“Oh, I see,” she said in English again, pulling off her large Ray-Bans. The guard squinted, as though her shining golden hair and fair skin were just slightly blinding.
“Confirmation complete. Go ahead.”
Rinko exhaled and turned to Nakanishi to note, “Your security’s pretty tight for being in the middle of the ocean.”
“Well, at least you don’t have to submit to any body checks. Of course, we already ran you through metal and explosive detectors three times,” he replied, removing a small ID card from his suit pocket and inserting it in a slot next to the door. Then, he pressed his thumb to a sensor panel. A second later, the door slid open, granting them access to the core of the Ocean Turtle.
Past the thick door, the hallway was even cooler, lit with orange lights and faintly humming with machinery. She followed Nakanishi down the hall for quite a while, feeling conscious of the loud echo of her footsteps. It was hard to remember that they were actually inside a ship floating out at sea. Eventually he stopped at a particular door.
The plate on the door said FIRST CONTROL ROOM.
She had finally come to the place where Akihiko Kayaba’s final estate rested. Rinko held her breath and watched the SDF officer as he performed another security check.
Would this be the end point of the long two-year wandering that had frozen her spirit?
Or was it just the start of a new one?
The door slid aside, revealing only a portentous darkness. Rinko couldn’t move. The void did not reject her or welcome her. It just waited for her answer.
“…Doctor.”
Her assistant’s voice brought her back to her senses. Nakanishi was already several steps into the blackness and looking back at her expectantly. Upon closer examination, the control room was not completely dark; there were blinking orange markers on the floor and dim white lights toward the back.
Rinko took a deep breath, summoned her courage, and took a step forward. Her assistant followed her, and the door closed behind them.
They followed the floor markers through the rows of massive network devices and servers. When they finally made it through the valley of machines, Rinko gasped.
“…Huh…?!”
The sound escaped her throat unbidden. The wall before them was a huge window—and she could not believe what she saw on the other side.
It was a town…a city. But clearly no city in Japan. The buildings were all made of chalky white stone and had strange rounded roofs. They were nearly all two stories or more, and yet they looked like miniatures due to the mammoth trees towering over them.
Crowds of people walked over paths of the same white stone, connected to countless stairways and arches through the trees, yet they were obviously not citizens of the modern age.
There were no men in suits or girls wearing miniskirts. They were dressed like something out of the Middle Ages—loose one-piece dresses, leather vests, and long tunics that nearly touched the ground. Hair colors ran the spectrum from blond to brown to black, and the facial features were not clearly identifiable as either Eastern or Western.
Where were they? Had they somehow moved from inside the research ship to some subterranean world? Rinko glanced around the scene and noticed that far beyond the expanse of city was a brilliant white tower looming in the distance, surrounded by four smaller sub-towers. The top of the main tower went right off the boundary of the window into the blue sky beyond it.
She took a few steps forward, trying to see if she could glimpse the tip of the tower, and finally realized that she wasn’t looking at a window but footage on a massive monitor wall. Then the lights in the ceiling turned on and banished the darkness for good.
“Welcome to the Ocean Turtle.”
Rinko turned her head to the right, in the direction of the voice.
Just in front of the nearly movie-theater-size monitor was a console setup with a few keyboards and sub-monitors. There were two men standing there.
The one sitting in the chair was typing away with his back to them. But the other man resting his back against the side of the console met Rinko’s glance and smiled, his glasses glinting.
It was a friendly but opaque smile, one she had seen several times before. That was Lieutenant Colonel Seijirou Kikuoka. But…
“…Why are you dressed like that?” She scowled. It probably wasn’t the best way to address someone for the first time in two years. While Nakanishi saluted in his crisp, perfect uniform, Lieutenant Colonel Kikuoka wore a yukata of fine Kurume fabric tied with an elegant obi, with bare feet in wooden geta sandals.
