Chapter 524
Chapter 524
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: +0
Chapter Title: Henceforth, All Paid in Full (2)
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Year 158. A long time, one in which so much was bound to change.
[Uh.... That's about all I know. Does that explain things?]
‘More than enough.’
Fortunately, this old man named Rajerd was quite eloquent, as befitting a high-ranking cleric.
To cut to the chase, I’d misunderstood—badly. So badly I’d been gripping an innocent old man’s throat without mercy.
“Uh.... Sorry about that, old timer.”
“Oh, no need for such words!”
“No, really. I’ve lived a rough life, so my temper’s gotten the best of me.... How’s your throat?”
Rajerd. This fanatic old coot wasn’t some axis of evil dreaming of world conquest via reviving strong AI, nor was he a mad scientist scheming to unleash chaos by resurrecting ancient data souls.
“If it really bothers you, how about dropping the formalities with me? Your polite tone as Professor is more burdensome than my sore throat.”
“Uh.... Alright, brother Rajerd.”
“Oh! Ooooo!”
He was truly just an old devotee utterly immersed in this ‘Hanger Order’ religion.
Huff huff!
“Hey, if it’s okay, could you call me like it says in Reincarnation Verse 4:12—‘Rajerd, ya, the one who bears my life—’”
“Piss off.”
“You learn fast!”
Particularly.... an extremely zealous type.
That aside, ignoring his somewhat dubious tastes, he knew plenty as a high-ranking cleric and had a decent way with words, so his explanations were clean and thorough.
The reason they’d awakened this sacred ancient predecessor personality from its slumber? Because chaos had once again descended upon the world.
The reason they’d awakened me specifically—
“The facility entered maximum security lockdown, sealing all bulkheads. I was hoping you could help undo that....”
—was simply to verify identity for a dead saint’s rigorously preserved electronic personality.
Heh. Heh, fucking hell.
“....Rajerd.”
“Yes! Yes, Professor!”
“If you don’t give me a proper reason right now, I’ll personally collect the life debt you owe me from long ago, this instant.”
This really was the future. Mocking the dead was on another level from our generation.
While I restrained myself from grabbing Rajerd by the collar with saintly patience, this chatty priest thankfully added the missing details.
“The Second Machine Revolution?”
“Yes. Parkoo here, myself, and that terrified citizen in the corner all fled here to the sanctuary to escape the oncoming murder machines. It’s full of precious artifacts, so the security’s top-notch.”
So, they’d taken refuge in a max-security facility to escape the rogue machines, but lacked the authority to override the lockdown systems and were now trapped.
“Hmm....”
“AI civil rights only got proper recognition 40 years ago, so discrimination’s still rampant. All that pent-up resentment from machine intelligences piled up like gunpowder, and the ‘Asteroid Mining Incident’ finally set it off....”
“Any AIs going by names like ‘World’ or ‘System,’ or ones obsessively fixated on ‘errors’?”
“Hmm.... I’m in a pretty high position, so I hear all sorts of reports, but no hostile AIs by those names.”
Phew!
I felt a decade younger. The moment I heard “Machine Revolution,” I’d hallucinated ‘We meet again, Completer’ with ding-ding-ding sounds.
“Good enough. Past stories later—explain what I need to do right now.”
“Ah, yes. We’re isolated here, the berserk machines are dismantling bulkheads and closing in bit by bit, so we figured Professor—whose data soul likely holds exceptional facility privileges—could grant us override access before it’s too late. If we can control security, we can open a bulkhead and escape safely.”
Makes sense. So that’s what the ‘save us’ meant. A bit anticlimactic personally, but human lives were still at stake.
“You said ‘Keeper’ Rajerd, right? That’s a solid rank, yeah?”
“Right below the diocesan head, ‘Hanger Pascalad.’ When he met with misfortune, I took temporary command of the chapter and ended up here.”
“So.... archbishop level? And even you lack authority over the chapter’s underground facilities?”
“The caretaker here is awfully stubborn....”
The situation was coming into focus. Chaos erupted, they fled to a secure facility, got locked in. The ‘caretaker’ holds override authority and, true to form for a zealot, is holding firm with ‘I must protect this sacred place,’ refusing to open the doors even unto death.
Luckily, Rajerd was sharp enough to bring along Parkoo, who looks like a hacker, for just such a scenario. Hence, the sacred ancient data soul descends. Yeah, got it.
