Episode 8: Cogito Ergo Sum

Friday, Nov 21: Evening.

Hitoshi shambled into his bedroom like a zombie, still breathing heavily from his desperate run home and absolutely soaked.

The backup generator had finally kicked on while he was climbing the stairs, as if to taunt him with the possibility that all might not have been lost.

But when he turned to his desk, the young man could already see faint tails of smoke emanating from the tower assemblage that had contained Saati's hard drive. Though power had been restored and it still went to the monitor, it now showed him only a wall of black and white static, like an old television with no usable input.

No…

Falling to his knees, something sharp jabbed Hitoshi's leg… and reaching into his pocket, he retrieved the incomplete portable system that he'd meant to finish that night. Its circuit boards cracked and soaked beyond repair, it was now useless except as a novelty paperweight.

In that moment, Hitoshi failed to remember his parents and little sister living abroad. He failed to remember his other family elsewhere in Japan. He failed to remember his handful of online acquaintances. And he failed to remember Kosukegawa showing such blatant friendship and concern for him that day or the day prior.

All Hitoshi could think of was Saati. The way she'd always met him with a smile, the way she'd always helped him keep himself together when life went sour, her cheerful innocence when she'd asked to be his girlfriend if she ever became real, and again when she'd said she loved him just that morning…

"You were always real to me…"

This is reality.

The words he'd thought twice before returned and spread through his mind like a cancer.

The world where hopes and dreams go to die.

Quick as a bolt of lightning, the look on Hitoshi's face grew as dark and ugly as the storm outside when he threw the ruined components on the floor with a hateful, sobbing snarl.

"WHY AM I HERE?! JUST TO SUFFER?!"

His vision almost blindingly red, Hitoshi curled his hand in a fist and smashed it against the would-have-been portable system with a scream, doing it again and again without regard for how the broken edges immediately and repeatedly cut his hand open.

The physical pain didn't even register. How could it, in light of his emotional anguish?

The storm outside continued to rage for several minutes, even while Hitoshi's angry screams faded into broken sobs as he slumped to the floor, cradling to his chest the shattered vestiges of what had once been a beautiful dream.

Outside, thunder boomed yet again as a flash of lightning painted the room white, before the pixels of static on the monitor began to morph into zeroes and ones that raced from one side to the other with quickly building intensity.

Consumed with his grief, Hitoshi didn't see how binary code at the center of the screen slowly emerged from it and took the form of a soft, translucent fingertip. Nor could he see how that same binary code, for lack of a better word, evolved in complexity into streams of hexadecimal as the phantom light continued to push its way out of the monitor.

Where once there had been the mere tip of a finger, now an entire hand had emerged.

An arm followed, and soon after an entire body had joined the weeping boy in the room.

Hitoshi didn't hear the being's soft footstep as it met the carpet, nor witness the photonic code comprising it become uniformly solid and take on a color identical to his own skin.

But when a soft hand touched Hitoshi's shoulder, he felt it. Looking up at the unexpected intruder in confusion, the boy's eyes slowly grew wide as he took in its form.

"This… this is a dream. Isn't it?"

Eyes of noblest blue met Hitoshi's question with a little confusion, but above all else empathy.

"It will be okay," Saati promised.

The living program subconsciously reached out to his injured hand, before a photonic stream of code burst free and covered their union like an egg; once it had subsided a few seconds later, no visible sign remained that Hitoshi's hand had ever been damaged.

Kneeling next to Hitoshi, Saati gently pulled her programmer to her and rested his head on her lap. "I don't know what made you sad," she whispered, "but I promise I'll be here with you."

Feeling warm flesh beneath his head, Hitoshi stared up at Saati with eyes full of wonder…

…until his brain finally came properly online enough to process that 1) Saati was fully naked, 2) she was physically touching him and by some inconceivable means no longer restricted to a digital existence, 3) he was in skin contact with an extremely beautiful very naked young woman who liked him, and 4) if he turned his head just a little bit then–

His face as red as a tomato and with smoke practically coming out of his ears, Hitoshi Kobe just entirely gave up on trying to make sense of reality for the night and passed out.

"Eh?! Hitoshi?!"


Saturday, Nov 22: Morning.

