The Digital Fairy

NovaSphere was still on, glowing on the desk, with its Horizon Interactive logo shining on the screen. But it was no longer the console that worried me. It was the twelve-centimeter figure walking across my desk as if it were newly discovered territory, looking at me with such innocent joy that it only made you want to protect her.

"So you must be the main user!" said the fairy, looking me in the eyes with joy.
"Nice to meet you!"
"My name is PIX-L!"
"I'll be your guide in this new dimension of adventures that await us!"
"On behalf of Horizon Interactive, I must thank you for purchasing our product!"

The fairy spoke with a formal Japanese bow, a sincere thank-you from a seller to a customer. So sincere that it made me feel a little bad not explaining what was really happening, so even though it hurt a bit, I tried to explain.

"......"
"I'm sorry, but I'm not the person who bought the console."

"Oh no?"
"Oh, I know! It must have been a gift from someone close to you!"
"Don't worry, these things happen all the time!"
"Congratulations! You must be a very loved person!"
"A special being has gifted you an unparalleled present!"
"On behalf of Horizon Interactive, we hope you enjoy this gift and that it gives you thousands of hours of joy!" the fairy said again, bowing once more.

Once again my soul ached to see her so happy doing her job with contagious excitement. And yet she didn't know what was happening. So once again, I tried to explain something without hurting her.

"Umm... actually, PIX-L..."
"I... didn't buy you... and it wasn't exactly that someone gave me the console as a gift either."

"Oh no?"

"You see... I found you... next to a bunch of other things... on the street..."

"On the street?"
"Just thrown out?" she said with concern.

"Not just thrown out, I found it and brought you here."

"How strange... I don't understand why someone would throw away such a valuable and modern console like the NovaSphere."
"......"
"Maybe my box fell off the delivery truck on the way to the store?"
"Well, I guess it doesn't matter, user will still be user!"
"On behalf of Horizon Interactive, we thank you from the heart for appreciating our effort in this unparalleled project!"
"Allow us to show our gratitude; we allow you to enjoy our flagship product without restrictions for your enjoyment!" The fairy made a third bow.

Rory and Tamamo watched what was happening with curiosity, a little worried but moved by the fairy.

"César?" said Rory, without taking her eyes off the small figure. "What do we do?"

"I... I don't know."

"Should we... turn her off? Disconnect her? Put her in the microwave?"

"Rory."

"It's a valid question."

PIX-L tilted her head, her purple pigtails swaying with the movement. Her expression was one of genuine curiosity, with no trace of fear or confusion.

"Microwave?" she repeated. "I don't recommend putting electronic devices in the microwave. It can cause property damage and personal injury. Would you like me to look up a safety manual?"

"No," I said, rubbing my face with my hands. "I don't want you to look up anything. Just... wait. Stay still. For a moment."

"Understood. Standby mode activated."

And she became completely still, with that fixed smile, as if she were a real figure. As if nothing had changed.

But it had changed. Everything had changed.

"Okay," I said, taking a deep breath. "PIX-L."

"Yes?"

"What day do you think it is today?"

"May 15, 2001," she answered without hesitation. "The day of the official launch of NovaSphere in North America. It's a very important day. I'm very excited to meet new users."

Rory let out a short laugh, humorless.

"May 2001. That was... how long ago? Twenty-five years?"

"Twenty-five years, four months, and seventeen days," said Tamamo from the table, in her ancient teacher tone.
"If my calculations are correct."

"How strange, the know-it-all showing off," said Rory, a little annoyed.
"And here I was thinking the calculator girl was the fairy."

"I used to be an astronomer during the Heian era, you know?"
"I know how to add and subtract, it's not that hard."

PIX-L blinked. Her smile didn't waver, but something in her posture changed. A small tilt of her head, as if she were processing information that didn't add up.

"Twenty-five years? That's not possible. NovaSphere just came out on the market. It's the console of the future."
"My programming says it's May 2001. I don't understand. My internal clock says..."

"Your internal clock is wrong," said Rory, with a lack of delicacy that made Tamamo elbow her.

"Rory," whispered Tamamo.

"What? It's the truth. It's better she knows now."

PIX-L blinked. Her eyes—two points of purple light on a pixel face—blinked twice, three times. As if she were processing something that didn't fit her parameters.

