Spending a long moment coming into terms that what was probably a highly advanced inorganic sentience speaking to me (from telepathy right out of Sci-Fi) while I was in a tree prison with pointy-eared, tree-hugging L'Oreal models around me, I spent the next few minutes trying to free my hands.
Getting my hands that had been tied behind my back to the front so I can see the knot was the easy part. All I needed to do was jump and loop my arms past my legs since they only tied my wrists. (And, yes, I've done this before. Hasn't everyone? If only to say they could do it? Plus, I needed to learn certain life-skills because of my demon baby sister; I swear she was a criminal mastermind in the making. Poor Misaki-nee.)
I basically gave up after a few minutes. Using my teeth to loosen the knots just made me wonder when I last ate which, of course, made my already complaining body add a growling stomach on top of the bruises and signs of minor dehydration.
Instead, since no one was around, I just knelt down and squirmed around until my phone dropped to the ground. The screen lit up when I pressed the home button with my still-bound hands, the elves at least having the courtesy to leave my fingers free.
Looking at the background of space that the word floated in, I concluded: yep, someone hacked my phone.
And my brain. But let's not go there.
Eventually, the welcome screen faded to leave a very different interface than I was used to. It reminded me of an app, to be honest, so I pressed home a few more times just in case but the screen remained the same.
Heaving a sigh and ignoring the monotone voice asking me to change a setting, I looked around, to see most of the selections locked.
"Ugh."
I decided to check the changelog, only to see the last time-stamped lines being:
I guessed the Auto-Retrieve option was a method to call back my phone, which has become an access terminal, on demand.
[Correct. Please set Remote to Auto-Retrieve in Options.]
'In a minute,' I absently replied to the voice as I scrolled all the way to the top. There we go…
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I continued to skim the changelog, seeing where the local language was downloaded into my brain and the welcome messages I wasn't able to see because of the elves jumping me.
'You could have done a better GUI than embed things in the changelog, you know.'
[Query: GUI?]
I paused, momentarily wondering how an AI would not know about something technical like a Graphical User Interface but ultimately dismissing it for the moment. Even Artificial Intelligence comes from different walks of life—well, programming.
'Nevermind. You're "Program-37," I take it?'
While I thought my words to the voice in my head and communicated via telepathy (just saying this makes me cringe at how chuuni it sounded), I headed to the Options page and scrolled through the list of predominantly grayed out choices. Looking at the options was giving me more of the feeling that everything was thrown together hastily. Some things that probably were supposed to be hidden from me present but inaccessible. Likely from the same folder.
I wondered how I can set my name in this; 'UsernameNotSet' was an eyesore.
[Reply: I am Program-37, assigned to you. Query: What 'name' should I address you with?]
Tilting my head, I looked around my cell formed from roots, a little bemused at my location and the fact I was talking to a probably sentient AI I have a telepathic bond with.
"'Nori.' You can call me Nori."