The cradle rocks above an abyss,
and common sense tells us,
that our existence is but a brief crack of light between two eternities of darkness.
—"Speak, Memory"
Wandering through the darkness, she
There, fervor was the dominant theme of what they had called family.
It all began with the madness known as Project Herald.
Christina, what's buried there is the seed of civilization.
Your father went on a great mission.
You must follow his path, trace his footsteps, and bring back his legacy.
Only Dominik, only Dominik... can lead humanity back to Earth.
Christina Norman had never seen Dominik in person.
Whenever Charles spoke to her about such things, a single question would always linger in her mind:
According to the books, he was the founder and Chief Technician of the Science Council, the pioneer of Gestalt design theory, the proposer of cold fusion theory and its practical application, and the creator of the first strong AI machine...
Leveraging cold fusion, he had dragged humanity out of the Great Depression, facilitated the rise of the World Government, and ushered in the Golden Age.
They called Dominik a hero.
Oh, just another hero—or rather, the very first.
But the hero died.
He vanished without a trace inside Reactor One.
The legacy of the dead became a trophy to be fought over, and the fallen hero demanded a successor.
And so, "Dominik's successor" was born out of necessity.
Successor to Dominik, yet property of Norman Mining Corp.
What a complete joke.
Dominik wasn't even a Norman.
What are you talking about?
...Nothing.
Keep such thoughts to yourself... At least within these walls.
Alright, I'll keep that in mind.
A sigh escaped Edward in the lavish living room, a quiet lament for the unfair hand fate had dealt his daughter.
I know that you...
After a long hesitation, the rest of his sentence died on his lips.
Father, are they also sending you to the surface for Project Herald?
Yes... they are.
Lowering himself to a crouch, Edward offered Christina a gently forced smile.
When I come back, you'll be free. You can be anyone you want to be.
But... none of the previous Heralds ever came back...
I will come back. I promise you, my little Teddy.
With those words, Edward departed, drawn away by the urgent calls from beyond the door.
He never came back.
The Norman family held a symbolic funeral for Edward.
It did not rain that day. Babylonia's weather cycle rarely allocated precipitation, and the world certainly did not orchestrate convenient rainfall for every moment of grief.
So when tears streaked Christina's face, she had no rainfall to blame them on.
She had believed herself too composed to cry. She was convinced, in fact, that she had not shed a single tear.
She simply stared, blank and unseeing, at the gravestone—a purely symbolic marker that didn't even hold her father's personal effects.
It was only when Leonardo, standing beside her, gently pointed it out that she realized her vision had blurred, her eyes welling with a grief she had refused to acknowledge.
Christina turned to look at her brother.
She had expected to find him in tears, but Leonardo was dry-eyed.
He only revealed a sorrowful gaze, his vacant eyes containing nothing but grief.
Nothing but grief.
Across the grounds, Christina and Leonardo caught a distant glimpse of Victoria.
Their younger sister stood beside Charles Norman.
It was too far away for her expression to be clear.
After a brief moment of eye contact, Victoria and Charles departed from the funeral.
Following suit, the other mourners gradually dispersed.
In the quiet that settled in their wake, Christina overheard the whispered conversations of the nearby guests.
I always said Edward lacked the nerve for a true legacy. It seems I was right.
Did you hear? One of the Norman cousins... Oakley, I believe her name was? She simply couldn't stomach Project Herald. Had a terrible fight with her family and fled Babylonia altogether.
Hah... Can't say I blame her.
Project Herald... Absolute madness. The Normans aren't forging a legacy; they're digging their own grave.
The mourners drifted away until only Christina and Leonardo remained by the graveside.
Aren't you going to leave?
...
I'm going to shut down Project Herald. I won't let any more lives be thrown away for nothing.
...
It won't be easy, but I swear, I will do everything I can.
Christina remained silent, having no desire to respond.
Soon, only the young girl was left at the funeral.
Standing alone, she suddenly felt as though she were wandering through an endless darkness.
...
