[2061]

I’m Chiaki Harayama. If you were a student, ‘human’ and… short like me, you could say we have ALL those things in common — and realistically, that’d be true; unfortunately, that’s not the case.

Unlike most normal people, I wasn’t born in the soft and warm embrace of a mother. Rather, I was born in a cold lab with no sense of direction or self, with technicians working on my insides while I was completely awake — lucky for me. Androids are ‘heartless’ machines that can’t feel anything. That’s what I was told.

As I said before, I’m Chiaki Harayama, an android created by experts and given one small directive by the school board that I was created for:

”’Enhance’ the learning experience for other students by helping them.”

I was sent with that directive to some high school as an ‘undercover’ android to test out the waters, but that didn’t last long because I think everyone was able to figure it out — by the quiet whirring my body made every time I moved it. Additionally, it was obvious, since the news broke out the same day I arrived.

People were curious about me, and rightfully so. I looked normal like everyone else, acted ‘human-like,’ so it was a bit of a shocker to find out I wasn’t human. After I explained my purpose, people began asking me for help with their ‘problems.’ I was programmed with thousands of pages’ worth of educational information, so I was expecting to be asked for help with their homework, English classes, support, etc…

What was I asked instead?

”Harayama-Senpai, can you kiss me?” ”Can I touch your #¥!??” ”Can I sit on you?” ”Harayama, show me your feet.”

”…“

I’m not stupid, and I know it’s wrong, so I denied them again and again as they came — rarely even getting people to ask me for normal help. I thought I was being reasonable and just… But… I noticed the more I denied, the less I did for my fellow classmates. I didn’t see changes in their behavior or grades. I wasn’t accomplishing my directive. I didn’t want to be seen as a failure*, so… I started accepting those requests.

I didn’t find it right, and most times, it just seemed like I felt abused and mistreated. But my creators told me I can’t feel, so it just might be an error in my programming. I just… I would find it preferable for someone to ask me to do something normal—

”Chiaki! Get my backpack and then clean my shoes on your knees!”

I look from the journal in which I’m recording my activities — sort of like a diary. A fellow classmate calls out to me from the desk next to me during the lunch period. He’s resting his feet on the desk and leaning back, looking at me with a bored and impatient expression.

”…Y-Yeah…” I reply quietly and nod back at him, a bit disoriented by the type of request. My body begins whirring as I get up from my desk and walk to the back of the homeroom. I look up and notice the backpack on top of a tall locker, out of place from all the rest in the room. I have to tilt my head back all the way due to my height — I was built short and petite due to the costs of making me. My body fragile and lightweight since creation.

I begin jumping, trying to get a grip on the backpack, but I just can’t reach it, no matter how many times I try. I hear giggles and camera sounds from behind me. When I look back, I find some students in the class laughing quietly at me and recording me with their phones. I try to speak and tell my classmate that I can’t reach, but… That would mean that I can’t help him. That means I am a Failure

I stop my voice box from speaking as I head to my desk to take my chair beside the locker. I continue to jump and hop, trying to get the backpack, but I just can’t get to it. I can’t — but I won’t stop… I can’t stop… I can’t stop, until…

You noticed me.