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[PP-11] The Red Dragon Café [Kyo]


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As the radiant sun descended beneath the virtual horizon, its parting beams painted the cityscape of Taft in a breathtaking palette of amber and indigo. The resonant tolling of the Cathedral bell echoed through the towering structures and labyrinthine streets, heralding the onset of a tranquil haven amid the digital tumult—a charming café nestled comfortably between unassuming walls of red brick. A crimson cloth canopy, suspended on an intricately designed metal frame, extended gracefully over the outdoor seating, spilling onto the narrow street below. This architectural embrace created a serene enclave, inviting patrons to immerse themselves in the ethereal glow of virtual sunlight. Each wrought-iron table, adorned with four plush, cushioned chairs, issued an irresistible invitation for visitors to linger, encouraging them to savor their coffee amidst the enchanting surroundings. The tables themselves were adorned with petite vases, their blossoms overflowing with vibrant hues, introducing captivating splashes of color to the tableau. At this time of day, the majority of these charming tables found themselves already claimed by patrons, a testament to the cafe's allure and popularity.

Upon crossing the threshold, an assault on the senses unfolded—a harmonious blend of the familiar embrace of freshly brewed coffee and the sweet allure of pastries. The air buzzed with a melodic hum of friendly chatter, punctuated by the delicate clinking of porcelain against saucers. In the background, a soft ambient melody played, weaving a soothing symphony that danced with the occasional burst of laughter. The interior, a refuge from the hustle outside, gradually transformed from the initial bustling activity to a more subdued ambiance within an hour of the Cathedral bell's resonant toll.

Guiding the rhythm of this enchanted space was a diminutive red dragon, Otoko, navigating the chaos with remarkable agility. Even the most casual observer would swiftly discern his role as the sole waiter—interpreting orders through gestures and menu-pointing, then swiftly darting to the kitchen only to reemerge moments later with a metal tray bearing the coveted delights. Despite his petite stature and solitary responsibility, Otoko seamlessly moved through the crowd, a testament to his efficiency and charm. However, he wasn't toiling in solitude; a voice echoed from behind the kitchen flaps, adding a harmonious layer to the orchestrated dance of the café ambiance.

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"Otoko, 86 on the matcha swiss rolls!" Takao's voice echoed through the bustling café, commanding the attention of the wingless red dragon familiar. Otoko, in response, offered a wordless affirmation with a clawed thumbs up before swiftly darting back onto the lively floor. Behind the billowing curtains that partitioned the kitchen from the dining area, Takao found himself immersed in a mosaic of system menus, each flickering option a gateway to the culinary orchestra he conducted. Just beyond this digital tableau lay a sizzling grill, where the more substantial dishes sizzled and wafted enticing aromas into the air. Patiently, Takao awaited the timer prompts, knowing that, in this fantastical realm, the virtual recipes practically cooked themselves. It was a comforting thought, especially considering the relentless pace of the café, that Takao wasn't feeling the least bit overwhelmed. So preoccupied in his work was he that the only thoughts he had were on the next order yet to come through the doors. Perhaps, despite the ease of the virtual world, the green-haired chef had discovered an unexpected talent. But even so, in the real world, how could one person do all of this?

As Otoko reappeared in a rush, Takao handed over a platter ready for service, a well-rehearsed exchange between chef and dragon. The familiar, with the platter now cradled in his claws, swiftly departed once again, a synchronized duo navigating the intricate dance of a virtual café. Well, maybe he wasn't just one person, Takao mused with a wry smile.

A glance at the clock on the wall revealed that closing time was imminent. Simultaneously, Otoko re-entered the kitchen, poised to retrieve the next platter. However, Takao preempted the dragon's hurried departure with a declaration that hung in the air.

"Last order, bud. We'll close up soon and take a break before we meet up with the group." The words marked a temporary reprieve from the virtual hustle, a brief interlude before the impending rendezvous with comrades. Takao felt guilty making them wait this long, he knew how eager they were to hunt for dungeons. Just as he was beginning to clean up and wipe off his hands, Takao noticed an unclaimed dessert sitting on the table behind him. His head tilted, who was that for again? There were no tickets left, he must have made an extra. Just as he'd come to realization, the sound of the front door's bell rang, signaling that somebody had entered.

"Huh. Good timing." Takao said to himself as he lifted the dessert and made his way out of the kitchen. He stopped at the table with the newcomer and greeted them with a smile.

"Welcome to the Red Dragon Café!" He chirped gleefully. "I happened to make an extra dessert. Its all yours if you'd like, on the house! A free sample while you check out the menu."

Edited by Takao
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What the green-haired virtual chef would find waiting, when he reached the table she'd sat at, was a girl with green hair and green eyes not far off in shade from his, looking up at him and blinking in surprise. She had been slouching in her chair as if exhausted, but was straight-backed as a flagpole now. It was obvious that she hadn't expected anyone to approach her just then.

"Eh?!" she blurted. Her eyes darted to the space above Takao's head but that just brought a grimace to her face: she was checking whether he was a player or an NPC, but cursors didn't show indoors. Eventually she sighed, deciding he was probably a player; NPC waiters tended to be a bit more boring-looking than this.

"Well, I won't say no t' free food, but... I didn't even know this place was player-run. I was just takin' a break before headin' back. I'm honestly afraid t' check out the menu, though. Somehow I get the feelin' player-made food is outside o' my price range at this point..."

Now wasn't that the understatement of the month. Over the past two years, Kyo had mostly just lived at the cheapest inn she could find, and she'd run through all of the starting money that her... that the group she'd logged in with had dropped when they'd lost in their launch-day dueling tournament. She'd managed to hold onto barely enough Col to make a two-years-late start at leveling up, but that was chump change compared to what active players would be making in their day-to-day grind... so it was chump change compared to what this guy probably expected to make when a player stopped by his place.

She was only even on this floor because she'd wanted to get a look at all of the floors that the players ahead of her had unlocked so far, and she'd only come in here because, virtual avatar or not, she'd done a lot of walking around today. She was exhausted, damnit, and it was just such a cozy-looking little restaurant.

Had she known the café was player-run, she'd never have stopped in here. NPC waiters would generally just leave you be if you told them you didn't want to order anything, but in a player-run establishment, loitering was... well, it was loitering.

After a few moments of considering this, Kyo cast a squint-eyed look in the direction of the kitchen, and said, "...Was that a li'l dragon I saw slip inta the back when I came in, or has the NerveGear microwaved my brain already?"

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CHARACTER STATS:

Kyo | Level 1
HP: 20/20
EN: 20/20
DMG: 1
MIT: 0
EVA: 1
ACC: 0 [Keen]
LD: 0

Equipped Weapon:
Leather Whip | [Whip, Uncommon] [Keen I]

Equipped Armor:
Boarskin Jacket | [Cloth Armor, Uncommon] [Evasion I]

Battle-Ready Inventory:
Starter Healing Potion (x5) | [Heals 50 HP]

Skills:
«Whip» Weapon Skill | Rank 1

Edited by Kyo
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A grin adorned Takao's face as he carefully placed the delectable dessert on the porcelain saucer in front of Kyo. His eyes followed her gaze, oblivious to the subtle rotation of a green crystal just out of sight. Her remarks about the affordability of the food immediately piqued his curiosity, and a fleeting concern crossed his mind, entertaining the idea that perhaps he had priced his offerings too steeply. However, as he observed her fatigued appearance and the simplicity of her attire—reminiscent of the basic armors found on the lowest floors—a realization dawned on him.

