28. Synesthesia Train
Jinri and I escaped the 56th basement floor, heading for the ground level.
We'd taken the elevator down, but for the return, we chose the escalator.
Having acquired vast wealth, despite our lack of time, the concept of money—mere numbers—felt more valuable than the real currency of time.
Perhaps as the second-richest in Tropical Night City, next to the ranch-owning dealer, we faced temporal poverty yet felt an odd sense of leisure.
Knowing this was dangerous, our urgency waned, and we slowly ascended the 56 floors, taking in the underground world of Tropical Night City.
Before we knew it, we held ice cream cones shimmering like a mix of mercury and aqua regia.
Licking them, our tongue sensors reacted to the cold sweetness, sending a faint thrill of pleasure.
In the underground world, fireworks pierced the night's darkness, weaving a web across the sky.
Their light clashed fiercely with swarms of drones, creating a war-like cacophony. The clamor formed an underground symphony, coloring the night of Tropical Night City.
By the time we'd devoured 335 luxurious ice creams, we finally reached the ground floor.
Emerging from the deafening fireworks and visually overwhelming underground, we returned to the station platform.
The station buzzed with humanoid robots, lively yet calmer compared to the underground's dangerous fervor.
If the surface were consumed by the same heat as below, the city might sink into a Hades-like mirage, lost in an eternal illusion. Perhaps that's why the surface dwellers tempered their nature to maintain balance.
Finally, we secured our train tickets.
We boarded the train.
"The final stop is the southern border," an announcement echoed as Jinri and I settled into our seats.
Thankfully, far from rush hour, the border-bound train was in low demand, nearly empty.
In the comfortable space, we joked about sprawling across the bench but were restrained by our basic programming—the etiquette CPU, akin to a human cerebellum.
Unwilling to abandon our identity as modern robots, we sat properly.
Activating my visual sensors fully, I gazed out the window.
Looking directly was fine, but craving a full view, I used my rear-head sensors too, devouring the panoramic scenery outside as if burning it into memory. Even if I couldn't save it, capturing it mattered—a romantic impulse surging through my actuators.
A fragment of past memory stirred, suggesting that remembering through the body was more poetic than through the CPU.
The train began to move.
The window's view started as a flat, grid-like void, like a blank blueprint. But gradually, content filled the emptiness, as if the world were being generated in real-time. Before I turned my head, the space was nothing, but as I looked, new colors emerged.
First, mountain outlines appeared, traced with gradients as if drawn by a skilled hand. Mountains, invisible in the dark night, were edged in white on a black canvas, layered with vivid fluorescent hues. Trees, grass, and other elements formed with a rich texture.
Shapes unimaginable to my mind materialized as objects in my visual sensors.
Geometric patterns bloomed atop the mountains, morphing into clouds, sky, and sea.
Even in darkness, outlined by visible light, they registered as scenery.
My static assumptions about landscapes gave way to a dynamic, abstract sensation, indescribable in concrete terms, unfolding beyond the window.
As the tracks stretched toward an eternal vanishing point, I immersed myself in the flood of diverse objects, horizons, and visual errors intersecting at the boundary of sky and earth.
Then, I noticed Jinri, sitting close enough to touch, rising to the center of my consciousness.
She never left my side.
Gazing at her as if she were a distant galaxy—vivid yet unreachable, stars twinkling far away—I fixed my eyes on her.
Instinct whispered:
My eyes, capturing Jinri now, must be beautiful.
Unaware of my gaze, she was absorbed in the ever-changing scenery outside. Her memory, perhaps a vast pool like a galaxy, swam in layers of creative sensation.
I felt gratitude that she exposed her beautiful profile without looking at me.
I alone could gaze at it forever.
The enchanting window scenery, sparked by a fragment of revived memory, reminded me—I always loved watching someone admire beauty more than the beauty itself.
That feeling hadn't changed.
And so, it had come to this.
I couldn't live without Jinri.
Perhaps "couldn't live" was an exaggeration, but a certainty grew.
Even if I escaped Tropical Night City and extended my life, whether that could truly be called "safe" was another matter. Without Jinri within arm's reach, I'd return to this dazzling, dark, dizzying night city, reject the sun, and choose death.
Yes, I'd say it aloud.
"To me, Jinri, you are the sun."
My words reached her ears.
Breaking from the spell of the scenery, she turned her gaze to me, staring silently.
Time seemed to pause, as if a freeze button had been pressed.
I couldn't help but place my hands on her shoulders, giving her a gentle shake.
Stars spilled from her eyes.
The collection of stars she'd cherished, hidden deep in her eyes, overflowed, passing through my visual sensors, coursing through my circuits, and pleasantly short-circuiting my CPU.
The shock brought realization.
The beauty of her profile was no longer framed by the city's nightscape.
I had become one of the elements supporting her beauty.
For the first time since my creation—no, though my memories are gone, I'm certain—I deeply felt true emotion on this train.
In that moment, the wildly shifting scenery on both sides of the train reverted to a dark canvas.
As if everything but Jinri and me had returned to nothingness, a surge of creation welled up, as if we alone could spark a new Big Bang.
Together with Jinri, I surrendered to that moment of creation.