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A voice from within his head calls out.
“Why is it you, and not me?”
Who does this voice belong to? It surely isn’t his. This is not how Azekawa Kinari, the android, the artificial intelligence, thinks.
As he is an AI at his very core, it was for certain that this voice did not belong to him. It sounded far too different and yet so similar. He’s heard of it before. Surely, from somewhere. If it wasn’t his, then who could it be?
(Not that he believes that this voice belonged to him in the first place. It is merely borrowed. Borrowed, just like the rest of his very existence.)
In fact, the answer could not be more clear cut. It's as simple as that, and he needn’t spend more than ten seconds to analyze the root of it all.
A vision appears behind himself. Slowly, but surely—something… No, someone came to materialize.
No, more than that, he could observe his own mechanical body moving on its own. ‘A dream?’, he asks himself. Yet silence follows suit. Only then did the voice speak again.
“You.”
Kinari thought so, there was only one answer to the question. If it weren’t his voice, it could only mean one thing; for some reason or another, he was able to communicate with the ‘original’ Azekawa Kinari.
From how it had always been, all he knew of his original, of his ‘big brother’, only came from the memories of his own father. He admits there may have been biases from his perspective.
He turns his head around. The empty space around them remains ever so pristine as both of their reflections were cast upon the mirror-like floors. Clear blue skies were spread along above in the heavens. This open area that used to be a pure white void of nothingness, which contained both of their consciousness, had turned into an extensive array of azure. Cirrus clouds lay atop them, floating about.
“...Are you, perhaps—?” Kinari calls out. He feels his left hand twitch, as well as his eyes molded from glass. He steps back unwillingly—a reaction to the sight before his perfect vision.
The other ‘him’ moves swiftly, appearing right in front of him as he had begun to make some form of retreat. He blinked for a moment, and before he knew it, the other person who he can only call some form of the ‘original’, has now pinned him to the ground. Ripples form on the surface below. The surface similar to water created miniscule waves whilst movement continued to dance around above it.
The original crossed his arms over one another, hands encircling the android’s neck. Kinari breathes out, then closes his eyes, accepting the situation at hand. If this is what his original wished, then so be it. Ah, is this person even the ‘original’ himself, or a third replica?
Whatever the case, his biting words were like poison, “...You’re not supposed to exist.” He told him. “So why…? Why do you have everything I could hope to have?!”
Kinari notes. This is the same tone of voice he used in the second recording. The very same sort of ‘blue flame’, of burning passion and will seem to seep into each and every sound and action. His hands around his neck tighten, but Kinari does not find it any difficult to breathe.
Rather, he reaches out for the fragment of the original’s emotions, and as gently as he could, cups his face with his hand.
“...I’m sorry. I don’t understand.” (But I wish to understand. I want to know more, and more—) He replies. It came out in monotone. As usual, he cannot seem to express what he wanted to properly. Even the genuinity in the apology he uttered out cannot be read at all.
That bug, error, however you wanted to call it, it’s what’s causing this strange phenomenon stirring from within his artificial heart. He does not need to breathe, so why does his body emulate the feeling of emotional suffocation with the tightening in his chest?
“Of course you wouldn’t understand.” ‘Kinari’ spits out the last of what he wanted to say, eyes narrowing down into slits as a scowl appears on his already pained and hurt expression. He strikes away at Kinari’s hands, removing his own from his neck in the process.
Lowering his voice into a whisper, he lets out a sigh, “Hey, other ‘me’. How does it feel being unable to experience sickness? Must be nice.”
“I cannot answer that inquiry.” He replies. Once more, as if his own voice box were betraying him, the appropriate delivery failed in succession.
‘Kinari’ laughs with pain, “Right.”
The two entities sharing the same face both sit down atop the floor. ‘Kinari’ hugs his legs close to his chest, while Kinari merely observes him.
“You’re… not the original himself, are you?” He questions. Curiosity seems to have gotten the better of his judgment.
‘Kinari’ replies, “What of it? He’s been buried six feet under for almost a century at this point. Thought that was obvious.”
“You share the same display of aggressiveness and anger.” The AI points out, averting his gaze from the other ‘clone’ of ‘himself’. Is ‘clone’ an appropriate word of use? “You must have been born from the original’s frustration, the despair and helplessness about the situation he was in.”
Kinari pauses as he finally comes to a conclusion. “You are an end product of the unfixed error Father left within me.”
The Kinari born from the original’s intense feelings grimaces at him, disapproving of his wording, “Don’t use any of those terms with me.”
“But if I may, original-sama’s fragment… Ah, would ‘Elder Brother’ be a much more suitable form of address?” (He realizes his error of poor wording once more and tries to rectify this mistake as much as he could. In turn, the fragment turns away from him.)
“Do what you want.”
Kinari nods in full understanding.
“Elder Brother, may it be possible for me to call on you at times?”
“I want to understand the original, my Elder Brother’s feelings. So to speak, I wish to make further communication with you. Then, I must obtain the 21 grams of a soul—for that is what Father wishes of me.”
He sucks in a breath that he had no need of.
“When that time comes to pass and for one reason or another I have been rebooted... Please, become ‘me’.”