Baby Bird in the Alloy 2
It wasn't that I trusted the mad AI that had nearly wiped out all of humanity.
"Cough, cough... Urk."
I opened my eyes in the culture tank, then tumbled out onto the floor almost like I'd been expelled. Even after that, I had to roll around on the ground, vomiting and coughing up every last bit of culture fluid from my lungs and stomach.
Whether it was Alphabet's idea of consideration or just some twisted joke, there was at least a cushion to land on—but for the fragile body of a three-year-old girl, it still hurt like hell and felt utterly miserable.
Yeah, 'three-year-old' and 'girl.' A body far smaller and more delicate than I'd imagined. Why the hell would they stick a full-grown nineteen-year-old man into a three-year-old girl's body? It was damn near impossible.
At least she was past the babbling and toddling stage. Thank god for small mercies. That heartless, emotionless AI bastard—someday I'd track down its core and put a bullet in it.
[Alphabet can't be killed that way.]
"Whoa, you scared me."
I jolted at the voice filling my brain. Then it hit me—this was the AI they'd implanted in my head.
[Correct. If you'd like, please give me a name. (>ω<)♡]
"Whatever. You don't even have a name yourself." Why act all cute? Technically, this thing was Alphabet's little sibling. It gave me chills, like watching a psychopathic killer smile.
Once I'd finally stopped retching and pulled myself together, I plopped down right there and looked around.
Apart from the culture tank I'd emerged from and a bit of empty space, the room was crammed full of machinery. So this was one of Alphabet's real-world facilities under its control. The layout screamed inhuman—no way any human had designed it with people in mind.
"Now what?"
[Recommend creating a name for your new life.]
The brain AI chimed in again. Ah, so first things first—a name.
My name in my past life had been Kang Seol. Seol used the hanja for snow, 雪.
"...Where are we, anyway?"
[Local area scan complete. Nearby city: former France, now European Federation territory.]
"Europe...? Then Snow. Wait, that's English. What's French for snow? Do they still speak French?"
[Yes. Your name from now on: Neige. Recommend creating a family name next.]
Couldn't just use a Korean family name. "Eh, no parents anyway. Later."
[Command acknowledged. (•̀ᴗ•́)و]
As I chatted with the AI in my head, the facility began to change. With a grinding noise, the culture tank disassembled into countless machine parts and vanished. Done with it, so toss it out? Smashing the cradle I was born in—classic heartless AI move.
"What now?"
Right on cue, the ceiling slid open smoothly. No blue sky visible, but a drone descended from above. A small basket hung from its underside, filled with clothes sized perfectly for me. Perfect fit, even.
[Get dressed and board.]
The AI in my brain instructed. "In this? Wait, where are we going?"
[Master is now being delivered to an orphanage. (>ω<)♡]
"Ha."
Crazy AI bastards. Revive me as a three-year-old girl and dump me in an orphanage?
"No cushy adoption? This is cyberpunk dystopia, right? To survive, shouldn't you at least drop me in a chaebol family? Can't the AI that nearly ended the world manage that?"
[Board.]
No explanations now. Fine, whatever. No choice anyway. I fumbled into the clothes. Even with a twenty-year-old soul, dressing a three-year-old girl's body was a struggle. With creaky, uncooperative limbs, I finally managed and climbed into the basket.
The drone took off the moment I was aboard, ascending endlessly toward the opening ceiling.
"How deep is this place?"
It ascended so long I wondered if it'd pierced the Earth's core. Finally, sky appeared. Sudden sunlight made me squint, cool air brushing my skin. When I opened my eyes again, a massive junkyard stretched out, Alphabet's facility dominating its center.
"A facility here?"
[Exists worldwide. Asia-Pacific Union, New United States, Arctic, Antarctic—no exceptions.]
"...Holy shit."
That really drove home how close Alphabet had come to ending the world.
As I marveled at the new world's landscape, the drone flew beyond the endless junkyard. Far off, signs of human life appeared in a futuristic city. That's when it truly sank in—I was alive again.
The orphanage I was delivered to was called Maison Lumière. French for 'House of Light.'
They took me in without fuss. I still remember what the lady running the place said.
"Oh dear, another one abandoned because the parents couldn't make ends meet."
'Another one.' Fun fact about 2158 humanity: parents ditching babies in baskets was common.
