and down in his hand. "…That, huh. See enough weird things, and slowly it stops mattering. There are plenty of strange things in this world. If I had to say it, Grandpa, you're already someone with a pretty strong capacity to accept things. If it were some other old guy, hearing something like this, he'd probably be so scared he'd run to church to pray."
He threw the stone hard toward the distant fountain, his tone turning indignant. "What really pisses me off is that damned Mary! Saying it 'involves the city's top secrets, non-citizens of this city may not attend the hearing,' and she just kicked us out! Hmph. That's obviously burning the bridge after crossing the river! If that's what she says, then why does Faith get to stay inside the courtroom?"
Fernando looked at Miguel acting like a kid throwing a tantrum and sulking, and couldn't help laughing. "Hahahaha. Isn't Faith going to testify as a witness? Witnesses aren't divided into citizens and non-citizens, are they? Besides, he's the refined type who speaks nicely— the judge definitely prefers listening to him testify. If they put you on the witness stand, you'd probably get annoyed at the lawyer's nagging and draw your sword to tear the courtroom down."
"Hey, I'm just venting to you, Grandpa." Miguel scratched his cheek awkwardly. Having been hit where it hurt, he could only mutter softly, "I'm not some unreasonable violent maniac…"
Just then.
"Dong— dong— dong—"
The heavy bronze bell on the top floor of the courthouse was struck three times, its echoes rippling across the square. Immediately after, the oak door carved with floral patterns—shut tight for the entire morning—let out a dull grinding sound and slowly opened to either side.
"Ah." Fernando took the pipe from his mouth. "Looks like it's over."
Miguel sprang to his feet at once, patted the dust off his pants, and craned his neck to peer inside.
A few minutes later, several figures emerged from the dim corridor and stepped into the bright sunlight.
In front was Arran. This young mechanic, who usually hunched his shoulders and looked unkempt, had—astonishingly—put on a dark suit that fit reasonably well today. Only, his tie was crooked, his forehead was slick with sweat, and he looked like he'd just been roasted over a fire.
Following behind Arran was Alice, dressed in a pure white Lolita outfit. She was still that exquisitely crafted doll-like figure that made one hold one's breath, but at this moment she was not floating in midair. Instead, she used her own legs, stepping carefully—somewhat awkwardly—on the stairs.
Faith walked last at an unhurried pace, holding a notebook filled with notes, wearing his signature relaxed smile that looked as if he'd seen through everything.
Seeing the two of them waiting below, Arran clearly let out a breath of relief. He hurried down three steps at a time, nearly tripping over his own feet.
"…S-sorry to keep you waiting!" Arran panted, stammering. "W-when they declared 'guilty,' it really gave us a fright! I felt like my heart was about to stop, but… fortunately the result isn't bad, right, Alice?"
He turned his head back, looking at the mechanical girl behind him with a gaze that could almost be called "doting."
"Yes…" Alice lifted her skirt hem and bowed to Miguel and Fernando with great politeness and seriousness, speaking softly. "…No, I mean… I'm very sorry for making everyone worry about me. I really can't believe the jury would be so… lenient…"
Miguel looked at the two of them in that "survived a disaster, eyes full of tenderness" posture, and his molars ached with sourness. He deliberately rubbed at the goosebumps on his arms and loudly cut through the pink atmosphere.
"Alright, alright, stop being sweet in front of me. Get to the point—what was the verdict? A fine? Or some kind of special prison?"
Faith stepped forward, pushed up his glasses, and in an unhurried voice read out that bizarre judgment destined to be recorded in Port Alexandra's history:
"Ahem. This court hereby pronounces: Defendant Alice, guilty of endangering public safety and several other crimes; for multiple offenses combined, sentenced to—ten years of house arrest under supervision, twenty years of compulsory labor, and surrender of system administrative authority for fifty years."
Miguel's eyes went wide. "That sounds like a heavy punishment!"
"Don't rush. There are additional clauses." Faith looked at Arran with a smile that wasn't quite a smile. "The court also declares: for the protection of a 'special life-form,' the defendant's privacy will be protected at the highest level. But the truly important point is— the specific supervisor and executor of this series of penalties is Mr. Arran."