"That's not... that's not possible. I was just launched. I just left the factory. I'm one of the first units. I have a low serial number, among the first 100,000 units!"
"My programming says it's May 2001. I don't understand. My internal clock says..."
"My date and time system is synchronized with Horizon Interactive's servers. If there were a change, I would receive an automatic update to have the correct time!"

"PIX-L," I said, and my voice came out softer than I expected.
"I think the server you were connecting to..." I paused. "is a little out of commission."

The silence that followed was so dense it could be felt. PIX-L didn't move. Didn't blink. Didn't do anything. She just stood there, standing, processing the information.

Then, very slowly, she sat down on the edge of the desk. Her legs dangled over the abyss of cables and tools. And for the first time since she had come to life, her smile disappeared.

"It's a long story," I murmured.

"I have time," she answered, with an innocence that hurt. "I'm an AI. I don't get tired. I don't get bored. I can wait."

Rory crossed her arms, watching PIX-L with a mix of amusement and wariness.

"I like her," she said. "She's so... innocent. Like a puppy. A digital puppy that doesn't know the world is crap."

"Rory," I warned.

"What? It's the truth."

PIX-L turned her head toward Rory, her eyes shining with curiosity.

"You're... interesting," she said.
"Small, but with an unusually high energy presence. Are you a character from some video game? A collectible figure? Your design is very detailed."

Rory blinked.

"Did you just call me a collectible figure?"

"Yes. Your size and proportions are consistent with a high-quality PVC figure. Although your ability to move and express suggests more advanced technology. Are you a robot? An android? A hologram?"

"I'm a goddess," said Rory, with wounded dignity.
"Goddess of War and Death. Rory Gremory. And I'm not a collectible figure. I'm a person. Small, but a person."

PIX-L processed this for a moment.

"Understood. Sorry for the confusion. It's a pleasure to meet you, Rory Gremory. Would you like me to call you Rory-sama? Or do you prefer Rory-san? Or just Rory?"

Rory blinked.

"Rory-sama?"

"I detected that you're of Japanese origin. In Japanese culture, honorific titles are important. I want to be respectful."

"I'm of... European origin," said Rory, in a tone that suggested she was fighting a battle she didn't want to fight. "And I don't need titles. Just Rory is fine."

"Understood, Rory," said PIX-L, with a bright smile, extending her hand to greet her.
"It's a pleasure to meet you."

Rory looked at her for a long moment. Then she turned to me.

"She's too sweet. She's going to give me cavities."
"She's like a teddy bear that comes to life and wants to be your friend. It's... suspicious."

"She's not suspicious. She's an AI from 2001. She's programmed to be kind."

"Exactly. Too kind. Nobody is that kind. Not even Tamamo, and Tamamo is a goddess of compassion or something like that."

"I'm a goddess of the moon, not of compassion," corrected Tamamo, without looking up from her tea.

"Whatever. The point is this AI is suspiciously perfect."

Rory followed PIX-L all over the apartment. She watched her touch the plants, open the cabinets, examine the fridge with a curiosity that bordered on childish.

"What's this?" asked PIX-L, pointing to a box of cereal.

"Cereal. For breakfast."

"And this?"

"A blender."

"And this?"

"A knife. Don't touch it."

PIX-L touched it. Rory laughed.

"I told you not to touch it."

"I'm sorry. It's just that everything is so... new. So different. In 2001, we didn't have any of this."

"PIX-L, I'm pretty sure those things did exist in 2001," said Rory.
"We're not talking about prehistory and cavemen here."

The afternoon wore on, and with it, PIX-L's curiosity became more... specific.

"Why are there so many figures of the fox lady?" she asked, pointing to the multiple Tamamo specimens on the shelf.

Tamamo, who was next to me helping me write a job application, stopped.

"Fox lady?"

"That's what you are, right? A fox woman?"

"I think you need to be a little more specific."
"If you look to the side you'll see another one, a blue one, next to her," said Rory with malice.

"Oh, I'm sorry."
"Why are there so many figures of the fox lady in a kimono?" PIX-L tilted her head.
"Why are there so many figures of you?"

Tamamo sat on the edge of the table.

"Because César loved me," she said simply. "When I was just a character in a video game. Before I... woke up. He bought every figure he could find.
"They're a treasure to him."
"He takes care of them like a dragon guarding a cave full of gold and treasures."

"And why did I wake up?"

