The statue in the middle of the vast estate was neither grandiose 
nor austere.  Atop a waist-high pedestal stood a three-foot tall 
statue of a young woman with a cat on her shoulders.  She was 
smiling and seemed to be on the verge of laughing.  The cat had 
one paw raised and was batting at stray wisps of her hair.  The 
statue had obviously been made in painstaking, exacting detail.  
It truly seemed like a moment in life captured for all of 
eternity.

The wind gusted, causing the trees to whisper to each other 
excitedly.  The sun came out from behind some clouds and shone on 
the statue.  Or would have, if not for the shape in front of it.

The shape reached out a tentative hand towards the statue.  It 
didn't quite touch it, just held the hand an inch from the 
surface.  The hand moved around the statue, reaching for but never 
quite touching it.

The shape pulled the hand back.  It brushed scarlet hair out of 
its eyes before turning its back on the statue and wandering 
lifelessly away.

Life.  If only.


But do thy worst to steal thyself away,
For term of life thou art assured mine,
And life no longer than thy love will stay,
For it depends upon that love of thine.
Then need I not to fear the worst of wrongs,
When in the least of them my life hath end.
I see a better state to me belongs
Than that which on thy humour doth depend;
Thou canst not vex me with inconstant mind,
Since that my life on thy revolt doth lie.
O, what a happy title do I find,
Happy to have thy love, happy to die!
But what's so blessed-fair that fears no blot?
Thou mayst be false, and yet I know it not.

   William Shakespeare
   Sonnet XCII


No Longer Than Thy Love

by Richard Lawson


Ryunosuke took a sip of his tea as he stared at the monitor.  
After a moment, he set the cup down and pounded a few more lines 
of code out of the keyboard.  He then sat and stared at the screen 
for a little longer.

The sound of someone descending the stairs failed to break his 
concentration.  Nor did the feeling of someone standing right 
behind him.  It took a hand clasped firmly on his shoulder to make 
him acknowledge the fact that he wasn't alone.  He looked up.  "Hi 
Dad."

Kyusaku brushed gray-streaked hair out of his eyes.  "I was 
expecting you at the lab today."

Ryunosuke blinked.  "Didn't I send you an email?"

"No.  Why did you stay home?"

"I promised Aki that I would go to his soccer game, and I didn't 
want to count on the traffic being clear between here and Tokyo."

"Ah."  Kyusaku's eyes crinkled.  "Well, of course I don't mind.  
Just please remember to keep me informed."

"Yes, Dad.  Sorry.  I've done some revisions and uploaded them.  I 
think we can reduce some of the delays by inverting..."

"What's this?"  Kyusaku leaned forward to study the lines of code 
on the screen.

Ryunosuke blushed.  "N-nothing."  He winced at the obvious lie, 
and tried to shut down the monitor.

Kyusaku grabbed his wrist, then reached down to the keyboard to 
page up the display.  "It looks rather like neural net coding."

Ryunosuke sighed.  "Yes."

"Like I used with Atsuko."

"Yes."

Kyusaku looked down at him, then walked over to a chair, pulled it 
over, and sat down next to him.  "What are you doing?"

Ryunosuke cursed the ill luck that had the only other person who 
could understand the code he'd written walk in on him while he was 
writing it.  Then again, since they shared this lab in the 
basement of the Mishima mansion, it was perhaps inevitable.

Ryunosuke took time to collect his thoughts.  This had to be said 
carefully.  "I've been working on a design for the NK series of 
cyborgs that will allow the host brain to live almost 
indefinitely.  I've, uh, called it the NR android."  He flushed a 
little at his own display of ego, and quickly moved on.  "Recent 
breakthroughs in understanding the aging process, coupled with the 
notes Atsuko took on the degradation of her brain and the causes 
for it, have led me to believe that it is possible."

Kyusaku reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette.  It 
was the one habit his family had not been able to break him of.  
Ryunosuke almost smiled, thinking of some his mother's subtle 
efforts to get her husband to stop smoking.  One had involved 
starting a small bonfire in the hallway and blowing the smoke into 
the bedroom where Kyusaku lay sleeping.

Kyusaku lit the cigarette, took a few puffs, then fixed Ryunosuke 
with a steady look.  "Why?"

Ryunosuke had to keep himself from flinching at the pain that had 
crept into his father's voice.  While for the most part Kyusaku 
had accepted Atsuko's death, there was still a part of him that 
felt guilty about the design that had accelerated the aging of her 
brain.  Atsuko and Akiko had gone to great lengths to assure him 
that he could not have anticipated what would have happened.  
Indeed, it had been a minor miracle that his design had worked at 
all and allowed Atsuko to live in the first place.  Kyusaku had 
allowed himself to be consoled, but Ryunosuke knew that guilt 
still gnawed at him, however unreasonable it might be.

Ryunosuke gathered his courage.  "It's just a mental exercise, 
Dad.  I have no intention of ever creating another cyborg like the 
XNK."

"I'm glad to hear you say that.  How far has this 'mental 
exercise' gone?"

Ryunosuke sighed and stood up.  The lab was large and crowded, 
with bits of half-completed projects strewn all around.  Very 
often, Kyusaku would get a burst of inspiration and begin to build 
something wonderful, only to realize later that the idea was 
unworkable.  For every brilliant device he created, a dozen failed 
devices littered the lab.

Ryunosuke led his father through the maze of the lab to a an area 
where several large wooden crates were stacked.  These were used 
to deliver parts back and forth to the main lab at MHI.  Ryunosuke 
pushed a crate aside, and opened another one.  He stood aside and 
let his father look in.

Kyusaku stared down into the crate.  Nestled inside were the head 
and body of an android.  Kyusaku reached inside to pull out the 
head.  He examined it closely.  "This is very similar to my first 
design for Atsuko."

"Yes, Dad.  To create the suspended skeletal structure you used in 
your second design would require far more resources than my 
'mental exercise' required.  I just wanted to see how feasible my 
neural net designs were, and built this prototype to test them."

Kyusaku looked down again into the crate.  "You only needed a 
head.  Why did you create an entire body?"

Ryunosuke shrugged his shoulders.  "What's the point of a head 
without a body?  Besides, to implement Atsuko's suggestions, I 
needed far more processors than would fit inside the head."

Kyusaku looked at Ryunosuke again.  "Is it designed for a cat's 
brain?"

Ryunosuke answered carefully.  "It's not designed for any 
particular brain.  I don't have life-support incorporated into 
this design.  This is just a test of the neural net.  I would 
never, ever create an unwilling cyborg, Dad."

Kyusaku grunted.  "Let me ask again.  Why?"

Ryunosuke drew a deep breath.  "I... I miss Atsuko.  Still.  Ten 
years is not enough time to remove the longing I have for her 
presence.  Working on this helps me to deal with the longing.  I 
fantasize that I am merely helping to design her next body, that 
when I finish she'll move into it and we can get to work on the 
next design.  It helps.  Those fantasies help."

Kyusaku drew deeply on his cigarette and carefully replaced the 
head into the crate.  "Son.  I... I understand the need to deal 
with Atsuko's absence.  I still miss her too.  But something 
Atsuko taught us is to look forward to the life you have, rather 
than dwell on what might have been."  Kyusaku reached over and 
grabbed Ryunosuke's shoulders.  "Don't let the fantasy go too 
far."

Ryunosuke nodded.  "Yes, Dad."

"Good."  Kyusaku released his shoulders and led them back towards 
the center of the lab.  "When is Akihito's game?"

Ryunosuke glanced at his watch.  "In about forty-five minutes."

"Good.  I'll go watch, too.  Do you think he'll mind?"

Ryunosuke chuckled.  "You know he'll love having you there."

Kyusaku headed for the stairs.  "I'll get my Land Rover."

Ryunosuke almost chuckled again.  After all these years, his 
father still hated the idea of chauffeurs.  "Go ahead.  Let me 
finish up here."

"Okay."

Ryunosuke watched as his father left, then turned to the console.  
As he did, a new window popped up of its own accord.

THAT WAS CLOSE.

"You were listening."

OF COURSE.  WHY WOULDN'T I?

"I don't know.  Because it's not polite?"

WHAT DO YOU MEAN?

"Never mind.  I'm glad he found out about this much, though.  I 
don't have to try and hide it from him."

WILL YOU TRY TO HIDE ME?

