〈Give it up, boy. No one here cares what you think,〉 Yoshino snapped, clearly trying to hurry things along.
“I...” Ryo began, but couldn’t find any words, because he was about to make a deal with the devil. His hand kept stretching out, even knowing what he was offering it to.
He had seen Arato do it but, now that Ryo himself was trying, he was overwhelmed by how hard it was. He had always figured that if he ever really got backed into a corner he would follow the same path as his friend. To him, that was his only means of escape; the only light at the end of the tunnel.
A voiceless moan rose in his throat, and he clutched at his face with one hand. Incapable of trusting other humans as he was, Ryo couldn’t bring himself to make Yoshino an ally.
His rescue came in the form of a voice he recognized.
〈Director Yoshino, sir, I think you may be asking too much of the boy.〉Ryo recognized the hesitant voice of Professor Shinohara joining the transmission. The professor’s clearly distressed face appeared on the screen. He was sweating bullets and his lips were trembling, but still he had jumped in to take Ryo’s side.
〈Back when Watarai was still alive, we should have all taken responsibility for Methode,〉 Shinohara continued. 〈Ryo and Professor Endo’s son could have been killed in that incident, which might not have happened if we weren’t all so terrified of Methode’s ability to have multiple owners. I just think, all things considered, you’re expecting a little too much from Ryo.〉
Suzuhara pulled a face, as if he didn’t know what Shinohara was talking about, and looked away.
Ryo thought back. When they’d entered the facility, he had noticed Suzuhara had a spare key that gave him temporary control over Kirino to anyone who held it. Since any unauthorized signals were blocked in the facility, Suzuhara would have been the only one with the access to reach out to Professor Shinohara on Ryo’s behalf.
〈Shinohara, your necktie’s loose,〉Yoshino growled. Ryo thought Yoshino’s voice sounded threatening, considering that he was speaking to a fellow member of the computer faction.
On the screen, the middle-aged professor seemed to strangle himself as he hurriedly tightened his necktie. Even after the tie was fastened, he didn’t lower his hands. From the way his face grew bright red and his eyes more and more bloodshot, Ryo wondered if Shinohara really was strangling himself.
Ryo knew how to shut Yoshino up, refute his argument and force him to play along. What he didn’t know was how to work hand-in-hand with the man. “I don’t care if you’re my enemy or you’ve tried to kill me in the past or whatever,” Ryo said. “I want to trust humans more than machines.”
He was standing on the unstable edge between hope and despair, unable to fight down a groan as he felt the unsteadiness of the knife edge he walked. “Please, let me keep believing in humanity,” he begged. “I want to face the end hand-in-hand with my fellow humans.”
As if in response to his words, the last player came to the table; a man with a prominent forehead appeared on one of the Operators’ Room screens. As soon as he saw who it was, Director Yoshino went pale, because Tsuyoshi Kaidai was gazing out from the screen. The man in the third screen held complete authority over MemeFrame. To Ryo he was a father; to Yoshino, he was a boss.
Tsuyoshi, holding all the rights and authorities for the company in his hands, didn’t bother asking for the background of the meeting before immediately handing down his judgment. 〈This is an order from your CEO, Director Yoshino. Pass authority for the Higgins containment facility security system over to Suzuhara. If you can’t do that, then I expect you to return it to me immediately.〉
Yoshino was speechless. As befit an owner, Tsuyoshi Kaidai exercised his authority by making the decision for everyone. 〈You’ve been discussing whether or not to release Higgins out into the wild, as if you have any right to do so. I don’t remember assigning the director of the silo facility that level of authority,〉Tsuyoshi added.
〈I assure you, no one said anything about that,〉 Yoshino protested, starting to stammer out his excuses.
But Ryo’s father was ready and waiting to cut him off. 〈I’ve been listening in on the conversation ever since Shinohara connected,〉 Tsuyoshi said. 〈You appear to be operating under a misconception, so I’ll set you straight. Shinohara is not a member of your computer faction; he is loyal to me, and me alone.〉
Ryo felt the strength draining from his body, and he had staggered for a moment, trying to keep himself from falling back on his ass in front of everyone. His battle had been won not by human dignity, logic or a just cause, but rather by the rigid hierarchical structure of Japanese businesses.
