"Look! Isn't she pretty?"
Yuta Takaya moves the plastic toy, the one she's had clutched in her hands since her arrival at the public pool, to 20 centimeters in front of your face.
Polyvinyl chloride; ethylene vinyl acetate; polyvinylidene dichloride; polypropylene. These polymers make up the bulk of its figure. Its makers colored and shaped it to resemble a human woman.
Yuta Takaya has made some alterations. Teeth marks on the legs; dirt in the crevices of its joints; paint and nail polish splattered and dried in 17 spots; dried gum stuck in the roots of its tangled and unevenly cut hair. The looseness of its various parts also indicates to you that it has been dropped and/or possibly thrown a number of times.
Pretty. The word is subjective, but you doubt most humans would apply the term to this doll. It may have been made to resemble an attractive human woman, but if a human woman were to resemble it in its current state...
Sturdy may be the best adjective. "Well-loved," Mikuru Asahina once said.
This is the 251st time you have analyzed this doll.
"Yes, she's very pretty!" she now says, ending the silence. Yuta Takaya turns away from you.
She giggles. "I take her with me everywhere," she lies. Of the 1624 iterations that Yuta Takaya has visited the public pool, she brought this doll along 1336 times. She has brought 2 different dolls in 241 iterations, and brought nothing in the remaining 47. This pattern is most likely consistent with her behavior outside of the temporal loop caused by Haruhi Suzumiya.
"Yeah, and that's why she's not even a little pretty," Rina Takaya says, exposing the contents of her mouth: lumps of chewed sandwich mixed with her saliva.
"Gross! Close your mouth, Rina!"
Rina Takaya obeys, closing her mouth and swallowing, then opens it again: "Your doll's gross."
"Well at least I play with my dolls. You're so weird, Rina, you-"
"Hey!" Haruhi Suzumiya shouts. 24 people turn to look. "No fighting when you're eating Mikuru's lunch. Seriously, do you know how much I could charge you for this stuff? She made all of it by hand. It's worth a fortune! And you brats are getting it for free. So you better appreciate it!"
"We're sorry, Mikuru!" They say in unison, which would have delighted Haruhi Suzumiya if she were aware that they are twins. She has only learned of this in 155 of the 305 iterations that she has chosen to play with them, as they are dizygotic twins, so this information is not readily apparent. To humans.
"Oh, it's fine! I'm just glad everyone is enjoying everything. Although..." Mikuru Asahina points her right index finger up and curls her other fingers into her palm, "Yuta's right, Rina, you should always chew with your mouth closed, OK?" She smiles.
Yuta Takaya sits up straighter while her sister slouches. "Yeah, that's right! Now tell her that dolls are meant to be played with!"
"What did I just say?"
"Aw, but Haruhi, she's really so weird! She's only taken, like...two dolls out of their boxes! She's got a whole big stack of unopened dolls in her closet!"
"Three dolls..."
"Huh." Haruhi Suzumiya stays silent for 2.6 seconds, considering. "That is kinda weird. Why do you do it?"
Rina Takaya folds her hands and curls her shoulders inwards. "Well, they just look so pretty. Their dresses are so smooth and sparkly, and their hair's all perfect. I don't wanna mess 'em up."
"But they're bored, Rina! My dolls get to go all kinds of places and do all kinds of fun stuff! And yours are just trapped in those boxes in a dark closet by themselves! They can't even hang out together!"
"Well, the whole "not-being-alive" thing is probably the bigger obstacle to a doll hang-out than the boxes."
No one speaks for 3.6 seconds. The Takaya twins' faces turn from their shared glare to shared expressions of distress at the speaker of the last statement, though it is likely that it is the disapproving looks of Haruhi Suzumiya and Mikuru Asahina that prompt him to speak again.
"Or, uh...it doesn't matter, right? They're her toys, she can do what she wants with them."
Haruhi Suzumiya rolls her eyes. "Don't mind Kyon. He's always a huge buzzkill."
"Well...he's right! I can do what I want with my dolls! I'm not gonna let 'em get all beat up and gross."
"And I can do what I want with mine. And we're having a super fun time together at the pool."
"Good! Cause it looks like everyone's done eating," Haruhi Suzumiya says, heedless of the food still in front of and in the hands of her brigade members, "and we're about to have a super, super fun time! Water soccer! Everybody in the pool!"
The Takaya twins cheer, quarrel apparently forgotten, and chase after Haruhi Suzumiya into the water. One groans and another sighs, but the members of the SOS Brigade also follow their chief.
