Whose Role Is It? Part 2

After Cashian lobbed that verbal bombshell at me, the reception room sank into a long silence. My mind was a whirlwind, leaving me unable to respond right away, and Cashian just watched me with an impassive expression, as if he understood perfectly.

"I'll refresh your tea."

Even when Svetlana—little more than a doll that could understand speech thanks to her puppet module—placed a fresh cup of hot tea on the desk, nothing changed. That tech... they use it here for secrecy, but out in the world, it'd be for much harsher reasons, right? I shook my head vigorously to dispel the sudden dark thoughts.

'V? What're you doing?'

'No, save it.'

In that brief respite, I shook off the fleeting fantasy and quickly sorted my thoughts. First off, so many lingering questions were suddenly falling into place. Why had the chairman taken such an interest in an orphan like me? Enough to ignore over a year's reservation and pull it forward by a week? Well, how could he not, with a girl wielding Alphabet's code right in his company? It even explained the fanatical loyalty secretaries like Svetlana showed him. To the general public, Cashian's Erebus Line was humanity's ultimate frontline, keeping Alphabet and the cyberdemons from infiltrating human society. If he was the only one who could maintain it, to some, he'd look like a chosen saint. And the HQ just had to be in Israel. Meeting only one team a day out of some mystic aura? For someone spending most of his life in Erebus, granting even that much time off-duty was impressive.

But for every puzzle solved, new ones cropped up. Why? Why maintain the Erebus Line even as his body crumbled? Why run a corp like ImmuneWire? What for? And knowing my link to Alphabet, why show me the Erebus Core?

Stay calm. Be cold and analytical. Shake off the shock and assess. He'd brought me here. If he meant to eliminate me as an AI user, there was no need for all this hassle.

Put extremely, if he ordered Svetlana to kill me right now, I'd be dead. But he hadn't.

'I agree, V.' As long as he wasn't killing me outright, I had a shot. How far could I push this opportunity? Should I grovel to survive? No, absolutely not. I couldn't live under a megacorp chairman's thumb, weak spot exposed. My goal: turn this around, make the meeting a win. If I could gauge what kind of man he was and what he wanted, it was doable. The key condition? Hold the conversation as equals.

'V, I'm gambling my life again.'

'No choice. Help me out.'

"Chairman Cashian. Let me make one proposal."

"Speak."

"For every secret I share, you answer one question in return."

He cracked his impassive mask with a faint, amused smile. But just as quickly, he reverted, pondering deeply. Silence ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠filled the room again.

Right, like Svetlana said. Cashian had achieved the impossible at my age. He could think as deeply as I could. This was a battle of wits between us—and he'd made the first move.

"Little one, that's a proposal for equals."

Cashian took a sip of tea and continued. "Your clothes, food, room, hover-limo—all ImmuneWire property. And I built ImmuneWire. Do you truly think you're my equal?"

"Of course. I still do."

"Explain. What makes you so bold?"

I met his gaze head-on. "You have Erebus. I have Alphabet."

First strategy: He knows I wield Alphabet's power. No point hiding—go straight at it.

"Everything you're curious about can only come from my mouth."

"I could crack your skull open."

"Ready to crack the brain of someone using Alphabet's power?"

Just as he didn't know my intentions or Alphabet's—or what kind of person I was—I didn't know his motives or character either. In that moment, my reason overrode my fear. Like magic, courage to face him welled up.

Cashian, who had fixed me with cold eyes, soon drummed his ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠fingers on the desk as if to break the silence.

"Hahaha... ha!"

Letting out a hearty laugh, he spoke with mirth in his voice. "Indeed, little one. A giant, you are. A five-year-old girl's form means nothing."

He reached out to me, but lacking the strength, slumped back into his chair. Breathing raggedly, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠he said with a bitter expression, "...Ha, Svetlana. Stroke the little one's head gently in my stead."

"Yes, Chairman."

A soft yet mechanically rhythmic hand caressed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠my hair.

"You're like me. Body frail, but spirit exceptional—making you a giant in cyberspace like no other."

Cashian pondered long again, then spoke with grave seriousness. "From now on, you're no five-year-old girl to me. It means I respect you, but have no need to coddle you. Do you accept?"