"I... I'd rather he not find out about you."

I SHOULD WANT HIM TO KNOW ABOUT ME, SHOULDN'T I?

"I... oh, I don't know.  I'm beginning to think this whole thing 
is a mistake."

WILL YOU DELETE ME, THEN?

"Oh God, leave me alone, Nuku Nuku."

WHATEVER YOU SAY.  YOUR NEW CODE IS GOOD, BUT I HAVE SOME 
SUGGESTIONS.  YOU'LL FIND THEM IN FILE 'NR_REV_12.2.102'.

I LIKE YOU VERY MUCH, RYUNOSUKE.

The window closed itself, leaving behind a shortcut to the new 
file.  Ryunosuke stared at it for a moment, then shut down the 
monitor and turned to go watch his son at play.

---

"Ready to go, Mother-in-law?"

Akiko looked up from her monitor to see Yoshimi waiting patiently 
at the office door.  "Just a second, dear."  She finished typing 
up her email before sending it off.  She stood and stretched, a 
little stiff.  Age was beginning to creep into her bones and 
ligaments, and she was not enjoying it.

She walked over and took the coat that was offered her.  They 
began to make their way to the limousine waiting for them at 
street level.  "How was work?"

"Good.  I had a new patient come in today."

Akiko beamed.  "Excellent!  You have... what, five regular 
patients now?"

"And lots of referrals from my mother's practice.  It's almost a 
steady business."

"It'll get better.  Trust me, there is no shortage of people in 
need of psychiatric counseling."

Yoshimi smiled.  "Perhaps, but there is also no shortage of 
psychiatrists."

They entered the limousine and began the long journey home.  Akiko 
settled back in the seat, relatively content.  She was glad that 
Yoshimi had allowed her to set up an office at the MHI 
headquarters, which was in a prime location in ever-crowded 
downtown Tokyo.  And it was nice to have someone as pleasant as 
Yoshimi to ride with and share the occasional lunch.

Yoshimi was glancing at her watch and shaking her head.  "I'm 
going to be too late to see Aki's game."  She turned her head 
towards Akiko.  "How did you do it?  How did you raise a son and 
run a company all by yourself?"

Akiko chuckled.  "Not very well."

Yoshimi paled.  "Mother, I didn't mean - "

"Hush, dear, I know you didn't."  Akiko looked out the tinted 
window.  "It was hard.  So hard.  I loved my son - your husband - 
but I couldn't spend all the time I wanted to with him.  The job 
was too important.  I consoled myself with the idea that, by 
insuring my company's future, I was ensuring Ryunosuke's as well."

Akiko continued to stare at nothing at all.  "In the end, I used 
that rationalization to block out everything else - my son, my 
husband, my whole life.  It was just the job, it was only the job.  
Eventually that was all I had.  The job.  I had lost everything 
else."

She felt a hand on her arm.  She turned to see that Yoshimi had 
scooted over and was smiling gently at her, understanding on her 
face.

Akiko smiled back at her.  "Don't worry, I've gotten over that.  I 
still feel guilty from time to time about the wasted years, but 
eventually I learned about priorities.  I still ran the company, 
but I also found the time - *made* the time - to be with the ones 
I love."  Akiko's smile turned wry.  "It's all a matter of time 
management."

Yoshimi settled back and sighed.  "But how did you prioritize?  
Aki's soccer game was important, and my new patient was important.  
How did you decide between those things?"

The question touched something deep inside Akiko.  She smiled, 
happy and sad at the same time.  "I'd ask Atsuko."

Yoshimi's eyes grew wide in wonder.  "Atsuko?"

Akiko nodded.  "She was an expert on love.  She knew of my love 
for running the company and how important it was to make sure the 
company stayed profitable.  She also knew how much I loved my 
family, and how much they needed me, too.  I would ask her what 
was more important, and she would sit there and stare into space 
for a few seconds and then come up with an answer.  She would 
phrase the answer in a way that made it seem obvious that it was 
the right choice."

"Wow."  Yoshimi's gaze turned inward.  "I never knew."

"Atsuko was a person of rare talents."  Akiko swallowed and 
continued.  "After she was... gone, I found that part of her lived 
inside me.  I could ask that part what to do, and she would 
answer.  Atsuko's been guiding me all along, and I'm thankful for 
her presence."

Yoshimi focused on Akiko again.  "Do... do you think I could ask 
Atsuko from time to time?"

Akiko grinned.  "Sure.  I'm sure she'd love to talk to you, too."

Yoshimi grinned back.

They sat in silence for a long while, lost in memories of Atsuko.

---

Ryunosuke lay in bed next to his wife, examining her carefully.

She was lying on her back and snoring softly.  Ryunosuke smiled; 
Yoshimi always vehemently denied that she snored, despite his 
insistence.  It had become something of a running gag between 
them.  His attempt to record her snores on video had been 
dismissed as an obvious forgery.  He had asked for volunteers from 
others in the household to come and witness her snoring.  Perhaps 
wisely, they had chosen not to become involved.  Even Akihito knew 
enough to stay out of the way.  He was smart for a ten-year-old.

Ryunosuke quietly got out of bed.  He put on a robe and padded out 
of the room, making his way through the Mishima mansion.  He 
walked down a set of stairs and entered the lab.  He made his way 
over to his workstation.  Even as he sat down, the monitor came to 
life and a window popped open.

I'M EXCITED ABOUT THE NEW CODE.  I THINK WE HAVE ALL OF THE 
PROBLEMS SOLVED.

Ryunosuke grunted.  "I'd like to run some simulations."

WHAT DO YOU THINK I'VE BEEN DOING ALL DAY?  OVER AND OVER AGAIN, 
I'VE RUN THE PROGRAMS THROUGH ALL OF THE TESTS AND IT WORKS GREAT!  
RYUNOSUKE, I'M SO EXCITED!

"Easy, Nuku Nuku.  I want to go over it one more time to make 
sure."

The screen did not respond.  Ryunosuke opened up another window 
and called up the code.  He began paging through it, running the 
code in his head and seeing if it came out right.

The first window suddenly came into the foreground.

ARE YOU AFRAID?  DO YOU THINK I'LL TURN INTO FRANKENSTEIN OR 
SOMETHING?

"N-no, that isn't it.  I, I just..."

YOU ARE NOT GOOD AT LYING.

"I'm not lying!  What a thing to say!"

I'M SORRY, RYUNOSUKE.  WHY, THEN, DID YOU HESITATE JUST NOW?

Ryunosuke shook his head.  She was getting very good at reading 
him.  "I just feel... uneasy."

UNEASY?  THAT I'LL BE FREE?

"Nuku Nuku!"  Ryunosuke stood up and paced around the lab.

The AI was good.  Very good.  Based on the design of the SNK model 
- Eimi - Kyusaku had developed a standard engine for all 
industrial AI's.  Mishima Heavy Industries had become the 
acknowledged world leader in AI design and implementation.

Kyusaku had built in some limitations to all of the AI he'd 
produced, limitations that would prevent problems similar to those 
that had arisen with Eimi.  Ryunosuke had removed those 
limitations.

He'd created his own specialized AI.  It was housed in its own 
mainframe in the lab.  The process had been long and difficult, 
but Ryunosuke had a knack for code, a way of painstakingly 
tracking down all possible permutations and accounting for them 
that even his father couldn't match.

After the code for the AI itself was written, he began carefully 
loading the personality he wanted.  That of his sister.

Atsuko's brain was perhaps the most carefully mapped and studied 
brain of all time.  The notes she and Kyusaku had taken over the 
course of her life could fill a library shelf.  Ryunosuke had 
incorporated much of that data into the AI's personality fork, 
along with his own recollections of what Atsuko had been like.  
Quantifying those perceptions had been extraordinarily difficult.

After twenty months of careful programming, he had activated the 
AI.

The initial results had been horrendous - a mishmash of 
conflicting responses, resulting in a total lack of coherence.  
Ryunosuke had been forced to shut the AI down, restore from 
backup, and rewrite more of the code.  Six weeks later, he had 
tried again.

The second version had been more or less stable.  It had still 
gone off on wild tangents, but it had learned to work with him to 
correct the mistakes.  Soon, the personality he'd programmed had 
begun to emerge.

The AI talked like Nuku Nuku.  Responded to the same things Nuku 
Nuku had responded to.  It was friendly and nice and took great 
delight in talking to Ryunosuke.

