Chapter 8
There are such people, commonly called introverted, or simply, introverts.
The type who doesn't particularly enjoy going out or exercising, has a small circle of acquaintances, and is very shy around strangers. Once you get to know him or her, he or she can be quite fun and humorous, but the process of getting close to him or her is truly arduous. People whose first letter, no matter what else, is always 'I' when they take an MBTI test.
I think you get the picture by now. Yes. I was exactly that kind of person.
I was more comfortable with game friends in the cyber world than real-world friends, always ate alone at school, attended lectures alone... No need to explain further, right?
The conclusion is that for someone like me, stepping energetically into a completely new workplace, filled with unfamiliar people, colleagues, and superiors, was simply not an easy task.
To be honest, it wasn't just “not easy.” It was incredibly difficult. Especially since I had just been thoroughly intimidated by a scary Patrol Officer a moment ago.
The staircase entrance leading to the bar deep in that alley felt like the gates of Hell.
A spooky, rundown building, looking like ghosts might emerge from it. Here I was, standing in front of it for ten minutes, wondering what I was doing. I kept pacing in circles, just peeking inside the Bar.
There was no progress.
It would be great if someone inside noticed me, opened the door, and said, “You”re the new hire, right? Come on in.’ But there was no sign of that happening.
The windows on the Bar's outer wall were so thick and distorted, as if covered in dust, that I couldn't see inside. The only thing I could confirm about my new workplace from here was the huge display sign above the entrance.
Dragon's Lair.
Even upon a second look, the unique name of the establishment glowed with various fluorescent LEDs, and an image of a small red dragon sleeping on a nest, cradling gold and treasures, was displayed next to it. It was quite cute, whoever designed it. The problem was, cuteness aside, my feet just wouldn't move inside.
The impression had merely shifted from the gates of Hell to the entrance of the Dragon's Lair. Either way, it was no place for a timid person to just waltz into.
“Alright, Aaron, you really need to go in now. Get a grip.”
As I muttered like a madman and took a deep breath, I noticed something glinting in a corner of the alley, filled with torn posters and broken neon signs.
A vending machine. Two vending machines. One red, one blue. One for drinks—probably cola, of course—the other for various snacks and Retort Food.
“Whew... alright. Let's grab a can of cola before I go in. Loosen up a bit.”
I still had that much time. Maybe a drink would help.
I found myself frustrated, but... what could I do? This is how I was born. I'd lived like this for a full 22 years, so it wasn't surprising anymore. It was just my nature.
I trudged down the alley towards the vending machine. What flavor of cola should I try today?
True to this insane world, the beverage industry was also out of its mind. By the 22nd century, it seemed ordinary cola no longer satisfied future humanity. Pepsi, having defeated Coca-Cola, reigned as the king of the market, committing all sorts of abuses. Prime examples included Curry Flavored Cola, Date Palm Flavored Cola, Hawaiian Pizza Flavored Cola, Mackerel Flavored Cola, and so on.
Just the ones I rattled off made for a monstrous lineup, but the shocking part was that there were nearly a thousand different flavors. If you included the bizarre creations that were discontinued due to poor sales, there would probably be thousands.
The array of flavors supplied constantly changed on a seasonal basis, varying by vending machine, store, and region, making it impossible to permanently avoid the strange ones. You couldn't just keep drinking the original; you were forced to experience exotic flavors.
Thus, this bizarre feast of flavors continues to torment the tongues and mouths of countless Dusk City Citizens, even at this very moment.
I, of course, was one of those victims.
Though I'd grown quite accustomed to these peculiar colas lately. Avoiding the countless minefield-like flavors and buying a decent, palatable cola was, you could say, a small joy in daily life.
“...That's what the model in the cola commercial used to blabber about. “A small joy in daily life,” my ass.”
Muttering, I looked at the display shelf inside the gleaming red vending machine door.
Let's see. No original. Broccoli flavor, skip. Cucumber flavor, pass. Green tea flavor, a little... Wait, why is there so much green? Is it because vegetables are rare due to pollution, so they want us to experience vegetable flavors through cola instead?