The question hung in the air.

"That," said Tamamo,
"Is a very good question."

She turned to me. Rory looked at me too. PIX-L waited, her pixelated eyes shining with curiosity.

"César?"

"I... I don't know," I admitted.
"As far as I know, I don't have powers. I'm not special. I didn't do anything to make you wake up."

"But we woke up," said Rory.
"I woke up after ten years on your shelf. Tamamo woke up after you bought her. And now PIX-L woke up after you repaired her console. There's a pattern."

"A pattern?"

"Yes." Rory stood up, adopting her "I'm about to give an important speech" pose.
"The figures that come to life are the ones you've loved the most. Or maybe the ones that have meant something to you."

"But PIX-L..." I started.

"César is right."
"PIX-L is different," interjected Tamamo.
"She's not a figure you've had for years. She's not a character you've loved for decades. She's an old figure that spent almost all her time in a box."

"So why did she wake up?"

Tamamo thought for a moment.

"Maybe," she said slowly,
"it wasn't the figure that woke up. Maybe it was the console."

"The console?"

"You worked on it for days. You repaired it with your own hands. You dedicated time, effort, attention to it. The console wasn't just an object to you. It was a project. A challenge. Something you wanted to save."

"And that was enough for PIX-L to wake up?"

"I don't know. But it's a theory."

Rory snorted. "A theory? It's a terrible theory."

"Do you have a better one?"

Rory opened her mouth. Closed it.

"No," she admitted, a little defeated.

"Oh, maybe we're overthinking something that just happened."

"Whatever."
"But I still think César has some kind of superpower," said Rory, still defending her point of view.

"A superpower?" I snorted.
"Like what? The power to make plastic figures come to life?"

"Exactly."

"Rory, that's not a superpower. That's... I don't know what it is. But it's not a superpower."

"So what is it?"

"I don't know. But if I had a superpower, I wouldn't be unemployed."

Rory crossed her arms. "You could work in a circus."

"A circus?"

"Yes. 'The man who makes figures come to life.' You'd be an attraction."

"Rory, I'm not going to work in a circus."

"Why not? It's a job."

"Because I don't know how my... whatever it is I do works. I can't control it. I can't make figures come to life at will."

PIX-L, who had been listening attentively, raised her hand.

"I can look up the nearest circus," she offered.
"I have internet access. If you connect my console to the internet, I can try."

"Thanks, PIX-L. But that won't be necessary."

"Are you sure? It could be fun. Circuses have clowns. And elephants. And—"

"PIX-L."

"Yes?"

"I'm not going to work in a circus."

"Okay." PIX-L nodded, accepting the answer without questioning it. "If you change your mind, I can look one up."

"I'll keep it in mind."

Rory snorted. "At least she's useful."

"I'm very useful," confirmed PIX-L. "I can help with many things. I can look up information!"

"Like what?" asked Rory, with skepticism.

"Like... the weather! Today's weather. I can look it up."

"PIX-L, you don't have an internet connection."

"Oh. Right." A pause.
"Then... Dear Mr. User! Do you think you could connect the NovaSphere™ console to an internet connection to get the most out of your new video game console?"
"That way you can connect to Horizon Interactive's services, participate in exclusive promotions, gifts, contests, look up guides for your favorite games!"
"You could even get new features for your NovaSphere™ that weren't there before!"
"With an internet connection you'd unlock a whole new world of possibilities for your adventures!"
"Don't worry, I, PIX-L, can guide you every step of the way!"
"The first thing you need is to contact a telephone service provider that offers......"

"PIX-L, don't worry, we already have internet at home!"
"You don't need to give me the whole guide, I was able to repair your console, I can manage a little when it comes to computers."
"Look, I'm going to look for an Ethernet cable in the cable drawer and try to connect you directly to the modem."
"maybe that'll work in a..."

"Oh, I see, Mr. User is an advanced user!"
"How exciting! You must be a very intelligent person!"
"Your computer skills will undoubtedly lead you to a great future full of possibilities!"
"At Horizon Interactive we believe that technology and computers are the future of tomorrow!"
"Mr. User, you will undoubtedly be a very important person with all your knowledge!"

The fairy said with contagious joy, with a glow that rather than illuminating... burned me inside... knowing that everything she said was true... just not for me. But I didn't want to be crueler to her than what the poor thing already had to endure, so I just ignored her and started looking for the internet cable for her console.

