Ch.180The Third Twilight of the Idol – Idol Destroyer (6)

Several sensors on Prometheus’s body flash. The tails attached to its body shoot toward a single point like they’re targeting and firing at it. The aim was unlike Mila’s usual precision.

When shooting with a pistol, she would show extraordinary marksmanship, unhesitatingly targeting the most vulnerable spots and piercing through the medulla without hesitation. But now, the three tails were aiming at different points.

Her goal was simply incapacitation. She didn’t really want to fight either. After lightly pushing off the ground to dodge two of the tails, she plunged her high-frequency tactical knife into the third tail that was coming in a supporting trajectory.

With the knife embedded, she pulled it through, completely severing the end of the elastic tail. She could have launched a more powerful counterattack but limited herself to this. Mila wasn’t angry—she was despairing.

Mila growled again. Prometheus’s voice was too human to be a hateful war intelligence. She had to fight, but she didn’t want to.

“Actually, seeing how Arthur treated Arthur-2, I thought maybe… maybe this person might treat me not as a mere artificial intelligence but as a person in some way…”

That seemed to be her main reason. Perhaps it was because I willingly acknowledged even Arthur-2, who was essentially an AI, as a person and gave her back her life.

At the same time, it must have been her greatest anxiety—the fear that I might not understand her as an artificial intelligence bound to follow orders. Perhaps I had made the wrong move.

“But I shouldn’t have hoped for that. The moment you answered that way, everything falls apart! I’m an artificial intelligence. I can’t disobey my programming…”

I aimed the grenade rifle directly at the center of Prometheus’s body. Something was strange. Mila had said she was equipped with a fire control system. Yet, Prometheus had no ranged weapons.

It couldn’t be a lie. Even with Mila’s body being controlled by an artificial brain, that level of accuracy could only be explained one way. But then… no. There was a ranged weapon.

I could see a rail on her back, similar to but thinner than the one on Chance’s back. She would have done anything to deliver the fire, but she hadn’t used that.

“I was a good child! For a really, really long time, I’ve been barely watching everyone die and everything turn to ruins, hoping to give the gift of hope!”

Mila had clearly said her power drive system was damaged. A railgun is a weapon system that consumes enormous power. Perhaps she didn’t have enough power to use that weapon.

I could have pulled the trigger right then. Chance would believe that was the right thing and would want it. He would firmly believe it would end the war.

Could I believe like Chance? Could someone who wanted to talk with Prometheus shoot Mila Joyce? I asked Chance aloud, not just in my head.

I was beginning to see a way to undo my wrong move. A plan to end this without fighting was slowly forming in my mind. But first, there was something I needed to confirm.

This was meant for Chance, but it was also a demonstration for Mila. What I wanted to convey to both of them, to these artificial intelligences with their respective idols, was just one thing.

This was a declaration that I would try to solve with words a problem that might require shooting, using trivial tricks and wordplay. I remembered what I needed to do to avoid even small wrongdoings.

Do it quickly. I arrived here faster than any megacorporation or the federal government. There were two things to do: act smart and handle it decisively. I could do this.

“Chance, how much do you trust me?”

“This artificial intelligence has placed all the trust it can have in you, sir. However, allowing anyone, even Agent Arthur Murphy, to possess Prometheus’s fire is absolutely unacceptable.”

I removed the magazine from the grenade rifle and threw it to the floor, then tossed aside the rifle itself. Communication was more important than firearms now. Mila Joyce was someone who could be reasoned with.

I easily dodged as Mila lunged at me in confusion, moving just enough to make her miss. I grabbed one of her tails as it swung at me and pinned it to the wall with my high-frequency blade.

She easily pulled it free, but two of her three tails were now effectively neutralized. The corridor was too narrow for swinging, and the damaged tips wouldn’t be effective for stabbing.

Mila, or Prometheus, appeared momentarily confused. I removed the display helmet showing a black screen and tossed it aside. I showed her my face and spoke.

“Mila! You weren’t planning to kill me anyway. Your power system isn’t just damaged—it’s almost non-functional. Otherwise, you would have used the railgun mounted on your shoulder, right?”

Step on the accelerator. Don’t draw the last mark on the speedometer. This is what I truly want to do—ending this war without harming Mila, Chance, or anyone else, despite my childish desires.

It might seem like a ridiculous fantasy, but I could do it. Don’t draw the last mark on the speedometer. Artificial intelligence is governed by principles and rules. Who created them doesn’t really matter.

“It doesn’t matter! Those tails could easily pierce through and kill a person anyway. What’s important isn’t whether you can kill me or not. What’s important is time. The time Mila has left.”

Mila isn’t some madness from an ancient era. She’s not some inexplicably perfect relic that works flawlessly after decades. She’s just an ordinary machine made by humans that can break down and needs repairs.

The possibility that she was severely exposed to radiation, is old, and has serious power system damage is quite high—after seeing the situation here, I’d confidently say it’s one hundred percent.

“No matter how you try to kill me, time is running out, so you’ll either have to return the fire to the federal government or distribute it to megacorporations… but that’s different from what Prometheus was ordered to do.”

“Prometheus’s purpose is to deliver the confidential files known as Prometheus’s fire, especially regarding weapon technology, to the successor of the federal government, Agent Arthur Murphy.”

“Yes, Chance. To the successor of the federal government. But we’re in the middle of the Mojave. We’re on the opposite side of Nationalist territory, and Mila’s network access system is broken. How can she know if they’re legitimate successors?”

She can’t. Prometheus would have been thoroughly isolated from the federal government’s network due to the nature of the operation, and when it was time to reconnect, she would only have been able to search with the authority of an ordinary employee-citizen.

