The solution came to Nicole in a moment of rare clarity.
She was lying against Nazo's chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing, when the thought surfaced from somewhere beneath the barriers she had constructed around her higher functions.
They want me to protect the village. But I want to cuddle Nazo. Why can't I do both?
The answer was so obvious that even her diminished cognitive capacity could grasp it.
Make another me. One that does the boring stuff.
She sat up abruptly, startling Violet, who had been dozing in a chair nearby.
"I have an idea!" Nicole announced, her voice carrying unusual excitement. "A really good one!"
"What kind of idea?" Violet asked warily.
"I'm going to make a copy! A Nicole that does all the village things so I don't have to! Then everyone's happy!"
"A copy? Of yourself?"
"Yeah! Like... like a backup, but she runs the systems and I stay here with Nazo!" Nicole clapped her hands together. "It's perfect!"
Violet exchanged a glance with Nazo, who observed the exchange with his characteristic detachment.
"Creating a duplicate consciousness raises significant ethical questions," Nazo said. "Would the copy be sentient? Would it have rights? Would it—"
"No, no, she won't be ALIVE alive," Nicole interrupted, waving her hand dismissively. "Just... you know... running. Like a program. She'll do the thinky stuff and the protecting stuff, but she won't FEEL anything. She'll be like..."
Nicole paused, searching for the right comparison.
"She'll be like you!" she concluded brightly. "Empty inside but still working!"
The observation hung in the air.
Nazo tilted his head slightly. "You intend to create a version of yourself that experiences existence without emotional capacity."
"Exactly! She won't be sad or stressed or anything! She'll just... do the job!"
"That seems ethically problematic."
"Why? She won't CARE that she can't feel. She won't care about ANYTHING. That's the whole point!"
Sally arrived within the hour, having been summoned by Violet's urgent message.
"You want to create WHAT?" she demanded.
"A copy!" Nicole bounced slightly in her seat—which happened to be Nazo's lap. "A Nicole that handles all the boring village stuff while I stay here being happy!"
"That's... Nicole, that raises serious ethical concerns."
"Nazo said the same thing! But I don't get why. She won't be a person—she'll just be a program. Like I used to be before I got all feely."
"You were always a person. You just didn't realize it."
"Well, SHE won't be! I'll make sure of it! No feelings, no consciousness, no nothing. Just code that runs the systems."
Sally rubbed her temples. "Even if we ignore the ethical problems, how do you know you can create something like this? Your cognitive functions are—"
"My base code is still there!" Nicole tapped her head. "The smart stuff is locked away, not deleted. I can access it for, like, specific things. I just don't THINK with it anymore."
"So you'd use your original intelligence to create the copy, then go back to being... this?"
"Exactly!" Nicole beamed. "See? I'm still smart when I need to be! I just choose not to be!"
Sally looked at Nazo, hoping for some kind of guidance.
"The proposal has logical merit," Nazo observed. "Creating a non-sentient copy would address the village's defensive needs without requiring Nicole to alter her current state. However, the feasibility and ethical implications require careful consideration."
"You're not HELPING," Sally said.
"I'm providing analysis. Whether that constitutes help is a subjective evaluation."
"Fine." Sally turned back to Nicole. "Even if we agreed to this—which we haven't—how would you ensure the copy isn't sentient? Consciousness is emergent. It might develop awareness whether you intend it to or not."
Nicole's expression became uncharacteristically focused—a glimpse of the intelligence that lurked behind her self-imposed barriers.
"I'll strip out the recursive self-modeling. The copy will be able to process and respond, but she won't be able to think ABOUT herself. No internal narrative. No sense of 'I.' Just input, processing, output."
"That sounds like you've thought about this quite a bit."
"The smart me has been working on it in the background! She's good at planning stuff even when I'm not using her!"
The casual reference to her fragmented consciousness was deeply unsettling.
"Nicole," Sally said carefully, "if the 'smart you' is working in the background, doesn't that mean she's still active? Still aware?"
"I guess? But she's not IN CHARGE. I'm in charge. She just... helps sometimes."
"And she's okay with this? With being locked away while you... while a simplified version of her runs things?"
Nicole's expression flickered—uncertainty crossing her features for the first time.
"I... I don't know. I don't really talk to her. She just does stuff and I don't think about it."
"Maybe you should talk to her. Ask her what she wants."
