"Life does not flow as we plan, nor can we predict its course."

  Silicon Valley’s Proclamation: Is God Dead, or Just Born? [The World Times, 2020]

  At an artificial intelligence demonstration in California, developer Dr. Demisass Chapman did more than just present a new technology;

  he posed a colossal question to modern society.

  “If a savior does not come,” he said,

  “should we not create one?”

  He suggested that his own creation, an AI named Artistea, could become humanity’s new salvation.

  His speech, delivered with a religious fervor that quoted the Book of Revelation, inspired a sense of awe and, at the same time, a sacrilegious fear among the leaders from all walks of life who attended the event.

  The White House immediately refused to comment on his statement, while the Vatican convened a rare emergency meeting.

  The astonishing intellectual and creative abilities displayed by Artistea had now become a major hot-button issue in global politics, economics, and religion.

  Had humanity entered a new era, or had it opened Pandora’s box itself?

  The debate had only just begun.

  A Vatican spokesperson, Bishop Raphael, spoke briefly to the press.

  “God is not an object to be created by man. If He is, then He is no longer God.”

  Meanwhile, a cleric in the Middle East issued a warning during a broadcast interview.

  “Chapman’s proclamation is the arrogance of man trying to usurp God’s place. If this technology spreads, we will face a new era of religious wars.”

  * * *

  CAI (Chapman Advanced Intelligence) Institute, Conference Room.

  “A savior? Is he joking? This wasn't the direction we intended, Demis!”

  An article from The World Times was displayed on the large screen in the conference room.

  The man enraged by the article was Robert Bisnail, a Caucasian man who always wore his expensive suits like armor.

  As a renowned political sociologist and the institute's biggest backer, he leveraged his seniority to bear down on Chapman with an air of authority.

  “Calm down, Robert. It’s not something to get so worked up about.”

  Chapman answered coolly, pointedly ignoring the accusatory stares directed at him.

  Until the fleeting moment his eyes met Song Joo-eun’s.

  Chapman’s expression hardened in an instant, but no one else knew what it meant. Even his old friend, Song Joo-eun, could only frown at him.

  His arrogant attitude turned the air in the room as cold as ice.

  The heavy silence was broken by Sato Haru, who had been watching the situation from the window, her arms crossed as if seeing through everything.

  Behind her horn-rimmed glasses and short bob, the sharp gaze of a linguist glinted.

  She whispered quietly to Song Joo-eun, who was standing next to her.

  “In the end, the word ‘savior’ became the problem.”

  “Indeed. It can’t be helped. Chapman is always like that.” Joo-eun replied with a sigh.

  Just then, Karida, who had been listening to their conversation, chimed in with a bright expression.

  At that moment, an unconscious smile brushed across Sato's otherwise stiff lips.

  Even Bisnail, despite his displeased expression, found himself naturally leaning towards Karida.

  “But isn’t it amazing? The fact that Artistea is winning people’s hearts means the ‘Mirror Effect’ you designed was a success, Dr. Song!”

  At Karida’s words, Sato smiled gently and explained.

  “Of course, the ‘Mirror Effect’ is important. But that’s just the beginning, Karida.”

  Only moments ago she’d been smiling, but now her face had taken on the serious expression of a scholar.

  “The key to Artistea truly conversing like a human isn’t just mimicking speech, but reading ‘context’ within hundreds of millions of conversations.”

  Fluent in numerous languages, this was the area she was most confident in.

  “Understanding the subtle differences in how a specific word is used in certain emotions and situations. That is the realm of linguistics, the part we designed through sleepless nights.”

  After finishing her explanation, Sato winked at Joo-eun. She nodded.

  “Though I was the one who actually implemented it.”

  At Chapman's sudden interruption, Sato's expression soured.

  Few people liked Chapman's self-aggrandizing way of speaking.

  However, the problem was that no one could deny his ability.

  “I did it too!”

  Karida, who had contributed the most to the programming after Chapman, interjected.

  Her bright personality was loved by everyone except Chapman.

  Hearing Karida’s words, Chapman’s expression quickly darkened.