I was deep in thought, imagining flavor combinations in my head, trying to figure out which one would be the least terrible.
“That one, the green tea flavor, is surprisingly good.”
“Oh, really?”
“It's got a slightly astringent yet smooth cola taste, so it's not bad.”
I see. That's quite unexpected. Maybe I'll try the green tea flavor today. Nodding at the unexpected advice, I stared intently at the green tea flavored cola; then suddenly, a thought struck me, and I whipped my head to the side.
*...Who just spoke to me?*
As I turned, goosebumps prickling my skin, a woman was standing right next to me, looking at the blue vending machine's display and choosing her menu.
My first impression was that she was tall. She looked well over 170 cm. She was the tallest woman I'd ever seen.
Slightly bluish-black hair fluttered over her long, slender frame. The hair was long and straight.
I found myself staring, as if enchanted. For some reason, she had that kind of allure.
A small face beneath straight-cut bangs. Skin so white it was almost transparent, and swirling gray *sanpaku* eyes next to stray wisps of hair by her ears.
Those cold eyes met mine. An aloof aura radiated from her like frost.
A gaze that seemed to ask, *What are you doing?*
“...Ah.”
A gasp escaped me involuntarily. The silence was broken, and only then did I feel like I'd returned to the dark, damp alley.
I must be crazy, staring so intently at a stranger, a woman's face, from this close... Am I really out of my mind? Why did I do that?
Startled, I bowed my head and apologized.
“I'm sorry. Uh, a voice suddenly came from beside me, and I was startled. It wasn't intentional. It was a mistake...”
“It's fine.”
A short, husky reply. She wasn't even looking at me anymore. She looked at the vending machine, pointing a finger at one side of the display, and said:
“I'll have this one.”
Who is she talking to? Is she telling me to buy it? I frowned, unable to comprehend the situation.
Suddenly, light appeared in the black section below the vending machine screen. Luminescent Elements blinked in sequence, forming a shape.
The shape was... an emoticon?
[(😉) Yo, Sey! Long time no see! What do you want to eat? My treat!]
As a large winking emoticon appeared, a male voice, mixed with mechanical sounds, echoed. And in response, that usual icy voice was heard.
“You don't have any money.”
[I don't have much money, it's true! The company only gives me a measly commission. But for my darling, I'd pluck the stars (🌟) from the sky! Let's see, (in a greasy voice) the usual. (😘)]
After it said that, something poured out of the vending machine's product dispenser.
Goma (Sesame) Sticks. An Ichigo Corp. product, approximately 74 percent krill content. 80g, with various flavor enhancers and synthetic sesame seasoning. A reasonable 26.13 City Dollars per bag. The usual, right? (in a greasy voice) This gentleman here is buying, my lady. (😎)
Only then did I start to understand what was going on. This was quite an unusual situation. That greasy voice was coming from the vending machine's speaker.
So, that food vending machine was...
“A Robot Vending Machine?”
At my thoughtless remark, the blue vending machine spoke in a stern voice.
[(🤬) Hey there, buddy! That's a bit harsh for a first meeting. 'Robot'? Can't you see I'm talking? I'm a Sentient Being!]
Ah, that was definitely my mistake. I'm so flustered, so I keep being rude to people.
Even if it looked exactly like a Robot Vending Machine, as long as it was sentient, I shouldn't have called it a robot carelessly. It was a matter of basic courtesy and etiquette.
Because Artificial Life Forms with intelligence and consciousness don't particularly like being called 'robots,' a term that means “a machine that works automatically according to commands or programs.”
It made sense. The word 'robot' itself has a somewhat stiff and cold connotation, and it's said to originate from a Czech word meaning forced labor or corvée.
Putting myself in their shoes, I wouldn't be too pleased if someone called me a forced laborer. It must be the same for Artificial Life Forms.
*So, what should I call it instead of a robot?*
Android? No, that requires a human-like appearance. This thing only has sentience; outwardly, it's just a vending machine. Humanoid is the same. There was definitely a collective term for machines that could think for themselves... Ah.
I remembered. I immediately spoke the word that came to mind.