part 2

". . .so when Poe's repetitive usage of a specific meter coincides with
the rhyme on several occasions, it is considered creative?" NukuNuku's
brow furrowed as she looked at the literature on the page. She didn't
need to, though; she had memorised it already.

"Yes, and skillful. If they can tell a story..."

"But it is not difficult to produce words that arrange that way." Kyu
groaned. This was the third time he came back to this point. She was
improving on this point of creativity, watching various media and
listening to music trying to develop the taste for such things, but the
depth of high school comprehensive foreign literature proved to be her
greatest hurdle yet.

"Maybe I should approach this differently..." He began to scratch his
head, thankful that he had gotten sleep the night before. He doubted he
would have had the stamina for this otherwise. He stretched his arms
upward, sitting upright slowly.

They had been sitting on the floor in front of the computer loft area of
his apartment, somewhat in front of the hallway. They'd have use the
table, but there was sensitive equipment on it at the time.

"I'm sorry, Papa-san...," she said weakly, her eyes shrinking in
disappointment.

"What for?"

"That I'm so slow...," she mumbled.

"Slow!?" He stood up. "SLOW!?" his thin frame began to quake with anger.
NukuNuku shrank back from him, pulling her knees to her face. Kyu
deflated quickly, seeing his tone of voice had gotten out of hand. "Look
at me," he said more calmly. "You are a beginner, NukuNuku. Not slow.
There is a difference." He wrapped his arms around her and her knees.

NukuNuku was embarrassed. She was so slow she couldn't figure out simple
literature concepts and now she had made Papa-san angry. She felt
miserable and if she could have cried she would have. Everybody kept
telling her that not being exactly human yet wasn't worth worrying
about. They were so wrong, so very very wrong. Everything was so
important to her being totally alive again. Every new nerve net in her
skin, like the first one in her lips, able to feel every cool air pass
over it; every sound she made, to be carefully tailored to come back to
human. Every idea, every concept, every sight, everything was so
precious to her.

Every experience...

"You are very very fast, NukuNuku. I should know, I designed your
systems myself." She sniffled, trying to feign crying effects. "Oh hush,
girl. It's just that your new to these ideas. Almost nobody can take off
with something new without natural talent." She looked past her knees at
Kyu's face, shrouded by his oh-so-badly-needed-trimmed bangs, curios. No
matter what, Papa-san would always say things to NukuNuku, when she
wanted to listen most. "Do you think I was a great cyberneticist?"

She sniffled again as her posture began to straighten, her face asking
the question for her.

"No of course not, NukuNuku. I was never any kind of certified
cyberneticist. I was a, well... am a roboticist. And no, I wasn't good
to start with." He relinquished his embrace on her and stood up again,
making his way to the kitchen area. "I had to learn a lot, and I had to
learn how everything I knew was important." He reached into the fridge,
pulling out a sake bottle. He grunted as he noticed it was empty, but
then noticed a fresh unopened one next to it's place.  "I also had to
learn how to mix up what I learned. To get new ideas, you know." (She
must have bought this.) He pulled a can of sardines out as well before
shutting the door. "And that took time, NukuNuku. Lots of time, and
help..." He looked at the photo album in his computer loft breifly
before sitting down. "...from those around me. They taught me much."

"You've taught me much, Papa-san!"

He laughed softly as he took his seat. "And you've taught me so much. I
had to relearn ho to do things for you."

"Relearn?" she said genuinely intrigued with his dialogue.

"Yep. I had to think about one thing while thinking about another, and
then I had to remember why the two separate things related." He popped
the cork with the key from the sardine can rather skillfully. "I had
some practise with Ryunnosuke, but..." he handed her the can. "You were
entirely new. I was a beginner..." She began to idly munch on the
contents of the can. "...hmm...That gives me an idea..."

"Hmm?" she sighed softly. Kyusaku continued his silence for a moment

"Okay. Try this. " He reseated himself near the study materials. "Poetry
was like... a program for people of the past."

"Program?" She blinked, her eyes wide.

"Yeah. To write something they had to use parameters and couldn't step
out of them." He began to point to the Bells by Poe, and it haiku
counter-part by Edogawan {ed note 1}. "Their language was one
parameter."

"Uh-huh."

