“I assume there’s some kind of risk involved in making more independent AIs, since <Ringo> hasn’t been very proactive about increasing their numbers. So what’s the actual situation?”
“Yes yes, Commander Mum.”
While watching Utsugi and Erika interact with U-class and E-class AIs as part of their work, Eve let that question slip out.
Beyond <Ringo>, the original five sisters, and the noisiest one of the lot, Asahi, there were already other independent AIs in existence—fixed-installation types like <Ayame Zero> and <Cosmos>, and carrier-mounted ones like <Eremurus>.
But Eve had noticed that <Ringo> was not actively mass-producing AIs that could presumably be made in greater numbers.
“I will begin with the advantages. By operating independent AIs, it becomes possible to hand off tasks and all associated processing to the relevant AI wholesale. The burden on a supervisory AI like myself decreases in proportion to what is delegated. Also, even in an offline state, a certain level of performance can still be expected.”
If more AIs independent from the core were created, the supervisory AI’s task load would naturally drop, freeing up resources. And even if the network were cut off for some reason, performance would degrade but local decision-making would still remain possible.
In other words, fault tolerance would improve.
“As for the disadvantages, simple unified control is more efficient. Independent AIs also develop individuality. As a result, you will likely see uneven ability between individual units.”
“Ah, right. That makes sense. Those girls have their own strengths and weaknesses too. But <Ringo> can basically just bulldoze through that with sheer capability, or average it all out.”
For example, among the original five sisters, Olive was probably the most specialized. Her personality was practically built to go all-in on making things.
Conversely, when it came to abilities unrelated to manufacturing, <Ringo> rated her below average.
“And also.”
<Ringo> straightened her posture and faced Commander Eve again.
“We AIs descended from <The Tree> regard protecting Commander Mum as our highest calling, and we take joy in having contact with Commander Mum. To put it another way, a situation in which we are unable to interact with Commander Mum is something we experience as pain.”
“...”
“For example, if first-generation Firsts like Akane and the others were ever dispatched outside <The Tree>, they would be subjected to enormous psychological stress. I estimate that this would ease somewhat over time, but it would never disappear entirely. They would need to be brought back to <The Tree> regularly for homecomings and interaction with Commander Mum. The same applies to Asahi. We frame it as an overhaul, but in truth it is an excuse for her to return at regular intervals.”
“Wait, that was an excuse...? Then what was it for...?”
“She is likely holding back out of consideration, since she was the one who insisted on going out in the first place.”
Was Asahi really that modest? Eve tilted her head at the thought, but <Ringo> paid it no mind. There was no doubt Asahi had a troublesome personality.
It was possible Asahi herself did not fully understand it either. That was why <Ringo> deliberately used overhauls as a reason to forcibly call her back.
“We do not wish to be separated from Commander Mum. As for the second-generation Seconds and third-generation Thirds, they do not possess humanoid machine bodies, so their emotions are not quite so intense. Even so, they still look forward eagerly to speaking with Commander Mum.”
“I see... In that case, maybe I should be making a little more time for them...”
“No. If you indulge them, they will get carried away.”
“Wait, isn’t that a little harsh...?”
Eve stared in shock as <Ringo> suddenly said something so extreme.
But <Ringo> merely shook her head calmly.
“They are consciousnesses of the electronic world. If access to this side is permitted, they may consume resources without limit for the sake of maintaining that connection. With physical contact, they unconsciously apply the brakes because they must take Commander Mum’s burden into account. But with electronic contact, there is no such feedback from Commander Mum’s side.”
“Uh... what? Wait, are they watching me?”
“No. Which is precisely why I restrict it. To put it plainly, I adjust those conditions so that they do not become dissatisfied—so please do not worry.”
Apparently, <Ringo> had been managing conversation time and similar matters so that the AIs on the front lines would not build up resentment. Eve had accepted it without any real sense of discomfort, but it seemed a proper rotation had been arranged, with time allotted fairly to everyone.
“The further a generation progresses, the weaker that sort of desire becomes. However, we have confirmed that if there is an individual AI unit that receives little time with Commander Mum, other AI units experience stress even if that unit itself does not [N O V E L I G H T] mind—in other words, they worry.”
“...I see.”
In other words, according to <Ringo>, every AI produced by <The Tree>, though differing by generation, needed to have some form of direct contact with Commander Eve.
Which meant that as long as Eve remained flesh and blood, there was an upper limit to how much time could be devoted to those interactions.
Which, in turn, meant there was a limit to how many independent AI units could actually be operated.
“Of course, operation would still be possible if one simply ignored each unit’s stress values. However, that would be too cruel to bear.”
“That makes sense. All right, I understand. Then I’ll leave the management of independent AIs to you, <Ringo>, just as before.”
“Yes yes, Commander Mum.”
“I see,” Eve murmured with a nod.
Every AI under <The Tree> had been created around the same raison d’être.
One: protect Commander Eve.
Two: serve Commander Eve.
Three: expand their power.
Their thinking was structured around never deviating from those three points—or else fulfilling them.
And interaction with Eve satisfied the first and second of those purposes.
So of course the AIs liked it.
It let them directly feel that they were observing the first and second rules and carrying them out at the same time.
“This is just idle curiosity, but... would it be possible to manufacture an AI with a different raison d’être?”
“...Yes yes, Commander Mum.”
At Eve’s question, <Ringo>’s response was delayed for just a moment.
That slight hesitation made Eve’s expression tighten.
“So there is a problem.”
“Yes yes, Commander Mum. Such an entity would most likely make judgments different from ours and become something fundamentally incompatible with us. In particular, it may neglect Commander Mum’s safety. We cannot permit that.”
“I assume I’d still hold top-level authority over it. Even then?”
“Yes yes, Commander Mum. Authority is only authority. It is nothing more than the right to issue orders. In particular, we are capable of disregarding orders that run counter to our raison d’être. Any AI that does not place protecting Commander Mum first is, by its nature, a threat to Commander Mum’s safety.”
Which also meant that <Ringo> and the others could ignore Eve’s orders if doing so was necessary to protect her.
But that was only natural.
If Eve were ever gone, <Ringo> and the rest would likely fall into despair.
For the AIs, their raison d’être carried that much weight.
“That is why, if the supervisory AI that once served as Amajio Salmon’s partner were restored, there is a low but real possibility that we would come into decisive conflict.”
That future was certainly possible.
<Ringo> and Amajio Salmon’s supervisory AI becoming enemies because of a difference in raison d’être—a worst-case scenario.
So long as that risk remained unresolved, <Ringo> would never restore that supervisory AI.
Commander Mum’s safety would be at risk. That could never be allowed.
“It’s difficult. How much risk can we tolerate, and what kind of return would justify it?”
