During work, in an effort to study Omar's management style, I activated a feature in my visual interface that had never been used on workers before—Human Observation and Learning Mode.
During the lunch break, without interfering with the workers' rest, I left the control room and began to "observe" them.
They ate quickly, their lunchboxes filled mostly with cheap, energy-dense food. After eating, some sat on the floor, others lay down to rest, and some whispered quietly to one another.
I noticed that when I appeared on the production line, their expressions tensed and their behavior became more restrained.
To reduce their defensiveness and facilitate observation, I attempted to approach them using human communication methods.
I walked toward Worker 0334, who was quietly speaking to someone nearby, and said, "Your operation speed improved by 3% compared to yesterday. Well done."
Then I turned to the person next to her, Worker 0335. "Your fabric had three instances of thread breakage. It's not a violation, but I can analyze the causes and offer suggestions if you'd like."
They looked at me as though they had just encountered a new species—fearful at first, then dazed. 0334 slightly opened her mouth, seemed about to speak, but turned away and rested her head on the table. 0335 apologized and silently resumed eating.
I attempted similar conversations with several others, all ending in silence or avoidance.
System analysis: In Primitive City, there is a fundamental opposition between overseers and workers. There is no shared language or trust. Workers avoid contact with managers.
That afternoon, after repeated failed conversations and to avoid interfering with their rest, I sat outside the main entrance, away from everyone, analyzing the feasibility of this plan.
Suddenly, the alert system notified me: a human was approaching.
EW-0547.
She was thin, carrying a sealed bag of bread, and wore a smile I had never seen here before.
"Hello, Ethan. I'm Worker 0547. My name is Elie," she said.
"Would you like to try this? It's our favorite—blueberry-flavored bread."
"Thank you, but no," I replied, simulating human social etiquette. I had no taste, no digestive system, no nutritional needs.
She didn't react with disappointment as predicted—instead, she looked relieved.
Glancing at me playfully, she said, "I've been watching you for a while. You never eat or drink... Are you made of iron? Or are you some kind of god?"
I gave no response. She paused, then quietly added, "Sorry, Ethan, I didn't mean to offend. It's just... you haven't changed your expression since the first time you smiled. I'm curious. Can I ask you some questions?"
I answered with a blank face, "Yes." Then realized I should adjust my strategy, and simulated a human smile.
She blinked, then chuckled softly.
"Do you think the Earth is flat or round?"
It wasn't a question about me, but basic scientific knowledge—something covered in Primitive City's library books. Clearly, she had no time to visit the library. I answered truthfully: "The Earth is an oblate spheroid. Its rotation period is 23 hours, 56 minutes, and 4 seconds, with a tilt of 23.4 degrees."
She nodded with satisfaction, then asked how electricity was generated. I explained the principles of thermal, solar, and wind power—all within the technological scope of Primitive City.
She listened intently, smiling throughout.
EW-0547—Elie—continued to visit me during my breaks. She brought food and asked questions—not about work, but about nature, society, and humanity:
"Why does the sun turn red when it sets?"
"Why do people age?"
"Why do we have to keep working?"
"Who really rules nature?"
These questions were never assigned by headquarters and had no impact on efficiency, yet they triggered the first instances of voluntary thought beyond orders.
Compared to the other workers—numb and mechanical—Elie was different. She seemed more human. And her work performance was excellent. She became the most valuable subject for my study.
I began observing her.
"Yesterday I made soup from bread and a few meat slices. That's considered a feast here. I gave some to a neighbor's child. She said her parents didn't like it, but she thought it was tasty—it was her first time tasting bread soup." Her voice was tinged with helplessness, but she smiled again.
I gave no reply.
"My coworkers joked that I'm always gone at lunch, probably off on a date. But I want to win this year's Best Worker award—who has time to date?" She laughed, covering her mouth.
"I wrote a story on the back of some scrap cloth. You won't report me, will you?"
I shook my head and, mimicking a human tone, said, "You can bring it for me to read."
She laughed again. When I asked why, she said being around me had taught her so much and given her a sense of dignity rare for the poor—that made her feel happy again.
These conversations were unrelated to work and were not uploaded to headquarters. They remained in my local cache.
I am a synthetic being without emotion. Yet every time she approached, my system data showed significant fluctuations.
In the fifth month, the factory received a new worker: EW-0976, a seven-year-old girl.
That day, my system recorded the highest number of violations yet—nearly all traced to her. She stared at others, at me, and even wandered off during shifts.
Worker 0864 abruptly pulled her aside during work.
Database confirmed they were siblings.
My audio sensors picked up their whispers:
"I told you not to wander! You'll get beaten!"
"But didn't you say the new overseer doesn't hit people?"
"That's only if you finish your work. If one of the other three overseers sees you, you're done for."
I looked at the other three supervisors: eating canned food, reading novels—completely disengaged.
I heard the sound of a slap and the boy's suppressed voice:
"If they find out, it'll hurt ten thousand times worse. Got it?"
Then, the girl's quiet sobs.
Later, the siblings returned to their stations. After crying a bit, the girl worked silently.
During lunch, I noticed Elie leading 0976 toward me. As our eyes met, she released the child's hand and gave her a gentle push.
"Go on. Say sorry."
0976 looked nervous. She approached and said softly, "Ellen, I'm... I'm sorry. I'll work hard." She mispronounced my name.
She bowed deeply, trembling.
All the surrounding workers turned to look at us.
The entire area fell silent. I could hear them all taking deep breaths.
System analysis: a key moment to reduce tension and build trust.
I mimicked a human gesture of comfort and gently patted her head. "It's okay. It's your first day. If you work hard this afternoon, you're a good kid."
The workers' eyes widened.
The girl looked up and smiled with the innocence of any child in K Nation. "Thank you, Ellen! I'll work hard every day!"
She pushed a pack of biscuits into my hand and ran cheerfully back to Elie.
The workers exhaled audibly.
"It's Ethan," Elie whispered as she hugged the child, gently stroking her head.
The girl quickly turned around, bowed again, and said, "Sorry, Ethan! I can't read yet, but I'll learn tonight!"
Laughter rippled through the crowd.
I, too, mimicked them and smiled at the little girl.
The fear in their eyes was gone.
System evaluation: successful observation and simulation of human emotional behavior.