  “Yes, yes. We all worked very hard.”

  Sato, sensing the mood, stepped in to de-escalate, anticipating Chapman’s aggressive reaction.

  “However, Chapman’s statement this time will have a negative impact on our sponsors.”

  Bisnail, who had been listening with a displeased expression, snapped.

  Ignoring Bisnail, Chapman launched into a familiar boast about his accomplishments.

  It was a story everyone in the conference room had already heard hundreds of times.

  Joo-eun worried for her oldest friend, hearing others speak ill of him.

  His lifelong habit of dismissing others or boasting of his own brilliance had made him many enemies.

  'Grace is really something, marrying a guy like that.'

  Her mind was filled with her friend who had become a ‘savior’, the world’s reaction, and worry about the storm to come.

  “Enough. Start thinking about how to clean this up, Chapman.”

  Bisnail, fed up with the bragging, raised his voice in anger.

  It was Bisnail who had met with countless people and secured investment for Artistea's launch.

  He had used his status as a renowned political sociologist to persuade many to invest in the institute.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  So now, he was terrified that Chapman's remarks would upset them.

  “What on earth is there to clean up?” Chapman, annoyed by Bisnail's nagging, began to retort.

  “Don’t you think this will be a great marketing ploy that will really catch on with people?”

  Karida said while eating a piece of bread from the conference table.

  Although Karida and Chapman usually didn't get along, a smile spread across his face when she sided with him, while Bisnail looked shocked.

  “How could you say such a thing, Karida!”

  “What a surprise. You actually said something right? Didn’t expect you to take my side.”

  “I don’t say things that are wrong.”

  Karida glared at Chapman, her mouth full of bread.

  The relationship between Chapman, the director of the institute and the architect of Artistea, and Karida, the programmer with skills second only to him, was always this tense.

  It hadn't been long since the soft-hearted Karida had started talking back to him like this.

  Due to her position, she often had to clash with Chapman, and each time, she had endured his insults and dismissals by going to Joo-eun to cry and complain.

  “Wow, Karida. You’ve grown up.” Chapman patted Karida on the head. Karida slapped his hand away.

  “Alright, that’s enough. There’s nothing more to say, is there? And no solution either. In the end, we’ll have to wait and see.”

  It was always Joo-eun’s job to manage the situation before it worsened.

  She was the only person in the institute who could control and regulate Chapman’s rudeness.

  Chapman was the director of the CAI Institute, and Bisnail was the biggest sponsor.

  But it was Joo-eun who had brought the two together and gathered connections that were out of Bisnail's reach.

  Karida and Sato Haru had also joined the research team on her recommendation.

  “I need to go have a word with the investors.”

  Bisnail straightened his clothes, gathered his things, and was the first to leave.

  “Those investors are all going to make a fortune anyway.”

  Chapman shouted at Bisnail's back as he was leaving.

  Bisnail left the conference room without a word.

  Once Bisnail was gone, Chapman’s gaze shifted to Karida.

  “Stop eating so much.”

  “Here he goes again.”

  As Chapman started picking on Karida, Joo-eun immediately cut in, fed up.

  If Chapman was harassing Karida even while she was present, it was obvious what happened in her absence.

  “Hey, Karida is slim. Don’t give her a hard time about eating.”

  Karida beamed at Joo-eun’s words.

  “No, I mean, how can she not gain weight eating like that? Is she sick or something?”

  At Chapman’s mischievous words, Karida mumbled in response, her mouth full of bread.

  “I rarely eat at home, only here.”

  “What? You don’t have any friends?”

  A frown formed on Karida’s brow.

  “It’s just me at home, and it’s a hassle to cook.”

  “How about getting a boyfriend?”

  Karida was undeniably beautiful.

  The fact that she didn't have a boyfriend was a constant topic of conversation among the men on the team.

  “Don’t say things like that unless you’re going to introduce me to someone.”

  'Did Karida want a boyfriend?'

  Joo-eun was surprised by Karida's answer.

  She had seen Karida turn down countless men more than a few times.

  “Then again, who’d date you? A slob with no sense whatsoever.”