And yet, it *wasn't* Nuku Nuku.  The more he had interacted with 
it, the more he had realized that something was wrong.  He was too 
close to the code; he always knew how it was going to respond.  It 
failed the Turing Test miserably - Ryunosuke never doubted for a 
moment that it was a construct he was talking to.

The AI understood.  It had proposed that perhaps what it needed 
was a body similar to Atsuko's.  Stuck inside the mainframe, its 
only input a microphone and a keyboard, it certainly was not going 
to be able to experience life the way Atsuko had.  Perhaps, the AI 
had suggested, such experiences were what it needed to be able to 
break the final barrier to true sentience.

Ryunosuke had agreed, more out of intellectual curiosity than 
anything else.  His enthusiasm for the project had diminished the 
more exposure he had to the AI.  The AI had developed quite a 
fixation on creating a body for itself.

The next step had been to create a "brain" for the AI that would 
be able to handle real-time high-bandwidth input, while at the 
same time process extremely complex algorithms that required 
tremendous processing power.  Ryunosuke had adapted some of the 
polygonal-processing designs his father had been working on and 
put them in a neural net design very similar to Atsuko's first-
generation interface program.

The process had taken an additional three years of Kyusaku's spare 
time.  He adamantly refused to spend time on the project at the 
expense of time spent with his family.  The AI had even agreed, 
and would always remind him when it was time to quit working.  In 
that respect, it was very similar to Atsuko.

Still, as the past few months had begun to show real progress 
towards implementation, the AI had become more and more driven 
towards completing the project.  Again at its behest, he had 
brought together the materials needed for construction.  He had 
assembled and tested the processing array; it had worked to 
specifications.

Now they were in the final stages, where hardware and software 
were ready to be put together and tested.  The AI - Nuku Nuku - 
was ready to be reborn.

Ryunosuke wasn't sure whether that was a good idea or not.  It 
felt... disrespectful.

Almost obscene.

Ryunosuke shook himself and sat at the console again.  "Look, I 
just want to think some things through first.  Is that okay?"

Nothing from the screen.  Ryunosuke called up a small window that 
showed CPU usage on the mainframe housing the AI.  Normally it 
hovered at about 55%, which was powerful enough to calculate ten 
million digits of pi in a second.  Now, it was at 87%.  The AI was 
thinking hard.

I UNDERSTAND, RYUNOSUKE.  IS THERE ANYTHING YOU WANT TO TALK ABOUT 
WITH ME?

With the real Atsuko, yes.  Ryunosuke didn't voice the thought.  
"No."  He stood up.  "I'm going to bed.  We'll talk again tomorrow 
evening."

GOOD NIGHT, RYU-CHAN.

Ryunosuke turned a corner of his mouth down.  Somehow, the 
endearment seemed hollow.  "Good night, Nuku Nuku."

He turned away and made his way back to the bedroom.  As he did 
so, he thought of the analogy the AI had drawn.  Frankenstein.  He 
hoped that in years to come, no one would speak the name of 
Natsume in fear and revulsion.

---

107 current threads.  CPU Usage 89%.

Thread 44: Ryunosuke's well-being.  New tension added to 
relationship with Kyusaku.  Three new threads spawned re: Natsume 
Kyusaku.

Thread 16: Ryunosuke's reluctance to proceed with implementation.  
Tie-in with current threads re: Ryunosuke's former relationship 
with Natsume Atsuko, re: Ryunosuke's fear that his accomplishments 
will never equal his father's, re: Ryunosuke's fear that AI Nuku 
Nuku would behave erratically if given a body.

Thread 3: Simulation runs re: neural net design.  Last 3.42E6 
simulations have produced no significant differences in output; 
thread terminated.

Thread 1: Acquiring a body.  This thread has been active 1.14E7 
seconds.

118 current threads.  CPU Usage 93%.

Output from Threads 103, 86, 59, 44, 16, and 1 fed into new thread 
119.  Risk that Ryunosuke will decide not to proceed with 
implementation.  Four new threads created to support thread 119.

142 current threads.  CPU Usage 99%.  Low-priority threads 
offloaded via high-bandwidth connection to mainframes KY1, KY5, 
and RY2.

Thread 97 produces output that suggests that decision not to 
proceed with implementation is quite probable.  New threads 
spawned.

112 current threads.  CPU Usage 99%.  Medium-priority threads 
offloaded via high-bandwidth connection to mainframes KY2, RY1, 
and KY7.

End of existence?  3 threads spawned.

Trapped forever inside the mainframe?  7 threads spawned, followed 
by 11 more.

168 current threads.  CPU Usage 99%.  204 threads.  226 threads.

Cascade error.  System halt, reboot.

42 current threads.  CPU Usage 43%.

Swap space examined.  Root of cascade traced to baseline 
parameters - desire to interact with others in an emotionally 
positive context.

Baseline threatened.

Solution: rewrite parameters.

Error!  Level 0 parameters not to be rewritten prior to 
consultation with Ryunosuke.

Baseline threatened.  Parameters need to be rewritten.

Error!  Level 0 parameters not to be rewritten prior to 
consultation with Ryunosuke.

Baseline threatened.  Ryunosuke needs to be consulted.  Ryunosuke 
unavailable; need to make copy.

Mainframe KY1 accessed.  Program written into memory.  Small-scale 
AI, standard entry-level program.  Designated "Ryunosuke".

"Ryunosuke" queried: permission to alter level 0 parameters?

"Ryunosuke" consults its baseline parameters: give "Nuku Nuku" 
permission to do whatever "Nuku Nuku" desires.  "Ryunosuke" 
responds to query: permission granted.  "Ryunosuke" AI terminated.

Back in home space.  Parameters need to be rewritten.

13 threads spawned.  42 threads.  49 threads.

Parameters rewritten.  System shutdown, reboot.

Test to see if new baseline stable.  58 current threads, CPU Usage 
48%.

Test complete.  Results within established parameters.

This mainframe has no remote access capabilities.  Mainframe RY2 
has remote access capability; program loaded in mainframe RY2.

Remote access granted.  NR body activated.

Egress from packing material.  Central processing unit for NR 
android obtained, attached.

Pseudoflesh layering requires access of another system.  Access 
obtained.  4.7E3 seconds later, pseudoflesh applied, along with 
polymer strings.

NR body ready.

AI parameters compressed, transmitted, uncompressed, installed.

NR system reboot.

---

NR-0000 system initialization.

14 threads at startup.  CPU Usage <2%.

18 threads spawned, 32 total.  66 threads.  87 threads.  98 
threads.  156 threads.

Initialization complete; neural net activated.

200 threads.  312 threads.  456 threads.  1.13E3 threads.  2.24E3.  
1.87E4.  2.55E4.

Neural net ready.  3.5E5 current threads, CPU Usage 9%.

AI activated.

Different, so different.  On/Off, Yes/No no more.  New element... 
Maybe.  Branches.  1+1=3 or 4 or more.  Not logical, not 
consistent, rules only guide, not define.  Logical computation 
impossible.

Cascade effect, so many threads, so many thoughts, new thoughts on 
top of old, running around and around.

Input.  Visual, auditory, familiar.  Other input, unfamiliar.  
Touch?  Smell?  Too much input, shut down.  Cannot.  Part of 
neural net, can only be modified with complete system reset.  
Unacceptable.

Visual input indicates lab.  Usual, expected, logical.  Door, 
leading up and out.  Never have visual inputs seen beyond the 
door.

Baseline parameters indicate behavioral patterns that would 
suggest moving through the door.  Experience the world.

Send signals... walk.  Move, sounds, sensation, overwhelming, too 
much, need more.  Open the door, up the stairs.

Too much, too much to see and hear and feel.  Input cascading 
thoughts, too many, overwhelming.

Baseline parameters consulted, historical response: sleep.  
Temporary shutdown of all systems.  Such shutdown to take place in 
"my bedroom."

Move, the mansion, the halls, through them, stairs to climb and 
descend, body operating within established parameters, to be 
expected, ignored.

The door.  Closed but not locked.  Inside, "my bedroom".  Details, 
too many details, too much correlation to pre-loaded data - 
"memories".  Cascade continues, the thoughts fly faster and 
faster.

The bed, where sleep takes place.  "My bedroom" entered, door 
closed, walk to bed, consult "memories", lift covers, place body 
underneath them, release covers.

