“You weren’t worried about getting doxed, streaming outside? I’m sure you’ve got fans over here, too.” “Not a concern. I always use a slight cognitive barrier when I’m outside. The effects are weak against people directly meeting me, but no regular folk could see through it.” “Huh. Anyways, how’s your faith gauge going?” “It’s been increasing since I was exposed back in Akihabara. I haven’t confirmed it in stream, but this makes the rumors roll with a snowball effect. I am once again near my peak, albeit with some limitations.” “Dang. What kinda limitations?” “Let’s see, in total…” “Uh-huh?” “About one second.” “That’s it?!” “Brief, I know… But I’ve unlocked some spells that necessitate sufficient output. The day I shake the world inches ever closer.” “You make it sound like you leveled up in a game… But hey, your face was on full display back in Akihabara, and Hizuki still got way more buzz than you,” Takahashi said, booting up her virtual retina display. She browsed an anonymous message board full of creeps and lowlifes where they posted photo and video collages of Hizuki flipping the bird. Without Hizuki’s consent, naturally. The impact of the whole ordeal and the image of the pretty girl giving the finger had turned her into an aethernet meme. They’d commodified her into the web’s latest main character. “In any case, Takahashi.” “Hmm?” “You know the aim of our quest, don’t you?” “Naturally.” Takahashi puffed out her chest. “The Dark Peers Records grimoires track the steps of all six peers, and in Akihabara, we successfully obtained the Black Dragon, Sihlwald’s, record—which brought us here! Correct, sir?” Indeed, that was their objective coming to Goar. Veltol nodded in satisfaction. “Precisely. So you didn’t stop here solely for sightseeing.” “C’mon, who d’you take me for?!” “I’m joking.” Veltol laughed. “Unlocking the Dark Peers Records took far…far longer than I expected, but it is no problem now that it’s done. And the coordinates…” Veltol pointed eastward. Beyond the sea. In fact, Sihlwald’s coordinates were not in Goar. They were far away in the direction Veltol was indicating. Beyond the nighttime darkness was the silhouette of a giant metal structure—an artificial island. “Yokohama.” Yokohama. Formerly Yokohama 2, different from the Yokohama 1 that fused with Goar. Whenever people spoke of Yokohama in the present day, they referred to the second one out to sea. The only available information about this Yokohama were rumors on the aethernet. Part of the pre-Fantasion Yokohama in Japan’s Kanagawa Prefecture on Earth had been separated far from the continent following the deformation of the Earth’s crust and the subsequent rise in sea levels. The people left behind supposedly lived on this island, but that was the extent of what was known. The only thing that could be determined from this distance was the silhouette formed by the blurry red lights blinking like aircraft warning lighting. The blurriness was caused by the warped space around the island. “So,” Takahashi began, “it’s warped like that because of…” “Yes, spatial distortion from beyondization.” Veltol nodded. Beyondization—a type of spatial fluctuation. When beyondized, whatever used to exist in that space got warped, while still retaining its functions. Earth’s former Shinjuku Station and Alnaeth’s former underground cathedral of Nelldor were beyondized with the Fantasion, warping Shinjuku Station and constructing a giant labyrinth. Spatial distortion was born from beyondization and meant that one could not physically interfere with the space in question. It was one of the scars left behind by the Fantasion, such as the climate change with lower temperatures and the thick clouds covering the skies, or the elevation of the Goar mines surrounding it. “Looks like it covers the whole city, too,” Takahashi noted. There were degrees to spatial distortion, and it was the first time she saw one that enveloped an entire city. There were no other abnormalities besides the spatial distortion, perhaps because it was beyondized on the ocean. Most warped spaces needed correction due to affected routes, whether terrestrial, aerial, or maritime, and greatly increased transport costs. However, correcting one so big would be a monumental task. Yokohama was not only a solitary island in the distant sea, but it was also in the distant world as well. “And the Black Dragon, Sihlwald, one of the Dark Peers, is there,” Takahashi added. Veltol nodded. “Yes. And it appears her location has been stagnant for a long time.” “How do you survive in a place like that? And how’re we gettin’ there to begin with? We can’t, physically, right?” “That is what we’re about to find out.” “Ooh, investigation time!” Then: “EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” A loud scream and a crash came from near the city gate. “Aiieee!” “Whoa?! Watch out!” People ran away, crouched and clutching their heads. “Wow. Look at that, Takahashi. Quite an accident.” “Oof. They hit the building…” A personal flying vehicle had crashed into a building. Glass and debris fell onto the street. Either the driver was distracted or the vehicle malfunctioned; it wasn’t clear. Takahashi heard passersby talking amid the turmoil: “I think the driver was a junkie. He looked stoned right before the accident and was screaming his head off.” “These things keep happening… Is Scream that good?” “Who knows? Besides, drugs always mess with your body. Better not even try it.” “Yeah, I prefer the safe techno stuff, anywho.” “You said it! Gah-ha-ha-ha!” The two of them clapped. Veltol also seemed to be listening. “Scream?” he said to Takahashi. “It’s a drug that’s been getting popular the last few years.” “I see…” “And it’s not techno—it’s actually illegal. It’s against the law to cultivate the main ingredient, red mandrakes, in the first place. There’s