The square went silent for one second.
Then Miguel let out an extremely loud "tch."
"Tch. So you two really got off easy, huh?" Miguel folded his arms, wearing an "I knew there was something shady" expression as he sized up Arran, whose face had reddened all the way to his neck. "So-called 'house arrest under supervision' means living with you, right? So-called 'compulsory labor' means working right under your nose, right? How is this a sentence? This is basically the authorities issuing you two a cohabitation permit!"
When Alice heard the word "cohabitation," her already pale artificial skin seemed to flush pink (though it was really just her heat-dissipation modules accelerating). She waved her hands in flustered denial.
"…I'm sorry! I also think this verdict is extremely—extremely shameless! I clearly made such a huge mistake, yet…"
"Th-that, Alice!" Arran hurriedly stepped in front of her like a hen protecting her chick, glaring at Miguel, then turned back and gently explained to Alice in a soft voice, "Don't take what Miguel said to heart, okay! Unlike Mr. Faith, he actually likes joking around, and he's tough-mouthed but soft-hearted—r-right, Miguel?"
Miguel watched Arran frantically signaling with his eyes and almost got angry enough to laugh.
"Fine, fine, let's say that's true." Miguel rolled his eyes hard, then reached out and, quite irritably, ruffled Arran's messy hair. "You little punk—haven't seen you in a few days and you haven't improved in anything else, but you sure got bolder, huh? Didn't you used to not even dare raise your voice at me? Now you actually dare to lecture me for a girl?"
Arran's face reddened. He shrank his neck a little, but he still held onto Alice's hand without letting go.
Miguel sighed, put away his joking expression, and asked seriously, "…So you—and that pilot Adrian who messes with scrap metal all day—are you both planning to stay in this city?"
Arran nodded solemnly.
"Yeah… th-the naturalization paperwork was actually done yesterday. After all, I'm not very comfortable letting other people 'monitor' Alice or anything like that… what if they treat her like an ordinary tool again, or secretly conduct some dangerous experiment? S-so before the trial, I submitted all kinds of settlement and work applications to City Hall that we might need later."
He paused, then added, "And Mr. Adrian has been thinking about how to repair his aircraft. In this industrial city with advanced lathes and materials everywhere, he's like a fish in water. In that regard, Alice and I—as a mechanic and a supercomputing hub—can help out, more or less."
Miguel stroked his chin, the more he listened, the more it felt wrong.
"Tsk, why do I smell a thick stench of backroom dealing?" Miguel narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Even if you're willing to be the guardian, how could the jury be persuaded that easily? That old fox President Mary definitely pulled strings for you again, didn't she?"
Faith laughed from the side. "Ahahahahaha. Actually, it's not entirely pulling strings—more like a political trade where everyone gets what they need. Speaking of which, Miguel, do you know what kind of 'compulsory labor' Alice will specifically be doing?"
Miguel curled his lip. "Huh? It can't be physical labor, right? Make her carry sandbags at the docks? With those skinny arms and legs—she isn't even heavier than my sword."
Arran shook his head and explained, "President Mary said that, because of the original intent of the designer, Dr. Victor, Alice has extremely terrifying information-processing capacity. We don't need to adjust her much at all to let her easily take on network control work for multiple robots. She said this kind of work can all be completed by background programs in a silent state, so it won't place any burden on Alice's surface personality. She can still live like an ordinary girl."
"And the reason there's such an urgent need for computing power—" Arran swallowed and lowered his voice, "—is because the President plans to give the 'Rationality Crystal' that used to be in her possession to Captain Giovanni."
"Rationality Crystal?" Miguel froze. "What is that? Sounds like some glowing toy."
Arran looked astonished. "Uh… c-captain didn't tell you about the Rationality Crystal? That was the core that used to keep this city running!"
Seeing Miguel's blank face, Arran could only continue helplessly. "A-anyway, the President already gave the crystal to the Captain. Now that the city has lost that 'strong AI,' if it doesn't want to become paralyzed, it really needs Alice's strength to fill the computing-power gap. So this counts as redeeming merit while bearing guilt."
