Story Reader / Main Story / 34 Dream till the Timeless End / Story
World Government Association of Art
9:30
Babylonia
In her private studio, Ayla grabs her wrist and tears herself away from the canvas.
It's not because of her sketch, but a sense that something is wrong.
[player name], are you alright...?
Ayla's voice fades in and out. Sweat covers your body as you focus on your own condition instead of the canvas.
Your consciousness jumps up and down until it finally restores the edges of your form, stabilizing you.
...These are very clear symptoms of overexertion. The test shows no other problems, so I won't give you any meds. Rest is the most effective. Take some time off, if you can.
The Star of Life doctor continuously scrolls through the test reports on the screen, offering reassurance.
It's not overwork or fatigue.
Neither mental nor physical exhaustion would cause a reaction like this.
"Despite your ravages..."
"My lover shall be young forever in my poetry."
Something's wrong. Is it the sounds I'm hearing? Or the images I'm seeing?
You look up again. The blank face on the canvas shifts in your vision and seems tangible and elusive at the same time.
You take out fresh writing paper the moment you close the cabinet.
Your motion is fluid, as if closing the mail cabinet and writing a reply to someone is a habit, instinct, a natural consequence of countless repetitions.
But as pen meets paper, discomfort makes your hand freeze. Even though you already know the opening lines and just need to write them down.
There's an emotion that "I" have forgotten but my body remembers.
[player name]...
Ayla's voice becomes a bit clearer. She's reaching out to "me," showing concern for "me." The emotion and care in her tone help define "my" sense of self.
The emotional experience fades. Things lie on the chopping board of rationality. Just as the blade of scrutiny is about to fall, they struggle to take concrete form again.
Something "I" don't know about is happening. "My" perception has blind spots—the problem is with "me."
I'm fine, Commandant. It's just that I... just had a strange feeling just now...
It felt... a little weird...
No... perhaps the problem isn't just with "me," but with us—with some larger concept altogether.
You reach the conclusion and your spirit and flesh become calm again. The unknown is the ultimate fear—yet when trouble shows its tip on the ocean surface, past experiences become the best sedative.
No disturbance of consciousness can shake a Commandant on active duty.
You abruptly look up, sweat dripping down your face. Your gaze fixes on Ayla.
Yes.
...Sure.
You pull out your terminal to book a session at the Star of Life while explaining to a confused Ayla, who trusts your judgment.
This canvas triggered it again, didn't it?
What did you see? Or rather, what did you remember?
You raise your right hand toward Ayla, your fingertips still stained with paint from the canvas.
Your body reacted before you noticed... I see.
However... it would make more sense if it only triggered hallucinations.
But this time, you were unconsciously compelled to act, suggesting the stimulus is stronger and affecting you more deeply.
Ayla puts down her camera and steps back to look at the canvas, only to realize something isn't right.
But this painting is inspired by scenes from my own M.I.N.D...
You hand over your terminal with a blank medical appointment form for Ayla to verify.
Star of Life
10:20
Babylonia
The pristine white decor and scent of antiseptic create a reassuring atmosphere for every visitor.
You arrive at the Star of Life with Ayla and spot several familiar faces before you even reach the reception.
I usually wouldn't say this, but since I've seen it, I have to say, you've crossed a line.
The Star of Life is a place for healing and saving lives, not a tool for covering up your messes.
Of course, I completely agree. Where else in Babylonia could you find a cleaner place than this?
But what we're doing is also a form of treatment. Some troubles on the surface can be fixed with a bit of money, but if it happens in space...
Collins taps his foot on the floor, his tone overflowing with a sincerity that seems to come from the heart.
That's not a sight anyone would want to see.
...Medical practice requires a license, and treatments must follow proper protocols.
Of course. Everything we're doing is within the scope of medical protocols.
Collins' smile stays intact as he passes the conversation to the man behind him.
...
...
The silence lasts only a few seconds before Hippocrates reluctantly hands over what appears to be an official notice, which Asimov takes and signs.