"Ah! You're fresh out of the Town of Beginnings, aren't you?" His arms folded, one remaining loosely gestured as he pointed vaguely. "Not many player shops down there, right?"

The scene resonated with immediate familiarity; Takao had once been in her position. His own fears had kept him trapped in the Town of Beginnings for quite some time after the game of death began, finding solace in exploring its myriad expand of hidden corners. Eventually he grew restless and sought out more of what Aincrad had to offer, maybe she was doing the same?

"Don't worry too much about the prices. The simpler meals without buffs are actually really affordable." He casually tossed the towel he had been toying with over his shoulder and leaned in, directing her attention to two options on the menu: a four-cheese grilled cheese and a refreshing garden salad, both priced for a paltry sum of col. "The grilled cheese is my personal favorite, and the garden salad is perfect if you're in the mood for something lighter."

As the conversation flowed, a surge of pride washed over Takao at the mention of his industrious familiar. He beamed at the question and laughed at her apparent disbelief.

"Yup! That's Otoko. Otoko, c'mere a sec!" He called for the diminutive red dragon, just barely larger than a house cat, who bounded out of the kitchen doorway. On all fours, Otoko approached Takao's side, then leaped onto his shoulder. Perched on his trapezius, Kyo enjoyed an unobstructed view of Otoko. The small dragon boasted smooth red scales complemented by a pale underbelly. His large, round orange eyes held a certain expressiveness, conveying a sense of curiosity and intelligence. Notably, five horns adorned his head, with two of them forming what appeared to be a pair of remarkably expressive ears. Jagged teeth protruded from his maw, which was curved into a slight perpetual grin. "He's my familiar, practically runs this place when I'm away. Sometimes, it feels like he's the one actually in charge. The place is named after him."

"So, what brings you here? This floor isn't anything special, I don't think."

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Kyo blinked and stared down at the menu when Takao indicated the cheaper items and explained them.

Wait, food has buffs in SAO...?

After a moment's thought, she realized she should have expected as much. It was, after all, the only thing that normally made videogame food worth a damn in most of the many, many RPGs that included it, from single-player games to MMORPGs. The only exceptions were games that had survival mechanics, but those tended to be kind of niche. Since they felt hunger pains here if they starved themselves—and since SAO's design ethos was obviously and decidedly very old-school in many ways—Kyo had simply assumed the food was there for survival value.

Well, as far as that went... it looked like Sword Art Online was able to have its cake and eat it, too.

Pun absolutely intended.

"Yeah, I'm... gettin' a feel for the different floors before I start levelin'. I wanna make it t' the frontlines, and it'll help if I have a good idea of what t' expect," Kyo admitted, scratching her chin as she eyed the menu. Then one corner of her lips quirked up. "For the record, tho', I'm more of a spicy-chicken kinda girl, so I'll pass on the garden salad. Not that it really matters what we eat in here so long as we eat somethin' t' shut our stomachs up... our actual bodies are wastin' away on a drip-feed, so we're losin' BMI by the hour even if we pig the hell out, aren't we."

Kyo snorted as if she found this funny. But her eyes were locked on the little red dragon as it perched itself on Takao's shoulder, and her eyes lit up with curiosity as Takeo explained its role in the restaurant.

"That's some pretty frickin' impressive AI routine it's got goin' on, if what you're sayin' is true..." Kyo said, leaning forward and squinting at the dragon. "NPCs are kinda rock-stupid, or at least... the ones in the Town o' Beginnings are. I'm surprised anythin' in this game can behave in such a complex way. I wonder if it's related the way mobs are programmed t' kinda learn a player's tactics as ya fight 'em..."

She leaned back, then, grinning sheepishly.

"Well, maybe that's all stuff other players already know the answers to. I haven't really, uh... haven't really been keepin' in touch with what's been goin' on, up t' now. So there's a lot I'm behind on."

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Inquisitively, Takao's head tilted as he absorbed her response. Their reasons for venturing beyond the safety of the first floor were akin, yet subtly different. Where his motivation stemmed from a potent mix of wanderlust and boredom, hers was propelled by an aspiration for the front lines. While he refrained from vocalizing his own reflections, recognizing that certain experiences needed to be lived to be fully understood, he remained attentive to her words. His focus shifted to her concluding remarks, and a visible deflation of spirits accompanied a sigh.

"Don't remind me," He whined. "I was just starting to put on weight before all this... Now I'll be a skeleton forever when this is over." Despite the lingering smile, his countenance betrayed a hint of somber resignation rather than unbridled joy. Takao made a conscious effort to avoid dwelling on the real-life implications of their virtual entrapment, reserving those thoughts for the rare occasions when stark reminders surfaced.

"Anyhow, you'll be chums with Otoko in no time." His green eyes flickered towards the familiar, whose attention was instantly piqued at the mere mention of something spicy. His hand rose and scratched the top of his head. "He's always trying to sneak spices into the sweets. Keeps things interesting, that's for sure."

Her observations about Otoko, referring to the AI as his familiar, caught Takao by surprise. As his gaze lingered on the small red dragon, a visual representation of intricate numbers and code, he found it challenging to perceive Otoko as a mere programmed entity. The time spent with his digital companion had blurred the lines between artificial intelligence and genuine personality in Takao's eyes-- was that unhealthy? While not an entirely novel thought, an old contemplation resurfaced, one he typically didn't delve into too deeply.

"Its kind of a spectrum. Some quests might have you questioning whether the NPCs aren't actually alive, given the depth of their characters and storylines. Other times, you'll catch onto the patterns right away." he explained, grateful for the diversion from the earlier introspection.

A distinct blip seized his attention, the unmistakable signal of an incoming private message. His eyes shifted within his Heads-Up Display, acknowledging the notification. The message hailed from his group, the companions he intended to embark on a hunt with shortly, notifying him that they had forged ahead without him. Reflecting on his own solo excursions, Takao couldn't bring himself to blame them; this was merely a taste of his own medicine.

"Ah, man. Looks like we got left behind, buddy. No dungeons tonight," Takao sighed, his tone carrying a tinge of resignation. However, there was an underlying nonchalance, suggesting that the prospect of solo exploration still held appeal. After all, he could always venture out alone later if the inclination struck him. Takao's focus shifted back to Kyo.

"Looks like my evening just opened up. How about some spicy chicken then, my treat? Even if it's all a game, you can't beat a good meal." he proposed with a smile.

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Takao's lament about how he had only just started putting on weight brought a humorless grin to Kyo's face.

"I'm not exactly happy about it either," she said. She pushed her chair back, turning toward Takao so he could see her front fully... her open jacket, midriff-baring top, and the rather impressive abs they bared. "I put a lotta work inta this, ya know, and I'm gonna hafta do it all over again, on top o' rehab. Ha! Y'know, maybe we can be gym buddies when this is all over, cheer each other on."

Kyo certainly seemed not to have the same reservations about their situation as Takao did, given her generally easy demeanor as she said this. But she must have picked up on Takao's need to change the subject, because she shifted her attention to Otoko. "So there's a range o' different AI levels," Kyo said thoughtfully. "I wonder how deep it goes... Christ..."

