Physical Core of the Matrix
Though it references the Gestalt's core architecture, everyone understands that what stands before them is merely a sub-terminal of the Gestalt, incapable of functioning with the same capacity as the original.
The researchers standing here today are the very pioneers working to interconnect the matrices, forming a larger computing power network capable of surpassing the Gestalt.
Or perhaps, they are merely tools.
Sir Executive, these are all the Matrix models we currently have.
He nods in a comically exaggerated manner, bowing forward at a precise 45-degree angle, not daring to raise his head.
If anyone were standing beneath him, they would certainly witness his remarkably complex expression: a mixture of smugness, reverence, and malice all at once.
Hahahahahahahahaha!
Before he can finish speaking, the seemingly elderly executive officer in front of him suddenly erupts into uproarious laughter. Despite the bellowing fans rattling everyone's ears, the executive's piercing cackle cuts through, making everyone within earshot visibly uncomfortable.
Mr. Gwynplaine, may I ask—
Hahaha!!!
Horst stands awkwardly in place.
Haha... alright, alright. Horst, I sincerely hope my laughter hasn't made any of you uncomfortable.
No, how could we possibly—
Hehehe... after all, this quirk has followed me into old age. I tend to break into laughter for no apparent reason.
Horst maintains a respectful, head-lowered posture. Only after confirming from the corner of his eye that the executive officer has stopped laughing does he cautiously speak again.
The company entrusted you with the mission to inspect Sector 141, making you someone we owe big thanks to.
We'd appreciate it if you could take a close look at our experimental progress this time. Afterward, we'd like to request your help in applying for more computing power. With additional computing power, those of us conducting research would have a bit more stability...
Leibowitz still has quite a few idle Matrices. Connecting you to other sub-terminals would be no more than a trivial effort.
Then, if you would consider—
But—even a single Matrix already possesses computing power beyond your reach. After using so many resources without producing anything worthwhile in return... that simply won't do...
Yes, yes, yes, you're absolutely right...
I am already an old man, while Leibowitz Company is still in its prime.
This old man might turn a blind eye, but the other executives, unlike me, won't tolerate such mediocrity.
Yes... I understand. Well then, do any of these subjects catch your eye as promising?
...The Chosen One and VI, those are their names, correct?
The old man's eyes narrow to slits beneath his lowered brows as he scrutinizes the rows of capsules arranged together.
You two, place the Chosen One and VI capsules into the central core and prepare for stimulation testing.
But VI has just hatched. The stimulation testing might have negative effects on this model...
Stop wasting time, just do as you're told...
Restraining a colleague who wanted to say more, the researcher standing to the side retrieves the Chosen One and VI capsules before Horst loses his temper.
The massive central core emits a cold mechanical rumble as it swallows both capsules into its belly.
Initiating process.
...Wait, what's wrong with the lighting system? Go check if there's an issue with the central controls...
The lights go out for just a moment, then rapidly come back on, followed by high-frequency flickering.
Alarms blare as piercing sirens wail throughout the entire laboratory—
Director, is the Matrix going haywire—
Haywire, my ass! It's because that capsule is still connected to the output device. Disconnect it now!
Sudden disconnection will cause model overload—
VI's trauma response is too intense—the simulated pain signals exceed the critical threshold...
...Alright, everyone, calm down.
Amidst the chaos, Gwynplaine catches the researcher's panicked hand.
Under everyone's bewildered stares, he begins to waltz—dancing to the piercing sound of the alarms.
Leaping and spinning, the aged, spherical figure performs his grotesque choreography under the pulsing lights, creating a disturbing tableau against the massive Matrix core behind him.
Hahahahahaha!!!
Even Horst can hear the unbridled joy in that laughter—pleasure derived from the model's "pain."
The alarms grow more piercing, and with them rises Horst's excitement, nearly making him jump for joy.
It seems the fat, aging executive is pleased with everything. As long as the inspection passes, acquiring computing power from the other matrices will be a done deal.
Director, we need to pause the test. The model hasn't been debugged before undergoing stimulation testing. There's a significant risk of data contamination...
Horst ignores the researcher's warning, instead focusing his gaze on the bizarre executive—who continues to prance about to the sound of the alarm, laughing maniacally with each step.
Our priority now is keeping the executive satisfied. As for these models, we have plenty more where that came from. If one breaks down, we'll just use another.
