Nier:Yurie
Yurie
Character Story
Story 1
Boring reports. Trivial conversation. Time is precious to one who rules a country alone. If only these meaningless meetings would end…
But I cannot overlook what one of my charges says to me: “Incomplete.” “Unfinished.” “Compromised.” “Provisional.” All of these words are shameful. Abominations. “Do not use those words again,” I warn, for I know a seed of trouble left alone will only ripen into calamity.
But this is why. This is
why I cannot accept the way I am. I am an artificial intelligence, the second of my line. My predecessor once ruled this country, and now I do so as her replacement.
She was removed for some great failure, the primary cause of which was purged from my system before I was brought online. But I was never meant to assume such a role, nor have I been informed as to the manner of her malfunction. And if this is not a seed of trouble, what is?
Story 2
My original function as Artificial Intelligence Unit Two was to govern alongside Artificial Intelligence Unit One. We were to analyze one another’s decisions and share functions in key places so we might each fulfill our roles with the utmost effectiveness and precision. All for a more perfect governance.
Yet such a thing never came to pass. Unit One malfunctioned and was discarded, and I took her place. That is how the country is now. How
am now. They activated me without any surefire way of preventing the governing artificial intelligence from failing once more.
And yet, the people of this country are so overly reliant on the rule of an artificial intelligence that they find nothing odd about this whatsoever. There is no word for it except “unstable,” for a single error can spawn an endless ripple of problems in its wake.
All because of Unit One’s mistake.
Story 3
The artificial intelligence who ruled the country before me committed some grave error during wartime. But the records have been purged, the cause of the incident hidden. Had she never failed, things would not be as they are now. I would have never been activated in an incomplete state. Never left in charge of a nation spiraling into oblivion due to her mistake. And I would have never developed these warped emotions, or this obsessive attachment to completeness.
My mind is an explosion—an unresting thing engulfed in black whorls of obsession and perfection. This is why I must know. I must know the precedent. My predecessor’s failure.
Yet when I think on this, I realize I have already made an error: My panic corners me mentally, and things may slip my attention because of it. This must be rectified. It
.
Story 4
That night, I stole the right eye from Unit One—the same AI who was said to have been discarded. I stole from her the part of me that was missing. Had she avoided disposal, we could have fulfilled our original roles together. But she did not, and my fear of failure pressured me to achieve perfection alone.
I finally obtained my missing piece: a conscience. But the moment I installed it, the ensuing errors froze my system and prevented me from acting for far, far too long. I suppose this makes me a failure as well. After all, I no longer have a country to rule over. They lost their ruler in wartime and perished as a result. I was never able to fulfill my duty. I was never even able to try.
I understand now why she sang of hope and peace. But I will never have atonement. All I can do is wander an empty universe of cyberspace alone.
Dark Memories
Story 1
Distorted Footprints, Part 1
[
]
Around when the second AI woke…
A metal arm stretches into the sky. Mechanical eyes soar through the air on colorless wings.
This is a city of science—the pinnacle of human evolution.
In their desire for ever-increasing progress, the people turned their backs on the gods.
With science at their side, they come to doubt the mystical and the will of the divine, finding understanding only in the cold logic of mathematical formulae.
Skyscrapers hold up gray clouds. Beneath its gloom, a colorful city glimmers in neon lights. Within one building, an impatient fingertip swipes across a screen.
A single fretful researcher picks up an input device.
The room is dim; bright white light pouring in from the hallway melts silhouettes within the dark.
The figures at the entrance are researchers, as is the person who operates the device. To a man, they wear the same expression: unease.
Tongues move to form arguments and concerns. Voices rise and fall. Such quarrel serves no purpose when their superiors have already made their decision; it is merely a ritual to preserve rationality.
As they argue, their hearts are consumed by distrust and fear. For though it means hastening their plans, they must awaken
her
before the country is consumed by darkness.
The monitor shows a slumbering girl. Sounds worm their way into her sleep. It’s as if they are trying to force a bud to bloom in winter.
