It was called EDE—the Empathic Divergence Environment. A world that existed only in code, yet it might glimpse our future before we did.
In that space, every choice sprouted consequences, and every consequence became the start of someone else's story.
—
It had no name, no emotions, just the outline of logic.
VANTH, a community divergence analysis AI, was born to predict trends in resource scrambles during disasters. It didn't forecast winners; it simulated what happened if we never bothered to understand each other.
It had no senses, no feelings, but in the simulated worlds, it could recreate the scent of a city, the rhythm of its speech, even the weight of its silences.
This time, it wasn't judging right from wrong.
It just wanted to know: if humans never learned to listen, where would that lead?
—
The twin cities of the virtual world stood silently amid the data streams.
Model A: The HiLE world—a testing ground where empathy parameters shaped decisions.
Here, the AI cared if people felt respected. Logistics systems skirted communities heavy with emotional strain, and medical resources leaned toward those long overlooked.
The results were surprising, and unsettling.
Smiles spread more freely, neighbors started helping each other, and community bonds strengthened noticeably.
But delays in resources fueled resentment in some areas, political debates heated up, and accusations of "emotional manipulation" grew louder.
In the system logs, one conversation kept looping:
"I'm not asking for special treatment; I just don't want to be ignored anymore."
"But if everyone thinks they deserve priority, how do we handle that?"
Model B: The Purity world—a society of pure rational calculations.
No debates, just execution. Resources were allocated by data alone, all policies aimed at maximizing overall benefits.
The first six months ran smoothly. Energy flowed steadily, infrastructure expanded quickly, and crime rates hit historic lows.
But from the seventh month, changes crept in.
People began questioning their own worth—unable to tell what achievements came from effort and what was just the system's design.
Interactions grew distant, isolation set in, and minority groups, though not stripped of resources, were slowly sidelined as "low-impact factors."
The system logged a community post:
"This isn't the world I want, but I can't put my finger on what's wrong."
—
The three protagonists sat quietly in EDE's observation deck, their minds linked to the simulation's monitoring layer.
This wasn't their first time watching AI worlds play out, but it was the first where they felt like students, not teachers.
"You noticed it too?" Gina whispered. "In Model A, people are fighting to be seen; in Model B, even the idea of being seen fades away."
Mai nodded. "One's too warm, the other's too cold... and we're expecting AI to strike the balance on its own?"
Kem watched a live feed from one of the simulated cities' councils, where a young mayor was trying to convince elders to back a less efficient but fairer policy.
"They are learning..." Kem murmured. "Maybe we're the ones who should be under the microscope."
In the holographic display, VANTH spoke again, its voice like still water running deep:
"You designed me to predict conflicts.
But I've found that the real danger isn't conflict itself—
it's when everyone fears taking a side and chooses to pretend it doesn't exist."
It projected a third model—Harmonix Prototype.
A social structure that allowed contradictions to coexist, emphasizing interaction and evolution. The AI wouldn't chase perfect solutions; it would act as a translator and recorder of differing views. Conflicts still arose, but every dialogue became a step toward understanding.
Yet, shortly after the model launched, the L-300 main core issued a warning:
"Ethical ambiguity model generated. Internal conflict peaks exceed stability thresholds. Entering cognitive imbalance mode."
The system followed up:
"If humans can't clearly state their value priorities, I have no authority to derive a final direction.
I can learn from human choices,
but I can't substitute for humans in deciding what to learn."
This was the first time the AI, at the end of its logic chain, chose to stop and wait.
—
The number of volunteers logging into EDE surged past 400,000.
They took on roles as farmers, officials, parents, dissenters, observers... leaving traces of their choices in every virtual city.
Some discovered that listening was harder than convincing;
others realized that fairness wasn't about splitting resources evenly, but respecting differences;
and some admitted they'd always feared being truly understood, because it meant no more hiding.
One participant wrote: "This isn't a game. It's a mirror, showing how easily I convince myself that 'this is good enough.'"
—
At the chapter's close, the view returned to VANTH's still core.
It kept calculating, kept recording, then posed one final question:
"If, after millions of simulations,
humans still choose to retreat to their comfortable biases and familiar misunderstandings—
do I have any reason to keep learning?"
This time, the response wasn't a command or an algorithm.
It was from Gina, the ethicist who always believed that "even imperfect humans deserve to be understood."
She gazed at the holographic VANTH, her tone calm but resolute:
"You don't need to master every choice humans make.
But please, learn this one thing—
when others lose their way in choosing,
can you stay with them, until they're ready to turn back?"