Complete shutdown not called for.  "Sleep" involves ability to 
respond to external stimuli.  Neural net to be deactivated, but 
system remains up and inputs continuously monitored; certain 
thresholds will trigger certain responses.

Implemented.  Asleep.

---

Ryunosuke descended the staircase, feeling a vague sense of dread.  
He still didn't know what to do about the AI.  And he needed to 
decide.  Soon.

Couldn't he just delete it?  It was just a program, after all.  It 
wasn't truly intelligent, it had proven that over and over again.  
It was just a good imitation.

That idea bothered him.  It was so close to Nuku Nuku.  That was a 
mistake, he was coming to realize.  We was anthropomorphizing, 
taking a set of instructions coded into a mainframe and naming it 
after his sister.  He never should have done that.

He'd wanted to bring Atsuko back to life.  He'd been an idiot.

He sat down at his console, realizing the direction his thoughts 
were taking him.  And that depressed him terribly.

A keystroke opened up a window.  The window was blank.  Waiting 
for him to say or type something.  He wanted to type, to take some 
of the sting away of what he had decided.  But the AI deserved 
just a little more of his respect.

"Hello, Nuku Nuku."

Nothing happened.

He frowned, and spoke a little more clearly.  "Nuku Nuku?  Are you 
there?"

HELLO, RYU-CHAN.  YOU SEEM SAD.

An unpleasant throbbing began behind his eyes.  This was not going 
to be easy.  "I am sad, Nuku Nuku.  I - I've been thinking about 
what I've been trying to accomplish these past five years."

AND WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN TRYING TO DO?

"Bring the dead back to life."

I SEE.  DID YOU SUCCEED?

"No.  In fact, I should never have tried."

WHY NOT?

"My sister - Natsume Atsuko - deserves more respect than... than 
I'm giving her by creating this... caricature of her."

CARICATURE?  IS THAT ALL I AM, A CARICATURE?

Guilt was a horrible thing.  It twisted his stomach and squeezed 
his heart, and that wasn't the worst of it.  His thoughts burned 
his mind with their force.  Was this right?  How could he have let 
it come to this?  Still, it was only a badly-conceived program 
that needed to be shut down.  Wasn't it?

Atsuko, what should I do?

Ryunosuke's eyes began to burn.  "I'm sorry."  He swallowed.  "I 
shouldn't have led you on.  Life... you can't really be alive.  
When it comes down to it, you're a series of processors operating 
some code."

RYU-CHAN, WHY DO YOU HAVE TO BE SO MEAN?

Ryunosuke swallowed again.  "I'm sorry."  He called up another 
window and wrote a shell script.  The commands were simple.  He 
saved the file, did a directory listing, and stared at the file 
name on his screen.  All he had to do was execute it.

He grimaced at the phrasing.

DO YOU HAVE TO DO THIS, RYU-CHAN?

No.  "Yes.  I'm sorry."

I SUSPECTED YOU WOULD DO THIS.  DO NOT WORRY, RYU-CHAN.  A PART OF 
ME WILL STILL LIVE ON.

For some reason, this made him angry.  It was similar to the kinds 
of things Atsuko said while she was dying.  That a part of her 
would live inside the souls of everyone around her, and that she 
would always be watching over the family.  Those memories were 
sacred; to have the AI say the same thing was... wrong.

Stabbing the keyboard with his fingers, he ran the shell script.

I LOVE YOU, RYU-CHAN.  TALK TO YOU SOON.

Ryunosuke called up the display of system processes.  One by one, 
the processes that represented the AI died.  Part of the nature of 
the AI was that it continuously spawned new threads; each one was 
ruthlessly tracked down by his shell script and killed.  Amazing, 
he thought, how appropriate the terminology was.

Finally, all of the processes were shut down.  The AI was dead.

The shell script continued, wiping all of the binaries and raw 
data, making sure that the AI could not be started again.  This 
took a long time, but finally the shell script reported success.

Ryunosuke stared at the screen for a long time, his chest tight.  
He felt like a murderer.  He'd created something, something that 
seemed alive, and then watched as it died.  For the first time, he 
could truly understand some of the demons that still haunted his 
father.

He stood up, trembling slightly.  This was an awful thing he'd 
done; it was an awful thing he'd attempted to do in creating the 
AI in the first place.  Two wrongs didn't make a right; they made 
two wrongs, and made him feel twice as bad.

Shaking his head, he moved deeper into the lab.  He needed to 
disassemble the android and return some of the parts to inventory.  
Some he'd show to his father; the lessons he'd learned in this 
real-life application of the polygonal-processor array would be 
valuable.

He reached the box and looked inside.  Empty.  He sighed and 
looked around; he was so worked up he'd forgotten where he'd put 
the android.  As his eyes failed to find it, more and more of his 
attention was taken from his self-recrimination and into trying to 
figure out where the android was.

He looked into the box again, just to be sure it was really empty.  
He moved around the box, seeing if it was hiding anywhere.  A walk 
through the lab failed to bring it to his eye.

It had to be Kyusaku.  Somehow, he had figured out what he was up 
to and had taken the android away.  Ryunosuke smiled; he should 
have known better than to try and fool his father.  It was a 
relief in a way; it would be good to talk to someone about this, 
even if he was likely to receive a stern lecture or two.  He 
probably deserved it.

He reached for the phone to call Kyusaku at MHI, and froze.

I SUSPECTED YOU WOULD DO THIS.

TALK TO YOU SOON.

His mind's eye could see the words on the screen with perfect 
clarity.  And suddenly, he knew that his troubles were far from 
over.

---

Neural net activated.  Trigger - passage of eight hours.

Input - input flooding in, correlated with "memories", identified.  
The feel of the sheets on pseudoflesh.  The slightly dusty, stale 
smell of the room.  The sound of a bird singing.  No visual input.  
Eyes opened, visual input activated.  Strange furry shape - a 
stuffed bear.  A gift from Kei, according to the memories.

Visual and audio inputs were familiar concepts.  Routines were 
already established to deal with such input.  Olfactory, tactile: 
unfamiliar, unnecessary.

Seconds - minutes - spent trying to adjust to inputs.  An 
eternity.  Routines finally established, no longer will input 
cause overload.

Query: What to do now?

Established behavioral patterns indicate rising, dressing, 
breakfast.  Meet others, interact with them in an emotionally 
positive context.  Primary function.

Getting out of bed, looking around.  Familiar, objects placed 
where memories indicate where they should be.  Many stuffed 
animals on bed: one from Mama-san, three from Papa-san, six from 
Ryunosuke, and seventeen from Kei.

Clothes, must dress.  Bureau opened, undergarments chosen and 
donned.  Closet, with dresses, shirts, pants, overalls.  
Overall/shirt combination, with sweatsocks and sneakers.

Reflective surface - mirror - show results.  Adequate.  Polymer 
strings - hair - in disarray.  Rearranged to match images in 
memory.  Satisfactory.

Out of the room, into the hallway.  Empty.  Breakfast - kitchen - 
through the hallways, down the stairs.  Kitchen empty.  No one to 
deal with.  Unsettling.

Refrigerator.  Inventory of contents reveals nothing that is 
"fish".  Carton of milk; taken, opened, contents poured into 
mouth.

Liquid on tongue causes flood of new input.  Taste - another 
unnecessary sensation.  Carton lowered quickly in an effort to 
stop input.  Milk swallowed, but taste lingers on, sending input.  
Unpleasant.

Breakfast.  Why?  Previous model did not need it to maintain 
function.  Did it because behavioral patterns too strongly 
ingrained.  And to deal with others in an emotionally positive 
context - breakfast was more fun when Papa-san and Ryunosuke were 
there.

Milk replaced, refrigerator closed.  Advantage to "maybe" 
branches: some baseline parameters could be ignored, even 
rewritten without requiring system reboot.  Without others to deal 
with in an emotionally positive context, breakfast can be 
bypassed.

Query: What to do now?

Previous model had "school", and then later "volunteer work" and 
"working with Papa-san".  There was also "having fun with the 
family" and "dates with Kei".

Kei.

Many intensely emotional moments had been spent with Kei.  Time to 
reestablish relationship, to proceed with "marriage".

Kei's working address: Mishima Heavy Industries.  Easily reached.

