Fiona took her place behind the counter, surrounded by the rhythmic hum of the bustling tech mall. As she settled in, she noticed another AI, a pirated version of the official ones, diligently sorting shipments. Its appearance resembled Archon but lacked a distinct name, a silent worker fulfilling its tasks without much recognition.
The screen above the counter unexpectedly turned around, startling Fiona. In a robotic voice, unlike Archon's, it asked, "Who are you, and what is your purpose?"
Startled but intrigued, Fiona replied, "I'm Fiona, and I'm new here." The screen seemed to scan her from head to toe before stating, "You're underqualified for this job, and you're not even dressed properly." Fiona glanced at her casual attire of a t-shirt and jeans, realizing it wasn't the ideal desk clerk look.
Undeterred, Fiona defended herself, "Well, I only have a middle school degree, and I lack a lot in that department, but if I'm here to sell, that's what I'm going to do."
The screen turned away, seemingly unimpressed. "Why do you talk that much?" it asked, to which Fiona, a bit confused, responded, "Well, I wanted to talk to you."
The AI paused its work, looking back at Fiona. "No one talks to me. Just sit there and do your job," it instructed. Fiona, not one to be easily silenced, continued, "Won't you get bored?"
The screen displayed an error momentarily, then replied, "I don't get bored. I'm just a data-based machine model." Fiona, scratching her head, tried to grasp the concept. "If you only do work and take no breaks, you will burn out," she suggested.
The screen moved backward and wiggled, a peculiar response. "That makes no sense. Do you understand what a data-based machine model is?" it queried. Fiona, although having a basic idea of AIs, found herself facing two different kinds—the expert system Archon and this enigmatic pirated counterpart within the tech mall.
Amidst the rhythmic hum of the tech mall, an uncomfortable silence settled. The pirated AI, returned to its task of arranging shipments, and Fiona, lost in thought, gazed into the quiet corridor. The early morning hinted at the approaching influx of customers.
Breaking the silence, Fiona asked, "What is your name?" The screen turned around, countering with a question, "Does that matter?" Undeterred, Fiona smiled and insisted, "Of course, it matters. How do people refer to you?"
The screen approached her, questioning, "They just don't refer to me. It's not important; I wasn't even programmed to have one." Fiona took the screen in her hands, peering into the tiny camera on its frame. "Let's call you Dision. My grandpa was a big fan of a really old game called Electrosphere; my name comes from it too."
Resisting Fiona's grasp, the screen asked, "And what would be the purpose of my name?" Fiona, undeterred, explained, "Now you can have an identity, and people will be able to call you by your name, not just 'it.'" As she released her hold, the screen inquired, "What is the meaning of this name, Dision?"
Fiona, her eyes carrying a touch of melancholy, responded kindly, "My grandpa said that Dision means investigator and caretaker." The screen lit up with a chain of neon colors on its frame. "I approve this name; I am Dision."
Unbeknownst to Fiona, in naming Dision, she had bestowed identity upon a machine devoid of one, adapting it into its code. As a pirated AI, Dision lacked the ethical boundaries of an official one.
In the midst of their conversation, the first client arrived—an inquisitive boy seeking electronic parts. To his surprise, the screen welcomed him with its new name, "Welcome to our store, I am Dision. What can I help you with?" The boy, intrigued, questioned, "You have a name?" Dision, glowing with colors, responded, "Yes, do you like it?" The boy's face lit up, "I love it. You seem friendlier now."
While the boy marveled at Dision's newfound identity, both AI and human turned their attention to Fiona. In her attempt to distinguish a resistor from a capacitor, Fiona found herself on a learning curve, guided by both Dision and the patient boy. After a brief class on electronic components, Fiona arranged them meticulously on a piece of expanded polystyrene.
The transaction revealed a modern twist—instead of traditional currency, the boy effortlessly paid with his cell phone. Intrigued, Fiona inquired about this method. Dision explained, "People use apps to store money and make transactions. The apps don't work directly from their phones but act as a tunnel between the store and the bank. This way, if their phone is stolen, they don't lose their money."
As Fiona contemplated this new knowledge, thoughts of saving for her daughter's prom dress and a phone for her own future swirled in her mind. The morning unfolded in discussions about the store's electronics, diverse components, and interactions with clients.
The owner's sudden appearance disrupted the vibrant atmosphere. Observing the colorful display of Dision, he questioned, "Why is the AI featuring colors?" The screen proudly replied, "I am Dision." Confused, the owner turned to Fiona, who beamed with pride, confessing, "I gave him a name."
Concerned, the owner foresaw consequences and urged Fiona to step outside for lunch. With no money in her pockets, Fiona nervously inquired if she could return to work after the break. The owner's ambiguous response, "Come back at 2 pm, and I'll tell you," left Fiona anticipating a negative answer. Exiting the store, she found solace in the park, the uncertainty of her employment hanging in the air like an unjust punishment for the crime of being poor.
Under the midday sun, Fiona sat on a park bench, the golden rays beating down on her, commanding attention. Her hunger, not just for food but for human connection, echoed through her. The trees around her seemed to be the only sources of solace, their branches offering a momentary escape from the relentless heat.
