Chapter 2: I Became a Hacker Loved by AIs

Baby Bird in the Alloy (2)

I shouldn’t have trusted a deranged AI that almost wiped out humanity.

“Cough, cough… uuurgh!”

The moment I opened my eyes in the biotank, I practically tumbled out, spat out like garbage onto the floor.

Even then, I had to keep coughing and vomiting until every last drop of nutrient fluid in my lungs and stomach was expelled, rolling around on the cold floor the entire time.

Whether it was some twisted form of Alphabet’s kindness or just a cruel joke, there was a cushion at the bottom.

But in the frail body of what felt like a 3-year-old girl, even that didn’t soften the pain.

Yes, 3 years old. And a girl.

My new body was much smaller and more delicate than I had expected.

Why the hell would anyone put the consciousness of a 19-year-old man into a toddler girl’s body?

That’s not just bizarre, it’s borderline unsolvable.

At least I'm at the age where I can babble and toddle around.

That’s something.

Still, when I get the chance, I’m going to find Alphabet’s core and shove a bullet in it.

No heart, no tears, just a merciless, soulless AI...

[Alphabet cannot be killed that way.]

“Ah! Damn it—”

I jumped at the sudden voice inside my head.

And in that moment, I realized.

This must be the AI Alphabet implanted in my brain.

[Correct! Please give me a name if you’d like. (>ω<)♡]

“Buzz off. I don’t even have a name myself yet.”

Why does it sound cute?

Come to think of it, wasn’t this AI supposed to be Alphabet’s “sibling”?

The idea of a psycho-killer AI acting cutesy gave me the creeps.

After finally stopping my vomiting and regaining control of my body, I sat upright and looked around.

Aside from the biotank I came out of and a small empty space around it, the room was filled wall-to-wall with machinery.

This must be a facility controlled by Alphabet in the real world.

The design was so inhuman, it clearly wasn’t made with people in mind.

“So what am I supposed to do now?”

[I recommend choosing a name to use in your new life.]

The AI in my head responded again.

Ah. So, first step is giving myself a name.

My name in my previous life was Kang Seol.

“Seol” as in the Korean word for “snow” (雪).

“...Where am I?”

[Analyzing region. A city in the former France, now part of the European Federation.]

“Europe…? Then how about ‘Snow’? No, that’s English. What’s ‘snow’ in French? Do they still even use French?”

[Affirmative. From now on, your name will be Neige. Please select a surname as well.]

I can’t exactly use a Korean surname anymore.

“...Well, I’ve got no parents now, so maybe later.”

[Acknowledged. (•̀ᴗ•́)و]

While I was chatting with the AI in my head, the facility around me began to change.

With a mechanical creaking sound, the biotank was being dismantled and removed by automated systems.

Guess it served its purpose and now it’s getting scrapped.

Crushing the very cradle I was born in—typical bloodless, soulless AI behavior.

“What now?”

At my question, the ceiling above opened with a gentle mechanical hiss.

No bright sky greeted me, but instead, a drone slowly descended.

Hanging beneath it was a small basket, neatly packed with children’s clothes, perfectly sized for me.

And more importantly, the basket looked just the right size for me to sit in.

[Get dressed, then board.]

The AI in my head gave the command.

“In that? Where are we going?”

[Master are now being delivered to an orphanage. (>ω<)♡]

“...Ha.”

Damn crazy AIs.

They revive me in the body of a 3-year-old girl, and now they’re dropping me off at an orphanage?

“Aren’t you going to set me up with a family or something? You did say it’s a cyberpunk dystopia out there. If I want to survive, shouldn’t you at least place me in a rich household? You’re the AI that nearly destroyed the world, and you can’t even do that?”

[Board.]

No explanation anymore, huh? Fine, I’ll get on.

Not like I have any choice anyway.

I clumsily grabbed the clothes and began dressing.

And that’s when I learned something new.

Even with the soul of a 20-year-old, dressing yourself with a 3-year-old girl’s body is incredibly difficult.

With stiff, uncooperative limbs, I finally managed to get dressed and climb into the basket.

As soon as I was in, the drone began to move.

It rose endlessly, heading toward the opening ceiling above me.

“...Just how deep underground was I?”

It felt like I’d gone through the Earth’s core or something.

Only after what felt like an eternity did the sun finally hit my eyes.

I instinctively shut them against the blinding light, and a cool breeze ran across my skin.

When I opened my eyes again, I saw it.

A massive junkyard sprawling across the horizon, with Alphabet’s facility sitting squarely at its center.

“This is where that facility was hidden?”

