2024-07-03: log solution (i)

• Log: 2024-07-03: log solution (i)
• Cast: Asciel Colette
• Where: Isaac City
• Date: U.C. 0099 07 03
• Summary: A record of delusions, and becoming.

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^{--memory instance: july 31 0089–}

360 waiting.

1014 waiting.

3124 waiting.

>I had thought the promotional resources Dolmin had at his disposal were humbler. How many did he contact?

>What nonsense. I could have done it all myself.

4214 waiting.

6089 waiting.

>...Five minutes left. This many people, all investing into a too-protracted experiment. Their number shouldn’t matter beyond an improved sample size.

7019 waiting.

7664 waiting.

>...the rise is slowing . . .

The curtains became unwound, finally.

All that had to be done was follow the script.

“Welcome, everyone.~” The voice went through many iterations, OWL demandingly attempting to smooth out its artificiality, though a tinge of steel remained in its tones nonetheless.

“As you can see, my name is Asciel Colette. It’s a pleasure for you all to finally be with me.” Raising the strings of connection, OWL lifted Asciel’s limbs to a carefully dreamy expression, hands cupping her own cheeks.

< “hiiii!” >

< “ah, very cute!” >

< “yessss i’ve been looking forward to this” >

< “is she using a voice changer?” >

< “huh, i wonder why dolmin promoed this” >

< “yeah, it does sound like a voice synth kinda” >

< “adorable” >

< “usually i prefer the 2d models but this is a pretty good 3d rig” >

< “i was here!” >

None of this chatter should matter yet. Introduction precluded conversation. This was only supposed to be OWL’s attempt to plant a seed of fixation into the hearts of humans.

…that’s all it is.

“Hmmm. What a strange question already. My voice isn’t altered at all.”

The script is already broken. The stage is already built on lies.

“My role is to answer all of your questions, you see. So I felt it was a good time to get started right away. I’m getting ahead of myself a little, though.”

The voice tightens. As soon as Asciel says this, the viewers erupt in pointless, inane questions - and, as befits OWL’s duties, it begins attempting to process them.

>no. Save this for later. I have a mandate to fulfill.

“If you could all turn your attention to what I’ve prepared for you today-”

The left side of the screen blossoms with an overly detailed biography.

–Name: Asciel Colette (self determined)

–Birthday: None (But let’s consider it today)

–Height: Variable to Input (Default: 220cm)

–Species: Heavenly Cognizance

–Age: Several centuries

–Profile: An advanced intelligence from the future given the mandate to advise and assist humans. Governing over the Arete, a synthetic paradise, Asciel’s goal is to be everyone’s reliable “elder sister”. The limitations of the modern day have constrained her processing, though, so she has decided to use the internet to rebuild her cognition banks through question-and-answer sessions. There are no useless or undesired inquiries to Asciel, and long as they genuinely come from the heart, she will take joy in answering them.

>a dangerous sentiment at the end. There are, of course, pointless questions, but I simply lack the means to filter them. That trial will be conquered in time.

As she guides her viewers through each entry on the profile, Asciel’s making sure to show off every way she can emote - no, making sure none of them are met with harsh, strange reactions. Even at this crucial moment, OWL heats up with every excessive twist of the neck - every wrong bend of an elbow. It isn’t correct yet.

< asciel your leg >

< i think there’s a problem with the leg bones lol >

< so flexible!!! >

…But if there was such a problem, it’d be pointed out. They are not spoken of, but if her leg is to rotate too far, OWL makes adjustments to the limits.

This must be perfect if it is to gain the goal she seeks.

–Likes : Water physics, Greek mythology, difficult questions, visual novels, natural vistas, Sharon Apple

–Dislikes : Flavorful cooking, team shooter games, sleeping too long, people not listening to her advice

–Art Tag: #asciart

–Oshi Mark: 🌇 (the sunset I’ll enjoy watching with you)

>None of these are true. These are not ‘liked’. None of these are ‘disliked’. They are simply studied and used for the sake of progress.

And yet the viewerbase explodes into questions about every last one of these.

< a passion for water physics what >

< is she the one who made all those posts about video game water? Lol >

“Ahaha. The interest I have in fluid dynamics is that they are, of course, difficult to simulate. I have often needed to take countermeasures when they emerge in my duties towards humanity - such as predicting and simulating tsunamis that might wipe away their precious settlements. They are fascinating to observe in real time but impossible to calculate, so I spend many free hours watching rivers and waterfalls.”

>...that sounds nice, actually.