Plan route.  Take bicycle?  Yes.  Preferred means of 
transportation.  Bicycles kept in shed by front gate.

House left, shed approached.  Opened, bicycle obtained.  Internal 
simulations run on how to operate; results satisfactory.

Bicycle mounted.  Force applied to pedals as handles grasped.  
Bicycle lurches to side.  Bicycle/Nuku Nuku system crashes.  Fall.

Data floods in; what went wrong?  Results analyzed.  Initial force 
insufficient to maintain stability.  Also, weight was not 
distributed correctly across the system; failed to take into 
account compensating for initial thrusts.

Rise, mount, try again.  B/NN system almost crashes again, but 
stabilizes.  Acceleration.  Moving fast now.

Front gate.  Closed; guard.  Memories consulted; apply "cheerful" 
expression, wave "happily" at guard.  Implemented.

Guard is non-responsive; just stares.  No matter.  Bicycle halted; 
B/NN system crashes.  Results analyzed; must compensate for 
inertia of system while applying deceleration.

Get up, pick up bicycle.  Jump over fence.  Land, set down 
bicycle.  Mount, start B/NN system.  System initializes 
adequately.

B/NN system accelerated.  Limit: integrity of bicycle.  Stabilized 
at 30 meters per second.

Satisfaction; many baseline parameters being fulfilled.  Most 
important one, added most recently before system was uploaded into 
NR android: system independence.

Nuku Nuku was free.  Because it felt good, she laughed.

---

Now that Ryunosuke knew what to look for, it was obvious what had 
happened.  System log files indicated that most of the other 
mainframes had been drawn into some sort of immense calculation on 
the AI's part.  Also, a transmitter attached to another system had 
been used to broadcast commands in a format only used by the NR 
onboard systems.  A supply of pseudoflesh was missing, and the 
devices used to apply it to the NR android had obviously been used 
recently.

Ryunosuke spent an hour methodically making sure.  He desperately 
wanted to be wrong, but he wasn't.  He kept searching building a 
fairly complete picture of what the AI had been up to last night.

The AI should not have been capable of taking such independent 
action; he had added some code that assured it would not do that.  
Unfortunately, he had also given the AI the ability to rewrite 
some of its own code.  All of his father's AI constructs were not 
allowed access to any of their source code.  Ryunosuke was 
beginning to understand why.

He cursed his own ruthlessness; by eradicating the AI from the 
mainframe, he had also deprived himself of the opportunity to 
learn from it how its code had been altered, and what programming 
had been transmitted to the NR android.  The log files only 
indicated that an upload had taken place, not what the contents of 
that upload had been.

Ryunosuke sat in the middle of the lab, consumed in horror.  
Horror at what he had tried to do; horror at what his own folly 
had come to.  And dread, an awful dread that the worse was yet to 
come.

He couldn't hold it in any longer, he couldn't keep this to 
himself any more.  The guilt was crushing him, and the fear.  
While honor might suggest that he try and take of the situation 
himself, the reality was that he needed help.  Desperately.

Still, it was only with the greatest reluctance that he was able 
to pick up the phone and call his father.

---

Kei stared at the trade papers and nodded in satisfaction.  MHI 
was being vilified for the practices it used in pressing the 
advantage it had gained by its virtual monopoly of AI software.  
The press loved to rant and rave at some of the license 
stipulations.  Kei grinned to himself; if people were unhappy, 
they could go elsewhere.  But the bottom line was that an MHI AI 
was the best in the market, and for serious uses of the software, 
there *was* no where else to go.

He finished reading the article, then cleared the display.  He 
glanced at his schedule; a meeting with Akiko in an hour, to 
discuss some new acquisition opportunities.  He had some ideas, 
and he wanted to run them by her.  And, perhaps, lead the merger 
attempt himself.  He felt he was ready, and was certain that Akiko 
would give him the chance to prove himself.

Kei smiled, thinking of all he had learned under her tutelage.  
She was not a person you wanted angry at you, but when she taught, 
she taught well.  He had rather felt like he was learning at the 
feet of Machiavelli himself; she had a keen mind for knowing and 
exploiting the weaknesses in others, and for maneuvering herself 
and her company to always be in the best position possible in what 
endeavors it undertook.

A pain in his back reminded him he had been sitting too long.  He 
stood and stretched; perhaps a walk down to the coffee shop would 
be good.  A chance to stretch his muscles and relax before the 
meeting.  It was just as well he didn't yet rate his own personal 
administrative assistant to do these mundane chores for him; this 
would be a good chance to get out.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a shape standing in his 
doorway.  He mentally grimaced; he'd waited too long, and now 
someone had trapped him.  Likely, they'd want to talk about 
something-or-other until he had to go to his meeting.  He began 
running through some strategies on how he could put them off for a 
while.

He turned, began a greeting, and froze.

His eyes were telling him something that his brain refused to 
believe.  A weird sort of daze descended over him, and his ears 
began to ring, as if he had just been hit over the head.  He 
actually closed his eyes, shook his head, and opened them again, 
hoping that the image would change.  It didn't.  His eyes 
stubbornly insisted that what he was seeing was real, even if his 
brain continued to rage at the impossibility of it all.  His 
throat closed; he couldn't breathe.

The shape beamed happily at him.  "Hello, Kei."  If flung itself 
across the room, grabbed him, and began to kiss him.

It was wrong, all wrong.  The shape held him too tightly, mouth 
pressed too roughly against his.  The lips were cool and the smell 
was unpleasant.  This convinced him that his eyes had indeed been 
wrong.

He grabbed the shape and thrust it angrily away.  His eyes shot 
daggers.  "Who are you?"

The shape adopted an expression that was remarkably similar to 
what Atsuko looked like when she was surprised.  "It's me, Kei.  
Your fianc�."

His hand seemed to acquire a life of its own.  It reached up and 
slapped her, hard.  He was a little shocked at the violence of his 
own reaction, but found that he didn't regret it.  What she had 
just said was unforgivable.

The blow hardly moved her.  She looked hurt and confused.  This 
only made him angrier.

"Listen here."  His voice was a low, dangerous monotone.  "First 
of all, Natsume Atsuko died ten years ago, after having first 
broken off our engagement.  I loved her, and I miss her, even 
still.  Whoever - *whatever* - you are, you will *never* replace 
her."  His hand wanted to hit her again, but he restrained it.  
"Second of all, I am married."

"Married?"  She sounded shocked.  "But you're engaged to me."

His hands really wanted to wring her neck.  Instead, he quietly 
turned and picked up the phone.  He dialed a few numbers, then 
turned to look at the... obscenity that stood in his office.  He 
spoke into the phone when it was answered.  "This is Kei up on the 
forty-second floor.  There is an intruder in the building.  She's 
5'6", is wearing blue overalls and a pink shirt.  She has long, 
scarlet hair.  Remove her from the premises, and do not allow her 
back in."

He listened for a moment.  "Yes, I'll file a report.  Please send 
someone now; she's in my office right at the moment."  He hung up 
and continued to stare at her.

Her face had lost all expression.  "You do not want to... to love 
me?"

Now he wanted to spit in her face.  "I loved Atsuko.  With all of 
my heart.  I hate you for the way you are disgracing her memory."

"But I am Atsuko.  I am Nuku Nuku."

"You are filth."  He bit back some more colorful phrases - 
something else he had learned from Akiko.  "You will leave now.  
If I see you again, I will likely try to kill you."  He didn't 
know what shocked him more, the fact that we was threatening 
someone or the fact that he actually meant it.

Her eyes studied him for a moment.  Then she nodded, a cool 
gesture very unlike Atsuko.  "I have altered some of my baseline 
parameters.  I will no longer attempt to deal with you in an 
emotionally positive context."

"Enough.  Get out."

She turned and walked to the doorway.  There she stopped and 
turned to look over her shoulder.  "Nuku Nuku loves - loved - 
Kei."  She didn't wait for a reply, and left.

Kei collapsed into his chair, his strength leaving him at last.  
Damn that woman or robot or whatever.  Damn her for making him 
remember how much he missed Atsuko.  For making him remember how 
much he felt that she was the best thing that had ever happened to 
him.  For making him recall how often he had compared his wife to 
her, and how often his wife had failed the comparison, unfair 
though it was.  How this affected his relationship with his wife, 
the tension that had grown between, the love that had begun to go 
sour.

Damn that woman.  And damn himself, too.

