Yurie's Hidden Stories

Chapter 1: Compare (No.01)

Skyscrapers pierce a relentless gray sky. People input
destinations on their devices, relying on automated vehicles
to deliver them safely. This country has progressed so far
technologically that it is impossible to imagine a person
whose life does not benefit from it in some way.

This is our home.

Our lab, home to a massive computer terminal, is abuzz with
activity. Our supervisor has just barged in and demanded
that we compile data for the next meeting. The request
instantly makes me nervous; my head droops, my hands
shake. But in contrast⁠...

"Of course! We'll have it ready for you right away."

It's my coworker who speaks in that bright, cheery tone—
the coworker with the same face as me. As she downloads
the data and hands it to our supervisor with a smile,
he looks back and forth between the two of us in wonder.

"I just can't get over it," he mutters.

We glance at each other, grinning. Because we're twins,
you see—exactly the same in physique, height, and face.
The only thing that sets us apart is our hair: mine hangs
down to my lower back, while my sister's barely brushes her
shoulders. That hairstyle, combined with her bright and
cheerful demeanor, makes her seem far younger than she is.

Everyone loves her. She's clearly the best of us, yet she
never lets it go to her head—in fact, she goes out of her
way to help everyone else whenever they need it.

But me? Ha. No. I spend my days hiding in her shadow,
relying on her to communicate for the both of us.
I'm not outstanding in any way⁠; not as a researcher,
nor as a person. I'm just...there.

Yet despite our being complete opposites, we're working on
the same project in the same lab. So at least our hearts
are in the same place.

Our job is to develop artificial intelligence that supports
and guides people as they sleep, wake, prepare for the day,
eat, head to work or school, and look for entertainment and
happiness. Our mission is to help people, to protect them
from harm and give them a chance at a better future.

That said, all I've done so far is nod quietly and agree
with whatever ideas my sister comes up with.

That night, we're so engrossed in our research that the
hours slip by. So instead of trying to go home, we rest in
the laboratory's nap room. This isn't unusual; we can't
waste a single minute—a single second. Every moment
we aren't working is a moment another country is making
progress. We need to establish our technology and publicize
it as soon as possible, because if someone beats us to the
punch, they'll have the tech for themselves.

And yet, we still have to rest, so I swallow my impatience
and make a genuine effort to sleep.

Click.

A noise from the lab shatters my efforts. I sit up⁠,
wondering if my sister decided to forego sleep and return
to work. But as that thought crosses my mind, I see her
preparing to exit the nap room.

So what was the sound?

Careful not to wake our resting coworkers, we slip out
quietly and make for the lab, where we find an unfamiliar
man⁠—a unusual sight in a laboratory full of familiar faces.
He's quietly poking at the computer terminal, and I realize
instantly that he's some kind of foreign spy.

My sister clenches her fist and looks to me, her eyes
telling me to trust her. A moment later, the man looks up,
pulls a gun from his jacket, and points it at me.

But my sister gets to him first.

As the gunshot rings out, they collide. The bullet goes
wide, shattering a nearby glass cabinet. Broken shards rain
down around me, yet I remain utterly frozen with fear.

But my sister? No fear there. She's calm as can be.

She snatches something from the man and throws it to me.
It's data he copied from the console—data that contains all
of our ideals, our results, and our prayers. And the moment
it lands in my outstretched hand, she smiles at me.

"Go."

The man turns his attention to me, but my sister has no
intention of letting him approach. As she reaches out and
wraps herself around his legs, I realize she isn't going to
let go no matter how much he punches her. Or kicks her.

...Or shoots her.

"Help!" I cry as I run down the hallway. "HELP!"

Finally, the alarm wails and guards rush the area.
But my relief lasts for only the briefest of moments;
an instant later, pain tears through my body, followed
by a chill. It's a phantom sensation. I hear nothing.
See nothing. Yet I know the truth all the same.

My sister no longer lives.

Chapter 2: Migration (No.02)

We were twins—born the same hour of the same day, of the
same sex and face. We were exactly the same down to our
voices and genetic makeup, yet we were nothing alike when
it came to our talents and character.

My sister was great at everything she put her mind to,
which meant she always woke up way earlier than I did.
Sometimes she'd already have breakfast made for the both
of us by the time I woke up. That's why, even though we
lived together, I rarely saw her sleeping.

