Thirteen Years Later;

It's not that he hated his job as the head of the Ministry of Science, but being the field guide for a bunch of unresponsive teenagers sure didn't make it easy. Professor O'Shay nervously wiped sweat from his brow as he guided the class around the facility- not that they were paying too much attention. If most of them weren't on their phones, the others were causing trouble for the rest of their classmates.

"Now," the poor professor then said to the class, "Any questions?"

To his surprise, one of the students did raise their hand.

"Yes?" O'Shay said, pointing to the student, "What would you like to ask?"

The student in question was a boy with red hair and a bigger frame around. "Yeah, so," the student then went on to say, "This place is cool and all, but, like, when are you going to tell us about the Kokoro Theory?"

Professor O'Shay almost let his jaw drop in surprise. The word 'Kokoro' got the attention of the other students, unfortunately, and they were now all agreeing with the first student.

"Is it true that the Kokoro Theory was the sentience of humans in all robots?" another student piped up.

"Did Doctor Tenma really create the theory after he killed his son?" inquired another.

"He burned down his mansion after too, right? To kill the theory like he killed his son."

"No, that's not what happened! That mad doc created a robot just like his son, gave him Kokoro but was so freaking scared that he trashed the bot and killed himself and burned the theory at the family mansion. Isn't that right Professor?"

For a moment, Professor O'Shay could only stare at the entire class of thirty students started to slowly revolt from his authority just by talking about a theory the poor professor hoped he would never hear from again. It just a few moments, the professor decided he had had enough.

"SHUT UP!" he barked at the student body. Immediately, the teens hushed in a mutual fear of a man who looked like he could never be too angry. Noticing that he had their attention for the first time since the tour began, O'Shay cleared his throat and regained his composure- not that it helped much, considering the subject matter.

"Now," Professor O'Shay began, "I don't know who told you about the Kokoro Theory, considering roughly over half of you weren't even conceived at the time, but it is a subject that we do not talk about around here anymore. It's a theory that could change the world if given to the wrong hands. Yes, it is true that the late Doctor William Tenma died with the theory. I can not tell you what his intentions were at the time because what you children seem to fail to understand is that Doctor Tenma was a broken man in his last year of life. Doctor Tenma's son Tobias was no older than any of you when his curiosity and stubbornness got the better of him, and a robot designed for the militia with the only instinct to obey cut him down before anyone could do anything about it. After that day Doctor Tenma refused to show up at the Ministry, the poor man couldn't find relief at the end of a beer bottle or from the various depression medications he forced himself to take, and his development on what we now call the Kokoro Theory was deemed as brilliant as it was dangerous.

"Do you kids see it now? Kokoro is a lovely dream, but a robot with the will to choose whether it can obey or disobey? It would be too much. We could never accept a being like that into our society- even if the robot in question had the ability to protect the human race. It can not happen. Ever. Do you understand?"

The students were silent, but a small hand raised and Professor O'Shay rubbed his temple as he started to feel a heavy migraine coming on when he saw it.

"Yes?" the professor addressed. "What would you like to say?"

In a moment of confusion, the students moved out of the way to rat out the one who had their hand raised. It was a female student that was the smallest of them all, but there was no doubt that she was as old as the rest; her dark brown (almost black) hair was cut short but styled so it curled upward at the middle of her head, her big brown eyes were as dull as fresh mud as she gave him a look of cynicism and doubt, and her pink, sleeveless tunic dress lay on her body like an oversized t-shirt that she had paired with dull red leggings and a large ruby pendant.

"What is your name young lady?" Professor O'Shay asked as she slowly started to put her hand down once all attention was on her.

"Uran." She told him, her voice sounding as emotionless as her rather pretty-looking face. "Sarann Uran. My mother was previously known as Ambassador Carrietta Zoran"

Suddenly, like a light switching on, Professor O'Shay had an understanding of the class's curiosity. "Of course you would know..." he muttered as he shook his head.

"Do you believe it?" Uran then asked. O'Shay looked up at her.

"What do you mean?" he asked in return.

"Do you believe that Kokoro is nothing but a dream?"

For a moment, the professor only stared at her. The students, too, were so quiet that you could have heard a pin drop from three floors down.

"I..." O'Shay started to say, "I don't know."

. . .

Public transits sucked.

They sucked even more when you had to share them with thirty other kids that wanted nothing to do with each other.

Uran had situated herself at the back of the school bus, although it didn't stop anyone from racking on her nerves, at least she had most of the seat to herself and a view of the world outside as it buzzed past them. The Kokoro Theory was on her mind- maybe in a way that could have been seen as unhealthy to some, but it like a song you couldn't get out of your head and a part of her felt like it needed to be thought about.

'His development on what we now call the Kokoro Theory was deemed as brilliant as it was dangerous.'

'But a robot with the will to choose whether it can obey or disobey? It would be too much. We could never accept a being like that into our society...'

Uran dug around in her backpack to find her music player and put in the earbuds so she could listen to something that could potentially clear her brain for a moment or two. But there was one thought, one idea that didn't seem like the others, and it was almost as clear to her as the sunlight;

"He lied."