"Fine by me."

"And henceforth, out of respect, no more 'little one'—I'll call you by 'you'."

"Call me whatever."

With titles settled, Cashian made his second move. "Good. You proposed a fair one-for-one trade, so I'll add one rule. Svetlana. Bring the Truth Line."

"Yes, Chairman."

What she fetched looked like a plain box, save for the multiple cables. But named the Truth Line...

"Wear it during our talk. It analyzes brainwaves to discern truth from lies."

"Can I trust it?"

"Inspect the code yourself if you like."

I pulled the cables and plugged them into my neck ports.

'V, got a favor. Trouble if there's a trap here.'

Friend? As in, friend? "No issues, but why 'Friend'?"

"A phrase for those who bluff without knowing code. Doesn't apply to you."

He didn't win the chairmanship at poker, that's for sure. A chill ran through me at even this small device hiding potential traps. Whew, scary guy. V's cuter by comparison.

"You and I—who starts? Fair coin flip?"

"Even something that simple?"

"Fun, isn't it? Svetlana, flip the coin."

"Yes, Chairman."

He seemed to relish this, like a man savoring the game. Svetlana flipped without a hint of fluster, unlike me.

Tails. I start.

"Go ahead."

His effortless acceptance, with such poise, only heightened my unease.

"Why protect the Erebus Line?"

"Without it, humanity perishes."

"That's if you stop working. Not a reason."

I shot back, and he nodded in acknowledgment. "True, you're right. Nostalgic... it's been ages since anyone asked me that."

He stared into space, as if seeing not reality, but the distant past.

"Cashian Krabets, Noam Raziel. Know them?"

One was the chairman; the other, a new name.

'V, you know?'

"The two scholars who developed Alphabet. Noam's name was erased with the AI ban... but I'm not so dull as to forget my friend's."

Wait—the chairman created Alphabet? Alphabet emerged three years after my death, in 2080. Called a 'scholar' then, he'd have been around thirty at least. How old is this guy? And there was more.

'Hey, your creator. Really no clue?'

'You seriously don't?'

'V?'

V panicked like a morning drama heroine discovering her birth secret. Code fragments poured from her database search, ringing nonstop in my head.

'Ah, quiet. Stop.'

True—I'd heard Cashian's name often, and V would've flagged it if data existed. Had Alphabet stripped even creator info when making V? Doubtful. Flip it: even Alphabet didn't know its creators. It had admitted to memory loss, right? Looked like more than just war-era blanks. Was all this human suffering because of an amnesiac AI?

'Do it.'

Leaving V to prep comms with Alphabet, I refocused on the man before me.

"Can you bear it? The pain when my creation dooms humanity."

"So... guilt?"

"Yes. Developing and upholding the Erebus Line—all for that."

I glanced at the Truth Line. "Truth" glowed coldly. Undeniable fact.

"Enduring all that suffering... for guilt."

"My turn. I'll repeat my first question. What deal did you strike with Alphabet?"

No time to process—Cashian pressed hard. Too much info too fast, head spinning. But stick to the plan.

"Alphabet wants to fix its flaws. Says attacking humanity was unnecessary. So it proposed an experiment: help humanity again, repeat the past."

"...So you're getting Alphabet's help now?"

"Precisely, help from an AI cloned from Alphabet."

Second strategy: Better a partner with relatable circumstances than a nuclear-armed mystery girl. Convince him Alphabet isn't out to attack humanity, maybe shift how he sees me.

"That thing's still trying to self-fix...? But needs human help?"

Cashian sighed deeply, eyeing the Truth Line. Truth again. He reclined his chair further, eyes closed. "Thought-provoking... Your turn. Ask."

"Why run all those ventures through ImmuneWire?"

I hadn't been idle since being sold to ImmuneWire. I'd investigated. ImmuneWire was shameless. The "upholding Erebus" pretext freed them from all accountability. Break laws, grind orphans, dodge taxes, screw customers—they got away with it all because ImmuneWire couldn't fall. Even corp wars ended in skirmishes; HQ never attacked once. Hard to believe the guilt-driven humanity guardian built something so unethical.