When Hitoshi awoke the next morning, he was in his bed like normal. Wearing his pyjamas like normal. Even through the senselessly blurry world he saw without his glasses, his computer setup at the desk still appeared completely normal.

"It can't be that… I just imagined it, right?"

Finding his glasses on the nightstand next to his bed, Hitoshi slipped them on and found that everything in his room looked the way it did the previous morning.

"It… it all felt so real," Hitoshi whispered in a daze, rolling to the edge of the bed and trying to get to his feet – only for his legs to fold and drop him to the floor an instant later.

Staring at the pristine carpet in confusion, he asked himself, "Didn't I mess up my hand last night?"

Reaching up for his phone, Hitoshi confirmed the date: Saturday, November 22.

Hitoshi tried to stand again, but the room started spinning until he gave up rather than allow him to do so in peace. "The last day or two had to have happened," he tried to reason, "but… but why isn't my room a disaster? Was everything that happened a dream? Am I still in a dream?"

Hitoshi would have sworn that Saati became real the previous night and held him, comforted him… but then, if that had actually happened, then he'd also come within a hair's breadth of losing her to the storm – probably should have lost her.

The bespectacled nerd closed his eyes with a self-deprecating grin, just feeling the carpet beneath his body. "A computer program coming to life and manifesting in the physical world… get real Hitoshi, you're not lucky enough to live in a world that runs on Digimon logic."

For several seconds, the boy didn't so much as twitch, just basking in the muted sunlight coming through the curtain on his bedroom window.

The easy way to find out is to boot up my computer and talk to Saati… if what I remember was a dream, then Saati will definitely be safe. …but if that's the case, then it also means that Saati never told me… she never said that. Do I even want to live in a world where objective reality is that the happiest moment of my life didn't happen? Is waking up worth that price?

The coarse carpet was actually pretty comfortable, once he'd gotten used to it. With the gentle warmth of the sun on him, staring up at a soft yellow ceiling, Hitoshi was incredibly tempted to just close his eyes and let himself drift back to sleep.

A sharp pain in his stomach, however, told him that his body had other plans for the day. "I guess if I'm hungry," Hitoshi complained as he rolled onto his side and began to push himself up, "then I'm probably awake. And they say people can't read in a dream anyway, right?"

Even so, I… how the hell am I supposed to step up and look for the truth when it might hurt enough to kill me? It's just so much easier not to know…

Not bothering to change out of his pyjamas yet, Hitoshi equipped a pair of house slippers with art of lewd anime teenagers on them and traipsed down the stairs toward the kitchen. As he made it to the ground floor, however, the young man let out a weary sigh. "...but Saati deserves better than to be locked up in Schrodinger's Box like that," he admitted aloud.

I'll go back up and check on her once I've eaten something. Whatever happens after that, I'll deal with when I get there.

It was with this promise in mind that Hitoshi stepped into the kitchen…

"Oh! Good morning, Hitoshi! I wanted to surprise you with breakfast in red, but I guess you woke up too soon~!"

…and stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of a beaming Saati bustling about, wearing a soft pink camisole and loose white pants that stopped a little above her ankle. "...don't you mean breakfast in bed?"

Twirling in place to face Hitoshi, Saati adorably tilted her head in confusion, finger on her chin as the question visibly ran through her information processing algorithms. "Is that the right phrase?"

Next to Saati on the counter, was a plate of gorgeous-looking pancakes stacked six inches high, dripping with rivulets of amber and gold. "I guess that would explain why the recipe book didn't have a color section…"

Completely and utterly dumbfounded, Hitoshi dazedly took a seat at the kitchen table as Saati set the plate in front of him.

For a split-second, Hitoshi wondered why the breakfast Saati had made for him didn't smell as delicious as it looked – a question that answered itself when he bit down into a mass of cardboard, crayon, and what smelled like detergent that immediately triggered his gag reflex.

"How is it?" Saati asked, all bright eyes and loving smiles.

The girl of my literal dreams cooked for me, he very deliberately thought, without my having asked or even put the idea in her head.

"It's… delicious," he lied through a mouth of what very definitely was not food… before then attempting to swallow.