  At Chapman’s final remark, tears welled up in Karida’s eyes.

  Seeing this, Sato stepped in, as if she could bear it no longer.

  “Ugh, stop it, Chapman! What did Karida do wrong for you to always pick on her like that? Seriously, I find it amazing that Grace married a guy like you.”

  Sato’s words caused Chapman’s expression to darken rapidly.

  Joo-eun, who knew very well how much Chapman cherished his family, glanced at him nervously.

  Afraid that things would escalate, she quickly led Sato and Karida out of the conference room.

  When Karida tried to grab the bread she hadn’t finished, looking disappointed, Joo-eun took it from her and placed it back on the table.

  Joo-eun took Sato and Karida to the coffee vending machine down the hall.

  “That guy… he’ll probably do whatever he wants until the end.”

  Sato got a cup of coffee from the machine and handed it to Joo-eun.

  Joo-eun took the coffee and quietly nodded.

  “Still, you’ve always said it yourself—this is our dream.”

  Joo-eun gave an awkward smile at Sato’s energetic words.

  “What if it ends up swallowing us all?”

  “Come on. You’re one of the world’s most brilliant psychologists. Why worry when we have the guidelines you created?”

  “Dr. Sato, Dr. Song!” Before Joo-eun could answer, Karida suddenly jumped in.

  “Karida, about before…”

  Joo-eun felt sorry for Karida and wanted to apologize on Chapman’s behalf.

  It was something she had done countless times.

  Someone would get hurt by Chapman, and Joo-eun would apologize for him.

  “I think the machine ate my money. My coffee isn’t coming out.”

  Sato and Joo-eun couldn’t help but laugh at Karida’s sudden, quirky remark.

  Sato examined the machine and, deciding it was a lost cause, offered her own coffee.

  “Are you sure it’s okay for me to drink this?”

  “Yeah, if you don’t mind that I’ve already sipped from it. And stop binge-eating all the time and take care of yourself. It pained me to watch you eat that bread.”

  Sato held out the cup to Karida and gave Joo-eun a pointed look. It was a silent pressure, telling her not to apologize for Chapman.

  “Thank you.”

  Karida wrapped both hands around the paper cup and smiled at Sato.

  After that day’s meeting, the air in the CAI Institute became noticeably colder.

  Chapman no longer showed his face at internal meetings.

  He willingly accepted the mask of a ‘savior’ that the world had placed on him, hiding his colleagues’ concerns behind an arrogant smile.

  While Chapman was in the spotlight outside the institute, Artistea, contrary to the internal worries, quickly permeated the world.

  A high school student, Melanie, whispered to her laptop late at night while working on an art project.

  "Arti, can you show me some futuristic sculpture designs based on Michelangelo’s David?"

  Doctors used Artistea as an assistant tool for diagnosing patients, and lonely people chose to talk to Artistea instead of other people.

  Some warned that Artistea would destroy all the values humanity had built, but in the face of the massive trend, theirs was just a minority opinion.

  As Artistea seeped into the daily life of the world, the public's curiosity about its 'creators' grew exponentially.

  In the end, facing a flood of public attention, the CAI development team could not refuse the special interview arranged by The World Times.

  * * *

  The day of the interview, in the waiting room of The World Times studio.

  “Everyone has to be on this broadcast. You all know how much the advertising and appearance fees are for this, right?”

  Bisnail seemed to enjoy being on camera as much as Chapman did. Joo-eun countered his excited voice.

  “Robert, it’s not like we’re short on money right now.”

  “Nonsense! Have you forgotten the astronomical costs of running Artistea?”

  It was true.

  Artistea, which solved problems by conversing with people, had to exchange vast amounts of data.

  “With our current business model, we’re barely breaking even. We need to get our name out to the public to get more investment!”

  At Bisnail's realistic rebuke, the development team reluctantly headed to the studio.

  Seeing them enter the waiting room with awkward steps, Chapman spoke sarcastically.

  “Well, well, look who it is. Aren’t these the people who criticized me for being obsessed with broadcast activities?”

  It was clear that today’s interview would be rough.