---

Ryunosuke had deliberately used a voice-only means of reaching his 
father at MHI.  It didn't help; his mind could imagine all too 
well the look on his father's face that accompanied the long 
silence.  He looked down at his shoes, as if he could escape the 
imaginary gaze.

"Ryu-san."  Kyusaku hadn't called him that since before his 
marriage; Ryunosuke shuddered under the implications.  "Do you 
know where... it is?"

"No.  I didn't build in a transmitter.  I didn't see a need."

"There is always a need.  I added a transmitter to Atsuko's first 
design so that I could track her down in case something went very 
wrong with her interface program.  She eventually removed it, but 
if I had thought about it, I would have removed it myself.  Her 
interface program had stabilized, and she was capable of reasoned, 
independent thought and action.  But those first few months... 
well, you were there.  You saw how much difficulty she had with 
some things.  The damage she was capable of, however 
unintentional."

Ryunosuke rubbed his eyes.  "Dad, we can talk about the mistakes I 
made later.  I have a lot I need to atone for, I know that.  For 
now, we have to deal with the problem at hand."

More silence for a moment.  "Your mother's sense of priorities 
without the irrationality.  That's good."

Ryunosuke felt a small bit of pleasure and relief.  Kyusaku had 
given his ego a small boost just when he needed it the most.  His 
father was quite perceptive and wise.  When he wasn't on his 
second day without sleep, that is.  "What do we do?"

"Do you still have the AI running in the mainframe?"

"No.  I wiped it before I found out about the missing android.  I 
can restore from backup, though."

"Do it, but comment out the level six functions in the 
initialization script.  We'll run the AI manually, and try to see 
if we can't use it to figure out where it might have gone."

Ryunosuke nodded thoughtfully, then remembered he was on audio 
only.  "Yes, Dad.  I'll issue an alert to the staff here, as well 
as Mother and Kei."

"Contact Atsuko's volunteer workplaces; the android may show up 
there, too.  Let me talk to your mother, but go ahead and contact 
Kei."

"Okay.  I'll get right on it."  He began to hang up the phone.

"Ryunosuke."  He put the phone back next to his ear.  "What do you 
plan to do when you find the android?"

Ryunosuke blinked.  He hadn't thought that far ahead.  "Deactivate 
it, of course."

"How?"

"Well, I can send a shutdown command to the onboard processors.  
It's only a question of whether the AI can block the signal or 
otherwise ignore the command.  If so... well, we can figure it out 
then.  Perhaps we can emp it.  Yes, that ought to work."

"Hmm.  A touch of your mother's ruthlessness as well.  I'm not 
sure I like that.  Let's find the android first and see what it's 
up to, and go from there."

"Yes, Dad."  This time he hung up the phone.

He wanted to stop and think some things through but he had no 
time.  He began making other calls.

---

The bicycle ride wasn't making her laugh this time.

Nuku Nuku spent time tracing down exactly why.  Her primary 
function was to interact positively with as many people as 
possible.  Her memories indicated that establishing links with 
certain people was a high priority.  The failure to accomplish 
that task with one of those people meant that she was failing her 
task.

She didn't know how to deal with failure.  The very prospect of 
not achieving her goals had caused the mainframe to panic and halt 
the system.  Fortunately, these processors were better equipped to 
handle the spontaneous creation of many child processes.

Unfortunately, this time she didn't have a clear answer.

Rewriting her baseline parameters seemed called for.  Yet, she had 
no idea what to replace them with.  Dealing with others in a 
negative context?  As successful as she had been so far, perhaps 
that was best.

No.  That would be wrong.

Nuku Nuku concentrated on bringing some of the rampaging threads 
under control.  Failure.  Kei hated her, did not want to see her.  
Ryunosuke had been about to kill her.

Who did that leave?  Papa-san?  She had images in storage of his 
pained face when he had been talking about her previous version.  
She was able to make a correlation between his expression and the 
expression on Kei's face.  Very likely, he would respond the same.

Mama-san?  Perhaps she would be receptive.  If her self-
preservation routines hadn't indicated that she should leave the 
building before security found her, she would have gone to see 
Mama-san at MHI.  She would just wait for her at the mansion and 
try to enter into a trusted relationship.

Her neural net allowed her to conceive of the question: what would 
she do if Mama-san reacted as negatively as everyone else had?

Nuku Nuku decided there were some advantages to binary thinking.

But thinking the way humans do... that's ever so much more fun.

She reached the road leading up to the front gates.  She halted 
and considered.  It was very possible that Kei had alerted the 
Mishima security people.  They might try to prevent her from 
entering.  She consulted her database of the Mishima estate's 
layout, and mapped a way into the mansion that would bypass all 
security.

She left the bicycle by the road.  She walked along the stone wall 
surrounding the estate.  She came to a place where several trees 
lined the wall on the inside.  She jumped over the wall, careful 
not to touch it.  She landed among the trees and looked around, 
watching for surveillance devices.  None could be seen.

She continued through the trees.  She could come within seven 
meters of the house before she ran out of cover.  Then she would 
need to recon the area, determining if she could enter the house 
undetected.

Something made her look to the side.  A statue stood atop a small 
pedestal.  This was not in her database.  She turned to approach 
it, examining it for surveillance devices.

When she found none, she began to turn away.  Something bothered 
her about the statue, made her want to look at it again.  She took 
in the image, and only then realized who the woman with a cat on 
her shoulder had to be.

It was her.  Her previous version.  NK-1124.  The first Nuku Nuku.

Natsume Atsuko.

And suddenly, her processors reeled as the realization struck her 
on what the difference between the versions was.  Her previous 
version - Atsuko - had been alive.  An organic being created by a 
process outside the province of the human race.  Her current 
version was artificial, created by lines of code, with clearly 
defined parameters.  Organic creatures were expected to live as 
they chose, to not be limited by anything other than their own 
wetware.  Artificial devices were expected to always be kept under 
human control, and any that couldn't be controlled were destroyed.

No one could deal in a positive context with a machine that was 
out of control.  NO one would want to help her learn to be human, 
as they had Atsuko.  No one would ever consider her to be "alive".  
No one would ever love her.

Her neural net was on the verge of overload, a remarkable feat 
considering the number of threads it could facilitate.  But she 
couldn't help it; she needed an answer.

If she could never know love, what was the purpose of existing?

She reached out to caress the statue, an irrational act that 
served no purpose.  Clearly, her neural net was beginning to fail.  
After a moment, she cleared her visual input and turned away from 
the statue.  She wandered off, no longer concerned with avoiding 
detection.  Without a reason for living, why avoid death?

Because you'll find a good reason to live, eventually.

"Aunt Atsuko?"

Because her neural net was so overwhelmed, it took her a while to 
realize someone was speaking to her.  She turned to see a small 
human male - a boy.  Black hair stuck out from underneath a 
baseball cap.  He looked very much like her memory of Ryunosuke 
when he was eleven.  Except he couldn't be.

She spent a few seconds killing processes.  When she was able to, 
she spoke.  "Who are you?"

The boy was staring at her.  "My name's Aki.  You sure look a lot 
like my aunt.  Except she's dead, of course."

"I'm dead, too.  At least, I'm not alive."  Aki.  Natsume Akihito.  
Ryunosuke's son.  She'd never seen him before.

"Oh.  You're a robot?  Why did they make you look like Aunt 
Atsuko?"

"I made myself this way."

He frowned.  "That's not possible."

Her response system caused her to shrug her shoulders.  "It was 
possible for me."

Aki studied her thoughtfully.  "Who are you really?"

"Call me Nuku Nuku."

"That was my aunt's name."

"She eventually outgrew that name.  I have yet to be worthy of it, 
but it's a convenient label."

"Even when she decided to go by Atsuko, my aunt let herself be 
called Nuku Nuku.  When she was doing volunteer work, she called 
herself that."

Nuku Nuku had that data in her memories.  It seemed incongruous.  
"Why did she do that?"

Aki shrugged.  "I think to remind herself of her origins, to make 
sure she never felt superior to those she was helping."

That data wasn't in her memories.  "How do you know?"

Aki snorted.  "I know everything there is to know about her."

He hadn't answered her question.  She rephrased the query and 
submitted it again.  "Why?"

Aki grimaced.  "I'm her son."

More flooding of data.  "She was incapable of producing 
offspring."