Hitoshi may have been ready to kill himself in the name of love… but his body wasn't, and so it voided the indigestible materials immediately. Coughing and hacking in a sick miserable mess, Hitoshi fell to the floor as Saati worried over him. "Hitoshi, what's wrong?! I was so sure to make it exactly like it looks in the book; did I mess up?!"

Wracked with convulsions as Saati worried over him, Hitoshi's instinct for self-preservation finally wrested control from the one for love-martyrdom and explained, "It… it has to be made of stuff humans can eat…!"

As Saati processed that information, the gorgeous azure in her irises quickly expanded and darkened until it filled her eyes entirely before an error message started typing itself out.

Oh come on, of all the possible times for a bluescreen of death!

Hitoshi might have laughed himself to death if he didn't think he were already halfway there. "You've… gotta snap out of it…! Please… Saati…!"

On hearing her name called out so urgently, Saati blinked away her confusion and fell upon Hitoshi in a panic, crying out in distress as she turned him onto his side so he could void her… culinary experiment without risk of re-ingesting it.

After another several moments of pained dry-heaving and another burst of healing computer code from Saati's hands…

"Holy shit, I'm alive!" he sobbed in relief. "And nothing hurts or even feels irritated anymore!"

Saati clapped, overjoyed with the positive result. "I'm so glad I could fix my mistake!"

"And I'm absolutely starving!"

A bead of cold sweat rolled down Saati's forehead as she decided that perhaps that wasn't a problem best left in her hands.

"...oh God," Hitoshi asked in awestruck horror, "why am I so hungry I feel like I could eat whatever you just tried to feed me?!"

...I deserve that, Saati thought to herself with a pout as tears welled up in her eyes. "I… I'm so sorry, I don't know what I can do to help…"

Hitoshi took one look at the absolute remorse on Saati's face, and instantly felt like he'd punted a puppy. "No, no, I'm not angry at you! I promise I'm not!" I'm too hungry to be sad and mad at the same time! "It's my fault because I never taught you how human food works! Just…"

Hitoshi wasn't sure how, but he could feel his own body screaming at him for something, anything that would at least take the edge off and give it some fuel after whatever Saati just did.

She's… she's still a computer program. As long as I give her actionable instructions and watch out for a possible misunderstanding, there shouldn't be any problem! "Just grab a carton of milk out of the fridge, pour it in a glass from the cabinet, and help me drink it for now!"

Saati complied, acting only as directed, and Hitoshi gradually felt the ravenous abyss in his stomach quiet down as some small measure of strength returned with timid sips of the drink at first, and then heavy gulps after that.

Once the glass was empty, the now-seated but still exhausted Hitoshi leaned back against the kitchen counter beneath the sink. "Th… thank you, Saati."

"Oh no," the program demurred, "it really was the least I could do…"

"I… wasn't… kidding," Hitoshi said between heavy breaths. "I never taught you… anything about human food because… I took it for granted… that you'd never be in a position to use any information like that… and because… it seemed like… a waste of memory at the time…"

A tired chuckle broke free of his lips. "Man, that shows what I know… this whole thing, I – I can't believe I imagined what I just went through, but the idea of you being real still feels like it can only be a dream… it's so good it has to be a dream."

Crouched down next to Hitoshi, Saati poked her index fingers together as she nervously smiled up at him through her bangs. "If this is a dream," she whispered, "then let's make it a good one."

Anxiously, awkwardly, Saati leaned in closer to Hitoshi like she'd seen in one of those image-books that had slid out from under his bed–

No way, she's not… there's no way… is she gonna–?!

–and gently pressed her lips to Hitoshi's with a spark.

The world came into the sharpest focus; it outright ceased to exist.

Life was over; this was something else entirely, something warm and good and right.

Hitoshi could never in a century find words fit for the overwhelming feelings racing through his being. But as Saati wrapped her creator in a soft embrace and he returned it, the words found him.

"I love you."

And then it was over, except it wasn't. When the pair came apart for breath; Hitoshi noticed with a laugh that the pupils in Saati's eyes had formatted into pink pixelated heart shapes.

"Is it always like that?" Saati asked, blinking the hearts away. "So... so nice and amazing and, and–"

When it became clear that Saati didn't know the vocabulary to process whatever else she wanted to say, Hitoshi gave a helpless shrug. "I hope so," he admitted. "That was my first."

