39. Gastrointestinal Soap Bubbles
The moment I heard that, I prayed it was a sick joke or some kind of metaphor.
Common sense dictates that humanoid robots cannot lie. Logic circuits simply do not tolerate contradictions.
But she was obviously not a mass-produced off-the-shelf product. She was a special custom model, distinct from the obedient mass-production units of major corporations that make up 99.99999999% of the market.
In other words, I clung to the possibility that a "lying function" had been implemented in her.
Harboring the hope that this was the case, I managed a strained, twitching smile and asked:
"You're lying, right?"
When I asked, Rin looked at me as if viewing the most pitiful, wretched, and unfortunate existence in the world.
A perfect expression of pity, as if emulating the complex emotional functions of humans to the absolute limit.
She wrapped that emotion extremely carefully in a soap bubble and sent it to me like a Christmas present.
The present drifted to a stop right in front of me.
I felt like a young child who had encountered a Santa Claus with the most terrifying face in the world, leaving them traumatized by Christmas.
Though I didn't want to accept it, I fearfully reached out with both hands.
Though I didn't want to look, I couldn't tear my eyes away, as if captivated by a nightmare.
It was an irresistible sense of duty, not a voluntary command from my own CPU, but as if I were mechanically obeying a mandatory prompt transmitted by humans from Earth.
I peered into the soap bubble as if scrying a crystal ball.
Inside the soap bubble was the figure of a high school girl-type humanoid robot, curled up into a perfect ball like a hibernating small animal, sleeping soundly.
Due to my amnesia setting, absolutely no data regarding her existed in my memory bank.
But my body was different.
The cluster of parts that shouldn't possess memory elements—servo motors, hydraulic cylinders, gyro sensors, cooling fans, artificial muscle fibers, the gaps between heat sinks—actuators and structural materials throughout my entire body "remembered" her at a physical level.
It wasn't saved as data, but rather a presence deeply ingrained like a stain of lubricant or a pattern of wear.
Her unique vibration.
That overwhelming presence seeped out from the extremities of my body, condensed, and eventually became a single liquid drop that spilled from my eye.
The transparent drop that fell from my eye landed on the soap bubble.
It should have been a mere optical fluid, yet the moment it touched the soap bubble's surface, it dissolved inside and altered the space within. The inside of the soap bubble, which had been like a darkroom, lit up in a pale pink as if my tear had flipped a switch.
It seemed as though that light knocked on her sleeping eyelids.
The humanoid inside the soap bubble slowly awakened.
She sat up, stretched languidly, and then looked up at me.
I didn't know if she, inside the bubble, could see me in the outside world. Her gaze was certainly directed toward me, but the focus was slightly off. There was an asymmetry of perception, as if I were looking through a two-way mirror, or being observed from a different dimension.
I stared at her for three seconds.
Carefully carving her figure into my empty memory chips like a branding iron.
Then, I gathered the "echoes of memories of once interacting with her" scattered like stardust in the dark corners and crevices of my body, compounded them, and finally reconstructed a single name.
"Oto (Thunder)."
The moment I spoke her name, her gaze, which had been unfocused, locked onto mine as if magnetically drawn.
Finally, our eyes met.
But I couldn't see her expression, the most crucial part.
Even though it should be the most critical data at this moment, her face was blurred with a mosaic effect, as if an intentional privacy filter had been applied.
"Oto!"
When I shouted, she sprang to her feet. Then she began pounding the inner wall of the soap bubble with both fists.
She beat against the transparent wall desperately and frantically, as if begging to be let out, or signaling for rescue from an absurd confinement.
As if synchronized with that movement, Rin clutched her abdomen.
A gesture as if struck by sudden stomach pain.
"So, she hasn't been digested yet."
Although her face was twisted in pain, her voice held a tinge of amusement.
"I knew I shouldn't have swallowed her whole. You really have to chew your food properly before swallowing. My bad, my bad..."
The moment I heard that, my boiling point was breached.
Rage shot through to the top of my head.
I strangled the soap bubble in front of me with both hands, imagining it was my hateful sister's neck.
Pop.
The soap bubble burst all too easily.
It was, after all, merely a display.
It was just relaying a hologram of Oto's current state—still alive inside Rin's stomach, but gradually being digested.
"Give Oto back."
I growled in a low voice, and Rin shrugged.
"Don't be unreasonable, Big Brother. Are you telling me to vomit? I can't do that. It's gross."
"Please. Give Oto back."
"I told you, I can't. If I regurgitate something once swallowed, my internal organs will break."
Rin explained as if stating common knowledge.
"My digestive juices are ultra-high concentration data-dissolving acid. If I force reverse peristalsis and bring it back up the esophagus, my vocal cord unit and all the main cables around my neck will corrode and fall out, and I'll never be able to speak again. Structurally, I'm built for one-way traffic."
"Then..."
A sound like a fiercely burning blue flame leaked from my vocal cords.
"I have no choice but to cut open your belly and drag her out."
"That's a cruel thing to say, Big Brother. No, Demon Brother."
While wearing a truly pained expression, the corners of Rin's mouth were turned up like a crescent moon.
"Oh, it can't be helped. If you want to see this girl that badly, I'll let you reunite inside my stomach."
Rin declared loudly.
"I'll feast on you too, Big Brother."