Story Reader / Main Story / 15 The Last Spark / Story

You look out, and the city is gone. The horizon reverts to a flat plane, the top of the six spires now tiny dots, barely noticeable. Even the tallest main city is fully submerged, save for the roof of the observatory.

The wind howls, and the waves rumble.

With one hand on her banner spear, Vera half-kneels, half-sits on the floor.

She was going to overpower Lamia and subdue her, whatever it took to drag her back to the control panel, so she could force her to disable the submergence command.

But Lamia still ran away in the end.

All Vera feels now is tiredness and frustration.

How strange she was willing to go this far, she thinks to herself. Uncharacteristically, she does not have an answer immediately. This is very unlike her—she has not been this apprehensive for a long time.

She has protected her target and retrieved the objective. She did not need to spend the extra effort in this place, and yet.

What is done is done. She is too proud to need an explanation for her actions.

A conqueror does not justify herself. Everything is instinctual.

Suddenly, the loud whirring sound of engines appears in the distant sky.

Struggling, Vera looks up and finds a tiny black dot approaching—a transport craft, but not one of Kurono's.

It is a Babylonia transport craft, with the logo of Gray Raven on its wings.

Just like the first time when the city started sinking, this one is also earth-shattering.

For a second, it no longer is a graveyard.

The ocean has cleansed it of its malady. Underneath the sun now stands the lighthouse of human civilization from eons past.

Vera closes her eyes.

She recalls a way to measure time she once heard.

The universe is 13.8 billion years old. If you compress this period of time into 12 months, then the history of humankind begins on the last night of the year.

On that last night, which is 3.5 million years ago, the first hominin stood up, and instead of looking at the earth, it looked to the stars.

It takes 60 seconds from humans understanding seasons by observing the stars to the first astronaut planting his flag on the moon.

And humankind's current obstacle, the Punishing Virus, is but a blip in the grand scheme of things.

She can almost see the woman's figure against the glare of the sun. She reaches out a hand.

She can almost touch it, the world a second in the future.

Like the astronaut on Apollo 11 planting his flag on the moon, Vera plants her banner spear by her side.

It is an act of ancient, primal instinct, claiming her territory.

When their first ship entered orbit, they declared earth theirs.

When their flag was planted on the moon, they declared the moon theirs.

Humans will not stop conquering.

Centuries after humans conquered the moon, those from Babylonia...

...They have "conquered" earth again.

One more thing. This is just my view and some guesses. I didn't want to leave it in this recording at first.

But a good, educated guess is no less valuable than a clear conclusion.

Unfortunately, I don't have time to prove its validity. So I'll leave it to you, seekers of tomorrow.

Maybe this will help your work.

I've been thinking about the "logic" behind the Punishing Virus' appearance. I doubt the zero-point energy itself could create the virus.

There are no laws of physics that support this emergence.

There is a logic to every species and their place in the natural order.

Sheep keep the amount of grass in check. Predators keep the number of sheep in check.

What about the Punishing Virus? What role does it play in this order?

As far as we can tell, the zero-point energy is a crucial condition for the Punishing Virus' existence.

But, personally, I prefer the theory that zero-point energy opened a pathway instead of creating the virus.

The zero-point reactor is a product of extremely complicated, advanced physics and mathematics.

On the other hand, the more advanced the technology is, the more susceptible it is to the Punishing Virus.

That is to say, a primitive civilization wouldn't have a chance to encounter it.

The Punishing Virus wouldn't have crawled out of a furnace or a steam engine.

Even if they did encounter it, as long as there was no electricity or digital devices, the Punishing Virus wouldn't have made a dent.

The logical conclusion is obvious: the Punishing Virus targets highly advanced civilizations.

It grows in a civilization like a parasite to keep it in check. And if the civilization is too sick to heal, it dies.

That's right, an old cliche—the great filter of civilizations.

I don't have any proof, obviously. I haven't observed any other civilizations that were hit by the Punishing Virus. Our only sample is humankind.

But maybe you'll have the chance to go further. So jot down this guess in your notes. I'll be very happy if it inspires you somehow.

Shadows fall, the night is long, but the dawn will come.

Go see the dawn for us.

Finally-finally—

If everything we've done was wrong, then I think our only mistake is our own weakness.

Living things reproduce. Civilizations expand.

Since a monkey climbed down the tree two million years ago, humankind has been climbing up the food chain.

We climbed with our hands and teeth at first.

Then it was fire and spears.

Steam engines, combustion engines, generators, computers...

We were on top of the earth's food chain, so we started reaching for the stars.

We take skin and flesh from animals, and we take resources from nature.

We take energy from the sun, the wind, the tides... We take, and we take, our hunger boundless, just to feed our civilization.

To go further, we built Babylonia.

But traveling across galaxies requires a power source greater than everything that has kickstarted an Industrial Revolution in the past.

So we tried to surpass the sun and control zero-point energy.

It might seem that everything is destroyed now because of it, but we will not bemoan our involvement.

We only regret that we have not completely conquered it.

This will be my last journal entry. To the seekers of tomorrow—

March on. Do not look back. Do not stop. Do not regret. March on.

Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should burn and rave at close of day;

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

—The last journal of Lustrous.