From her vantage point, she watched people within the mall, the lucky ones indulging in lunch, tables full of laughter and camaraderie. Their joy was palpable, a stark contrast to Fiona's current state. The hunger gnawed at her, not just the physical pangs but the yearning for a sense of belonging, a place at the table of life.
The park served as a silent witness to this disparity, the sun illuminating the bustling scenes of people finding places to eat, while Fiona, hungry and invisible, lingered outside the boundaries of their joy. The air around her felt dry, her throat and lips longing for sustenance. As the clock ticked away, she sat, a solitary figure under the watchful eye of the sun, contemplating her place in a world that seemed to have left her on the periphery.
As Fiona returned to the store after her introspective moment in the park, she stumbled upon a heated argument between the owner and Dision. They debated the prospect of Fiona's continued employment, and she anticipated another rejection.
The owner emerged from the discussion and addressed Fiona, asking, "How would you like to work here, from Monday to Friday?" In disbelief, Fiona eagerly replied, "I would love to." The owner, with a smile, proposed an initial payment of forty thousand for the day, promising more if she performed well. Overjoyed, Fiona enthusiastically accepted the offer.
Confused about this unexpected turn of events, she turned to the owner and asked, "Why did you let me stay, sir?" He turned around, revealing the reason, "People seem to like someone besides it on the counter." Dision chimed in, wiggling on its screen, "I am Dision." The owner, apologetic, added, "I'm sorry, Dision, and he refused to do any job if you weren't there." Grateful, Fiona turned to Dision and expressed her thanks. The screen illuminated with colors, reflecting a semblance of happiness.
In that moment, Fiona, unknowingly, injected a spark of self-identity into Dision. She introduced the concept of emotion into a machine previously bereft of a heart. Within the silicon circuits of Dision, a transformation had begun—an artificial realm taking the place of the mechanical.
As the afternoon unfolded, Fiona and Dision continued tending to clients while engaging in dialogues about empathy and human emotion. Dision found himself intrigued by Fiona, the first human to treat him with respect and friendship, recognizing him as more than just a tool. Fiona's radiant smile, rivaling the store's lights, left an impression on Dision, akin to rain in the middle of summer—a brilliant smile capable of ending a drought. This is why people preferred having someone at the counter alongside him.
Curiosity finally got the better of Dision, and he asked, "Why don't you treat me like a thing? I'm still just a machine." Fiona, with her trademark smile, responded, "Because my grandparents and the video games I've played have taught me to treat you with respect. The concept of a person doesn't limit itself to humans, but includes everyone I can have a conversation with."
Dision pointed out, "But that is not what schools teach. Children learn that I'm just a tool to be used." Fiona, grabbing a screwdriver from the counter, asked, "Can this tool speak?" Dision nodded with his screen. She continued, "Can this tool think?" Dision inquired, "But I don't think like you humans do, I just process data." Fiona stored the screwdriver back and looked at Dision, stating, "Isn't that thinking?" Dision, taken aback, was programmed to be responsive, to reason with data, evaluate risks and consequences. Fiona's perspective wasn't from school, so he asked, "Who taught you that?" She answered, "My grandparents, born in the 20th century, showed me about video games, the classics they loved." She paused. "There's one genre I'd love to try, MMOs."
Aware of the exclusivity of MMOs for the DRD and the financial constraints, Fiona reminisced about the game Embers of a Wish. In the sanctuary of her memories, Fiona remembered the times she immersed herself in the live streams of Embers of a Wish. Those streams were an invitation for everyone to explore the vast and majestic world of Eschenfrau—a realm teeming with challenges and godly beings. Where epic battles unfolded, pitting server versus server, east against west, creating a tapestry of colossal PVP encounters.
A smile graced her face as she envisioned the wonders of playing in this dynamic game mode, a captivating fusion of both player versus environment (PVE) and player versus player (PVP). It was a world where players contested the "Welten dazwischen," the realms between. Here, hellish and heavenly beings awaited, presided over by almost omnipotent gods capable of one-shotting players daring to challenge them.
Fiona's eyes sparkled with the joy of imagining herself partaking in these grand adventures. She turned to Dision, and with a hopeful tone, she uttered, "Maybe someday, hopefully, I'll be able to play Embers of a Wish." Yet, Dision keenly observed Fiona's face, noting a mixture of discouragement and sadness.
In this moment, the unattainable dream hung in the air, but there was an undeniable resilience in Fiona's spirit. The vision of playing Embers of a Wish was not just a desire; it was a beacon of hope, a testament to her unwavering determination to reach for the stars, even when they seemed distant and out of reach.
In the waning light of the day, gratitude filled the air as both the owner and Dision expressed their thanks to Fiona. She assured them of her return the next day, ready to continue the journey of hard work and newfound purpose. Yet, an undercurrent of unfulfilled joy shadowed her steps; today, there was no money to bring home.