This is our only chance to secure that computing power...
But that VI model... we can only describe it as a "miracle." It's an irreplaceable experimental specimen, not something we can just discard and replace...
Mind your own business. Just keep your eyes on the data and do your job.
Roger...
Another researcher monitoring the data suddenly cries out in panic.
23.33%, 19.45%, 13.21%... It's not going to make it! The sensitivity is dropping rapidly!
Sensitivity measures the model's response intensity to trauma. The more stable the model, the stronger its reaction to stimuli. Conversely, it becomes weaker when unstable.
In other words, these readings reflect the model's "vitality."
Tsk.
That old man still hasn't stopped? If this continues...
He wasn't concerned about the model being discarded—he only cared whether the executive could finish his damn waltz before it failed. Otherwise, their chances of passing the inspection would be slim...
The alarm grows increasingly faint—the model is on the verge of collapse.
Have the Matrix reduce the pulse amplitude...
Oh?
At that questioning glance from the executive, Horst blocks the researcher from touching the controls.
What do we do now?
10%! 10%! The readings have stabilized!!
It's a moment of dramatic stabilization, as evidenced by the graph line that had been plummeting before suddenly leveling off.
The pulse appears to have been intercepted by something.
What's happening?
The Chosen One's signal waveform detected!!
The Chosen One?! That model that has never responded to any stimulation tests?!
The Chosen One intercepted the Pulse meant for VI!
As a consequence, the Chosen One's sensitivity is starting to drop! 95.31%, 87.28%, 80.05%...
You're just full of surprises today, aren't you, Horst?
The elderly man finally stops his comical gestures, turning toward them with newfound interest.
As you wish, sir... Now, about that inspection matter...
There's just one more item left, right? The stress test?
Yes, yes, the final test is... to make the model experience — death...
The researchers all gulp, one after another.
It's not the word itself that frightens them, but the fact that both models are already operating beyond capacity. If the Pulse is increased by another level, this would no longer be just a test—the models would face death in the truest sense.
...Do as he says.
He grits his teeth. Between a potential "miracle" and the limits of their computing power, he chooses the latter.
Following Horst's signal, the researcher steadies their trembling finger and reaches out to press the button that will initiate the final test—
—Please wait, sir.
The door slams open with a bang, causing the researcher to freeze in mid-motion.
...de Lévis, you shouldn't be here.
Take Miss de Lévis back to rest. She's too tired today.
As if already prepared for her arrival, Horst calmly signals the two guards beside him to step forward.
...de Lévis? Is that... Yui de Lévis?
No need to get so worked up—Horst. If I remember correctly, Miss de Lévis is the developer of the Chosen One and VI, isn't she?
Why not let the developer share some of her own insights?
But sir, that woman has always been biased against model testing. If we allow her to interfere with the experiment...
Wouldn't your anticipated "Danse Macabre" be ruined then?
Gwynplaine wags his finger, signaling Horst to be quiet, then turns toward Yui.
Ignoring Horst's remarks, Yui, breathing heavily, bows quickly to the researchers and Gwynplaine.
Thank you for your open-mindedness, sir. I'll get straight to the point.
She begins speaking slowly, her tone calm and composed, but her peripheral vision remains fixed on the sensitivity curves displayed on the large screen—VI: 9.23%, the Chosen One: 43.59%, both still rapidly decreasing.
While I can't yet understand why the Chosen One, who has consistently shown no response to testing, suddenly began reacting today, or why VI's data has stabilized around 10%...
But her intuition tells her that if these two capsules aren't extracted from the central system soon, they will face true death.
Sir, VI was just generated an hour ago from samples of my consciousness, with none of its parameters having undergone calibration. It's still a prototype.
Although the Chosen One has undergone some preparation, it still hasn't had enough time for further iterations
Forcing a test under these conditions carries an 84.23% chance of data contamination. If contamination occurs, all data from both models will become unusable.
De Lévis!
Horst barks a command from afar
These two models may have been developed by you, but they are, in fact, company property.
Don't let your personal research ambitions interfere with the normal progress of this experiment.
Chosen One-23.52%... VI-8.45%...
An irrepressible anxiety wells up.
Despite her anxiety, her mind as a researcher remains remarkably clear.
Mister Horst is correct. These two models do indeed belong to the company and are quite valuable.
For that very reason, giving them room to develop would be far more valuable to the company than hastily discarding them in a rushed experiment.