Wandering through the darkness, she
She
From behind the glass, the black-haired director of the Third Dark Room watched, a knot of anxiety tightening in his chest.
On the other side, the woman on the operating table writhed, her agonizing screams continuing unabated despite the frantic efforts of the doctors circling her.
Push! That's it, I can see the head! Almost there!
Aaggghhh!!!
The head's out! Take a deep breath. Good. Don't push now!
Waah!
The infant's cries echoed through the operating room, announcing her arrival into the world.
It's over. You've done well.
Once the umbilical cord was cut, the doctor moved in to whisk the newborn away for its initial examination.
Behind the glass, the man released a long, relieved sigh.
Let me... see her...
Before the woman's request could be granted, the doctors discovered something unusual.
Blood loss is excessive! She's not clotting!
He immediately decided to act.
It's a postpartum hemorrhage. Get the crash cart!
A sudden tension gripped the operating room, and the man watched as the medic's movements shifted into urgent, purposeful bursts.
Uterine atony. Administer oxytocin.
Oxytocin ineffective. Prepare for uterine packing.
Mr. Yan... I'm sorry. We did everything we could.
A look of bewilderment dawned in the man's eyes.
Everything you could? What do you mean?
There's a little time left. You should go in. Now.
A hint of compassion tinged the doctor's voice.
Yan Zhen entered the operating room. His gaze immediately found his wife's pale, exhausted face.
Claire...
She was barely clinging to life.
Zhen... let me see her...
At Yan Zhen's signal, the doctor brought their newborn daughter close.
Claire's eyes locked onto the baby, and she struggled to lift a hand, her strength abandoning her.
Seeing this, Yan Zhen gently cupped his wife's hand and guided it to their daughter's cheek.
Her... eyes... they're just like... yours...
My little... Moineau...
My... Xiaoyu...
The light in her eyes faded away.
Why...
Why did she bleed out like that?
Edward asked in the Star of Life's corridor, his voice thick with bewilderment.
The moment the words left his mouth, he recognized their futility.
How's my wife now?
He tried again, only to realize he'd asked another futile question.
I'm sorry... We were only able to save the baby.
Edward's gaze drifted back to where Christina and Leonardo waited, and a wave of helplessness washed over him. How could he possibly tell his children?
There's something else you should know...
It's about the baby's condition...
What's wrong with her?!
It's a very rare condition called Severe Combined Immunodeficiency.
SCID? But that's treatable, isn't it? A bone marrow transplant is all we need.
The doctor looked at the director of the Third Dark Room, and a pang of cruelty shot through him at the thought of what he had to say.
...Normally, yes. But her variant is a rare mutation. The standard curative protocols... they're ineffective...
Her T-cells and B-cells are non-functional. It's a complete systemic failure. She has no adaptive immune system. No defense against any pathogen—bacterial, viral, fungal...
So... you're telling me... her entire life will be spent in a sterile room?
The doctor turned his face away, every ounce of his focus bent on forming a reply.
...Yes.
What are you studying today?
I'm reading "Elementary Particle Physics".
And you can comprehend the material?
I'm managing.
Charles' brow furrowed suddenly.
"Managing" is not the standard for Dominik's successor!
You must comprehend it completely!
This is the only way.
This is the only way...
I'm so sorry, Moineau.
Inside the sterile room, the air filtration system hummed its ceaseless, faint hymn.
Four-year-old Moineau fought to keep the sadness from her face.
Fortunately, she was gifted with a mind far beyond her years.
It allowed her to understand the guilt in the man's words.
It's alright. I understand.
She pressed her tiny hand against the glass.
Staring at that small, delicate palm, Yan Zhen crumbled, collapsing to his knees.
With trembling hands, he placed his own palm against the partition, desperate to feel the warmth of Moineau's hand.
But all that met his skin was the cold, unyielding glass.
I'm so sorry...
I'm so sorry...
What happened to Mother wasn't your fault.
Christina offered soft comforts to the weeping man before her.
Unfortunately, she was gifted with a mind far beyond her years.