Your 1835th game of water soccer differs in choreography from its 1834 predecessors (it would be impossible for every human at the pool or even for the SOS Brigade alone to replicate their exact motions from any single iteration), but not in content. No significant data is collected. But you do get to observe one unique event at its conclusion. Yuta Takaya slips climbing out of the pool; in the process of catching herself, she smacks her doll against the concrete. Its head detaches from its neck, and the neck itself cracks. She cannot put it back together.
"Don't worry, I bet Nagato can fix it," he says to Yuta Takaya, his tone of voice reminiscent of the one he uses when speaking to his own younger sister, and briefly meets your eyes with his.
You can. You will.
There is an insect in the café. Musca domestica. A fly. You watch it.
"Check it out, everyone!"
It takes longer than it should to move your gaze away from the fly.
The list.
You look at it. It doesn't take you anywhere near the time you spend looking at the list to read it.
"What is this?"
"It's a schedule of all the things we're gonna do before our vacation ends!"
Itsuki Koizumi had once brought a trading card game to the literary club room, with a sealed pack of cards. He had opened it, and proceeded to assign a rarity to each card as he flipped through them.
"Common, common, uncommon, common, uncommon, common...hmmm, nothing above "uncommon" in this pack. How unfortunate."
You perform a similar categorization of Haruhi Suzumiya's planned activities for her 2141st iteration of the last 2 weeks of August.
...
How unfortunate.
The fly flies in circles around the table. Its buzzing joins Haruhi Suzumiya's voice in your ears. You have no need to look at it. Your eyes flick back to it.
Haruhi Suzumiya is talking. She says nothing significantly different from any other time she has introduced the list.
"Is there anything you wanna do, Mikuru?"
"Oh, ah, um...I think I'd like to try goldfish scooping!"
This is the 1951st time that Mikuru Asahina has suggested goldfish scooping. Common.
The fly darts between Haruhi Suzumiya and Mikuru Asahina. This is the 685th time a fly has been in the café while the SOS Brigade is here. Of course, if you were to take only the first café visit in an iteration into account and not any subsequent visits, it would be the 214th time.
"Alright, goldfish scooping it is! How about you, Koizumi, Yuki?" This is the 238th time Haruhi Suzumiya has asked for your opinion on the list, the 119th time she has asked for Itsuki Koizumi's, and the 100th time she has asked both you and Itsuki Koizumi. Rare. It ends quickly.
"No, this looks brilliantly put together, Miss Suzumiya! I'm sure our schedules will be full!"
"Nothing."
"You wanna know what I think?"
"Nope!"
The fly lands on the rim of the glass holding Haruhi Suzumiya's coffee float (a common order for her). This specific fly has been in the café twice before this. She swats at it. It begins flying again.
The pattern it flies in is unique. Irrelevant, but unique. A fly in the café has circled your head 403 times before, but never at this exact trajectory. Its random decision to circle your head 4 more times is new, although an extremely similar flight, different by only a few millimeters and degrees, was once performed around Itsuki Koizumi's head in the opposite direction by a different fly, and-
You end the unnecessary calculations. Your attempts to find and process new data are misguided. The fly is taking a unique path, but the information gained from this is not new or different or helpful.
You force your eyes away before you can begin your analysis again, but they fall on another irrelevant distraction. Haruhi Suzumiya's shoes. They were once unique, too. They had only begun appearing 22 iterations ago. She had worn them to the station.
"You like them, Yuki?"
You had been staring at them. You had never seen them before. A new pair of shoes on iteration 2119?
"I saw them in a window on my way here and I don't know! Sometimes you just need to mix it up, you know? Like, you just need something different!"
And she'd winked at you.
You look at them now. Green and white synthetic mesh sit on top of rubber soles. This is the 7th time she has purchased them. There is nothing different about them now. An event that was "ultra rare" has begun its journey towards "common." Still, you're compelled to look. They contain no new data, very little data at all even, yet you devote as much and more of your processing to analyze them as if they contained terabytes of new information.
The fly lands on your right hand. You stare at it. It rubs its legs together. You move your right hand. It lands on your left hand.
"Pretty annoying, huh?"
You look to the seat on your left.
"What was that? You'd better not be talking about our schedule, Kyon!"
He lifts his head from his hands and turns away from you. "What else would I be talking about?"
"Ugh! Hey! Waitress! Bring me another float!"
"You've barely touched that one!"