"Their topic was another. And whatever device they used was another. And
the more parameters they tried to use, the more difficult it became to
get the other parameters. Kind of like a puzzle, it gets more complex
with more pieces."

"Why is it skillful?"

"Because for people it is hard to remember everything we remember. I
know much Japanese, but you know all Japanese. Down to every last Kanji.
When writing poetry, people usually studied their own languages for
great lengths of time, and in great depth before they tried to write."

"And they studied devices too?"

"That's right. And then they had to decide what to write about. Love,
hate, good, bad, right and wrong...," where upon he poured into his
small bowl. "And then some wrote about time, and memories. Or progress,
or animals..." he cleared his throat.

"Tyger, Taiguru [ed note2], burning bright
In the forests of the night
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

And what shoulderm & what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?"

NukuNuku sat there in rapt attention of Kyusaku. "Wow, that's pretty."

"That was just a piece of the whole poem. And that was another
parameter. They had to make money from publishing their works so other
people had to like it in most cases. Some older ones were purely
religious to glorify the spirits of the Earth."

"Another parameter?"

"Uh-huh. Then," he pointed at the book, "...they had to use all the
parameters at once. That might not be too hard for just a few
parameters. Like a simple rhyme. But once you get going, it gets harder
for most people. Like Poe.

"lessee...He had rhyme, but he had four different types of rhyme, and
three different rhythms. He used rather obscure words for his language
and they made sense grammatically when strung together in this fashion."

"But, its just a program with parameters, right?"

"Yep, but people couldn't think like a computer when they wrote these.
They thought with their hearts most of the time. When you learn to do
that..."

"You mean I shouldn't run programs?"

Kyusaku shook his head. "No no, run programs, but like people you need
to decide when to think rationally, like a program, and when to think
with your heart."

NukuNuku stared down at the textbook, letting his speech sink in.
Kyusaku sat back, enjoying a long drink from the bowl. His thoughts
drifted briefly to the meal he promised Ryunnosuke earlier. Akiko had
called ahead to let them know she wouldn't make it until Sunday.

"Papa-san?"

At least she let us know ahead of time. "Yes?"

"Do I have -natural talent-?"

"Ahuhh," he exhaled. "Well, um..." He scratched the back of his head.
"Ahehheh... *AHEM*. well NukuNuku, its hard to say..."

"Hard to say?"

"Well, its difficult because almost everybody has different talents."

"Do I have one?"

"Of course you do. Everyone does. That's what natural means."

"What is it?"

"Well sometimes you just have to find it."

"How?"

"...ehhh," Kyu scratched his head some more. "Well, some people find it
by accident. Others have their friends help them."

"Will you help me find mine?" she said hopefully, eyes beaming.

"Sure, I can try..."

"Will Ryunnosuke help?"

"He might, if you ask...," he said his smile widening.

"Will Mama-san?"

His expression stalled slightly. "Well, she might, but she's very busy."

"And will Eimi-chan?"

Sweatdrop forms on Kyusaku's head.

=====

(Uh-oh. Great. No school records, no school.)

"Miss Yoshikawa, is something wrong?" Principal Ryutaro Yamadera was
staring down at Eimi's small frame.

(Think of something, you stupid machine!!) Eimi began to fiddle
slightly, as part of her undue stress subroutine telling her to do so.

The principal sat back in his chair. "You don't have them with you...am
I correct?" He meshed his fingers and relaxed his shoulders.

"Iie, Kouchou-sama," she said dejectedly, lowering her head.

"It's Yamadera, Miss Yoshikawa." He sat forward. "Well no need to look
depressed. You have computer records of it somewhere, right?" Eimi
looked up, her program working furiously. "Does professor Natsume have
them at home?"

"YES!" she shouted, standing and striking a pose and startling the
principal. "Uh-heh, I mean, Hai, Yamadera-kouchou." she took her seat as
her AI tried to shame her for such impulsive actions.

"Is he home now?"

"How should I know?...uh I mean. He did not mention any plans,
Sensei..." she sighed deeply.

"Well, let's contact him, shall we?"

"Oh," she stood up suddenly again, her programming acting suspiciously
quick. "Sensei, maybe I should call him, he may be in an experiment."