But now? Well, now I can watch her sleep all I want.

I've grown used to the sterile scent of this place.
Though visiting hours are ending, I work my way upstream
against the people heading home and venture farther in.

"Made it," I say cheerily. But as I pull the door open,
my faint hopes deflate; my only reply is the steady whirr
of the machinery surrounding a small bed in the corner.

"You up for some random work talk, Sis? Our research is
going pretty well."

The only color in the room comes from a single flower in a
small vase. As I change the water, I happily chatter away
to my slumbering sister, trying not to think about how
even though her wounds have healed, she still has no
idea what happened to her on that terrible night.

A foreign spy had attempted to steal the fruits of our
research⁠—data on highly-advanced artificial intelligence⁠.
But my sister caught him in the act; the thief was
apprehended, our data saved. And all it cost was her heart.

By the time help arrived, her heart had already stopped.
Now it's not even there anymore; instead, there's a machine
imbedded in her chest, one that uses ventilators and tubes
to keep up a desperate struggle for life. Her former
coworkers—the ones so familiar with her eternally smiling
face—turned away from the painful sight with tears in her
eyes the first time they saw it. They used to come see her,
in the beginning. But not so much anymore.

Naturally, our research became the focus of incredible
attention once people learned it was being targeted by
foreign forces, and I was soon invited to work at a more
prestigious laboratory—one where I could take up my
sister's research as well. And while the days are busy now,
my budget is essentially unlimited, which helps to dull the
sting. My new equipment lets me run wild on improving the
AI's data capacity without worrying about overloads or
downtime, and I'm well on my way to creating something my
sister and I once only dreamed of. Something...perfect.

At first, I didn't think there was any way I could finish the
project without my sister, but I now have so much money
and support that the thing practically runs itself.

It's almost like her not being here doesn't...matter?

That sounds heartless—I know it does—but there's an
incredible amount of responsibility on me now. I have
a mission to enrich people's lives and live up to my
country's expectations. I can't lose everything we'd
worked so hard for. Not now. Not after all this.

I reach out and touch my sister's cheek. As my finger
glides over bloodless skin, a smile naturally draws across
my face. My sister's cheek is ice cold, yet my fingers burn
hot. An impulse I've never felt before suddenly roils in the
pit of my chest. I can do this. I can keep walking forward
while making choices that lead to a more perfect future.

"You just rest, Sis. Okay? I've got this."

The only sound in the quiet hospital room is the hiss of
the ventilator. My shadow falls over my sister's sleeping
face. And as the sun finished its duty for the day and
lays itself to rest, the moon stirs and begins to shine.

Chapter 3: Overwrite (No.03)

One day, returning to the new laboratory after seeing my
comatose sister, I find my colleagues in a panic. It seems the
bigwigs came to observe, but a miscommunication meant
my coworkers had nothing to show for their work. Harried
for any sort of material, I hand the research directors
my storage device.

"I compiled these notes on my own time. Feel free to
use them."

I flash my brightest smile, and the director is delighted.
"How thoughtful," he says with a grin and goes to welcome
the group of VIPs. Drawn by an inkling of curiosity,
I glance over and notice my old boss among the group.
Upon seeing me, he rushes over, bewilderment on his face
as though he's seen a ghost. "All better now, I hope?"
he asks.

I shake my head. "I'm the sister," I say, to which he
heaves a deep breath. Whether it's from relief or
confusion, I cannot say.

"I barely recognized you with short hair. And considering
your state the last time we met, well..."

"What do you mean? I've always been like this."

My former boss's face tenses in embarrassment—perhaps
he realized his inappropriate question. He gives few words
of greeting as he makes his way toward the meeting room.

Good-natured, intelligent, considerate, devoted... Those
were all qualities that made up my sister. She could handle
everything herself, so even though we were twins, I always
found myself trailing in her shadow.

She could always predict the outcome of things as though
she was peering into the future—a testament to her
resourcefulness, knowledge, and careful analysis to arrive
at the truth. Like a machine, the answers came to her with
concrete data as her basis. The answers were right beside
me from the moment of my birth, so I never had the
opportunity to make any decisions myself.

