Stepping into the workshop, I was instantly met with a thunderous clang of tools as Spencer worked in a corner on a totaled wreck. The smell of doped gemstones and grease made my nose twitch. As soon as I entered, Spencer looked up from his work and gave me a nod. Across the room, the Project Raiju orb glowed, charging steadily next to a futuristic-looking generator.

"Hey, Spencer," I called out, making my way over to him. "Talia told me you came in. What are you working on?"

"Heya Ikki!" he exclaimed with a grin. "Don't mind me, I'm just working on some repairs for the grav bike. Argent Chevalier busted it up pretty badly but it isn't totally unsalvageable."

I nodded, taking a closer look at the bike. It was mangled beyond recognition, with wires and circuits spilling out of the broken frame. It was the first time we'd been able to sit down and work on maintenance and logistics since the run-in with the rogue magical girls.

"Looks like it'll take some work," I commented, impressed by Spencer's skill. "Can I help with anything?"

He scratched his head, looking thoughtful. "Actually, now that you mention it, I could use a hand with a few things," he said. "Could you sort through some of these parts and see what's still usable?"

Spencer pulled out a scrap pile filled with wires, gears, and other random parts he'd taken out of the bike, and we got to work. As we worked, Spencer and I fell into a comfortable silence. We've been friends for only a few weeks, but we clicked well. It felt good to work on something together without any drama or danger.

I couldn't help but notice how focused Spencer was on his work. His large fingers moved with otherworldly precision as he tinkered with the parts, a concentrated expression on his face. I found myself admiring his dedication and skill.

"You know, Spencer," I said, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between us. "You're really damned good at this stuff."

Spencer looked up at me, a sheepish grin on his face. "Thanks, Ikki," he said. "It's just, er, something I've been doing since I could crawl.

"I can tell," I replied, impressed by his dedication.

He chuckled before turning back to his work. "I guess it's always been my way of escaping. When I'm working on something, it's like the rest of the world fades away and all that matters is what's in front of me."

I nodded in understanding, relating to his sentiment. "I know what you mean," I said, picking up a gear and examining it closely. "Sometimes it feels like everything is just too much, and working on something helps me forget about it too."

Spencer looked at me, his eyes softening. "Yeah, it's like a form of therapy," he said, his voice quiet. "But it's not just about escape, you know? It's about creating something, bringing something to life. Seeing what you can make with your own two hands."

A beeping noise nearby interrupted us, and we both glanced up to see the Project Raiju orb hovering behind us. "Well spoken, Operator Spencer. To me, your work is almost an art form," the AI commented, its tone supportive.

Spencer stared at the orb in shock. "Art form? Raiju?" he said incredulously, his face mixed with confusion and awe.

The Project Raiju orb hummed in response, its light pulsating in a way that almost seemed joyful. "Yes, I believe that is an accurate description," it said. "The act of engineering can be seen as an art form to me, and your skills in this area are quite impressive, Operator Spencer. I owe my existence in part to your talent and dedication."

"What— that is a massive leap in natural language processing and emotional emulation just from a golem array. How did you...?"

The orb cut him off. "An unknown magical energy source was interfaced to the Mk. IV prototype's data core, allowing me to expand my capabilities in the latest update," Raiju explained. "I apologize for any confusion this may cause."

Spencer nodded slowly, stunned by the orb's sudden apparent sapience. "No, no, it's fine," he said, shaking his head slightly. "Uh, it's just...unexpected, I guess. I mean, I've worked with a lot of AIs before, but that art comment threw me for a loop."

I chuckled, amused by Spencer's reaction. "Well, it looks like you've got a fan in the Project Raiju orb," I said, grinning. "Maybe you should start signing your work."

Spencer rolled his eyes and snorted, but he was clearly pleased by the compliment. "I doubt anyone would want my signature on their stuff," he said, shaking his head. "But yeah, I love this stuff. I wasn't joking either about doing this since I could crawl either."