He turned the phone on his desk to face her, offering it to her. "He
mentioned something about his other occupation before teaching at the
last faculty meeting. I had no idea he still pursued it."

"Well, you know," she smiled heartily as she reached for the offered
phone. "Old habits die hard!"

===

ring(or, beep, I can't remember)

"I'll get it, Papa-san!" She laughed lightly as she crawled to the
phone. Kyusaku lit up. [as in a cigarette]

"Hai? Moshi-moshi?"

(oh great.) "NukuNuku- put Natsume on, quickly."

"Eimi-chan? Hi! How are you?"

"Would you put that blockhead on now, you dolt!"

"I thought you were registering to go to school today."

"I'm here right now, but I need to talk to Natsume!"

"Won't it be so much fun going to school together, Eimi-chan?"

A metallic and robotic growl resounded on the other end of NukuNuku's
line. "Perhaps..," she said in a dangerously happy tone. "...but we may
never find out if I don't get registered BECAUSE YOU WOULDN'T PUT HIM ON
THE DAMN PHONE!!!!"

NukuNuku held the phone away from her face, her scarlet hair blowing
slightly at the discharge from the receiver. She handed the unit to
Kyusaku, and peculiar expression on her face. "Its Eimi-chan, she says
she needs to talk to you."

(Talk to me? What for?) He took a long drag before speaking. "Yup?"

Eimi's tone changed to urgent. "Quickly! Access Eimi's school records
and have them forwarded here!"

"You are Eimi aren't you?" he said slowly.

"Not me you idiot! The real girl! And make some more records to fill in
her death!"

"Why didn't you get them yourself?"

"You moron! I'm too stupid to think about that kind of planning!"

"You're talking pretty freely for someone who is asking for help."

"Are you going to do it or not?"

"Yes, I'm going to do it, only because I don't want to see you sent back
to Mishima." Eimi shuddered. "Not because of your sweetening tone." he
said sarcastically. "What happened to when we first met when you were
hamming it up to us?"

She chewed her lip. Her first 'self-made' directive was to acquire the
NK-1124's body for itself. It was something she didn't relish in
remembering as there were virtually no parameters set for how to do it,
let alone question if it was possible. It was an embarrasing directive
to have thought of. "If you want to act more like a person, be nicer,
lower your voice. And I mean in decibels, not in pitch." He sat down in
front of his computer and began hacking quickly. Fingers flying across
the keyboard, he pulled up the records he was looking for. The format
was simple enough.

"Is this better, Kyusaku?"

"Much," he remarked. "...but try to avoid calling adult humans by their
first name." He began to fabricate  a four-and-a-half year long record
for Eimi's death. And while he was at it, he altered some identification
codes, and listed her as an adopted child to the Natsume, with Kyu as
primary guardian.

"Have you got it?" she said, trying to equate politeness with her
vocabulary, carefully choosing her words. It was hard and it made her
think slower, but her AI told her it would be most beneficial in the
end.

"Almost. You're my adopted-child. You like the flute. You study Romance
Languages, German is your favourite. You like volleyball. You aren't
good in Home economics class."

Eimi was confused at the second person narrative coming at her. "Huh?"
she said stupidly.

"I'm filling in blanks. Act like what I just said; use these as
parameters. And I'll show you someone who will teach you the flute."

"Are you stupid too? I barely have enough cultural database for Japanese
let alone another language!"

"Ah ah ah...nicer. Smile."

Eimi grit her teeth, causing a screeching noise which made Yamadera look
up from his appointment book. Eimi's AI suddenly dropped all subroutines
and reinitialised her other major routines she had called for herself.
She prioritised.

1-Not be in Mishima. Mishima unacceptable.
2-Not in Mishima, then in school.
3-Not in school, then in Mishima.
4-Must get in school
5-Kyusaku Natsume places in school.
6-Not placed in school, return to 3
7-Kyusaku Natsume Says 'be nice.'
8-Not nice, then Kyusaku not place in school.
9-Not in school, return to 3

"Honto ni gomenasai, Natsume Sensei. I am not smart enough to know more
than one language," she said in an extremely small voice.

"Well then we'll have to look at upgrading you, won't we?"

(Upgrading?)