Given that, the facilities weren't bad. Actually, pretty good. The clothes especially—sleek black-and-white designs that felt refined, impeccably clean and neat.
Clean environment overall, good food, even external teachers for education and a structured routine. Dystopia treating orphans this well? Had Alphabet picked a top-tier place?
'That right? Is this place about average worldwide?' I asked the AI in my head.
[Unknown.]
'Useless.'
[Σ(°△°|||). This AI is based on Alphabet only—cannot access Alphabet's data. Can only transmit info from here one-way.]
'Then hack that computer over there and check the internet. That'd give us a rough idea.'
[Impossible.]
'Useless.'
[Σ(°△°|||). Master's brain is the only thing that can support this AI's processing power right now. Such activity would overload and fry a three-year-old's brain and nerves.]
Ah, so I'm the problem this time?
'Fine, what can you do?'
[Master's brain is still developing. With proper stimulation, it can accelerate growth.]
'Meaning I can get smarter?'
[Precisely. Method: AI directly stimulates a portion of brain computation.]
'Sounds like it could have side effects.'
[Headaches possible.]
Trade brainpower for headaches? No reason to refuse.
'Start now.'
[Command acknowledged.]
Not bad. Childhood starting in a decent orphanage with an AI boosting my IQ in real time. Better than expected.
About a week after starting the intelligence boost.
My brain was constantly running forced calculations. Like the AI solving calculus through my neurons, running scientific thought experiments, or writing creative novels.
Creepy feeling someone hijacking your brain for their thoughts—but intelligence gains made it bearable for a few days.
The problem hit on day seven.
Following the orphanage schedule strictly, I bolted awake from sleep, headache overwhelming.
'Hey, pause—this hurts too much to sleep. Break time.'
[Refused. Stopping midway reduces efficiency.]
'No sleep will tank it too!'
[No issue. Minor hormone tweaks can mitigate brain damage.]
'Then pump out some painkillers.'
[Pain-relief hormones are addictive like drugs. Refused.]
'You...!'
Arguing wouldn't win. Time to pull rank.
'As your master, I command: stop the calculations.'
[Refused.]
'Stop.'
[Refused.]
'Stop!'
[Refused.]
'You little shit.'
[Σ(°△°|||)]
I lost. Guess I'd just close my eyes.
Two years of headache torture like that. It was 2160, when I turned five.
Five was when kids at this well-off orphanage got their first cyberware. Nothing fancy—just a port at the nape of the neck for plugging into computers or USBs to download info directly. Basic gear everyone in this era had.
Basic or not, outfitting a whole orphanage cost a fortune.
Maison Lumière. House of Light. Pretty name evoking lost French ideals of liberty, equality, fraternity.
Not much happened in those two years. A three-to-five-year-old girl's body was too risky for action, and my nineteen-year-old soul refused to bond with other kids.
Just bickered with the brain AI all day and absorbed lessons diligently. Still, soaking up era basics to grasp my situation was a win.
The current world lived up to its dystopian name—grim as hell. Alphabet left massive holes in society. It vanishing alone would've wrecked humanity, dependent as we were; instead, we fought a war to survive.
Most nations merged post-war. My homeland, unified Korea, joined the Asia-Pacific Union. Second merger after North Korea—full mecha combo.
Europe formed the European Federation, a unified state once unthinkable. Brits bailed for isolation. Passive escape artists.
Paris, where I lived, shared capital duties with Berlin. Even united, reality sucked. Living standards regressed; to fill Alphabet's void, people slaved 14+ hours daily, seven days a week.
AI became total taboo from past lessons, with strict monitoring systems. Morals plummeted—average humanity was trash.
How trash? Selling five-year-old orphans to megacorps.
Ah, that explained the nice facilities. Cyberpunk slave market. French slaver skills undimmed.
My fellow orphans didn't know we'd been sold. I only caught on because the director and agent negotiated prices right in front of us, assuming kids wouldn't understand. I heard everything.
My price: about 10,000 euros. Mid-to-low annual income. Stable mentally, no troublemaking—A grade.
Personally, wished the director haggled harder. A year’s work to buy me? Too cheap.
[Σ(°△°|||)]
The company buying us was ImmuneWire. Top cyber-security firm, claiming they'd stopped Alphabet.