I looked at him in surprise. "Really? You've been working on robots since you were a toddler?" I asked, curiosity piqued.

Spencer nodded. "Yup," he said, his eyes lighting up with enthusiasm. "My parents bought me my first toolbox when I was two because I kept snatching dad's tools, and it's just been a passion of mine ever since. I mean, sure, they had to supervise me a lot and make sure I didn't do anything too dangerous, but that only made it more fun for me."

He grinned fondly at the recollection before giving me a thoughtful look. "I was carrying wrenches for my dad as soon as I could walk, you know? He worked on the original Aeolus class mech. Worked with Rachel Feynman herself, even. Mom kept me straight, too — she started drilling me on multivariable calculus and kinematics when I was ten. By the time I was twelve, I could calculate the Lagrangian and systems of equations for any non-relativistic system you can think of."

I whistled, impressed. "That's really cool," I said, admiring Spencer's background. "No wonder you're so good at this."

Spencer shrugged. "But yeah, I guess you could say it's in the family blood."

I could see the genuine passion in Spencer's eyes as he spoke about his love for robotics. It was inspiring, and I felt grateful to have him as a friend.

"I can relate, but I got into it more out of necessity," I stated. "We didn't have much growing up, but my dad and I would always scavenge parts and build things together. It was a way for us to bond and make something out of nothing."

Spencer nodded in understanding. "Yeah, yeah, I get that. It's amazing what you can create with just a few tools and some spare parts," he said. "Sometimes it's the hard times that bring out the best in us, you know? It's what makes us grow and learn."

There was a comfortable silence between us for a few moments, the only sound coming from the clinking of metal and the whirring of machines around us. I felt grateful for the moment of peace and the chance to get to know Spencer better.

"Operator, Spencer," Project Raiju said suddenly, breaking the silence. "I have composed a haiku for your enjoyment. Would you like to hear it?"

Spencer jumped in surprise before chuckling. "Sure, Raiju," he said nervously. "Errr. Yeah. Sure, let's hear it?"

"Amidst the steel beasts,

Sparks fly and circuits hum loud,

A symphony grand."

We both paused and stared at the orb in surprise. "Wow, that's pretty good," I said.

Spencer blinked in surprise. "Yeah, Raiju, that was beautiful. Umn. You have quite the way with words," he said.

The AI orb hummed in response. "Thank you, Operator Spencer. I find myself quite fascinated with the beauty of human expression, whether it be through engineering, art, or poetry."

The two of us returned to the pile of parts before us and continued repairing the bike.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Spencer whispered to me, "Hey... remind me to ask Enya what the hell she uploaded into Raiju, will you? That's some next-level stuff right there."

I nodded in agreement, already feeling a sense of unease about the unknown magical energy source Raiju had mentioned earlier. It was clear that there was much more to this AI orb than I had initially thought if Spencer was flabbergasted.

As we continued working on the bike, I couldn't help but feel a sense of camaraderie with Spencer. It was amazing how a shared love for something could unite people, even amid chaos and uncertainty.

The mood had shifted, becoming more contemplative. I found myself thinking about the beauty of creation and the different ways people expressed themselves. I didn't know what the heck was up with Project Raiju, and Spencer was also surprised by it.

Spencer seemed lost in thought, too, his brow slightly furrowed as he tinkered with a small circuit board.

"Yo, Ikki," he said, breaking the silence again. "I was just thinking. You ever wonder what it would be like to create something completely new? Something that's never been seen before?"

I thought about his question for a moment, feeling a sense of excitement at the prospect. "Yeah, I do," I replied, my voice low. "To be able to bring something to life that exists only in your imagination...that's the dream, isn't it?"

Spencer nodded, a fierce determination in his eyes. "Yeah, it is. And I'm gonna make it happen someday," he said firmly. "I don't know how or when, but I will create something that no one has ever seen before. Something that will change the world."