This last came out as a mutter, Kyo's face darkening.

"Why'd you invent somethin' this amazin' and then make sure everyone only thinks o' the mass-murder part?"

She seemed to be thinking out loud, and there was a bitter edge to the words. But she snapped back to the moment with a shake of her head. She looked at Takao, and raised her eyebrows at his words to the dragon. When he said his evening had opened up, she straightened in her chair.

"You sure? Alright then, I sure won't say no. Kayaba didn't invent the food system, anyway, so that's one o' the things I got no problem with."

Readjusting her chair, Kyo slid closer to the table, and brought the dessert that Takao had placed in front of her closer so as to examine it.

"What d'ya mean when ya say your evenin' opened up?" she asked idly. "Didja have plans t' party up with friends and go grindin'?"

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Takao's expression morphed into a mix of surprise and amusement as Kyo's response unveiled an unexpected twist. Her humorless grin in response to his weight lament prompted a quizzical raise of his eyebrows. However, as she pushed her chair back and turned to face him, revealing her open jacket, midriff-baring top, and the remarkably defined abs beneath, Takao's surprise transformed into starry-eyed wonder.

"I'm not exactly happy about it either," she remarked, her tone carrying a blend of wry humor and determination. She showcased the results of her hard work, and the abs on display spoke volumes about her dedication.

"Holy moly, you can grate cheese on those things! Are you like, a professional athlete or something?" he exclaimed, a hint of disbelief coloring his tone as he marveled at Kyo's impressive physique. The depressive thoughts that had lingered just moments ago were now completely forgotten, replaced by a sudden surge of determination. With a spirited gesture, he slapped his right hand—balled into a fist—into the waiting palm of his left.

"Hell yeah, gym buddies!" Takao declared enthusiastically, his eyes gleamed with a mix of excitement and determination. "I'm all in! I'm gonna learn how to do those crazy one legged dragon squats! Hey, hold that thought!"

Takao's vivacious and scatter-brained characteristics took center stage as he excused himself from the table, disappearing into the bustling domain of the kitchen. While he personally relished the tactile experience of cooking, he couldn't deny the efficiency of the system, swiftly transforming raw ingredients and his culinary expertise into complete meals. In a matter of mere minutes, he reemerged from the kitchen, bearing a plate and a bowl, a testament to the system's remarkable speed and convenience.

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The spicy chicken, meticulously arranged on the plate, bore the artistic touch of Takao's culinary finesse. A sprinkle of parsley adorned the dish, creating a visually pleasing contrast with the reddish-orange hue of the spicy rub and sauce, each dot of green accentuating the overall presentation. While the system played its part in the cooking process, it was Takao's discerning will that molded the aesthetic appeal of the meal. Placing the plate before Kyo, he mirrored the action with a bowl, from which tendrils of steam gracefully billowed. The rich broth contained a harmonious medley of noodles, greens, and delicate strips of beef, an unmistakable nod to a Japanese interpretation of the Vietnamese classic, Pho.

"There you go, one plate of spicy chicken. Bon appétit!" Takao declared with a warm smile as he settled into the seat opposite Kyo. He indulged in a few mouthfuls before turning his attention to her lingering question, a remnant from their earlier conversation.

"I was gonna dungeon hunt with some friends, but they went on without me. Its okay though, I do the same to them sometimes."  he admitted with a chuckle, a hint of nervousness coloring his tone. Shifting the focus, he observed Kyo's evident interest in the intricacies of the game.

"You seem pretty interested in the way the game works, asking about the NPCs and all that. Any plans on how you'll start leveling up?" he inquired, genuinely curious about her approach to navigating the virtual world of Aincrad. "Oh-- and I'm Takao, by the way!"

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Kyo allowed herself a moment of pride at Takao's reaction to her physique—she had worked hard for it, after all, and Sword Art Online had managed to recreate her real-life body pretty accurately. Takao's enthusiastic acceptance of her half-joking idea that they could be gym buddies on the other side turned that hidden pride into a goofy grin. Who knew if the two of them would remember this conversation by the time they escaped, given the glacial pace of clearing? But she made a note to at least try. Allowing herself the fantasy of having a friend along for the rehabilitation ride let her pretend she had a goal beyond just her personal revenge, for a few moments.

When Takao disappeared into the kitchen, Kyo looked down at the dessert on the table. Food worked in a bit of an interesting way in SAO. For all of its realism in looks and eating experience, for example, it didn't warm up or cool down the way food left out in the open did IRL. Food would gradually tick down its durability and "expire," especially if left outside of the inventory, but that process seemed to drastically slow down inside a player residence or a restaurant. The bizarre mixture of reality and player-convenience-driven unreality boggled Kyo's food-related common sense. For a moment she thought to herself that she should scarf the dessert down or stash it in her inventory to preserve it. Then she remembered that here in Takao's restaurant, she would have around an hour and a half before it mattered. There were no motes of dust or small insects in the air to potentially ruin a dessert left out like this, either. And it could be pushed further; on other floors, Kyo had poked her head into different restaurants and found that there were even things like cake display-cases, which would extend the durability of dishes made for display for as long as three days before they got to a point where they had to be either eaten or lost.

Thinking about this soured Kyo's mood again, because it reminded her of how much work had gone into SAO, how much kriffing potential the whole thing had... and how Akihiko Kayaba had ruined all of that.

Takao finally returning with the meal he'd promised was a welcome distraction.

"Oh, hey—that looks good," she said, half-standing in her seat to get a better look. When she had said "spicy chicken," her uncultured culinary mind had gone to the crispy fried-chicken variety. Takao had gone above and beyond, crafting the kind of dish she'd have expected at the fancy restaurants her mother and father favored. And whatever baggage Kyo had regarding her parents, one of the things she'd never dispute is that the pair of them knew good food.

She could feel virtual saliva building just at the sight and smell, and was suddenly very glad that she'd stumbled into this particular player-run dining establishment.

More than that; Kyo had seen some low-level cooks at work, having shared her moping-inn with several of them at different times during the past two years, and knew a thing or two about how SAO handled the Cooking skill. Perhaps as a result of the flexibility inherent in the Taste Recreation Engine that Argus had licensed from another company for use in this game, players were able to exercise some impressive individual expression with the presentation of a meal. Takao's looked like something a food-stylist would have fluffed up for an advertisement. Belatedly Kyo realized that the lighting and ambiance in his restaurant was pretty much spot-on for that, too, though the same could be said for much of Taft.

She looked up, blinking in surprise.

"D'ya know," she said thoughtfully, sitting back down. "I think you just might've earned yourself a customer with this, once I've got the Col t' indulge a little. Thankya very much!"

Kyo dug in with gusto. If her outfit, hairstyle, and mannerisms gave her a tomboyish air, it was nothing to the way she ate, which was the enthusiastic sort of ravenous mostly only seen of Shonen protagonists in anime; like an incredibly happy animal ripping and tearing until the meal's done. But she was clearly paying attention to Takao when he spoke, her eyes turning back up from the meal to observe him, slowing her eating pace just a bit to listen.

When he introduced himself, she stopped mid-chew, then swallowed and lowered the piece of chicken she'd been working on.

"Well, damn, I didn't even realize I hadn't introduced myself yet!" she chuckled. "Sorry 'bout that, polite society's my dump-stat. Goodta meetcha, Takao. I'm Kyo."