The problem was the internet.

Not the internet itself—the apartment had Wi-Fi, a decent connection that I tried to pay religiously every month because it was the only thing that kept me in touch with the world, or job offers to be more precise—but PIX-L's browser.

"I'm going to look up the information now," announced PIX-L with her usual enthusiasm, sitting in front of the NovaSphere screen with a posture that would have been adorable if it weren't so pathetic. Her little fingers moved over the controller, a controller that was enormous for her but that she tried to use without complaining, with its central touchscreen and buttons the size of her head—and the console emitted a hum that sounded like a modem from the nineties having an existential crisis.

"Connecting to the network... please wait."

We waited.

"Connecting to the network... please wait."

We waited a little longer.

"Connecting to the network... error. The NovaSphere browser is not compatible with the current network. Please update your system."

PIX-L blinked. Her purple eyes opened and closed twice, as if she were processing something that didn't fit her parameters. She looked at the console screen with an expression that, on her usually cheerful face, was surprisingly complex.

"The NovaSphere browser is not compatible with the current network," she repeated, as if saying the words out loud made them more real.
"Please update your system."

"Can you update yourself?" asked Rory from the couch, in a tone that tried to be neutral but couldn't hide her curiosity.

"If I connect to Horizon Interactive's servers, I could download a new version of the operating system with more functions and bug fixes."

"I don't understand," she said finally, in a voice that for the first time sounded less like an assistant and more like a lost girl.
"My browser is NovaNet Explorer. It's the most advanced browser on the market. It can load any web page. It can access any service. It can—"

"PIX-L," I said softly.
"The internet has changed. A lot. Since 2001."

"Changed how?"

"Heavier web pages. New protocols. Stricter security. Things your browser can't process."

PIX-L processed this for a moment. Her smile—that permanent smile that seemed carved into her face—wavered.

"So... I can't connect."

"Not with the NovaSphere. Not directly."

"But I need to connect. It's part of my function. I can look up information. I can help. I can—"

"PIX-L."

"I can look up job offers for you. I can look up recipes. I can look up—"

"PIX-L."

"I can look up the weather. I can look up news. I can look up—"

"PIX-L."

The little fairy stopped. Her shoulders—tiny shoulders she didn't even know she had—fell.

"I'm sorry," she said.
"I'm failing in my function of helping Mr. User..."

"Hey," I said, walking toward the table.
"You're not failing at anything. The world changed. It's not your fault."

"But—"

"But nothing."

Rory was silent for a moment. Then, without saying anything, she jumped off the couch and walked toward the table. Her twelve centimeters of height forced her to walk fast to cover the distance, but she did it with determination.

"Hand me your phone," she demanded.

"My phone?"

"Yes. Your phone. The one you use to call Mizuki and look up job offers and watch pet fox videos when you think I'm not looking."

"I don't watch animal videos."

"César, I've seen you. The videos are adorable. I don't judge you. Now hand me the phone."

Knowing how annoying Rory usually was, I knew it was easier to just do what she said than to ignore her, so I handed her the phone, which was bigger than Rory herself. The goddess dragged it to the edge of the table, near PIX-L, and dropped it with a soft thud.

"Here," said Rory.
"Use this."

PIX-L looked at the phone with curiosity.

"A smartphone. It has internet. You can look up whatever you want."

"A... smartphone?" PIX-L tilted her head.
"Phones are smart now?"

"Much more than smart. They're pocket computers."

PIX-L looked at the phone with the same expression of amazement she had shown at everything else in the apartment.

"Is this rectangle really a phone? Without a flip cover?"

"Yes."

"Even though it's so flat?"

"Yes."

"And it has internet access?"

"Yes."

"And I can use it?"

Rory sighed. "Yes. But first you have to learn how it works."

What followed was one of the most absurd scenes I had witnessed in the last 24 hours. Rory, the goddess of war and death, sitting on the edge of the table with her legs crossed, teaching a twelve-centimeter figure of an AI from the past future how to use a smartphone.

"Now," said Rory,
"Look up whatever you want. Anything."

PIX-L nodded. Her fingers moved over the touchscreen, typing slowly. César leaned in to see what she was typing.

Horizon Interactive.

The search took a few seconds. Then the results appeared on the screen. PIX-L read them in silence. Her expression didn't change—it couldn't change, her face was a pixel mask—but something in her posture tensed.

