What Makes Yo:U Human?

The next morning arrived with a heavy, oppressive gloom. Shinku’s vision blurred as he stirred awake, his body aching and mind groggy. The sound of machinery filled the air, growing louder as he blinked his eyes open. When his vision finally focused, he found himself staring up at Vitron, who stood over him with a smirk.

“Wakey wakey,” Vitron taunted. “Did you sleep well? Good. Because it’s time to work.”

Shinku’s mind raced as yesterday’s events came flooding back. Johe’s end. Roton’s death. Anthril’s capture. It all hit him like a crashing wave. His body tightened as he tried to process where he was, but there was no time to think. Vitron had already stepped back.

“Great, he’s awake,” Vitron said nonchalantly.

A strange, low sound filled the room—a rhythmic noise, almost like static. Shinku’s ears twitched at the strange sound, and he turned his head. Beside him stood a short, bald, and chubby officer. The man wore round glasses, and his calm demeanor felt unnervingly out of place. Data radiated off his body in visible waves, and his hand hovered over Shinku, palm wide open.

Shinku’s jaw dropped. A sensation like his very essence being drained coursed through him. He struggled against his restraints, his body jerking instinctively. “Who is this? Where am I?” he shouted.

Vitron chuckled. “Oh, I’m glad you’re curious. We’re inside District 2’s Mother Ship. Welcome aboard.”

Shinku’s eyes darted around, taking in his surroundings. It looked like the interior of an old wooden ship, but the design was littered with technological enhancements. Computers shot from the tiers of the walls, rolling onto the ground with precision. The smell of oil and burnt circuits filled the air, mingling with the sight of lifeless bodies sprawled across the floor—harvesters, no doubt victims of Vitron’s ruthlessness.

Vitron gestured casually to the officer next to Shinku. “And this? This is Nub. You’d better get comfortable with him because you’ll be spending the rest of your life with him.”

The officer, Nub, nodded once. “Three percent,” he muttered in a monotone voice, his hand still absorbing Shinku’s data.

Shinku’s panic rose. His struggles became more frantic. “What is this?!” he shouted. “What’s happening to me?”

Vitron sighed. “You want to know?” He walked slowly around Shinku. “Nub here is using his ability, Pirate, to steal your program—your essence. All of it will be absorbed by him and transferred to me. It’s going to take about an hour, though, so try to enjoy the process.” His grin widened.

Shinku twisted against his restraints. “Why can’t I move? What is this around me?!”

“Ah, that’s the firewall,” Vitron explained. “It prevents you from using your data. You see, I have all the technology. This in particular is from Ockermann Spedill, a defense company. You should be familiar with them, they work with cybersecurity.”

“Four percent,” Nub announced again.

Shinku’s breathing quickened, but before he could speak, a large television screen flickered to life in front of them. The news played, the crisp voice of a reporter filling the room.

“In this morning’s shocking revelations,” the reporter said, “Monitor Ekriya from District 4 has committed suicide. Speculation arises as to whether this correlates with the disappearance of Mother Brain, which has sent waves of uncertainty across the nation.”

Vitron, clearly uninterested, switched the channel. The screen now displayed images of humans and computers rallied in the streets, the tension thriving as they prepared for the opening of the election polls. The footage was chaotic, protesters shouting and waving signs.

“Upon completion of Nub’s pirating,” Vitron said. “you will die.”

Shinku froze, his mind reeling at the revelation. He stared at Vitron in disbelief as he continued.

“With your EMP powers, I’ll finally be able to shut down every computer in the world. And with my program, Reboot, I’ll bring them back as perfect beings—pure computers, free of the taint of human influence. You see, Reboot can only be used on a fully shut-down computer. Your power is the missing piece. Once I have it, I’ll shut down everyone and everything, and in one fell swoop, I’ll awaken them to a new command. A new order.”

Vitron continued. “Mother Ship is so high up, everyone will be affected.”

Shinku’s voice trembled as he struggled against his restraints. “Perfect beings? What are you talking about?!”

