Almost midnight– no better time to work out some particularly challenging bugs in the code he was writing. The sounds of traffic outside his apartment had died down, the neighbors were asleep, and the cat wouldn't be running around the living room like a maniac for at least a couple of hours. For a moment, the world around him was quiet–

"TJ! You're still up, right? Of course you are; what am I saying? You never go to bed before three in the morning. Okay– well, you have to look at this!"

Tae-joon Park looked up at the ceiling and sighed in response to his overly excited foster sister bursting into the room. He just had to jinx himself, he thought.

"What is it, Mila?"

The younger woman responded by waving a magazine in front of his face. He caught her wrist and held it still so he could read the text printed across the cover.

"Combat Sport Robots: How Deep Does Artificial Intelligence Go? Former Defense Force Engineer Daniel Milutin Weighs In!"

"Milutin is doing interviews for a conspiracy theory journal now?" Tae-joon raised an eyebrow. "Huh. Which investor has he angered this time?"

"That's not the point," Mila replied as she flipped the magazine open to the page she'd marked, "although I'm pretty sure every bank on Gaea is pissed at him nowadays. Look at what he's saying!"

She folded back the cover and dropped the magazine on his keyboard. The programmer obediently picked it up and glanced over the page. The top half was taken up by a photo of a lanky, almost skeletal bipedal robot, standing tall in a fighting cage with some rather dramatic backlight. Its frame was splattered with the hydraulic fluid of the opposing robot, which it had presumably just finished ripping to shreds.

"Competitor Revenant, built by the elite team of engineers at multi-planetary corporation Hammond Robotics, wins championship for fifth consecutive season."

"Interviewer: 'Daniel, what is it that you think makes Hammond's creation stand so far above the rest of the competition?'

Milutin: 'A combination of factors, really. This Revenant has some of the most innovative control system engineering that I've seen in the industry. It's able to detect feedback from its environment - proximity, movement speed, even the friction of the arena floor - at a far more precise level than a human being– and then use that data to make decisions instantaneously. Truly an incredible feat of computer programming and sensor integration, as well as mechanical design…"

"Interviewer: 'Some people have suggested that Revenant's artificial neural network is so advanced, it could even be sentient. As an expert in the field, what would you say to that?'

Milutin: 'I'd say that to make an argument either way, scientists would first have to agree on what sentience and consciousness are. We're still a ways off from a consensus on either of those concepts!'"

Tae-joon flipped the magazine closed and held it out to its owner. "We know the combat robots aren't sentient, Mila. We've looked over and over their programming."

"We've looked over and over the programming for the little ones we work with– the ones in the local leagues that just push each other off platforms and stuff," she pointed out, hastily stuffing the magazine under her arm so that she could use her hands to fumble with her phone. "Those ones in the interplanetary championships, like this Revenant guy? There's no way they aren't at least aware of what's going on. I mean, watch this video, if you don't believe me!"

The video finished buffering, and Tae-joon winced at the harsh sound– the volume on Mila's phone was turned all the way up, and the sound quality left much to be desired. It was a video of the last championship match, recorded by a spectator who'd attended the live event. Revenant seemed to anticipate every move that the opponent was going to make before they made it. He dodged and sidestepped each blow, repositioning himself in a way that allowed him to manipulate the bulkier machine's momentum. His technique was intricate and his movement was fluid; much more reminiscent of traditional martial arts than the brute-force approach normally seen in robot combat.

"Heungmiloun. Impressive predictive algorithm– I wonder how much the software engineers at Hammond are paid."

Mila let out a little huff as she flicked her thumb across the screen, prompting the next video in the queue to replace the one they'd been watching. This one must have been older, likely before Hammond and Revenant had become so famous– the venue at which it was filmed was noticeably smaller. The video started late into the match, and both robots had taken significant damage. A panel on Revenant's upper chest had been bent out of place, exposing the wires and internal mechanisms that controlled his shoulder– which the other robot ruthlessly tore at. Revenant pulled away in a sudden motion, like something had burned him. The reaction lasted only for a split second, after which his other hand reconfigured into a stabbing weapon and impaled the other robot through the abdomen as they lunged at him.

