“We need an administrator?”
“Yes.”
I had been doing work in the laboratory like usual when Rei brought me to the common room to talk.
“The Loop System will be largely governed by TAIM, but she can’t do everything by herself,” she said. “A real person needs to manage things somewhat.”
“And that’s where the administrator comes in.”
“Right. They would have to be familiar with the Loop System, so it comes down to either you, me, or Lene.”
So she said, but I didn’t see Lene around.
“If you’re looking for Lene, she already declined,” Rei explained. “She said something about being unqualified for the role.”
“Oh, I see.”
“She’s way too harsh on herself, honestly. She’s more capable than she thinks.”
I had to agree with Rei. Lene was an excellent researcher; she just had confidence issues. She was pretty self-assertive though, which led me to think her confidence issues stemmed from something deeper.
“How about it, Claire? Do you think you could be an administrator?”
“Tell me what the role would entail first. I can’t accept it without hearing that.”
“Naturally.” Rei activated her holo-computer, partitioning the display so I could see. “The administrator would have three main duties. The first would be to maintain the Loop System.”
According to her explanation, the role would have me working with TAIM to govern the Loop System and keep humanity existing for as long as possible. That involved handling unforeseen incidents, physical maintenance, and adjusting the civilization’s direction when necessary.
“Your second duty would be to govern TAIM. TAIM is an exceptional AI, but she occasionally has errors in judgment. The administrator would be needed to handle that as well.”
In the event that TAIM made a decision that negatively impacted humanity, however slim the chance of that occurrence might be, it would fall to the administrator to use their privileges to override her.
“And your third duty would be to decide when to stop the loops.”
“Huh?” I said, bewildered. “Why would we stop the loops? If we did that, then…”
“Yes. Humanity would come to an end,” Rei said, finishing my words for me. “The Loop System exists to enable humanity’s survival, but I believe it will be necessary for someone to be able to make the decision as to whether humanity should continue for all eternity.”
“Wait, that isn’t something one person alone should decide,” I protested. “At the very least, we should leave it to the leaders of that time to make the decision. No, actually, nobody should have the power to end humanity in the first place!”
Rei tilted her head to the side. “Are you sure? Hypothetically speaking, if there was an unfixable bug in the Loop System and humanity was forced to continue cycling through great pain and distress, should humanity persist?”
This time, I couldn’t find the words to immediately counter her argument. This hypothetical was very similar to the problems posed at end-of-life care, namely whether it was better to try to extend life or allow a natural death. While extending life as long as possible sounded nice, it often meant prolonged pain and enduring the gradual loss of physical autonomy—something that not every person would readily assent to. Simply being kept alive couldn’t be called truly living.
“Even so,” I said, “I don’t believe such a decision should be left to a single person.”
“I see. I actually feel the same way when it comes to that. Leaving things to a single person to decide is a bit dangerous.”
I let out a sigh of relief.
“That’s about it for the explanation. What do you think, Claire?”
What did I think? Was she asking if I wanted to be this administrator?
“Can two people not be administrators together?” I asked.
“I’d rather not have multiple people share supreme authority. It would inevitably cause problems in the chain of command.”
“Then what if we have you be the administrator and me be the vice-administrator? Could we do that?”
“Oh. I hadn’t thought of that,” Rei said, surprised. “We might be able to bear the eternal solitude better that way too.”
“The what?”
“The eternal solitude. The administrator’s consciousness will be kept separate from the loop cycle. While the rest of humanity’s memories are reset with each cycle, the administrator’s, and I suppose the vice-administrator’s, memories would remain unchanged.”
I was a bit worried. “A single loop would at the very least span tens of thousands of years, would it not? Could we really withstand that, countless times over, all while doing our work?”
Rei nodded. “A fair concern. We would have to be careful not to overexert ourselves. We could perhaps work only during the transitional period between civilizations, and during the rest of the time, we’d live normally among other humans—barring any emergency circumstances that required our attention, of course.”
So we wouldn’t be working as administrators all the time, then. That made it better…I supposed?
“What do you think, Claire? Do you want to be an administrator with me?” Rei offered her hand to me.
But though I wanted to, I couldn’t take it, not without hesitation.
“Let me ponder this for a bit. It’s an absurdly big decision; I can’t give an immediate yes or no.”
To become an administrator—even vice-administrator—would mean being responsible for the continued well-being of all humanity. That meant bearing the weight of countless lives as they rested on your shoulders.
According to Rei’s explanation, the new humans would follow the same history as our own, which would enable us to more easily adjust things behind the scenes. That meant the same cruel wars and genocides of the past would recur, and we would have to just shut our eyes to all of it. But even if I agreed to that, I would still have to bear the responsibility of managing the Loop System. A single slipup could bring an end to all of humankind. Could I handle the mental load?
Thinking about all that came with the role had me, quite frankly, terrified.
“I understand,” Rei said. “This is a big decision. Take your time and think things over. I’ll set things up for you just in case, so let me know.”
“What will you do, Rei?”
“Regardless of what you choose, I’ll be an administrator. Somebody has to do it, after all.”
Somebody has to do it.
I felt an overwhelming sense of guilt upon hearing her say that. I was the one who had pulled her into this project in the first place, on TAIM’s advice. She had no concrete obligations. She had even tried to leave once. If I hadn’t stooped to such low means to keep her here, she’d be free. My selfishness then has forced this terrible burden on her.
“Rei, on second thought, I think I’ll do it, after all—”
“Don’t, Claire,” Rei shook her head. It was like my thoughts were entirely transparent before her eyes. “You shouldn’t become an administrator with half-hearted resolve. There’s no need to hurry, so please think this through thoroughly.”
She booted down her holo-computer and stood. As she left, I could do nothing but follow her with my eyes.