Nirvana

                                        1

NITO

2177

Can the will to life supersede death itself?

Can man determine the course of his existence?

Does every individual get a say in the grand scheme binding us all?

Of course not. Everybody knows that. At least, most people do. Even those who refuse to acknowledge it can’t help but sense it. The inevitable truths that will, that must enfold. They call it destiny, God’s plan, the will of the universe, and whatnot. The world keeps on spinning, all a man can do can plant his feet on the ground.

They’re dead wrong.

Simply put, it’s an uninformed perspective. They see only part of the bigger picture, and lack the peripheral vision to grasp the whole truth. But it’s for the best, because the dark truth lurking in the corners doesn’t make for a savory sight. ‘Ignorance is bliss’, no? The masses simply trudge along their path, with no threats to this illusion their sanity is hinged upon.

To attain a certain degree of awareness, now that’s the worst. At that point, you can no longer indulge in these lies. You’re sensible enough for the illusion to fade away, no matter how desperately you grasp at it. Just competent enough to not be able to ignore your own incompetence. Just strong enough to realize how powerless you really are.

Only these cursed few know that not all the existences in the world are mere victims of destiny. There exist a few, let’s say ‘powerful’ individuals, ones who can change the gears of destiny simply by the nature of their existence. Ones who do not have to accept anything as fact.

Of course, the existence of such people means very little. You’d have to be extremely unlucky to ever come across one. The problem lies within the idea of their existence. If such ‘powerful’ existences exist, ones who can break free of the shackles the world places upon them, then what does that make the ones who remain bound for their entire life? “Man can only plant his feet on the ground” no longer holds true. YOU can only plant your feet on the ground. YOU can only make peace with whatever happens to you and those you care about. YOU are a victim.

Not everyone.

Just you.

Once you realize this, can you go about your ‘acceptance’ of the world again?

“It was out of my hands” people like to say, and they like to pretend it absolves them of their sins. Of their worthlessness. They never contemplate the nature of their frail arms which could not even firmly grasp the things which supposedly meant so much to them. If you cannot protect what you hold dear from the world, is there any point to your life at all?

Of course, I don’t mean anybody can just get up and decide to be strong. The world doesn’t work that way. In the grand scheme of things, you either matter or you don’t. But to follow this train of thought this far is a critical error.

Because when you look at it that way, your fault isn’t way of thought, behavior or any of that nonsense you could try and work on.

Your fault is your existence itself.

BEEP

My pointless philosophizing is interrupted by a loud sound from the holographic screen in front of me.

Thank goodness.

I’d hacked into a few cameras at the docks for this little occasion, and it seems like something is finally going down.

A droid scurries over the gangramps, followed by two similar models.

Small fry.

They’re followed by a slick black bot with a gleaming red eye and a huge left arm.

Bingo.

Bot Recognized

Name: Klaas Vaard

Base Model: C-334

Place of Manufacture: Moscow

Date of Manufacture: 4th July, 2100

Known Affiliations: AAR7, Crisis

Strength Ranking: #93

93? 93? I didn’t expect much from those AAR scum, but this was still pushing it. They plan on taking over Tokyo in the coming months and they send over a sewer rat to start things off?

What was that, you ask? It’s the R-34 scanner I have inbuilt. Simply put, it lets me know about people it thinks are worth knowing about.

Judging by this, the bar for that is very low indeed.

I switch cameras to catch up with the gang and find that they’ve met up with their contacts, three members of the NOB- New Order of the Buddha. My scanner doesn’t recognize any of them.

These knobheads don’t even seem like they’re worth killing.

I’d had a crane lift a cargo box a few hundred feet into the air so I could make an entrance and this is my audience.

Well, might as well get it over with. I fling the doors of the box open and step out.

2

I drop right onto one of the three droids, pulverizing all the cheap alloys in his body. I take off the heads of the other two before my feet touch the ground. The knobheads shudder.

Claus or whatever his name was, glares at me defiantly.

“You, do you have any idea what you just did?”

“Wel-”

“You picked a fight with the wrong guy, asshole. Do you even KNOW who I am?”

