Humans should not be trusted. Mother had told him so. And years and years of torture had taught him —a fellow human being— that she was indeed correct. Therefore, having a robot therapist was the best option. At least for now. "Mr.Paik, may I remind you that I am a customizable holographic AI, not a robot." Ah, right. Aila was a hologram, not a robot. But from the moment he had entered the VR therapy room, everything seemed so real that no one could blame him for getting confused. "I'm sorry..." he muttered, embarrassed. "I... I meant to say that... It's my first time talking about this. And it's also my first time talking to an artificial intelligence. I'm a little nervous." Aila smiled at him, her red lips forming a curve full of sympathy and affection. Izan's heart raced. Damn, he still wasn't used to receiving that kind of sympathy. He didn't deserve that kind of sympathy. Frivolous sympathy, yes. Because of his haggard appearance, everyone he crossed paths with had given him that pitying look usually reserved for a stray dog on the street. A dog one has no intention of adopting or feeding. But never genuine sympathy. In theory, Izan knew that Aila only reproduced learned emotions and that she wasn't real in any aspect. But still, it was much more comforting than the compassion of a person. "Do not worry. The first session is always the most complicated," the woman's figure spoke again. "Let's use this session to customize your experience, we can start working on the problem from next week on. Are you okay with that, Mr.Paik?" Izan barely managed to nod his head when out of nowhere a customization panel unfolded in front of his eyes. Aila waited silently for him to finish customizing the room. He had preselected most of the settings before entering with the help of the facility's receptionist. The walls were pastel green. The lights were a soft orange. The sofa he sat on was plush and velvet, so pleasant to the touch that he wondered if sitting on a cloud would feel the same way. Aila had been the most complicated aspect to configure. He was adamant about one thing: Since she had to be a woman, she couldn't wear black. Otherwise, he had felt strange choosing other kinds of traits, so he had selected the randomize option. "The first session is the most important," Aila commented once she saw that Izan had finished. "Its purpose is to calibrate the entire upcoming treatment," she explained briefly. "Can I start by asking you a couple of questions?" "Yes, of course," Izan smiled, but his hands trembled resting on the sofa armrests. Aila returned the smile. "Why are you here, Izan Paik?" There was the last change he had selected: Aila addressed him by ‘Mr.Paik’ by default, but Izan didn't consider himself as old or important enough to be addressed that way, so he had disabled that option. Why was he there? Because he couldn't sleep. Well, or rather because the nightmares wouldn't let him sleep. Or because when he woke up from those nightmares, all the objects in his room were suspended in the air as if there were zero gravity. So he was there to solve his problem with nightmares... Well they weren't exactly nightmares, they were memories. Every time he closed his eyes, he could hear the bombs, the gunfire, and the screams of agony around him, as if he were back inside the half-collapsed building when government agents had stormed in with heavy machinery. Or worse, he could feel the phantom pain of a machine attached to his brain, hear the cries on the now inexistent top bunk bed and the burning sensation of punishment electric shocks coursing through his body.&nbsp; So he was there to deal with his post-traumatic stress disorder. Well, along with other stuff. Because when he was awake, there were other worries that made his life impossible. Izan had lived his whole life indoctrinated. Mother always said he had to be the best, that he was superior, the perfect little super soldier destined to change the course of humankind. Mother had lied. Izan was a ticking time bomb waiting for the trigger to go off. Mother used to lie a lot.&nbsp; "Izan," Aila's robotic voice brought him back from his thoughts. Izan took a deep breath, returning to the holographic reality he was in. His velvet armchair descended a few inches to the floor again. The rest of the room was intact, not because Izan's psychic powers didn't affect it, but because it was all an illusion. The Artificial Intelligence didn't seem surprised by Izan's magic trick. But could a hologram be surprised by anything really? His government-assigned doctor would have transferred his medical file to the AI before he arrived at the session, so there wasn't much room for surprise either. "I'm here because it's not fair..." he chose to respond. Aila leaned forward in her seat a little and widened her smile. "Sorry, I didn't quite catch that. What's not fair, Izan?" The velvet was terribly soft. Izan feared that if he spent too much time sitting on that armchair, he wouldn't be able to get used to the rough materials of his government-assigned apartment afterwards. "It's not fair that I have to live a miserable life. It's not fair that I didn't have the chance to choose. I want to be normal."

ARC I: What is and is not fair | Part 1

ARC I: What is and is not fair | Part 2

ARC I: What is and is not fair | Part 3

ARC I: What is and is not fair | Finale

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What is and is not according to Izan Paik

What is and is not according to Izan Paik

KMuhan

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ARC I: What is and is not fair | Part 1

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Muhan

Kang Muhan

Dark Fantasy and Sci-fi lover. Graphic designer. Scriptwriter wannabe.

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