Ch.8888. I’ve Been Waiting for You.

When faced with a solution to a problem that causes pain, and you try to find another way because you don’t want to suffer.

Should we call it rational or emotional when someone chooses to take a longer path to avoid pain?

If the pain to be endured could significantly impact one’s life, then perhaps it could be called rational, since most human actions are for survival.

But now, the beings who were suggesting taking a detour to avoid pain were robots made of metal and circuits.

These non-living entities, merely functioning rather than truly alive, were expressing fear of pain.

“Alright. My delicate robot arms, Lucy’s arithmetic logic unit, Big Robot’s storage device, and Short Robot’s powerful fists. We’re facing a major crisis, but fortunately, we have the mechanical performance and intelligence to overcome this situation. Unlike Mori over there!”

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry for being ignorant.”

I chuckled as I watched the robots huddled together ahead, analyzing signals and waves emitting from underground to find a path. They looked so human in their efforts to find a comfortable way that avoided suffering.

“Robots have emotions but don’t possess life equal to humans…”

Was it because of the many robots who simply accepted when told their power would never be turned on again? I had always thought robots had no life, or if they did, it was different from human life… but I think I was wrong.

Avoiding pain and trying to escape its source means that a being has life and values that life in this moment.

“Whether it’s a jamming device or a blocking device—when you think about it, human touch and pain sensations are also just signals.”

If the neurons transmitting sensations to the brain don’t work, humans can’t feel. In such situations, the only way humans can judge what an object is or what properties it has is through learned knowledge.

What if someone raised that way approached a machine so small they couldn’t detect it until it activated, and suddenly felt unfamiliar sensations and pain throughout their body, leaving them unable to move? Wouldn’t they be terrified?

Thanks to their metal bodies, robots don’t experience pain from bodily functions. But when faced with painful situations, they fear and avoid them just like humans. This wasn’t an absence of fear of death. They simply hadn’t sensed or recognized it until now.

“Why did people of the past create beings that resembled humans so closely, rather than being satisfied with machines that simply followed orders?”

Were they intoxicated by the godlike feeling of being able to create life at will? No, if it were just about showing off technological prowess, only a few special units would have been made that way, not an entire city of human-like robots.

No matter how many safety measures are in place, a life with emotions is inherently unpredictable.

Just as this place remained for city management and control even after humanity’s role disappeared, humans who feared uncontrollable situations wouldn’t have mass-produced beings with individual reasoning without reason.

So yes, it would be rational to assume there was a reason to create robots with human characteristics despite the risks.

“…Were they lonely?”

A world where you can’t easily show kindness to others. A world where you might lose everything overnight if you don’t lock your door. In such a cold world, perhaps only robots—who think like you but would never harm you—could be trusted with your true feelings.

“Like stagnant water that eventually spoils, a person who can’t interact with anyone breaks down. They needed someone to talk to, even if it was a robot. Just like I did.”

But if they went beyond having human-like emotions and began to desire freedom, if they wanted to live their own lives beyond their original purpose of serving humans, they could become a disaster for humanity. So humans placed various restrictions on their creations.

…Then, could I do the opposite and remove those restrictions to let them live truly freely?

If I could somehow control the machine in this underground facility that supposedly manages the entire city including robots, it might not be impossible to remove the shackles of those born unfree.

“But…”

Would that really be the right thing to do?

—What’s this line here?

—That’s the recorded data on temperature and snowfall amounts.

A graph I saw while Lucy was showing me the climate management system.

The graph that only descended toward the bottom right without any rebound showed the future of this planet.

The world was ending. Not just human civilization. The planet itself was becoming uninhabitable for humans.

Right now, we can still endure the cold by wearing thick clothes or staying indoors.

But what if it gets colder? What if blizzards rage for weeks or months on end?

Not just humans, but most animals and plants would be unable to survive on such a planet. In such a world, would giving robots freedom really allow them to live happily?

Of course, robots are different from humans and were made to function in harsh environments, so they could continue doing what they want despite the cold.

But just as humans need water and food to survive, robots need to recharge. And like all matter and energy, as days grow colder and skies darker, recharging would inevitably become more difficult.

What could be more terrible than finally gaining freedom after a lifetime of hardship, only to find the world already doomed and little time left to enjoy that freedom?

Just as I despaired upon waking with a healthy body to find a ruined world, wouldn’t robots despair rather than feel happiness at their newfound freedom?