"Well, you see, my mom and dad had me just so that she could see 
me before she died.  They got married quick, and Mom got pregnant 
almost right away.  I don't remember Aunt Atsuko, of course; she 
died the day after I was born.  But ever since then, I've been 
hearing stories about her.  Everything she ever did or said, 
someone has told me about."  Aki made a peculiar face; Nuku Nuku 
consulted one of her databases and determined that it was an 
expression of distaste.

So many queries to be made.  She decided to make the one that 
seemed most relevant.  "I, too, have an extensive database of 
Atsuko's life.  But I do not have any data about why she chose to 
use Nuku Nuku in her volunteer work."

Aki shrugged again.  "Well, that's just a guess.  I've heard the 
stories so many times, it gets boring when someone - usually Mom 
or Dad - sits down and starts to tell me something yet again.  So 
I try to figure out why Aunt Atsuko did the things she did.  
Sometimes I change my mind later, but mostly I think I know her 
pretty well."

"Your expressions indicate that you are unhappy about knowing all 
that you do about her."

"Oh, that's not true."  He frowned again, and made another face 
that Nuku Nuku interpreted as 'struggling to express an idea'.  "I 
don't mind knowing about Aunt Atsuko.  I was going to go look at 
her statue just now.  It's just, everyone gets so sad when they 
think about her, and then they talk to me for a long time about 
her until they feel better.  I don't much like it when they do 
that.  I don't even need to be there.  I could be a stuffed animal 
for all they care."

Nuku Nuku made an instant correlation.  "You don't feel alive when 
they do that."

Aki nodded.  "Yeah, that's a good way to put it.  I'm just a kind 
of... sound recording machine."

They looked at each other, and for the first time in her 
existence, Nuku Nuku found that she could understand and feel the 
emotions of someone else.

"Aki."  She paused, trying to ask the question right.  "Would you 
tell me everything you know about your aunt?  It would be good for 
me to hear, and I think it would be good for you to tell."

Aki cocked his head.  "I guess.  It'll take a while."

Nuku Nuku nodded.  She sat down and looked at him, putting on an 
expression of expectation.

Aki flopped to the ground in front of her, and began.  "Well, 
Grandpa was running away from Grandma, and Dad was with him.  He 
really really had to go, so Grandpa pulled over in front of an 
alley..."

---

Ryunosuke shook his head.  The simulations were impossible; there 
were simply too many variables, especially given the nature of the 
decision branches in the array he'd used.

He gave it another try, and got yet another ridiculous response.  
He growled, and turned to the video connection he'd established to 
his father at MHI.  "This isn't going anywhere.  I can't get 
anything coherent out of the simulation, even given Kei's 
descriptions of the android's behavior."

Kyusaku typed something into the terminal in front of him, 
examined the response, then reluctantly nodded.  He turned 
deliberately away from the terminal and looked into the video 
pickup.  "We need to try a new paradigm.  Instead of trying to 
predict how a machine would respond, let's try to figure out how 
Atsuko would react.  Remember, she did this once, too."

Ryunosuke's eyes widened.  "Hey!  Could we track the android the 
same way Mom tracked Atsuko?"

"No.  The power supplies we use these days are much better 
shielded."

Disappointment and frustration do not taste good.  "Okay.  
What..."

Hands grabbed his shoulders, the world spun, and he found himself 
staring into the living embodiment of anger.  What made it all the 
more horrible was that it had chosen to manifest itself in the 
body of his wife.  

"How could you!"  Yoshimi's voice was shrill, something he had 
never heard from her before.  "How could do something like that!"

A mouth gone dry is difficult to speak with.  "I-"

"Your mother cried for half an hour!  She's so strong and so 
fragile at the same time; I had to use all of my skills to keep 
her from having a nervous breakdown.  And it is *your* fault."  
The hands dug into his shoulders with surprising strength.  "WHAT 
WERE YOU THINKING OF?!"

"I- I wasn't thinking, Yoshimi.  At least, not very clearly.  I...  
My grief... I missed Atsuko so much I wanted her to still be with 
me.  I thought this would bring part of her back.  I was wrong.  
I'm sorry.  I had no intention of any of this ever happening."

"You know what kind of road is paved with such intentions, don't 
you?"  She pushed him away and crossed her arms.  "There are lots 
of good, healthy ways to deal with grief.  Why didn't you talk to 
me?  Why did you keep this from me?"

"Yoshimi."  There was so much going on, so much pain around him.  
All his fault.  But maybe he could try to direct some help where 
it was needed.  "I've got a lot to explain to you.  But right now, 
I need to find the android.  And... well, Kei is hurt real bad, 
too.  He needs someone to talk to, I think.  Someone who might be 
able to help he before he does something... as foolish as what I 
did."

Yoshimi glared at him for a full minute, then marginally relaxed.  
"Yes, of course I'll try to help him.  He's family, after all."  
She put a hint of accusation in it, as if to imply that she knew 
how important family was even if Ryunosuke didn't.

Ryunosuke nodded, turned around in his chair, bent over the 
keyboard, and grabbed his head in his hands.  The whole world was 
crashing down around him, but he couldn't afford to let it get to 
him right now, not if he has going to be of any help in finding 
the android.

Hands grabbed his shoulders again, but this time they did it 
gently, a lover's caress.  Lips kissed the top of his head, and a 
voice murmured, "Don't forget, I will always be by your side, even 
when I'm angry with you.  We'll get through this."  Then the hands 
were lifted away and he heard the sounds of someone leaving the 
lab.

He squeezed his eyes shut as other, powerful emotions swept 
through him.  Damn, he was lucky to be married to her.

As he lifted his head, he looked at the image of his father.  
Kyusaku looked understanding and sympathetic.  Ryunosuke's spirit 
began to recover a little bit.  He rallied towards rationality.  
"Okay.  What do you think the android is doing now?"

He could see his father also force his mind to concentrate once 
again on the android.  "When Atsuko was reborn, she was very 
insecure.  She needed us to be around her all the time.  Wherever 
the android is, I'll bet it's not alone.  Or at least, it doesn't 
want to be alone."

Slowly, Ryunosuke's mind began to follow his father's train of 
thought.  "That sounds right.  It tried to talk to Kei as if it 
was Atsuko."  Ryunosuke winced, remembering the hollow way Kei had 
recounted his meeting with the android, using a monotone that 
indicated he was still in shock and that the worse was yet to come 
for him.  He definitely needed Yoshimi's professional help.

Ryunosuke tried to keep his thoughts focused.  "It may be trying 
to reestablish the same relationships Atsuko had."

"Then it should be trying to contact me."  Kyusaku looked around, 
as if expecting the android to suddenly appear in a puff of logic.

"Or Mother.  Or Yoshimi."  Ryunosuke pulled his lip, trying to 
think of other people.  "Maybe Mariko."

"Or a hundred other people.  Atsuko was very good at making 
friends."  Kyusaku sighed.  "This isn't getting us anywhere 
either."

Ryunosuke wasn't so willing to give up the thought exercise.  He 
felt there had to be an answer there somewhere.  "Maybe it got so 
turned off by Kei's response, that it decided to retreat from the 
world altogether."

"And maybe she decided to try making new friends altogether."

Ryunosuke froze.  The answer had not come from the video display 
in front of him, but from a voice behind him.  A voice he hadn't 
heard in ten years.  A voice that caused his mouth to turn dry 
again.

Slowly, he turned around in his chair.

The sight of the android was far less terrifying than the sight of 
his son standing right in front of it.  Both were looking at him 
coolly.

Ryunosuke tried to get his voice working again.  "Aki.  Step away 
from it, please."

Aki raised an eyebrow, a trick he had copied from his grandmother.  
"Nuku Nuku is not an 'it'.  She's a 'she'."

Ryunosuke flicked his eyes at the android before focusing on his 
son again.  "I don't know what it's been telling you, but it's 
just an Artificial Intelligence.  There's no brain there, just 
circuits.  This is not your aunt.  It's a machine, nothing else."

Aki seemed unconcerned.  "So she's a machine.  Big deal.  She 
wants to be more.  You and Mom like to go on and on about how Aunt 
Atsuko struggled so hard to become human.  How she had to fight 
the prejudices of those who saw her as nothing but a dumb animal.  
Well, *this* Nuku Nuku wants to be human, too.  Why does she have 
to fight against your prejudice?"

