September 17th.
"Have you ever heard of the Millennium Bug incident?"
Chiaki set down her keyboard and mouse, asking the question out of the blue.
"..."
"When the Gregorian calendar transitioned from 1999 to 2000, the computer systems of the time, which used two-digit decimal numbers to represent years, were unable to perform cross-century date calculations. This resulted in errors, leading to global functional disorders and system crashes. It was called the Millennium Bug—though, in reality, it never truly happened."
"Whether it was strictly guarded against or its dangers were exaggerated, in the end, the Millennium Bug didn't cause a major disaster. It's hard to even call it a disaster; it was truly just an error, a 'bug' and nothing more."
"After hearing about the Millennium Bug, I've been wondering: if humanity encountered an event that exceeded its own cognition—something like the transition from 1999 to 2000—would a 'BUG' similar to the Millennium Bug appear in humans as well?"
"Humans won't go mad just by seeing the number 1999 turn into 2000. But when they constantly repeat the year 1999, treating a single year as a cycle, experiencing dozens or even hundreds of cycles over and over... would a human 'Millennium Bug' emerge?"
"It's a question worth exploring."
Lin set down the pistol he had polished to a shine and glanced at her sideways. "Even if they experienced 1999 repeatedly, human subjective initiative wouldn't allow every year to repeat the same events. Humans aren't machines, so your hypothesis doesn't hold."
"Is that so? Why do I feel that humans are actually just like that?"
Chiaki's smile looked exceptionally ethereal against the fluorescent glow of the screen.
"No two leaves in the world are exactly alike, but leaves of the same species don't differ much in appearance. Humans are the same; though everyone seems to have different thoughts, in reality, they are just a group of 'different leaves.'"
"For instance, most people, when faced with 'self-interest' and 'altruism,' will choose self-interest. Even the methods they use are almost the same."
"Humans are just slightly more advanced machines. Computers operate according to 'programs,' while humans operate through 'philosophies' and 'thoughts.' By comparison, the difference between the two isn't so great that they can't be linked together."
"...Why are you telling me this?"
"Haha, just a sudden feeling, I suppose. After all, you probably can't imagine what a truly 'ordinary' life looks like."
Chiaki smiled and spread her hands in a defenseless gesture. "Even if I don't say it, you understand. Your personality, your experiences, and your appearance make you the most 'special' type among the masses, which is why you intentionally hide yourself."
"..."
"Silent again? Right, after all, that's just who 'Lin' is. The silent, iceberg-like man—that's your trademark."
Chiaki smiled innocently.
"Speaking of which, hasn't Kevin 'found' the clues in Einstein's room yet? Should we go investigate?"
Unchanging... unchanging... unchanging...
These four words filled her life. When she first realized it, it made her filled with hatred; now, she couldn't even manage that emotion. All that remained was numbness.
When did she first discover that she was actually no different from anyone else?
Was it when she realized that although she was good-looking, she would occasionally see someone more beautiful? When her grades were good, but it was difficult to surpass those who were truly at the top? When her family conditions were good, but she constantly saw wealthier people passing by?
She was indeed "good," but it was limited to just being "good."
What would her life look like next? A graduation she could see the end of, a job, overtime? Then, like her parents, finding a "good" partner to marry, repeating their "good" life, giving birth to a "good" child, and watching that child repeat her own life?
It made her stomach churn with nausea, making her want to vomit up bile.
One should accept their own mediocrity—but she couldn't.
There are seven billion humans in this world. Perhaps 90% lived much worse than her, but she didn't want to live out her days peacefully because of that.
She wanted to be the unique one.
Such a rebellious thought had long ago taken root in her heart, growing into a massive desire alongside a life that never changed. Finally, one day, she took a tentative first step.
No matter what it was, she wanted to be different from others.
She didn't want day after day of the same thing; she didn't want to play the same person in an infinite loop of time. She wanted to become different people—someone who could turn into someone entirely different at any moment.
She was the "bug" born from an error within the giant machine known as the world.
She was the error itself.
And so, she began to play different roles: the obedient daughter in front of her parents, the arrogant girl in front of her classmates, the indifferent student in front of strangers, the cheerful girl in front of her teachers...
She found that her exquisite acting skills didn't negatively impact her daily life; instead, they made her more like a fish in water. But this was far from enough. A little bit of "specialness" in the face of all this "mediocrity" was not enough to satisfy the swelling desire in her heart.
One day, she came into contact with the dark side of the internet. It was only then that she discovered the human world could be so interesting.
People who seemed boring and cookie-cutter in reality could put on masks on the internet, doing crazy, deceptive, and hypocritical things. They could be worshipped just like in reality, and here, no one cared about your identity.
This was the special place. From that moment on, she decided to become a resident of "this place," beginning to frantically study hacking techniques and knowledge.
She was right; she truly was the person most suited for this place, because her talent for the profession of hacking was that of a once-in-an-age genius.
Playing different people in reality and online, commanding the wind and rain on the internet, she became more and more famous, yet she was still unsatisfied.
Of course, she thought of a way to satisfy herself.
On an ordinary night, a "person" disappeared from the world. Her birth certificate, household registration, family relationships, educational background—every piece of data that could prove she had ever existed was erased. After leaving behind a large sum of money obtained through underground internet industries, she left her home.
No—she left the "surface world."
One person died; a hacker was born.
With that, she completed the most special link of a person's life: she killed herself and then created herself.
A person who craves "uniqueness" is not in the wrong, and she was merely one of them, wasn't she?