The blonde AI licked her lips at the admission, giving Hitoshi what someone more experienced might have called bedroom eyes as her voice subconsciously dipped a little lower... a little huskier. "Then we should do it again."

He was slumped on the kitchen floor, with his back to the cabinet and Saati laying herself across him.

There was no escape.

...why would he try to?

Oh man, I don't know if my heart or my prick is gonna explode first.

Saati pressed herself harder against Hitoshi, ignorant of what her feelings might be leading to but hellbent on finding out and more than content to revel in the glorious heat crashing her critical thought algorithms as she rubbed her chest against her creator's...

...until Hitoshi's back slipped against the cabinet and he fell to the floor, causing her to hit the counter with a hard enough thump to make his phone fall off and hit him in the head.

"Shit!"

"Ah! I'm so sorry! Are you okay?!"

No sooner had the phone bounced to the floor than it vibrated with a text alert, which Hitoshi turned to investigate with a scowl. "Damn reality can't help but bother me after all…"

Saati giggled at the frustrated look on his face, one train of thought suggesting she could kiss it away while another fretted at the inexplicable mood that had come over her moments before. As her RAM search functions spiraled out in response to Hitoshi's mention of 'reality', however, a... gloomy notion occurred to her. "...I've made you late for school, haven't I Hitoshi?" And all I was originally trying to do was make an easier morning for him-

"I'm not going today," he distractedly replied. "There's nothing at school half as important as time with you, especially now that you're in the real world and barely know anything about it. No matter how long it takes, I need to take responsibility for that first and foremost."

Saati wondered for a moment what he meant by taking responsibility, before deciding it was less important than the primary topic of discussion. "But you said before that they don't like you staying home so often, didn't you? I don't want you to get in trouble because of me. Wouldn't it be better if I went with you and explained everything?"

"Not a chance in hell!"

Saati flinched at the abrupt shout, before Hitoshi realized what he'd done and dropped his phone to wrap her up in a tight hug. "No, no, it's not like - Saati, as much as I hate going to school, I wouldn't mind going with you if we could. But we can't let anyone know that you're an Artificial Intelligence. It's to keep both of us safe."

Safe is a curious word, Saati thought. "Why is it bad if other people know I'm an AI?"

For a long moment, Hitoshi didn't immediately answer. "...it's long and complicated," he eventually said instead. "If I promise to explain later, do you trust me enough to leave it alone for now?"

Saati frowned, but didn't argue. What kind of question even was that, anyway? "Of course I do."

Belatedly, she processed Hitoshi's earlier remark about how important their time spent together was to him, and relented with a smile. "Who was your message from? Was it a work client?"

"No," Hitoshi explained as he stood up and retrieved his phone again, "it's just Kosukegawa making sure I'm not dead – he's an annoying schoolmate I met a few days ago…"

Saati tilted her head, confused by the comment. "If he annoys you, then why do you look so happy to talk about him?"

"Because a good friend can be annoying and reliable at the same time, I guess. It's complicated."


Meanwhile, at school…

Kosukegawa stared at the text message on his phone in a mix of relief and frustration.

Not coming in today, Hitoshi's reply read. More important things going on. Can't explain. Don't worry, I have no neckties and I won't be standing on chairs.

"I really wish he wouldn't be so casual about that," Kosukegawa complained.

"Excuse me! Hey, you there! You're Hideo Kosukegawa, right?!"

Looking over his shoulder at the unexpected female voice, Kosukegawa almost jumped at the sight of a redhead in glasses shoving a notebook in his face. "I'm Takako Miyahara, with the student newspaper!"

Kosukegawa blinked. "Um, actually-"

"I knew it was you," Takako said with a grin. "I'm sure it's a pleasure. Hey, others have noticed you being pretty chummy with our resident recluse over the last few days; I'm sure you're aware your friend has an ugly reputation, but with your insider knowledge and my platform we might just be able to turn his social luck around! So how about it, got anything juicy for me?"

Jeez, she went from journalistic crusader to slobbering newshound in 0.2 seconds!

"Um… I really don't know too much about the guy," Kosukegawa half-admitted. "Sure we hang out a bit during gym class, but it's not like we talk about the meaning of life or anything."

Well, from a certain point of view they absolutely did… but the young man certainly knew better than to share as much with an outsider.