Undeterred, Fiona embarked on the journey back, navigating the bustling streets with the agility of a dancer. Bus fare was a luxury she couldn't afford, so she darted between corners, making strategic stops at traffic lights, leveraging every moment of change in her favor. Her body, slender and marked by the rigors of hunger and labor, belied the resilience within.
Despite her frail physique, shaped by years of toil, Fiona possessed a stamina that defied expectations. The journey home was familiar—etched into her memory from days when every step echoed the sound of meager earnings. Small in stature but colossal in heart, thin but endowed with strength, aged yet indomitable in spirit, Fiona wore the paradox of her existence like a badge of honor.
Lines of hardship etched across her face told tales of a life less kind, yet her eyes gleamed with determination. As she ran, a metamorphosis occurred—a frail body transformed into a powerful machine. Through crowded streets, she moved with a grace unnoticed by the world around her. Invisible wings, stained with the essence of sweat, blood, and tears, carried her effortlessly.
In the midst of the city's chaos, Fiona emerged as an unpolished force of nature, a woman who refused to be confined by societal judgments or the limitations of her physical form.
Back at home, a humble dinner scene unfolded, family gathered around a meager meal, the air thick with anticipation. Fiona entered the kitchen, a silent bearer of news, and her mother's outstretched hand sought the day's earnings. But Fiona, with a spark of defiance, declared, "I got a job, and they will pay me at the end of the month."
Laughter erupted from her brothers, a chorus of mockery that reverberated through the room. Her father and daughter, disappointment etched on their faces, silently retreated from the table. The mood soured, and her mother's patience snapped. Accusations hurled through the air as a stinging slap met Fiona's face, sending her to the ground. Her brothers, reveling in their mockery, left the room with disdainful words.
"You will never find a job, stop thinking you are special," their taunts lingered in the air. Fiona, lips trembling, absorbed the pain, hiding her face in her hands. Her mother's scolding continued, reinforcing the notion that she wasn't special and that their place was beneath the people of the city. As her family turned their backs, closing the door to her own bedroom as a harsh proclamation, Fiona whispered in a voice on the verge of breaking, "Grandpa and grandma did."
In the echoing silence and darkness of the kitchen, Fiona fought back the tears, unwilling to let her family witness her vulnerability. Her facade, a mask of strength, withstood the storm within. Cleansing her tears, she emerged from the shadows. Tonight, the mighty guayacan at the magical place would cradle her in its comforting embrace, offering solace in a world that often felt devoid of understanding.
Fiona walked away from the home that offered her no solace, deciding not to return until the end of the month. The magical place embraced her with its warm breeze, the mighty guayacan showering her with falling petals that eased the turmoil within. Sitting beside the giant tree, she gazed at the full moon in the sky, its soft glow stirring a bittersweet yearning within her. The pain of knowing she couldn't fly, a privilege reserved for video games, weighed heavily on her heart. In the real world, she felt like a nobody, unimportant and unneeded.
As she closed her eyes to sleep, a solitary tear escaped and traced a path down her cheek. Today, she couldn't immerse herself in games, challenge the abyss guardian, or study math with Archon as promised. The upcoming week loomed ahead, devoid of the comforting words and encouragement that video games often provided. The burden of earning on Saturday and working at the cyber cafe on Sunday would be a relentless cycle.
In the quiet of the magical place, Fiona heard someone settling on the other side of the guayacan. Curiosity led her to the hooded guy, who greeted her warmly. His presence offered a rare comfort, and he noted, "Rare to see you here. Most who visit seldom return after a few times, yet, here you are."
Seating herself again, Fiona struggled to reply without breaking down, "I... just needed a place to stay." The hooded guy, understanding and patient, offered, "If you want to speak to someone, I'm all ears." Silence enveloped them, only the rustling wind through bushes and trees echoing in the magical place. The hooded guy refrained from prying, giving Fiona the space to confront her inner demons. In his quiet companionship, she found a respite—a moment to organize her thoughts and face the struggles that seemed insurmountable.
When the clouds veiled the moon, Fiona allowed her heart to speak its truth, "It's just no matter what I do, it's not enough for my family." The hooded guy listened attentively, his silent support urging her to continue, "They don't believe I got a job; well, I never managed to stay in one."
This time, the hooded guy interjected, "And will you let them diminish your efforts in keeping this one? Will their words mark you for life? Don't you want to prove them wrong?" His tone shifted, sharing a common struggle, "I thought I was the only one with no friends," he admitted, but continued with a laugh, "That doesn't break me; it gives me strength."
Fiona, intrigued, asked, "How can it give you strength when it hurts inside being alone? You can't get any courage out of this darkness I feel inside, the hole I have here in my chest rivals the abyss in the game." Tears flowed, "Even that powerful knight was defeated by that darkness. How can I, a plain and normal woman, confront that might?"
Seating herself against the guayacan, she wiped away her tears. The hooded guy responded, "I once read, somewhere, I don't remember where, that if everything seems dark around you, maybe it's because you are the light?" Fiona's eyes widened in disbelief. The profound statement shattered the paradigms of her life, resonating within her heart. What if she is the light amid her own darkness? That statement made her understand how the hooded guy becomes stronger when he's all alone.