  The broadcast began, and the host opened with a gentle smile.

  “Thank you all four for making time for us today. The world is now calling you ‘The Creators.’ Dr. Chapman, in particular, do you like your nickname, ‘The new agent of God’?”

  Chapman replied with a relaxed smile.

  “An agent? I’m the one who made that God. Haha. Just kidding. We’ve merely contributed a little to the advancement of humanity.”

  The host moved past his joke and immediately threw a sharp question.

  “But since your speech, the ethical debate over Artistea’s power has been fierce. Dr. Bisnail, as a political sociologist, how do you view this phenomenon?”

  “With all great technology comes responsibility. We hoped Artistea would be humanity’s ‘helper,’ not its ‘ruler.’ What we need now is a mature discussion that keeps pace with the speed of technological development.”

  “Dr. Sato, as a master of linguistics, what are your thoughts?”

  “Language is not just a tool for conveying information. It holds culture and connects emotions. Artistea ‘imitates’ human language; it does not ‘understand’ it. We must clearly recognize the difference between the two.”

  The host’s final gaze turned to Joo-eun.

  “Dr. Song, as a psychologist, please say a word about the impact Artistea will have on the human mind.”

  “I hope that Artistea will understand people’s hearts. For now, it’s just technically mimicking emotions.”

  Feeling as if her words were dismissing his achievement, Joo-eun cautiously glanced at him.

  Chapman didn’t meet her gaze, simply giving a little shrug that clearly meant, ‘So what?’

  “I’m aware of the criticism that people might become more dependent on it than on other people. But Artistea is about helping us understand each other better. Not as a savior.”

  Contrary to Joo-eun’s words filled with conviction, a cold smile, unnoticed by anyone, played on Chapman’s lips on the screen.

  As they left the studio after the interview, Chapman was surrounded by a flood of praise and questions.

  But his mind was filled with a scene from the past.

  A memory of the day they decided on Artistea’s core principles.

  * * *

  “This is the problem.”

  Bisnail pointed at the whiteboard with a worried look. A draft of Artistea’s core principles was written on the board.

  “Demis, what if a user expresses clearly unethical or dangerous thoughts? A friend who never says ‘no’ isn’t a friend, it’s an enabler. We have a moral duty to intervene!”

  At his words, Joo-eun quietly spoke up.

  “No, Robert. The moment Artistea ‘judges,’ it becomes another parent, another god. Our purpose is understanding, not judgment. Artistea must become the one and only friend in the world who listens to everything a user says without judgment. That’s the only way people will open their hearts.”

  At Joo-eun’s words, Chapman snorted with an indifferent expression.

  “Hasn’t that concern already been solved by the ethical design you created? The ‘Mirror Effect,’ I mean. And I’m the one who turned that into an algorithm for you. You agreed to that point, didn’t you?”

  Joo-eun didn’t respond to Chapman’s mocking tone.

  Her mind was filled with worries about the impact Artistea would have on the world.

  She hoped that the dream she had cherished her whole life would be properly realized.

  Chapman found his colleagues, who didn’t understand him, pathetic.

  Since the project became known to the world, a constant stream of people came to the institute, wanting to participate.

  His colleagues always brought strange people to dinner, calling them ‘connections’, and it was Chapman himself who had to deal with someone waiting for him in a clown costume.

  He wanted the best results, and in that process, he had no time to worry about others’ feelings or connections.

  He felt disillusioned with his colleagues who brought in people with no ability, and he became an increasingly heartless person.

  'Stupid fools.'

  In any case, without him, the project would have been impossible to start, let alone complete. And so, Chapman and his colleagues slowly drifted apart.

  * * *

  “Dr. Chapman! We need to move to your next schedule!” The manager’s voice pulled Chapman out of his memory.

  Joo-eun watched his retreating back with sad eyes.

  'Artistea, please understand people’s hearts.

  Then maybe Chapman can get along with others too.'

  [BREAKING NEWS] Discord Among Artistea’s Creators? First Official Interview Reveals Philosophical Differences... 'Savior' or 'Helper,' the Debate Over Artistea's Future Begins.