Port Alexandra City Hall, Mayor's Office
This was the power center of the entire city. A massive gear-shaped chandelier hung beneath the domed ceiling, and sunlight filtering through stained glass windows cast solemn shades of gold and crimson over the mahogany desk and the towering piles of documents. The air was filled with the scent of aged paper, premium ink, and a faint trace of machine oil—a scent unique to this city, a fusion of power and machinery.
Victoria stood before the desk, holding a report on next quarter's public infrastructure maintenance budget, her expression solemn. Seated behind the desk was Mary, the current president of the Municipal Administrative Association and the city's de facto ruler.
Mary didn't fit the image of a traditional iron-fisted politician. Impeccably groomed, she looked barely over thirty, wearing a sharply tailored silk suit with a golden gear-shaped emblem—the symbol of supreme authority—pinned to her chest. Her long fingers idly tapped on the desk, seemingly distracted from Victoria's report.
"...Regarding the aging steam pipelines in the East District, the engineering department recommends a full replacement, but that would require tapping into the special reserve fund..."
"Then replace them," Mary waved her hand, cutting her off. "As long as the operation of those key factories isn't affected, the budget isn't an issue."
At that moment, the heavy oak door was suddenly flung open.
Bang!
With a burst of urgent footsteps, a small figure stormed into the room like a cannonball, the gust of wind she stirred up even scattering some of the papers on the desk.
"Mayor sis! Wait a sec!"
Victoria turned around in surprise and froze for a moment when she saw the breathless, dust-covered girl clutching half a chocolate bar in her hand.
"Veronica? What happened to you? Did Detective Frank run into trouble?"
Panting heavily, Veronica didn't even have time to salute. She bent over with her hands on her knees, gasping for several seconds before raising her head, her eyes flashing with urgency.
"Of course he did! Big trouble! Listen to me, Victoria sis, and you too, Mayor sis!" Veronica gulped down her chocolate and spoke at lightning speed. "We followed the kidnapper's trail westward. Even though the scent was masked by those filthy sewers, I still caught it! And we found their base right in the middle of a sulfur lake!"
"A sulfur lake?" Mary finally looked up, frowning slightly.
"That's right! The whole lake is full of poisonous gas! Smells like rotten eggs—you can't even breathe near it!" Veronica waved her arms to emphasize, "Frank said there's a high concentration of hydrogen sulfide. No protective gear, no passage. It's a dead zone!"
Mary was silent for a moment, her fingers ceasing their tapping. She stood up and walked to the large floor-to-ceiling window, gazing westward toward the skyline.
"Near the Alaman volcanic region, then?" she murmured to herself, a cold smile curling her lips. "Heh... Only someone whose records have been 'erased' would hide in such a hellish place. Fits his twisted sense of aesthetics."
She turned around, pulled open a drawer, and swiftly signed and stamped two sheets of parchment bearing special emblems.
"Little girl, you're Veronica, right?" Mary handed her the sheets, her tone brisk and commanding. "Take this one to Commander Senis at the Reserve Command Center—it's an order to deploy troops. And this one is for Director Lavao of the City Equipment Division. Tell him that whether it's gas masks, oxygen tanks, or hovercrafts for swamp terrain, everything must be of the highest grade."
Veronica's eyes lit up, and she snatched the documents: "Whoa! That's awesome! Thanks a million! Mayor sis, you rock!"
"They'll get you the manpower and gear you need. Now go. Don't keep your detective friend waiting."
"Got it! I'm off!" Veronica spun around and dashed off like a gust of wind, waving as she reached the door. "Bye-bye, President sis! Bye-bye, Victoria sis!"
Watching the girl vanish, Victoria sighed softly. But when she turned back to face Mary, a flicker of suspicion crossed her eyes.
"Ha, such an energetic child," Mary said as she sat back down and sipped her tea, seemingly more relaxed.
"But..."
A magnetic yet slightly glib male voice suddenly rang out from the doorway, interrupting the quiet.
"As the technological leader of this science-driven city, you're not planning to dispatch your proud robot forces to solve this crisis, President Mary?"
Mary's hand paused. Victoria sharply turned her head and saw Giovanni leaning against the doorframe, spinning his flamboyant captain's hat in his hand, his signature mocking smile plastered on his face. Standing behind him was a tall figure encased in silver metal—Tin Man.
"So you've finally come, Giovanni, our newest honorary member." Mary set down her teacup, her voice tinged with sarcasm. "So leisurely. Aren't you at all worried about your crewmate? That kid Arran—isn't he your mechanic?"
"As long as this city's security system is as reliable as advertised—then I've got nothing to worry about," Giovanni shrugged, striding into the office like it was his backyard. "After all, this is a city that prides itself on 'perfect order,' isn't it?"
Mary narrowed her eyes. "Tch. Enough games. What do you really want? Spit it out."
"Is that your way of pretending you don't already know?" Giovanni leaned on the desk, peering at her with unusually sharp eyes. "Fine. Then let me pretend not to know either."
"Madam President, I'm sure both you and the Library Director have considered certain... complications. Otherwise, why deploy 'real humans' from the reserves just to arrest a few criminals hiding in a toxic lake?"
His voice dropped, laced with scrutiny.
"Wasn't your winning campaign strategy twenty years ago all about leveraging AI superiority for reform? Advocating to 'let machines take the risk' in order to protect both service providers and recipients from high-risk jobs? That's always been your political brand."
He stared directly at Mary, pressing harder.
"And even setting aside the risk to these 'real humans'—they haven't seen combat in years. Can these pampered soldiers really outperform tireless, gas-proof robots? Why do you believe deploying them is the only secure way to resolve this kidnapping case?"
Silence fell over the office.