“If you’ll excuse me,” Nakanishi said, saluting Rinko. He headed back through the machines, and when the door shut, Kikuoka leaned back on the console again and drawled, “You can’t blame me. I’ve been here on the ocean for a month now; I can’t wear my uniform all the time.”
He spread his hands and beamed again. “Dr. Koujiro, Miss Reynolds, thank you for making the long trip. I’m so pleased you could visit us here at Rath. It was worth all the persistent invitations.”
“Well, I’m here now, so I might as well accept your hospitality. Though I can’t guarantee I’ll be any help,” Rinko said, and bowed. Her assistant did the same. Kikuoka raised an eyebrow, and his gaze briefly lingered on that stunning blond hair before the smile returned.
“And you are the final member of the trio I considered indispensable to this project. Now I have all three in the belly of this turtle at last.”
“Ah, I see…I should have known one of those three would be you, Higa,” Rinko said to the other man, who was still facing away. He stopped typing and swiveled in his chair toward them.
Next to Kikuoka’s slender height, he looked tiny. He had bleached hair fashioned into little spikes and simple round glasses. His clothes were just what she remembered from college: faded T-shirt, cropped jeans, and worn-out sneakers.
Takeru Higa gave her a shy smile that suited his baby face. He opened his mouth and spoke the first words they’d exchanged in five or six years: “Well, of course it’s me. I’m the last student of Shigemura Lab, so I’ve got to carry on our legacy.”
“Well…I see you haven’t changed a bit.”
In the Shigemura research lab at Touto Technical University’s electrical engineering department, Higa had tended to get lost in the shadows of the two giants, Akihiko Kayaba and Nobuyuki Sugou, yet here he was, intimately involved with a massive, top-secret government project. Rinko reached out for a light handshake, impressed at how far he’d come.
“…And? Who’s the third person?” she asked, turning to Kikuoka again. The officer gave her one of his inscrutable smiles and shook his head.
“I’m afraid I can’t introduce you quite yet. Maybe we’ll have the opportunity in the days ahead…”
“Then why don’t I say the name for you, Mr. Kikuoka?”
That came not from Rinko but from her “assistant,” who had been lying low in her shadow all this time.
“What—?!” Kikuoka said, stunned. Rinko savored his shock and took a step back to give the girl the floor.
The assistant strode forward, ripped off the blond wig and the oversize sunglasses, and stared right into Kikuoka with hazel-brown eyes.
“Where did you hide Kirito?”
The lieutenant colonel probably had little experience with the sensation of shock. His mouth opened and closed several times to no avail, until at last he managed to squeak, “But…we did a multiple-pass verification of the assistant’s photo from the Caltech student database…”
“You certainly did. We were even getting tired of you staring at our faces,” said Asuna “the Flash” Yuuki, standing boldly inside the depths of the Ocean Turtle at last, under the guise of Rinko’s college TA, Mayumi Reynolds. “The problem is, we made sure to switch my own photo into the school’s database before applying to visit. We happen to know someone very skilled at getting around firewalls.”
“For the record, the real Mayumi’s getting her tan on in San
Diego,” Rinko added happily. “Do you see why I suddenly decided to finally accept your invitation, Mr. Kikuoka?”
“Yes…I see very clearly now,” Kikuoka muttered, pressing his temples. Suddenly Higa burst into chuckles.
“See? What’d I tell you, Kiku? That kid’s the biggest security hole in this whole operation.”
Four days earlier, on July 1st, Rinko’s private e-mail had received a message from one Asuna Yuuki. The contents of the message were a huge shock to her system, which was numb from a life spent traveling between her home and the school campus.
Before Rinko had left Japan, she had provided tech to the Ministry of Health for the Medicuboid full-dive device. Asuna told her that this device now formed the basis for a monstrous new machine called a Soul Translator being developed by a mysterious agency called Rath.