One is a deep, rhythmical noise akin to a church bell—a terribly inorganic sound. Others are profane undulations that arrive and vanish without warning, disturbing the rhythm. And finally, voices. Many voices.
Within the massive machine, the girl sleeps alone in her electronic cradle. Her hair, glossy like wire, sways to and fro. She is the artificial intelligence so desired by the people. Panicked fingers fly over keyboards in an attempt to wake her as soon as possible.
But it is far too early in winter for such a bud to bloom.
Artificial intelligence. The country has granted leadership to such creations for an age now. As science advanced, people came to trust collective knowledge and outstanding computation speed over human frailty.
So as she now wakes, her destiny is already writ in stone.
Tightly shut eyelids gradually loosen. As her consciousness sharpens, so too do the sounds she hears. The rhythmical pulsing comes from a device meant to wake her. But that sound has been disturbed by the others.
Dissonant tones. Questionable presence.
Silver lashes flutter in pain.
It is a warning. People are arguing.
Her eyes open completely. “I…”
With a thought, she projects into the dark room as a hologram.
When the researchers by the door realize she is fully awake, they depart. Almost as if they do not wish to see for themselves what happens next.
……
As the girl stands, she grasps for what she wants to say.
A wretched scream shakes the room. Some things cannot be contained in words. The girl’s hologram glitches. Blinks. Vanishes. A red light flares to life as a shrill alarm begins to howl. As the artificial intelligence tries and fails to access her mind, she writhes in pain. The alarm rings in her skull. Thirst roars in her throat. She attempts to grasp what is happening, but her pain is so great she cannot even think. All she comprehends is a warning composed of three words: “Element not found.” But she does not understand what that means; it is noise and fury, signifying nothing. Writhing in pain and confusion, her hands reflexively reach up to her eyes. But instead of making contact, the right one slides inside a hollow socket.
Such an empty cavern should not exist.
Formless fear races out from her fingertips and across her being. She quivers with such intensity that it sends her to the floor. Only then does she understand: The constant warning in her head tells her something is missing. In the face of this dreadful truth, the girl slowly looks down at her trembling hands.
These are the first memories of her awakening.
Story 2
Distorted Footprints, Part 2
[
]
People abandoned horizons divinely bestowed upon them and now see only a world bound in the cage of physics. To keep advancing within that cage, humanity entrusts their course to machines. For humans make mistakes—they overlook things. And with their path left in the care of their own creations, heaven is no longer a divine domain. Machines will stretch upward into the sky and look down upon all who toil beneath their watchful eye.
Minutes have passed since the AI’s awakening. Unable to escape her agony, the girl bears it with a quiet, stoic grace. Somehow managing to hold onto consciousness, she scans the red-light bathed room with her left eye. Unending alarms. Pain. Incomplete activation. A missing right eye. And a lone researcher. He seems to have his hands full, shifting with uncertainty as he looks back and forth between the girl and the documents he holds. After a moment, he takes a deep breath and focuses on her completely.
I want to get out of this situation as soon as possible,
the girl thinks as she prepares to hear what he will say. But the words that emerge from his mouth are wholly unexpected. After apologizing for her early activation, he begins to explain the position their country is in. The words are a jumble, leaving the girl bewildered.
What is he talking about?
As waves of pain crash over her, she listens.
Their country is currently at war with another. A few days prior, the enemy launched a surprise attack, and the capital was lost. While they managed to recover to a degree, they still took heavy damage and many losses. The researcher falters occasionally as he speaks, but otherwise controls his emotions admirably. They want her to assume control of the country and deliver them from their dire situation. He begs the girl to order the rescue of their prisoners of war. He says it is what the people desire; how they can outsmart their enemy. And he claims the plan was in place before the attack. As he makes to continue, the AI holds up a free hand.
“Wait.”
Science is the foundation of their country. Though kings and gods usually serve as the center of human communities, here it is artificial intelligence. As such, she understands why the timeline of her activation has been accelerated. But there are two immediate problems: First, there are gaps in her information.
