The time machine could only transfer data; that much was a fact. However, the concept of “data” was not strictly limited to things like computer files.
For instance, the human mind—including one’s personality and memories—could also be classified as data.
Because data had no physical manifestation, it would require a vessel to store it at the destination.
As an example, the human body would be the ideal vessel for personality and memories, preferably one as close to the original vessel’s body and brain structure as possible to avoid complications.
If they were sent to a computer, the machine wouldn’t be able to process the data. Were that data sent into the brain of someone who differed in age or sex, it was only natural that complications would arise.
Thus, there was one simple solution...
✦ ✦ ✦
Field Battle’s theme song, a tune that had graced my ears a thousand times over, played through my smartphone speaker. I had it set as my alarm sound.
I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling. Blinked two, three times.
It all seemed so... normal. The VR platform, the bookshelf, the gun controller box on top of it—everything.
I snatched my phone away from its resting place by my pillow. First, I stopped the alarm. Then, I checked the calendar date.
“No...” I sat up and flexed my fist, realizing that the body was mine. I was definitely awake.
It was the start of yet another boring, tedious day in my boring, tedious life... except for one thing.
“What was that?”
It felt like I had just seen a long, long dream. In that dream, my buddies and I had endured the zombie apocalypse.
I got out of bed and slipped into normal clothes for the first time in months.
“Oh, my...”
“Hiroaki?!”
In the kitchen, I ran into Mom and Yoshiaki. The two were flabbergasted at seeing me downstairs in the light of day, sporting my outdoor clothes and not the usual FPS military uniform.
It’s 6:30. I’m guessing Dad’s still at work.
“I’m heading out.”
Their eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as they watched me head down the hall.
The fact that they were alive had almost made me burst into tears. I tried to avoid eye contact, at least for now, so they didn’t see my watery eyes. Otherwise, I’d die of embarrassment.
“Where are you—when are you going to be back? What about dinner?”
“Dunno. Leave some leftovers on the table. I’ll be eating downstairs.” I put on my shoes and rushed out of the house, a whirlpool of emotions swirling in my chest.
Was it really just a dream? Otoha, Shino, Shiiko, Tetsuko, Raven—all of it? Was it all just a shut-in, hardcore gamer’s petty delusion?
I ran and I ran, fighting back the urge to scream. Next thing I knew, I had made it to a familiar location: Mister Watson’s Hardware Store, the place where Otoha and I had holed up for many a night.
Needless to say, the store wasn’t in ruins. It was open, even. People were dipping in and out, and the parking lot was peppered with cars.
I looked around. There was nothing but ordinary, everyday life as far as the eye could see.
“No...”
It was just a dream.
The realization hit me like a ton of bricks. I felt like my legs were about to give out.
No, this is fine. Everything’s right in the world. What’s not to love? So what if it was all just a dream? Would you rather have your mom, your little brother, and your dad turn? Would you rather see a rich girl lose her father? Would you rather have a zombie guru’s hands smeared in her mom’s and her sister’s blood? This is a moment worth celebrating... and yet, just look at yourself. What a disaster.
I let out a heavy sigh and started walking down the twilight-drenched road home. Along the way, I saw a familiar figure a little ways ahead of me.
Short black hair, red-rimmed glasses. Pretty, yet plain. A poker face that concealed a smile which could rock your world. It was none other than my partner in crime, Otoha Judou.
“Oto—” I swallowed the name back down.
If it really had been a dream, just a petty delusion, I’d look like a weirdo calling out to some random girl on the street. And if it wasn’t, well, she’d give me some sort of sign.
Otoha’s deadpan expression didn’t change even as I got closer and closer. Soon, I was right next to her, yet she didn’t react one bit.
She passed me by like we were strangers, breaking my heart.
Is this it? Is this how you’re going to let it end? Is this how you want it to end?
“A happy ending awaits us,” I heard myself say. The line had been buzzing in the back of my mind.
Otoha stopped.
“Thought I’d buy myself a shovel,” she said almost apologetically.
“It’s what the trope calls for, huh?”
“It sure does.” With that, Otoha walked off without so much as looking in my direction.
I turned and chased after her. Even from behind, I could see that her ears were tinted pink.
Oh, so that’s why.
Just like me, she had wanted to say something, but she hadn’t known if it had all been a dream. The two of us had been trapped between yearning and doubt, so the awkwardness had continued to build up between us.
That side of you is just too precious.
“What say we make humanity flourish once again, partner?”
“Mmhmm.” Otoha finally turned around, her usual poker face now replaced by a great, big smile.