Kozakura frowned. “No way. Where are they now?”
“We brought them back, so Tsuji-san at DS Research should be handling them.”
“Tsuji, huh... Well, whatever, we’re getting off track. Getting back to the topic of our conversation, the language model I’m attempting to create may be able to be developed into a communication tool with the Otherside. That said, it’s still only at the conception stage. I can’t just implement such an advanced function all of a sudden. First I have to start by building the language model, then aim to use it as a simulator. If the model is correct, it may be able to predict occurrences on the Otherside.”
“You think it’ll go that well?”
Kozakura smirked at my question. “Dunno. I’ve only just started making it, after all. I figure if it’s as good as the weather forecast, I’ll be doing well.”
Toriko let out a sigh of admiration. “Y’know, I think I’m seeing Kozakura do something like a researcher for the first time.”
“Don’t get sassy with me.”
“Listen... The fact is, even if you’ve had a change of heart, you’ve really shaken off whatever was holding you back. I mean, up until now, you always said you were doing your best not to think about the other world.”
“Well, yeah.”
“Was taking in Kasumi such a big influence on you?”
“Must’ve been,” Kozakura acknowledged. “To some extent, it was Kasumi who inspired this idea. I thought if I did the same thing as her word salad, I might be able to construct a language model for the Otherside.”
“Automatic generation may only create nonsense,” I cautioned her.
“That’s one of the things I’ll be able to test. You could say this is basic research on the Otherside.” Kozakura leaned back in her chair before continuing. “If you think about it, I’d never even thought to do research on the level of gathering data in order to build a model. Even though I had so much motivation before learning about the existence of the Otherside.”
“What were you doing back when you had that motivation?” I asked.
“Heh heh,” Kozakura let out an embarrassed chuckle. “Get this. I was originally into UFOs.”
“Huh?” I blurted out.
“You, into UFOs, Kozakura?” Toriko said in disbelief.
Come to think of it, we did talk about something to do with flying saucers the first time we met, didn’t we?
“That said, it’s not like I believed aliens have been secretly visiting Earth. Since ancient times, people have seen strange things in the skies. The question of why that is was a topic that caught my interest.”
“From the perspective of cognitive science, you mean?”
“Yeah, from a CogSci perspective.”
“Oh could it be—” Toriko began to say, then quickly shut her mouth.
“Could it be...what?” Kozakura asked.
“Um, er...could it be that the reason you’re not working at a university is that you were chased out of academia for studying UFOs? I was thinking you might have something like that in your past...” Toriko explained awkwardly.
Kozakura burst out laughing. “It’s not like that, silly. But yeah, maybe it wasn’t a good look. Being an independent researcher of cognitive science already comes across as pretty dodgy on its own, and almost none of the people pushing research into UFOs are normal.”
“Is it okay for you to say that?” I asked.
“Well, it’s the sad truth of the situation. The scary thing is that some of them start out levelheaded and objective, only to turn into total nutcases in their later years. Maybe I’m not one to talk.”
“Well, I think you’re still fine for now, at least...”
“It sure is reassuring having you vouch for my sanity, Sorawo-chan.”
“That was sarcastic, right? Even I could tell.”
Kozakura cackled at my indignant response. It wasn’t funny, though.
“Oh, right,” I said after a moment, “this UFO talk reminded me of something. I had a question I wanted to ask, Kozakura-san.”
“Oh, what’s that?”
“Y’know how we’ve had an experience of the fourth kind, right?”
“Uh, yeah?”
“That terminology of dividing contact into the first through fourth kind came from UFO studies, right? Is there anything that’s beyond that?”
“You mean a fifth kind and beyond?”
“Yes.”
Kozakura looked upwards as if trying to recall.
“A close encounter of the fifth kind is direct communication between humans and aliens. The sixth kind is a close encounter involving casualties, and the seventh is the birth of a child between a human and an alien.”
“A... A child?”
“The eighth kind is an alien invasion, and the ninth kind is official relations between humanity and aliens... I think that’s about how it went.”
“Huh... That’s, uh...”