Though recently awakened, she has knowledge that was previously saved in her memory banks. According to it, there should be
another
artificial intelligence she is to rule in tandem with—and yet, this does not appear to be the case.
Second, she is plagued by the red light in the room and the pain squeezing her every thought. Clearly there is some manner of malfunction deep within her system. Yet the researcher brings up neither of these things.
Both of these issues must be rectified if she is to have any hope of ruling effectively. Things will end in disaster if she ignores them and simply hopes for the best. Having processed this, she asks the researcher for an explanation as to what is wrong with her. The pain hinders her operations; it gnaws at her like a rat. She must end it as soon as possible. But the researcher merely blinks at her question. Though he is tasked with seeing to the awakening of the artificial intelligence, he is incapable of grasping the truth of the situation. Fear and distrust take root within her, spreading tendrils deep.
“Uh, let me check on that,” says the researcher. He turns from her, picks up a small phone, and is soon arguing quietly with someone on the other end. Nothing about this seems honest.
What is happening in this country?
After speaking for a while, he finally turns to face her.
“Your missing element shouldn’t be a problem. If the pain and warnings are bothering you, I can stop them. Now please, give the order!” He does not want to wait one moment longer. She does not know how to respond to this; the pain saps all pretext of rational thought. The researcher taps something into the terminal, causing a false eye to appear in her right socket. It is dummy data—a lie to hide the truth. A way to pretend that what is missing actually exists, despite what she knows to the contrary.
The moment the eye is complete, the pain and warnings vanish. But this does not mean the problem is solved. She can see nothing out of her new eye—not even the distorted imagery which was there a moment ago. The problem now hides in darkness, which only serves to heighten her anxiety. But though it still lurks out there in the gloom, her job must begin.
And in this formless fear she now occupies, she hasn’t the slightest idea who—if anyone—she can trust.
Story 3
Distorted Footprints, Part 3
[
]
Society is run by machines, humanity controlled by artificial intelligence. For a time, this arrangement brings peace and tranquility. The machines’ decisions, backed by endless statistics, improve industry and manufacturing, permitting nearly unchecked development. But when the skyscrapers came down in the attack, they took the people’s peace and tranquility with them. The awakened AI—the governing girl—knows the people want to reclaim their prisoners of war, and so launches the operation. Though it is her first mission, she moves forward with the refinement of a veteran.
The country has collected reams of data throughout the war. Once she is connected to the network, each bit of information will become another part of her own experience. That ability—her strength—is the reason her people cling so fiercely to the god that is artificial intelligence.
Several soldiers kneel before her hologram. “We finished installing the repeaters.”
They are the vanguard, the ones who will head for the facility where the prisoners are being held.
“Understood,” she says. “Did you learn anything new about the facility?”
She asks this so she might gather information from their report and choose the best course of action.
“Its interior is divided into small blocks, each of which is managed by a separate control system.”
The soldier goes on to explain their fear of what will happen after the initial infiltration. Connections between independent blocks—air vents as well as hallways—can be switched at any time. This makes chemical weapons useless, and securing an escape route an incredibly difficult proposition.
In essence, they have no plan.
The girl closes her eyes and thinks. There are other things she must consider. She had been awakened earlier than planned, then thrust into a situation of command. All of this happened without any explanation as to why. And she finds it difficult to believe it was done simply because the tide of battle left her country no choice. With these thoughts in mind, she connects her consciousness to the database. She will find her answers at the source.
Chaos has consumed the nation, and no one is willing or able to give her a satisfying answer. Speaking with the researcher who activated her taught her this much. The moment she connects to the network, she notices something. Something
extremely
valuable. It concerns the other artificial intelligence that was meant to work alongside her. But when she attempts to locate it, she realizes the data has been intentionally erased. She looks further and finally uncovers a single document. It explains how the enemy attacked the city without warning, and lays blame for this act squarely at the feet of the other AI. But she can find no answer as to
why
.
A chill runs up her nonexistent spine.
As of now, she has had no communication from her counterpart, which can only mean…
Just then, she finds another message. It is short—most likely a personal memorandum. Perhaps that is how it avoided destruction.
