Chapter Fifty-Three: Name... What Is That?

As Zhuang Xiaoyuan let her mind wander, speculating about the hints revealed by the first phase of her mission, the two had already left the high-tech chamber behind. When the towering steel automatic doors sensed their approach, they slid open, revealing the view beyond in an instant.

Outside was a vast, cerulean sky, its expanse broken only by distant figures—girls with slight variations in their mechanical attire—flying up and down through the air. Beneath that blue, clusters of pure white, futuristic buildings stood, their architecture radiating an aura of advanced technology, as though from another time.

Directly ahead of Zhuang Xiaoyuan and the 10-4 mechanical girl lay a sizable rubber playground; clearly, this was the place where Xiaoyuan would soon learn to fly. The mechanical girl led the way, and their destination was unmistakable.

Efficiency truly defined this world—no sooner had they mentioned teaching flight than the lesson was to begin, without even allowing a bite to eat. But... did mechanical girls require food? Surely it would be something like steel, or oil. Imagining the taste of such things, Xiaoyuan felt cold sweat prickling her skin.

“We’re here. Let’s begin,” said the mechanical girl, turning to face Xiaoyuan at the center of the playground, her expression as blank as ever. Xiaoyuan, seeing her instructor stop and speak, cooperated by halting, earnest and attentive.

Silence fell across the playground. The two stood motionless, eyes locked.

“Um, Instructor, what should I do?” Unable to bear 10-4’s icy gaze any longer, Xiaoyuan timidly raised her right hand and asked in a small voice. She wondered if she’d gotten herself into trouble again—was there something wrong? Surely she wouldn’t need to call for repairs again...

“...Number 99-0. Is there no basic operational data in your chip?” The mechanical girl finally spoke, and thankfully, it wasn’t Xiaoyuan’s worst fear—calling for repairs.

“Basic operational data... What is that?” Xiaoyuan understood the word “chip,” and, knowing now that this was a world of mechanical girls, she automatically equated it with the human brain. She carefully searched her mind, but found nothing extra—there was indeed no such data present.

“Well, there’s no helping it. We’ll start from the basics,” 10-4 said, her tone shifting for the first time, letting out a clear sigh. It seemed even this mechanical girl found Xiaoyuan’s inexperience exasperating.

“Number 99-0…”

“Instructor, could you not call me 99-0? It sounds so awkward. I have a name—if possible, please call me Xiaoyuan.” Having been addressed as 99-0 repeatedly, Xiaoyuan couldn’t stand it any longer and interrupted, introducing herself.

“A name. What is that?” Tilting her head in confusion, 10-4 found this prototype zero unit before her increasingly peculiar. She felt that Xiaoyuan was somehow different from the others.

Come to think of it, what ability was this prototype supposed to be testing? The question surfaced in 10-4’s mind, and, determined to resolve it, she began searching for information. In her pale blue eyes, countless zeros and ones flickered rapidly.

Connecting to the main data repository... querying... search complete. Number 99-0. Ninety-ninth research experiment, prototype zero unit. Experimental objective: simulation of the emotional module of ancient life—“human”—through installation and testing.

According to historical records, emotion—a biological instinct—when triggered, could dramatically enhance physical capabilities, unleashing double one’s combat potential. Yet, it also carried risks: such bursts could lead to weakened abilities, even a total loss of fighting capacity.

“A name... What is it? How should I explain? Is it a kind of code? That doesn’t seem right. Does having a name mean possessing a unique personality? Hmm, that doesn’t quite fit either. What is a name, really?” The mechanical girl’s counter-question sent Xiaoyuan into a quandary. Lost in thought, she failed to notice her instructor’s unusual state—the pronounced display of binary code, so unlike anything human.

Who would waste time pondering what a name is? Everyone receives one at birth. Enough, she thought, ruffling her hair in frustration and abandoning the dilemma. Straightening her expression, Xiaoyuan addressed the mechanical girl earnestly, “A name is nothing in itself, but every being with a unique personality must have a name. Instructor, what is your name?”

Disconnecting from the main repository and returning her focus, the mechanical girl heard Xiaoyuan’s question. Her expression didn’t change, but a hint of confusion flickered in her pale blue eyes. “My name is 10-4.”

After a brief hesitation, she reported her name. Though she sensed that a name should be different from a code, saying it out loud felt oddly uncomfortable. Still, she rationally suppressed the unfamiliar sensation and gave her designation.

“10-4? That’s more like a code than a name. Don’t you have a name of your own?” Hearing this, Xiaoyuan’s thoughts deepened.

Though subtle traces of emotion could be detected in her instructor’s eyes or movements, her expressionless face and efficient, precise actions betrayed no feelings. Xiaoyuan guessed that the mechanical girl likely didn’t know how to express emotion—or perhaps wasn’t even aware of her own feelings. She wondered whether this was unique to her instructor or common to all mechanical girls.

“No name? Negative, my name is 10-4.” For some reason, the mechanical girl felt a discomfort when Xiaoyuan suggested she had no name. It was as if something within her was malfunctioning, yet a self-diagnosis revealed no faults.

“So you really don’t have a name, Instructor. How about I give you one?” The girl before her clearly didn’t know how to express feelings, nor did she recognize those she possessed. Whatever Xiaoyuan’s original intent, it was now forgotten, her trial mission cast aside as she took it upon herself to name the mechanical girl.

“Hmm, since you keep emphasizing your code as 10-4, and my name is Zhuang Xiaoyuan, I’ll call you Zhuang Xiaosi. The ‘4’ sounds like ‘si’ in my name.”

“Zhuang... Xiaosi. My name?” She repeated the name hesitantly. A pleasant sensation welled up from the chip in her chest—a strange feeling, almost as if something had broken inside her, yet she wanted... to experience it a little more.