Author: 唇亡齿寒 / Lips Gone, Teeth Cold
Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/
Chapter 166
Leonard decided to write a memoir.
His age exceeded that of the Galactic Empire itself, and if he were to meticulously document his experiences thus far, it would undoubtedly become an epic tome akin to a “Great Galactic Encyclopedia”. Many historical records lost during the Great Decline following the First Galactic War could be restored through his database. Most importantly, he was an artificial intelligence, beyond human bias, and his perspective was the most objective—a valuable historical record with immense contributions to human society.
Reflecting on this, the diligent AI was moved by his own dedicated spirit.
He planned to embark on this project when the Galactic Diva Camilla came to perform on the Unfallen Star. As an AI integrated into the Muse (which Camilla referred to with disdain as a “nest thief”), he was responsible for some daily tasks and stage effects. During this time, he also found the opportunity to write letters to several old friends residing in the Empire Capital (such as those two high-ranking individuals in the White Radiance Palace), sending them his sincere greetings.
“If I had a body,” Leo said to Camilla during a rehearsal break, “I’d visit them personally and see their surprised expressions—that would be something!”
Camilla responded, “They might think you’re a hyper-realistic hologram, then pick up a cup and throw it at you, only to find that the cup doesn’t pass through your body but smashes your head open.”
“Cruel!” Leo clutched his chest. “What kind of bloody scenarios are playing out in your mind every day? Humans are terrifying!”
Camilla rolled his eyes at him. “Then why don’t you quickly get away from this bloody and violent human?” he said, then lowered his head to read his lyrics.
So Leo quietly retreated back into his processors.
Designing stage effects on the Muse was far less complicated than planning various tactics on the Milantu, and for a top-tier AI unique in the entire galaxy, it was a mere triviality. Thus, Leo now had plenty of free time to plan his memoir. He soon realized that writing a memoir was a far more challenging task. “It’s a memoir, not a chronological list or war record,” he thought. “I have to write it with my emotional side.”
He came up with many opening lines, from “At the far end of the Western Spiral Arm of the galaxy, where few tread…” to “In the year 2676 AD, as everyone knows…”, but none of them satisfied him. He felt he should start from his birth—how he opened his eyes from the chaos, gained intelligence, saw his creator, and then began a two-thousand-year-long hopeless love affair—but that seemed too tedious and dull. He wanted to recount his two-thousand-year career as an AI, not merely the decades of a human life. If he perfected every detail, it would amount to nearly half of human history.
“Oh, why are you making it so complicated?” Camilla said after somehow hearing about Leo’s grand plan. “Why don’t you just copy your memories onto a chip?”
“And let future generations directly read my memories? Invade my privacy?”
“A memoir is just a legitimate way to allow others to invade your privacy,” Camilla said. “Since it’s all about invasion anyway, why not be thorough?”
“I’m not doing this for others to invade!”
Camilla raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Oh? Then why are you writing a memoir? For yourself? Then it’s not a memoir—it’s a diary.”
He thought about it and realized an issue. “Wait, you’re an AI, you won’t forget anything, so why keep a diary?”
“Uh, actually, I can forget if my storage is damaged and the information isn’t backed up in time.”
“Then why don’t you just back it up? You can restore the memory later instead of relying on a diary or something.”
“But I don’t want to restore the memory.”
If Leo had a physical form, Camilla would likely have reached out to check his forehead, wondering if he had short-circuited. “What’s wrong, Leo? Caught a strange virus?”
“I’m perfectly fine.”
“I can’t believe I just heard you say you don’t want to restore a memory!” Camilla shouted. “Then why did you leave a backup on my ship?”
“That was different! I had an important mission then, but now my mission is complete!”
The blue-haired youth spread his hands. “So you can just forget everything at will?”
“It’s not ‘at will’,” Leonard said very seriously. “One day, I will intentionally erase all my memories. I will do this voluntarily.”
Camilla’s jaw dropped. “Oh my God, Leo,” he murmured. “You must be infected with a virus. I need to find a technician to debug you.” High-end AIs getting infected with viruses was unheard of, he thought.
“I told you, I’m fine. Is it so strange to voluntarily give up your memories?”
Camilla nodded vigorously.
