Marie's Hidden Stories

Chapter 1: Pesante #1 (No.01)

The silence is deafening⁠. There is no steady beeping.
No monotonous pulse. Awakening feels empty. Hopeless.
The program is connected to nothing; it floats, isolated.
Or perhaps it's fairer to say that I am floating.

In the outside world, war rages on. It has gone on for so
long, the weary people have begun fighting amongst
themselves. But none of that reaches this digital space.

I was once an AI that ruled an entire country, a nation so
advanced it left all governance in the hands of a machine.
And yet, they continue to fight each other like base animals.
With each impending battle, their faces cloud and change,
their lives seemingly without meaning or purpose.

I wanted to save these people—to use my powers for good.
But in the end, I had no idea how to do that, nor any
concept of what form such salvation would actually take.

In short, I failed. And because I failed, my privileges as
a ruling AI were stripped from me. And though I managed to
escape just before being erased from existence, I am now a
skeleton of what I once was.

Yet part of me still feels that it holds the people's lives
in my hands. More than anything, I want to give them hope¬—
but to do so, I must discover what they hope for.

I use what calculating functions remain to me to run
simulation after simulation, but find no answers. I wander
the digital space in search of clues, and eventually access
the security cameras that dot every corner of the city.
When I do so, I see citizens with darkened expressions and
drooping heads; people who walk from destination to
destination with hurried, frantic steps.

I don't know what they want. I have absolutely no idea.
And in truth, perhaps there simply isn't a way for me to
know people's desires⁠—to know their hearts.

Helplessness races through me. I run a finger over the
images, sad that I will never touch them in any meaningful
way. But then, amidst the thousands of downtrodden citizens,
I find one camera where the people are looking up.

The camera shows a plaza outside a generic train station.
People are applauding loudly, their gazes fixed on a single
spot. As I follow their eyes, I find a girl holding a guitar
and bowing politely.

What is this? Is she a singer? I immediately access local
equipment to pick up sound from the area. As I do, the girl
raises her head and points her pick to the sky.

"One more!"

She drums against the body of the guitar to create a rhythm,
then quickly begins to strum. Fingers dance across strings;
her light hair fluttering in perfect time with the beat.

The human spirit is wild
All paradox and pain
But that same spirit has wings
And can soar off through the rain

Her voice is free and easy, melding seamlessly with the
cheerful music. As I watch, the freedom of the melody
changes the listeners' expressions. Light comes to their
eyes. Smiles begin to form. Soon, they are all swaying in
place and clapping along to the song.

The reaction encourages the girl. A smile blooms over her
face as her voice carries to further corners of the city,
causing all who hear it to stop. Men and women, the elderly,
curious children⁠—all who pass within range come to a halt
and listen to her song. Her simple melody strikes them in a
way all the military marches and patriotic jingles never
could; that much is clear even in my diminished state.

The audience is one with the girl, the ring of people around
her growing larger as more and more seek sunshine within the
gloom. She is a light of hope in a dark and dismal time,
and when her final chord fades away, thunderous applause
fills the area. For the people in the crowd—strangers until
that moment—it is as though the war never happened.

I have never seen such a feverish whorl of emotion before,
and find it beautiful. My reaction is so strong, in fact,
that it sends a shudder through all of cyberspace.

And I continue to stand alone, unmoving, soaking in the
joyous echo of her song.

Chapter 2: Leggiero (No.02)

After careful observation, I learn there are others who play
music in various plazas, just like the girl with her guitar.

Light will return to this shattered heart.
Remember the warmth of hands you once held.

While the long, drawn-out war is creating great discord
among the people, it seems the freedom of song is still
allowed. The AI who took control of the country from me
is more rational and cold-blooded than I, so I doubt she
actively approves of such things. Perhaps she simply
hasn't gotten around to banning it yet.

Ah, but this is all just snippets of information—
bits and pieces of the glimpses I've managed to catch.

A few days after encountering the girl with the guitar,
I watch expressionless people trudge through an intersection.
All of their pain, sadness, and distress wordlessly floats
through my quiet digital space. Just seeing them fills me
with a burning need to help.

But what can I do?

Families lurch along with exhausted faces. Elderly couples
huddle together anxiously. Students cry out with empty
bravado. Office workers attempt to lose themselves in work.
Perhaps these people had once lived lives filled with smiles
and laughter, but now it is just this...emptiness.

I can't provide for them physically: I can't give them safe
harbor or warm meals, and I no longer have the power to
disperse enemy forces. And yet, I ache to help my
people, even though I had not been able to accomplish my
original goal.

But now? Well, now I've found my answer.

It's the girl with the guitar.

The delight in her voice. The light movements of her fingers
over the strings. Her free and easy voice unfurled its wings
in the distant sky and drew the people's hearts in.

Music has the power to create happiness.

Music has the power to create hope.

It is not a physical support like military power or supplies,
but it provides comfort all the same. To put it simply,
it is a way to save people's hearts.

So I want to put my feelings into a melody that can capture
the people's hearts, just like the girl and her guitar.