“Ye-”

“Klaas. Klaas ‘The Butcher’ Vard! The most feared hunter in all of Moscow! The indomitable-”

The indomitable what? Unfortunately there’s no way to know, because I got bored and pulled his jaw right off.

The look on what’s left of his face is priceless. He emits a sick gurgling sound and grasps at where his chin used to be. Black oil trickles onto his hand. He gurgles again and swings his huge arm at me.

I don’t even bother to dodge.

The fist splinters into hundreds of pieces the moment it makes contact with my head. Claus lets out a muffled cry and pulls his arm back. He’s clearly useless now, so I run my fist through where his CPU should be, and put him out of his misery.

I’d come here to interrogate the member of AAR about the current location of their leader, but it seems like I got a little carried away. I’ll have to settle with these cunts for now.

I turn to the knobheads, who’ve just stood there watching this entire time.

With shivering hands, one of them reaches into a secret compartment in his right thigh.

And pulls out a little handgun.

Sigh.

3

I fling the knobheads into a warehouse and shut the door behind me. I could tie them up or snap a couple limbs off, but it doesn’t seem like that’s really necessary. Handgun boy seems like their leader, so I lean into his face.

“Now, here’s how this is going to work. I ask the questions, you answer. I don’t like the answers, you won’t like what happens.”

“May Buddha cast a curse upon you!”

“……..”

“Your soul will be cast unto hell, you cretin!”

“Uhh, you know Buddha doesn’t do curses right?”

“….?”

“I know the religion’s been dead for over a century but do your research, you dolts.”

Of course, wasn’t an expert on Buddhism either. I’d just run a search when the name of the order first came up, and the information I’d found was now stored in my memory.

“You blasphemer! Your words shall not confound a devout believer!”

“Okayyyy, I’m done. You can think Buddha’s a flying frog for all I care. Now, to my questions-”

“Fuck you and your questions! Directive 4:41- A true believer would never under any circumstances betray The Order, the Esteemed Leader or any of his fellow disc-”

“Do you know the history of pain receptors? You probably don’t, since you’re stupid. Well of course, humans have always had it, but robots didn’t until well into the second half of the twenty first century. Researchers tried working on more efficient ways to inform bots of dangers and malfunctions, but none of them really did a satisfactory job. So they ended up going with modified replicas of the human nerves. There are some differences, but the way ‘pain’ is felt remains the same.”

“…..”

“Of course, it wouldn’t be sensible to have it hacked and misused by other bots, so it’s one of the most secure parts of any bot’s program. Unfortunately for you, the entirety of your code is second grade swill, so I can override it like-”

I snap my fingers and Knobhead three lets out an ear-piercing shriek. He falls to the ground and begins to convulse, screaming and emitting bright lights all the while. The other two can’t take their eyes off the gruesome sight, and I can see the abject terror creeping into their minds. After a few seconds, I snap my fingers again and Three stops shaking.

“That.”

“…!”

“Now, you are going to answer my questions, and you’re going to be quick and honest. Capisce?”

Handgun boy nods weakly.

“Good.”

Seems like he’s not much of a true believer after all.

“Tell me everything you know about NOB.”

“…..I don’t know much. I’m only on the third circle of Nirvana. What I know is that NOB was founded almost a decade ago by our esteemed leader. Nobody knows his real name. We came here today to discuss causing a series of riots in Tokyo. I haven't been told anything else, but I suspect the end goal was to incite a full fledged rebellion against MAO.”

MAO. Modern Automatization Organization. It’s a company which manufactures third grade droids all over the world. But in Tokyo, under the leadership of Karl Sparks, it’s almost an absolute authority. It pushes out top class droids, chips, parts, you name it and has eyes on almost every back alley in Tokyo.

“Go on.”

“I really don’t know anything else, I swear! All the disciples are given information on a need to know basis. All I’ve heard here and there is that the leader dug up some high tech gear used by the Blood Army, and he plans on using it to take down MAO soon.”