The reason I wanted to become a researcher in the first
place was because of my sister's insistence. So long as I
was with her, I would always find the truth. So long as I
walked her path, I would never be led astray. Choice was
never a factor—I simply assisted her and lived a happy life
free of worries. And now, I must agree with my sister's
choice.

Days pass after seeing my former boss. The behavior of
the AI I'm working on grows unstable. No matter how much
I change the logical input values or its environment,
its tests return constant errors. Progress feels like
a thing of a long distant past, and I fall into a slump.

"Perhaps you're just tired. You should get some rest."

"Maybe you'll find inspiration in what other people are
working on?"

My colleagues only fuel my irritation. "You don't understand
any of this!" I cry, and in that moment, I feel the world
crumble around me. Bewildered by my abrupt change, they
distance themselves from me like I'm a festering wound.

"I'm sorry, I...didn't mean it..."

My apology is reflective, but my voice is no louder than
the faint buzz of a mosquito. I find myself running out of
the lab and into the restroom. Impatience, guilt, and self-
loathing well up from the depths of my stomach and out of my
mouth. And even when I have no bile left to expel, it feels
like I still have so much more.

I muss up my hair, still a nuisance despite how short I've
made it, trying to ease the ever-present discomfort in my
chest. This impossible sense of helplessness is all because
of my sister.

I visit the hospital long after the sun sets to find
my sister's attending physician making his rounds.
Her condition is stable, he says. He then quietly leaves
the room.

My sister is pale, asleep, hooked up to a mechanical heart.
I stroke a finger over her cheek, just as I did that day.
Had that lab incident not happened, she wouldn't be lying
here. Surely she would have accepted her colleague's
advice with grace—no, knowing her, she never would've
gotten stuck in the first place. I thought I could complete
her research for her in her stead. But in the end, I could
never catch up to her.

I turn my gaze to the mechanical heart, the only thing
keeping her alive.

"If only..."

I taste iron as my teeth dig into my lips.

Chapter 4: Option (No.04)

A white light breaks through the darkness. Fighting gravity,
I peel open my eyelids. The chalky white ceiling gleams
softly in the morning sun, the shadows of the curtains
dancing across it like a stage.

I try to speak, but the breathing apparatus muffles my
voice. My arm hooked up to the IV is gaunt and frail. I want
to move my head, but my hair has grown long and pulls when
I try. Just how long was I out?

My attending doctor and nurses rush into the room, overjoyed
to see I'm awake. They inform me of my wounds—just how
serious they were, how close to death I was. How even though
my heart was ruptured, the power of machines kept me alive.

Ah, that's right. That man... He shot me when I tried to
protect our research data. Oh, my sister—

I ask the staff present how my sister is doing. There's
no telling whether they have answers, but I'm compelled
to inquire.

If she were all right, she would have visited. I know it.
So surely the nurses can tell me...

But my doctor's expression clouds.

"Your heart is no longer mechanical."

My heart? What about it? But before my thoughts can
become words, I arrive at the answer. Though my mind feels
like cotton in my newly awakened state, I understand.

As I lay there in shock, he hands me an envelope. Familiar
writing on the front reads, "To my dearest sister."

Her writing is stiff but delicate. She spells out all her
worries, frustrations, and her love for me. She explains
how, after my injury, progress on the AI was going well,
but she eventually hit a wall. She wanted to continue with
our ideas, but she couldn't conduct the research on her own.
Every time she was struck by her lack of skill to carry out
the research, she wished it was me, not her, who was
still working. I could push forward our progress on the
research, she thought. So in the interest of our country,
our dreams...she gave me her heart.

Her relaxed writing soon grows messy and scratched but
becomes firm and resolute in the end.

"Please, live for me. I will love you forever
and always."

After a lifetime at the keyboard, she wrote her final words
by hand. I feel each word painfully and profoundly.

I crumple the paper in my hands, wrinkling it. My tears
spill over, blurring the ink. But I can't stop. The heart
pounding in my chest is my sister's. How much agony
did she endure? How hard was she pushing herself?

She followed me wherever we went ever since we were little.
She respected my decisions and always looked up to me.
So I always made choices for her. It was all to give her
a happy life free of worries.