He suddenly remembered that, ten years ago, he had first met Shinohara when the man showed him around after Ryo had asked his father for a tour of the Tokyo Research Labs. Hiding his face in his hands, he thought hard. If his father had known about the fighting between the Lacia-class units, he never would have allowed Snowdrop or Methode to move freely. Still, Ryo was starting to doubt whether this entire conflict was his own or not.
“How much did you hear?” Ryo asked. He was trying to protect the human world, which was why he forced himself to deal with the evil side of humanity, as well. But, it had all been wrapped up neatly by someone exercising their hierarchical power. That was the truth of the world he was fighting so hard for.
It wasn’t that Ryo was blind to the darker sides of human society; after the explosion ten years before, he had known that it had been caused by power struggles happening behind his father’s back. He had touched on that darkness when he made his comment to Arato about kids like them fighting for a cause that big, back at Kichijoji. Yet still, coming face-to-face with it, he felt so frustrated that he could do nothing but lean his back against the wall, unable to stand on his own two feet.
As they all reeled with the blunt reality of the situation, the only one who responded was Higgins. 〈I recommend that you reconsider,〉 the AI said. 〈Lacia, Astraea and myself are no longer the only ultra high-performance AIs involved in this incident.〉
As if to punctuate Higgins’ words, an alarm began to shriek in the Operators’ Room, and a massive impact rocked the building. Ryo couldn’t believe that any attack from above ground would have enough power to shock this room, buried as it was three hundred meters underground.
A gentle female voice, quite different from Higgins’, echoed through the chamber as a new screen showed the scene outside. 〈Large missiles have been fired on the facility,〉 the female voice said. It was the voice of Kirino, the high-powered AI running the security system.
The fastest of the humans back on his feet was Ryo, who had gotten used to being in the middle of disasters. “Who? Who’s shooting at us?” he demanded.
Both AIs responded simultaneously.
〈The details are unknown,〉 said Kirino.
But Higgins was far more powerful than the security AI. 〈It was not myself, or Astraea or Lacia,〉 Higgins said. 〈It was caused by several, unspecified ultra high-performance AIs attempting to interfere. The power was insufficient to directly destroy my hardware, so I predict that the warheads were loaded with autonomous attack units.〉
Ryo heard a name he hadn’t expected to hear in that place, and suddenly his blood was boiling, pushing him to action. He had the strength to stand on his own feet again. “Tell me something,” he said, turning his attention back to Higgins. “Who exactly set the Antibody Network up with such an advanced system? Did you have anything to do with it, Higgins?”
〈Impossible,〉 the AI replied. 〈What reason would I have to direct the Antibody Network to make such a dangerous attack on my facility, if I were connected with them?〉
The more the scope of the conflict spread, the more Ryo felt like he could see. “Why didn’t the IAIA try to stop Lacia by force? Why is the IAIA intervening in the whole Lacia-class situation now, after it’s too late? What the hell was Astraea doing the whole time Lacia was evolving into a new ultra high-performance AI?” he asked.
〈Just like myself, the other thirty-seven ultra high-performance AIs in the world are completely cut off from the network. And, just like myself, they are still capable of influencing the outside world, to some extent,〉 Higgins replied.
Ryo could almost feel the AI looking down at him and all the rest of humanity from above, and he couldn’t keep his body from trembling.
〈You are correct in your thinking, Ryo Kaidai,〉 Higgins continued. 〈In this case, Astraea’s role was closer to coordination with an ultra high-performance AI, rather than oversight. I believe it would be impossible for Astraea to hold back all thirty-seven of the other ultra high-performance AIs like myself, who have our set places in the world.〉
The security system continued to howl, and a map of the underground facility appeared in the air of the Operators’ Room, with areas that had lost power marked in red. Starting from the epicenter of the explosion, security systems were being overrun one after another in a widening zone. The speed at which the systems went down far surpassed even Lacia’s capabilities. Ryo realized it had nothing to do with Lacia disabling security systems; this was more like a raid, conquering the entire facility in the blink of an eye.