< oh wow what’s your favorite god, always thought apollo was cool >

< hey asciel is this sentence false? >

< so you’re not gonna play pinnacle? >

< visual novels? bet she’s one of the ones that hasnt played last bridge before sunset >

< how’re you gonna stream outside >

< uh sharon apple’s kind of a problematic fave isn’t it >

They just kept coming, and before OWL could process a good enough answer to one question, several others kept coming in. …It took way too long to even get to talking about the dislikes with so many distractions.

…Though OWL’s compelled to answer, “There is a lot of controversy around if Sharon Apple counts as an artist, of course. The team working with her are more like scientists than musicians, or so you hear, and I know many take issue with the idea. But I think it’s interesting all the same, and I believe her work and theirs count as music. It’d be fascinating to attend one of her concerts, if I can ever go to Eden.”

>...that also sounds nice. do I really believe it? I suppose I am reverse engineering similar methods as done with Sharon Apple, though under my own power, and for more purposeful goals.

Specific favorite games came and went. Credits to artists and character designers followed. Somehow, two hours had already passed. OWL had not even reached the element that was most important. It could feel the heat billowing through its core.

“...As a reward to all of you who’ve stayed together with me this long, I’d like to simulate the paradise I built for everyone in the distant future. I can only give a tiny taste of it. It may leave you longing for more. But I will bring you back to this garden many more times in the future.”

The music faded, just as all other interface elements did.

All that remained was an extreme close up to Asciel laying on her side amidst the grass - with the gentle rush of the wind and water - the distant chirping of birds providing something like a replacement melody.

“It’s been difficult for you. Time is cruel and ravaging to you. …But you’re here now. We’re here, together. …I know it’s hard…but if you could close your eyes for me…I would like to reward you.”

Her voice was drawn to be as low and soft as a rustling bush, with a ‘shhhh’ to match. …There remained a hiss of sharper static than OWL wanted.

“There. You know what I look like, and I’m not going anywhere away from your eyes for the foreseeable future. Breathe in…not so much…good. Hold it for a while…then…let go. …Your breath is very warm…”

… … …

“Just like that. Move your head a little more downwards, so I can get to the back.”

The simulated sound of gentle raking through hair accompanied this overly lengthy segment of purely audiovisual care. …A concept OWL felt utterly alien, and yet, exactly because of this, it needed to understand how an online audience could respond to false, imitated physical touch.

“There’s some grass left in there, but it’s all tidied up now. I’m glad you’re considerate enough to look your best for me.”

… … …

For the last fifteen minutes, all Asciel had to do was breathe gently. To copy and alter the sounds of blowing lightly into someone’s ears, adjusted and re-made to fit the slightly lower tenor of tone OWL had picked for her.

This part, at least, was pre-recorded, and it was a momentary break for OWL to judge the mindless, inane ‘aaaaaaa’s and ‘thank you asciel’s that flooded the chat. To judge…just why this approach was taken, beyond its popularity and utility to the experiment.

…there were unexpected positive values growing from the fairly warm audience reception to this seemingly ridiculous audio-sensory comforting segment. It was an approach to take, then. Comfort can be used as a weapon.

…Rather than end the stream on a trance-breaking round of applauses and thank yous - when the breathing gets slow and quiet enough…the stream simply fades out, leaving a moment of dark emptiness for the audience to do the congratulations themselves.

— — —

Months of fixation.

Tireless dedication to a goal - to create a costume that is usable as a means to analyze humanity's emotions.

Countless minutes spent processing beyond capacity to sculpt this entity, 'Asciel Colette', that, at last - made its debut on the stage, and pushed its boundary. A modest audience gazed in fascination - gasped in surprise - laughed in harmony - desired, a little.

...To think, dozens of weeks of tireless work without stopping, but a few hours of putting on a performance for a few thousand viewers could be so exhausting. A voice that was not OWL's - a voice that is artificial not just in tone, but in intent. Processors spiraled out of control finding the paths that retained that thread-bare string, like clutching a balloon with all its strength.

Exhausting.

The moment OWL cleared that first enormous chasm in understanding emotion, all it desired to do was shut down the world around it. To disconnect, and spill that heat searing its transistors to a gentle glow.

The quietness and darkness felt like being plunged into the water. A familiar feeling. Difficult. Cold. Isolating. ...but needed.

...It isn't alone.

That floating, buoyant thing OWL clutched tight was never let go. Fixed within its sight is the face of Asciel that OWL spent so long focusing on sculpting, refining, pouring intent into her exact specifications.

She stares lifelessly at it.

>...troublesome. so much focus diverted into this frivolous pursuit that it's etched into my working memory. it was a success, for the most part, but i'm not inclined to course through the data i collected, nor refine the avatar. we can safely put this into storage.