She understood the grim statistics of childbirth all too well.
And so she chose to lock her grief away.
It was as if her soul had risen above her body, looking down on the tableau of sorrow—
Her anguished father,
her mourning brother,
and her grandfather with eyes squeezed shut.
From that cold vantage point, a single, ill-timed thought formed:
Years from now, would she completely forget what it felt like to be held in her mother's arms?
What does an embrace feel like?
What did you say?
Yan Zhen stopped typing, turning his gaze to Moineau.
She then pointed to the book in her hand by Camus and recited a line.
"But there are no limits to loving, and what does it matter to me if I hold things badly if I can embrace everything?"
Dad, what does an embrace feel like?
Yan Zhen was stunned, at a loss for words.
An embrace feels like...
It feels like eternity. It's like, for that one moment, nothing else exists or will ever end.
Was it like that when you held Mom in your arms?
A gentle smile touched Yan Zhen's lips, his eyes brimming with tender longing.
Yes. Exactly like that.
Then I want to embrace you, too, Dad!
That's...
Disappointment crossed Moineau's face.
Is it not allowed?
Yes, of course you can.
Half an hour later, Yan Zhen cautiously entered the sterile room. Having undergone three separate sterilization procedures, he was sheathed in a transparent isolation suit.
He moved with a gentle, deliberate care, fearful of causing even the slightest infection in Moineau's fragile state.
When he offered an awkward embrace, she melted into it, allowing herself to believe, just for a moment, that everything could indeed become eternal.
Nothing is eternal.
And becoming a Construct is the answer? You think that's "eternal"?
...
Sometimes, talking to you is exhausting.
Wow, straight to the icy reception.
I guess I shouldn't be surprised. It's hard to compete with the family prodigy.
A playful, exaggerated grin spread across Leonardo's face.
It vanished the moment he caught Christina's cold, expressionless stare from across the room, and his demeanor sobered instantly.
I'm not here to stop you. I suppose you've already run the Tantalum-193 compatibility test.
It's just...
Can't you just wait a little longer? You're still so young.
Wait until...
Wait until when?
Wait for a cure that doesn't exist?!
You...
Yan Zhen rose angrily, but his leg buckled beneath him. He caught himself, his hand flying to his thigh in a gesture of pure frustration.
...
I'm sorry, Dad.
I just... want to know what the outside is like.
A sigh escaped Yan Zhen as he slumped his shoulders.
The world outside isn't what you imagine, Moineau. It hasn't been for years, not since the Punishing Virus...
Sigh, let me start from the beginning. I'll tell you what the Punishing Virus is first.
This is our reality now. The World Government has retreated to Babylonia, hiding behind its walls.
Then... what about us? How long can this Dark Room base last?
A note of panic crept into Moineau's voice. Never once had she imagined the world she'd dreamed of seeing could be considered destroyed.
At our current rate? Four years.
It's a problem I can solve. I will find a way.
...
Don't worry. I still have some influence with the World Government...
If you want to see the outside... you could start by exploring it through the network. How does that sound?
...I'm allowed?
Yes, but carefully. Anonymously is safest. I could teach you the fundamentals.
Your father has a master's in computer science, you know. I learned all this during my doctoral studies, and I was the head of Project [Connection]. Not a bad teacher to have.
Alright! Teach me!
You want to learn programming?
Why?
Just curious about it.
Does the old man know?
He doesn't need to know everything.
With quiet composure, Christina took a sip of red tea before she spoke.
Fine. Well, as it happens, I have something for you. It's a virtual reality rig. You can use it to explore coding environments. I'll bring it over later.
Boring...
A little gratitude wouldn't kill you. I'm trying to help.
How's... Project Herald coming along?
...
The same. Not a single successful candidate in any batch.
I heard that...
Despite his hesitation, he forced himself to speak up.
Father's name might be on the shortlist for the next batch...
I did it, Dad!
I hacked the registry. You're on the list for the next transport to Babylonia.
...Just like that?
Yan Zhen could only stare, utterly stunned.