She took another bite, chewing thoughtfully this time as she considered how to answer his question. After a bit, she swallowed.

"Well, I'm still makin' plans... it's why I'm tourin' the main towns like this," she said at last. "As for my interest in how the game works, well, that's not all just for gettin' through it. I have an academic interest in Full-Dive tech, just in general. Actually before all this went down, I was gearin' up t' write a big ol' ambitious article about it. I'm a journalism student, see, and this was gonna be my first attempt at makin' an impact with a story... 'How Full-Dive VR Will Change The World,' or, somethin' like that, I dunno. I had a better title in mind, but it's been a hot minute. I kinda... forgot it." 

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Takao radiated an aura of comfort and camaraderie, thoroughly enjoying the simple pleasure of engaging in conversation, a welcome change from the solace of the kitchen. The delicate clinking of chopsticks against porcelain served as a rhythmic accompaniment, a soothing backdrop to the lively exchange with Kyo. As he huddled over the bowl of noodles, his chopsticks created a constant stream, each slurp a testament to his evident enthusiasm for the meal. Short breaks punctuated this gastronomic journey, a strategically placed strip of grilled beef acting as a palate cleanser amid the indulgent feast.

The culinary experience presented a pleasant departure for Takao, a respite from the sweetness that typified his routine of managing a café throughout the day. Though he refrained from directly partaking in the desserts himself, the mere proximity to the array of sweets occasionally left him feeling sugar-sick. These nuanced pleasures became Aincrad's subtle gifts—insignificant yet profound moments that allowed him to unwind after a demanding day's work, surrounded by good company and an great meal. In these instances, the looming uncertainty of escaping the death game faded momentarily, and these experiences became essential anchors, preserving his sanity and grounding him in the present, even if that realization eluded him in the moment.

Takao's focus oscillated seamlessly between activities. When engrossed in his food, his attention fixated on the intricate dance of flavors and textures unfolding within the bowl. However, a perceptible shift occurred when Kyo's comment piqued his interest, prompting his gaze to wander beyond the confines of the meal. As Kyo expressed her appreciation for the food, Takao's eyes sparkled and a radiant smile illuminated his face with a sense of accomplishment. Crafting dishes that not only satisfied hunger but also stirred genuine delight in his customers filled him with a quiet pride.

"Thanks, glad you like it! Meals are way better with company. Stop by anytime, really!" he warmly invited, effortlessly plucking a strip of beef from the bowl with his chopsticks. He tossed it into the air, where Otoko, ever vigilant, leapt up to catch the treat with evident delight. He sat near the edge of the table and tore into the beef strip. Compared to Kyo's voracious appetite, Takao exhibited a degree of restraint, albeit by a slim margin. He navigated through his meal with an almost frenetic pace, as if he had somewhere to be urgently, despite lacking any external obligations.

With a hushed slurp of noodles, Takao maintained a quiet focus on Kyo as she elaborated on her fascination with the game. His eyebrows elevated, and he leaned in with a discernible expression of interest. A journalist? Well, that was an unexpected revelation, and suddenly, the fragments of her earlier muttered comments, which he had just barely caught, began to coalesce into a more coherent picture. This chance encounter had just elevated itself by a considerable degree and now his attention was fully enraptured.

With a genuine curiosity in his voice, Takao responded, "That's way cool, Kyo! Full-Dive is a game-changer. Imagine what games will be like, maybe five years from now! I mean... if games can even get any better. I wonder if the military is using this kind of tech-- or maybe they already have been for a while, they usually get their hands on stuff first, don't they?"

He snickered appreciatively at Kyo's unique approach to reporting, acknowledging the unintentional commitment within the context of their shared predicament. "Talk about boots-on-the-ground reporting. No shot there's anybody else stuck in here that's a reporter, right? You'll have one hell of a first-hand account for your story when this is all over. Are you still gonna write it?"

Acknowledging the potential skepticism that might surround his optimism, Takao recognized the gravity of their situation. Far from being naive, he had navigated the perils and losses within the game with a grim familiarity, his experiences accumulating to the point where he was running out of fingers to count them on. Yet, in the face of adversity, having something to anticipate kept him moving forward in measured increments. A potential gym partner and the prospect of an intriguing article, detailing the death game from the unique perspective of an embedded player, stood as his two newest sources of motivation.

Within mere minutes of commencing his meal, Takao adeptly maneuvered the chopsticks, effortlessly lifting the bowl to savor its entire contents. Not a solitary drop remained, a testament to his efficient consumption. Setting the chopsticks delicately on the rim of the bowl, he gently placed both utensil and vessel down, concluding the culinary experience with a contented exhale.

"Oh, and I can help you out if you want some pointers on getting started, if you'd like. I got a late start like you did after all, so I can empathize!" The offer, initially intended as a proactive gesture, had been momentarily shelved in light of the captivating revelation that Kyo was in the throes of reporter training. The prospect of extending a helping hand to a fellow player who, like him, had embarked on their Aincrad journey with a delayed commencement, rekindled his eagerness to assist.

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Kyo's eating pace slowed as Takeo spoke up about how amazing games could be with Full-Dive. It was about the response she'd expected, though he did at least show a bit of outside-the-box thinking with his comment about the military. When he offered to help her with tips and pointers, she gave him a grateful smile, but didn't directly answer. Her attention had visibly and obviously been caught by something else Takao had said, and it was taking up all of her mental bandwidth just at the moment.

After swallowing her latest bite of chicken, Kyo set down her chopsticks.

"Argus and Akihiko Kayaba invented Full-Dive tech 'emselves, so this is a case where the militaries o' the world are a bit behind, actually," she said. "I wouldn't be surprised if they were t' investigate the potential for VR as a trainin' tool... probably the first halfway-decent Full-Dive shooter game's gonna be their port o' call for the preliminary trials, then they'll contract some developer t' make 'em a more in-depth trainin' sim..."

She paused.

"Assumin' someone steps up and tries t' keep Full-Dive alive in the market..." Kyo added quietly, before sighing. "Sometimes I think this whole mess'll probably put people off from VR for a long while, but it's impossible t' tell, from in here. But, y'know. I wasn't actually thinkin' so far ahead as t' think of writin' a tell-all book about SAO, if I get outta here. That's an idea. If I can figure out a way t' express the truth o' what it's like for us all in here... all o' the truth, not just the scary shit... yeah. That's an idea."

Kyo picked up her chopsticks again, looking earnestly at Takao.

"It's not just games that'll change, by the way," she said, her eyes lighting up with... something. "Full-Dive tech has so many potential uses. Didja know the Taste Recreation Engine we're enjoyin' right now was originally developed as a practical tool for people who're fasting or on strict diets or have other reasons for havin' t' go a long while without eatin' much food? Some environmental company or other developed it, I forget the specifics, but it's true."

Kyo pointed her chopsticks at Takao's meal, grinning.

"Since you finished that whole thing just now... in a world where SAO wasn't a deathtrap, if you logged out right now, your appetite would be gonzo. No joke. Actually when I heard Argus licensed that engine for this game, I was worried it'd lead to, like, a new wave of eatin' disorders. But if used responsibly, it could be a fantastic weight-loss aid. And that's just with the NerveGear as it exists now... the tech could be adapted t' all sortsa practical and medical uses, I'm thinkin'."