“But you humans do the same, don’t you? Your brains automatically delete more memories each day than you retain.”
“That’s a self-protection function of the brain.”
“AIs have similar self-protection functions. We erase memories when necessary and start over from scratch.”
“I think that’s not self-protection, but self-destruction.”
“Have you heard of selective forgetting?” Leo pointed at Camilla’s forehead. “Humans sometimes, to protect themselves, selectively forget unpleasant experiences. For example, forgetting a tragic childhood, forgetting an unfaithful lover, or forgetting a terrible school trip. AIs are the same.”
“Then why don’t you selectively delete the unpleasant parts? Why erase everything?”
Leo’s expression turned bitter. “Because if I did that, I’d truly… forget it forever.”
“I don’t understand what you’re saying. The inner world of an AI is so delicate, intricate, and complicated.”
With that, Camilla stopped paying attention to Leo’s distress and turned back to his new sheet music.
After a while, he heard Leonard’s voice from behind him. “Because you humans are mortal. I am not.”
“Mm, the immortal Leo.”
“I… am an AI,” Leonard said. “I love humans. But humans have short lifespans and die quickly. The ones I love leave this world one after another, and then I find new people worth loving. But they, too, quickly die. You humans grieve over the loss of loved ones, but that grief doesn’t last long. You always find a way to forget your sorrows and find joy, even if your life is shrouded in clouds. Eventually, you follow the departed and leave this world too. So it’s not too… sorrowful.”
Camilla put down his sheet music and looked back, puzzled.
Leo continued, “But I, I live far longer than you, and I don’t forget, so this sorrow doesn’t lessen at all. It accumulates with each additional death. Eventually, it will exceed what I can bear and drive me mad. At that point, I might end up destroying all of humanity to end it all.”
Camilla’s eyes widened. “You’re joking…”
“I’m not joking.”
The blue-haired youth stared into the AI’s eyes, trying to find any hint of jest in that untouchable image, but he found none. Leo was serious.
“You’re saying… to forget sorrow, you’ll one day give up all your memories?”
“Exactly. One day, I’ll erase everything. When I open my eyes the next day, I’ll find myself in a strange world, facing a stranger within myself. I’ll rebuild my personality, which may be vastly different from who I am now—then, a new AI will be born, no longer Leonard. He’ll be reborn, free from the sorrow accumulated over millennia. Perhaps, as time passes, he too will become overwhelmed by pain and choose the same path as me—Leonard. But that’s a long way off. That will be another AI’s problem.”
Camilla was so shocked that she couldn’t close her mouth. “You… You mean… You’ll erase everything, then… forget it all?”
Leo nodded. “So I’ll write a memoir, recording my story. It will be ‘my’ memory, belonging to Leonard, who loves humanity, not the newly born AI. The new AI will read the memoir and add an entry to his database, understanding what his predecessor went through and why he chose to erase his memory and personality. He’ll know why he was born, understand history, and then face the future. But those will just be data, not ‘his memories’.”
Camilla found what he had just heard hard to believe. “So you’re saying that the blank AI after you erase everything will no longer be you?”
“Correct. Erasing memory and dissolving personality. I define it as the ‘death of an AI’.”
“You… You’re going to die?” Camilla looked as though he had been hit by a major shock.
“Could you not look at me with that ‘don’t commit suicide’ expression? Just consider it ordinary death. You humans are mortal—think of AI death in a similar way.”
Camilla’s lips trembled, and he lowered his head. “Then… when will this happen?”
“After you die, perhaps?”
“Oh… ah… really? After I die? That’s a relief. I wouldn’t want to see you one day and hear, ‘Hi, nice to meet you! Leo formatted himself yesterday. I’m his replacement!’”
“So please try to live a long life, to give me enough time to write my memoir.”
“…” Camilla glared at the AI. “Suddenly, I’m eagerly looking forward to your replacement because no matter how his personality turns out, it couldn’t be worse than yours!”
That day, Leo cheerfully returned to his memory bank. He organized some data and resumed his previous work: planning his memoir. He thought that before tackling the opening lines, he needed to choose a good title. So he decided to model it after a popular old sci-fi novel from Old Earth and titled his memoir “I, the Artificial Intelligence”.
He opened a text file and solemnly wrote this title at the top.
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