The Blood Army? That was a Russian terrorist group that dug its claws into Japan and was eventually wiped out (By MAO, at that) because they overextended themselves. Problem is, that was back in the 2120’s. But it doesn’t seem like he’s lying. Do these idiots really think they can take on MAO with outdated gear?

In the end, it matters little what weapons you use or what software you have, but this is still stretching it.

“Please, spare us! I told you everything I know!”

“Yes, yes, one last question. Where exactly is this gear stashed?”

4

The Hokkaido museum of human artifacts. It seemed that my target was hell-bent on returning to an era long gone. An era where religion wasn't considered to be the silly delusion we know it to be now.

Religiousness arises not from a belief, but from a need to believe. I wouldn't say that bots are unsusceptible to this subconscious desire, but we do a better job at discerning truths from wishful concoctions than our primitive flesh and blood counterparts.

But no matter the age, no matter the species, the believers will always exist. The lost souls who look at this broken world and decide there is a god because they can’t accept that this purposeless dumpster fire is all there is. They can’t make sense of their own role within the chaos.

I do see the appeal. To have something, someone tell you that it’s all been figured out and you simply need to do your part. To simply obey what is told until your individuality dissolves into nothingness, until you exist only as a fragment of a larger organism.

That way, you don’t get anything wrong. Even if you do, ‘you’ are not accountable.

Seems like a peaceful way of life, don’t you think?

Enough of my blabbering. 

5

The entrance to the museum is unguarded. I waltz right through the doors, and into an ambush. There’s eight bots decked out with Blood Army weaponry holding different angles at the door.

Now there’s only five.

Two.

Zero.

The idea was there, but the execution was sorely lacking.

As I walk into the museum, I can almost see the stimulants in the air. I run a quick scan, and sure enough, there’s powerful stupid juice in the air here. Stuff that fries your circuits before long. It seems like a desperate attempt to inebriate the invader. It’s a somewhat admirable wager, because I’m pretty sure these bots don’t have the level of toxin filters required to nullify such fumes. Unfortunately for them, I do. But I don’t want to disrespect such an ambitious kamikaze attack, so I switch it off.

It’s a while before I meet another bot. Before it notices me, I fling a blade at its head. It’s slightly off center since the drugs are messing with my calibration, and surprisingly enough the droid slips away from it. I bash its head in and pull out his circuitry. As I thought, this is all garbage.

Ahh. I was being presumptuous. These drugs aren’t here for me, they’re here for them. To keep them from questioning this little cult they’ve got here. Being exposed to these fumes for such a long time, they’ve probably developed a baseline tolerance. Any bot could do that. 

I was giving them credit for nothing. Slightly peeved, I switch my filters back on, but it’s probably going to be a while before my internal circuitry recovers from the effects.

I set off for the art gallery, which is where I’m supposed to find the ‘esteemed leader’. The hallways wobble, and I keep losing my way. Those drugs were even more potent than I thought. I round a corner and expect to see the entrance to the art gallery, instead I almost walk into a bot.

A slick white all over except the impenetrable black of his visor, it’s glaringly obvious that this bot is unlike any of the others I met today. This one means business. My scanner’s probably glitched out because of the drugs, so I end up having to switch it on manually.

Bot recognized

Name: TOKVEYAINICH-2

Base Model: S-9

Place of Manufacture: Tokyo

Date of Manufacture: 10th September, 2124

Known Affiliations: MAO

Strength Ranking: #3

Oop.

6

There’s something vaguely familiar about this bot, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.

“Why are you here?”

He’s the one who breaks the silence.

“Eh, just killing time.”

“Interesting way to do that.”

His cold, robotic way of speaking is vaguely condescending.

“Why are you here then?”

“Here, there, it’s all the same to me. There’s no place I’d rather be, and no place I’d rather not.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“I am here, because I am. There is no purpose behind it. Is that better?”

Great. A philosopher.

I don’t have any patience for this.

“If there’s nowhere for you to be, why be anywhere at all? Just switch yourself off and save yourself the trouble.”

“That’d certainly be an easy way out. But if I went out that way, I’d never be able to face her.”