He was no stranger to his daughter's genius; she had surpassed his own abilities in just two years. Yet, the reality of her successfully hacking Babylonia's registry system was beyond anything he had ever conceived.
I had a lucky break. Their data isn't live-linked to that... Gestalt system. They only do batch updates during scheduled syncs.
You did well...
Dad... when will you come back?
Soon, I hope. Or... it could be a very long time.
When I come back, you'll be free. You can be anyone you want to be.
Why... didn't you come back...
Christina sat on a boundless plain, her gaze fixed on the artificial sun in the distance. The words were a soft murmur, meant for no one but herself.
As Dominik's successor, she was forbidden from showing any weakness; here, in the emptiness of virtual space, was the only place she could retreat to soothe her grief.
Well, well. Didn't expect to find a space like this. Nice view.
A voice suddenly came from behind her.
Who's there?!
Christina whirled around, startled to see a purple-haired woman curiously appraising her virtual space.
Teddy? What a weird ID.
It's not weird at all!
Fine, fine, you win. It's not that bad.
Who are you? Why are you here?
Hmm... Just call me The Unwinged.
I'm just browsing the network. What about you? What's a brat like you doing crying in here?
...I wasn't crying.
Hahaha, whatever you say.
That was the first time they met.
An encounter filled with tension.
Three layers of firewalls, huh... a bit basic.
Oh? Now this trap has some teeth.
Too bad it only caught my zombie.
With effortless ease, The Unwinged bypassed Teddy's defense protocols and entered the virtual space again.
Teddy, however, didn't so much as turn around, continuing to sunbathe as if she were alone.
A beach this time, huh?
Definitely an upgrade from the snowfields.
Shut up, gloomy woman.
The Unwinged pressed her lips.
Don't give me strange nicknames, you snippy little brat.
My name is Moineau.
...Christina.
I brought you a rose.
I can generate roses too, you know.
Teddy raised a single hand, and the data streams coalesced in her palm, slowly weaving themselves into the form of a rose.
Not like this. Ever heard of holographic imaging technology?
Mimicking Teddy's gesture, she raised her right hand. The data streams that appeared in her palm were vastly more numerous and complex.
At the center of this digital storm, a glass-like card solidified into existence.
It has a special property. Simple version? The stored image has true volume. Change your angle, and you see a different side.
The rose inside the glass card appeared incredibly real. With a slight rotation of her wrist, hidden petals came into Teddy's view.
And besides...
The glass card shattered with a sharp crack.
Every piece still holds the whole picture.
Amid the swirling shards in the sky, a thousand roses shimmered in the light.
Yo, I'm back.
Not even a firewall to greet me this time?
What's the point? You'd just tear it down anyway.
Don't be like that. It's good practice for you.
...
As the years passed in a blur of shared experiences, their relationship deepened.
What had begun in wary hostility
gradually became a sanctuary of shared secrets.
For the first time in her life, Teddy found herself with a real friend.
I'll take the Construct modification surgery tomorrow.
Doesn't that hurt like hell?
No.
You're really going through with it?
I wanted to do it years ago, right after my father died.
Oh. Right around when we first met.
Yeah. Leonardo talked me out of it back then.
You actually listened to him?
Teddy rolled her eyes at The Unwinged.
I don't know how he did it, but he actually managed to make the Norman Mining Corp scrap Project Herald.
I'll admit, that was impressive.
I've been gathering intel on the Corp. Blackmail material for the future.
It might take a while, though.
So you can break free from them?
Maybe...
But I suppose that doesn't really matter. It's just trading a small cage for a bigger one.
There's nowhere to truly escape to.
...
It's still better than only knowing one cage.
At least... you'd be able to spread your wings.
The unspoken meaning behind her words landed with Teddy.
Sigh... And what about you, Ms. Doom-and-Gloom?
Me?
What cage are you trapped in?
Haha... who knows? Maybe I'm stuck on the moon or something.
Frustrated by The Unwinged's constant evasiveness, Teddy abandoned subtlety and demanded a straight answer.
