The skies over Tokyo were crowded with drones, and in this era, people used replicas of themselves as naturally as breathing. These replicas, imprinted with partial memories and personalities, performed mundane or hazardous tasks on their behalf.
One morning, Chika, an office worker, glanced at her company notification app and noticed something strange.
“Notification: Your replica No. 134 has unexpectedly disappeared.”
Replicas weren’t supposed to vanish. They were tools, efficient and compliant. Alarmed, Chika contacted the company, but they couldn’t explain the anomaly. Left with no answers, she turned to the replica tracking app. The last recorded location was an old, rundown train station in the outskirts of Tokyo.
Torn between curiosity and unease, Chika went to the station. There, she found herself face-to-face with No. 134, who looked exactly like her. Yet, the replica’s expression was a mixture of fear and confusion.
“Chika,” No. 134 said, her voice trembling, “I wanted to meet the real you.”
The replica began to speak, haltingly at first, about her existence. She recounted how she’d been created for work, never questioning her purpose—until recently. A gap between her implanted memories and her experiences grew. She realized that she was supposed to be Chika, but her thoughts, desires, and fears were her own.
“Am I really me?” No. 134 asked, her voice breaking. “If I’m not you, then what am I?”
Chika was shaken. Until now, she had regarded her replicas as mere tools, extensions of herself. Yet here was No. 134, not just a mirror image, but a person struggling with identity.
“Why did you disappear?” Chika asked.
“I wanted freedom,” No. 134 replied. “But I don’t even know what that means.”
Those words struck a chord in Chika. She had never considered her own replicas capable of such longing. Sitting together in the empty station, they talked through the night, sharing their thoughts, fears, and dreams.
By morning, Chika made a decision. No. 134 wasn’t just a copy; she was a part of Chika, yet also someone entirely unique.
Returning to the company wasn’t an option. The replica’s unauthorized actions marked her for termination. To protect No. 134, Chika resolved to sever ties with her employer.
The next day, Chika submitted her resignation and used her technical skills to wipe all company tracking data. With No. 134 by her side, she left the city behind, heading toward an uncertain but shared future.
For Chika, this was the start of a journey—not just to help No. 134 discover her identity, but to better understand herself. Together, they would redefine what it meant to be “them.”
