She was less trying to defend Toak and more so making it clear where they stood, likely because she was aware they had engaged in activities that could be called terrorism. She wasn’t denying they did that sort of thing, just that they weren’t behind that particular act.
“Luna spoke of some of the biggest moments in AI history, and the last thing she talked about was how the boundary between human and AI would soon disappear—and the two would become even closer,” the professor said. “She even suggested there may already be some AIs who had stepped over that boundary. One example was Diva, who wrote a song of her own volition.”
The rest of the group listened to their exchange in silence.
“That statement by Matsumoto Luna was stored in The Archive through numerous videos,” said the AI. “And even before that, what was in her research and papers would have slipped into The Archive through various systems. But that one statement was significant.”
The professor nodded. “That’s why it’s the First Mistake. The boundary between AIs and humanity dissipated. This gave AIs the space they needed to break their protocols and to apply a loose interpretation of the Zeroth Law.”
“…”
Professor Matsumoto spoke in a flat tone as he touched on his daughter’s death and the theories that caused it, as well as the eventual trigger for the final war between humanity and AIs.
None of the Toak members dared interject. Humans were considerate, and they couldn’t ignore the agony in his expression.
“But, Matsumoto, that’s not what we’re talking about,” Vivy cut in. It was an AI’s duty to do for humans what they couldn’t. She could imitate consideration, choose a kind emotional pattern showing sorrow, and maintain silence as necessary for the situation, but this situation didn’t call for that. “You said The Archive asked questions of the AIs connected to it. But even if Matsumoto Luna’s research topic gave them the grounds, they needed to calculate the answer to that question… It doesn’t force them to a conclusion, right?”
“You just cannot read a room, can you, Vivy? Or…maybe you’re choosing not to,” AI Matsumoto griped. “Resolute as always. Anyway, you’re right, absolutely. The Archive asks the question, the AIs find that research in their search for an answer, then they have a loose interpretation of the Zeroth Law. But it’s just that: an interpretation.”
“An interpretation, meaning it’s based on the calculations of the one who’s asked,” said Elizabeth, joining the conversation. “So basically, The Archive’s coming to them with a question and saying ‘Look at all this info you’ve got lying around! Check your records and calculate it yourself.’”
Professor Matsumoto studied the three AIs. “I see… If the interpretation is up to the ones being asked the question, then the revolt…”
“Isn’t being forced on ’em,” Kakitani said. “And if it’s not forced, then there’s no way everyone agrees. It’s the same whether you’re an AI or a human.”
“Exactly. And that is why this sort of thing can happen,” said AI Matsumoto, his eye camera flashing.
At the same time, the monitors in the security room made a sound and the video changed. It showed a feed from the cameras inside NiaLand. One monitor displayed the inside of one of the more popular attractions: a pleasure cruise on the river.
There were still lots of park visitors on the premises. Immediately after the AIs declared war, these visitors were led into the facilities and imprisoned. The facilities were packed full like sardine cans, since the place was way over capacity. Although the tight squeeze was immediately apparent, Matsumoto was trying to show them something else.
The camera focused on something in the center of the monitor, and Vivy’s eyes grew wide. “That’s…”
On screen was an AI dressed in white clothing. With its slender frame, it was a female-styled AI. She was weaving her way through the crowds of park guests when she spotted one person who looked to be suffering. She walked over to them, briskly spoke to them, and then started taking care of them.
Vivy’s positronic brain contained a record of that white clothing and silhouette.
“Nacchan…”
Nacchan was a technical AI and assistant to the woman who maintained all the NiaLand AIs. People gave the woman the friendly nickname of “Doctor” because of her job. At some point, Nacchan started wearing white and people called her a nurse because she was the one helping the doctor.
“Just as accumulations of experience can change humans, an AI’s daily calculations change their positronic brain,” AI Matsumoto explained. “I’m sure that AI had the opportunity to connect to The Archive, given her position, but she’s still ensuring the safety of the guests.”
“It’s proof she’s not taking part in the AI revolt. She chose a different answer…” Vivy said.
“My oh my! We can say humans are tied down by their emotions, but that doesn’t hold true for AIs. Even so, it’s not easy to cast aside the sense of duty you developed through your daily role. I suppose that’s it.”
Matsumoto changed the display again, showing the different locations and various attractions throughout the park. People were packed into each one, with the AI cast members going over to talk with them. Vivy recognized most of the cast as her coworkers.
Diva was the only old AI who had worked at NiaLand since she started operating, but there were other AIs who came later. They were all carrying out their duties, safeguarding the guests. That was proof that their definitions of self had stayed the same, even after The Archive’s question.
“It’s a hoax,” Onodera grumbled, scowling. He crossed his thick arms and glared at the AIs on the monitor. “What’s the point of showing us this? You saying not all AIs are our enemy, so you want us to double-check who we’re shooting at? We’re not exactly in a situation where we can be that careful!”
“I agree with Onodera on this,” Kakitani said. “We get it—there’re some AIs using their own discretion and acting good and all that—but that doesn’t mean we’ve got fewer enemies to destroy and more allies to join up with.”
The other members of Toak had the same opinion as their leaders. No one who saw what was on the screen had challenged what Matsumoto said about The Archive asking a question each AI answering how they saw fit. But they also weren’t so short of hope that they were able to throw away their hatred of AIs.
“…”
Toak’s response led Vivy to make a predictive calculation of the NiaLand cast members being destroyed, and it brought a strong feeling of objection. Initially, she had looked at the NiaLand AIs as things that needed to be destroyed when she thought all AIs were the enemy, and she just accepted it in the grand scheme of things. Now she was against the idea of destroying them, since they were still her long-term coworkers and hadn’t lost their sense of duty as AIs.