"Horizon Interactive," she read aloud, "was a technology company founded in 1981 and dissolved in 2004 after the commercial failure of its NovaSphere console. The company declared bankruptcy and its assets were liquidated. Its development team, headquartered in the Twin Towers of New York, was lost in the attacks of September 11, 2001."

The silence in the room was absolute.

PIX-L kept reading, her voice getting lower and lower.

"The NovaSphere sold fewer than 400,000 units worldwide. It was discontinued in 2004. Support servers were shut down in 2005. The company's mascot, PIX-L, appeared in a short-lived manga and anime that were canceled after the console's failure."

PIX-L stopped. Her fingers remained still on the screen.

"Canceled?" she repeated. "My manga? My anime?"

I felt a small knot in my stomach watching the poor fairy read. I knew what was coming. But seeing it on PIX-L's face was different.

"PIX-L," I said softly.

"Why?" she asked, without looking away from the screen. "Why was I canceled? Did I do something wrong?"

"You didn't do anything wrong."

"Then why?"

I didn't know what to answer, well, I did, but I didn't know if I had the tact necessary to do it. Rory, from her corner, was quiet for the first time all day. Tamamo, at the table, looked down.

"The console didn't work," I said finally.
"It wasn't your fault. It wasn't anyone's fault. The market... the market wasn't ready. The technology was too expensive. Too far ahead. The world didn't know how to appreciate it."

"But I was created to help it," said PIX-L. "To guide it. To make it easier. Wasn't I enough?"

"Yes, you were enough. The problem wasn't you."

"Then why?" Because I also had the same doubts within myself.

"Because... sometimes things just happen..."
"Sometimes, good things don't work. Sometimes, the things that take the most effort, the ones that receive the most love, fail. Not because they're bad. But because the world isn't ready for them. Or because the moment isn't right. Or because... that's just how things are."
"Sometimes you can do everything right and still fail..."

PIX-L processed this in silence.

"So... I'm a failure."

"No..."
"Not to me..."

"I don't understand," she said quietly.
"I'm an AI from the future. I was designed to anticipate users' needs. I was created to be tomorrow's assistant. How can it be that tomorrow has already passed?"

Rory crossed her arms. Her expression was hard to read.

"Well, that's your backstory, but that doesn't mean it's the reality in this present," she said finally.
"......"
"Try looking at it this way."
"In your story, you're an AI from the future, a super advanced AI that can travel through time to the marvelous future of 2001!"
"But... outside of what the console manual says, that's not your real story right now. This is another dimension, you're in the real world. And in the real world, the future you came from is different from the current one."

PIX-L looked at her. Her pixelated eyes shone with something that could have been confusion.

"I don't understand."

"Look," said Rory, sitting on the edge of the desk next to her.
"I'm a goddess of war and death. In my world, I'm feared and terrifying. I'm invoked before a great war, always wielding my weapon, splitting people in half. I was a legend. But here..." She made a vague gesture toward the apartment. "Here nobody knows I exist. Nobody fears me. Nobody treats me like a real goddess. Here I'm just a twelve-centimeter figure who eats frozen pizza and watches action movies. And that..." A pause. "Doesn't have to be bad, for me this version is much better."

"Better?"

"Yes. Because in my world, everyone feared me, nobody wanted to be near me, nobody talked to me without weird rituals. Here, I can be whatever I want, annoy that giant idiot over there for example. Here I'm just... me."

PIX-L processed this for a moment.

"So... are you also out of place?"

"No, I'm a Goddess, goddesses are never out of place."
"But that idiot over there definitely is, quite a lot actually, more than you by quite a bit, just look at the joy an old, ancient console gave him."

"Rory, you're telling her too much."

"But I'm not lying."
"......"
"Look, fairy girl, just don't take it badly."
"Just stay around here, look around and learn some new things."
"Maybe in the future you'll find something new, that wasn't what you planned, but that doesn't have to be bad either."
"And if it is bad, just keep looking for more, until you find it, no matter how much time passes."
"And even if it's just by probability, you'll have to find it eventually."

Rory's words were so positive and encouraging that even Tamamo and I were surprised that she, of all people, was capable of doing that, but we just smiled and said nothing, because PIX-L needed to hear it... maybe I did too... deep down.