-Snap!
“The caretaker’s stubbornness stems from duty to guard ‘Professor’s Sanctum,’ so if I show up and say ‘Scram, my child—’ everything’s solved, right?”
“The direction’s a bit off, but if that’s what you think, it must be correct.”
“Fine then. Where’s this caretaker?”
“He’s always here where Professor slumbers, so probably nearby.... Ah, there he comes.”
Situation grasped, killer machines rampaging outside—time to hustle.
Roasting one stubborn believer, especially one who worships me, is child’s play.
Turning with that thought,
Whirr—clatter...
Whirrr—creak creak, clatter clatter....
I caught sight of the ‘facility caretaker’ and lost my words.
[The old man said it: he’s ‘extremely stubborn.’ Who in the Hanger Order chapter would defy a Keeper?]
Whirrr—
Clatter clatter.... Clunk!
[Unless it’s not human.]
Parkoo’s quiet mutter from within faded into the antique machine noises.
Eight wheels. Balance stabilizers, external batteries, fancy gadgets I didn’t recognize—it looked like an elongated high-tech wheelchair. The difference? Built to service machines, not carry people.
『Creak—creak creak—Hellooo—』
Atop the advanced assists sat a very worn machine, its outer paint nearly gone.
Central small screen. Flapping wing-like panels when it spoke.
The little robot arm and welder I’d attached myself long ago.
『Identity con—failed. Sorry for the inconveneeience—』
It was my drone from dusty memories.
“....Corduro?”
“Yes. That’s Corduro, the AI caretaker of the Hanger Order underground museum, ‘Professor’s Sanctum.’”
Corduro. My little shelter’s housekeeping drone AI.
Over 150 years later, it couldn’t move on its own, loaded with assists, appearing before me.
I’d slumbered in this underground museum for a very long time.
And it was still fulfilling its duty as my housing drone. Managing the house while the master slept.
****
“Corduro.”
『Creak—You called—』
“....Do you remember me? Who am I?”
Grind, grrrrind—
After digging through data for ages—170 years of operation, including my living days—it finally continued.
『Sorryyy. This AI is a Gedroits Company housing drone, learning the owner’s personality for the most friendly, perfect persona—』
“....Hey.”
『Due to chassis degradation, most data lost—cannot answer personal queriesyy—contact Gedroits Company Drone Production: #45217-88-03495....』
“....”
Instead of speaking, I shot Rajerd a look loaded with questions.
“Yes. It’s long past its lifespan. Data degrades over time, machines age too.”
“....Then you could’ve let it rest. Being a museum, is it still active as part of the exhibits?”
Caked in assists just to function, it was wretched enough to call miserable for a machine. Why insist on Corduro as caretaker?
Sensing the quiet anger in my voice, Rajerd prostrated like he’d committed a grave sin.
“Not at all! We’ve tried handing over authority multiple times!”
“....And?”
“Normally, a degraded AI like that auto-terminates, passing authority without checks. But Corduro was peculiar. Personality data gone, yet personal will lingered. Even with mobility and externals totaled, it refused handover without owner’s security clearance.”
Whirr—
Beside us, Corduro’s dead lens zoomed in and out. Like searching for something invisible.
“With Corduro holding all authority in this bunker-level secure museum, we had no choice. Add assists, wait out its last ‘stubbornness.’”
“No....”
Why. Corduro. Why go that far.
Even as I thought it, its lens kept dilating ceaselessly. Internal lamps dead, no vision function.
Whirr—creak. Whirr, creak!
Relentless eye movement. If learning data’s mostly gone, this glitch must embody its final stubbornness.
“....No way.”
I bent to meet its lens.
Corduro’s visual was busted.
Sagging speaker couldn’t parse speech finely.
But for this budget-model drone base—
....Click!
—it had an old iris scanner.
『Creak creak—Identity confirmed.... Owner Professor. Master.』
The fidgeting, vibrating drone stilled. Like it found its goal.
“....Yeah, it’s me.”
『Good morninggg—Today’s weather—Error. Fine dust level—』
“....Enough, you rascal.”
Housing drone’s standard greeting. No memories of our time left. I stripped assists, lifted it—somehow, the whirring felt happier.
『Professor, one forward video log stored. View ittt—』
“....Video log?”
