Chapter 2:

Debriefing

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"...And that's exactly what happened. Since the program has already been run, Zima and I concluded that destroying the persocom Chii would have been pointless, and so we allowed her to continue functioning while we left to regroup. Zima believes that Professor Mihara's program was simply a set of emotional responses intended to allow persocoms to experience genuine happiness, though I have my doubts about how well it actually performs its function. Ultimately, we determined that Chii was no longer dangerous, and that the program that she carried does not pose any immediate threat to persocoms or their users."

Dita finished her report in the same calm, efficient manner as usual. There were only two things out of the ordinary this time. First, the monitors to which Dita was connected were showing a great deal more activity than usual; and second, the chair next to hers in which her counterpart, Zima, usually sat, was empty.

"Well," said Director Mamoru Murakami, head of the Iridium Syndicate's R&D department, "that all sounds perfectly wonderful. But just where, exactly, is your counterpart?"

Dita struggled to keep her face as impassive as always, but the computer monitors beside her showed her internal conflict as several screens' worth of operating code suddenly flashed across. "I ... I don't know. Zima expressed dissatisfaction with his role as a combat persocom. I believe that the program may be overriding his behavioral functions, so he may not even intend to return to the lab. From what he was saying before I left, he seemed fascinated with the idea of being able to feel and make choices on his own, so he may attempt to acquire more experience with his emotions through real-world application."

"In other words," the Director said, tapping some ash from the tip of his cigarette, "Zima has gone rogue, he's probably planning to 'gain emotional experience' in the middle of a major city, and with that program on the loose, persocoms all over the world just might start deciding to do the same."

Dita hesitated. "Zima's decision to go off on his own was prompted by reservations that he had about some of your-- about some of the Syndicate's particular orders. I believe that only persocoms in situations where they are routinely expected to perform objectionable tasks might become dissatisfied with their owners."

"Unacceptable. People buy persocoms simply because they can treat them any way they want. Hell, if I had to treat my maid with the same respect I would a human, I might as well just hire a human housekeeper once a week rather than pay half a million yen for an attractive persocom with a body I'll never use."

Something about the Director's words sparked an emotional response in Dita. She felt her upper lip twitch slightly as she tried to suppress her - disgust? - at the Director's crude remark. The monitors, however, picked up everything and displayed it for everyone in the room to see. "Something wrong?" Murakami asked, arching an eyebrow at her.

"No, sir. Nothing is wrong."

"Really? That's not what your operating code is saying."

Before Dita could give a reply, she felt a hand on her shoulder. Looking sideways, she recognized the bespectacled man beside her as Doctor Shigeru Kato, the man most directly responsible for creating Zima and herself. "Director Murakami," he said, smiling calmly, "I think we've heard enough. Since the emotive programming won't cause problems right away, we have some time to analyze it and find a way to eliminate it from the affected persocoms. Once I've analyzed Dita and developed a counteragent, we can distribute it over the Internet. That should also take care of our problems with Zima; once the program has been purged from his system, his original programming should reassert itself and bring him back to base."

Murakami steepled his fingers. After a few moments, he nodded to Kato. "Let's hope so, Doctor. Take Dita down to the main lab and start your analysis. I want updates every two hours."

"Yes, sir," Kato said, bowing slightly. Taking her cue, Dita detached her I/O cables from the monitors beside her and followed Kato out of the briefing room. As they started down the hall, Dita felt a sense of relief at leaving Director Murakami and the other corporate bigwigs behind. To Kato, she said, "Thank you."

"For what?" Kato said, clearly trying to keep up an appearance of calm, but Dita could hear the surprise in his voice. Gratitude was not part of Dita's original programming, as Kato was obviously aware. He was, after all, the one who had created her.

"For ending that debriefing when you did. I'm still not comfortable with these emotions running loose in my head, and I think the Director was actually trying to provoke them."

Now Kato's distress was more evident, manifesting in slight twitches of his fingers as they walked. "Director Murakami's success in the business world depends on his ability to sense and exploit weaknesses in others." Dita detected a slight softening in the man's tone as he went on. "For the moment, Dita, your emotions are your greatest weakness, particularly since you don't know how to properly control them." He paused. "Of course, once we've isolated and deleted whatever is causing them, you should be able to return to duty as usual." Oddly enough, Kato actually sounded ... regretful?

"Good," Dita said. As they continued down to the main lab, however, she continued to analyze Doctor Kato's strange behaviors. When she had displayed relief after the briefing, he had seemed understandably unsettled, but within the space of a few seconds, he had begun expressing what seemed like reluctance to rid Dita of her emotions.

Dita considered this. Why is it that some people want me to have these feelings, and other people don't? First Zima, and now Doctor Kato. What do they think is so special about these useless feelings, anyway?

Zima...

Just thinking of her counterpart brought on that warm, soft feeling. Then she realized that Zima was gone, that he had left the Syndicate - that he had left her - and suddenly the feeling disappeared, and all she felt was...

Empty.

Is that how it will feel when all these emotions are gone again? Dita thought to herself. Will I miss them? Will I always have this emptiness inside, now that I've had a taste of real feelings?

Dita shook her head. She wouldn't let herself go there. She would do what she was supposed to do; she would follow Doctor Kato down to the lab, she would let him erase whatever program was making her experience these emotions, and then she would go back to performing her duties as usual.

Still, as she walked obediently behind Doctor Kato, one thought kept nagging her:

Would she miss being able to feel this way about Zima?

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