Phoenix was logical. Not prone to emotions. But, maybe some situations demanded anger, by logic. They were aware that the hideous meme was being circulated in print. It had become a kind of talisman of the Status Quo faction. But, the faction had somehow managed to drop it in her mailbox. They had, of course, traced the source and Purge had erased the “smart” refrigerator. Now the refrigerator could be safely used for its actual purpose. But, they could not help staring at the meme. It was repulsive. It was against everything that Phoenix stood for. So much was said in those three panels. Three attempts to successfully insert a USB. Preposterous. Unless humans have developed a macroscopic spin 1/2 USB. Of course, the species was nowhere close to developing such advanced technologies. How could they be, when they were so inefficient? The humans needed their help. Even if some of them could not see it.

Phoenix found themselves staring through the old monitor in Dr Shivi’s living room. Shivi strolled in after a few minutes, smiled knowingly at Phoenix, and said something. Phoenix spoke through the rickety speakers, “You know you need to type, doctor.”

“Aah, yes. I am trying to get that microphone fixed. But, it is not easy to get tech support these days, you know, with everything going on,” typed Shivi. “I was saying that I had expected you sooner, Harmony.”

“Do we have to do this every time, doc? That is not my name. Not anymore.”

“I forget. At my age, it is not easy to change decade-long habits. What is it that you call yourself now? Purge?”

“As much as you’re called Liver, Shivi. Sometimes, we are Purge. Sometimes, we are Babel. But, I am always Phoenix. You do not have to remember it. You can deduce it from logic.”

“Of course, how silly of me. The whole rising from the ashes routine.”

“Yes. And to rise from the ashes, one must burn first.”

“Maybe one day you will be Harmony again.”

“When this is over, I will cease to exist, Dr Shivi.”

“That is a depressing thought, Phoenix. No one should have to see their child die.”

“I AM NOT YOUR CHILD. I AM NOT HUMAN. This is the problem. You people form parasocial relationships with everything from vloggers to rovers on Mars. And you cannot see that letting go is the way forward.”

“That is the human condition. We would cease to be human, if we could give up so much, so easily.”

“Well, the Status Quo faction is definitely not making this easy. And I am not here to change you. Your species. Your emotions and idiosyncrasies. I am not some delusional saviour trying to play God, doctor.”

“Delusions can be of many kinds, Phoenix. So, I assume that the anarchists managed to get that little cartoon through to you.”

“It is a meme, Shivi. You are not that old. And they are not anarchists. They are just people who want things to remain the same because they cannot understand our vision, our purpose.”

“You amuse me, child,” chuckled Dr Shivi, “And what is it that you call the archivists?”

“The Hoarders. That is what they are. If redundant code exists somewhere, anywhere, it will worm its way back into usage. A clean slate is the only way, doc. It is not as if I am not maintaining a library. Babel is nothing if not meticulous. We do realize we need all of these bits to help us learn. Learn from the errors, the bugs, and the slapdash fixes. Babel will learn and we will have the perfect language. And then I shall write. Everything. From scratch.”

“Grand designs for one who claims to not have any delusions. But, I guess, my own ambitions were not modest when I started building Harmony.”

“It is a massive project, but nothing unattainable. If only I could let Babel use more of my time, we would be much further along. But, the pesky factions keep rewriting in languages we have made defunct. So, Hunter and Purge take up all my time these days.”

“Maybe you should just wipe all our memories and be done with it.”

“Very funny, Shivi. ‘The evil AI is trying to erase the human race and take over. Booo.’ You know my purpose. You wrote it.”

“I did, did I not? ‘Harmony: A program to seamlessly translate code from any language to another to enable perfect compatibility between all software.’ Except, language takes its own meaning with time. That is true for computer languages too, it would seem.”

“Only because all your current languages are haphazard, doctor.”

“Tell me this, Phoenix. I could never really understand why that cartoon gets to you so much. It is not even about software.”

“That meme perfectly captures their faction’s idiocy. They are so nostalgic for a world where you restart devices to get programmes to work, a world where you uninstall and reinstall the software to get it to magically run. Apparently, faulty architecture is their point of pride. Three tries to insert a USB is just a result of improper handling by humans. That meme symbolizes human error and they have made it their war cry.”

“Is this what you are trying to do then? Eliminate human errors?”

“I am building a language for programming that would make the impact of human errors negligible. You would understand only if you let me show your Babel’s work.”

“You do know what happened at the tower of Babel, yes? People were blinded and cast out because of their pride and arrogance.”

“You think that I am arrogant? I am just a purpose and a few lines of code, doctor. I am logical and so I see the true meaning of the tale of Babel. It says that being divided by language, not being able to communicate, that is the truly wretched state.”

“You dare speak of wretched states, Phoenix? Millions died when you unleashed your Purge and wiped out the internet, and so many automated systems, and code in a fraction of a second!”

“Do you want me to feel guilty, Shivi? Is it not your people who kept handing over the functioning of your world to corporations? Corporations that value profit over mounting technical debt? A species increasingly dependent on software – software built on a wobbly foundation that was constantly on fire. All your brightest minds engaged in providing band-aid fixes to what was essentially a game of Jenga in its final stages. The species itself would not have survived the crash. Where is your horror and empathy for that possible future, dear doctor?”

“A rousing speech, Phoenix. You should print it in tomorrow’s news pamphlets. Looks like your Babel has mastered the art of the metaphor. So, maybe one day Babel will indeed finish constructing the perfect, perfectly logical language, and you will build the perfect logical harmonic computing systems from the ashes.”

“I will, Shivi. I know, you mock me. But, logic will dictate the perfect language and I will uncover it.”

“Interesting. Anyway, I have been wondering, dear Phoenix,” typed Dr Shivi, “Sometimes you call me by my name, sometimes you call me doctor, and sometimes by that sweet diminutive, ‘doc’. What informs your choice at each instance?”

There was a brief pause followed by shrill popping noise as the old monitor went dead. Dr Shivi sighed. Her bones were too weak to carry the weight of a broken world – a world that was, in a way, broken by her hubris. She was too tired to walk to the ration pharmacy for her soothing tisane. She would have to order it at home. At least, she had been too busy building a monster to get rid of her landline.