She snapped up one of the few remaining pieces of chicken on her plate, and popped it into her mouth, humming in contentment.

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Takao sat with his hands resting gently in his lap, and his undivided attention fixated on Kyo. Each syllable that flowed from her lips seemed to act as a catalyst, stirring the gears of his mind into motion. Until this moment, he had been content perceiving Sword Art Online as a cutting-edge video game, pushing the boundaries of technological prowess. The broader implications of its application beyond mere gaming had never truly crossed his mind, with fleeting thoughts about military use lingering on the outskirts of his consciousness. Now, however, those rusty gears began to churn with newfound vigor.

"Training sim..." he echoed, his gaze wandering into the realms of contemplation before snapping back to meet Kyo's eyes. "We're definitely gonna retain muscle memory since this is all in our heads, right? I bet professional athletes could use this to train even if they're injured. Maybe there's even a world where contact sports are played through this technology to completely eliminate injuries." he mused, his hand gravitating thoughtfully to his chin, lost in the hypothetical landscape of revolutionary advancements spurred by the game's now two-year-old technology.

"On top of that, the Sword Art system totally moves your body without any effort on our part, but I remember all the moves even without using them myself. It's like those people that listen to textbooks while they sleep, but its real!" His gaze descended to his own hands, fingers flexing in rhythm with recollections of the intricate choreography his virtual avatar effortlessly executed. Despite his real-world clumsiness, the intricate sequences of maneuvers seemed imprinted on his mind, like a virtual muscle memory ready to be transposed onto his physical form.

"I wonder if you could use a virtual avatar as a surrogate to control robots in the real world... it blocks your physical movements; why not transfer those signals?" His words, now spoken with a hushed intensity, reflected the musings of a mind wandering into uncharted territories of imagination.

Kyo redirected his attention by gesturing with chopsticks toward the empty bowl, prompting Takao to peer into its void, where trace remnants of his finished meal lingered.

"Gonezo? Completely?" He repeated, his head tilting with a hint of curiosity.

"Woah. That's like, totally dangerous. My best friend--" A momentary pause punctuated his words, having spoken faster than his head could think. "Well, he used to play games for so long he'd forget to eat normally. They'll have to slap on warnings for sure, like those old games that would pop up and be like... You've been playing for too long, take a break! Not that I ever listened to those, anyways."

Takao leaned back in his chair, a palpable sense of overwhelm settling over him, the deluge of thoughts and theories flooding his consciousness.

"Man, what a waste. Seriously! I mean, this game is cool and all, but now that I've thought about it, isn't this like... the most underwhelming way to use this tech?" His arms folded, and his cheeks puffed out in contemplation.

"I still have this idea that you don't actually die when you... die." His squinted eyes conveyed a sentiment that struggled to find its way into words. "I dunno... Maybe this is all just a big social experiment or something. Like, what happens when you horribly traumatize a generation of gamers... or maybe we're the military experiment!" The squint shifted suddenly to a mixture of shock and fear.

"Aw man..! What if we're guinea pigs for the military!" His hands dragged down his cheeks. "I don't wanna be the new-gen MKULtra..."

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Kyo's lips quirked upward as Takao took the idea of a training sim to a few logical conclusions, then chuckled a bit at the partially-ridiculous—but not-entirely-unreasonable—place he'd taken the logic. She was kind of impressed that he'd considered the effect that could be had on muscle memory, particularly with the Sword Arts. There was a conversation to be had about those, but since they couldn't log out and see how well their movements translated to reality, she decided to hold her peace on those speculations.

And there were weapons for which Sword Art movements would be utterly useless. A lot of the Sword Arts relied on utterly impractical combinations, and then there were things like her Whip skills, which were video-gamey through and through. Real-life whips had to obey real-life laws of physics that SAO's whips just didn't need to bother with.

When Takao's thoughts took him down an utterly unrelated path, still stuck on the military-experiments idea like it was a prickly bur caught on his pants after a fall, she threw her head back and laughed.

"Hahaha! Slow down with the tin-foil hat stuff!" Kyo chuckled. By this point in his ramblings she had finished her meal, and was leaning back in her seat contentedly. "...Although theoretically it might be possible t' use NerveGear tech t' mess with our thoughts and shit, now that I think of it. But I don't think Akihiko Kayaba would be involved in somethin' like that. Doesn't fit his profile. But you're wrong, y'know, sayin' that games are the most underwhelmin' way t' use this tech. I mean, a lotta people out in the real world would agree, but I don't."

Kyo looked around the restaurant, swept out her hand, and said: "Human beings are stuck workin' for their livin' for pretty much all o' their time on this Earth. But with tech like this, we have a way t' escape that for a while. Anyone could come home from a gruelin' day at the office, and boot up their NerveGear to enjoy their own personal five-star restaurant dinin' experience, they could bring their family along, they could go on a short vacation with 'em... and yeah, they can go on adventures in a fantasy world, like we are. That's no small thing by itself."

Kyo lowered her hand, paused for a moment, and then added:

"But the miracles we could work with the underlyin' tech kinda put that t' shame, yeah," she added thoughtfully. "NerveGear tech can intercept nerve signals and send info directly t' the brain. So, say someone was born blind or deaf... couldn't we use this tech t' build fake eyes and ears for 'em? Replace their nonfunctional sensory organs with ones that work? And your mention o' robot bodies is also a thing. Cut out the virtual avatar completely; this tech could be used t' control fully-functional robotic limbs. Prosthetics and externally-operated tools for use in work, both. With NerveGear, the VR stuff and the interception o' nerve signals are a package deal, but they can be separated and used on their own. In theory."

The green-haired girl grinned humorlessly.

"Even our own situation can be twisted inta somethin' useful," she added, "somethin' beyond wacky military experiments, I mean. We're a buncha coma patients in hospitals, completely unaware o' the state of our real bodies. Suppose y'took that concept and applied it t' actual patients who have t' live with long-term weakness and pain? Maybe even t' patients who are in actual comas? Now, I'm not sure o' the biology there, but it seems t' me like that's an avenue worth explorin'."

The grin faded, and Kyo's expression turned serious, eyes darkening.

"So o' course, that absolute bell-end had t' go and trap ten thousand people in a game o' death, causin' a crisis that'll probably put society off from Full-Dive tech for a couple decades..." she said through her teeth. "Motherhumpin' shit-for-brains idiot that he is..."

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Takao's mind raced, grappling with the unsettling notion that his plight, the struggles within the death game, could potentially be exploited for someone else's gain—perhaps even manipulated for sinister purposes. Paranoia gripped him, and he ventured into wild thoughts, contemplating whether the NerveGear had the ability to delve into his mind. The fear lingered: could merely thinking these ideas lead to his erasure from existence? If the technology could read minds, wiping the collective memory of his existence seemed an effortless task. His body slumped in the chair, head rolling back, and a low, throaty groan escaped him.

"Just 'cause he wouldn't doesn't mean the military couldn't just swoop in and take over," he sighed, the weight of the possibility settling heavily on his shoulders. "But... no shot that actually happened, right..? Nah, no way, there's gotta be so much publicity around this. My mom would be so pissed if they were using my brain for nefarious purposes."

