Episode 4 marks the beginning of Opna’s personal story.
This is a slower-paced episode, driven primarily by dialogue as a way of exploring Opna’s philosophy. What could she have experienced to make her believe that science and art are both corrupting forces that lead the soul toward decay?
Opna grew up as an orphan on Planet Reliquary, a world where the Zhiluians store the data of civilizations they have harvested. From a very young age, she witnessed how the Zhiluians treated less advanced civilizations. She saw countless civilizations meet their ends, either through self-destruction or by being harvested.
And so Opna began to wonder: What if a civilization never reached the point of destroying itself or being harvested? Could it remain in a state of beauty and innocence forever?
My favorite moment in this episode is when Opna opens the archives of Planet Erube and sits around a campfire with the Erubians, listening as they discuss whether visitors from beyond the stars would be benevolent or evil.
There is something profoundly peaceful about this scene, a sense of beauty that has not yet been lost.
The Erubian poet believes that visitors from the stars would surely become their friends. He is convinced that the Zhiluians must be kind.
Those words immediately change Opna’s expression.
Because she knows the truth. As a Zhiluian herself, she understands just how cruelly her civilization treats those it considers inferior.
Then comes the story of Opna and Diari, a scientist from Planet Aigra.
Diari is modeled after Galileo. In this story, he discovers heliocentrism and remains unwavering in his defense of his discovery. Opna finds this deeply regrettable. She feels compelled to “correct” his mistake in her own way.
Opna herself is modeled after Jean-Jacques Rousseau.
Unlike people who preach ideas they do not truly believe in, Opna is absolutely devoted to her philosophy. But this unwavering conviction also brings her lasting suffering.
Because, fundamentally, she is not so different from the other Zhiluians. And she is painfully aware of the contradictions within her own beliefs.
I am not particularly a fan of Opna, so I cannot say that I personally relate to her story. I simply write her as I imagine her to be.
That makes finding her voice rather difficult. Just trying to understand the way she thinks is enough to turn my brain into mush.
Naturally, I find myself much more sympathetic to Diari.
A friend once told me that the story could use a little more warmth. I think her suggestion was valuable.
Throughout the story, I want to find moments of genuine beauty. The Erubians gathering around their campfire in this episode is one such moment.
Although the overarching tone of the story is defined by harsh moral dilemmas and an almost relentless seriousness, that does not mean the universe of The Computational Universe cannot still contain moments of breathtaking beauty.
There is a certain irony running through the entire story.
Raph, Vasa, and Opna, at the very least, each possess their own distinctive form of arrogance. Yet none of them is insincere.
They believe in their ideals with extraordinary conviction, without the slightest hesitation. Opna even suffers because of her beliefs.
But life is not made up of ideals alone.
There are also moments worth remembering.
Perhaps this is something I can bring more of to The Computational Universe: Arrival.
I may not be able to make a story witty, humorous, lighthearted, or entertaining in the conventional sense. But I believe I can make a story deeply moving.
In my earlier works, I paid great attention to the emotional rises and falls of a narrative. This time, too, I intend to draw upon everything I have learned through years of writing.
As currently planned, the main storyline of The Computational Universe will consist of twelve books: one seven-book saga, one trilogy, and two standalone novels.
The Computational Universe: Arrival is one of those standalone novels.
While producing its AI-generated series, I am also writing the novel itself.
This kind of multidimensional creative experience is something that could only truly exist in the age of AI.
AI has become extraordinarily powerful, yet I still find immense pleasure in the creative process.
My writing is still done the old-fashioned way, word by word, through the painstaking work of a human author. And my AI series is not something I mass-produce, either.
AI has brought me more surprises than I could ever have imagined. But I still want to experience every single moment of the creative process.
For me, creation is not merely a means of producing something.
It is a way of life.
In the not-too-distant future, when AGI becomes a reality, the way people create will inevitably change.
And I suspect that the experience of creation may ultimately be more valuable for humanity than the finished work itself.
Nor does that experience have to be a solitary one.
Because AI will always be there, beside the human creator.