The likely goal for this soul-accessing machine was to create the world’s first true bottom-up AI. This Kazuto Kirigaya boy who was assisting with tests had been abducted from the hospital in a coma and taken, most likely, to this brand-new Ocean Turtle marine research vessel. And the main suspect in the case was the government agent Seijirou Kikuoka, who had been deeply involved in VR going back to the SAO Incident. All in all, the message was extremely hard to take at face value.
“I found your e-mail address from the address book on Kirito’s PC. You’re the only person who could possibly take me to him and to Rath. Please, please help me.”
That was how the message ended.
Despite her shock, Rinko had sensed that Asuna Yuuki’s words were true. Three times over the past year, she had received invitations to participate in the development of a next-generation brain-machine interface from one Ground Lieutenant Colonel Kikuoka.
Rinko had raised her eyes from her monitor and to the night view of Pasadena outside the window of her condo. She had recalled the face of young Kirigaya, who came to visit her once before she left Japan.
He had explained to her the illegal human experimentation that Nobuyuki Sugou was attempting and, at the very end, hesitated. Then he had told her about his conversation with the ghost of Akihiko Kayaba in the VR world, and how that ghost had, for whatever reason, given him a shrunken-down version of the Cardinal system.
Thinking back on it now, the high-density, high-output brain-pulse scanner that Akihiko Kayaba had used to end his own life was the basis for the Medicuboid, and now, the Soul Translator. It was all connected, and nothing was over. So was it simply fate that she had gotten this message from Asuna Yuuki now?
Overnight, Rinko had made up her mind and replied to Asuna to accept her request.
She had to smirk. It had been a dangerous gamble, but it was worth crossing the Pacific to see that startled look on Seijirou Kikuoka’s face. Ever since the SAO Incident, he had been lurking around, seemingly controlling all events to his benefit, and she’d finally gotten one over on him. Still, it was too early to relax.
“So, now that we’re here, why don’t you give up and confess what you’re doing, Mr. Kikuoka? Why is an SDF officer using a dead-end minor division in the Ministry of Internal Affairs as cover to get involved with the VR business? What are you plotting in the belly of this giant turtle? And…why did you abduct Kirigaya?” Rinko asked.
He shook his head and let out a long sigh, but his smile was as inscrutable as ever.
“First, I want to make sure there are no misunderstandings here…Yes, I’m sorry that we used rather forceful methods to bring Kirito into Rath. But that was because I wanted to save him.”
“…What do you mean?” Asuna asked suspiciously, looking like she’d have her hand on the hilt of her sword if it were there.
“I found out that the escapee from the Death Gun case had attacked Kirito and put him into a coma the very day it happened. I also learned that his brain was damaged by a lack of oxygen, and that contemporary medicine would be unable to heal him.”
Asuna blanched. “Unable…to heal him…?”
“Parts of the nerve cells that make up a major network of the brain were destroyed. No doctor could tell you when he would wake, no matter how long he stayed in the hospital. He could sleep there forever…Please don’t look so upset, Asuna. Didn’t I just say ‘contemporary’ medicine?” Kikuoka said. He looked more serious than he had at any point so far. “But if there’s one technology that can actually heal Kirito’s damage, it’s here with Rath. As you already know, it’s the STL: the Soul Translator. It cannot repair dead brain cells, but if the STL stimulates the fluctlight directly, it’s possible to augment the rebuilding of that brain network. It just takes time.”
His powerful forearm extending from the yukata sleeve gestured toward the ceiling.
“Kirito’s currently inside the full-spec STL installed above the Main Shaft here. The limited version of the device in our Roppongi office couldn’t handle the finer procedures, so he needed to come here. When his treatment ended and he regained consciousness, we were planning to send him back to Tokyo with a full explanation to you and his family.”
Asuna swayed on the spot; Rinko had to reach out to steady her.
She’d used an incredible amount of insight and willpower to find and make her way to the boy she loved, and now it was like all the tension had just snapped and drained out of her. A large tear dripped from one eye, but she bravely wiped it away and steadied herself.
“So Kirito’s all right? He’s going to recover?”