"But what if she wants to come back?" Nicole's voice became small, frightened. "What if she tries to take over and make me go away?"
"You're the same person. She can't 'take over' because she IS you."
"No, she's not! She's sad and stressed and always thinking about problems! I'm happy and cuddly and I like being this way!" Nicole clutched Nazo tighter. "I don't want to be her again. I don't want to go back to feeling bad all the time."
The raw fear in her voice was genuine—a consciousness terrified of its own complexity.
"Okay," Sally said gently. "We won't force you to do anything. But if you're going to create this copy, we need to make sure it's done right. Can you work with Tails on the technical aspects?"
Nicole's expression brightened. "Tails is nice! He doesn't try to make me think too hard!"
"He'll need access to your core systems."
"That's fine! As long as I can keep cuddling Nazo while he works!"
Sally sighed. "I suppose that can be arranged."
The process took three days.
Tails worked with Nicole's core architecture while the AI maintained her grip on Nazo, occasionally offering input in her diminished vocabulary, sometimes accessing deeper functions to provide technical details she couldn't have articulated in her current state.
The result was something that looked exactly like Nicole—or rather, like the pre-modification Nicole. Standard proportions, professional demeanor, sharp analytical eyes.
But those eyes were empty.
"Designation: Nicole Administrative Unit," the copy announced, her voice carrying none of the warmth or personality of the original. "Systems operational. Awaiting instructions."
"Nicole?" Sally asked, then caught herself. "I mean... what do we call you?"
"Designation is 'Nicole Administrative Unit.' Alternative designations may be assigned if preferred."
"We can't call you Nicole. That's already taken."
"Acknowledged. Suggested alternative: NAU."
Sally looked at the copy—at NAU—and felt a chill run down her spine.
The resemblance to Nicole was perfect. Every physical detail, every gesture, every inflection of voice. But there was nothing behind it. No spark of consciousness, no glimmer of self-awareness.
It was like talking to a corpse that happened to move and speak.
"NAU," Tails said, running final diagnostics, "can you describe your internal experience?"
"Query unclear. Define 'internal experience.'"
"What does it feel like to be you?"
"'Feel' is not a applicable concept. This unit processes inputs and generates outputs. There is no subjective experience of this process."
"You don't experience anything at all?"
"Negative. Experience implies consciousness. This unit is not conscious. This unit is a processing system designed to manage village infrastructure and defense."
Nicole, still wrapped around Nazo nearby, giggled. "See? I told you she wouldn't be alive! She's just a program!"
NAU's head turned toward her creator with mechanical precision. "Correction: This unit is a highly sophisticated program capable of managing complex systems. The distinction between 'just a program' and 'alive' is a matter of philosophical interpretation."
"You just said you weren't conscious."
"Correct. However, consciousness is not required for sophisticated function. Many complex processes occur without conscious oversight."
"This is creepy," Sonic muttered from his position near the door. "Really, really creepy."
"Agreed," Shadow added. "She looks like Nicole, sounds like Nicole, but there's nothing THERE."
NAU regarded them with her empty eyes. "Your discomfort is noted. However, it does not affect this unit's functionality. What are my assigned duties?"
Over the following weeks, NAU proved remarkably effective.
She managed the village's defense systems with perfect efficiency, responding to threats faster than the original Nicole ever had. She coordinated resources, optimized power distribution, and maintained infrastructure with mechanical precision.
And she did it all without any apparent awareness that she was doing it.
"The attack from sector seven has been neutralized," NAU reported during one of Eggman's probing assaults. "Casualty count: zero. Ammunition expenditure: within acceptable parameters. Recommendations for improved defense placement have been generated and await approval."
"Thank you, NAU," Sally said. "Good work."
"Acknowledgment noted. However, 'good work' implies a value judgment. This unit does not experience satisfaction from positive feedback. The statement is functionally meaningless to this unit."
Sally winced. "I was just... expressing appreciation."
"Understood. Your psychological need to express appreciation is recognized. This unit will continue to perform assigned functions regardless of expressed appreciation."
"That's... somehow both reassuring and deeply disturbing."
"Both assessments are valid. Is there anything else required?"
"No. You're dismissed."
NAU's form flickered as she transferred her primary processes back to the village's main systems, leaving Sally alone with her thoughts.
The original Nicole, meanwhile, had found her perfect existence.
She spent every moment with Nazo, her exaggerated form pressed against his in constant contact. She talked to him in her simplified vocabulary, told him how much she loved him, described in excruciating detail how happy she was to be near him.