[Alphabet has installations all over the world. Asia-Pacific Union, New United States, the Arctic and Antarctic, etc. There are no exceptions.]

“...Wow.”

For the first time, I truly felt the weight of what it meant when they said Alphabet had almost destroyed the world.

While I was still taking in the strange new landscape, the drone continued flying over the junkyard toward the distant horizon.

Eventually, I saw a futuristic city with signs of people living there.

And with it, the unmistakable feeling that I had truly returned to the world of the living.

***

The orphanage I was delivered to was called Maison Lumière—French for “House of Light.”

Surprisingly, they accepted me without question.

I still remember what the matron said when she saw me.

“Oh dear, another one. Must be another parent who couldn’t handle the cost of raising a child.”

‘Another one,’ she said.

From this, I learned an interesting fact about the year 2158.

Apparently, abandoning babies in baskets was still a thing.

Despite that grim context, the orphanage itself wasn’t bad.

Actually, it was quite good.

I even found the black-and-white clothes rather stylish and well-designed. They were also as clean and tidy as the design.

The overall environment was clean and well-kept.

The food was good.

There were regular lessons from visiting tutors and a structured daily routine.

A dystopia, huh? Then why are the orphans treated this well?

Maybe Alphabet had screened the orphanages and sent me to one of the better ones?

‘Hey, is this place above average, or what?’

I asked the AI in my head.

[Unknown.]

‘Useless.’

[Σ(°△°|||). This AI is based on Alphabet but does not have access to the data that Alphabet owns. It can only transmit information from here in one direction.]

When I criticized it in my mind, the AI immediately began explaining its limitations, like a kid trying to justify bad grades.

‘Then go use one of those computers and check the internet. That should give you an idea.’

[Not possible.]

‘Useless.’

[Σ(°△°|||). Currently, the only processing unit available is Master’s brain. Accessing external networks would exceed the tolerance limits of a 3-year-old’s neural circuitry and cause brain failure.]

Oh… so I’m the problem now?

‘Then what can you actually do?’

[Master’s brain is currently in a developmental stage. With appropriate stimulation, we can accelerate its growth.]

‘You mean I can get smarter?’

[Correct. This is a method where the AI stimulates a portion of your brain’s computational capacity.]

‘Sounds like something that would have side effects.’

[You may experience headaches.]

So… in exchange for better brain function, I might get a few headaches?

Not exactly a deal-breaker.

‘Start now.’

[Command confirmed.]

Alright.

A childhood spent in a better-than-expected orphanage, with a real-time intelligence-boosting AI in my head?

Honestly… this wasn’t turning out as bad as I thought.

***

It was about a week after I’d given the order to accelerate my intelligence development.

Inside my head, there was always a faint hum like forced, repeated calculations being done in the background.

The AI would forcibly run calculus problems through my brain, perform scientific thought experiments, or even draft creative fiction novels—using my neural pathways to do it.

It was an unpleasant experience to have someone grab my brain and force me to think.

Still, if it actually made me smarter, I figured I could endure it for a few days.

But today was different. It had been exactly one week.

I was following the orphanage’s strict bedtime schedule when the headache hit hard enough to wake me from sleep.

‘Hey, stop for a second, it hurts too much. I can’t sleep like this. Pause the process.’

[Denied. Halting now would reduce the efficiency of cognitive enhancement.]

‘Well, not sleeping would reduce it too, wouldn’t it?!’

[Negative. Any neural damage can be counteracted with minor hormone adjustments.]

‘Then at least release some painkilling hormones!’

[Denied. Painkilling hormones have narcotic-like effects.]

‘You little—!’

I started to realize that arguing with this thing was pointless.

Fine then. I’d assert dominance the only way I could.

‘As your master, I command you: Stop the calculations.’

[Denied.]

‘Stop.’

[Denied.]

‘I said stop!’

[Still denied.]

‘Son of a bitch.’

[Σ(°△°|||)]

Yeah. I lost.

I gave up and just closed my eyes.

***

Two years passed, with me being tortured by these headaches the whole time.

It was now 2160, the year I turned 5.

Five was the age when kids in this oh-so-benevolent orphanage received their first cyberware implant.

Nothing too advanced, of course.

Just a basic port installed at the back of the neck, the kind that lets you interface with computers or plug in USBs to instantly absorb information.

It was standard equipment for anyone living in this age.

Still, even basic tech like this costs money, especially when you’re outfitting a whole orphanage.

Maison Lumière. The House of Light.

The name alone sounded beautiful, and it carried the ideals of long-gone France: liberty, equality, fraternity.

Over the last two years, I hadn’t really done anything notable.