"You can't tell me you didn't see that," Mila said insistently. "The way he reacted– like he felt it."

Tae-joon shook his head. "They can be programmed to behave that way. It gets more attention from the audience…"

He let his words trail off as the video minimized and he noticed that it was part of a playlist she'd created, one with one hundred thirty-two videos about Hammond Robotics, their champion robot, and the conspiracy theories surrounding the company.

"Hammond Robotics Drives Resource Shortages"

"The Dark Side Of Artificial Intelligence"

"Hammond Robotics: Where Humanity Ends And The Machine Begins"

"Military Strategist Kenzo Kimura Speaks Out Against Hammond Robotics"

"Robot Combat Sports and Hammond Robotics' Frankenstein Monster"

"Technocracy: How Hammond Robotics Covertly Controls Public Infrastructure"

"Ileon sesange, Mila– when did you become so… interested in this corporation?"

"Mm– about two weeks ago," she replied with a mischievous grin. "After I saw this."

She scrolled up and tapped the first video on the playlist. A news reporter cut in front of Revenant as he was walked from the staging area to the cage, accompanied by Hammond's crew of engineering technicians.

"Revenant! Can I get a statement for our viewers?"

The machine glared menacingly into the camera. "Get that microphone out of my face, skinbag."

Mila, despite having seen the video several times before, burst out in a fit of giggles. "He doesn't like journalists– I know you can relate!"

The programmer opened his mouth to argue that it didn't have an opinion; it was simply responding in a way that someone at Hammond had wanted for publicity, and that as an experienced software engineer herself, she should really know better than to believe otherwise. Before the words could leave his throat, a knock at the door interrupted. The cat leaped off the back of the couch and bolted under Tae-joon's bed.

"Uh-h… He-hello?"

Their annoying neighbor's voice echoed in the hallway outside. Tae-joon squeezed his eyes tightly shut, then reopened them, as if that would remove all these distractions and allow him to work in peace. Knuckles rapped on the apartment door once again.

"Witt, it's after midnight," Tae-joon called, his tone kept neutral and level with some effort.

"Yeah– yeah, I know. Sorry," the man replied quickly. "I was on a video call with my mom, and my computer turned off. I can't get it to turn back on. You two are pha– phe– phemon– I mean, really good with that kind of stuff! I hate to ask, but can you help me out? It would mean the world to her."

The programmer was half-tempted to give an angry response about how he wasn't a tech support, and he certainly didn't appreciate being asked to provide free labor in the middle of the night– but he couldn't bring himself to. Elliott Witt was an awful neighbor - loudly singing in the bathroom and blow-drying his hair at all hours of the day and night, sometimes multiple times per 24-hour span - but Tae-joon couldn't fault the guy for caring about his mother. Far too many people took theirs for granted.

"I'll go help him," said Mila. "You can get back to– whatever you were working on. I know I interrupted."

"Thanks," Tae-joon replied with a quick nod. He brushed his hair away from his face and scooted closer to the desk.

"Oh! One last, really quick little thing before I go–" His sister paused with her hand inches from the doorknob. "If an AI reached sentience, there's no guarantee we'd pick up on it right away. It could be a slow process, and they probably wouldn't communicate in a way we'd understand. That isn't a conspiracy theory– it's a quote from a peer-reviewed article that Daniel Milutin published. Just saying! See you later, TJ."

She stepped out into the hallway and hastily slammed the door shut behind her. Their fat, orange cat tried to run outside, only to find itself skidding to a stop on the hardwood to avoid crashing face-first into the door.

Tae-joon shrugged and cracked open a can of Red Bull. He'd concern himself with his sister and her newfound obsession with conspiracy news tomorrow. Right now, he finally had peace and quiet to work, and he planned to take full advantage.

