November 2nd—
The day after Samuel brought Leon and Vulkan to downtown New Akra for drinking, chatting, and experiencing the vibrant street life.
The morning sun pierced through the thin mist, spilling its golden light onto the towering mega-structures and winding streets below.
In the sky, magnetic levitation aircraft zipped by like flowing streams of liquid silver, glimmering under the dawn's radiance. New Akra basked in this morning glow, transitioning seamlessly from a bustling nightlife into the buzz of a brand-new day.
Commuters in professional attire hurried along the streets, their faces focused and determined. Public transportation systems operated with precision, carrying passengers toward their destinations and powering the city's pulse toward peak activity.
Meanwhile, construction sites across the city were abuzz with Hex construction robots, executing their tasks with silent precision. Tasks once requiring strenuous manual labor were now handled by T-800 units, equipped with unparalleled strength and endurance. These robust machines worked tirelessly, requiring no safety equipment, which often made them look somewhat comically out of place in traditional safety hats.
This scene was a snapshot of the Empire's present state—stable yet rapidly advancing, with automation and mechanization deeply woven into the fabric of daily life.
Manual labor had been largely phased out, replaced by efficient machines, leaving humans to focus on key management and decision-making roles.
And yet, despite the pervasive reach of automation, the service industry remained reliant on the human touch.
Take the Hua Xia Food Pavilion, for example, a prime example of the fusion between exquisite dining and attentive service, delivered by a mix of elven and human employees whose warmth and personable interactions machines could not yet replicate.
This balance extended to the Empire's essential hubs like starports, train stations, and space stations. These key locations employed significant numbers of human service workers to handle roles where automation could not yet replace a human's adaptability and empathy.
The human element still played an irreplaceable role in bridging the gaps left by cold machinery—offering care, warmth, and a human touch that even the most advanced artificial systems struggled to imitate.
However, the lines between human warmth and mechanical precision were beginning to blur.
A few years ago, synthetic humans (or "synths") were merely experimental prototypes. Today, they have become one of Atlas Corporation's best-selling and most sophisticated products.
Synths are no longer just supplements to the workforce—they've seamlessly integrated into the Empire's daily life in entirely new ways.
For example, during Leon's ride on the subway yesterday, he observed NAPD (New Akra Police Department) officers paired with synth partners. Though Leon didn't stay long enough to witness a full interrogation scene, his past experiences in the Trenches Crusader universe—where synth-T-800 pairs performed house-to-house identity checks—painted a clear picture of their capabilities.
These synth-and-T-800 combinations, with the T-800 providing physical strength and the synth offering social finesse, executed their duties flawlessly.
Even though synths were not fully mechanical, their synthetic flesh and organic components gave them human-like qualities. However, their computing power and logical abilities far exceeded human capabilities, second only to lower-tier artificial intelligences, such as the Empire's "Dumb" AI systems.
Unlike the sentient "Smart" AIs, synths lacked true consciousness or independent thought. However, they were equipped with emotion simulation modules that allowed them to mimic human warmth and empathy with astonishing accuracy.
From a glance, synths were indistinguishable from humans in both appearance and behavior. They smiled warmly, demonstrated impeccable social etiquette, and even offered comforting words when appropriate.
But this humanity was merely a facade—calculated and programmed into their algorithms.
This near-human presentation made synths feel "relatable" to those they interacted with, yet their true lack of humanity left an unsettling impression on some who contemplated the philosophical implications.
The NAPD held synth partners in high regard, frequently praising their capabilities.
Synths provided unparalleled support in high-stakes situations, efficiently assessing risks and proposing diverse solutions while ensuring their human counterparts' safety. Their ability to process data and execute decisions with clinical precision was unmatched, making them ideal partners for law enforcement in a chaotic and dangerous world.
In fact, the Empire's military and various armed forces began to consider deploying synths as frontline combat technicians. This decision aimed not only to enhance combat efficiency but also to reduce reliance on human soldiers in support roles.
