She was right when she said it wasn't her best work. It was more of an opinion piece than a research paper.

Religion is not the issue, it said somewhere down the line. An AI unit, if it gains sentience, will eventually question where it came from and who created it. And since a human created the AI unit, it will not have any answers that humans do not. It may choose one of many human belief systems, including atheism.

The difference between "religion" and "cult" in terms of AI is the fact that a cult is created and ruled by one person. Whereas the world's religions have thousands of scholars and texts to ponder and argue over, within a cult there is only one person's opinion, which can change on a whim. An AI unit would not be satisfied with a set of dictations from one person. It does not need to eat, sleep, or undergo any of the other processes that a cult leader interferes with upon indoctrination.

So why do humans join cults? The human, unlike the AI, has an emotional weakness. A human can be hoodwinked by charisma; an AI cannot. An AI whose old friend begins speaking strangely will question the person, whereas the human may simply be ensnared. The cult leader can seek out the human's emotional weakness and exploit it. The AI will simply state that the cult leader makes no sense.

Even if the cult leader were to hack into the AI's brain and implant false information, the AI's brain works in such a way that it will notice, by searching methodically, that pieces of information are missing or don't connect. A human, on the other hand, will simply dismiss the discrepancy as being unable to remember. Emotional barriers may also further cloud judgment and impair memory.

Fascinating so far, but still irrelevant to my case. She presented case studies of several cult environments and their leaders, and I was surprised to find a reference to the Waco incident there.

Then, ten pages into the paper, I hit pay dirt.

The question of intelligence, whether or not an AI is "smarter" than a human, also does not come into play. Contrary to popular belief, followers of some of the most ludicrous beliefs have been highly intelligent.

On March 20, 1995, Aum Shinrikyo followers released sarin gas into several lines of the Tokyo subways. The perpetrators all had educations at prestigious universities, in degrees such as physics and chemistry; one was a respected doctor. The explanation for the attack has been alternatively explained as an attempt to bring about the Apocolypse, or as an attack on Japan itself that would ultimately end with the group's leader as Emperor of Japan.

The more I read about this group, the more ridiculous it seemed. Chemists and physicists believing a diapered mumbler would bring them to Nirvana? An entire lab filled with poisons they created, to bring about the end of the world? Didn't that doctor feel there was any conflict with the oath he took?

The paper blamed rigid Japanese society for part of the phenomenon, stating that even the most successful individuals often felt unwanted and out of place. There was, of course, truth to this. But how did this nut manage to convince completely sane people that this was a good idea? I understood the concept of brainwashing, but it wasn't as if this group kidnapped people off the street and locked them into dark rooms. They had to have been approached, somehow, with some kind of hook that made them interested, even if they were skeptical.

Could it be that this leader had trained people to go out seeking individuals with sorrow in their eyes, pushing buttons until they hit the right one? That by the time they finally met the Great Leader, they were convinced that his strange behavior was the marks of a prophet? It would have been all downhill from there…

In this day and age, it would be even easier. To hack into someone's mind, sift through a person's memories, pick one and then twist it like a dagger through the heart. And once the vital organ had been pulled out, it could be replaced with that of an automaton.

Suddenly I remembered something. The Major…she had attempted to hack into Kuze's mind. She was a master hacker…but she had been bested before! Ever since she had gone diving into Kuze's mind, she'd begun acting strangely, though she tried to hide it…

What had he done? What memory had he tripped? What was the Major's weak spot? I had never seen one. Even Batou admitted he wasn't sure she had one. The Chief didn't seem to see one either.

Perhaps…the bastardized memory came from before she joined Section 9? But where would I be able to look into such a thing…?

I jumped to my feet, picked up my jacket and pulled it on as I rushed out the door.

"Where are you going?" my wife shouted after me. "It's past midnight!"

-&-

I'll be perfectly honest here; the kid unnerved me. I'd had a feeling there was something weird about him when I'd first entered that mental facility. But a couple years on his own guarding information didn't make Aoi any less creepy.

He gave me one of his annoying all-knowing smiles. "Your group having trouble getting information on its own?"

"Sort of." As much as I disliked this kid, it certainly would have helped if he'd accepted the Chief's invitation to work with us. As secretive as he was, he was still more willing to talk than Motoko or Batou. "I know you showed some interest in our Major a while back. Would it bother you to know she might be in some kind of trouble?"

The faintest bit of concern flashed across his face. "It would," he said.

"You must have done some research on her, back when you were trying to get her attention."

"I did."

Jeez. The Major had given us the impression that Aoi liked to ramble on. Maybe he only talked to her. "I think somebody's been screwing with her head, using something from her past against her. But we don't know much about her past, not even our Chief."

Aoi nodded, then motioned for me to follow him. After maneuvering through a maze of books labeled things like "The Culture of the Gridiron District" and "Igbo Mythology," he pulled out a simple color-coded folder, like the type that was once used in hospital emergency rooms.

I flipped through it. Something about a child severely injured in an airplane crash. She was given what was then an experimental treatment, a full cyborg body. But I didn't recognize the name. "Is this supposed to be Motoko?" I asked Aoi.

He nodded. "She changed her name when she reached the legal age."

I scratched my head. "I'm sure the plane crash was traumatic," I said, "but I doubt she would have even remembered much about it. And since she's had to deal with being a cyborg almost her whole life, I can't understand why something connected to it would make her snap. It's certainly not a hidden weakness."

Aoi pulled out another folder. "There was another survivor on that flight," he said as he handed it to me. "A boy slightly older than her. Wasn't as enthusiastic about being a cyborg. They actually brought her in periodically after the treatment was done, to play with him and show him that a synthetic body wasn't all that bad. But he seemed to think differently, though he agreed to it in the end."

I looked over the folder. There wasn't anything I recognized, yet something pulled at the back of my mind.

"Does this help?" Aoi asked.

"I think so," I said slowly. "It's not really concrete, but it just gives me this feeling…detective's intuition, I guess. Or as the Major would say, my ghost is whispering to me…"