"This is your penalty!" Haruhi Suzumiya says, slamming her hand on the table. She spoons half of the ice cream on her drink into her mouth, swallows, then squeezes her eyes shut and brings her right hand to her forehead. "Brain freeze!"
"Go slower." He slouches, bringing his head back into his hands. You move your left hand. The fly lands on his iced cocoa (an uncommon order from him).
"It's part of the experience!" Haruhi Suzumiya declares, smiling as the waitress places a new coffee float in front of her. He rolls his eyes to his forehead. He doesn't notice the fly approach too closely to the liquid in his glass.
With the fly's flight now permanently ended, the shoes seize your attention again. White and green. Polyester laces in tight knots. Rubber soles with squares on the bottoms. Sweat from Haruhi Suzumiya's feet soaking into the insole. White and green...
The glass of cocoa is lifted from the table and brought to its buyer's mouth. He drinks...
He gags and coughs, spitting the cocoa, his saliva, and the dead fly on to the table. Itsuki Koizumi widens his smile and his eyes, Mikuru Asahina squeals, and Haruhi Suzumiya scolds, "What are you doing? That's disgusting!"
A unique event.
The shape of what he spit onto the table is unique, too. Aside from the largest collection in the center, it is surrounded by 83 individual droplets; 22 more landed on his shirt, 11 on his hands, and 8 landed on your left hand. Of all of those droplets, 45 are mixtures of cocoa and saliva, 21 are-
"A-are you OK, Kyon?"
"I think I'm gonna be sick..."
You are alone.
The 3 empty glasses, the 42-percent and 77-percent still-full coffee floats, the crumpled napkins and empty cups of creamer, and the paid-for check on the table all attest to the fact that the others had been here, but they have gone now. There are no other patrons present.
The waitress has yet to clear the table. She is standing in the kitchen. What is she waiting for?
...
She's moving.
She emerges from the kitchen and approaches your table. You look into her eyes, but she does not look back. She begins to clear the table. You will need to say something.
"Emiri Kimidori."
Eye contact established. "Is there something I can do for you, Miss Nagato?"
"Yes."
…
It's a perfectly valid request to make, an encouraged one, even, should an interface believe it may be at-all necessary. But the fact that it may be at-all necessary...how will the Data Integration Thought Entity view it?
How do you view it?
Irrelevant. If you believe this is necessary, then you must do what needs to be done. Whatever outcomes result, they will be the correct ones.
Emiri Kimidori does not speak. She looks at you. She waits.
"Request recalibration."
"You believe you are malfunctioning?"
You look away.
"What is the nature of the malfunction? Is it with movement? Reception? Processing?"
...
"What led you to this request? When did you experience it? Where?"
...
You reestablish eye contact.
"Request recalibration."
"Miss Nagato, without knowing what malfunction I must diagnose or where to search for it, recalibration could take a lengthy amount of time."
"Request recalibration."
Emiri Kimidori pauses for 5 seconds. She seats herself in the chair to your left.
"I will first conduct an examination. I will test your functions in order to locate any aberration, defect, or malfunction. Once I have defined the nature and determined the location of the problem, I will perform recalibration to restore you to perfect condition. Do you understand?"
You nod.
"We will begin with audio comprehension. I will vocalize a number of strings of language. Number them, identify them, and repeat them back to me separately. Do you understand?"
You nod.
Emiri Kimidori opens her mouth. Humans would be unable to recognize that the sounds that emit from her throat are language. It is too many, and too fast. There are 118 distinct statements. And 42 are given in reverse. The cacophony fills your ears. You've never heard this combination of sounds before.
You do as she ordered.
"Yes, that is correct. Next, I will mimic a variety of common sounds in this environment. Number them, identify them, and tell me what they were. Do you understand?"
So it goes.
For the next 10 minutes, Emiri Kimidori performs for you the examination of humanoid interface basic functions.
"What colors do you see?"
"How many were there?"
"Which directions are they moving?"
"What temperatures are these?"
"Where do you feel a pricking sensation? How many?"
"How many distinct scents can you detect?"
And with each task completed, each system verified by your fellow interface to be in perfect working order, she rewards you with a "Yes, that is correct."
After you raise and lower your heart rate according to her specifications, she decides, "I cannot perform a recalibration, Miss Nagato, as I have found no malfunction. You are functioning perfectly."
Unacceptable. "You only performed a basic examination." The minimum. There are more tests she could perform. She skipped taste in the sensory sweep. She didn't even touch movement. And she only performed each test once. She needs to check your successes for repeatability to truly be certain there are no malfunctions.