[Impossible? Learning AIs prioritize personality over logs for security. Personality gone, how’s a log survive?]
As Parkoo said, it shouldn’t happen.
Meaning this video endured as Corduro’s ‘stubbornness’ over a century-plus.
『View ittt?』
It repeated through its half-broken mic, insistent.
“....View.”
Fine. Whatever kept you going, I’ll see it. What you treasured over your soul-like data personality.
『Dirk! Video log 1: ‘HappyTime.avi’ playing.』
Yeah. The ‘HappyTime.avi’ you so wanted me to see....
.
.
.
.
?
“—What?!”
No way.
No no no no, you persistent bastard—!!!!
A buried memory of the ‘housing drone blackmail’ incident flashed; I hammered Corduro’s screen with desperate reflexes, but the touchpad had long failed.
“Machine, revolution....”
Crap. Second Machine Revolution means there was a first. It went rogue then, biding time quietly! Striking now in my lapse!!!
Too late; Corduro, ignoring my despair, played it. Dead screen lit up, its POV recording filled view—I bit my tongue for the century’s ultimate blasphemy, but....
“This.... is the museum we’re in now.”
[Don’t! It’s my body! Don’t do it! Don’t, you bastard!!!!]
Parkoo desperately blocking my suicide bid, Rajerd riveted solemnly—saved me.
“....Museum? Not my little shelter?”
“Yes. Building state, exhibit count—looks 100+ years prior.... Heh, precious footage.”
Mercifully, Corduro’s ‘HappyTime’ wasn’t a Professor black history medley. I was long dead when this museum built.
『KABOOOM!』
Corduro’s recording: 100 years ago, Professor’s Sanctum wall spectacularly exploding.
『Cough, cough! Damn kids...! I’m going to see my fr-, friend, and they want per-, permission? Bullshit...!』
Emerging from dust: someone achingly familiar.
Short. Stooped. Once peak nearsighted, now age-appropriate face—Bex.
Gazing sentimentally at exhibits, elderly Bex spotted the camera, approached.
『You too, lo-, long time, Corduro. Been well?』
『Meant to visit often, tried to. But.... didn’t work out.』
『Was scaaared. Of getting chewed out by you guys.』
Clack. Clack. Clack.
Bex pulled cigars, ashtrays from bag. Lit three, set two upright on stands.
Aged body drew smoke deep.
『Still, should’ve come once. Finally mustered courage, but weirdos blocked the entrance....』
He sheepishly pointed at the gaping wall, exhaled sigh-like smoke.
『....Came to entrust something.』
Faint smile, Bex reached for camera. Old data chip for orb drone flashed by; soon another scene filled screen.
Seemed an OR.
「We did it! You were amazing, Dana! So amazing!」
Nolu beaming, tears streaming.
「Show.... me too.... Show me....」
Sweat-drenched, exhausted Dana reaching out.
And. The wriggling blood clot in her arms.
「Our.... baby....」
Birth cry.
Uploaded recording static overlay, Bex’s proud voice.
『Haaappy.... time? Can they see up there too....』
Yeah. Seeing it. Way late, but seeing.
「Kheung! Professor, that irresponsible asshole bastard.... Paternity leave my ass, exploding daddy show for the baby.... Sniff! At this moment, this perfect moment....」
Screen Nolu cursed me wildly through sobs; Dana tugged her collar reprovingly with weary hand.
「Don’t.... overdo it....」
「....Kheung! Don’t care! Screw the guy who left without naming his daughter!」
Daughter. My daughter, unnamed as Nolu said.
「No. He named her already....」
「Sniff! R-, really? When? Two lines? That trip?」
Dana shook head. Stared at camera, like for me.
「Up there. He said it clear. Hopes our lives continue. Did it for that.」
Dana’s eyes—unseeable now—met mine.
「....Prologue. Park Pro. New story’s start. Park Pro. Our cute little Pro.」
Unknowingly, nose nearly touched screen.
Hospital log faded; smoke-wreathed Bex reappeared.
『Cute, right? Pro, little Pro. Park Pro. They call her Pro.』
Bex’s wrinkled face beamed; he upended a small pouch.
『Thought you’d wanna see it.』
Struggling like painful words, Bex finally spoke.
『Came to pay my de-, debt.』
Clatter!
Poured out: a handful of data chips.
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