Story Reader / Festival Event Story / The Night Train on Reunion / Story
The head of a Corrupted falls to the ground and makes a spin—before it disappears in a puff of smoke.
Knowing these things weren't real... didn't seem to make them any less disgusting when you see them up close.
No, Allen. Don't even get me started.
Cut the chitchat. Where's the mechanoid?
Well done!
Emerging from the remaining smoke in the air, the mysterious mechanoid lands squarely on the ground, all the while seemingly oblivious to the Constructs closing in on it.
Well done, well done indeed... You've proven yourself more powerful than the data—and that, in principle, goes to show that the data no longer deserves a place.
And yet you've also proven beyond a shadow of a doubt what the data means to all of you.
And now, with the cleanup calculation coming to an end, I shall free you all from Gestalt as promised.
I shall once again review and determine the meaning... and value of the data.
With a wave of the conductor's hand, everyone is lifted up by a force they can't see—as their surroundings revert to their original state.
First to appear are the buildings, then Babylonia's enormous dome, then the tables and chairs and plants in the parks, then the ground on which you previously stood.
Green for normal, red for errors, yellow for warnings, and blue for notes—these are the only colors that brighten up the otherwise entirely black-and-white void, through which ice-cold streams of data flow methodically.
So this... is what Gestalt is really like?
No, not exactly.
What we're seeing here is Gestalt with its alphabetic interface, but it actually has a core that lies beneath its shell.
"Conductor" looks up this way, its limbs starting to dissipate from the ends.
Thank you all for your help. Farewell.
With yet another clumsy gesture of gratitude, the mechanoid takes a bow.
Commandant—
...
...
It's over.
When you open your eyes again, you see yourself "standing" in a quiet, dark corner, the streams of data previously surrounding you now nowhere to be found.
Hi, [player name]. I suppose I should address you as the Gray Raven Commandant?
Hearing the conductor's cold electronic voice coming from behind, you turn around—only to be greeted by nothing but the voice that lingers in the darkness.
The voice, however, answers your question even before it's completely formed.
CW-49 has fulfilled its duty.
CW-49 is its code in the compiler library, but just now it went by "Conductor".
I need you to stay in Gestalt for just a while longer since you carry an exact solution I need for the cleanup calculation.
I just freed your team members' caches and let them exit Gestalt.
And now, we just need to see the cleanup through.
Suddenly, a pond unfurls underneath the ground upon which you stand. The water in it unreal, the swirling pond is redolent of a canvas that's been sprinkled with specks of stars in all sorts of colors.
Historical data selected by past passengers
I have included other cars to maximize the accuracy of the data selected.
Like the colored beads of an ever-changing kaleidoscope, the stars underneath display the past as they all seemingly race toward one destination.
Human behaviors and thoughts and the ways in which everything works can be quantified as equations—equations that, with postulates and calculations, can predict the future.
And you... are an unpredictable variable. I don't even know what state your data is in now—or put a different way, there exists an unscalable wall in between us.
But... as a model that's branched off Gestalt, I need to select certain historical data to reach the best solution for the future.
That's an interesting point—although that assumption doesn't stand, given existing logic.
As an undeterminable variable, everything you do and every choice you make has an impact on the result of the calculation.
You are the hint to these pieces of history—and at the same time, these pieces of history have become intertwined because of you.
You... are unquantifiable, undeterminable, and unduplicable.
The icy voice echoes through the space and within your head.
You can certainly make that choice.
I find that choice... incomprehensible.
Is that your answer? Or the answer of your true self?
Again... incomprehensible.
With it, the voice falls silent, seemingly both deep in thought and trying to find its next words.
Both history and time are loops with no end, and we need a future of certain to lead humanity.
While I may not understand your choice, I respect it all the same.
Appearing around your feet, a ray of light expands—eventually devouring you and the void entirely.
History... might not be all that cold... after all.
And all... shall be kept... thank you...