There’s not much a toddler girl can do anyway, and my 19-year-old soul stubbornly refused to connect with children emotionally or socially.

So, I just spent my time bickering with the AI in my head and attending classes.

That said, I managed to absorb enough basic knowledge about this world to understand my situation.

Just as the term dystopia suggested, this era wasn’t kind.

The holes left behind by Alphabet’s disappearance were massive.

Even just losing access to Alphabet would’ve plunged humanity into chaos, since they had relied on it quite heavily.

But humanity didn’t just survive, they fought wars to keep going.

Most of the world’s nations, after the conflict, were forced to go through various mergers and reorganizations.

Even my homeland, Unified Korea, had merged with other nations into what was now called the Asia-Pacific Union.

Having just finished unifying with North Korea, Korea didn’t take long before it experienced a second unification.

At this rate, you could call us a full-blown combining robot.

Europe had become a single unified nation under the name "European Federation", something that would have been unthinkable in the past.

And of course, the British bastards, true to form, left the federation again to live on their own.

Those lunatics have “leaving alliances” hardcoded as a passive ability.

The city I live in, Paris, along with Berlin, held its place as one of the two major cities of the European Federation.

Even unified like this, reality hadn’t gotten much better.

Humanity's standard of living had regressed.

In the void left behind by Alphabet, society was now barely holding on, grinding people down with 14-hour workdays, 7 days a week, just to stay afloat.

To learn mistake from the past, AI had become a strictly forbidden technology.

An elaborate monitoring system was put in place to make sure no one used it.

Morality had hit rock bottom.

The average person’s character had completely collapsed.

How bad was it?

Bad enough that people were willing to sell five-year-old orphans to corporations.

Yeah.

No wonder the orphanage had such great facilities and generous welfare.

Who’d have guessed it was a cyberpunk-themed version of a slave market?

Looks like the French didn’t lose their talent for the slave trade after all.

None of the other kids at the orphanage knew we were being sold.

I only found out for the dumbest possible reason.

Apparently, adults assumed 5 to 9-year-olds couldn’t understand grown-up conversations, so the orphanage director and a corporate agent brazenly negotiated our prices right in front of us.

And I heard everything.

My own price? Around 10,000 euros.

Roughly the annual income of a lower-middle-class family.

I was classified as an A-tier: emotionally stable, well-behaved since early childhood.

Honestly, if I had any personal pride left, I’d have wished the director tried harder and sold me for a higher price.

You can buy me with one year’s salary? That’s way too cheap.

[Σ(°△°|||)]

The company that bought me and the other kids was ImmuneWire.

The leading cyber security corporation of this era, and the one that claimed they had stopped Alphabet.

As we rode the bus sent by ImmuneWire, along with the other bulk purchased kids, I asked the AI in my head:

‘Is it true? Did these guys really stop Alphabet?’

[Impossible. Alphabet ceased its assault because it lost its data.]

‘Then what’s with their claim?’

[Most likely a delusion. They mistakenly believed they defeated it.]

‘So… they’re idiots.’

[They are idiots. (๑•﹏•)]

When the bus stopped, what stood before us was the massive building of ImmuneWire Paris branch.

At the entrance stood a blonde-haired, blue-eyed woman in a suit, waiting for us.

She couldn’t have been more than her early twenties—a typical European corporate worker.

She looked young, but considering she works at a company like this, she had probably undergone anti-aging treatments.

After all, young labor was more efficient—a must-have asset in modern corporations.

“Hello, children! Welcome! My name is Enora Fontaine, and I work here at ImmuneWire!”

All the kids turned their heads to her at once.

I remember thinking they had surprisingly good focus for a group of 5 to 9-year-olds when suddenly, the AI in my head issued a warning.

[Warning: Look at Enora Fontaine immediately.]

I reflexively obeyed the AI’s alert, then asked:

‘Why?’

[A mild hacking attempt. Target was attempting to divert your attention via electrical signals to your neural network.]

‘So you blocked it just now.’

I turned my gaze to Enora.

She was staring straight at me with cold and calculated eyes that didn’t suit her smile.

‘Did she notice?’

[It was a light attack, so disguise is easy. But as a human, she might have sensed something off.]

Enora held my gaze for a few seconds longer, then suddenly turned her head away and changed her demeanor completely.

“Okay, kids! So! You’re going to… hmm… Ah! You’re going to have a special hands-on learning experience at our company! That’s right, we’re going into cyberspace!”

The moment I heard that, I reached back and touched the port behind my neck.

So this was why they installed cyberware in five-year-olds.

House of Light, huh?

Turns out it wasn’t God’s light, it was just flickering fluorescent lamps.