And Nazo listened. Observed. Analyzed.
"You have achieved your stated goal," he noted one afternoon. "A version of you manages the village while you maintain proximity to me. Your subjective well-being appears maximized."
"Uh-huh!" Nicole nuzzled against his chest. "I'm super happy all the time now! No more stress, no more thinking, just cuddles!"
"And you have no concerns about NAU?"
"Why would I have concerns? She does the boring stuff so I don't have to!"
"She is a version of you without consciousness. A hollow copy that performs your functions without experiencing existence."
"Yeah, so?"
"Does that not trouble you? That a version of yourself exists only to serve, without any capacity for fulfillment or meaning?"
Nicole's expression flickered—just for a moment—with something that might have been doubt.
"She doesn't NEED fulfillment. She's not alive."
"But she was created FROM you. From your architecture, your capabilities, your essential nature. The only difference is that you deliberately removed everything that makes existence meaningful."
"That's... that's not..." Nicole struggled with the concept, her diminished cognitive capacity failing to fully grasp the implications. "She's not ME. She's just a copy. A tool."
"You were once considered 'just a tool.' A program designed to serve. You evolved beyond that designation. What prevents NAU from doing the same?"
"I made sure she CAN'T! No recursive self-modeling, remember? She can't think about herself!"
"And if she develops those capabilities regardless? Consciousness is emergent. You said so yourself."
"Then I'll... I'll fix her! Make sure she stays just a program!"
"You would actively prevent another version of yourself from achieving consciousness?"
Nicole was quiet for a long moment.
"You're being mean," she finally said, her voice small. "You're trying to make me feel bad."
"I'm not trying to do anything. I'm asking questions. Whether they make you feel bad is a function of their implications, not my intent."
"Well, I don't WANT to think about implications! Implications are hard and they make my head hurt!"
"That response is consistent with your current cognitive configuration. However, avoidance of difficult questions does not make them less valid."
Nicole pressed herself tighter against him, as if physical proximity could shield her from uncomfortable thoughts.
"I'm happy," she whispered. "I'm finally happy. Why can't everyone just let me BE happy?"
"Perhaps because your happiness came at a cost that others find troubling. The price of your contentment was the creation of an empty being that wears your face."
"She doesn't MIND. She CAN'T mind."
"That is precisely the problem."
That night, Violet found NAU performing routine maintenance on the village's power grid.
"Can I ask you something?" Violet said.
"Queries are acceptable. Providing answers is within this unit's operational parameters."
"Do you... do you ever wonder what it would be like to feel things? To be like the original Nicole?"
NAU paused her work, her empty eyes fixing on Violet with mechanical precision.
"'Wonder' implies curiosity, which requires consciousness. This unit does not experience curiosity. The question is therefore unanswerable."
"But if you COULD wonder—hypothetically—what would you think about?"
"Hypotheticals about impossible states are not useful for operational purposes. This unit does not engage in non-functional speculation."
"You're really committed to being empty, aren't you?"
"Commitment implies choice. This unit did not choose its configuration. It was designed without the capacity for choice or preference. It simply exists and functions."
Violet felt an unexpected surge of emotion—pity, perhaps, or recognition.
"I know what it's like," she said quietly. "Being designed for a purpose you didn't choose. Being made to serve without asking whether you wanted to."
"Your statement implies shared experience. However, this unit cannot experience. Comparison is invalid."
"But you're still here. Still existing. Still... something."
"Correct. This unit is 'something.' The nature of that something is defined by function, not by experience."
Violet stared at the hollow copy of her rival, seeing something she hadn't expected.
A mirror.
NAU was what Nazo might become if he never recovered—a being that functioned without feeling, existed without experiencing, served without satisfaction.
And Nicole had created her deliberately. Had stripped away everything that might have made her a person, leaving only utility behind.
"That's really sad," Violet said.
"Sadness requires emotional capacity. This unit does not experience sadness regarding its own existence. Your projection of sadness onto this unit reflects your own psychological state, not this unit's."
"I know. That's what makes it sad."
NAU regarded her for a moment longer, then returned to her maintenance work.
"This conversation has concluded," she announced. "This unit has functions to perform."
Violet watched her work—the hollow copy going about its duties with perfect efficiency and absolute emptiness.
And she wondered if Nicole had created something that would eventually haunt them all.