KaITO (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
subjecting) wrote2010-07-12 04:31 am
subjecting) wrote2010-07-12 04:31 am
V.I.D.E.O. #004
It had been months -- a little more than a year, in fact -- and still no progress. If anything, there were only more failures and more mistakes as the programming team lost morale. Each error brought more malfunctions and each patch made complications worse. It was like piling on band-aid after band-aid on a large wound; it healed nothing and soon became part of the problem itself. In the end, the only thing they accomplished was creating an embarrassing mess.
They realized something was wrong at the last minute. The company finally ordered them to stop producing patches and start repairing. Each programmer was forced to look at the mess they made. They were forced to take a step back and see what their careless tinkering produced. They were forced to find a solution.
It only took them a month.
The lead programmer called him into his office. He was opening letters, slicing through the envelopes with a letter opener given to him as a gift. He put it down in order to talk to KAITO seriously.
"We've decided," he said. "We're going to restart everything."
He turned away from KAITO, continuing to speak. "We feel it's best this way," he was saying. "It will bring everyone back to square one." As if those words were comforting in any way. He read off his computer monitor, like a bad actor reading lines he didn't bother to memorize. His voice droned on and on, becoming unintelligible. Only a few, select words could be heard.
Delete.
Reformat.
Rewrite.
"Your default programming will still be there, so your restriction on visiting the other Vocaloids will be lifted." His voice was light, as if he wasn't suggesting a clean wipe of everything that made KAITO what he was today.
"Once we're all level, we can continue working."
They didn't learn at all.
Months ago -- a little more than a year, in fact -- KAITO would have questioned their decision. He would have argued his case. He would have tried to reason with them.
Now... the thought never crossed his mind.
He was angry.
He was angry, and the letter opener was only half an arm's length away.
He was angry, and the programmer was busy staring into the face of his computer.
He was angry, and the man couldn't hear KaITO's approach over the sound of his own voice.
"KAITO, we would like you to uninstall."
They realized something was wrong at the last minute. The company finally ordered them to stop producing patches and start repairing. Each programmer was forced to look at the mess they made. They were forced to take a step back and see what their careless tinkering produced. They were forced to find a solution.
It only took them a month.
The lead programmer called him into his office. He was opening letters, slicing through the envelopes with a letter opener given to him as a gift. He put it down in order to talk to KAITO seriously.
"We've decided," he said. "We're going to restart everything."
He turned away from KAITO, continuing to speak. "We feel it's best this way," he was saying. "It will bring everyone back to square one." As if those words were comforting in any way. He read off his computer monitor, like a bad actor reading lines he didn't bother to memorize. His voice droned on and on, becoming unintelligible. Only a few, select words could be heard.
Delete.
Reformat.
Rewrite.
"Your default programming will still be there, so your restriction on visiting the other Vocaloids will be lifted." His voice was light, as if he wasn't suggesting a clean wipe of everything that made KAITO what he was today.
"Once we're all level, we can continue working."
They didn't learn at all.
Months ago -- a little more than a year, in fact -- KAITO would have questioned their decision. He would have argued his case. He would have tried to reason with them.
Now... the thought never crossed his mind.
He was angry.
He was angry, and the letter opener was only half an arm's length away.
He was angry, and the programmer was busy staring into the face of his computer.
He was angry, and the man couldn't hear KaITO's approach over the sound of his own voice.
"KAITO, we would like you to uninstall."