Story Reader / Affection / Haicma: Starveil / Story
—Two kilometers away from the conservation area 001 rebuild.
A hole punctures the clouds at the edge of the dull, gray sky, allowing the soft glow of the sun to go through and cast a light on a towering building.
The wind blows past the buildings, gently bashing against the lady's clothes.
She stands in the gap of a broken railing at the edge of a balcony, where the birds of the city claim their domains.
Underneath an eye-catching, old-fashioned floppy hat is a pair of golden pupils staring into the distance.
In theory, she can stand there until the reinforcing bars decay and break as long as the parts that maintain her balance remain functional.
The slender figure built with an amalgamation of metal alloys is more powerful than the strongest body made with flesh and blood.
But why is she standing there?
However you view it, she still looks like a pigeon that is alone and helpless, lost in an intense debate of whether to fall.
Leaving her be does not seem like a good idea, but recalling your last encounter, you figure you should be more cautious in case she thinks you are hostile again.
You open your arms and position them visibly before you, approaching the lady carefully.
Then she sees you, her eyes clear as a peaceful pond like before.
"Get some fresh air on the balcony and take in the scenery." I was simply following the instruction.
Since some of the buildings are blocking the view, I've calculated that this is the best location to do so.
Do you have any suggestions?
...
You think back. You are here on this balcony because you noticed the strayed Construct after you dodged a falling object.
And you almost became the first recorded commandant to be heavily wounded by a fallen railing.
...I was sent here to scout the area. Currently, I'm on my maintenance break.
About the metal railing—
It was occupying the best location to "get some fresh air on the balcony" according to my calculations, so I proceeded to remove it.
She says it casually as if all she has done was putting a book away as she holds down her hair gently to keep the wind from blowing it back.
According to the diaries, getting fresh air on the balcony can relieve stress.
Stressed about the diaries.
She holds up a bundle of neatly strapped notebooks.
This is the most I can collect in a day, and, presumably, they are still not enough.
Instead of these incomplete journals, I require more comprehensive records.
More comprehensive?
A diary should contain everything its author does in one solar day.
Your spider-sense is tingling.
For example... records on activities, records on thoughts, records on visuals, records on audio, records on smell...
Records on touch, records on simulated emotions, records on frame status...
Records on combat, records on weapon maintenance, records on injuries...
The girl before you is speaking non-stop at incredible speed. It is even wilder than that guy from Babylonia who fudges his report summary.
Isn't it great that we don't have to breathe? How sick it is to say everything in one go?—A certain Construct
But if you do not stop her right here, her M.I.N.D. will deviate.
...
Was there something wrong with the sequence? Or did I forget something?
Important things?
I believe the data sets I mentioned are highly prioritized.
...Please clarify. What is more important than data about yourself?
...
October 21st. Took some meds today for my upset stomach...
Error report and maintenance report.
She falls silent.
It seems that she can still understand, albeit in a less straightforward way. If words are the problem...
Painting?
Just one?
I see. To eliminate the chance that I record everything onto my paintings...
The viability of this experiment is estimated to be high. Despite having recorded all visual data in my internal memory drive, I believe this external recording is the closest approximation to being human.
A 24-hour footage record? You cannot believe they have installed this function for the Constructs in conservation areas...
Still, she is not very guarded for a Construct that acts alone.
Given that your heart rate has not fluctuated, the possibility of you lying to me is low.
And your suggestion is indeed viable. It doesn't matter if it was a lie.
That's not necessary. From the data I've collected, you pose no threat.
Looking her in the eyes, you immediately remember the day you met and how quickly she subdued you.
Maybe it is the light, but you seem to notice a slight change in her tranquil expression.
Smiling... Are you recommending I smile right now?
...Never mind. Now is not the time to dwell on it.
You should return to your mission, now that you have confirmed her safety.
After all, the airdrops have begun. The conservation area nearby needs you to bring back enough supplies.
Are you leaving?
Next time? The chances of us meeting again have decreased from 1.4% to 0.12%. This possibility is negligible.
If there's something else you want to say, I recommend you say it now.
Why does her description unnerve you...?
Haicma.
Haicma... You repeat the name, and you are pretty sure it is not on any deployment list you have seen.
You figure the higher-ups must have been pushing for more Constructs so that they can save the starving conservation areas from despair.
Miracles? The occurrences of impossible odds?
Perhaps it is just a spur of the moment, or perhaps you have been affected by the dropping estimated success rate in the rescue report, but you do not want her to draw that conclusion.
That is just your one-sided perspective. Miracles are merely after-the-fact conclusions.
A correction: we had a 1.4% chance of encountering each other this time. That is a higher possibility than what humans have traditionally considered a miracle.
Why do you keep pushing me to believe in miracles?
...
Haicma gazes at the human's departing figure.
If you knew that my purpose was not what you expected, you would have understood why your statement was false from the very start.
Her processor has long arrived at this conclusion, but Haicma cannot communicate this message no matter what.
She might have agreed with the human if she were a Construct. They may be machines physically, but they still share the same souls as humans.
Which is why Constructs are not accepted into the Church of Machina.
Machines do not make mistakes. It has always been like that.
She does not worry about being heard. The human has long vanished at the end of the corridor after waving goodbye.
She watches that corner until a passing breeze rattles the paper.
She should also go now...
I must prepare for my paintings.
When the night has come, and the land is quiet, Haicma, having returned to her base, takes out a piece of paper and places it on a drawing board.
Slowly, the empty world is filled with colors and lines.
In the center of it is the departing figure of a human, walking farther and father away.
This is Haicma's first painting in many years.