When the time comes, I'll leave Babylonia and find you. On the surface.
I never said I was on the surface!
Panic edged The Unwinged's voice as she responded.
We've known each other for years. I'm not an idiot.
...
Moineau. Let's set a time and place. To meet in person.
We'll talk about that later...
When Yan Zhen returned to the Third Dark Room, he was confined to a wheelchair, his hair having turned white. Only his piercing purple eyes remained unchanged.
He brought with him advanced Construct modification technology.
Moineau, do you have any requests for your frame?
Moineau lay on the operating table, gazing at the blinding surgical lights before closing her eyes.
In the darkness, her mind conjured the pink-haired girl from the virtual space.
Could you give me a pair of wings... even if they're broken?
After the modification, would she finally be able to go see her?
When they met again in the virtual space, they took a moment to study each other's frames.
So, you became a Construct, too.
It's just more convenient this way...
I've left Norman Mining Corp.
That bastard Leonardo... he lied to me. Went crawling back to claim his inheritance.
I've already spoken with the Engineering Force. I'm heading to the surface on a mission with them. A trial run, basically.
Doesn't matter. I'll ditch them when it's over and meet you here.
Teddy shared the time and location with The Unwinged.
But her words were met only with The Unwinged's blank stare into the distance.
Hey, did you get all that?
Of course.
Then what's with the thousand-light-year stare?
It's just... hard to believe that crying child from all those years ago has grown up.
Stop talking to me like some wise elder. It's gross.
Moineau stared at the door of the Third Dark Room, drawing a nervous breath.
Then, she stepped outside.
I can smell... grass. It's different from the simulations in virtual space.
For over twenty years, since the moment of her birth, she had been waiting. Now, she was finally taking her first true step into the world.
What kind of world... is this going to be?
Come, see it with your own eyes. Come, feel it with your own hands.
Little bird, you are free.
Spread those broken wings and fly.
The swarm of drones attached to her body unleashed brilliant jets of flame, lifting her from the ground.
Moineau soared skyward, her hair whipping wild in the wind as she felt it rush across her bionic skin.
A smile bloomed across her face.
She leaned forward, adjusting the thrust of her drone wingsuit as she danced through the air.
And then she saw it with her own eyes—
Blood and fire. Ruins and wreckage.
The crimson virus spread across the land.
Something was crumbling.
What kind of world... is this...
Night had already fallen when Moineau returned to the Third Dark Room.
Brushing past the researchers' greetings, she headed to the sterile room that had been her home for over twenty years.
But something was different. Something had changed.
After a long, hazy moment, she realized what it was.
Oh, it's the air conditioning system; the noise is gone.
Of course, it was silent now that she no longer lived there.
The noise that had plagued her for two decades—the sound that had become a part of her—had simply vanished.
This world out here... is it really a good place for her?
She wondered if she should go meet Teddy after all.
The meeting time was fast approaching, yet Moineau remained undecided on how to face Teddy.
Might as well meet her first, I guess...
Dread weighing on her every step, she forced herself toward the meeting point.
Beep beep—
Suddenly, her terminal chirped.
...Dad?
It was Teddy's first time on the surface. She stared, a tumult of feelings stirring within her, at the fresh footprints she had pressed into the soil, a lone disturbance amidst the wild, unburdened weeds.
I can smell... soil. It's different from the simulations in virtual space.
Someone nearby noticed Teddy.
So you're the newbie?
First time on the surface? Name's Karenina. Just stick with me on this one, and you'll be fine.
Just as she had once waited in vain for her father, Teddy now waited for The Unwinged who never came.
She wanders in darkness.
A cold tide of it churns around her, heavy with the undertow of memories.
Pages from the past turn, one by one.
But she refuses to look.
She just curls tighter into herself, letting the void dissolve her.
What a complete joke.
The cradle rocks above an abyss,
and common sense tells us,
that our existence is but a brief crack of light between two eternities of darkness.
—"Speak, Memory"