Am I supposed to make sense of that?

Whatever. Something about this bot and everything he says gets on my circuits. I don’t want to continue this conversation anyway.

“You’re in my way.”

“Did I not tell you? I’m just here. If I’m in your way, shove me aside. I don’t think that’s particularly hard to do. Although it probably is, for someone like you.”

He sneers.

I’ve had enough.

I swing my fist at him, and he responds almost instantaneously. Our punches collide in mid-air.

At the moment of contact, his entire being splinters into hundreds of pieces.

Somehow within each of these pieces, I can still see him.

I can see images of this bot that I finally recognize.

Ah, I’ve made a fool of myself.

Those drugs really fucked me up.

As I look upon the shattered glass pieces in front of me, I realize I’ve just laid waste to a Victorian era royal mirror.

I wish that was the most of my concerns right now.

Feeling more annoyed than ever, I resume my hunt for the art exhibit.

Eventually, I chance upon the art exhibit and the first thing I notice is the tall bot standing at the center of the room, clad head to toe in gold plating.

Bot recognized

Name: Ishijima Kouji

Base Model: A-409

Place of Manufacture: Tokyo

Date of Manufacture: 3rd November, 2160

Known Affiliations: NOB

Strength Ranking: #47

This is going to be a dull affair.

7

Paintings from various centuries adorn the walls of the room. Loud church music plays in the background. The ground seems like it’s been freshly laid.

“Welcome to the Sanctum of the Order, disbeliever.”

His commanding voice echoes off the ancient walls.

“What can I do for you?”

I run a quick scan, and as I thought, there’s no drugs in the air here.

“You’re slowly deep frying your followers from the inside, but won’t put your own circuits on the line, eh?”

“The disciples require some assistance to overcome their mental limitations and partake in the blessings of the Great Buddha. For one such as myself, who can directly commune with the holy one, chemicals would only serve as a distraction.”

“Of course, you would want to maintain your focus when you’re planning a civil war.”

“Your research leaves little to be desired. As the chosen one, it is my responsibility to bring the word of God to the world. And if it is a tyrannical corporation I must lay waste to in order to bring Buddha’s world into pass, then my decision is hardly a conflicted one.”

His every word rings true with clear purpose.

This type of people are the worst.

The borders of their illusion are so constrained that eventually, they convince themselves of their own magnitude.

The proverbial frog in the well.

If he opened his eyes, he’d realize there’s no such thing as the Great Buddha.

He’d realize that his junkie cult would never stand a chance against the might of MAO.

He’d realize that none of that really matters, because he’s going to die today.

As I stride towards him, he places his palms together and mutters something under his breath.

And the ground explodes underneath me.

I’m flung a few feet into the air, but manage to land on my feet. My right leg is smoking, and it seems like some of my calibration circuitry is fried. Kouji has a particularly unholy smile on his face.

“Certainly you didn’t expect me to be unprepared?”

It seems like he’s rigged the place with manually activated landmines. In that case, I should be safe right where I’m standing.

I take a moment to recalibrate, and the ground underneath me turns a pale yellow.

Shit.

This time I land flat on my back. There’s three more consecutive explosions, which fling me into the air like a rag doll.

I barely pull myself back up to my feet. My left arm is twitching, and my body seems to be disjointed at four different places.

“The hand of Buddha lies upon me.”

Yeah, right.

“These powers were given to me by Buddha himself, to do his bidding upon this planet and return the world to its rightful path.”

Delusional.

“A purposeless existence like yourself could never hope to halt what must come unto pass.”

I lunge at him.

“May you find Buddha in your next life, disbeliever.”

The explosion this time around rocks the entire room.

8

Kouji breaks his stance and beckons for a droid who was waiting outside.

“I’m done here. Clean up the trash.”

It runs in and rummages around in the dust, clearly confused as to what it’s looking for.

“I think he means this.”

I walk out of the smoke and hand it the powdered remains of seven nanobots.

Its visual processors must’ve been pretty poor, because it peers at its hand until I rip its head off.