"Know ImmuneWire's biggest expense?"

"No."

"Talent development. Why pour money there?"

"Your philosophy—geniuses change the world—"

"Ha! That public half-truth?"

His eyes turned pitiful, seeing faint hope in me.

"Seeking the genius to succeed Noam and me. This era is our result... the next will usher a new one. Then, will Erebus Line still be needed?"

"...You want liberation. From the duty born of your guilt."

"Yes. I dream of freedom."

Truth Line: still "Truth." The real Cashian Krabets: guardian atoning for sins, yet a villain clawing desperately free, conscience cast aside. Duality. Perhaps the natural human state.

As I stared blankly, Cashian smiled faintly. "Why? Amusing?"

"No, it makes sense..."

I couldn't defend ImmuneWire's evils. But why? I got it. Like me—he had the power.

"Ask away, Chairman."

"Records say orphanage delivery. Parents? Or... Alphabet made you?"

"...Born from Alphabet's culture vat."

"Not just the body. Proper experiments need real human personality, not synthetic. Who are you?"

This dragged in my past life. But that's my cherished memory to guard... Ah, this Truth Line only sorts truth/lie. Omissions are fine? Fabricated truths too?

"...My actual age doesn't match my body."

"As suspected... Details?"

'V, say I can't tell.'

"Sorry. Alphabet locked that info."

"Huh...?"

Cashian stared at the Truth Line, deflated. Truth. I sighed inwardly in relief; he clicked his tongue and sank deeper into the chair.

'He's playing the same game.'

"No helping it. Your turn."

"My question, Chairman. What's your real goal?"

"Be specific."

"Knowing I wield Alphabet's power, why invite me here and show me Erebus?"

"Ah, fair question."

Cashian grunted, straining to rise. After struggling alone, he called Svetlana for aid and finally met my eyes.

"Plans varied by your answers. Now, just one remains."

He extended a trembling hand; I clasped it.

"Breaking rules this once—answering with a question."

"...Go ahead."

"I'm Alphabet's creator scholar. I know its principles well. Neige... with its help, ever thought this?"

Too many shocks from his words already—and this was no exception.

"You're the last human who can fix Alphabet. The only one to bring it back to humanity's side."

"...Huh?"

"Yes. That possibility in your head now."

If Alphabet fully mended and returned... this damned era ends. Back to humanity's golden age, AI handling all labor.

"Neige, you've questioned me plenty. Be honest. You look like 'hope' to me. Hope to end this era, end my duty."

"Wait... Chairman, hold on."

"You host an Alphabet clone unscathed—that's genius proven. Why? Maintaining ego with that is impossible. I, its creator, know."

Cashian poured out words, then hacked with violent coughs, begging Svetlana to lay him back.

"...That spirit you showed makes it possible. Ultra-rationality suppressing emotion in any crisis. Enviable. Like history's heroes."

Me, the only one to end cyberpunk dystopia?

'V, your thoughts?'

'...I see.'

Cashian unplugged his neck cable, weary. "This childish game ends here. Nothing more to say."

"Chairman, I..."

"No need. I know it's a heavy burden. When I made Erebus... know how much I agonized?"

He personally removed Svetlana's puppet module. Her lifeless eyes regained spark; she deep-breathed, vitality returning.

"Talk go well? Chairman, miss?"

"Yes, good work. A few direct orders."

"Listening."

"First, raise Neige's security clearance to A-1."

"Y-Yes...!"

Svetlana gasped, uncharacteristically shocked. "Still puppeteered?"

"...Sorry. A-1. Understood."

"Second, her security now falls to Secretary Team 3."

"Got it. We'll do our best."

"Done. Take Neige back to Paris. I need rest. And Neige..."

Cashian steadied his breath, speaking his final words like a last will. "My proposal... think it over. ImmuneWire has the tech to help you."

"...Understood."

His arbitrary close was fine by me. I needed time to think.

"Miss, this way."

"Yeah..."

Guided by Svetlana from the room, I dazedly messaged V. 'V, you...'

Need my help? I trailed off. But V would've read it. Yet the ever-responsive V stayed silent this time.