In the previous test, you should have already witnessed how they display normal fear responses to painful stimuli, sir.
I believe that confirming this fact has already served the purpose of the experiment.
However, prolonged exposure to such extreme conditions would damage the models—especially these two newly created ones.
Speaking solely as a researcher, I respectfully request that you pause this experiment, sir. Given sufficient time, I can deliver more complete results.
Gwynplaine strokes his beard; his face is concealed beneath the tall brim of his hat, his expression hidden in the shadow.
Madam, are you aware that your presence has interrupted our enjoyment?
The deep, sinister voice makes Horst's hair suddenly stand on end.
Sir, you need not heed her opinion. We can continue the experiment right now—
Gwynplaine waves his hand, signaling for him to be silent.
Death is a proposition every individual must face. If they cannot respond appropriately to such extreme situations, how could humans possibly trust such models?
Chosen One-12.22%, VI-5.67%.
Yui...
It's calling her—its voice is unbearably weak. Her heart clenches involuntarily.
This is a voice only she can hear. The capsule still hasn't severed its remote consciousness connection to her...
Her mind races.
Yes, that's absolutely right.
Judging by the reactions from the external output devices—the flickering lights, the triggered alarms—these two models only responded with "fear" to the pain stimuli, correct?
Ship whistles, water droplets in sewers...
—But humans survive in dangerous situations not only because of fear, but also because of the courage that springs forth from it.
The cold touch of a Corrupted hand, the pain shooting through her calf...
Oh?
A hint of interest mingles with his gloomy voice.
...Yes, courage. These two models have just been created and are still in their infancy. When facing danger, they can only instinctively respond with fear.
If we hastily subject them to death, I'm afraid their responses would be quite boring. Predictable and within everyone's expectations.
If you could give them the chance to grow, honorable executive, when they eventually <color=#ff4e4eff>awaken</color> fully, they might show you something unexpected.
...Courage...
Mulling over a word he hasn't heard in many years, Gwynplaine slightly narrows his eyes—
Good! Good! Hahaha!
I never expected to hear such an interesting proposal from among these rigid tools.
Miss de Lévis, you have sufficient talent to be transferred to company headquarters. I can be your sponsor.
However, the data obtained from the first model's "death" experience also has considerable experimental value for us—
He tips his top hat slightly, a blood-red smile splitting his white beard.
Of course, you can choose to extract them now, but the data collection would terminate at that point. If you really do that, I would have to reconsider my earlier proposal.
In other words, whether I recommend transferring you to headquarters or approve expanding the computing power of Matrix No. 141—both will have to be discussed at a later date.
After all... I need a complete set of data to verify what you just mentioned about the feasibility of "awakening."
(Damn it... this old bastard)
Thank you for your understanding and goodwill, sir.
VI -1.51%, Chosen Ones -7.89%
Wait—Yui, Yui, aren't you concerned about the computing power for Matrix No. 141 anymore? Didn't you always want to visit headquarters?
Ignoring Horst's outcry, she walks briskly and directly toward the Matrix core.
Terminate—Extract.
Damn it—!
She carries out both capsules, ignoring Horst's frantic shouts as she quickly walks away.
Ringing in her ears—a deafening sound that fills her mind, drowning out all other noise.
The last of her resolve carries her back to the laboratory, where she falls to her knees, her body once again drained of strength.
Don't worry... I'll protect you both.
A Bizarre Dreamscape
About 1 hour earlier
Your intuition alone is enough to determine that this is not a friendly place. If one were to compare it to a dream, it would definitely fall into the nightmare category.
Yet why you're in this dream, what you're supposed to do, even who you are—there are no answers to any of these questions.
Screech!!!
Terrifying monsters—but they aren't coming this way. They're in a corner on the other side, surrounding a shivering light.
(Agonized whimpering)
One slash, two slashes, three slashes—weapons raised high and brought down with savage force.
(Agonized whimpering)
This brutal cycle repeats itself over and over.
The already weak light grows increasingly dim, like a frightened small animal desperately trying to flee, but those blades of slaughter come down on it again and again.
Finally, it can run no more. The butchers corner it in another nook, raise their bloody blades high, and come crashing down.
Red, foam-like sparkles of light splash outward. It trembles, shaking uncontrollably.
Won't anyone help it? It's just a—
<size=40>Child, oh child</size>
A strange thought suddenly grips your heart. In this place, only it and you exist.