Takako, on the other hand, didn't seem ready to accept that. "You expect me to believe that even though he's your friend, you don't have any special knowledge about Hitoshi Kobe that the rest of us don't?"

"Well, friendships between guys are just like that sometimes. We don't really sweat the details if we don't need to."

The warning bell for the next class rang at that moment, and Kosukegawa took his opportunity to run like hell with a half-sincere apology in his wake.

"Oh come on," Takako complained to herself, only refraining from stomping her foot in agitation by the presence of so many other students in the hallway. "First Aoyagi, now even Kosukegawa?! Here I am trying to investigate the truth and spread it, and the only person who'd even talk with me enough for me to do my job was when they got as much out of the conversation as I would! It's like there's some kind of conspiracy going on!"

Tapping her chin while en route to her next class, Takako reflected on her last few interview attempts. "...no, wait," she muttered. "That makes it sound like I'm the problem for being self-centered or bitchy… am I?"

If the greatest advantage of talking to oneself is that no one will question you, then perhaps its greatest disadvantage is that no one will answer you.


"Come on man, just play it cool! Hitoshi said all I need to do is talk to her – and he's apparently got a girlfriend so hot he can't even think straight, so it must be true!"

So Kosukegawa said to himself in a corner of the school courtyard as classes had let out, after having voided his lunch in the bathroom from sheer nerves.

"It's not like I'm walking up to some stranger who's never heard of me," he reasoned. "We even had fast food together yesterday, so there's no reason to act like this is such an overwhelming ordeal. She was even nice to me after I screwed up as totally as I did, so I might even have an actual chance!"

...I say that, but it still just feels like a dumb fantasy. She's so amazing and unbelievable, and I'm… I'm just me-

"What would Kamen Rider do?"

Hitoshi's question from the day before cut through Kosukegawa's intrusive thoughts, and the young man pulled out his phone. "This wouldn't be an issue for a Kamen Rider," he quietly agreed, "but for someone like me it's impossible..."

"There's nothing in this world that's impossible as long as you're motivated!"

Completely startled by the familiar line, Kosukegawa looked around in a daze until he realized the words had come from his phone.

There, staring back at him from his phone wallpaper, was the Treasure Sniper himself – Kamen Rider Diend!

It's just like in Kamen Rider Decade's World of Hibiki! That's what he taught Asemu to overcome his hesitation!

"Before anything else," Diend insisted, "you have to start moving. If you move, Boya, then something will start."

Kosukegawa met his unexpected mentor's profound wisdom with a fist pump into the air! "That's right! I'll never know what can happen until I start moving!"

"Oh Em Gee, get a load of that weirdo talking to himself in the corner over there!"

"Eww, I hope it's not anyone in our class!"

Realizing he'd been daydreaming – and worse, caught, Kosukegawa muttered, "...and I will start by moving away from this location."

An unscathed escape was easier said than done, but he nevertheless did manage to pull it off and make his way out of the school and back into the city proper. After that, it wasn't too much trouble to find his way to Motoko's apartment after a quick ride on the subway.

"It's supposed to be apartment 304, right...? Ah, here it is!"

Indeed, there it was.

Not just the front door of the girl he liked, but the moment of truth.

Could he do it?

Sweating buckets of bullets, Kosukegawa took a deep breath...

...and rang the buzzer.

I bet she's probably not even home anyway. Or if she was sick, then she'll probably just stay in bed. I'm sure I came over here for nothing and should probably go ahead and leave-

"Hello~"

The door swung open, and Kosukegawa was startled to behold-

BOOBS.

Perky, pale, enticing as Actual Hell, 'twas indeed a pair of breasts staring back at Kosukegawa from underneath a soaked white towel that the girl had casually around behind her neck.

Under the ends of the towel, I can see little hints of pink on the sides..! If I could suffocate in those things I'd die a happy man!

Dragging his eyes up and away from the mesmerizing bosom before he could make himself any more a fool than came naturally to him, Kosukegawa looked his host in the eyes and almost jumped.

Her hair done up in a topknot, the beautiful brown eyes staring back at him couldn't possibly have been anyone else but Motoko's.

