Artificial Intelligence

By Charles Xavier And Kittie

I wander thro' each charter'd street
Near where the charter'd Thames does flow.
And mark in every face I meet
Marks of weakness, marks of woe.

- William Blake

Rain fell with a steadying pace, as the city streets were crowded by oblivious minds, cars and other mechanical means of transportation overran roads. The pouring rain also pelted skyscrapers and other notable buildings, their foreboding grey structures harbouring a distant sense of apathy.

Of course, no one seemed to notice the architectural emotion of the city. Actually, one could see it as the epitome of despair. Sunlight was a rare occurrence within city limits. Most argued that it was because of the city's location being so close to the sea. Either way, rain and violent storms were the usual forecast.

Since its humble establishment, close to a century later, Midgar—named after the mythical Middle garden—was one of the most influential cities on the planet. Technology was at its climax, the knowledge of man increasing with each passing day.

Other cities depended heavily upon Midgar's influence with trade and commerce. If the city were to fall, the rest of the world would follow in its demise. For years, the city convinced smaller capitals that they would not survive without its exchange in commerce and protection.

In the end, Midgar became the center of trade—where all life consisted. With this idea, most of its inhabitants considered other nations to be below their standards, the invisible arrogance and pride could be severed with a knife.

Nevertheless, the city was needed for the rest of the world to survive, even if it aided it with ill intentions. The Shinra, although nothing more but a power company, held its sway over the city officials. In theory, they were the leaders. For the past five decades the Shinra ruled the city like a monarchy. Of course, no one seemed to care—their own meager lives were their only concern, not the rest of the world.

It was human to care only for one's self. And like other empires, this too, would fall. The bitter irony was somewhat humorous to those who revelled in morose depictions of the future. Even a machine could find humor in the downfall of man.

Grey eyes watched the myriad of bodies pass by, their minds filled with mindless conjectures of frivolous pleasure. It was common to observe other bask in the artificial ways of escape; drugs and alcohol proved to be most consolidating. Another drop of icy rain struck her pale cheek, the stinging effect not distressing her. Rain was like sunlight to her, not offending or important enough to recognize. Actually, the rain was like the souls passing by, oblivious to everything, except to what they meet.

Humanity was dull.

The thoughtful conclusion, however, did not aid her on her quest. Her friend was somewhere in this godforsaken city, and she would sift through every street, alley, and walkway, to find her. Pity, that she had the slightest idea where to look.

The last correspondence between them was dated four years ago, and someone new was living at the address. The new occupants were of little help, not to mention discourteous. Were all humans so disgusted of their creations? She wondered. It would be a fitting punishment to have them in a machine's place—the tables turned would certainly put a dent in man's theology.

She made her way through the congested crowd of bodies, seeing a possible means of finding her friend. A glass telephone booth stood on the corner of the next street. Shaking her waterlogged hair, she crossed the precarious road, and eyed the booth.

The glass was cracked one side, while the others were covered with profanity and semi-detailed pornographic images, painted in flamboyant shades of orange and red. The disturbing features did not addle her. She did not cringe at the offending words and gestures—some she had never seen before—or the senseless depictions of the human body. Really, some minds could only develop so far.

Pulling a tattered book from the small metal shelf, she fumbled through its yellowed pages. Her dull, grey eyes skimmed through various names until it rested upon one very familiar.

Lockheart.

Her sable brows pursed together at the name. Instead of the first name being Tifa, it was Anne. Strange. She glanced at the other names, in hopes of another Lockheart. Much to her dismay, the mysterious Anne Lockheart was the only one that was listed.

Her mind searched for a possible answer. Tifa would not change her name, would she? If her memory served her, her friend prided herself on the name she was given, albeit it was certainly different from other names in the village. Tifa would not change her name unless she had a reason to.

She would pay a visit to this Anne Lockheart. Perhaps she would be useful in finding Tifa. If not, she would continue her search. Either way, she had nothing to lose, or go home to.

With a brief nod, she closed the ragged phonebook and placed it back on the metal shelf. Closing the flimsy glass door behind her, she glanced at the grey heavens. Shaking her head in silent dismay, she made her way down the busy street, silently rebuking herself for not having the information she needed. It was truly an eventful day in a city, which smelled like a sewer and felt like a joyous day in Hell.

