Chapter 2
A soft, melancholy voice, tinged with an odd sense of loneliness, reverberated through the speakers. There was something almost uncanny about it, as though it belonged more to an artificial intelligence than to a living human being. The words carried a wistful sadness, yet the underlying pain was somehow muted, restrained, almost as if it were forbidden to express true suffering.
Moe:
> "Hello… personnel… Welcome back to the EASRS Foundation… After fifty years… six… six hundred months… eighteen thousand two hundred sixty-three days… hic hic… one million ninety-five thousand one hundred eighty-two hours… Returning… Thank you for liberating me from my solitude…"
Lucy's mind erupted in a storm of excitement, her thoughts ricocheting with a strange, intoxicating thrill. She immediately recognized the value of what she had found: a veritable fortune, if sold on the black market. Her eyes darted around the room, confirming that no human presence had interfered for decades. Only automated robots operated the facility. Rust crept along parts of the walls, and the vending machines, though periodically repaired, gave off a worn, aged groan as their mechanisms moved. She glanced at the floor, noting the dust and grime that suggested no human had set foot here in at least fifty years.
A whisper of excitement escaped her lips.
Lucy:
> "Wait… it has emotions? And it must have been created before 2062, the year the first emotional AI was developed… Maybe even in the 2030s…? My God… a fortune just fell from the sky into my hands…"
Suddenly, a gate slowly slid open. Bathed in the soft morning light streaming through, Lucy saw a girl step forward. Her long white hair cascaded like liquid silk, soft and shimmering, as if woven from clouds. Her eyes, deep crimson like aged wine, glimmered with a timeless intensity. She wore a crisp white blouse beneath a lab coat, round glasses perched atop her head, and a pair of short-haired cat ears twitched delicately as she moved. Her gaze was solemn, tinged with sorrow, but carried a fragile innocence, her porcelain-like skin glowing softly in the dim light.
Moe:
> "I am Moe… an AI created by Dr. Alice, tasked with waiting for anyone who returns to this facility… and to revive the organization."
Moe stepped closer, bowing her head, her gloved hands slipping into the pocket of her lab coat. From within, she drew out a syringe filled with anesthetic. With a fluid, precise motion, her eyes hardened, and she drove it into Lucy's neck with an eerie, mechanical efficiency. Pain and surprise shot through Lucy as she instinctively recalled the law: AIs were not allowed to harm humans until 2046, yet this AI had clearly been produced before then. Her body trembled, recoiling as she weakly attempted to pull the syringe free, making only faint, choking noises.
As her vision blurred and her limbs stiffened, Moe gently clapped her hands. A medical-assist robot rolled forward on its tracks, lifting Lucy with precise care. She felt herself becoming aware of pain in a way that was simultaneously unbearable and numbing. Her arms and legs no longer obeyed, and the cold metallic walls seemed to close in, suffused with a chilling, oppressive atmosphere.
Moe guided Lucy down an endless corridor, lined with surgical rooms filled with heart transplants, sedatives, and medical apparatus. The LED lights flickered with a cold blue hue, casting the hallway in a ghostly, cinematic glow, reminiscent of a horror film. Each step suffocated Lucy, her breath catching as blood began to flow, making the air thick and heavy.
Finally, they arrived at a surgical chamber. Moe opened the door and placed Lucy on the table. Slowly, she drew a scalpel, slicing through Lucy's clothing to reveal pale, pristine skin, lightly dampened, tinged with streaks of blood. She marked precise incisions with a surgical pen, speaking softly, as though compelled by duty rather than choice.
Moe:
> "I am sorry… the organization must survive."
Dressing in surgical attire with gloves and a mask, Moe prepared her instruments. Another grotesque creature was wheeled in—a mass of crimson tissue, multiple eyes and limbs writhing, exuding slime. It screeched in inhuman agony, yet Moe remained impassive. Drawing a syringe marked "Y," she administered it to both the creature and Lucy, murmuring softly, though with a hint of exhaustion:
Moe:
> "At least… this will allow you to survive the organ transplant…"
The surgery began. Moe's scalpel sliced through Lucy's skin, blood spilling freely. Pain surged through her body, helpless and raw, as she writhed and struggled in futility. The silicone hand of Moe probed deeper, exposing Lucy's heart, pulsing violently as it fought to maintain life. Moe used an electric saw to sever her ribs, while Lucy felt the excruciating impact reverberate through her body.
As her heart was removed, the suffocating agony escalated. Moe carefully replaced it with the creature's beating heart, using a laser device to seal vessels and fuse tissue, the scent of searing flesh filling the room. Organs—liver, kidney, spleen, and bone marrow—were replaced in turn. Blood flooded the surgical chamber as Lucy's vision blurred, tears mingling with the metallic scent of her own body.
Three months later… June 22, 2086.
Lucy awoke, finding herself restrained in a surgical bed. Monitors tracked her heartbeat, brainwaves, and vital signs. Though the machines were archaic by modern standards, they still functioned, observing her every movement. She felt slightly smaller, almost childlike. She freed herself from the restraints and stood, alone in the empty ward. Her reflection in a mirror revealed a delicate, fragile figure—her long white hair now cascading to her ankles, streaked with hints of blue and purple. One eye remained the galaxy-like violet and white, the other amber like tiger's eye. She wore a standard mental patient uniform.
Suddenly, the door to the ward creaked open…
[To be continued]