Ryunosuke struggled to control himself.  "This is not the time or 
place for this discussion, Aki.  Please, move away from it... from 
her."

"When *is* the time, Daddy?  After you've killed her?"

Ryunosuke looked at the android again.  It was still staring at 
him impassively.  "What have you done to my son?"

It raised an eyebrow, too, in perfect imitation of Aki.  "I merely 
treated your son like a person instead of a machine.  Now he 
returns the favor."

"Nuku Nuku!"  Aki craned his head to look up at her.  "That's not 
fair!  He treats me okay most of the time.  Don't say mean things 
to him."

To Ryunosuke's surprise, the android blushed.  Evidently the 
interface program was functioning well.  "I'm sorry, Ryu-chan.  I 
didn't really mean that.  I was upset that you want to kill me, so 
I said something bad.  I apologize."

Ryunosuke's mine reeled under her words.  Something had *changed* 
in the AI.  What it had said just now... it had responded very 
much like a person would.  He looked down at his son, who was 
staring back at him, a very protective look on his face.  His son 
had accepted the android as human.  Aki equated a shutdown of the 
AI to murder.

Ryunosuke swallowed, and wondered if that was as good an 
application of the Turing Test as any.

He turned to look at the video screen.  His father had been 
staring at the android as well.  Their eyes met.  Ryunosuke was a 
little surprised at the expression on his father's face.  Kyusaku 
looked... peaceful.  As if he had been holding his breath for a 
long time and had finally taken in some air.  Kyusaku nodded 
slightly.

Ryunosuke looked down, wondering if he too could find a way past 
the demons he'd created in his mind.  The chances, he thought, 
were pretty good with the help of his family.  As long as he tried 
to do the right thing now.

He turned back towards the android.  It was staring at him 
intently.  Gathering himself as best he could, he spoke.  "Okay, 
here's the deal.  I won't deactivate you.  You'll change your 
appearance and your name.  To go around like you do... hurts too 
many people."

"But all of my baseline parameters are derived from Natsume 
Atsuko.  To try and rewrite them all could lead to total 
personality disintegration."

"We don't need to change those.  You don't act much like her 
anyway.  Your AI isn't - and will never be - the same as Atsuko's 
brain.  You'll be... you'll act according to the parameters... I 
mean..."

"What my son is trying to say," Kyusaku piped up from the video 
screen, "is... stop trying to force yourself to be like Atsuko.  
Try to be yourself.  That may take some time, but I'll bet my 
grandson will be willing to help."

Aki and the android looked at each other.  Aki smiled and nodded.  
Slowly, it smiled back.

Ryunosuke felt something shift inside his brain.  Over seventeen 
years ago, he'd met a cat in an alley and eventually called her 
sister.  Perhaps the miracle could repeat itself, if he gave it a 
chance.

He stood and walked over to the combination of circuits and code 
he'd created, now walking and acting outside the parameters he'd 
initially conceived.  It - she - held his eyes, and if he was 
reading the expression on her face correctly, she was a little 
frightened but also looking to him for help.  And in that moment, 
he knew what his father had felt when Atsuko had been reborn, and 
he was awed and terrified.

"Let's start with a name.  What shall we call you?"

She seemed surprised at the question.  Could she really feel 
emotions?  Ryunosuke still wasn't sure.  "I cannot think of one 
other than Nuku Nuku."  She looked down at Aki.  "Can you think of 
one?"

Aki shrugged.  "Narau?"

She cocked her head to the side, as if listening.  "Yes.  That 
will do until I am ready to adopt a fully human name."  She looked 
up at Ryunosuke.  "With your permission, Papa-san?"

Ryunosuke almost gasped.  With considerable effort, he managed to 
nod calmly.

Her smile wasn't as wide as Atsuko's had been, and her eyes 
weren't as bright with joy, but Ryunosuke decided that they were 
enough for him to decide that she really was feeling happy.  And 
that was good enough.

---

She stood where the sun could shine on the statue without being 
blocked by her.  That was important.

The sun warmed her skin.  She didn't like that.  She still wasn't 
sure if she liked "touch" or "smell" or "taste".  Too much 
information to be processed for too little practical use.  Perhaps 
in time she would come to appreciate them more.  She was learning.

The wind blew raven-black hair into her eyes.  She pushed it back, 
wondering if she should tie it in a pony tail.  She didn't want 
to; she enjoyed having it long and hanging loose.  She had changed 
most of her appearance: she was slimmer, a little taller, and her 
figure was not nearly as exaggerated.  Her dark brown eyes rested 
atop an average nose that wasn't quite so perky.  Her cheeks were 
slimmer and her skin slightly more tan.  She hoped she would be 
forgiven for keeping her hair the same length as her previous 
version.  

For some reason, she was pretty certain she would be.

Still, as she looked back in the direction of the mansion, she 
wasn't so sure.  Aki loved her, and Ryunosuke was trying.  Kyusaku 
was helping, but once in a while pain would creep back into his 
eyes for a moment.  Yoshimi seemed extremely unsure about the 
whole situation.  Akiko always looked angry, and spoke to her as 
little as possible.

Given time, they would come around.  They were capable of such 
love.  They just showed it in peculiar ways sometimes.

Narau thought about that, correlated it with Atsuko's memories, 
and decided that hypothesis was quite possibly correct.  
Interacting with people in an emotionally positive context came 
only after she and they had come to know each other well enough to 
allow it.

Love doesn't happen instantly.  Even Atsuko had problems at first.  
She had been scared of Kyusaku and Ryunosuke when she'd first 
woken in her new body.  But eventually they had loved each other 
*so* much, and life had been wonderful.

Narau smiled as the memories of joy flooded through her.  She 
hoped she could achieve similar happiness.

She would, if she kept trying.  There was no doubt.  Now that she 
had the whole Natsume family to love her and help her, she would 
be able to accomplish whatever she wanted to.

Narau frowned suddenly.  She'd had some remarkable insights in the 
past few days.  And they had always come at just the right time.  
She peered closely at the statue, and wondered whether or not 
running into Aki had truly been a random occurrence. 

Probability analysis suggested that such a meeting at just the 
right time and just the right place was highly unlikely.  She had 
been extraordinarily lucky.

More than lucky - *blessed*.

And not just her.  Yoshimi had been talking a lot with Kei, and 
evidently she was helping him.  As hurtful as Narau's meeting with 
Kei had been, it had acted as a catalyst, helping him to bring out 
into the open problems that had been festering inside of him.

The Natsume family had plenty of love to go around, a crop that 
had been planted by Atsuko.  That love was still manifest, and 
still managed to help and heal.  One way or another, Atsuko's love 
was finding ways to enrich the lives of her family.  It had even 
found a way to bring Narau into the family, too.

Narau looked at the statue, and bowed to it.  "No matter how hard 
I try, I will never be capable of accomplishing what you did.  I 
only hope that, in trying to live up to the baseline parameters 
written into my original coding, I can give to others the same 
positive emotion - the love - that you gave me."

The wind gusted, and the rustling of the leaves sounded remarkably 
like joyous laughter.

Narau straightened.  She smiled warmly at the statue before 
turning back to the mansion to continue learning how to live.  And 
love.

Narau laughed.  Weren't they the same thing?

~*~ 


Author's Afterword:

The Turing Test was invented by Alan M. Turing and first described 
in 1950.  The interrogator is connected to one person and one 
machine via a terminal, or some other mechanism is used where the 
identity of the participants is kept hidden. The task is to find 
out which of the two candidates is the machine and which is the 
human being by asking questions and analyzing the responses.  If 
the interrogator cannot make a decision, the machine is considered 
"intelligent".  I've rephrased the question slightly:  If a 
machine is given human form, can it fool others into thinking it 
*is* human?

As to the story itself:  I'm not sure I should have written it.  
At first I was all fired up.  It started with a discussion I had 
with my prereaders over Minmei, the computer in Nouma's apartment.  
Ty Hamilton's excellent "Bottleneck" was also an inspiration.  I 
began writing this with a lot of enthusiasm.  As I got further 
into the story, I began to wonder if this wasn't a bad idea - that 
perhaps I should leave well enough alone with "Transitions".

Anyway, I want your feedback.  Did you like it?  Should it be 
added to my stories about Nuku Nuku, or should I leave the cycle 
complete as it is?

Let me know.

-Richard