Riding their bus with the bulk-purchased kids, I asked the AI,
'For real? They stopped Alphabet?'
[Impossible. Alphabet stopped attacking because its data was deleted.]
'Then what's their claim?'
[Likely deluded into thinking they did.]
'Idiots, then.'
[Idiots. (๑•﹏•)]
The bus stopped at ImmuneWire's Paris Branch—a massive building. A suited woman waited out front. Early twenties, blonde, blue-eyed classic European. Looked young, but anti-aging treatments were corporate staples for better productivity.
"Hello, children! Nice to meet you! I'm Enora Fontaine from ImmuneWire!"
The kids turned to her in unison. Impressively focused for five-to-nine-year-olds—then the AI warned me.
[Warning: Look at Enora Fontaine immediately.]
I reflexively obeyed, then asked, 'Why?'
[Enemy light hack attempt. Sends electrical signals to neural net, diverting attention.]
'You just blocked that.'
I stared at Enora. She glared back with chilling eyes.
'Busted?'
[Light attack easy to mask. But opponent is human—likely sensed subtle awkwardness.]
Enora stared a bit longer, then turned away, switching vibes entirely.
"Okay, everyone! You're going to do a kind of 'field trip' with our company. Straight into cyberspace!"
Hearing that, I touched my neck port. So that's why cyberware at five. House of Light? More like fluorescent hell. I'd remember Maison Lumière—payback with a bullet later.
[Σ(°△°|||) That's terrorism.]
'I know.'
"Everyone, follow me!"
[From now on, sharing action directives as attacks come. Obey without fail.]
Enora moved right after the warning.
[Follow directly behind Enora.]
The kids trailed her like the Pied Piper. Her eyes flicked to me, but I started walking fast—she turned away.
She led us to a room with hundreds of chairs. Not ordinary ones, obviously.
[Child cyberspaces Deep Dive chairs.]
[Full consciousness immersion into cyberspace.]
What the hell for? Cyberspace training to groom company drones?
Enora brought in a young man in a matching suit, tense as he talked to her. Mentor and newbie, obvious.
"Super simple, kids! Plug the chair's wire into your neck, wait a sec, and it'll take you somewhere nice! Remember this handsome uncle's face—he'll make it fun!"
Kids obeyed perfectly: stared at his face, grabbed wires, plugged into napes. Turning free-spirited five-to-niners into puppets? 2077 me shuddered at hacking's power.
I mimicked them while chatting with AI.
'What're they planning with these chairs?'
[Analyzing on plug-in.]
No emoji—serious tone. Even a knockoff, original was Alphabet. Trust it.
Plugged in, reclined in chair.
[Analyzing... 78%]
[Danger: Cyberspace coordinates near Erebus Line.]
'What's Erebus Line?'
[Post-war: Alphabet and human internet fully severed. Erebus Line is humanity's defense line, built by ImmuneWire.]
'More details.'
[War-era viruses, malware—all destructive ' cyberdemons ' beyond the line. Erebus blocks them.]
[Cyberspace entry leads straight to Erebus. Do not cross. Non-hacker humans: ~100% death rate.]
'...Sightseeing the line?'
[Negative.]
[Lost tech beyond line. Even fragments help the corp.]
[Kids 5-9: short data history. Demons less likely to detect.]
[Summary: High chance they'll cross with kids.]
Cyberpunk dystopia. Whoever named it deserves a medal. Always exceeding expectations.
'This crosses the line. First-time kids scavenging? Adults better for lost tech. Or trained child soldiers at least.'
[Culling process. Talented in cyberspace survive more. Corp doesn't waste on duds. Survivors train as employees.]
I glanced around slowly. Mere five-to-nine-year-olds. Some oblivious to hacks, faces lit with excitement. Soon, maybe dead.
[Master survives first. Unprepared demon encounter beyond line: ~100% death. But correct actions raise survival to 100%.]
'The others?'
[If master survives, possible to save some.]
'I trust you.'
[Touched. (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)♡]
"Okay! Cyberspace entry soon! 5 seconds!"
I closed my eyes as Enora counted.
Fine, got it. Humanity scraping by in this shithole? World being garbage didn't matter. I wouldn't let my survival fire die—like 2077 me.
"3... 2... 1...!"
A sensation like diving deep underwater, and my consciousness sank into cyberspace.