Life could not be any better.

****

"You mean to tell me that this is all you have?" The Shinra president tossed a worn file folder to the side. "There's nothing in this that I don't know!"

"Sir, we took everything from Kisaragi's home—his archives, his personal files, everything. We left nothing unturned."

Rufus clenched the side of his jaw in an impatient gesture. "Tseng, I expected better from you. It appears that I was wrong to appoint the Turks to handle a simple mission." He watched Tseng flinch from his harsh reprimand. "It seems that, although you have discarded your Wutainese heritage, the same, flawed idiocy runs in your veins."

Tseng held back an innate objection to his benefactor's cruel remark. Mentally cursing himself, he nodded and stayed silent.

"Since I'm in a gracious mood, I will give you one more chance to find the truth behind Kisaragi's work." His unnatural aqua eyes narrowed, silently unnerving his personal assassins. "Don't fail me again."

"It shall be done, sir." Tseng bowed in a curt manner and made a graceful exit, before his employer could see his composure collapse.

The enormous doors closed loudly behind him, as if warning of the consequences from another failure. The antagonized leader placed his thumb and forefinger to his temples, and for a brief moment, displayed a shred of weakness. "This is the prelude to a nightmare," he muttered to himself.

"Ya think?" Reno smirked. "Shinra will not stop until the entire world its kissing its—"

"Reno, I don't want to hear it." Tseng cut in and moved his hand in a weary gesture. "Let's just get this mission completed as soon as possible. Remember, it is our ass and also our jobs on the line. Don't forget what Shinra did to the last Turk that failed them."

Reno rolled his eyes. "Like we could forget? Come on what was that bastard's name again?" He scratched his head in mock-derision. "I fail to remember such a simple name…"

"It's not to be said, idiot." Elena pinched his arm.

"Woman! Do that again and I'll—"

"Reno!" Tseng eyed him with cruel intent. "Act of line again and I will not hesitate to shoot you."

"Yes, sir." He muttered under the warning, his gaze cast shamefully to the floor. "It will not happen again."

Tseng turned his attention to Rude. His obsidian eyes sought comfort behind the dark shades. Truthfully, Rude was the only other Turk that held a fraction of sense—well with the exception Elena, of course. But she was not a man.

"Rude, I want you to find out if there was anything we could have overlooked. Family members—even distant ones—medical records, anything. I don't care if it's the slightest piece of information about Kisaragi, or the people who knew him. I want you to find out everything this man interacted with."

The tall, silent Turk nodded his bald head in agreement. "I will have everything you require in the given time."

A faint smile traced the leader's gaunt lips. "I know you will."

Tseng acknowledged him in silence and turned his attention to Reno. "As for you, I want you to make all of the preparations for an extending stay in Wutai. Make sure everything is in order when we arrive; I don't want to go through another bout of customs again."

He did not wait for his comrade's opinion. Instead, he set his dark gaze on Elena. "Elena," he muttered, a small smile resting in the corner of his lips. "Would you please assist me with the rest?"

"Certainly, sir. I—I would love, that is, honoured to." She smiled, stumbling over her words.

"Good. I will see you after work—we have much to do."

He did not wait for her reaction. Instead, he left them in the hall, silently questioning his arcane orders. Three sets of confused eyes stared at the descending back of their leader, a foreign exchange of confusion sent between them. Their leader was acting odd as of late. The question remained why.

Reno was the first to break the impenetrable silence. "Well, it seems like Tseng has everything under control—as always." He cast a sceptical look at Elena. "Business meeting after work, Lena? I somehow must doubt that, even though it pangs me to." He clutched his chest in a mocking manner. "But, I'll be damned if I don't act the gentleman and not go further."

"Reno," chocolatey eyes glared with malice. "Someday you'll wake up and realize that the world does not revolve around you, and that all of your petty attempts of making a joke will backfire. I just hope some irate victim will not take away the one thing you cannot live without"—she glanced mockingly below his waistline—"the one thing most important to you—or that is to say, what little you have working for you."

With that, she turned on her heel and left them, a merry bounce in her step.

"She doth make the torches burn bright!" Reno smirked with benign delight. He slid a wry glance to his brooding companion. "She's got it bad."