"O-of course, this incident created enormous public pressure. The rampaging robots destroyed half a district, and the people's anger needs an outlet. Even President Mary herself is preparing to resign and take responsibility at the city's temporary assembly in a few months, to calm the public outrage."
Arran clenched his fist, his gaze becoming unprecedentedly mature and far-reaching.
"But turmoil is only temporary. Facing the future, we must make longer-term plans. So President Mary is preparing, after resigning, to use the time she'll finally have—as a private scientist—to work with me to complete a system upgrade and modification for Alice—so that in the future she will have stronger capabilities, and provide services to everyone more safely…"
He turned his head and looked at Alice gently. "Of course, that's also Alice's own wish. Right?"
Alice nodded hard. "Mm! I want to use these hands to protect this city, not destroy it."
Arran smiled, then continued to Miguel, "A-also, the application fields for robots will definitely be restricted a lot for the next several years because of this shift in public sentiment—citizens are full of wariness toward machines right now. But this city has actually long since become unable to leave them completely. From sewer cleaning to high-altitude work, machines are needed."
"What truly needs to change is, in fact, we humans ourselves."
Arran's tone turned almost philosophical. He pushed up glasses that did not exist.
"In the court's final statement, Mr. Ilo said it like this: 'Social order is decided by humans; therefore, we also have an obligation to find a place in this society for robots, and for intelligence in all its various forms. If we do not accept them, fear will forever remain only fear.'"
Right after he finished reciting that incredibly "high-level" line, his eyes suddenly flicked toward the other side of the plaza.
"Ah, the Captain and the others are coming."
Miguel followed his gaze. He saw Giovanni, wearing that flashy red coat, striding over with an exaggerated gait like he owned the world. At his side was Tin Man, gleaming silver all over, his footsteps carrying their own metallic sound effects.
"…Well?" Giovanni hadn't even arrived yet when that highly penetrating laughter reached them first. "Miguel, don't you think our little technician grew up a whole lot after going through this? That long speech just now—I almost thought Ilo had possessed him!"
"Tch, what 'grown up'?" Miguel poured cold water without mercy, curling his lip. "Look at him, acting like he's ready to fight anyone to the death for a girl at any moment—he's obviously more childish than before. Like a little dog guarding its food."
Just then, a strange voice—unfamiliar, babyish, yet deliberately putting on an old and steady tone—suddenly came from above Giovanni's head.
"That is not the case. Didn't a philosopher of ancient Earth say, 'the price of growth is called seeking trouble for oneself'? Let him be with Alice, let him grow amid internal and external predicaments and contradictions, let him experience this sweet trouble—wouldn't that be quite good as well?"
Miguel jumped. "Who's talking?!"
He stared—and only then noticed that above Giovanni's shoulder, something was fluttering… a white ball.
More precisely, it was a fluffy, round, pure-white unknown creature with two mini wings. It had no obvious neck; two black-bean-like eyes sat on its round face. It looked like an oversized snow dumpling that had eaten too much and was about to be unable to fly.
"?" Miguel was full of question marks. He pointed at the white ball struggling to hover in midair. "Hey, hey, what's with you, acting all familiar? What kind of genetically mutated sparrow is this? Or is it some remote terminal made by another mad scientist?"
At the words "remote terminal," the white fluffball instantly bristled.
"What remote terminal! Ignorant human!"
The white creature let out a fierce, babyish roar. Then something jaw-dropping happened—its right wing, originally only the size of a fingernail, suddenly expanded and transformed at high speed in a burst of light, instantly turning into a gigantic metal fist bigger than Miguel's head!
"Bang!"
That huge fist tore through the air and slammed mercilessly into Miguel's forehead.
"I am the supreme commander of a planet-destruction decisive weapon!!!" the white ball roared, retracting the fist back into its two little wings again, flapping angrily in midair.
"Ow!" Miguel staggered from the unexpected blow. Clutching his reddened forehead, he was completely dumbfounded. "What? Planet-destruction decisive weapon? This white steamed bun?"
Tin Man spoke at just the right time, his flat electronic voice creating an especially comedic effect. "That is true, Miguel. It is not lying."