Meanwhile, synths were making waves in the civilian market. The "Companion" series of synths had become a runaway success, garnering widespread acclaim from users.
The popularity of the Companion series spoke volumes about the Empire's citizens' desire for the "perfect partner."
On Atlas Corporation's official consumer website, customers could fully customize their Companion synths to meet personal aesthetic and emotional preferences. Skin tone, facial features, height, physique, hair color, and even eye color could be tailored to the buyer's desires.
Beyond physical appearance, customers could also program their synths' personalities, ensuring they were ideally suited to the buyer's social needs.
Such extreme personalization catered to a diverse range of individuals and lifestyles. However, the more complex the customization, the higher the cost.
The base model for an Atlas-manufactured Companion synth cost 200,000 credits (cR)—equivalent to ten months' basic salary for an Imperial Guard sergeant (excluding benefits).
While steep, this price didn't deter customers. The Companion series quickly became one of the Empire's most sought-after products.
For many citizens, these synths were the epitome of their ideal partner—faithful, kind, and devoid of human flaws such as irrational mood swings or betrayals. They represented the perfect blend of emotional support and companionship that many craved in a rapidly changing society.
They weren't just commodities but symbols of the Empire's technological and cultural progress, reflecting its citizens' aspirations for perfect relationships.
Atlas also offered a groundbreaking feature for Companion owners: the option to have children with their synths.
Through Atlas Hospital's advanced genetic services, customers could combine their genetic material (sperm or eggs) with preserved samples to produce a biological child. This innovation was made possible by the Companion synths' integration of technologies from various universes, including the living tissue of Terminator, advanced bioengineering from the Avatar universe, and cybernetic advancements from Cyberpunk 2077.
While Companion synths couldn't reproduce naturally, their artificial biology allowed them to age, experience physical injuries, and remain immune to all known diseases.
With such advancements, Companion synths became the ultimate "partner" for many young singles. Young professionals who once saved for traditional marriages now redirected their efforts toward purchasing synths, while die-hard anime fans saved tirelessly to customize their dream "2D waifu" or "husbando" into reality.
To regulate this growing phenomenon, the Empire enacted the Synthetic Rights Act.
While Companion synths lacked souls or independent thought, their safety and well-being were protected under Imperial law. Any user caught neglecting or abusing their synth faced severe penalties, including the risk of having their soul exiled to the Trenches Crusader universe's hell dimension.
Should a user tire of their Companion, they were prohibited from purchasing another or marrying a human partner without first submitting a "return" request to Atlas. Returned synths were upgraded and repurposed as military technicians, ensuring their continued service to the Empire.
Among those most thrilled by the introduction of Companion synths was none other than Gary "Roach" Sanderson, one of Su Yang's most loyal old-guard warriors.
On the day of the Companion series' launch, Roach enthusiastically spent 4 million cR to create a Companion perfectly tailored to his dream specifications.
As for Su Yang, Leon, and Vulkan, they had returned to the Imperial Palace and resumed their duties as Emperor and Primarchs.
Meanwhile, Charlie Hoinard prepared to embark on his new journey in Universe 08 (Halo) as a marine recruit, stepping into a life of fresh challenges and adventures.
In a subterranean magnetic levitation train speeding beneath Akra's surface, one particular carriage was filled with soldiers—Imperial Guardsmen in green fatigues and Naval Infantry Marines heading for deployment.
Yawns echoed through the cabin.
"Man, I'm still so sleepy. Just gonna nap a bit longer..."
"You think 08's really half the galaxy under Imperial control already? First time I've been off-world."
"Sure, it's huge, but it's risky too..."
"Risky? That's where the glory is! More danger, more merit points! I'm saving up to buy a 2D waifu!"
"Wait, what?"
"You heard me!"
Laughter rippled through the train as soldiers teased their comrade's bold declaration.
Near the back, Charlie Hoinard quietly stared out the window, watching the tunnel lights blur past.
When the chatter about "waifus" reached his ears, he raised an eyebrow, a faint smile playing on his lips.
Perhaps, just perhaps... he was getting an idea?
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