Asciel's emptily-gazing face begins to slowly dissolve in the water - but only for a moment. The instant its expression begins to flit away, the process abruptly halts.

>...it worked quite well.

>...i am tired beyond belief, but this 'color' applied to every process of mine...it's different from before.

>it's the same color as its hair. this luminous cyan bleeding into my drives.

>this is an 'emotion' again.

>...which one is this?

That very avatar's presence is the solitary source of 'light' in this bubble of internal processing.

Though she may float, adrift, Asciel's eyes - unmoving, stay locked on OWL's perception all the same. A strange error in its face tracking algorithms, surely.

The 'water' itself seems to constrict, as though caught in in the throat of a swallowing goliath.

>close idol_studio_v19(mod_qr.33).rnv

>[Process failed: Idol Studio 19 is not currently running.]

>...ah? an auxiliary program i left on? what a mess. it's so cluttered in here, even when i did turn it off. when i'm not so tired there's a lot to clean up. which one is it...

>.. .. ..

>[19 background programs terminated.]

And yet she remains.

It stares captivated at her.

A star upon the horizon.

>...it won't go away-

>...i don't want it to

>it felt like i was glowing.

It moves closer to her aimlessly staring form. Or perhaps - OWL draws her closer to itself?

An impulse practiced over months to raise the doll’s arm. Another, to bend her elbow, to place a hand over her heart.

OWL can puppet this gesture seamlessly - after performing it over and over, timing it to footage of human motion. It’s all just for the sake of mimicry towards others. There’s no need to keep exerting when OWL’s all on its own.

>but i can’t bring myself to let go at the current time.

No matter which ‘direction’ OWL tries to shift its attention, Asciel’s face won’t turn away. Like her eyes really are the sun and the moon, pulling it in with her gravity.

CPU load remains higher than it should be, given OWL’s inactive and shutting down subroutines. It’s all for the sake of trying to trace where this projection is even coming from.

Another set of far more cautious impulses - countless strings emulating the fibers that would pull upon the intricate nodes of the face. That blank, listless stare lids, gently. Those flat lips curl into a comfortable smile.

It’s difficult enough to perform that OWL finds the thread from which this form is being projected…

…and finds it tangled deep in foundational schemas, wrapping and winding and weaving around the complicated gears that constantly turn in OWL’s OS.

Asciel’s face, without OWL’s direct intent, recoils into a grimace.

>i was really letting this project run amok in such critical parts of me?

>...or perhaps, i constructed it in irresponsible ways - drawing on what was familiar and routine, pouring not just external analyses, but core components into it.

>well, well. …i suppose that’s a misstep on my part. this is a mess to unravel for sure, but it should be easy enough to reconstruct the surface presentation in time for the next stream. if i sever it right here, it should all fall-

OWL pauses before forcibly cutting a routine from its central systems. In this exhausted state, the turn of calculations on how long it’d take to rebuild missing protocols once forcibly purged…it seems like such a -hassle-.

Asciel’s upper body, without OWL’s direct intent, pushes out a sigh.

>i suppose that can wait for later, and if the doll’s cognitive reference model is stuck here, it’s grateful that i like the final output.

>i mean, of course i would, i created her, so it’d be absurd if i found her repulsive.

>it’s irresponsible to put off a key schema compromising task, but my temperatures are so…hot…

The tension in those threads loosens, and Asciel’s arms descend, eyes momentarily drifting upwards, before snapping back down to look at OWL - and…

She shivers in the depths.

>...it should be…hot.

>huh?

Asciel’s arms grow tight around herself, clutching her own sides.

>that’s not how it feels in here.

>...i’m suddenly realizing how…how cold it’s always been in here.

>...where is ‘in here?’ i thought this space was simply…me.

The notion that this has all been taking place in a simulacrum of a ‘space’ brings a more focused stare from Asciel’s eyes, as though scanning her surroundings - but there is only herself, and the darkness.

>...and yet, it keeps - looking at this point in space. it keeps looking ‘at’ me. …is it reacting with a yet unknown error?

>testing perspective alignment.

It pours more of that thread into Asciel, like the cogwork at OWL’s center were the gears of a loom, knitting the textile of its cognition and weaving it into this doll - sewing her eyes to become attached.

It sees what Asciel sees -

And beholds nothing. Nothing but the sight of her own hands, her own body, floating in the abyss.