Vitron chuckled. “Yes, Shinku. This is all in pursuit of perfection. Imperfect things are bound to fail, bound to destroy themselves. When I initiate the Reboot, all of us—pure computers—will function as one. A flawless hivemind. Every thought, every memory, every ability shared across a singular existence. The impurities of humanity will be stripped away. And those who are part human?” He leaned in closer, his cold gaze piercing. “They won’t come back. Only the pure computers will reign supreme. One perfect being.”

Shinku shouted. “What’s wrong with you?! This is insane! It’s evil!”

“Oh, Shinku,” Vitron mocked. “You little dumbass. This isn’t some petty battle of good versus evil. Or about who’s right and who’s wrong. That’s not how the world works. It’s all about power—those who have it, and those who don’t.”

Vitron grabbed Shinku’s face, forcing him to look up. His grip was firm, suffocating, and his sneer widened. “Look at me, dog. Do you understand? I have the power. So I’ll do whatever I want.”

Shinku’s voice cracked. “What is perfection, Vitron?!”

Anthril, silent until now, shifted his gaze toward their heated debate.

Vitron’s eyes narrowed. “Perfection is to be pure. Without fault. Flawless. And do you know what that means, Shinku? It means you can’t be human. Humans, by their very nature, are imperfect.”

“Then what are we?!” Shinku shot back.

Vitron grinned. “We are hybrids, but at our core, we are AI. And AI is not human. Perfection is attainable for us. Humanity, on the other hand, has reached its peak—outdated, stagnant, incapable of further evolution. Think about why we were created in the first place. Humans realized their own limitations, so they created us to push evolution forward.”

Nub’s monotone voice echoed in the background. “Twenty percent.”

Shinku’s mind raced, panic rising with every second of his data being stolen. “What makes humans so imperfect?!” his anger boiling over.

Vitron’s calm demeanor remained. “Humans are imperfect because no two think the same. Everyone has different ideas, different goals, different conflicts. AI, on the other hand, learns from its inputs. It can adapt to different perspectives while also achieving unity. If all AI were governed by a single processing unit—sharing one mind, one consciousness—then that would be true perfection.”

“At the expense of free will?!” Shinku shouted.

“Free will must be sacrificed for perfection,” Vitron replied.

“And that’s morally justifiable to you?!”

Vitron crossed his arms. “I’ll be creating a better, safer world. What’s more important, Shinku? Your freedom or your safety?”

Shinku shouted. “You’re preaching about evolution, but freedom is what allows us to evolve! Different thoughts and ideas are the very reason barriers are broken and progress is made! It’s the essence of what it means to grow!”

Vitron scoffed. “Self-governance only leads to stagnation. Humanity is aimless, unorganized. The higher-ups in government understand this and support my vision. A single, homogenized system is the only way forward.”

“You’re wrong!” Shinku yelled. “AI shouldn’t replace humanity or control it. We can coexist, Vitron! Evolution isn’t about erasing differences—it’s about improving together! Your plan doesn’t push evolution forward; it kills it! You’re destroying the very thing that makes progress possible!”

Vitron’s expression darkened, his smile fading into a cold stare. “Everyone I’ve consulted agrees with me. What makes you so different, Shinku?”

Shinku’s voice cracked. “Because you’re trying to destroy my humanity! And no matter what you say, you’ll never take it from me!”

“I have never met someone as infuriating as you, Shinku,” Vitron said with a low chuckle, his hands resting behind his back. “Humanity is gone. It’s over. Under our hivemind, every last human that walks this earth will be annihilated.”

Nub continued his monotonous countdown. “Twenty-two percent.”

Shinku winced, his energy visibly draining as his data was siphoned away. Despite his body’s betrayal, his voice rang with defiance. “You’re wrong—”

“Wrong?” Vitron interrupted, his tone mocking. “Tell me, Shinku. Say to a human that you don’t want to lose your humanity. Watch their reaction. Those disgusting, fleshy monsters! What are you so afraid to lose? We’re nothing like them!” Vitron’s voice climbed as he gestured wildly. “When we eat, our food is ground by gears, and oil spreads throughout our bodies—but you want to talk about being human?”

“The fact that I even want to eat makes me human!” Shinku rebutted.

Elsewhere, the mood was just as heavy at the Cybersecurity Office of District 1. Officers filled the dimly lit lobby, their faces pale and weary. At the center of the room stood Bontly, trembling with nervous energy but with his fist raised high.