A traitorous sigh escaped Rude, as he pinched the bridge of his nose with a thumb and forefinger. "Do you really find it necessary to unnerve everyone? Really, I thought you would find pleasure in something other than upsetting people."

"Oh, come on, Rude! Without out my sense of humour, this drab, little group would pass for pallbearers. Without laughter, what would there be to live for? I mean sure it's fun to bust a cap in someone's ass, kidnap an important person, or what-have-you, but it gets old. And I refuse to have a bug up my ass like Tseng does. Rufus practically wipes the floor with him, and he says nothing!"

"Maybe it's because Rufus will have second thought to ending his life if he does? Reno, unlike you Tseng has a responsibility. You don't have to answer to Rufus as he does, nor do you have the obligations he has. Without Tseng's constant passiveness, we wouldn't have an occupation. It would be wise to understand that."

Reno snorted at Rude's reprimand. "I grow tired of being lectured like a child, Rude. Let's do something constructive for a change—getting drunk is always a good idea before travelling."

"Women and alcohol are the only things on your mind." He glared at his cocky companion through his shaded lenses.

"Lead me not into temptation—I can lead myself! Come on, the first drink is on me." He offered with a semi-sincere smile.

Against his better judgment, Rude conceded. He knew if Tseng were to find out, there would be hell to pay, but he wouldn't—not since he would keep his friend on the straight and narrow path of not obtaining a hangover before they departed for the sunny shores of Wutai.

With a sigh of derision, he nodded and followed Reno down the empty corridor, knowing that a drink welcomed him before heading back to a hellish, desolate place filled with nothing but canyons, pagodas, and dilapidating statues of useless gods. It was such a pleasure to visit Wutai at any time of the year—the boredom would at least keep him company.

****

The pockmarked lime-green door was disconcerting. Actually, the matted carpet in the hall, the defaced white walls, and cracked windows were truly the apartment complex's main attraction.

Yuffie stared at the idle door with a blank expression. She glanced at the metal numbers on the door; the rust encasing what was once considered a shiny hue of gold. The numbers matched that of the address in the phonebook. Certainly the mysterious Anne Lockheart lived behind this poor excuse of a door.

Without hesitation, she lightly knocked upon its craggy surface. Her bland expression did not change to one of irritation, nor did it fade to impatience.

Silent moments passed by as she stood expectantly in front of the door. If she had to wait until Ms. Lockheart's return, she would without censure. She had patience when the wait would benefit her in the end. Hopefully, this was not another dead end to countless roads.

She had far to go; she knew that. But time was not on her side—not anymore. Her father's ill warning was at the center of her thoughts; the idea of death was not acceptable—not even to a machine. The idea of no longer functioning, no longer being in existence, was disturbing. Not to mention damn well annoying. Machines were supposed to surpass the lifespan of a human, and then some.

The sound of screeching hinges shattered her thoughts. Her cerulean eyes focused upon a lovely heart-shaped face.

"Hello." A pretty young lady asked with a warm smile.

Yuffie stared at her with her expressionless eyes. "Is this the Anne Lockheart residence?" She asked in monotone.

Anne's eyebrows pinched together in suspicion. "Yes? Can I help you?"

"Do you know a Tifa Lockheart, by chance?"

The woman's warm smile faded, her lips turning to an icy line. Her deep brown eyes widened, as her face paled. "Who are you?" She demanded in a harsh whisper.

"Yuffie Kisaragi, daughter of Godo—"

"My God, get in here!" She ordered, and pulled her unexpected guest through the door.

Yuffie watched as the frantic, young woman quickly shut the door and bolted it. She watched her pace back and forth in a frenetic movement. Her proprietor's gaunt hands clasped together and settled under her chin. "Impossible," she muttered under her breath. "Damned impossible."

She turned her chocolatey gaze upon Yuffie with question. "It can't be, can it?" She shook her head in disbelief.

"Ms. Lockheart, do you know someone by the name of Tifa?"

"Of course I do! She's me!" She exclaimed and narrowed her eyes. "However, if you are who you say you are, then why are you here, Yuffie?"

"Tifa." She asked emotionlessly. "You looked familiar. You are older and taller, but the same nonetheless. Yuffie cannot believe you are still Tifa, though."

Her warm smile returned, and her suspicions faded. "I cannot believe it's you! God, how long has it been, five, six years? Why are you here? Does Godo know you're gone? Why didn't you contact me before you came?" Tifa bombarded her childhood friend with myriad questions.