"This is not the proper setting, nor do I have the time to perform a full examination." She looks at the door. Two customers have just entered. You have seen them 390 times before. "I have duties to attend to," and she moves her feet as though she means to leave.
"No."
She stops. She blinks. She does not stop smiling.
Neither of you speak for 7 seconds.
"If you could give me some idea of what I am looking for, I could abridge the examination and complete repairs much more quickly. I believe that would satisfy both of us, yes?"
No. You want the full examination. But, she is correct. Emiri Kimidori has duties to accomplish, as do you. You should try her suggestion. You will acquiesce. However, doing so is difficult. You don't know how to express it. You use his word.
"...annoying."
"Annoying?"
You nod.
"I don't understand. Can you clarify, Miss Nagato?"
You point your left index finger at one of the crumpled napkins. The one containing the corpse of the fly.
She blinks. "The insect?"
You nod.
"It is...annoying you?"
"No. Before."
"Is that all?"
She does not understand. She would not say those words if she did. You must try to explain further. "An unnecessarily large portion of my processing power was used to analyze it."
"Were you unable to analyze it at the appropriate level of power?"
"No."
"Were you unable to lower it to the appropriate level?
"No."
"Did you have difficulty receiving and processing the data from the rest of the environment?"
"No."
"Do you believe you may have difficulty in receiving and processing large amounts of data?"
"...it is possible."
"Enlarge your area of reception by 200 percent."
You do.
"I will ask a series of questions about the contents and events occurring in this area. All you must do is answer. Do you understand?"
You nod.
"How many insects are in this area?"
"What species?"
"How many of each species?"
"How many are in motion?"
"How many are dead?"
"How many humans are in this area?"
...
"Once again, I can identify no malfunction. Your answers were all correct."
"Not enough."
More. She can do more. There are more questions she can ask, more tests she can perform. You are not satisfied. You need...
"Miss Nagato, if you truly believe you need recalibration, would it not be better to wait until we have the appropriate space and adequate time to ensure that it is performed to your satisfaction?"
…
Perhaps you do not need recalibration. But you need something. Something is wrong.
The unidentified error data accumulating in your memory.
Accumulating at higher and higher rates. The maximum and the minimum grow larger day by day. What was once the occasional drip is now a trickle of error data, what was once a trickle is now a flood. One day, you will be submerged.
Three more customers enter the café. Emiri Kimidori looks their way and smiles.
"Well, I'm afraid there's nothing more I can do at the moment. I believe we are finished here?" She stands.
"No." There is something else. Your error data production rate is currently lower than it has been for 535 iterations. And the ebb in production had begun early this iteration, correlating with Emiri Kimidori's examination.
They may be unrelated, but you believe this lead to be worth pursuing. If nothing else, continuing the examination could lead to further reduction in production of error data. You need that.
The five customers are looking around the café. One of them complains, "Is it...closed? What's going on?"
"Miss Nagato, I have work to do here."
Your lowering rate of error data production...is reversing course. The drips coalesce into a drizzle, encoding itself into the memory data you're transferring into storage. You cannot stop it. You cannot delete it, not without deleting the rest of the memory data along with it. Inextricable. You need it to stop.
"Someone else can fulfill your duties." There are three other humans in the kitchen. They can handle the five customers.
She increases the speed of her speech. "If you believe you are malfunctioning, could you not say the same of your own duties?"
...
Yes. Another humanoid interface could be made with your appearance and specifications. A direct transfer of your memory is impossible, since that would only duplicate your errors, but it could receive an approximation of it from the data you've relayed to the Thought Entity. Such an interface could take on your duties, and probably go unnoticed by most, if not all, humans.
Is that what you want?
The manager emerges from the kitchen. At the sight of the disgruntled customers, he quickly approaches your table. "Hey, Kimidori! What do you think you're doing? We have customers here!"
She stops smiling. "I apologize, sir. I was distracted speaking with my friend. Please forgive me." She bows.
The manager sighs. "This is the first time you've done this, so I'll let it go. But don't let this happen again."
"Of course, sir."
The manager returns to the back of the café. Emiri Kimidori takes 2 steps towards one of the occupied tables.
"I am Yuki Nagato," you say, "it is my function to observe."
She pauses for 2 seconds, then turns to face you a final time. "I am Emiri Kimidori. I have customers to serve. Please excuse me." She bows.
...
You leave.