“Kinda simplistic, huh?” Toriko didn’t hesitate to say what I hadn’t.
Kozakura nodded.
“There’s all sorts of people saying whatever they want at this point, so it’s not a good reference for anything. I feel like I’ve seen lists where aliens manipulating human genetics to force out evolution is the fifth or sixth kind, though.”
“I get where they’re coming from with conversation and casualties, but it’s the one after that, with the human-alien baby that feels kinda strange to me,” I said.
“Maybe they don’t have to go in numerical order?” suggested Toriko.
“Oh, that makes sense. If it’s just saying that there could be that sort of close encounter too.”
“Well, I don’t know about that,” said Kozakura. “The system presumes an increasingly ‘high level’ of contact as the numbers go up. That’s why the appropriateness of the ranking is open to consideration, and criticism.”
After that serious remark, Kozakura’s tone became more casual.
“But y’see...” she continued. “There seriously aren’t enough UFO researchers who do that sort of thing properly!”
“O-Oh, is that a fact?” I asked.
“It is. The guys talking about UFOs don’t have their feet on the ground. They lack the self-awareness to see just how much their views on UFOs are shaped by their own cultural background and religious views. When I hear an account of UFOs with blatant Christian influences, it’s just off-putting for me. It’s boring, seriously.”
“Uh-huh...” I didn’t really get it, but it was clear she had all sorts of complaints.
“What I got from all that is that preexisting systems for measuring this sort of thing aren’t going to be of much use. But your system of categorizing depth of contact with the Otherside into the first through fourth kind has its origins in that system of measurement, right, Kozakura-san?”
“That’s certainly true.”
“Well, how would you define a close encounter of the fifth kind with the Otherside?”
“Let’s see...” Kozakura thought about it. “I’d always assumed the end result of contact of the fourth kind would be death, disappearance, or madness, so in all honesty, I’d been avoiding thinking about it. But...”
“Sorawo and I disprove that theory,” Toriko noted.
“So far, at least. Don’t get full of yourselves.” Kozakura glared at us before continuing. “Sorry that this is a boring answer, but wouldn’t you say that a close encounter of the fifth kind with the Otherside is also dialogue with an Otherside entity?”
“Communication...” I echoed. “If that’s what it is, then I feel like we’ve already had one.”
“Really? Do you think that you’ve been able to establish communication with them?”
I was at a loss for what to say to that.
“I don’t think so, no,” I concluded.
“Didn’t think so. It’s not even clear that it’s possible. Interaction and communication aren’t the same.”
“Do you think with your program, we’ll be able to communicate?” asked Toriko.
“I’ve only just taken the first step towards laying the groundwork for that,” Kozakura said, a far-off look in her eyes. “Let me confess—the original concept was different. You know what you were saying earlier, Sorawo-chan, about how automatic generation might only produce garbage? That’s exactly what I was trying to do: create a massive amount of garbage.”
“Huh? What do you mean by that?” I asked.
“If the Otherside are referencing human ghost stories, then by flooding their source of reference with copious amounts of garbage ghost stories, they would be forced to reference them, and might not be scary at all anymore.”
I was taken aback by this. “You’re telling me you were trying to attack the Otherside using automatically generated ghost stories?!”
“Yup. My initial goal was to destroy their channel with a saturation attack using spam.”
“Why would you do that...?”
“Why? Because I was pissed they kept on frightening me. That’s enough of a motive, isn’t it?”
“Maybe for you, Kozakura-san...” Even as I was still feeling shaken by the revelation that Kozakura had been plotting destructive actions against the Otherside, she went on talking.
“But I gave up. Figured it probably wouldn’t have any effect. There are already plenty of ghost stories that aren’t scary, but the Otherside’s approach is effective in causing fear because their focus isn’t on the stories they reference, but on the human sense of fear. That being the case, what I was doing was pointless—or so I thought when I gave up on it, but then I realized another use for it. This was just around the time I took in Kasumi, so the timing was perfect. Otherwise I’d have gone on generating meaningless spam, or forgotten the whole thing.”
“That’s nice...” I said.