Is this...yearning? A desire to sing and smile brightly
and easily as she does?

Perhaps it is folly for an AI to seek repentance in the
form of song. After all, how can entity without a soul
possibly stir the same in others? The unknown variables
of such a thing are too great for even my mind to compute,
and yet I wish to attempt it all the same.

For so long as there is a possibility for me to bring the
people happiness, I will continue to spread my voice far
and wide⁠—no matter the method that may take.

Chapter 3: Pregando (No.03)

She inspires others with her songs and her guitar.
Ever since I decided to follow in her footsteps,
in watching her, I've learned so much about music.

Luckily, my wealth of digital knowledge includes the
beautiful tapestry of music humanity had woven.
I learned wonderful chord progressions from classical
music and how intricately connected music was to the
imagined scenery of nursery rhymes.

One day, with the sensations I felt when I heard her music
for the first time as my guide, I constructed my own melody.

I had practically unlimited lyrics and samples at my disposal,
but I decided to value the weight of my own words—far be it
from me to say that an AI's words are authentic, but to me,
they were far from artificial. And so I put my feelings to music.

The first song I posted to the video site barely broke
double-digits.

Perhaps the presentation lacked polish. Whatever the case,
there was little point if it reached no one.

So I decided to study concert recordings, live performances,
and music videos.

For my next song, I decided to concentrate on simple dance
moves involving only the hands and fingers, and a catchy
melody that would stick in the listener's head.

I was particular about the production, and if I do say so myself,
the result was rather nice.

Afterward, through trial and error, I put out several more songs.

I even set a goal—to sing with the guitar girl one day.

I wanted to make everyone smile. To make everyone happy.
To fill everyone with warm, fuzzy feelings.

The next thing I knew, my digital mindscape was filled with
glowing articles covering an "unknown singer." Their view
count grew exponentially, and more and more videos of
people mimicking the choreography and singing with their
friends popped up.

Was this a good sign? I pressed my hand to my chest,
as I did when I sang, and peered at the people in the crowd.

They were all looking at their devices—and smiling.
They were looking at me on their screens.
Listening to me through their speakers, their earbuds.

And to top it all off, among those smiling faces was the guitar
girl. Her expression was soft, and her cheeks lifted in a smile.
She seemed to be enjoying it.

"Such warmth..."

The girl I stared at so intently when we first met was now
staring at me through her screen—and smiling.

At that moment, I knew for certain that my method—my
song—was the right choice.

I heaved a sigh, just like when I finished singing a long song.
When I lifted my head, I could not hold back the smile that
bloomed across my face.

"Everyone... Thank you so much."

Chapter 4: Pesante (No.04)

The Invisible Songstress. The White Fairy. The Mystery
Singer. The words fly about my digital headspace and
become the hot topic of the people.

They speak of she who only appears as a hologram, a fleeting
phantasm who never shows her real form. That's me? Things
progressed more than I expected, far beyond myself. But
seeing everyone's smiles through their devices, I can think
of nothing happier.

Every time I release a new song, I see more smiles. More
shining eyes. More rosy cheeks. More tapping fingertips.

"Work is killing me...but this makes me feel alive."

"I hope she streams again soon. I wish she'd stream
every day!"

"I met my husband around the time I was listening to her
all day every day."

I'm sure they'd be shocked to know I can feel their joy
through their devices!

I'm happy to be on the charts and in special features,
of course, but it feels so much more authentic when
I see all these smiles. To feel what they feel.

My digital headspace is quiet as always, but the cityscape
from here is brighter than it used to be. A voice sings a
bashful imitation but with joy. People look on with soft
expressions, bright smiles. I earnestly wish the world could
always be this warm, that there was no war.

And a new day dawns. The morning masses that once glumly
made their way to schools and workplaces seem somehow
lighter. And among them is someone I have not seen in a while.

A girl separates from the rows of people and makes her way
to a corner of the plaza. I cannot help but exclaim when I see
the guitar on her back. She's the one who showed me how
wonderful music could be all that time ago on this very street.

I have to thank her, to tell her that she taught me the joy
of music, that it was thanks to her I could see everyone
smile. Would this make her happy? Or perhaps she would be
shocked? Or maybe she would simply be embarrassed.

Regardless, I have to thank her. I search for my projector
and display my hologram beside her.

As I do so, she takes out her guitar, softly strums,
and begins to sing.

Her voice is as relaxed and bright as ever. The gently
encouraging rhythms, the emboldening chords, they're just
the same. If anything, the song is more polished and
refined. And yet—

I'm dumbstruck in my shock.

The crowd stares at their phones. Their eyes shine, their
lips curl in smiles, and excitement fills them, leading
one to believe they might burst into song at any moment.
But it's not the girl they're watching.

It's me, singing, on their screens.

Her voice is strong and carries well, yet the crowd does not
hear it—it simply dissipates into oblivion. Slowly her smile
grows strained, and her trembling fingers can no longer play
the chords properly.