You know about this?
...Yes and no. They moved too quickly.
Asimov hesitates, as if wanting to explain something, but just lets out a sigh.
You know, I've never been able to figure out how they think, and I don't want to waste time trying. But I'll keep a closer eye from now on.
If you say so.
Let's go, Attending Physician Collins. I'll show you Babylonia's illness.
You must be joking. Hasn't he already been cleared? I'm here to offer condolences and compensation.
To show his sincerity, Collins produces a basket of gifts, with the most expensive item being an anonymous credit chip nestled among the flowers.
Hippocrates responds with a grunt, shoves his hands back into his pockets, and turns to leave.
The two walk away while Asimov remains still.
[player name]?
Startled, Asimov looks up and tucks his pen back into his collar. His tone shows mild irritation.
A minor issue with the Science Council. The Control Court has taken several researchers in for questioning.
The Control Court? Not Kurono?
They're involved, but they weren't the cause.
Asimov pauses briefly, thinking about whether to explain further.
Discrepancies between the actual results and what was reported were found for a project at one of the Science Council's research institutions.
So the Control Court intervened under counter-espionage and confidentiality breach regulations.
But Kurono doesn't see it that way. They've interpreted the Control Court's crackdown on the Science Council as a premeditated collaboration.
I don't understand... Why would Kurono interpret the Control Court's attack as cooperation?
...How exactly does this all relate? The reasoning seems a bit off.
Because this isn't the first time. Kurono secretly interfering with Science Council research projects is nothing new.
The Control Court and Science Council responding to or retaliating against such actions is also common. I don't like getting involved in these political games, but...
Asimov's brows furrow together, showing he's deep in thought.
To prove their innocence, they started treating all involved researchers as criminals during interrogations.
The worst suffered severe psychological trauma that the Control Court's own medical team couldn't handle, so they transferred them to the Star of Life.
Sounds very much like they were trying to destroy evidence.
That's what I thought, too, but Kurono released recordings of the entire process.
This time they are genuinely innocent, so of course they made a point of being open about the investigation.
Besides, this incident was very unusual.
Asimov's expression grows increasingly serious as he delves into the details.
There was a glaring, inexplicable gap in the project's research progression.
Like a skyscraper that appeared out of thin air.
The project's latest technology had already been implemented on several frames and even deployed on a small scale, yet the most recent batch of experimental results was only produced last month.
But the earlier derivation process and prototype technologies seem to have vanished.
...Did they not notice anything unusual?
No. The project members' reactions to this question were so consistent they seemed more like a rehearsed performance than a coordinated cover-up.
Complete ignorance, bewilderment, and excuses—even the sequence of their reactions was nearly identical across the board.
Asimov's brow furrows even deeper.
This left every investigator confused, so they drew the simplest conclusion—that the researchers sold their findings and then falsified their progress reports.
This is another point the investigation fails to explain. Something must have gone wrong, but neither the Control Court nor Kurono have given me time to figure it out.
It's simple—without one, there cannot be two. Without materials and a manufacturing process, there will not be a finished product.
Asimov's words coherently connect several abstract concepts.
Hm?
You pull out the letters you discovered in the cabinet.
It sounds a bit far-fetched, but...
...Looks like you've run into trouble as well.
That's why [player name] and I came to the Star of Life.
Asimov, does this project have any connection to the WGAA?
I don't know your situation, but this project has nothing to do with the WGAA.
It's military research, primarily for the battlefield. They study Tenebrion energy, which you should know about.
Asimov pauses for a moment before continuing.
The project's official codename is <color=#ff4e4eff>Abess</color>. Its predecessor was a research institution from the Golden Age called the Abess Research Institute.
Does what happened to you have anything to do with this name?
You exchange a look with Ayla, both shaking your heads.
"H0584, [player name]. RS0585, Ayla, please proceed to window twenty-seven."
Ayla is about to say something when a cold electronic voice sounds in the lobby. It's their scheduled consultation.
