Editing Amaryllis in the Ice Country:Chapter 7 (section)

===Part 13===

Emergency proposition…

This is a third option after the motion to ‘wipe out humanity’ and ‘have humans keep living’—it’s called the ‘a preposition for both humans and robots to coexist’.

With everyone looking at me on the stage, I start to explain with confidence.

“Just a few hours ago, I went to check on the surface.”

The arena is buzzing.

“This is the footage that serves as proof.”

I show the image I saw of the surface on the stage screen. The sky after a hundred years, the warm sunlight, the warmth that’s coming back. I convey all the data stored in my Mind Circuit, including the corpses of the work robots I encountered along the way. I hope for humans and robots to coexist, and I feel that the most proper way to go about doing it is to reveal everything on the footage.

“As everyone knows, there is a large generator built on the surface. That’s the facility used to provide power for work robots like everyone here when building the Snow White. If the surface temperature recovers, this means we can get this generator to restart. The power lines can then be assured, starting with the air conditioning, and the chances of us living together with our masters will be better than before.”

The arena starts to explode in commotion. The villagers exchange looks, shaking as though they’re rattled by my words.

Of course, there is opposition.

“If the generator can’t work again, what do we do…?”

There’s a sharp scathing voice from the front rows.

“If we do return to the surface, and it’s still not working, then we’re all doomed!? You dare say there’s no problem!?’

“This is.”

In the face of such a fiery question, I can’t help but stammer. I can’t say something irresponsible like ‘no problems at all’.

At this moment.

“No problems! Not only do we have the main crystal furnace in that type of generator, we also have traditional sub-generators. The usual fossil fuel there should be enough! So don’t worry!”

—Ah!

Shocked, I look over at the voice. There’s a woman with red hair in the middle of the arena, standing there with a hand on her waist. She exchanges looks with me.

—Viscaria.

“We can get the generator running again. Leave this to me.”

She concludes decisively.

This relief from her has me really grateful. The man questioning me seem shocked by the unexpected counterargument, “Well, whatever, so…” and returns to his seat.

I then seize the opportunity to say,

“It’s true that I can’t be sure that it’ll definitely succeed. This plan needs a lot of labor, starting from the preparation phase. But please calm down and think about it. Even if we do stay in the village, we will end up ruined by another earthquake that may come. It’s not too late. Since we still have our batteries working till this point, this is the best chance to escape the village.”

I confidently narrate. The faces of the villagers are filled with life, and it gets increasingly cheery.

And before I end off my speech, I deal a ‘finishing blow’

“Everyone, before you came here, I suppose you have seen ‘that footage’, right? I too have seen it, and to be honest, I am really rattled. But,”

I take out a chip from my pocket, and raise it high enough for everyone to see. It’s a microchip the size of a little fingernail—a high end memory chip.

“That footage isn’t the only thin contained in this chip, It’s halfway saved, but there’s such a video inside.”

The footage is then aired on the screen.

It’s a footage of daily life.

First appearing is a tall, lanky woman. This woman with black flowing hair is seated on a bench, reading a book. Standing politely beside her is a girl. The girl is dressed in a maid outfit, and the antenna extending out from her ears clearly show that she’s a robot.

The master, and the robot serving her. This is a common scene from far back.

The woman and robot rely on each other like sisters, reading the same book. The robot will give a few looks at the woman, or lean on the shoulder fawningly. Whenever this happens, the woman will smile gracefully, stop flipping the book, and lend the girl her shoulder.

This initial footage lasts for a minute or so, and then, the footage changes to another scene. It’s the scene of a human and a robot working together in a certain small factory. The robot produces the goods, and the human inspect them. Once inspection is done, the human pats the robot on the shoulder in a consoling manner. Only when they leave the mini factory did the footage end. They’re like intimate brothers.

And so, such scenes change over and over again, the scenes of humans and robots living together, working together, helping each other out.

Every footage lasts less than a minute, and in all, it appears to be no more than fifteen minutes, without any sounds. Finally, there is the logo of the producer, showing that it’s a promotional video used to promotion coexistence between humans and robots.

Perhaps it’s made for show, that the footage is made for a certain purpose, or maybe it might be an idealization of humanity.

But despite this, the footage awakens the precious memories deep within our hearts. Humans will die one day, but robots won’t die easily. The robots who lost their masters and were left behind experienced long memories that won’t fade away, living on until they become scrapped metal.

Thus, the old memories remain piled inside the Mind Circuit, and they can be repeated over and over again without fading away. The clear sadness that can’t be forgotten shall always remain etched in our chests.

Before I know it, everyone’s crying. They recall the memories they spent with their masters, the memories that are as precious as gemstones.

I recall my time working in the kindergarten. The lively children, the earnestly mothers, and the amicable Principal.

I look back, and Viscaria is crying too. She probably recalls the superintendent of the automobile repair factory. That’s the one she would reminisce from time to time, the when she would blush whenever she talked with. There’s a barrier between humans and robots that can never be overcome, and they’re unable to get together.

Götz too was crying. He must have been thinking of the director when he was still an actor. When he was about to be scrapped, the director kept him, and groomed him until he became famous, the benefactor.

The children too are crying. They recall their dead parents and the siblings they broke off with. To me, a nanny robot, I understand them really well.

All of them are dejected, lonely. They recall the blissful days they can never return to, their longing for masters filled are of such pain and destitute over the past hundred years, a time of enduring such loneliness. However, we don’t hate this; instead, we enjoy the work heartily, offering our bodies. For we always have the dream of working together with our masters.

The footage ends.

I give a deep bow, and descend the podium.

Soon, Cattelya’s voice rings.

“Is there anyone else who wants to say anything?”

Even Cattleya is crying. Surely she is thinking of her beloved husband.”

—Ah!

At this moment.

Chief appears on the stage. His head is rolling about.

I hold my breath; everyone’s eyes are gathered upon a spot.

—What will he say?

I feel uneasy. I have nothing else that can convince them. If I get routed by Chief here, there’s no way back.

Chief sits on the podium.

And all he says is,

“Time for voting.”

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