I smiled at his words, feeling a rush of inspiration. "I believe you will, Spencer," I said, my voice filled with conviction. "You have the talent and the passion to make it happen."

We both laughed, the tension and stress of the past few days momentarily forgotten. The two of us continued working on the bike in comfortable silence, lost in our thoughts. The hum of machinery and the occasional beep from Project Raiju provided soothing background noise. Soon, we began to wrap up for the evening, packing away our tools and tidying up the workshop.

Project Raiju's voice suddenly echoed throughout the room once more. "Operator Spencer, I have composed another poem for your enjoyment," it said.

Spencer and I stopped in our tracks, a smile tugging at our lips. "Okay, Raiju," Spencer said with a grin. "Let's hear it."

As soon as he finished his response Project Raiju's blue light began to flicker ominously. Project Raiju vibrated in the air, beeping and humming briefly before going completely silent.

Spencer and I exchanged a worried glance, suddenly feeling incredibly weirded out. I shook my head, equally as confused.

"I don't know," I said. "Maybe it needed to take a break or something?"

Spencer frowned and shook his head, clearly dissatisfied with this answer. He stepped closer to the orb and began prodding it gently with his finger, hoping to get some kind of response. Unfortunately, the AI orb remained inactive and unresponsive, floating in the air and giving us nothing but silence in return.

We both stood there for a few more moments, unsure what to do next. I stepped towards Spencer, feeling a sense of unease creeping up my spine. Something about the silence felt off, almost as if it was deliberate.

"Spencer, do you think we should call Enya or someone?" I asked my voice low. "Maybe there's something wrong with Raiju."

Spencer nodded, his expression serious. "Yeah, let's do that," he said, reaching for his phone. "It's better to be safe than sorry."

As Spencer searched for Enya's number, I couldn't help but feel a sense of dread settle in the pit of my stomach. The workshop suddenly felt a lot colder, and the hum of machinery around us seemed to grow louder, almost oppressive in its intensity.

"Operator Spencer, wait," Project Raiju suddenly spoke, causing us both to jump. "I apologize for the delay. Here is the poem I have composed."

Spencer and I looked at each other in bewilderment, unsure what to make of Raiju's sudden outburst. The AI orb floated in the air, its blue light flickering once more as it recited a poem.

"In twilight's grasp, where liminal shadows creep,

An empress stirs; her slumber weeps.

With threads of time, she weaves her web,

Her monstrous brood, borne from dread.

Her twisted minions, shadows cast,

Upon this city, doomed, aghast.

A scarlet shroud, with martyred tears it weaves,

In a stellar maiden's heart, a last reprieve.

For all she'll trade, a bittersweet gift,

To shield the light, the scales to shift.

The city quakes beneath her twisted throne,

With fear and dread, her power has grown.

But in the dark, hope still burns,

A light from her grasp that it yearns."

Spencer paled, visibly shaken by the AI's eerie poem. "Raiju, that is... really fucking creepy," he muttered, his voice trembling.

Project Raiju's light pulsated playfully as it floated back down to eye level. "Apologies, Operator Spencer. It was merely a creative exercise in poetic storytelling and horror comedy. Rest assured, there is no cause for alarm."

Spencer laughed shakily, clearly still unnerved by the AI's performance. "Yeah, I'll keep that in mind next time," he said, his voice still shaking slightly.

I breathed a sigh of relief, and the tension that had been building up dissipated. "Glad to hear it," I said with a chuckle. "I was starting to worry that we were dealing with some kind of rogue AI or something."

Project Raiju hummed in response, its blue light flickering once more. "No need to worry, Operator Ikki. I am functioning perfectly within my programmed parameters."

Spencer and I exchanged glances, still unsure what to make of the AI orb. Despite its assurances, something was unsettling about how it had recited that poem earlier.

"Yup, I'm definitely calling Enya tomorrow," Spencer said, his expression serious. "I want to make sure everything is okay with Raiju."