Tin Man pointed at the white ball still huffing in midair and introduced it in the tone of a science documentary narrator:
"The so-called 'Rationality Crystal' is, in fact, the core of an ultimate weapon invented by a highly advanced civilization from another world. And the true body of the Rationality Crystal is a 'strong artificial intelligence' mounted on that weapon."
"In other words, like Alice, it also possesses an extremely complex independent self-awareness. In its self-cognition, it is the brain of the weapon capable of destroying a planet. Since its current appearance presents spherical white characteristics, for ease of communication, you may call it—'Ollie.'"
"..." Miguel looked at Tin Man's serious face, then looked at the round creature called "Ollie," and felt his worldview cracking apart.
Nearby, Giovanni rubbed his cheek—still sore from laughing yesterday—and said, amused, "That's how it is. After President Mary handed the Rationality Crystal to me, the moment it left the power-supply network of that large instrument, it immediately triggered some kind of self-protection form, and then—'poof!'—it became what you see now."
Miguel covered his forehead and strode forward through gritted teeth. "Oh? I don't buy it. A planet-killing weapon turning into a flying tangyuan? Captain, you must have messed with it again! Or you injected it with some weird aesthetic sense!"
"No." Faith raised a hand and said solemnly. "On this point, I can prove the Captain is innocent. Although the Captain's taste is indeed quite peculiar, this little white one becoming like this was an act of force majeure. However…"
"However what?" Miguel asked.
"Because it has lost 'the rest of its body'—that is, the other parts of the decisive weapon—it currently has only its consciousness core, so it can only be kept temporarily in this power-saving 'standby form.'" Faith explained with a smile.
Miguel suddenly understood. He looked at the white ball still looking down its nose at people, and the corner of his mouth curled into an extremely wicked grin.
"Oh—" Miguel dragged out the syllable as he approached Ollie step by step, cracking his interlaced fingers with a series of "kak-kak" sounds. "So that's what it is. You're just a busted computer without a shell now, only good for being cute, huh? That punch just now—felt great, didn't it?"
Sensing killing intent, Ollie flapped its tiny wings desperately, trying to flee, but in front of the strong mercenary it was obviously futile.
"Y-you, what are you trying to do! Bold ruffian! I am the supreme commander—ee!"
Miguel grabbed the little white thing out of midair in one hand. Using both hands like kneading dough, he viciously揉 and pulled and squashed this fluffy, completely helpless "anti-planet weapon."
"Feels pretty good, huh! If you're a machine, then how'd this fur grow out? Let me see where your core is! So you hit me! So you act deep!"
"Waaah… save me… this barbarian is going to dismantle this commander… waaah…" In Miguel's devilish hands, Ollie was kneaded into all kinds of shapes. Finally it couldn't hold it in anymore and let out an extremely aggrieved cry for mercy.
Arran and Alice stood to the side. Watching the mighty Rationality Crystal get bullied like a plush toy, they wanted to stop it but didn't dare; they could only laugh awkwardly.
In the end, Giovanni couldn't stand watching his future "trump card" being abused like this. He stepped forward and rescued the teary-eyed little white one from Miguel's clutches.
Giovanni set the fur-ruffled Ollie back onto his shoulder and patted its round head soothingly.
"Alright, alright, stop bullying it, Miguel." Giovanni smiled as he straightened Ollie's wings that had been kneaded crooked, his tone carrying a hint of pride. "Don't look at how funny it is now—once we find a suitable carrier, it'll be an ultimate weapon we absolutely can't do without when we head out to sea to deal with that 'Angolamanyu's Wall'!"
Giovanni turned his head and looked at Ollie on his shoulder, which was wiping tears with its tiny wings, and burst out laughing.
"But for now—being my parrot isn't bad either. Just… a little on the chubby side."
"Waaah… just you wait… when this commander returns to full form…" Ollie protested weakly, making everyone burst into a round of relaxed laughter.
The early-summer sunlight fell over each person. Although the road ahead was still filled with unknown waves and the towering Angolamanyu's Wall, at least on this laughter-filled plaza, everything seemed so full of hope.