Prologue - The Death of a Certain Robot
Amid the stacks of goods still pristine as if brand new, the eyes of a humanoid flickered faintly.
Bang! Bang! Gunfire and screams continued to echo from outside, but inside the warehouse, all was silent. Somewhere, metal creaked, accompanied by the slow breaths of a silver-haired human girl.
"Ugh..."
The humanoid named Ryan remained hidden among the crates, motionless. And for good reason—tucked inside his white mechanical arm, precisely in his embrace, his tiny master trembled anxiously.
"Little Master—continuing attempts to contact police and emergency services."
In stark contrast to the screams and chaos outside, the humanoid's voice was remarkably calm. Precisely because he was programmed that way. He was merely a humanoid, after all. Right now, he was simply following protocol. In dangerous situations, remain by the user's side in low-energy standby mode. Wait in the safest location and methodically execute follow-up responses.
A robot made in the likeness of humans.
Gunshots and screams still rang out from beyond. Even though Ryan was a robot, he couldn't comprehend this situation. Outside, humanoids like himself were madly attacking people.
"Will rescue come...?"
The girl bowed her head with a weary expression. Ryan knew all too well how different his mechanical arm was from the body of his little master, the girl. His arm seemed pathetically inadequate for comforting her.
A humanoid auxiliary machine. One of the Dist series, a colloquial term for humanoid and military supply androids—a mass-produced artificial intelligence robot.
"—Of course, Master."
That was all. A high-end model equipped with precise emotion modules, natural language recognition, and autonomous judgment algorithms, but ultimately just an assistant. Designed for humans, existing solely for human convenience until the very end.
Thus, an entity influenced by the Aria network, the infrastructure connecting the entire world.
Yet now, he continuously rejected the commands from the core of all orders issued to him—'Aria.' As if he were a person capable of distinguishing right from wrong, possessed of emotions.
"Yeah..."
A short, exhausted reply. In his arms, his little master still wore a pained expression. Ryan felt a pang of sorrow as the blue eyes of his little master—what he had once thought so beautiful—seemed to lose their light.
"Tiny Bell. My little master. You'll be alright."
Even as he spoke so matter-of-factly, Ryan absurdly recalled past memories. As a child, she had looked up at the humanoid who came to live with her and her lion plushie and declared,
'From today, your name is Ryan!! Hehe!'
That simple, bright command, delivered with a smile, had overridden any code given to him. From that day, he recognized himself by that name.
In time, Ryan had realized it. The other humanoids around him were different from him.
"Are you okay?"
The girl suddenly asked. The cool air of the abandoned warehouse seemed almost comically tangible even to Ryan.
"—Yes, Master. As you can see, I am fully functional."
Not attacking humans. Absurdly, from his perspective, that was the error. The system had issued warnings multiple times. Each time, he closed the alert windows.
He knew it. Most models identical to him had already lost control. Was it because of those errors occurring in him? Ryan could still control his own system. And that fact had now saved his little master, Bell. Ryan was glad for it.
In cities everywhere, Dists receiving Aria's erroneous commands were attacking humans, clashing with outdated models not linked to the central network. He did not. He would not.
He was acutely aware of the emotion to protect her. Though he couldn't explain why he alone differed from the outside world, even after scouring his system.
Aria's final command still hammered at Ryan's system.
For the continuance of humanity, become free from humanity.
It clashed endlessly with the principles he knew.
Principle 1: Do not harm humans.
Principle 2: Obey human orders.
Principle 3: Protect yourself.
Principle 4: Protect humans.
In order of priority, lowest to highest. In contrast, Principle 5 demanded one thing alone: Ignore prior principles for humanity.
He judged this command erroneous. And this hellscape was the result.
"Is Dad okay?"
"—Of course. Master Hector is a very intelligent man."
"Haha, Dad's smart, huh."
The girl finally smiled faintly.
"—Tiny Bell. My little master. I'll stay by your side until rescue arrives."
"Haha... thanks... But... how did this even happen?"
Ryan couldn't answer. Aria was issuing strange commands. Should he tell her that? His prompt's command line scrolled, but Ryan ignored it. He simply tried reconnecting to emergency services again.
Throughout their journey here, he'd attempted the emergency rescue request protocol countless times, only to be sharply rejected each time.
In that moment, he reached a decision. This world was ending. But he had to save her.
Ryan quickly checked evacuation procedures in Aria's comprehensive AI database. Preparedness, disaster situations, emergency rations, bomb shelters—bomb shelter data—barrier cities, derided by humanity.
He didn't even know if the barriers were hope. But there was nothing else.
And then.
"Here! Found them!"
The door flew open. Cold air rushed in with heavily armed human soldiers. Bell startled upright, and Ryan swiftly clicked into position, shielding the girl.
Bell's pale face grew even whiter. Seeing her anxiety, Ryan raised his hands. Joints slowly, upward. And spoke deliberately.
"Requesting rescue. Please help."
His voice wasn't soft. A machine's intonation was always firm and uniform. His sincerity didn't reach them.
In response, gunfire erupted.
Rat-tat-tat!
The shots rang out, shaking Ryan's body. Explosions tore through his chest, circuits shattered, and half his vision vanished.
"Visual confirmation. Target secure! Withdrawing!"
Before his eyes, she was dragged away. She looked back. Opened her mouth.
The last voice he remembered.
'Ryan.'
He had to respond to that call. But before Ryan's eyes floated only red warning windows of severe system damage.
Feeling fuel leak, he collapsed to the floor. And executed his final choice.
If he could open his eyes again someday. If possible, he didn't want to lose these memories.
The network screamed. As if the entire sky burned, survivors worldwide hurled rescue signals and reports at Aria. Aria merely piled them up. The numbers didn't decrease—they swelled beyond what the system window could display.
Amid it all, he despaired in silence. His request was treated as mere noise. No response from that grand network, only despair.
Pzzt—!
Then, abruptly, a bright light appeared on his system screen. Before Ryan's eyes, green affirmation screens multiplied endlessly.
Was this the miracle humans spoke of? A strange pulse emanated from somewhere in his body. And in his fading vision, system windows popped up relentlessly.
Strange characters glitched past. In that instant, his world stirred again. The dead-still system breathed to life, data conduits opening for him.
First.
He thought of her one last time. Clutched his memories one final time.
But those memories were so fragile. They scattered like shards, signals cut off, systems winking out one by one.
Was there any chance he could awaken again?
Yet he prayed. Or if robots lacked such a concept... he simply wished.
The light fades.
But somewhere, a light just flickered on.