Story Reader / Affection / Haicma: Starveil / Story
—3.9 km away from the conservation area reconstruction site 03.
Inside the library amidst an ocean of small bookshelves, a white hat breaches the "surface."
Holding onto the shelves, Haicma lifts her head, trying very hard to scan the books at the top.
How much longer are you going to look?
I'm not sure. At worst, until I finish browsing every book in this area.
Why are you going this far?
Our database has yet to record all human knowledge, Spooner.
I believe fixing a hole after discovering it is the responsible thing to do.
Then how about letting me help upload all these books?
...
Spooner, do you know how humans define a "miracle"?
It's probably... an after-the-fact conclusion of an event that happened but is almost statistically impossible?
What if that event keeps happening repeatedly, then?
Then perhaps you should find a way to isolate it?
As if hearing the most boring answer, Haicma turns her attention back to the shelves.
...
Spooner?
A bit strange, but I can't say why.
You mean this area?
I mean you, Haicma. I'm surprised by your changes, this shift that's unraveling the fundamental layer of your mindset.
This will make you look... different to the church. I don't think those folks will ignore it.
...Observing. Understanding. Perfecting myself. Those are parts of my mindset too.
That's not the point. The point is that Project Ark...
...
What?
I'm afraid you might have to handle it here on your own for now.
Sure, but where are you going?
An old friend's here.
Despite the vagueness, Spooner is not acting like it will be an armed encounter, so Haicma does not pry any further.
She is still in need of reference books she can use to decipher some human literature.
Just like how one would need to first understand programs before reading about artificial intelligence, there must be an entry point into understanding "miracles."
"The 100th Weekend We've Met"... What about the first weekend? Where is that book?
Wandering between the shelves, Haicma slowly amasses a large number of books she has to find. To understand them more comprehensively, Haicma has piled all the questions she has together.
But sometimes, not all questions have a definite answer.
This... has an issue number. Where is the first one?
Here.
She sees a hand passing her a book silently.
Woosh!
You briefly hear the sound of wind reverberating.
Your prank has not panned out the way you expected.
Instead, a book that is five centimeters thick flies at your face like a brick.
...It's you.
The book stops in the air. Haicma's aggression melts away as you two lock eyes.
If not for my analysis of your voice, you would be dead by now.
Still, you have shown up at the most opportune moment.
With that, Haicma hands you the book in her arms.
I require the interpretation of a human regarding the information in this book.
Based on my estimation—everything.
If possible. Please also summarize everything in the following books from the series.
So, you return to the bookshelves under Haicma's watchful eyes.
You bite the bullet and head toward where she has been, hoping to find the other books in the series.
Sitting down next to the shelf, Haicma turns to the first page of the book, and there it reads "Miracles" at the forefront.
Does it mean I have to accept that "miracles" exist before I can continue reading this?
Her fingers gently touching the notes on the title page, Haicma looks through the gap in the bookshelf at the human whose figure just happens to overlap with the words.
Miracles... miracles... acceptance?
Suddenly, Haicma realizes her neural circuit is somehow firing on all cylinders.
Not only does her pile of questions remain unresolved, something else with a higher priority pushes it into a corner.
It's similar... to what happened on the balcony?
Rubbing her chest, Haicma does not have the chance to contemplate for too long as she discovers the strange presence behind her.
Why are you here?
You finally noticed! I thought you were ignoring me all this time.
Sitting on the two sides of the same bookshelf with their backs toward each other, Zero and Haicma talk at a volume only the two of them can hear.
You've gone rusty too, Haicma. Is it because of the humans?
The church didn't tell me you're part of this operation.
I was in the neighborhood, and this place always seemed interesting to me. I thought it'd be a shame if I missed it.
Zero being interested in books? Even infected machines could not mutter something this nonsensical.
Recalling the "old friend" Spooner mentioned, Haicma fears that Zero is not the only one here.
As long as Haicma can keep an eye on the human's whereabouts...
Haicma, your mind has been running much slower lately. Has something contaminated your judgment?
If it's going to put Project Ark at risk, now's not too late to correct it.
This library is under the control of the human conservation area.
It's not too hard to fry a human's brain. As long as we mush it thoroughly, there's no chance the other humans will be alerted in time.
By the way, those Constructs are busy recycling their broken toys. And accidents are prone to happen to those who travel alone.
Her scythe extends swiftly to the crunching sound of gears turning. Pages scatter into the air from the books swept off by its blade.
Haicma turns to face the now empty shelf, her gaze piercing through the falling pages.
Disengage, Zero. Now.
Zero's familiar face flashes before vanishing between the white pages.
Without her usual banters and jokes, Zero's final expression is one of surprise and confusion.
And as Haicma hears footsteps approaching her from behind, Zero has disappeared amidst the scattered paper.
That's what Haicma wants. It's nothing like what you guys think.
That's fascinating. After all, I was sent here.
Are you going to barge in and shine a spotlight on the Church of Machina?