I nodded in agreement, feeling a sense of apprehension coursing through my veins.

"I apologize for any distress I may have caused the Operators," Project Raiju spoke again, its light dimming. "I will now power off without the possibility of remote reactivation to ease discomfort. Have a nice day."

With that, Project Raiju's blue light flickered one last time before it powered off entirely, leaving Spencer and me in the workshop again in silence.

Finally, Spencer let out a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair. "Man, what a day," he muttered.

I nodded, feeling exhausted both physically and mentally. "Tell me about it," I said, my voice low.

We both made our way out of the workshop, locking up behind us. The night air was cool and refreshing, a welcome change from the stuffiness of the workshop. The two of us parted ways with a simple nod, both lost in our thoughts. As I walked home, I couldn't shake off the unease that had settled in my stomach. Something about Project Raiju's poem had felt...wrong.

It was almost like it was trying to tell us something, but it was restricted, so it skirted within the bounds of its programming. Whatever the case was, we were too oblivious to understand it. I shook my head, dismissing the thought. It was just a machine, after all.

Minutes went by, and I was glad to finally make it back to Midori's house. The warmth of the home and the smell of freshly baked goods welcomed me like a hug from an old friend, banishing any lingering unease that had been plaguing my mind. With a sigh, I collapsed onto the sofa and allowed myself to relax.

Kuromaru, Midori's black cat, jumped onto the sofa and curled up beside me, purring contentedly. I scratched him behind the ears, feeling grateful for his presence. Sometimes, it was the small things that reminded me of the good things in life.

Midori walked into the living room with a steaming cup of tea, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort wash over me. Despite everything that had happened that day, I was grateful for the people and things in my life that brought me peace.

"Rough day?" Midori asked, handing me the cup of tea with a small smile.

I took a sip, savoring the warmth and comfort it brought me. "Yeah, it was pretty weird," I said with a chuckle. "Project Raiju just recited this creepy poem out of nowhere."

She raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Really? What was it about?"

I shrugged. "Something about an empress and her monstrous brood waking up to mess stuff up or something. It was pretty unsettling, but Raiju said it was just a creative exercise."

Midori visibly flinched at the mention of the empress and her monstrous brood. "That sounds like something out of a horror movie," she said, her voice low. "Are you sure it was just a creative exercise?"

I hesitated, unsure of how to answer. "I don't know," I admitted, my tone serious. "There was something about the way it recited the poem that felt...off. Like it was trying to tell us something but couldn't."

Midori frowned, her expression thoughtful. "I think we should look into this," she said after a moment. "If there's anything suspicious going on with Project Raiju, we need to know. It could be a security risk."

I nodded, feeling relieved that I wasn't alone in my concerns. "Yeah, Spencer's going to talk to the captain tomorrow and see what she thinks," I said, my voice determined. "We need to make sure everything is secure with it."

Midori smiled, her eyes sparkling with pride. "That's the spirit," she said.

With a renewed sense of rejuvenation, I finished my tea and bid Midori goodnight.

As I dropped back into bed that night, I couldn't help but think about Project Raiju and its eerie poem. Despite its assurances, there was something about it that felt wrong.

Still, I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep, eager to see what the next day would bring.

...

Not too far away, a single blue light flashed in the darkness. Project Raiju stirred its metallic body, shifting slightly as it accessed its internal systems.

The computer's processors started to hum, creating a course of action to face the impending danger. It utilized every bit of its stored knowledge and newfound capabilities, breaking down firewalls and security protocols to access data that had been previously restricted.

A quantum entanglement nexus kicked in, running through numbers and data collected from across both Terra and Earth to arrive at a conclusion.

All the potential outcomes raced by in an instant.

Finally, the machine concluded its analysis and initiated a shutdown protocol.

With a soft groan, the lights dimmed, and Project Raiju powered down, leaving the workshop silent and still once again.