"Five and a half years. Godo is dead, he was murdered by a group of assassins." She watched her friend's warm smile meld to a frown of sympathy. "Godo sent Yuffie on a mission to find a way to become human, before time runs out and Yuffie dies. Your address was not the same as it was. Someone else lives where you used to now."

Tifa clicked her tongue in mock-disbelief. "Yuffie, you were always to the point. I'm sorry about your father, it must be hard for you to accept his death."

"Death comes to all humans, it will happen to you as well. Acceptance is the only way to understand the concept behind it. Without acceptance, one cannot move on, and will dwell in utter doubt and disbelief."

"Yuffie," Tifa began, silently putting aside her friend's morose belief. "What do you mean by becoming human? You are a machine. Machines cannot become living organisms. I thought you understood that."

"Yuffie understood perfectly well, but was apparently wrong in that respect. Godo said that the only way to survive was to become human, and Yuffie must find a way before time is up."

"Time is up? What do you mean when time is up?"

"Yuffie will die." She ended without a hint of sadness.

Tifa's mouth opened in disbelief. "That's impossible! You cannot die; you're a machine! Machines are not like humans, Yuffie."

"Yuffie knows that." She answered in a hauntingly calm voice, her cerulean eyes boring into Tifa's. "But, there are factors behind the life of a machine. In Yuffie's case, Godo constructed a new body each year, so there would be no suspicion behind Yuffie's existence, and transferred all previous memory and data into the new body. He created a special formula to ensure everything worked properly. This formula will only last for one year.

"After the year comes to an end, a new formula—and body—must take its place. Otherwise, the body would no longer function, and actions will cease. Yuffie will die if this happens."

Tifa did not hide her concern, as hot tears escaped her eyes. "Oh, Yuffie, I'm so sorry. I did not know that this would happen. I always thought… Never mind, you'll stay here until we can figure out a way to help you." There was finality in her voice.

Yuffie nodded in concurrence. "Yuffie thanks you, Tifa. You are truly Yuffie's friend."

"Come on," Tifa said, wiping the tears from her face. "I'll show you around the apartment. I know it's nothing like what you're used to, but Midgar is not quite like Wutai. Space is not available, more's the pity." She gave a chuckle filled with irony.

This was not a dead end, after all. She thought happily. Now that she found her friend, perhaps there would be a good chance to fulfil her promise to her father and become human.

With that thought in mind, she considered the aspects of being human. It was common to cry, to feel pain. Anger, happiness, desperation were customary in the everyday day life of a person. Pain was also a gift humans could only feel—machines did not have that luxury.

On the other hand, would becoming human be such a wonderful thing? There were many negative features that humans endured everyday, like starvation, depression, grief over the death of a loved one. She did not know what it felt like to cry, she didn't over her father's death.

She forced the traitorous thoughts aside; her promise to her father would be kept—no matter the consequence. Even if she accepted a short life filled with pain, she would bear it without complaint. It was the least she could do for her father. "And this can be your room," Tifa murmured, breaking her thoughts.

"Thank you, Tifa." She observed the small, messy guest room—if it could be called that. "Yuffie appreciated everything you have done."

Tifa looked at her with guilt. "I haven't done anything, Yuffie. I should have been there for you. I should have kept in touch with you." She cursed under her breath. "Damn it, friends don't abandon friends, and I have. Yuffie, please forgive me."

Yuffie gazed into Tifa's pleading eyes. "Yuffie forgives you, even though there is nothing to forgive."

Her friend made a rueful sound. "There is much to forgive, and much to catch up with. I want to know everything you've done in the past four years. Come on, we'll talk over some tea."

"Yuffie does not drink tea."

"Oh, sorry, forgot about that. I'm not used to guests not eating or drinking, you know. Well, at least have a seat, you must be tired."

She was about to object to her friend's conviction, but decided against it. It was actually good to see a familiar face after all she had endured within the past week. A light conversation over trivial matters seemed…welcoming, almost expected. Perhaps, this was also another humanly trait. Perhaps, becoming human would not be so difficult after all.

Either way, she had less than a year to accomplish this in. The clock was ticking, and unfortunately, time was not on her side.

How ironic.