Don't worry. I found something the humans hid in this library a while ago.
If they aren't using it anymore, then I might as well give it a chance to shine.
...
I don't. Not yet.
Sitting across Haicma at the table, you notice her peeking at you ever so often, to the point that she has barely flipped any pages in her book.
The chances of Corrupted appearing here are less than 1%. Not that they would worry me. It's just...
...
The possibility of us meeting is much lower than that. What do you think about it?
What an abrupt segue...
Haicma does not answer you. She just takes a look outside the window before immediately turning back toward you as if she is hurriedly performing a ritual.
... (Thanks for nothing.)
No?
You open the book in your hand. Despite how groundless its fantasies are, those stories are always a part of how humans endure and survive.
I don't think your premise supports it based on what is written here.
...
My theory is that you're only here because this is the only building in this area with a unique purpose.
Hypothetically speaking, if this library did not exist, there is no way that a 0.08% chance could have...
She stops. Even though her expression has not changed, you can feel how much she loathes the conclusion she is about to make.
The wind blows past the window, catching the corners of the pages and turning them to the other side.
The sun shines through the clouds, getting gradually brighter, and the words on the ivory pages seem to shimmer in the light.
What was it that people said? "Language is power, and laughter is magic."
Inept as you may look, you hope that the things you have done can cast away the shadows within Haicma and everyone from the conservation area.
...
Holding down the fluttering pages, Haicma strokes the words on them once again.
But immediately afterward, she smells something unusual in the calming breeze.
She stands up, ignoring the chair she knocks down, looking at you as if gesturing you to stay close.
In a wide passageway, the two of you move quickly in tandem. You seem to recall that this is the fire escape.
Don't worry.
I just wanted fresh air.
Detonating.
BOOM!
The deafening blast engulfs everything. Shattered windows, sweeping smoke, and the heat surge toward you from behind like an insatiable inferno.
Haicma takes advantage of her mechanical body, closing the distance between you two and the fire door in haste.
See? Haicma can easily escape the kill box. Only the puny human will perish here.
Save your energy, Spooner. Instead of confronting me, you should think about how to correct Haicma later.
Easily slamming open the heavy door, Haicma turns and reaches out for the distressed human, ignoring the warning about the extreme heat.
(Estimating—the human is too slow. There is a 98.3% chance of failure.)
A success rate of 1.7% is enough. She is willing to gamble on the tiniest possibility.
!!
Suddenly, she feels a pair of hands on her body, pushing her away.
Miracles have not answered her prayers. Having devoured everything, fire and smoke gush out of the passage.
As she arrives at her base at night, the night sky has already wiped away all noises.
Haicma returns to the room with all her paintings. Although the proposed repairs include restoring her mind, she has rejected all of them.
Her pen moves and turns, acutely illustrating the old shelves, the books of varying heights, and the uneven gaps in between.
But her pen pauses mid-air as it is about to touch the part in the center.
A mistake...
Haicma goes over the decisions made in the meeting again: Zero is temporarily removed from all operations since her actions have alerted the Constructs from the conservation area, risking the Church of Machina's exposure.
Chariot is not reprimanded, given that he was acting under Zero's proposition.
Even Spooner is...
Spooner, having defended her during the meeting, also came to talk to her privately on the same topic afterward.
Without exception, every key member of the Church of Machina agrees after hearing the reports—
Haicma's actions have deviated from the behaviors of machine logic.
If she had not guarded this place as quickly as possible, her paintings might have also been taken away for assessment.
A mistake... The way I treated that human is a mistake?
She could have made excuses: an impersonation, an observation, even an infiltration.
But there is a voice within her that speaks without hesitation—
Yes.
It is an answer from deep within her mind, a rational analysis that she is choosing to ignore.
...
Dawn is coming, and the face in the center of her painting has seen no progress.
As the land is showered in the morning light at daybreak, all that remains in the vacant room are the brushes left behind and a picture of an empty face.
Struggling to tear a rift in the darkness, you manage to confirm that you are still alive.
You try to recall the moment before you lost consciousness: realizing that you could not escape, you instinctively chose to do what you could to save Haicma.
Then, how did you survive?
Are you awake?
You cannot identify the blurry silhouette, but your eyes manage to focus on the black-and-white figure.
Please don't make any sounds. There are... Corrupted nearby.
It seems that you are placed behind a low wall. Poking her head out, Haicma is carefully keeping watch.
You feel her hair in your hand, but it no longer feels smooth. You look down to find the ends charred.
Please don't worry. Your companions are expected to be on their way.
You want to ask about her damages only to realize you cannot speak. Meanwhile, darkness threatens to overtake your numbing consciousness once more.
I'm so sorry for causing you harm...
Your hearing starts to fade.
I will review all my experiences since encountering you. I hope I can find an answer...
Your vision darkens...
So, allow me to say an indefinite goodbye...
You try to clutch the ends of her hair with your last bit of strength, but all you can grasp are the crumbled pieces.