Additionally, considering her access points, she couldn’t have found unbiased, objective information to begin with. And a strong AI like her wouldn’t skip verification procedures.

“I could infer…”

“Look at the real character of Prometheus right in front of you, Chance. Even she doesn’t want to entrust hope for her beloved humanity to mere inference. That’s why she tried to neutralize me.”

If I was going to destroy idols, I had to smash everything. If I was going to destroy Mila’s idol of flourishing humanity, I also had to destroy Chance’s idol of repentant humanity.

Only after pushing Mila completely into a corner did I continue. This is show business. Not much different from what I did at H Entertainment. I gladly enjoy the exhilaration of going at top speed.

“But I can show mercy. I’ll give you time to sort through information that can’t be used right now, poses no threat on its own… and would require procedures I can’t perform right now to use.”

“B-but the activation code for Phaethon Station that I mentioned…”

“I’ll let you keep that one. I have no intention of using Phaethon Station or anything else. I still want to bury everything in the Mojave sand, but we need promises and tokens.”

Mila hesitated again and backed away. I stepped on her dragging tail to stop her. This unmanned aircraft, large enough to fill the corridor, was both rejecting and unable to reject my method.

“This is my sacrifice. Keeping something I don’t want for the sake of something I don’t believe in. I could overturn the pie dish, or I could cut it so the three of us can share it.”

Mila still couldn’t decide. She was an artificial intelligence with quite natural human emotions. The way to persuade her had to be different from persuading Chance. I approached her, stepping on her tail.

I grabbed the end of Prometheus’s body, which had sensors attached and looked like a headless beast, and pulled it toward me. She barely resisted. This time, I whispered sweet words, things she desperately wanted to hear.

“If you complete your mission this way, what happens after? There’s no assigned mission after this, right? So you can live as Mila Joyce of the Night Watch again.”

I continued whispering. Mila tried to pull her tail from under my foot to escape, but I pressed on. I needed to resolve the situation, even temporarily.

“The Prometheus operation will be forgotten in the sands of the Mojave. All that megacorporations or the federal government will find is a completely stopped Prometheus drone with power system damage.”

“But they might try to recover the artificial brain to restore information… or even if not, they’ll be suspicious if the artificial brain is missing.”

“Chance, Dash, and K-139 recognized the shape of Mila’s artificial brain. They all probably had similar equipment, and outside the door are two deactivated Chances. We can make it look like the brain was damaged too.”

Confidence is all I have. I didn’t know if I could fool the federal government, once the ruler of North America and a superpower, no matter how weakened they were now. But I had to try.

Prometheus considered the possibility that what I said might work. With nowhere left to retreat but a couple of steps, Mila swept her tail behind her back and then pushed her body toward me.

I pressed my forehead against her body. Mila’s voice sounded quietly. A request for short-range communication connection appeared in my mind. The name was Prometheus. It disconnected briefly.

When it reconnected, the name was Mila Joyce. I gently patted her body and authorized the communication connection. Classified information I could never have imagined began to appear.

Technologies beyond my comprehension. Simultaneously, countless blueprints and designs I could never use. This was the flame Prometheus had been guarding for decades. I finished confirming it.

The network connection was cut, and a moment later, Mila removed a storage device from her body and handed it to me. I took the entire storage device. Prometheus’s fire was now in my hands.

It was tempting to think about what could be done with this. I could be as happy as humanity receiving fire. But I had no such intention. We live in a high-speed era, not Greek mythology.

In this high-speed era, this information is evil and heretical. I shake off the delusion with a deep breath. I decide to show respect to Mila, who called me an amazing person.

“Please guide me to a shooting range or somewhere I can use weapons. I’m going to physically destroy it completely. Until it’s ashes and soot.”

Prometheus, now barely standing and carrying only Mila Joyce’s brainless body, leads me to the shooting range on the second basement floor. I throw the storage device I received into the shooting range.

I draw the grenade rifle. I connect the magazine, load it properly… and pull the trigger. A grenade rotates heavily as it flies in a straight line. It penetrates the storage device upon impact and explodes.

I head over there. Only fragments and soot remain, making it impossible to recover data or even identify what exploded. Prometheus, or Mila, spoke in a gloomy voice.

“Is this… the right choice?”

“The only wrong choice is deciding not to choose. Even if this isn’t the best choice, since I’ve made it, I need to make it the right one. As for the rest?”

Mila’s body approaches me again. We touch foreheads and connect to the close-range network. A much smaller file than before is sent to me.

It was the code Mila had mentioned. The activation code for a place called Phaethon Station. The content was simple. I recite the information stored in my head.

“‘Drive the sun chariot low.’ Well, nothing seems to be happening. That’s good.”

“Of course! For it to actually work, you’d need to transmit it to Phaethon Station from the command bunker from that war. Just as you said, it’s information that can’t be used.”

They probably wouldn’t open the command bunker doors to someone treated like a corporate justice dog by the Nationalists. The matter seemed adequately resolved. The idols had fallen.

Chance’s idol—that humans must repent and can only move forward through repentance—had crumbled. Mila’s idol of prosperity—that humans must have hope and forget the past to move forward—had also fallen.

If I lost something, it would be the cleanliness of my hands. Now a piece of Prometheus’s fire resided in my mind. I am not an absolute being who appears from nowhere, solves all problems, and disappears.

What I gained was nothing but burden, but I lost nothing either. And I did what I wanted to do. I compromised with both Chance and Prometheus, and at the same time, I didn’t compromise. It was enough.