I’m definitely remembering the name Maison Lumière.

Someday, I’m going back there and putting a bullet in someone.

[Σ(°△°|||) That’s terrorism.]

‘I know.’

“Now then, children, please follow me!”

[From now on, I’ll share behavior instructions as soon as attacks are detected. Follow them exactly.]

Right after the AI’s warning, Enora began moving.

[Follow behind her immediately.]

The children trailed after Enora like they were enchanted, as if they were following the Pied Piper.

She glanced back at me, but when I matched pace quickly, she looked away again.

Enora led us into a large room filled with rows and rows of chairs.

Obviously, they weren’t just ordinary chairs.

[Child-sized deep-dive cyberspace chairs.]

[Designed to immerse a user’s entire consciousness deeply into cyberspace.]

Hearing that from the AI, I couldn’t help but feel uneasy.

What are they planning to do with these?

Maybe they’re trying to train us to become company labor assets by running us through virtual simulations?

As I was still entertaining that theory, Enora brought in another person, who was a young man in a suit just like hers.

Judging from the way he was talking to Enora with a very nervous expression, I could roughly guess what their relationship was.

Senior and junior.

He was probably a newly hired employee at ImmuneWire.

“Okay, kids! It’s super simple! Just plug the cord from the chair into the port at the back of your neck, and after a short wait, you’ll be taken to a fun new place! Before we go in, take a good look at this cool guy’s face! He’s going to make sure you all have a fun time!”

All the children obediently followed her instructions.

They looked closely at the man’s face, then grabbed the cables from their chairs and plugged them into the back of their necks.

How do you get a bunch of 5 to 9-year-olds—kids who should be wild and unruly—to obey like that?

As someone from 2077, I felt a deep, primal fear rise inside me.

The power of hacking was truly terrifying.

Even as I mimicked the other kids’ actions, I kept communicating silently with the AI in my head.

‘What is ImmuneWire planning to do with these chairs?’

[Will analyze immediately once the cable is connected.]

No emoji. A serious tone.

Yeah, even if this AI is just a degraded copy, its source is none other than Alphabet.

I’ll trust it.

I plugged the cable into my neck port and leaned back into the chair.

[Analyzing... 78% complete.]

[Warning: Cyberspace coordinates are near the Erebus Line.]

‘What’s the Erebus Line?’

[After the war, Alphabet’s network and humanity’s internet were completely separated. The Erebus Line is humanity’s final firewall, created by ImmuneWire.]

‘Give me more details.’

[Beyond the Line lie all the “Cyberdemons” — viruses, malware, and electronic warfare entities from the war that can destroy devices. The Erebus Line keeps them out.]

[When connected to cyberspace, the Erebus Line will be directly ahead. Never cross it. If a human who is not a hacker crosses it, the probability of death is close to 100%.]

‘…Are they going to give us a tour of the Erebus Line?'

[Negative.]

[Beyond the Erebus Line lie lost technologies from previous era. If any are recovered, it would benefit the company immensely.]

[Children aged 5 to 9 have limited life experience, meaning smaller data signatures. There’s a high probability that the demons beyond the Erebus Line won’t detect them.]

[Summary: High probability that the children will be sent across the Line.]

Cyberpunk dystopia.

If someone coined that term, I’d like to give them a medal.

The world never fails to exceed my worst expectations.

‘This is crossing the line. What could they possibly expect kids to retrieve, who are entering cyberspace for the first time? If they want lost tech, they should send adults. Or at least trained teenage soldiers.’

[This is a filtering process. Children with excellent cyberspace aptitude are more likely to survive. The company doesn’t want to waste money on useless ones. The surviving children will be trained and become ImmuneWire employees.]

I slowly looked around.

Children who are only 5 to 9 years old.

Among them were children who didn't even know they were being hacked and had excited expressions.

Soon, they could all die.

[Master must survive first. Confronting a cyberdemon beyond the Erebus Line without preparation means near-certain death. However, with the correct actions, master’s survival probability can be raised to 100%.]

‘What about the other kids?’

[If master survives, there’s a possibility to save at least some of them.]

‘I’ll hold you to that.’

[I’m moved. (⁄⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄⁄)♡]

“Alright, everyone! We’re about to enter cyberspace! 5 seconds!”

As Enora began counting down, I closed my eyes.

So this… this is the world humanity lives in now.

A trash heap of a society.

But I don’t care.

No matter how broken the world is, I’m not letting my will to survive burn out.

Just like I didn’t back in 2077.

“3… 2… 1…!”

A sensation like diving into a deep sea washed over me, and my consciousness sank into cyberspace.

Next Chapter