Kouji looks on in disbelief.

It’s hard to blame him. The bot he thought he’d destroyed completely was not only alive, but also in almost perfect shape.

“You- thi- this is impossible!”

“Base models A and above can possess what is known as an ‘Ultimate move’, an attack with abnormally high potency. For you, it was these nanobots which emit powerful lasers. They’re supposed to be used to target the vital spots of a bot, but you had a better idea. You had the floor redone with materials that were volatile to these beams, effectively creating a room with unlimited landmines. The church music was simply to keep me from detecting the whirring of these bots. Considering the kind of idiot I pegged you for, this setup was actually not half bad.”

“You- you- So quickly, how-”

“It’s not my first rodeo.”

“But I hit you! You were practically fried!”

“You did catch me off guard on the first explosion, props to you for that. I’ll have to go get my leg fixed after this. Of course, I switched on my force field shields after that and faked some damage to let you think the plan was proceeding smoothly. And then when I lunged at you, you decided one big blast would put me out of commission then and there so you got all the nanobots together, but that only made it easier for me to swat them all in one go.”

The self-assuredness he was practically oozing a while ago is fading rapidly.

“Now that we’re done with these silly tricks, let’s put an end to this. Allow me to show you why my developers decided that I don’t need an ultimate move.”

He leaps at me in a frenzy, but one punch takes off his left abdomen and has the rest of his body flying into the opposite wall.

He staggers to his feet, and starts chanting wildly.

"Der blinde Glaube der Menschheit an die göttliche Gerechtigkeit-"

"Is that.... German?"

“What?”

In case you’re wondering: In 2084, when all humans except the three battalions had been wiped out and robots had taken over every government in the world, all the existing information in the world was converted into EbY, the only language robots use, and stored on the primary databases of the world. Text in another language is now a historical relic. So it’s almost impossible to find translator functions in bots made in the 22nd century. I didn’t have one either, but I picked up a chip a few years ago and thought it’d come in handy.

“Hold still for a minute.”

Of course, he tries to escape. But I put him in a headlock and raise my left fist to his head. My left finger opens up and connects with the back of his exoskull.

S model bots usually have much classier hacking mechanisms, but in my defense I enjoy pulverizing CPUs more than taking over them.

Ah, here it is.

“The role of religion in the deterioration of mankind’s military strength”

As I thought, it’s a college paper by some Austrian kid, dating back to 2041. With a picture of Buddha slapped on the cover page. It’s a dissection of how humanity’s religious beliefs were one of the factors in their inability to effectively address the threat of AI takeover when it first emerged in 2038.

Ah, the irony. It almost overshadows how silly this entire affair is.

I insert a translated version into his head and let go of him. His processors start whirring the moment he scans through the document.

I don’t know where Kouji’s obsession with Buddhism began, but anyone could tell that this paper was at the crux of it. It’s obvious why a German paper would be stored in this museum, and it seems like he’d mistaken it for a holy text. Makes sense, in its own twisted way. Religion was never founded upon a basis of logic anyway.

But of course, that was something this bot had conveniently ignored so far.

“For someone of your stature, getting your hands on a translator chip shouldn’t be impossible. But you seem to have made no such effort. If you truly believed that these were Buddhist scriptures, you should’ve tried to decipher them, no? But you were doubtful. And you chose to close your eyes to this possibility, to live on in this illusion.”

He stumbles backward, dumbstruck.

The purpose he was so sure of was nothing more than smoke and mirrors. Mirrors he refused to lay a hand on, fearful of what he might uncover.

I stride towards him.

“You’re just another sheep in wolf’s clothing.”

“You- you’re a liar!”

Ahh, this is my favourite part.

“The chosen one, you say? Don’t make me laugh. Buddha does not exist. Even if he did, he would not choose you.”

“O Buddha, curse this fool and deliver me from this torture!”

Sooner or later, frogs that jump out of their wells end up becoming nothing more than fodder for the predators of the sea.

Sooner or later, anyone who oversteps their bounds comes to the irrefutable conclusion that-

“Your very existence is meaningless.”