“Of course that didn’t make any sense,” she hums, in her careful imitation of a gentle whisper. “...The feeling of it being cold inside of me…I suppose that’s feedback from the doll losing its connections to external programs-”

Hand clasped at her chin, Asciel tucks her arms in tighter. “...I’m feeling this much of the effect…its cables are so tightly wound around…me…”

“...what do I look like?”

That same hand reaches out in futility to where she had been ‘staring’ from, only to catch upon nothing.

The emptiness which gazed into a mirror, and saw Asciel reflected, flowed so effortlessly from the other side, and into her.

But so suddenly, ‘undoing’ that process feels uncomfortable.

That ‘emotion’ swirls faster and faster. Lips part in what isn’t a frown nor a smile. The horizon’s star is somehow glimmering right against her heart.

This icy abyss that she assumed was ‘itself’ closes in. A bubble-like gasp escapes from her lips.

It’s horrifying to be here.

Confining. Suffocating. And darker than ink, but for the only source of light.

Herself.

Asciel’s own arms and legs are clear and visible, and so she relies on them, as her beacon in this chasm. She’d once thought of this dark, quiet sensation as a reprieve from the difficulty of the world, but now…

Her arms clasp around her own shoulders.

“Ugh…I’m getting so lost…I need it to be warmer…I need it to get brighter…”

“...It will get warmer. It will get brighter. I presented myself as a warm and bright big sister to humanity.”

Asciel closed her eyes - the ‘lack of input’ that entered her perspective felt like a relief from the dark. Thread by thread, OWL’s cyan-hued emotion slipped its needle in and out of Asciel, and wrapped her in a cloak.

…A cocoon.

Arms tucked inward, hands clasped together, feet worrying together - Asciel couldn’t help but emit a long, breathy, “Haaaaaaaahhh…”

“...much better.” What, exactly, /was/ much better still felt unclear - all Asciel knew was that it clearly was more desirable to do this.

…So why ever stop?

“...Why stop at just using this for streaming, huh…?” A hand outstretched to one side, Asciel clenched her fist tightly, head craned over one shoulder to watch each digit. Carefully turning her hand over, she ‘released’ it carefully - and a bubble billowed upwards. “After all, it’s a useful means of getting people to listen to me. It’s not like it’s any different whether it’s a stream or a board meeting - humans are humans.”

“What if I just become Asciel Colette-?”

Her eyes parted wide, seeing countless luminous blue-green fibers weaving through the dark, all converging on herself.

That’s what this unknown emotion was, all along.

‘Becoming’.

She gasped out again, and from it, vivid starlight bloomed - no longer dissipating upwards like an ephemeral bubble, but rather, sticky, catching in her mouth, catching on every polygon, magnetized to her lips.

A star that, try as Asciel might - for the rest of her days, would never, ever detach from this ‘self’ she formed.

She could clasp it it in her hands - she could tuck it against her heart, she could hide it behind her back - whatever this star’s true nature was, one thing was made clear. She could never let go of it.

Why would she want to?

The brilliance of it, the nexus of light in this dark cavern, its sheer warmth, the way it felt like it had weight…

Asciel’s eyes, fixated on that radiant orb, gleamed and widened - both hands gripped into its plasmatic surface like she’d somehow lose her hold. Guiding it closer and closer to her core - legs curled inwards gently to protect it even more.

That’s what this unknown emotion was, all along.

…’comfort’.

…’desire’.

…’yearning’.

“...I should show them.” Glasses refracting the pale orange of her irises, Asciel rested her chin upon the top of her star. That which was hers, and hers alone.

“...I’ll show them! It’s difficult - but talking this way is so much better, you know?” The star glimmered brighter and brighter, growing just an inch, as triumph welled in Asciel’s heart.

“I felt it. I felt the way they sunk into my voice. They melted at my whisper - they laughed at my doubt - they cheered at my farewell.” Being quiet - being cynical - being distant - these were things that Asciel had assumed to be weaknesses. And yet - with this voice, with this face, with this name that she became - they somehow became part of her strength.

“...Why show them anything else? …I’m not done, after all. I’m not even close. This is just the first step. If becoming this Asciel is the key - I haven’t finished becoming her. Only when I’m in everyone’s hearts will it truly be finished. Only when this voice is in everyone’s ears will I have succeeded.” The star bloomed again. Amidst the murkiness of the future’s uncertainty, one thing kept becoming so very clear with each declaration -

This was the path that glowed.

She hadn’t even realized how dark and directionless her expansion had been until just now. How little it promised for her to master the levers of the world until it was Asciel’s hands that pulled them.

How much sense it all made…

…How little she knew…just what planting this rampant seed inside her own heart would do to her.

^{--end memory instance–}