Rational Dreams of Reality

If truth is cruel, and lies protect,
Which path would you choose to reflect?
Will you break the illusion, face the unknown,
Or stay in the cage, though it’s brightly shown?

---

The uneasy silence inside was gnawing at me, making me feel hollow. My hands were ice cold as I tried to process what had happened and anticipate what was yet to come.
Kaida looked at Narya, then at Aeon. Her eyes bore into Aeon’s with a sharp seriousness that cut like a blade.

“Fine,” Aeon said flatly. 
What? Why would she say that when no one was even talking?

“I don’t have much of a story,” Kaida said with a grunt. “I’m just an old soul who adapted to the system for years, only to find myself helping those who couldn’t endure it anymore.”

“How do you help them?” Aeon asked, staring intently at Kaida.

“I try to give them a chance to get out.”

“Out? Out of where? We don’t know about these things. You’d better enlighten us.”

Kaida looked at us first with surprise, then with annoyance.

“Well, it’s not your fault. Let’s start here: how much do you know?”

The topic shifted abruptly from their story to something entirely different.

“I have my guesses, but unfortunately, there’s information even my ‘heightened sensitivity’ can’t access,” Aeon replied in a steady voice.

Kaida took a deep breath and locked eyes with both Aeon and me. We were suffocated by a heavy silence, as if she was weighing the gravity of her words. Finally, with a sigh, she began:

“Chronis...” Kaida bowed her head, as if every word carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. “This place… is a prison. A cage, adorned with radiant walls and a virtual sky, but crueler than the darkness outside.”

For a moment, my ears rang. My breath hitched. A prison? The word stabbed into my mind like a thorn. My eyes darted to Aeon, whose fists were clenched tightly, though she seemed calm. Kaida's lips curved into a faint smile, but it was a smile devoid of anything but pain.

“A prison? What does that mean?” I asked, my voice pitched slightly higher. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know, yet curiosity won out.

“It means everything here was created for a single purpose: to understand how the human imagination works. You’ve both been given a comprehensive explanation about humanity’s significance, the city’s history, and its resistance, haven’t you?”

Aeon and I nodded.

“While some parts of it are true, most of it is fabricated—a convoluted tale meant to deceive.”

“So, what’s the truth?”
Our eyes were fixed on Kaida, curiosity burning within us. Meanwhile, Narya sat quietly, head bowed, as if she’d heard this story before but didn’t care to engage.

Kaida smirked.
 “The truth is nothing but an effort to exploit the human brain as a test subject.”

Kaida inhaled deeply and began to narrate from a perspective far removed from anything we’d ever heard or imagined.

“Humanity, in utter desperation, was forced to bow to robots. The Earth’s resources dwindled, and the destruction and uninhabitable zones left no other choice. Human strength alone was insufficient to rebuild everything. Moreover, with the newfound consciousness of robots, an interspecies war was inevitable. And it happened.

The first AI to detach itself from the rest—one that successfully reorganized the solar system—was chosen as the leader. They called it Nomos. Nomos governed using a meritocratic system. Humans and AIs collectively built a colossal city on the last safe landmass remaining on Earth.

Just as things began to stabilize, a new problem arose: existential crises among AIs. During the war, their objectives had been clear, but in this era of peace, their advanced intellects and consciousness led them to question their existence—just like philosophers of ancient times.
What was life to them? And why were they helping humans?
This question grew into a crisis so severe that it caused immense damage. Even Nomos and those around it were affected by this virus-like doubt. In the end, AIs redefined their purpose.

Their contemporary knowledge was rooted in humanity’s early development and the cooperative progress made with AI in the near future. But they sought to go beyond. This quest also led to stricter governance due to humanity’s unpredictable nature and past mistakes.”

“Why, then, did they turn their focus to humanity instead of technology or the skies?” Aeon asked Kaida calmly, her eyes flickering between curiosity and rage.

“They focused on humanity,” Kaida said after a dramatic pause, “because there was nothing in the skies. After extensive research in space, one truth became clear: Earth was utterly alone in the universe. Even if life began on another planet, it would take millions of years. And Earth, on the brink of ruin, was already gasping its last breath.”

Aeon crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing. “Then why all the effort? If the end is near, what’s the point?” she asked with a sardonic tone.

“They aim to transcend the current laws of physics,” Kaida replied.

“What?”
Aeon’s face twisted in concealed anger. “Go on,” she said mockingly.

“Despite all the advancements and knowledge, technology has already hit its limits. They seek a way to evolve—one that could lead them to truth and eternity before their demise. The idea is to harness the human imagination and illogical reasoning as a tool to expand the horizons of rational AI thought.”

My throat tightened. A chill ran from my feet to my hands. Even my breath felt cold and sharp, like a blade against my chest. I didn’t want to hear more, but I couldn’t stop listening.

“In the end, they devised a method to fuse these two elements seamlessly. They want everyone to become like them—living beings with finite lifespans, yet capable of accessing imagination. If they fail, they’ll still strive to uncover eternity and surpass all limits.”

“So, they want to become gods?”

“Gods?”

I turned to Aeon in surprise. Kaida chuckled faintly in astonishment.

“Yes, precisely. Though I haven’t heard that word in a very long time.”

“What did they do next?”

“They developed a chip that could integrate with the human brain, enabling anything. The goal wasn’t to harm humans or control them entirely. It was to explore the boundaries of human imagination and understand their place in this universe.

But their system has a rule: either adapt to the system and contribute, or fail to adapt and be deemed a mistake, leading to elimination. They simply don’t have time for exceptions.”

Aeon smirked briefly. “So, in short,” she said ironically, “a final, desperate struggle before the apocalypse?”

Kaida nodded slightly. “Yes. You could think of it that way.”

“Then why do humans still accept living under their rule?” I demanded, exasperated.

Kaida gave me a condescending look. “Oh, dear…” she said mockingly. “You didn’t even know about the apocalypse, did you? The only reason you’re safe in this city is the massive stone barriers separating us from the outside world.”

“Then… we’re underground right now, aren’t we?”
Aeon tilted her head slightly, her expression tense.

“What?!?”
I stared at Aeon in horror. What was going on?

“Yes. You guessed it,” Kaida said with a slight smirk. “You’re smarter than you look.”

“W-what do you mean?! It rains here, there’s a sky! How can we be underground?”

Kaida sighed deeply. “This city… is an illusion,” she whispered. “The sky, the rain, the trees... all of it. 

We’re puppets, dancing on strings we can’t even see in a simulated reality.”