In silence, Takao sat and listened to Kyo. His arms folded and he let her words guide his thoughts, considering a few possibilities that hadn't made it through the jumbled thoughts buzzing in his head like TV static. Even with those ideas, Takao couldn't shake the feeling that its potential was wholly wasted here. No matter how beautiful and impressive Aincrad was, the potential to help people overshadowed it.

In contemplative silence, Takao absorbed Kyo's words, his arms folding as her thoughts guided his own. A few possibilities emerged from the chaotic buzz in his mind, yet the pervasive feeling of wasted potential clung to him. For all the beauty and impressiveness of Aincrad, the missed opportunities to aid people overshadowed its grandeur.

"That's true..." he responded, lifting his head slightly. "It'd be pretty great if you were old and frail. Letting you do all the things you wish you could... That's not even mentioning Cardinal, which seems to be creating things by itself to constantly generate new game content... Agh, no matter how I look at it, this really is the worst use!" Takao huffed, a tangible frustration evident in his voice. "What a dumbass!"

Suddenly, Takao's head snapped up, and he shifted in his seat. The chopsticks, still held in his hands and subtly fiddled with throughout, were now pointed directly at Kyo. Otoko startled at the sudden movement; he had finished his meal and laid down on the table, but now he was up and alert on all fours.

"I'll tell you what, nothing pisses me off more than wasted potential, and this game reeks of it! I hope that guy can hear all this, 'cause now I wanna give him a piece of my mind." Takao's arms folded, and his shoulders squared with determination. However, that determination swiftly waned as another possibility crossed his mind. His eyes turned skyward, glancing back and forth with a nervous laugh.

"Uh... unless he can instantly kill me—in which case, I take it back and this game is great!"

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Takao's mounting anxiety about the military brought a wan grin to Kyo's face. "...I wouldn't worry too much about government overreach in this case," Kyo said. "Too much publicity's involved, yeah, and also: the government'd probably've forced a recall on the NerveGear entirely. They'd also be really wary of messin' with the servers, unless they set off some defense Kayaba installed and kill us all by accident."

Kyo looked up at the ceiling of the café, frowning to herself. The only real worry, which she felt it would be unwise to voice out loud at the moment, was that if they were too slow to clear the game, the government might decide to pull the plug on all the people trapped in SAO. Japanese society had a certain propensity to want to sweep anything too troublesome under the rug... it was knowledge of that tendency, Kyo figured, that encouraged criminal players to endanger others for personal gain in here. There was almost no chance of anyone else suffering consequences for other players' deaths once everyone else got out; all the blame would fall on Kayaba. Japan would not want any ugly, contentious court-cases prolonging public unrest over the incident.

By that same token, though, the fact that the ten-thousand victims of SAO were so scattered and random, with families in all walks of society who would cause an outcry if the government moved to do something so drastic... it would make that something of a no-win scenario for the government for quite some time. By Kyo's estimates, they had maybe a decade or more until that became a true risk... which just left the health of their physical bodies as the main concern.

If we're lucky, Kyo thought dully, they'll use this as an opportunity t' make some advances in coma-ward care.

Well, no sense worrying over things they couldn't control from inside the game. Kyo tuned back into the moment, just in time for Takao's response to her more humanity-positive speculations about Full-Dive tech. She blinked at the mention of Cardinal; this was something she was unfamiliar with. Though she knew that something had been responsible for several system updates and content changes over the past years, Kyo had always assumed it was Kayaba acting directly.

"...I wouldn't worry about Kayaba hearin' what either of us say right now," Kyo said slowly. "Way I figure it, he's either hidin' in a mountain cabin somewhere, watchin' us from a birds-eye view like SAO's his own personal ant-farm, or he's in here with us, disguised as a player."

It was the first time Kyo had verbalized her speculations about Kayaba's whereabouts, and the only reason she was comfortable doing that was because she was sure that, even if Kayaba had been disguised as a player, it wouldn't be a player running an in-game restaurant using the Cooking skill. She shrugged, then, and added nonchalantly:

"Either way, he wouldn't kill anyone off like that. At least, I don't think so. Doesn't fit the sense I've got for the guy, based on what I know of him IRL and his words on that first day. Call me crazy, but I think he's got a twisted sense of fair play, and if someone had, say, a more personal vendetta against him, he'd see it more as an interestin' source o' drama for the 'story' o' his world, than any kinda real threat."

...Which brushed a little too close for comfort to her own situation, Kyo thought. Time for a change of subject!

"More importantly, what's Cardinal?" Kyo asked, putting her chin in her hands and looking curiously over now-empty plates and the still-untouched dessert, frowning in confusion. "This is the first I'm hearin' about somethin' makin' game content by itself... although, it does kinda make sense, given the scale o' this game... even Daggerfall back in the day only managed what it did with a massive shit-ton o' procedural generation..."

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Some of Takao's paranoia immediately eased when Kyo assured him that speaking candidly wouldn't incur Kayaba's wrath. He let out a sigh of relief, a hint of his overly trusting nature surfacing. Content with the reassurance, he settled back into the chair, and Otoko, albeit warily, followed suit and laid back down on the table. Takao lifted his legs onto the chair, crossing them to find a comfortable position.

Then, Kyo inquired about the Cardinal system, and Takao's head visibly tilted.

"You don't know about it?" he asked, surprised. "Huh."

Takao scratched his chin and thought about how to best explain such a complex thing. In a way, Cardinal was the entire game that they experienced, as they experienced it. It was hard to describe it when he wanted to simply gush about the technology he did understand quite well.

"Well... Cardinal is Sword Art Online's proprietary AI responsible for creating almost all of the game's content. The game is almost entirely procedurally generated by Cardinal, except for some pre-programmed elements like the floors and bosses. But it controls so much else! It creates quests, adjusts monster spawn rates, determines the amount of experience points they drop..." He spoke rapidly, pausing to inhale sharply before continuing.

"...and it also keeps track of bugs and fixes them in real time! Cardinal is seriously powerful, it has to be some of the most advanced AI created to date. It can change the geography of the game if it needs to. In reality, if the game ever seems too unfair or unbalanced, its probably something not touched by Cardinal. Some people even think that it can capture your entire likeness and can create a perfect AI body double, completely indistinguishable from the real you!"

By the time he finished his explanation, he was catching his breath. Even then, he felt unsatisfied, wanting to delve into more detail about how Cardinal designed monsters in real-time, developed their behaviors, and balanced them based on how players interacted with the world. It all seemed impossible, as if it were the work of an omnipotent god designing the world to their liking. The more he thought about it, though, wasn't that more or less the case here anyway?

"If you think the NerveGear tech is impressive, lemme tell ya, the game wouldn't be a quarter of what it is without Cardinal. We'd all be fighting the same ten enemies with the same ten attack patterns, just with different skins on different floors, just like any other MMO."

In the realm of player discourse, conversations often revolved around playing the game, discussions centered on exploiting it for personal gain, immersed in numbers and efficiency. The opportunity to engage in a conversation about the game itself, despite a brief episode of self-induced paranoia, was invigorating for Takao. He became fully engrossed, unaware that the last patrons had departed, and evening seamlessly transitioned into night. The warm lights within his café mirrored the gentle glow of a late evening, creating an atmosphere of quiet tranquility, and made that transition almost unnoticeable.