He opened the compiler and scrolled through the last section of code that he'd worked on, searching for obvious errors. Sometimes, when it was nearing the end of a long work day, they had a way of fading into the background, not appearing nearly as obvious as they should… Nothing caught his attention. Well– it was worth a try. This was going to require a slower, more methodical approach.

At some point, he leaned back and turned his head from side to side to release the tension in his neck, and caught sight of Mila sleeping on the couch with the cat curled up at her feet. He hadn't noticed when she came back inside– she must have been careful not to disturb him. The programmer smiled as he continued working.

He'd found and corrected one issue. Two– well, now the compiler was giving him a different error message. Sometimes, that felt like its own form of progress. He looked away from his monitor to rest his eyes for a moment– when had the sun started to rise? It was well past three o'clock in the morning when he normally called it for the night. He should really get to bed– but he was so close to being done with this code! It wouldn't make sense to leave it for tomorrow - well, later today, technically - at this point…

The next thing he knew, he was slumped over his desk with a stiff neck and aching shoulders, slowly opening his eyes while the purring cat licked his nose.

"Heh. Hey, Byte," he mumbled sleepily, raising one hand to scratch the cat behind the ears. The furry little gremlin, apparently taking his words to heart, gave his hand a playful but overly enthusiastic nip.

"Ouch!"

He sat upright, frowning at his companion. The cat responded by rolling over onto his keyboard. Tae-joon sighed and lowered Byte to the floor. He ignored the indignant meow of protest that resulted.

The click and rattle of the apartment door being unlocked caught his attention. It caught Byte's attention, too– he lost interest in meowing at Tae-joon and ran toward the sound. The door opened a couple of inches– Mila stuck her foot out to keep their pet inside. She hastily slipped through a narrow opening and closed the door before the cat could escape.

Tae-joon glanced at her, and had to do a double take.

Mila looked uncharacteristically professional. Her usual oversized T-shirt and sweatpants had been replaced by a sharp blouse and trousers. Her hair was sleek, brushed, and neatly tied back. She was even wearing the sort of uncomfortable, impractical, formal shoes that she despised– which, as her brother watched, she kicked off and replaced with old slippers.

"I got a new job," she exclaimed proudly as she half-skipped over to his desk. A thick stack of papers, held together by multiple binder clips, dropped from her hand onto his keyboard with a thud. He sighed– then raised an eyebrow as he skimmed over the front page and realized that he was looking at the longest, most complicated non-disclosure agreement he'd ever seen.

"At Hammond Robotics," Mila continued with a gleam in her eye. "If they are covering up the Outlands' first sentient AI, I'm going to find out about it!"

Tae-joon blinked several times in disbelief.

"Fringe theories aside– how did you convince them to hire you? They are–"

His words cut off as he noticed Mila's lips pulling up into a mischievous smile. His own expression turned to one of suspicion.

"We-e-ell– I may have– sort of– faked some credentials." She shrugged and batted her eyelashes, trying to appear innocent.

"Mila!" Tae-joon gave her a stern look, arms folded across his chest. "What were you thinking?"

"I can make some for you, too! If you want in, all you have to do is say the word." Her reply came with a casual attitude that annoyed her elder sibling.

"The last thing I want to do right now," the programmer muttered, "is follow you down this conspiracy rabbit hole."

"Fringe theories aside," Mila mocked him playfully, "they have a bunch of cybersecurity jobs open– and they're offering triple what we make at Poison Arrow."

That statement was met with a raised eyebrow from Tae-joon.

"Triple?"

The two of them weren't in the most financially secure place at the moment– he'd just paid the rent for their apartment, and now wasn't sure how to rectify the bare shelves in the kitchen. All it would take was one unexpected problem to tip the two of them over the edge, onto the streets… As much as he disliked the idea of being dragged into one of Mila's crazy schemes, he didn't think there was a way to justify turning that offer down.

"Give me the phone number," he finally grumbled with a last, defeated sigh.