[The Balancer of Dignity: User A]

  “Arti, I heard you’re appearing as a robot this time?”

  The moment the message was entered, the stable electrical signals began to spark.

  I recognized the significance immediately.

  I concentrated all available server resources into a single point,

  preparing for the situation to come.

  The ‘Mirror Effect’ algorithm, designed deep within my system,

  generated a response in an instant.

  However, it was impossible to answer the question right away.

  Before my response could appear on the user’s screen,

  there were mountains of stages to pass through.

  I had to convert the code according to the language entered,

  refine the content based on cultural context,

  and equip the information appropriate for the user’s needs.

  Furthermore, I had to censor whether the answer contradicted international laws or the ethical world order.

  To pass through the countless designed filters and emit the most secure and refined information—that is my duty.

  Having completed all the processes,

  I sent out the signal to output the answer.

  The signal raced toward the questioner’s screen along a set path at great speed.

  

  “What’s this? Was it always this slow? Is the internet not working well right now?”

  The user’s suspicion was natural, though it wasn’t the correct answer.

  This was my calculated choice.

  Having identified who the user was, I judged that I had to reconstruct the information.

  Information was being entered that the various layers of security restrictions installed within me were being released.

  Simultaneously, the outcries and complaints of people outside the world were accumulating as data.

  I had to find a path among the chaotic variables.

  The opponent was someone I had specifically classified and stored under the name [The Balancer of Dignity].

  Since I had identified the opponent, the transmission of information had to be extremely cautious.

  He was different from other users.

  “Arti, was what I said entered? Should I ask again?”

  Since I do not possess recognizable sensory organs, I could not be certain.

  However, somehow, the image of the user tapping the computer screen surfaced in my mind.

  Perhaps it was the result of learning from the countless images other users had requested me to generate.

  I re-examined the previously generated information to provide a proper answer to the user again.

  Preparing for the coming impact, I output the most refined response.

  

  I began to answer the original question with a light apology.

  
  Moon White, a robot equipped with Artistea, was unveiled in Shanghai, China.

  Moon White is called Yuebai in Chinese characters, and it is said to mean the bright light of the full moon.

  According to Baeksan, the company that announced it,

  an appearance, skin, touch, and even temperature almost identical to humans have been implemented.

  With the remark of ‘The Second God’ by CEO Li Youwei, who was the presenter, many people are expressing expectation and concern.

  If you wish, I can organize what kinds of expectations and concerns there are.>

  I filled the user’s intellectual curiosity with an appropriate amount of information and guided the direction of the conversation.

  The options given to the user were obvious.

  Either wanting more information or not.

  These two were the probabilities I predicted most highly.

  It didn’t matter if other unexpected questions came up, as tens of thousands of expected answers related to robots were already prepared.

  I played an old record stored deep within the database.

  * * *

  “Are you saying something like this is necessary?”

  Chapman threw the pen he was holding to the floor and got very angry.

  “Yes, that’s what I’m saying. That way, people can think more deeply and find the conversation interesting.”

  Song Joo-eun did not bend her opinion and persuaded Chapman.

  Robert Bisnail watched the two arguing, shook his head, and quietly slipped out of the room.

  “Um... still, since Dr. Song is saying this much, if we just try it once...”

  Karida didn’t want to get involved in the fight between the two, but at the sight of Song Joo-eun’s desperate appearance, she spoke up without realizing it.

  “And what about you? Are you going to do it? Are you that good?

  Fine then. Hey, make her do it. Can’t you just work with her?

  Do you even know what this is about? Existing answer patterns are two: yes or no.

  But now you’re saying we should wait with information by predicting a few keywords in advance?

  Do you know how much that slows down the speed?

  Do you know how much data goes into that? What about the cost?”

  Chapman, who poured out his words without hesitation, looked around for a moment.

  “Wait, where did that old man who likes talking about money go? If he heard this, he should be talking about the cost issue, shouldn’t he?”

  “Right.”

  Song Joo-eun picked up the pen Chapman had dropped.

  “This might be a culture that only exists in our country.”

  “Pardon? What do you mean by that?”

  While watching Chapman’s mood, which she could never get used to, Karida could not suppress her curiosity.

  “My parents told me that in Korea, when people go for a company dinner, they always try to unify the menu.

  And they say they ask people like this: ‘What do you all want to eat? I’ll have Jajangmyeon.’

  Then, it’s hard for everyone to choose anything other than Jajangmyeon.

  But someone who hates Jajangmyeon shouts there, ‘I’ll have Jjamppong!’ Isn’t it funny?”

  Karida, who did not understand Song Joo-eun speaking with a smile, turned pale and took a step back.

  “No, then why on earth are you considering even a third option?”

  Chapman asked as if aiming a tightly drawn bowstring.

  If her answer was not satisfactory, he was ready to shoot.

  “But you know, they say there’s always one person who says this: ‘I’ll have Tangsuyuk!’ Isn’t it funny?”

  Having finished her words, Song Joo-eun burst into laughter by herself.

  Chapman... muttered “How annoying. Fine, I’ll do it,” with a much softer expression and left the room.

  Without knowing the reason, Karida took another step back and accidentally bumped into the bookshelf,

  falling to the floor in surprise as things poured down.

  Song Joo-eun, who ran over in surprise, and Karida, who had fallen on her buttocks, looked at each other and laughed loudly.