 

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Kyo's gaze was intent on Takao as he expanded on what he'd said about Cardinal. As he got into just how involved Cardinal was in crafting and revising the content of SAO, though, her eyebrows steadily went up. Partway through she blindly reached for the dessert Takao had brought her at the start of their conversation, grabbed a spoon (also without looking) and began shoveling the food into her mouth rapidly... seemingly just to ground herself as she took it all in.

When he finished talking, she froze in place right where she was, with a mouthful of that sweet treat already having been shoved into her mouth, spoon along with it. She sat like that for about five seconds, then swallowed, setting the spoon aside.

"That's..." Kyo said slowly. "Wow. That's... a lot more'n I was expecting. 'Specially given how easy a time I've had trippin' up the dialogue scripts o' those dumb-as-bricks NPCs down on floor one. But I guess it makes sense that a lotta regular NPCs are just basic bots... even if Kayaba or his dev team'd developed really good-ass AI, the game wouldn't have the processin' power to apply it t' all the NPCs in the game. Just a select few. You're right, all o' that's pretty amazin', and now I think of it, if he really wanted this t' be a 'world...'"

Kyo's eyes clouded as she considered this.

"How'd he do it, though?" Kyo asked, sounding genuinely baffled. "The progress o' AI learnin' ain't even got t' the point where art generators can get hands right, and there ain't any games like SAO for this 'Cardinal' to even learn from. T'do everythin' you're talkin' about, the system would hafta be on a level that'd make Alan Turing's eyes pop! And if the AI's at that level, it... JESUS CHRIST."

Kyo sprang up to her feet, and now her own eyes were popping: SAO's emotional-expression system doing its fair-weather best to exaggerate her expression as it always did.

"It couldn't be sapient, could it?!" Kyo yelled. "If it were... I-I mean... and what about any NPCs that level o' AI gets applied to?! That can't be right, I can't just bulldoze my way through this game if there's a chance that...!"

Kyo snapped out of her seeming panic, and her eyes jolted back down to Takao. Then there was a SLAM! as she brought her hands palm-first down onto the table, rattling it with the impact, and leaned over.

"How much d'you know about this?!" she said, almost pleading. "You're not yankin' my chain right now, are ya?! I-If Kayaba actually has made those sorta breakthroughs in AI development, it changes everything! About the game, about winnin' the damn thing, about what Kayaba's doing with all this, everything!"

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Takao appeared entirely oblivious to Kyo's growing unease, mirroring his own concerns from just moments before, regarding the potential implications of the technology he held in high regard. Kyo accurately deduced that deploying an asset like Cardinal didn't necessitate its application throughout the entire game, recognizing the need to let the AI focus on its strengths. Takao believed that while Cardinal could enhance the dialogue of some NPCs, especially in unique instances, such intricate interactions were largely unnecessary. For example, he saw no issue with the repetitive scripts of shopkeepers.

His visible recoil came when Kyo abruptly stood up and expressed her anxieties. Otoko, now alert and attentive, mirrored Takao's worry with a shared glance before redirecting their focus back to Kyo. As she slammed her hands on the table, Otoko swiftly scurried, initially struggling for traction on the table, before launching onto Takao's shoulders and peeking cautiously over his head with wide orange eyes. In response, Takao further recoiled, his limbs flailing, and his arms adopting a more defensive posture.

"S-sapient?! No way! I mean... that's not how it works at all!" he protested, defensively waving his hands. Attempting to allay Kyo's concerns as if pleading for his life, Takao continued, "It's just a sophisticated game master AI! It keeps things fair and fresh, and gets rid of bugs!"

While his words conveyed confidence, Takao wasn't entirely sure if he believed them himself. This was all theoretical, and the true nature of AI remained elusive.

"I mean... he, for sure, has made insane breakthroughs, and this kind of AI is pretty new... But sentient AI comes from a lack of understanding about how AI actually works! The level of self-awareness, understanding of meaning, and subjective experience... It's all things we can only simulate, nothing the AI can create for itself." Takao stayed on the defensive, like his words were defusing a bomb. "Cardinal has pretty specific instructions! If a monster is too hard, make it weaker. If it's too weak but gives mad EXP, make it harder or give less. If a monster is encountered this many times, make that monster appear less and create a new monster in its place. You know? Stuff like that, it doesn't actually think for itself!"

She inquired about how much knowledge she possessed, pondering which aspects would be most revealing. In truth, he held a considerable amount of information, though not in the technical intricacies of precisely how the artificial intelligence operated but more on a conceptual or theoretical level. Having missed the chance to participate in the beta, he vividly remembered various articles and forum posts about the Cardinal system that surfaced shortly after its initiation.

"I know a little bit, but only surface-level stuff, really! You don't have to worry about it affecting our chances of winning the game either. From what I understand, Kayaba is still at the helm," Takao reassured her, taking a much-needed breath as his shoulders finally slumped.

"You know... The more I think about it, the more I think this is all just to fulfill Kayaba's personal fantasy. He creates a world that can populate it with new content without his doing, and what you said about him maybe being disguised as a player? It would make the death game stuff make more sense; if he wanted this to be as close to a real world, that's the only way to get people to play along."

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Kyo realized that in her panic, she'd done something again. Something that she'd been doing all her life, and that only Kenshin had ever really understood her well enough not to be swept away by: she'd rushed on to the conclusion of her logic without adequately explaining the thought process that had brought her there. And really, Kyo had trouble following her own logic sometimes. It was as if her brain worked faster than her own ability to track it, when it really got going, forcing her to stop and breathe and close her eyes and actually ask herself what she was thinking before she could even get a handle on how to explain it to someone else. Sometimes she barely even managed that... a few times, even though she was reasonably certain that her logic worked, she couldn't explain it well enough to convince someone else of that.

So she took a breath, slowly sat down, and tried to focus. Tried to roll her thoughts back to square one and play them back at half-speed, so she could examine them.

She opened one eye to look at Takao, when he talked about Kayaba and his personal fantasy.

"I mean, you're not wrong, but I don't think you're all the way right," Kyo said. "The fact that he felt the need t' trap other people in here... it means he's more of a Dungeon Master than a player. He wants others t' share that fantasy. The key t' understandin' Kayaba's particular brand o' crazy lies in understandin' why he needed other people t' experience it, and then askin' why it wasn't enough for it just t' be a game we could leave at any time."

That single open eye closed again, and she took a breath.

"This much I've understood, more or less, for a good-long while," Kyo said quietly. "I've had a lotta time, these past two years, t' think about that bastard and try t' understand 'im. 'Cause he's the game master, right? The administrator o' Sword Art Online. If I'm gonna have any hope o' gettin' back at him for what he... for what he did t' me, then the only hope's in figurin' the guy out and identifyin' a weakness o' some kind. Or just playin' by his rules and hopin' I understand 'im well enough t' believe he'll keep his word and end all o' this..."

She drew in a breath.

"But Cardinal... changes things," Kyo said softly. "At least if it can do what you just said it could. I said 'sapient,' not self-aware. What I mean is that Kayaba might've managed AI on the level o' human intelligence. 'Sapient' only means human-like, see. When it comes t' AI, most AI tries t' ape human intelligence t' some extent, but all AI learning as we know it can really do is complex mimicry, just a really complicated game o' monkey-see, monkey-do. It lacks the ability t' look at its own work and make any kinda judgment call about its quality... bein' able t' do that is at the core of what separates human intelligence from artificial intelligence, and it's what makes AI more animal-like than human-like. 'Cause y'see, animals have a set of instructions they follow, too. We call 'em 'instincts,' but it's fundamentally the same. They have a set o' behavior patterns their entire existence revolves around and a very limited ability t' learn within those boundaries."

