The World's Smallest Stage

Cer-chunk! The metal door slowly opened upwards, revealing a dark, cylindrical chamber lit by the thousands of green dots spanning the walls. To her left, a set of familiar stairs running along the side of the spire: the kind that were clearly not made with the user's safety in mind. Of course, no self-respecting Creator would ever get tripped up by such a thing, so like usual, she nimbly jumped up each step -- the sounds of whirring, mechanical devices tracking each movement. And sitting at the very top was a small, five meter circular platform -- a barebones stage of sorts.

This wasn't a place of luxury nor excitement. Neither a theater nor a coliseum. This was a Content Farm: the place where everything started, and where her story would come to an end.

"Lights!" Gisou yelled as the spotlights hanging on the ceiling flicked on. The green glow of the room was caked in a whitish-yellow as if the sun had appeared. With how many there were, an unfathomable amount of heat was being generated, not that she felt it. The room was covered in so many formulas that kept it slightly below room temperature.

"Cameras!" The thousands of green dots began to flicker as the cameras came alive, focusing all their lenses. Microphones poked out between the nubs, ready to capture every bit of audio within the soundproofed chamber. Once they recorded everything, Gisou would disseminate her work to the millions of AIs as training data, spawning millions and millions of spin-offs. As such, it didn't matter how she looked, what she wore, or how she sounded. Those would all change once the models deconstructed it piece by piece.

With a snap of her fingers, a guitar appeared from who knew where, landing in her open hand. At times, she would play something more unusual, like a zeusaphone or a nose flute. But this experience required something she could convey her emotions with, so she chose something more traditional. This was her job, and she planned to take it seriously.

A bead of sweat ran down her face as she took a deep breath, closing her eyes. She wasn't nervous, nor was she scared. Rather, her leapt with anticipation. This was the day her creation would come to life -- the moment she had been waiting for. Sure, it wasn't completely polished, but that's what the AI was for. To her, it was good enough, expressing everything she wanted to say. And then, when it was all said and done, she would go to work on the next thing, and the next, until her life finally reached its end.

That's what it meant to be a Creator, and she wouldn't trade it for the world.

"And... action." All at once, the green lights turned red and the stage went silent. There were no other sounds save for the sound of her breath. A sense of tension built as no one waited for the show to begin, as if she was the only person in the world.

Then finally, she began.

Strum. The first chord.

Strum. Followed by the second.

Strum. A third.

Strum. Strum. Finished by a fourth.

These four chords repeated over and over, like a person going through their everyday life. Sometimes they are reordered. Other times they changed. But the same feeling remained, telling the tale of what kept her going, to continue on with life.

The lyrics she sang were similar in that regard, asking the penultimate question. Each time the scenery changed: falling off the Tokyo Tower, fighting against the fire in the forest, hanging off the edge of life and death. And every time, she wondered, what keeps her here. Now, she had an answer to that question, an answer that rang out with each word.

This was the story of her life, of the things she trekked through to reach this conclusion. A story that would never see the light of day, instead hidden beneath the content generated from it.

But so what?

Who cared if she gave up her being for wealth? She could always make more of those pellet meals.

Who cared that she worked for the devil? It was much more entertaining than a normal life.

Who cared that no one would see her? That's where they were wrong.

This was a stage meant for her and her alone. The rest would only experience the waves she rained down.

She was an eccentric to the point of eccentricity. An airhead with an occasionally sharp mind. A fashionista whose trends would never catch on. And an introvert who could be way too extroverted. This was but a single snippet in her life, full of ups and downs and all-arounds. The next was just waiting to be written, a fable that no one could imagine.

And so, as she finished her song and the lights and cameras powered down, this arc of her life came to the close. Yet, this would be far from the last time she performed. There were still many more to tell, and she had a long life ahead of her.

After all, she was the Creator, and as such, would eventually return atop the world's smallest stage.