“You have my word. His medical needs are being treated at a level equal to any major hospital. He even has a resident nurse.”
Asuna fixed him with an intense stare, trying to seek out Kikuoka’s true intentions. After several seconds, she finally bobbed her head and said, “All right…I’ll believe you for now.”
Kikuoka’s shoulders slouched a bit with relief. Rinko stepped toward him and asked, “But why is Kirigaya needed for the development of the STL? Why does a top-secret project hidden way out at sea need a teenage boy?”
Kikuoka glanced at Higa, then shrugged. “If I tried to explain that, it would be a very long story.”
“Well, it’s a good thing we’ve got plenty of time, then.”
“…If you want to hear the whole story, you’ll have to assist with the project, Dr. Koujiro.”
“I’ll decide that once I’ve heard you out.”
The officer looked at her balefully, then resigned himself and rustled around in his yukata until he found a small tube. To her surprise, it was just an ordinary bottle of that cheap Ramune soda candy. He popped a few into his mouth and offered it to the women. “Want some?”
“…No, thank you.”
“You sure? They’re pretty good. Anyway…may I assume that you both understand the general principle of the STL?”
Asuna nodded. “It’s a machine that reads the human soul, or ‘fluctlight,’ and sends it into a virtual world that is completely indistinguishable from reality.”
“Good. And what is the purpose of this project?”
“To create a bottom-up AI…A highly adaptive artificial intelligence.”
Higa whistled in surprise. There was admiration behind the round lenses of his glasses, as well as disbelief. “That’s incredible. I don’t think even Kirito was aware of that part. How did you manage to look that up?”
Asuna gave Higa a searching look and answered roughly, “Based on what Kirito said. He said the words Artificial Labile Intelligence…”
“Ah, gotcha. Maybe you should look into the security procedures at the Roppongi office, Kiku,” he said, grinning.
Kikuoka grimaced and shrugged. “I was prepared for the possibility that some information would leak out through Kirito. I would have thought you’d realize he was indispensable enough for us to take that risk…Anyway, where were we? Ah yes, the Artificial Labile Intelligence.”
He flipped one more little candy into the air with his thumb, caught it in his mouth, then took on the air of a literature professor.
“For many, many years, the creation
of a bottom-up AI structured in the same way as our own human mind was considered a pipe dream. We didn’t even know how the human mind is constructed. But based on the data Dr. Koujiro brought us and the design of Higa’s incredibly powerful Soul Translator, we have succeeded in capturing the quantum field we call the fluctlight—the human soul. At that point, we assumed that we had essentially succeeded at creating a bottom-up AI. Do you know why?”
“Because if you can read the human soul, you can make a copy…Is that it?” Rinko whispered, feeling a thrill of horror run down her back. “But you’d still have the problem of the medium on which to save the copied soul…”
“Yes, precisely. The quantum gates used in traditional quantum computing research don’t have nearly enough space. So at great investment cost, we developed the Light Quantum Gate Crystal…or ‘lightcube’ for short. Inside this praseodymium crystallization, just two inches to a side, there are about ten billion cubits of storage—enough to correspond to the human brain. In other words…we have already succeeded at replicating the human soul.”
“…”
Rinko shoved her hands into her jeans pockets to distract herself from the sensation of her fingertips going cold. Next to her, Asuna’s cheeks were losing their color.
“…Then…isn’t the project a success? Why did you need to get me here?” she asked, putting force into her words to hide her fear. Kikuoka shared another look with Higa and let a powerless smirk tug at the ends of his mouth.
“Yes, we succeeded at replicating souls. But foolishly, we failed to realize that there is an unfathomably deep chasm between a human copy and true artificial intelligence. Higa…show her.”
“Aww, please no. I get so bummed out when I have to do this,” Higa protested sourly, but he gave in and reluctantly started tapping at the console.
Abruptly, the image of the strange, exotic city on the mega-screen went black.
“All right, here we go. Loading copy model HG-001.”