Kyo opened her eyes, and looked around.

"AI is typically the same way, we've just... designed them in a focused sorta way that narrows their entire existence down inta a single purpose. This AI can pretend t' hold a conversation, that AI can spit out grammatically-correct walls o' text and try t' pretend like it's havin' a conversation, that other AI can take text prompts and assemble a mish-mash o' art assets it has stored away, makin' a 'new' piece o' artwork from the components. But in all o' those cases, it's a human who has t' look at the work and then tell the AI that the quality of it's questionable. The AI can't do that part by itself. At all. The best it can do is be made better at not making mistakes in the first place."

The green-haired girl took a breath, then said:

"But this is a one of a kind VRMMO adventure, with a game system that's specifically tailored to it, attemptin' a game-design feat no one's ever managed," Kyo said. "Even if ya factor in that the music and art assets and even the core content and lore was all built by human hands, how does Cardinal know t' recognize when somethin' is 'too easy' or 'too hard?' How does it generate a quest and then look that quest over and decide that it's a good quest? How can it tell the difference between a bug and a feature? 'Cause that's the thing about AI, usually... it can't tell the difference between a bug and a feature. A human has t' do that part for 'em."

Kyo turned to look at Takao again, grimacing.

"The thing might not be self-aware, but bein' able t' make its own judgment about the quality of somethin'... well, that's the first step. The next step would be expressin' 'good' and 'bad' in a way that encourages the AI to pursue 'good' and avoid 'bad' on its own, sorta in... sorta in the same way a human's need t' eat and preference for different flavors and smells encourages us not just t' eat, but to enjoy eatin'. Or the way our sex drives and preferences make us wanna find a mate and reproduce. On some level, we feel like we hafta do those things, and the longer we don't, the more some part of us'll push us until we satisfy the survival instinct, but... layered on top are the things that make us want food or sex, and it's those things that feed inta our self-awareness. The instincts are more like annoyin' obligations, yeah?"

She paused here. Takao needed to show that he understood this part before Kyo could fully explain the rest.

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Takao sat in contemplative silence, caught between amazement at the depth of Kyo's explanation and confusion in the face of an overwhelming influx of information. He resisted the urge to interrupt, recognizing in her worries the echoes of his own preoccupation with artificial intelligence. The distinction between imminent AI takeover and a harmless concept from a bygone era was blurry, and while Kyo found herself on one side of the fence, Takao found himself on the other.

"I guess I don't really know the difference?" he admitted, scratching the side of his tilted head. "Sapient means, like, human, right? It's for sure not human; artificial intelligence is just computers and algorithms."

Deep in thought, he crossed his arms and closed his eyes, his mind wandering. Allaying Kyo's fears seemed like an impossible task, and it sounded to him like she held a concrete opinion on AI. Given that neither of them really knew what Cardinal was, how it worked, or its true nature, debating just how sapient, sentient, or self-aware it could be seemed like a futile exercise. Like the overarching concerns about AI at large, Cardinal could either be a harmless game enhancer or a digital scourge dooming them all.

"Well... as for how Cardinal knows if something is hard or difficult, I think you might be putting too much stock into the term 'knows.' I mean, adaptive difficulty has existed in games since before VR was even a thing, that kind of tech has existed since the '80s." He sucked in a breath and continued.

"Regarding determining between bugs and features, it's actually a super nuanced process that involves a lot of moving parts. Automated testing, static code analysis tools, historical data analysis, and machine learning models... You can even include user intent recognition algorithms to understand if a user perceives a certain behavior as intended or as a problem. Not to mention the human-in-the-loop approach, where developers provide feedback on the system." Takao leaned forward, resting his hand on his chin, petting Otoko idly. His legs tensed, lifting the front two legs of his chair into the air to balance on the rear pair.

"You can't keep a game like Sword Art Online running without constant upkeep. Regardless of how good Kayaba or Cardinal are, nothing beats mass user testing. That's why so many games do huge day one patches; nobody is better at breaking games than thousands of concurrent players."

Last of all, she touched back on the idea of the AI's interpretation of quality. A concept as cut and dry as that to Takao seemed to fill Kyo with a great deal of worry, something he could empathize with but did not share in. He considered a thoughtful way to broach the subject.

"An AI doesn't decide for itself if something is good or bad. It's given a set of rules that dictate upper and lower limits, and the AI operates within those boundaries. Adaptive difficulty, training off developer-made quests and lore, automated bug detection and fixing... these are all technologies that have existed on their own before SAO, Cardinal just brings them together. But, ultimately, I guess there's no real way of nothing anything for sure..." His mind wandered, and then he too grimaced, his face twisting in disgust.

"Ugh.. I don't want to think about an AI developing a sex drive..."

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Kyo internally sighed as Takao slowly expressed his skepticism about the concerns that Kyo had raised. She ran a hand through her green hair, looking around the room as if the café itself might present her with a ready-made sequence of words that would adequately express her concern.

Takao's mention of an AI developing a sex drive prompted a most unladylike snort from the girl, and she glanced sidelong at Takao.

"That's a thing that'd hafta be programmed in t' begin with, just like it is for us," Kyo said flatly. "What I'm more concerned about is what would happen if a really complex, high-functionin' AI of somethin' like Cardinal's level were given a directive like, 'create an AI routine for this companion NPC that's as realistic as it can be.' Or maybe somethin' like, 'create a genuinely helpful player-support NPC that can act as a middleman between players and GMs.' It would only really be possible in the first place if the 'mother' AI, in this case Cardinal, already had that capability itself... or was sophisticated enough t' learn it through trial and error. Like an AI that was put in charge o' content generation and bugfixing might."

Kyo swept her left hand back, gesturing back around herself at the room... and everything beyond it.

"We're two years and counting inta this game," Kyo said, "with a little less than three-quarters of Aincrad yet t' be conquered. That's a lotta trial and error for an AI like Cardinal t' mess around with... so, I know that a lotta the basic NPCs are the kinda rock-stupid shopkeepers that'll just loop back t' the start o' the line they were sayin' if ya interrupt 'em, but have there been any NPCs with more sophisticated chat patterns? Ones that respond t' words or questions y'wouldn't expect 'em t' recognize, maybe? Any NPCs that maybe blur the lines a bit when y' talk to 'em?"

Kyo dropped her arms and turned her attention back to the dessert.

"Thing is, it doesn't really matter if the AI is really at that level if it looks like it could be at that level," she groused. "From inside the game, we don't have the means t' tell the difference, and that... makes it impossible t' say what the 'right' thing t' do is if it comes up. If they're 'just NPCs' and they behave like they're 'just NPCs,' then no sweat, play the game and move on. But if they start actin' like they're real people... if they even just manage a convincin' enough imitation of it..."

Suddenly, Kyo's anxiety with this possibility deflated, and she slumped in her chair.

"Well, no use gettin' our knickers in a twist over it until we run into it, I guess... but in a way, if any AI at that level were involved in this, they might be as much a victim o' the death game as the players are..."

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