(Weak whimpering)
In the instant the next blade swings toward it—compassion in your heart compels you to step forward.
Yet as you reach out, you discover your arms are as soft and delicate as an infant's—are you truly such a fragile being in this dream?
The monsters notice your presence, and their weapons swing toward you one after another.
With your small, powerless body, you can neither escape nor parry. You can only watch helplessly as the sharp blades slice into your flesh.
They slice into your chest, into your neck, mangling flesh and blood beyond recognition, chopping and chopping in endless repetition.
Your heart and bones are split apart, tendons and flesh stripped away piece by piece, dragging you through excruciating agony. Yet you cannot die immediately. Your body regenerates only to receive the baptism of blades once more.
Should you dodge? If you just step aside, it would be exposed to them again, and you would be saved from this pain—
The monsters discover it, but they don't spare you either, their tools of cruelty raining down relentlessly.
Despite being covered in wounds, you persist in standing guard before it. As if sensing your helplessness, it embraces you tightly from behind.
Life ebbs from the two of you as wounds appear. Your regeneration can't keep pace with the monsters' strikes, and both of you gradually turn transparent.
Consciousness grows hazy, numbing even the sensation of pain.
Through your blurred vision, you see it turn the tables, sheltering you behind itself.
Yet countless blades converge into a massive guillotine, wider than the dream itself, inescapable and hanging high above both of your heads.
It falls— —only to shatter suddenly an instant before striking your bodies.
A pair of hands appears, gently cradling both you and it in its palms.
Don't worry... I'll protect you both.
Warm artificial light cascades silently over densely packed formulas. In the vast laboratory, only the crisp, rapid tapping of keyboard keys breaks the silence.
All 324 adversarial samples have been located...
Even after removing them from the extreme testing environment, the data might still retain irreversible contamination that propagates and amplifies through each layer of the neural network.
I've thoroughly checked every layer, from input, through hidden, to output—five full times. All detectable noise has been eliminated.
Another hour has passed, and still no response from either consciousness capsule.
These models are as complex as the human brain. I've done everything technically possible... The rest is up to them now.
Huff...
Taking a deep breath, she purges the frustration and anxiety from her mind. She can't transmit negative emotions through the remote connection. It's meant to support stability, not undermine it.
She cradles the capsule in her arms. With the data contamination still present, she can almost hear their agonized cries.
Still no response. Why isn't it working? Her mind grows agitated again. Instinctively, she searches through her fragmented memories for ways to comfort these "children."
Right.
It's okay now... Everything's okay...
She stiffly mimics what she remembers of her mother's gestures, gently patting the surface of the capsule. Time stretches on as she continues...
Yui... Yui...
Weak and faint, but undeniably there... The sensitivity curve on the monitor screen slowly rises. It's VI's voice.
I'm here... I'm here!
Thank goodness, it's still alive.
She looks up quickly, addressing the woman who's organizing reports.
Herta, VI's consciousness has awakened. We can move on to the next phase of restoration.
Get me more neural relaxants and glucose. Activate neural interfaces #137 through #198 for the remote connection, and increase power by another 20%.
She places the capsule on her lap, freeing her hands to identify the newly detected contamination points.
Yui... Don't... Don't...
VI's call comes again. Is it saying... don't go?
I'm right here. I won't leave.
She frees her left hand to pat the capsule's shell, reinforcing her promise to stay.
Yui... Don't... Don't...
The calls continue without stopping, one after another, like mumbling in a dream.
She involuntarily stops typing, leans down, and gently places her ear against the capsule.
What is it trying to say?
<size=60>Yui... don't cry...</size>
Huh?
The childlike voice instantly shatters her composure.
Her vision blurs as something hot and wet streams down her cheeks.
Drip, drip...
She embraces the capsule with all her might—holding it tight, so tight against her chest, as if embracing her broken former self.
Director, these test subjects have reached their limit. If this continues—
Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP! Do as I say!
Can you imagine?! The computing power expansion was within our grasp!! If only that woman hadn't ruined everything.
If you all hadn't failed to produce anything worthwhile, would we be suffering under the executive officer's watchful eye like this?!
But Director, these people volunteered for experiments in exchange for sanctuary in City 141... If they die, wouldn't that...
Forget about all that—I'll take full responsibility if anything happens. Just hurry up and collect the samples.