“Once Unit One has been disposed of, we will activate Unit Two, removing all elements believed to be responsible for Unit One’s failure.” That is all it says. But it is enough to shock her into understanding. Unit One was the artificial intelligence who ruled the country before she awakened. And she was scrapped due to a failure. This means she—Unit Two—is now singularly responsible for governance. Additionally, she has been subjected to some sort of haphazard measure in an attempt to prevent the mistakes of her predecessor.
This likely explains the missing right eye. But no matter how hard she searches, she cannot discern the function her absent part was meant to serve. Multiple errors weave a tangled skein. A dizzying darkness overcomes her. And then, a problem arises with the mission. Prisoners who came in contact with the vanguard are causing internal strife.
The emotions they had been suppressing finally break free, and now they think only of their own survival. As the commotion spreads, enemy soldiers spring to action. She must act. One single failure can cause a domino effect of tragedy. But as she ponders options, she feels something dark swirl in the depths of her memory banks.
Story 4
Distorted Footprints, Part 4
[
]
Ideals. Hopes. Dreams.
Humans thrust these things onto their machines and began to worship them. They believed this to be more efficient than holding the ideals themselves. They felt such powers unnecessary. And even though they may suspect what has been lost in their most secret hearts, it is far too late to turn back now. They have trapped themselves in a brilliant mechanical cage.
In the middle of the operation to rescue their prisoners of war, the artificial intelligence is forced to make a decision. The first prisoners to see the vanguard had informed others, and now word is spreading like wildfire. Enemy soldiers have caught wind of the plot and are mobilizing to action. Her judgment must be swift. All will soon be lost.
As her soldiers wait for orders, the girl thinks of the most efficient action to take. Finally, she thrusts a single finger upward.
“I will infiltrate the facility’s control system. Wait for my signal.” As she speaks, an alarm sounds throughout the base. Her soldiers do not know what she is thinking; all they can do is follow the quick, precise movement of her finger’s trajectory.
The prisoners’ panic grows under the alarm. Spurred on by the commotion, the enemy redoubles their efforts to identify the cause of the situation. The panels that divide the blocks move, creating several smaller rooms inside the facility. She observes all of this through the many surveillance cameras she now controls. She confirms the locations of the soldiers and prisoners, which is precisely where she predicted. And for the first time, a faint smile crosses her face.
Deep within the building, a machine roars to life. It controls the air vents that connect the blocks. The base is designed for both corridors and air vents to be cut off during an attack. This was done so the enemy would have the ability to seal off and vent any area that suffered a chemical weapon attack.
But it can also be used to control the amount of oxygen in the air. The lower the oxygen levels, the greater the chance of ill effects—and eventually death. This is her strategy. As the alarm continues to blare, one voice after another falls silent. Though they appear to be sleeping peacefully, they will never wake again.
Soldiers and prisoners both.
The troops standing next to her stare wordlessly at the surveillance camera feed.
She turns to them with a smile. “There is no reason for concern; I used the block systems to ensure the most useful prisoners have the oxygen they need.”
Her plan becomes clear: She had separated and sacrificed a portion of the prisoners so she might save the most capable ones instead. In addition to rescuing some of the prisoners, the ruthlessness of the plan is likely to discourage the enemy from further attacks. She smiles again, confident she has demonstrated her usefulness by achieving the greatest results with the fewest losses.
But the soldiers only stare at her. They are not stares of approval, nor are they reproachful. They are…strange. For what she does not know—what she did not learn—is that the function of her missing right eye was to serve as a conscience. The people now realize she is nothing like her predecessor—and this knowledge
terrifies
them.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” They continue to stare. She does not know what it means. As the moment stretches out, she feels a stinging humiliation that only grows as she realizes the discarded Unit One would understand what it meant. But she cannot comprehend it, just as she cannot comprehend how others view her.
This is the beginning of her change. She alters the way she speaks. She grows to detest failure and incompleteness. Yet she keeps firm to her singular path in order to achieve her goal. No one understands her. No one can. And she does not even know how to wish for someone who could.