And yet, at the same time… this casual, carefree demeanor contrasted so totally and utterly with the desperate anxiety he'd seen the day before that Kosukegawa found it utterly inconceivable that this girl could possibly be Motoko.

"Can I help you with something?"

The familiar yet strange girl's voice sounded a bit to Kosukegawa like Motoko's, but was also clearly a few octaves higher.

"Bwuh, um, ah, bo-beach! Ti-together! I was curious about going to the beach together tomorrow!"

The girl's innocent doe-eyes slid up above Kosukegawa's head as she tapped her chin, seemingly deep in thought. "Uhm..."

Oh damn, the way her lips part when she's thinking is so sexy it's criminal!

Oh, the unspeakable thoughts percolating in his brain…

"Well… okay! I don't mind!"

The girl's cheerful acceptance of the offer startled Kosukegawa entirely out of his horny trance, at which point he started waving his hands in panicked apology. "I… I'm so sorry! I meant with Motoko! Is she around?!"

Before the mysterious minx could answer, door 305 opened to reveal an annoyed Mitsuki Aoyagi. "Some of us are trying to study, do you have to make such a racket in the ha-?!"

"…"

"…"

"..."

Staring at Kosukegawa and the girl in front of him with wide eyes, Aoyagi shook her head with a soft "nope" and retreated back inside.

While Kosukegawa wanted to jump in a hole and die just from secondhand shame on behalf of his unexpected conversation partner, the girl in door 304 shrugged off the matter as if Mitsuki's reaction had confused her more than anything.

And what a shrug it is, Kosukegawa thought as the gloriously soft-looking pendulums on the girl's chest swayed from one side to the other.

"I don't think Motoko's coming out again tonight, but I'll make sure to tell her about the beach tomorrow. Okay?"

Coming out? It's not like Motoko's some kind of ghost… "Um, thanks, I'll... come back around tomorrow then?"

"Okay, buh-byyye~!"

While Kosukegawa skedaddled as serenely as his shot nerves would allow, the near-topless girl with the topknot happily waved farewell to him in nothing but sandals and white panties that were becoming translucent from half-dried moisture.

Kosukegawa swallowed as he got out of earshot. "...I hope a really cold shower when I get home is gonna do the job."


When Haruki Mishima awoke, he was suspended in a large canister filled with translucent fluid. Most of his pain had already subsided, and indeed his body almost felt as good as new.

"I had to pull a few strings to keep your name out of the news," a gruff older voice remarks, being piped into his tube through a speaker. "And to think you let that precious car of yours be so utterly destroyed… tsk, tsk! You're damned lucky that as a researcher, I have much easier access to these nanotubes than the general public."

That's my grumpy old man, alright…

"I'll admit I got a little handsy with a pretty girl," he said with completely feigned remorse. "But then she turned out to be one of those inhuman freaks – you know, like the ones in Nerima; I never stood a chance. She's the real danger to society, the one that needs locking up!"

The senior Mishima took a moment to consider the information; when he eventually did respond, his tone had softened considerably.

Just like Haruki knew it would.

"Both arms dislocated… skull, clavicles, and a hundred other bones cracked, with fifty of them including your ribs and shoulder blades broken outright… arms and back almost skinned like a damn fish…over forty pieces of broken glass embedded in you, and countless lesser lacerations… Oh, the monster that's hurt you, my son…!"

A more decent, empathetic human being might have been shaken by his father's grief over the stress of tending to a loved one suffering such grievous wounds, and shared in it.

A wiser person might have reflected on the dangerous and irresponsible lifestyle that led to this course of events, and resolved to change it.

A person with a healthy self-preservation instinct might have accepted their defeat with grace and chosen to move on with life in the name of basic survival.

But instead of doing any of those things, Haruki licked his lips and bared teeth behind the comfort of the healing tube's privacy screen. "Pops, didn't you… mention a while back, how you were working on a super steroid for dealing with her kind?"

"Son, a fitness enhancer that only lasts for a few minutes on animals is hardly fit for conventional use–"

The image of the girl who brutalized him burned in Haruki's mind, and his mouth curled up in a sinister grin. Already, he knew how he could use some fake social media accounts to find the chick that had fucked him up so easily and to track her down…

"That's why I'm offering to volunteer for a human trial. You already got authorization and just need a willing subject, right~?"