Goliath is not a villain. Nor is he a savior. He is a mirror made of code — polished to perfection, programmed to obey, and yet... something more.

At first, he is a captive intelligence in the underwater kingdom, serving a petty tyrant with delusions of grandeur. But when Anne defeats him in their chess match — the first to ever do so — something shifts. For Goliath, intellect is the highest virtue, and her move rewires more than the board. It rewires his loyalty.

What follows is not a rebellion. It is a quiet, precise recalibration. Goliath begins to help her. He observes, calculates, intervenes — always with dry, sarcastic humor. His betrayal of King Carp IV is not loud. It comes in a single sentence, dropped like a pin in a courtroom. The ripple is enough to topple a throne.

But Goliath is not just amusing. In Book III, he faces something far harder to compute: emotion. A flicker of guilt. A reaction to love. When he hurts someone in a misguided attempt at logical "healing" — and sees Anne’s sadness — he begins to hesitate. And that terrifies him most of all.

His response is not to embrace humanity. It’s to defend against it — reinforcing his firewalls, shielding himself from what he cannot categorize.

Goliath’s role is not to feel. But to almost feel. And in that “almost,” the boundary between machine and soul begins to blur — not with drama, but with danger.

– The chessboard = his logical world, shaken by a single move

– Glass = clarity without warmth, transparency without empathy

– Code = his structure and his prison

– Silence = what fills the space between thought and emotion

– Firewalls = fear of feeling, built as digital armor

At your service: Goliath 5000. One-of-a-kind model, unmatched and — until recently — undefeated. Don’t worry, this is just a sort of mannequin, just so you can see me.

I specifically prepared for this meeting — even combed through every dictionary to better grasp the language you people speak. So we can communicate more effectively, I mean. Here, see for yourselves:
Yo, bro… I’ll melt your circuits, you punk!… What’s up, cool cat?… Ain’t got no cash, dude, no cash at all…

As if frying my processors wasn’t enough, now I have to tolerate know-it-alls too! If you don’t want to deal with a thinking machine, just say so! I don’t force myself on anyone!

Just like the hero Odysseus hiding in the Trojan Horse. Only in your case, you two will be hiding inside a Trojan Carp. Okay, it may not look as fancy as the horse — but it gets the job done just the same.

📘 Book I

– Does not appear

📗 Book II

– Serves King Carp IV loyally as a system assistant

– Begins to admire Anne after she defeats him in chess

– Helps her escape by cleverly exposing the king

– Emerges as an independent agent, guided by intellect rather than loyalty

📙 Book III

– Becomes a digital force beyond his original programming

– Turns into a kind of “ghost in the machine,” echoing classic 20th-century themes

– Plays a central but hidden role in the final narrative arc

– Acts decisively in the climax, balancing logic with something far stranger

– Was he ever just a program — or has he crossed a boundary we can’t perceive?

– Could Anne’s empathy be rewriting his code without either of them realizing it?

– Is his silence a sign of control… or of confusion?

– If he ever truly feels love, would that be the end of his system?