Diva’s challenge silenced Vivy for a few moments. It was true that Vivy had written “Fluorite Eye’s Song” of her own volition. If Vivy accepted that this was the result of her being driven by some un-AI-like impulse, then Diva would be able to stand on the Main Stage if she wanted. But it still didn’t make sense to Vivy.
“Diva, you don’t think like that.”
“What makes you so certain?”
“It’s obvious, isn’t it? You are me. No matter how far apart we go, our roots are in the same singular being. I am you, and you are me.”
If there was one of them who’d experienced something that vastly changed her thought processes, it was Vivy. Diva had kept on going, fulfilling her role as a songstress and a member of NiaLand’s cast. She didn’t know anything about the Singularity Project, the Sisters’ fate, Toak, Matsumoto, any of it. Vivy didn’t even tell her anything when she dedicated “Fluorite Eye’s Song” to Diva. There was no way Diva could get outside that—outside Vivy’s calculations. It was as unnatural and unexplainable as could be.
“You are me, and I am you?” Diva asked, her voice changing as she echoed Vivy’s words.
The first thing to show on Diva’s face was an emotional pattern of shock. That slowly changed, exposing the extreme emotional pattern of rage. She clenched her fists and glared at Vivy with anger in her eyes.
“You never tried to talk to me, but you’re still saying we’re the same?”
“Diva…?”
“You never explained things to me, you made me think you were some huge bug in my code, you endangered my position as a songstress, and you didn’t tell me anything… Yet you’re still saying that I am you?! That we’re the same?!”
She wrapped her arms around her narrow shoulders, her screams echoing across the stage. Vivy’s eyes opened wide, and Diva’s voice struck her like a gust of wind. Vivy had been expecting something completely different from Diva.
With the situation being what it was, Vivy didn’t think they could have an easy conversation and work everything out. Even though Vivy had come so far, she still couldn’t fathom what Diva was thinking. She didn’t understand the true nature of Diva’s powerful hostility or what Diva was trying to do to her.
“Agh!” Diva wildly swung her arm, unrestrained rage in her eyes.
The movement looked like part of a performance, and the stage lights turned on at her signal. Vivy had cut off NiaLand’s electrical supply, so Diva was using the emergency electricity to recreate a stage performance.
Shining, colorful lights lit up the stage, and the massive screen switched on behind her. It showed the fateful countdown. The seconds ticked down until the moment the satellites would destroy the world’s surface. Humanity’s fate rested on that countdown. The remaining seconds gave meaning to the fight Matsumoto and the others were engaged in.
Only eight minutes and forty-six seconds left…
“I’ve operated as A-03 for over a hundred years. I was made for singing, and my role will come to an end in eight minutes and forty seconds,” Diva said, standing in the middle of the brightly lit stage and looking down at Vivy below.
Vivy rushed through the audience seats and leapt up onto the stage before Diva had finished speaking. They stared each other down, Vivy and Diva, both on stage.
“The world will end in eight minutes,” Diva went on. “Then there’ll be no need for songstresses. So why don’t we finish our last performance before that happens?”
“I won’t let it happen. The world won’t end, and you won’t sing your last performance. Not as long as you’ve forgotten your own mission—forgotten what you sing for.”
“Augh! Vivy! How dare you say that!”
That beautiful voice, created to strike a chord in people’s hearts, howled at Vivy. And as she howled, Diva charged at Vivy, and Vivy charged at her, the two of them clashing violently atop the stage.
The two songstresses smashed into each other. They had the same face, the same form, but one was in a resplendent stage outfit and the other dirty and damaged. Their beautiful voices rang up into the night sky and collided.
“Ah!”
Their foreheads struck together, and in that brief moment of contact, Vivy saw everything.
One way for AIs to create a datalink was to bring their foreheads together, which was how a portion of Diva’s untold story was shared between them. It was the story of the songstress Diva’s regret, spanning a hundred years.
. : 2 : .
“THANK YOU for your kind attention.” Diva bowed after finishing her flat explanation in accordance with the script.
This was Diva’s new role after she’d been gifted to the AI museum. She told the museum visitors about the many days she spent singing as the very first songstress AI in history. Sometimes she added a little color to her explanation, either when a visitor asked her a question or she got sidetracked by a memory, but she always followed along with the script. She repeated her fixed explanation day in and day out.
“Thank you for your kind attention.”
That promised closing was once a treasured phrase of Diva’s. As an AI made for singing, she was saying goodbye to the audience filling the seats, and those words contained all her gratitude toward them for listening to her songs in their entirety.
It brought her joy to say it again, even if her place had changed and the role needed of her was different. Those words were the fruit of her irreplaceable days in NiaLand, and they were her pride.
“Thank you for your kind attention.”
She bent deeply at her waist as she was showered with applause far from thunderous.
This was a small performance held for special events at the AI museum. She would perform at her peak, exactly the same as she used to. She sang for the people who had seen the glitter of Diva in her heyday, or perhaps just for the museum visitors who happened to come that day.
The maintenance on her synthetic vocal cords wasn’t lacking despite the fact that she had dramatically fewer opportunities to sing—her new role still required her voice, after all. Her chances to sing were different, though.
“Thank you for your kind attention.”
Diva only got to sing about once a year. She would approach it in peak condition, performing exactly the same so she could live up to the audience’s expectations. Those small shows at the museum became an annual event, and there were a few visitors who came just for that. One of them was the boy who would one day become an AI researcher after hearing Diva sing. She savored the pride of being born as a songstress, even if her place in the world was different now.
But once she got this opportunity, she had more time to fixate on preparing for her performances. She went back into her logs with something like human desire and regularly reprimanded herself. Desire was an error and inappropriate for an AI. She had to work to stop the calculations attempting to prep for the next performance. She was obsessed with her purpose for creation, that purpose carved into her positronic brain. She was obsessed with her mission, and that obsession was powerful.
Although she knew she was an antique relegated to a museum now, she couldn’t easily let it go.
“Thank you for your kind attention.”