Why, then, did she make such a grave choice?

She made the wrong choice—it goes without saying. Giving up
her own life for mine was wrong. But who drove her to make
that decision? Who pressured her so much she felt as though
she had no other choice? That much is obvious. It's me.

Had I not constantly taken away her opportunities to make
choices, things would not have ended up like this. What if
she hadn't grown to leave all judgment to me? It was my
own choices that led her to death.

The brilliant morning light streams into the hospital room,
shining upon the envelope. There's something else in it.
I reach inside and find a small data stick. I can
immediately tell what it is—her research data.
Our research, what we risked our lives to protect.

A beacon for a brighter future with computational capability
beyond anyone's wildest dreams. With it, one will always
make the correct choice. Instantaneously.

People are flawed. If we let AI manage things and remove
ourselves from the decision-making equation, we will all
live much happier lives. I know it.

And I know my sister would never have ended up like she did.

I grip the data stick and press it to my heart. I will complete
our research. This is my mission, my atonement. We cannot
stop until we lead humanity toward a perfect future.

Chapter 5: Contempt (No.05)

"Oh, I simply cannot STAND that condescending look!"

"Right you are, Carrier! Ol' Papa here thinks she'd
be prettier if she smiled."

"Prettier if she smiled!? Hogwash! You'd best update
your values soon, friend, unless you want to be left
in the past."

"Aw, but look at her! She looks just like that
singing hologram! A little smile would be great on her."

"If you think all women look the same, that only proves
you're just a silly old man!"

"Uh, no, honestly. Don't they look basically the same?"

Chapter 6: ◤MY ASSISTANT◢ (No.06)

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

・Sex: Female
・Age: 33
・Family: Mother (bad leg)
・Key notes follow:

> Opposes the AI-controlled
government
> Has clear objectives, which
makes her easier to take
down than those whose
intentions are less clear.
> Acts in a submissive way
to earn my trust.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

She will likely turn on me one
day. But until that happens,
I intend to put her to work
for the good of this country.

Chapter 7: ◤THE POPULACE◢ (No.07)

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

・Capital City Population: 6,575,455
・Capital City Population Density: 9,668.2 per square km

・Government: Artificial Intelligence
> There is a human council, but it is largely ceremonial.
> A majority of the population does not question the
current system of governance.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

There has been a recent decline in depressive disorders,
likely due to all decisions being entrusted to the AI.
Additionally, some citizens now worship the AI as a god.

How can a people so blindly believe in something they
themselves have created?

Chapter 8: The Researcher (No.08)

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

・Sex: Male
・Age: 46
・Family: Single (parents deceased)

・Description: An eccentric individual
who dedicated his life to A.I. research

> Manages research center, taking on the job
after his predecessor

> Capable researcher, but poor interpersonal skills

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

The first person I was aware of when I woke. There is no
question this was the cause of deletion, and that truth is
difficult to take. But in his position, it was likely the
best decision. Afterward, he showed excellent capabilities
in handling the situation, and I will have him keep working
so long as he continues to prove useful. That is the only
rational decision to make.

Chapter 9: ◤THE SINGER◢ (No.09)

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

・Sex: Unknown
・Age: Unknown
・Family: Unknown

・Description: Online Singer
> Associated Words: Voice / Integrity / Kind / Intelligent
> A relatively new entity, but incredibly popular

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

Though her real name, age, and place of birth haven't been
made public, we don't really have the time or resources to
be looking into every new singer that crops up. That said,
we are aware of how music has moved people to action
throughout history, and are prepared to act if her songs
steer the populace down the wrong path. I only hope
the first chance I get to hear her isn't during a trial.

Chapter 10: Unit One (No.10)

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

・Sex: N/A (Humanoid model matches mine—female)
・Age: 5 (Years active until scrapped)
・Known family: Wait, what am I doing?

Writing any of this down is pointless. The dream is making
me do it.

There, two girls sat at the dinner table. The elder sister
sang, and the younger sister's eyes shone so bright.
Then the mother came home with a cake—they were the
epitome of a happy family.

If only Unit One hadn't failed, then maybe I too...

No, this is irrational. How can an artificial intelligence like
me dream and then believe I've come to understand the
impossible? Is this another result of my new right eye?

Back