That made sense, or—if aliens made a world based on human fiction, it stood to reason they’d get details wrong, or off-balance. I sighed and spoke from the heart.
“I would’ve rather lived inside my favorite manga.”
Koizumi picked up one half of the apple.
“This allows us to deduce the nature of the two aspects we’re interacting with. One part of us remains in the real world; while we find ourselves here in this fictional construct. The virtual particles are Reality : Fiction, equally likely to be one or the other.”
But both reality and fiction are mere concepts. How would one physically collide with that?
“Conceptual quantization,” Nagato muttered. “Concept quanta are not impossible.”
“And so those of us interacting with the Reality side remain in the real world, while we interacted with the Fiction side, becoming fiction versions of ourselves, and winding up here.”
Koizumi put the two halves of the apple together and put it back on the platter. Just eat it, dude.
“Our real-world selves are in a state of quantum superposition with those of us in this fictional world. In other words, we are not yet completely cut off from reality. In fact, we’re closely connected.”
His faint smile grew slightly stronger.
“And I imagine therein lies our chance to escape.”
Assuming you’re right, then what? Putting aside the question of who did this, they went to all the trouble of making this world just to trap our fictionalized selves.
“That does seem to be the case.”
“Still,” I said, gazing at the back of my hand. Looking it over. “I can’t tell this body’s fiction just by looking at it.”
“It is not merely fiction. It is a fiction given corporeal form. Simply put, the atoms composing our bodies are themselves quanta, so it is hardly inaccurate to say we were always made from quanta.”
Surely that’s an exaggeration.
“Speaking purely in statistical terms, if we were in real space until yesterday, then the odds of us remaining in real space today are extremely high. But if there is the slightest chance of us existing in virtual space, then the odds of the phenomenon occurring cannot be zero.”
Oh, come on, that sounds like complete bullshit.
“Odds that are next to zero are not actually zero, so there remains a remote chance of them happening. Though the odds of this occurring naturally are almost certainly one in a ten billion.”
Odds that close to zero should be treated as zero. Else you’d never get anywhere. Where in the world would that virtual space even be? You’d need the equivalent of an ultra-high-tech super-quantum computer server…
Which I guess we’re on.
“Interface unknown,” Nagato said again.
Fine, I have other questions.
“They couldn’t just copy our personalities and put them in a virtual space? That feels like it’d be easier.”
“Perhaps there’s no point in copying our minds alone,” Koizumi said, now using that knife to peel the apple. “Perhaps human consciousness cannot be separated from our physical forms. It may well be that our minds depend on something other than our brains alone.”
He glanced at Nagato, but our tiny literature club girl was nibbling at an olive like a squirrel.
“If mere cognitive copies are insufficient to re-create our minds in a virtual space, and our physical data is also necessary…”
Is that really the reason?
“Our presence here arguably answers that.”
Following Nagato’s lead, I popped an olive in my mouth and instantly regretted it. Extremely vinegary.
“Currently, we are in a virtual space with our physical bodies. That may sound contradictory, but if our flesh was also quantized, I believe it’s possible. This is not our standard definition of a virtual space—an electronic or computer environment—but all we can really say is that it is something else.”
Trying to banish the bad taste, I took a slice of peeled apple from Koizumi and bit into it. Extremely sweet.
“The being behind this possesses quantum technology far beyond humanity’s level and can presumably exercise a degree of control over the quanta themselves.”
He began chewing on a dried date.
“This dissociation is rather arbitrary. We can only read quanta in probabilistic terms, while they have the technology to do all this with them.”
Well, I guess I get the how.
“So whoever they are, why have they trapped us here, and why are they making us act out these third-rate plays?”
“No clue. Part of me thinks it might be some sort of experiment. Place the SOS Brigade in an array of situations and see how each of us responds… What do you think, Nagato?”
“Motive unknown,” she said clearly, soundlessly sipping from her cup. “We’re being observed. That alone I can perceive.”
How do you know that?
“It is what I always do. This feels the same.”
I looked around for an invisible camera.
“Perhaps the goal is to erase our original minds, completely immersing us in these roles we’re playing. The situational variety may be a shotgun attempt to discover what setting will captivate us best.”
So they’ll leave us here until we become someone else, forever stuck playing out one of these stories?
While playing a role, you become that person. Perhaps as the worlds shuffled, we’d eventually find the perfect role for our minds.
And that would leave us unable to return to reality. Guess we can’t just sit here. I wasn’t about to play along with a game master who had no plan to wrap things up.
“Let’s do something, then. Where do we start? Nagato? Koizumi?”
This made Nagato set her cup down, and Koizumi flashed his teeth at me.
“Let’s organize our thoughts. These are the known facts:
• The five members of the SOS Brigade are interacting with two concepts: Reality and Fiction.
• SOS Brigade x Reality and SOS Brigade x Fiction both exist.
• These two are in a state of quantum entanglement /superposition.
• SOS Brigade x (Reality + Fiction) = SOS Brigade (Reality) + SOS Brigade (Fiction.)
“If Nagato’s explanation is correct, there is something linking our real selves to those of us here.”
This is the Reality : Fiction concept quantum?
“Repeating ‘Reality’ and ‘Fiction’ is getting redundant, so let’s take the initials and call them r and f.”
Koizumi pushed some food out of his way.
“I could use something to write with. Let us turn to the goddess of wisdom. Nagato, don’t you want something to read?”
“I do,” she said.
“Then ask for it.”
There was a silly-sounding plop, and an A3-size clay tablet landed on her lap. Covered in odd writing.
“Is that…Linear B?”
“A,” Nagato said flatly.
“Gosh, the undeciphered one? Can you read it?”
“Analysis required.”
“How long would that take?”
Nagato considered that, but I shook my head.
Didn’t matter right now.
“True. The moment I let my guard down, my thoughts are pulled elsewhere.”
Koizumi took the tablet from Nagato’s lap and turned it over. There was nothing inscribed on the back.
“I suppose paper wouldn’t fit with the times.”
He plucked a silver skewer from an olive and began scratching away.