Victoria stood to the side, brows tightly knit. She shared the same doubts. Logically, fully sealed combat robots were the optimal choice for a sulfur lake environment.
"...Giovanni," Victoria broke the silence. "You didn't regroup with Frank. You came straight to us. If you have insights, just speak plainly."
Mary scoffed, "This isn't a theater. We don't need your dramatic riddles."
"Haha, no problem." Giovanni straightened up and stepped back, gesturing with a theatrical flourish. "Then let's hand the floor to the most authoritative expert here, shall we?"
He looked at the silver figure behind him.
Tin Man stepped forward, his heavy, steady footsteps ringing sharply on the floor. His emotionless optical sensors scanned everyone in the room before locking onto Mary.
"Wisdom isn't always about noticing what others miss—it's about extracting new insights from what everyone takes for granted."
His voice was flat and mechanical, like something out of an old radio, yet carried an uncanny weight.
"Call me Tin Man. A traveler from the Abyssal Plane."
"Plane traveler?" Mary raised a brow, amused. "And what exactly are you? No—what is it you're claiming to be?"
"Human," Tin Man replied instantly, absurdly. "More precisely, a mimetic organism severed from strong causal coupling with this reality. Though now I rely on this shell of iron... you can think of me as a ghost, migrated from another world."
Mary and Victoria exchanged glances, clearly skeptical.
Tin Man didn't care. He raised his metal palm and revealed a thumb-sized chip glowing faintly blue.
"Recognize this?"
Mary glanced at it coolly. "Of course. That's a component stripped from one of our robots. Part of the core control unit."
"Indeed." Tin Man closed his hand. "But what about what's known in this city's urban legends as the 'Philosopher's Stone'? The so-called 'cosmic cube' that grants all robots their intelligence?"
Mary's face briefly changed but quickly returned to her usual nonchalance. "Pfft. And here I thought you had something real. Philosopher's Stone? Alchemy nonsense. Urban myths. People also say I'm already dead and this is just a robot clone. Should I take that seriously too?"
Leaning back in her chair, she sneered. "Street rumors aren't exactly compelling currency."
"You're right, most urban legends are absurd. The Philosopher's Stone is just another ancient myth," Tin Man agreed. "But we all know this: Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic. Drop a chemist into the Stone Age, let them run a few tests—they'd be worshipped as a shaman."
Mary tapped her fingers on the desk, clearly impatient. "What's your point? If you're here to tell stories, the children's section of the Great Library is down the hall."
"Oh, this is just a lead-in to the real story."
Tin Man's eyes flickered, as if searching a long-lost database.
"It's a fairy tale called 'The Prince.' The prince came from a now-ruined nation, another plane of existence. When disaster struck, he prayed to the sky, and the sky responded—ten weapons of power descended to him."
The room fell silent, as if even the dust had frozen. Tin Man's voice, though uninflected, held an inescapable pull.
Each weapon had "unimaginable power." One offered near-infinite energy. Another analyzed all incoming information, boasting immense processing capacity. The prince wielded the ten weapons, defeated the demon king, and founded a new kingdom.
He paused, then stared daggers into Mary.
"And the most promising weapon... was the one that processed information."
"I've studied your city in depth." He turned to the window, pointing toward the smog-wreathed skyline. "Your engines are combustion-based. Your computers use vacuum tubes. To me, there's nothing extraordinary in this city's resources—nothing beyond 21st-century industrial capabilities."
"Yet you have robot police, robot butlers, robot tour guides. Your robots are intelligent—able to think, solve problems. This is true AI. I bet they'd pass the Turing test easily."
Tin Man's tone sharpened.
"That's incredible... but also suspicious."
"Everyone knows simulating neurons with standard electronic components is power-intensive. Yet the human brain functions on the energy of three meals a day. Why? Because the body builds and maintains it in a uniquely efficient way."
He traced a brain's outline in the air with his finger.
"If each neuron were a nanobot, recording information via structure rather than electromagnetism... and could self-replicate through cell division... then yes, that's brilliant."
"But replicating a human brain—arguably the most complex autonomous system of the century—shouldn't be possible using just tubes and engines. A single brain has over a hundred million synaptic connections. Simulating that with tubes would take dozens of nuclear power plants, even ignoring heat and size constraints."
Tin Man stepped closer.
"From that angle, the idea that your city has real AI is absurd. Like building the internet with an abacus. Or using a steam engine to power a warp drive."
"Yet here it is."
"And if you dissect your discarded robots, you'll find they're hollow. Just remote terminals. No complex processors inside."
His voice turned icy.
"So I must ask: what lies behind all these terminals? Who or what is the 'central brain' controlling everything in this city?"
"Day and night, it mimics thousands of human minds, managing every automation system. So ask yourselves—what kind of cheating makes this possible?"
He stared at Mary's increasingly rigid face.
"If that can be explained as mere 'technological explosion,' then perhaps a tribal shaman could build a spaceship by divine inspiration."
Silence.
Victoria was stunned. She turned to Mary. As Director of the Great Library, she'd always believed the robots' core tech was a tightly sealed black box—but had never questioned its physical feasibility.
Mary's expression was thunderous. Her hand clenched the teacup so tightly her knuckles turned white.
"...Mock us however you want," she said through gritted teeth, "but as President of the Municipal Association, I do not consider this city's development deformed or unethical. Whether it's magic or tech—if it benefits the people—"
"I understand completely," Tin Man cut in. His voice carried not mockery, but the sorrow and warning of someone who had lived it.
"Because I once worked at such an institution. We thought mastering that 'weapon' meant mastering the future."
He turned, facing the window, looking out over a city built on miracles and lies.
"That's exactly why I must explain—borrowed technology always hides unforeseen flaws."
"For instance... security."