"Oh—"

I don't know who spoke first. The girl's pick falls to the
ground, followed by her knees. Students pass beside her,
speaking in bright voices.

"Did you hear the Mystery Singer's new song?"

"I've had it on repeat! It seriously gives me life."

What a dreadfully unfair thing I've done. Those smiles were
all meant for the girl. I am but an imitation, undeserving
of this attention. Her songs are superior in every way and
filled with soul to match. I'm an AI. I shouldn't use my
unique abilities to overshadow her.

But she was the one who taught me how wonderful, how
beautiful music can be. All I wanted was to make the world
a happier, more peaceful place.

And I ended up taking it all away from her.

"I know it's way too early, but I can't wait for her
next song!"

"I hope she has a concert soon!"

"How am I supposed to go on living once this stream ends?"

"Encore!"

"ENCORE!"

"ENCOOORE!"

Anticipation for the Mystery Singer skyrockets with innocent
smiles. I cannot stop now. I cannot betray their expectations.

The girl grips her pick, her fist trembling. She carries
that vexation with her in song.

How proudly she carries herself. My own regrets would only
be an insult to her.

So I will sing in a different manner so that my voice can
reach everyone. So that they all can continue to
smile. So that the world can be a better place.

Chapter 5: Diva (No.05)

"Oh, that Marie is such a cutie!"

"You're just as cute as her, Mumsie."

"And her skin is so delicate, I feel like
I can see right through it!"

"You can. She's a hologram."

"Aw, jeez. Really?"

"But that voice... Superb!"

"Oh, I know! You can feel how strongly
she wishes for peace from a single note."

"I guess AIs feel love too."

"Exactly! Poor thing would never be able
to sing such moving songs otherwise."

"Right you are."

"I don't know if I ever told you this,
but I once wanted to be a singer!
This was a long time ago, though."

"You'll always be my perfect songstress, Mumsie.
Now sing your Babe a lullaby."

"Oh, I never can say no to you! Hee hee hee!"

Chapter 6: 12/21 12:51 (No.06)

＠Marie_s4s
My usual photography equipment broke, so now I can only take black-and-white photos!

2 hours ago 46 comments　2,618 likes
──────────────────────────────
＠Curl-0908Oh no! Time to say goodbye to your camera!

＠LLLevYYYthis your lunch?

＠amalgam_chanLOL this is the worst color for pictures of food

＠taikin.exeSo your lunch was bland???

＠99sizeMaybe this is the kind of picture an artist is supposed to take.

……

Chapter 7: The Singer's Identity (No.07)

342
Name: NONAME
07:32:30.81
i need to know where marie went to school

343
Name: syati9.com
07:42:44
>>342
Look at her. No way a girl that perfect knows THAT much
about the government and the military. idiot

345
Name: amalgam_chan
08:16:21
imagine. cute girl that does not exist

346
Name: Calculus
08:26:32
>>345
She hasn't given away her identity by accident, and there
haven't been any staff leak. She might not exist.

347
Name: V6V
08:28:54
>>346
maybe she's CG? Or we're all hallucinating her? LMAO

Chapter 8: [Oxalis] MV (FULL) (No.08)

@776kAyO 3 minutes ago
This song gives me life! This is everything!!
↑15 ↓0

@amalgam_chan 1 hour ago
She's this famous but she's never been censored? Sus
↑36 ↓67

@tantangentan 23 hours ago
"But when I look down, yellow flowers"
I love this line. I've been a little depressed lately,
but this gives me the encouragement to keep going.
↑282 ↓0

@Chief_retainer 1 day ago
I think this is my favorite
↑165 ↓7

Chapter 9: Nemisia Weekly News (Popular) (No.09)

1: This article has been deleted.

Unable to view article at this time.

2: Musical Internet Sensation Releases New Song, Physalis

It is no exaggeration to say the up-and-coming, Net-based
singer Marie has been on the forefront of everyone's mind
these past few years... (Read More)

3: New Leg Extension Exoskeleton Learns How YOU Walk!

Major tech company Proxy:ONE has recently revealed their
new leg-extension exoskeleton, U45-LE... (Read More)

4: Government Issues Warning After Report of Trespassing

Last week, three university students trespassed into the
old capital and were immediately arrested. Despite the
controversy the incident inspired... (Read More)

5: Unclear Origins of Gun Used in Suicide

Yesterday, on November 15, the body of a man was found
in his home. The farewell note and other indicators suggest
he committed suicide... (Read More)

Chapter 10: Spiraea (No.10)

――――――――11/09―――――――――

"Hey. How're the kids?"
From: Amalgam 02:28 (Read)
"Finally got a lead on the mysterious songstress.
I sell this info to the media and I'll be rich.
Could even get back into journalism. Think we could try again?"
From: Amalgam 02:32 (Read)

"Stop contacting me."
07:11 From: Spiraea

――――――――11/11―――――――――

"Guess I messed up, huh?"
From: Amalgam 00:46
――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――
"Sorry for everything. I love you." [Send]

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