Kyu changed shoulder for the phone as NukuNuku listened intently to both
sides of the conversation with her hyberband. "Until then, this record
will get you by Ryutaro and his computer easily enough. Once your done
there head home quickly. And 'home' means here at my apartment." Kyusaku
had learned that sometimes the obvious to him, wasn't quite so obvious
to others. NukuNuku had taught him that.

Eimi made a mental tag.

Home: place of residence. when referred to personal possession is
understood to be apt 168 Nerima Heights apartments.

Her AI bugged her briefly before she finally muttered, "Thank you,
Natsume Sensei."

"Ojisan will be fine.[ed note 3] And good luck, Eimi."

He deposited the cordless phone beside the computer, while
simultaneously punching the -send- button on the forged records. "Well,
that was interesting."

"Will Eimi-chan make it?"

"Even she couldn't botch it up from here forward." (I hope.) "Besides,
she still hasn't broken the four prime directives of robotics so..."

"What is it?"

"Well, she's been running as an independent program for
almost...actually...," he turned to face the monitor and began hacking
towards Mishima. Actually, as much as he was in their mainframe, he
could swear some of the password and encryption relays said 'hi' or let
him by because they couldn't stop him. He checked some of Yoshikawa's
records and experiment logs. "Well I'll be damned, he let the program
run inside a dedicated computer for almost an entire year before it went
idle."

"That means she's been active longer than we thought. So what does that
mean?"

"She has some potential. Maybe we can make something out of this...
situation. Maybe even learn something." Kyu took a short drag. (I wonder
how he got the program into the robot body after his death? That clever
old...) A dry smile crossed his face. He was probably going to get his
answers soon.

====

Eimi exhaled her cooling system, having generated too much internal heat
in the phone conversation. She briefly wondered if that was why humans
sighed. She sat back in the chair heavily, almost forgetting to adjust
her servo's to the chair's maximum weight.

"Well?"

She looked up suddenly. "Aheh! Well, he said he'd find them for me and
send them in a moment!" She said as cheerily as she could think of. It
seemed to have the effect.

"Very well...," he began to access his computer, at least, from where
Eimi sat it looked like it. A lot of her on-task load had just been
lightened but she still felt a certain tension. It didn't take too long
to find out why. The one thing she did learn in Mishima was that
Machines tended to be more consistent than interacting with humans. Not
having constant meant having variables.

Eimi didn't like variables. In fact, she hated them. They were her
number one cause for neural net slippage, or headaches.

She waited impatiently for her variables to resolve themselves, as she
had learned was the best thing to do. Her AI kept telling her that she
had nothing to worry about for now.

She didn't believe it.

"While we wait for the information to come through, why don't I show you
the higher points of my school?"

(Your school?) she thought with a distaste she didn't understand. "Uh,
Kouchou, you really do not have to..."

He stood up. He was much taller than her optics had portrayed. "I know."

She was getting hazy again, as confusion sought for control of her on
task database- much like an invading virus. "I don't understand you,"
she said much too loudly.

"Please, Miss Yoshikawa," he said, holding his hand up. "There are some
tutorings taking place on weekends. Now then, actually I would be
delighted to host someone Professor Natsume has hosted. I have already
heard from his son at the elementary school, and Atsuko's study habits
are an example to be followed in these lazy halls of children. If you
are anything like his past two, then It would benefit me greatly to have
you receive the best impression of this school."

Her AI told her to relax again, reclaiming her on task database from its
confusion. "Oh," she said softly.

"Perhaps even a study companion for the first few weeks would be nice,
eh?"

"Arigatou gozaimasu...," she said as she too stood up. (Well, he wants
another puppet.) her broken AI told her. She didn't understand that
remark totally, but decided to think about it in a few hours. She
followed the principal out into the hallway. Maybe things would turn out
alright after all. Her AI kept nagging her with an impulse 'I told you
so.'

-------

ed note 1--Contemporary poet and first real recognised mystery &
detective story writer of Japan during the early 20 century. Pen name of
Edogawa Ranpo. Real name Hirai Tarou

ed note 2--ta i gu ru. Japanese romanisation of the word Tiger.
Tiger-Tyger-Taiguru

ed note 3--NOT ojiisan, which  is grandfather; ojisan can mean mister,
or uncle

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