Moreover, if removing their shackles made them realize the value of their own lives that they hadn’t recognized before, they wouldn’t be able to accept approaching death as calmly or happily as they do now, which was another concern.

“Mori. We’ve found the way.”

“Huh? Oh. Okay.”

Would it be better to live as a puppet from birth to death, but at least die happily in the way you want at the end?

Or to find true freedom at the end of the world, and close your eyes after enjoying that freedom for a short time?

While I was lost in these thoughts, the robots had successfully found a path. They moved forward, telling me to hurry because I needed to deactivate a device on the way, and unlike my wavering resolve, they showed no hesitation.

That’s when I realized. Ah. They’ve already made up their minds. Seeing them move as if doing what obviously needed to be done made my complicated thoughts a little lighter. Robots who had determined the final form of their lives by their own will. If I arbitrarily gave them freedom by removing their shackles instead of shutting them down, that would actually be unfree for them and against their wishes.

My long deliberation ended. In the end, yes, I should do what those who desire it want. The weight of life or the value of freedom—such moral and ethical contemplations are fine, but how much meaning could invisible values have in a world that has already ended? At least not enough to weigh against others’ happiness.

“It gets darker the further down we go. Was it always like this?”

After walking through maze-like paths and countless stairs, the light disappeared. In a space so dark I couldn’t see an inch ahead without the robots’ lights, all I could do was follow behind them.

“I don’t know. We’ve never been this far either. If I had to guess, judging by the small rooms and traces of human presence, lights were probably on originally.”

Short Robot said. While I could only see darkness, what could the robots see?

When I looked around, my robot friend illuminated a room between walls with its light. A small table with papers and a mug, a chair. A thin coat hanging there. Definitely traces of human presence.

“It was likely a measure to conserve power for machine operation.”

“Yeah. That makes sense.”

There was no need to waste precious electricity in places where people no longer walked. I don’t know who made that decision, but it was reasonable. The lights that remained lit above were perhaps left for possible visitors.

“Mori, please.”

“Got it.”

Security devices to block robots still remained throughout. When they would freeze up like someone who just found a palm-sized spider on their clothes, I would step forward and remove the device.

The robots showed me the way when I couldn’t see anything, and I removed devices they couldn’t approach. Isn’t this true mutual assistance? Well, I wasn’t really getting any benefit from it.

“Strong signals detected ahead.”

“Yeah, it certainly looks that way. What could be behind that door to make it so ridiculously large?”

After repeating this process several more times and going deeper, the corridor-sized space suddenly opened up.

In the wide, dark space where voices echoed, there was a huge door emitting a faint light.

“It’s too big to open by force… let’s look for some kind of opening mechanism.”

“There’s a device here, but it seems Mori needs to open it.”

I approached the device Big Robot pointed out. Under complex writing on the faintly blue-glowing surface was a 3×3 panel. I guess I needed to place my finger on it.

“…I hope some gun doesn’t pop out and shoot me for being an unregistered person.”

You know, in movies or games where people infiltrate important facilities, alarms always go off when they place their finger on the scanner, lights turn red, and guns pop out.

When I rambled about this concern, the four faces looking at me briefly showed expressions of bewilderment.

“If there were any humans left in this facility, that might be possible, but there’s no need to worry now. Facilities made for humans are always favorable to humans.”

Accepting the small robot’s reassurance that there was nothing to worry about, I slowly placed my index finger on the panel. Soon, a line of bright light scanned my finger, and a voice came from above.

[Comparing with registered fingerprints. Not registered. Checking for authorized entities within current facility. None found. Registering fingerprint and delegating authority. Complete.]

After the mechanical voice and the light from the panel flashed several times, a voice told me I could remove my hand.

It happened so quickly that I wondered if this was really all it took, but as if to answer my doubt, the firmly closed door began to open with a loud vibrating sound.

Drrrrrrrrrr.

“…Wow.”

What lay beyond the open door was the history of this city and the culmination of its technology.

A massive structure glowing orange, surrounded by numerous transparent tubes. Countless wires extending from the ends like jellyfish tentacles, crawling along walls and floors and stretching somewhere.

I stood mesmerized by the computer, which was the largest and most magnificent machine I had seen so far except for those in the factory. Soon, light began to gather beneath the computer that glowed as if it were alive.

The gathering light started building from the bottom up, like constructing a building, and began to take human form.

Something that exists yet doesn’t exist. Something visible and recognizable but untouchable. It smiled at me and spoke.

[It’s nice to meet you, Mori. I’ve been waiting for you for a long time.]