all kinds of mandrakes, but people use the red ones to make narcotics.” Takahashi had quickly booted up the search engine on her Familia to supplement her knowledge on Scream. She basically skimmed a few news articles, but she wanted to sound knowledgeable in front of Veltol. “Hmmm. Drugs, eh? Nothing to do with us, then,” he said. “Nope. So, where should we go investigate first? They always go to bars in video games and stuff. Let’s give that a try!” “No, we can just ask whoever passes by.” “Huh? You don’t wanna copy the games?” “Good grief. Do you think I’m some sort of addict who can only think in gaming terms?” “Yeah, I do.” Veltol brushed aside her response and went up to an old dwarf in a dirty outfit who was fishing on the edge of the pier. It was too dark out to see into the water, but there were layers of dirt and trash visible. “Are you catching anything?” Veltol asked. “Nah. Only garbage like this. But I like staring at the sea with my rod in hand.” The old dwarf laughed and slapped a big jar beside him. Inside it was a gooey red liquid and shriveled fruits like sponges. The bottle had a label that was a mix of kanji, alphabetic letters, and numbers. “What is that?” said Veltol. “Who knows? The stuff drifts over here from time to time. I throw out the inside and just keep the jars.” “Hmm…” Veltol pointed at Yokohama in the sea. “If I may ask, is there a way to get to that island?” “…What, you wanna go there?” “Yes.” Veltol nodded. The old man stared at the end of his rod as he scratched his cheek. “I dunno the truth, but I can’t say anything other than you shouldn’t. I’ve been here a long time…and I’ve seen a few oddballs go over there. None of ’em have ever come back. All I know for a fact is that place used to be part of this city long ago.” “So you’re saying that people have gone there before.” “I have no idea whether they actually reached the island, but yes… Perhaps it’s not impossible.” Takahashi tilted her head. “Hmm? You can go there? But what about the spatial distortion?” “Where do you think this came from?” The old man pointed at the jar. “Wait, you mean…?” “Yeah. They say these come from Yokohama.” Veltol connected the dots. “I see. In that case, what looks like one big spatial distortion around Yokohama is actually multiple layers of distortion. Perhaps it should have been obvious from the beginning, considering how such distortions occur.” “They say there’s ferries coming here from Yokohama, so that means there’s a gap large enough for a ship to fit through,” the old man said. “And the distortion doesn’t reach all the way to the sky; I’ve seen small planes coming and going a few times.” “Are there ships moored somewhere in Yokohama, then?” Veltol asked. The old man nodded and pointed in the direction of a warehouse zone. “I keep my distance ’cause it’s dangerous, so I dunno much, but word has it that Yokohama’s got a designated port and warehouse. Can’t recommend going there, though. That’s Yakuza Guild turf.” “No need to worry. Thank you for the information.” Veltol and Takahashi headed in the direction the old man pointed. The warehouse zone was desolate and dimly lit. “So,” Takahashi said. “We’re totally going there, huh?” “We are. I expected to spend today only gathering information, but I happened to strike gold. Doubly so, considering you are here, too. So we shall go investigate.” “Shouldn’t we call Machina and Hizuki?” “We don’t need many people simply to look into things. We would stand out, too.” “Makes sense…” Takahashi had close to zero combat skills. Her mana release and reserve were below average, and her physical capabilities were just average. She had attack spells installed on her Familia, but she rarely used them. Familia technology enabled everyone to use magic, a mystical power previously reserved for the chosen, but that did not mean that everyone was able to use every type of magic. “You and I strike the optimal balance in terms of skills and manpower for investigation.” Takahashi took that positively; at least he trusted her. Surely he only expected technical and not combat support. “’Kay, let’s do it.” A few hours later, Takahashi would come to regret saying that. They arrived at their destination shortly. A tall fence and imposing gate obstructed their advance. “‘High Voltage.’ ‘Yokohama Territory—No Entry Allowed.’ ‘Trespassers may be shot without warning.’ Man, that’s violent,” said Takahashi. All the signs had the logo of the Bouncer Guild. Around the gates were multiple surveillance cameras and two magiroid guards. An ogre watchman sat inside the security booth, checking the cameras, half asleep. “Takahashi.” She knew what Veltol wanted: Open the gates. She was surprised to realize she could read his mind at this point, but she didn’t hate it. “I guess you can’t carry me and jump over the fence… They gotta have a barrier in place.” Takahashi’s job meant that she commonly entered highly secured buildings and areas such as this. And going from experience, places like this always had pressure-sensitive, mana-sensitive, and multiple other barriers. This sort of barrier, without defense power, specialized only for detection, was hard to dissolve or trick in exchange for allowing physical entrance. “I could do that, perhaps, but since you are here, the best path would be to go in from the front. Besides, I need to level up my stealth skills, and I cannot do that forcing my way through. People always tell me I end up making brawlers out of stealth games.” “Okay, boss. No comment on that last bit.” Takahashi was an aether hacker. And what did an aether hacker do? Aether hacking. “Go get ’em, Futaba.” Takahashi booted up one of her three artificial spirits. A pretty girl avatar showed up in a corner of her vision and quickly opened and closed several windows. Futaba was in charge of data processing. It was a standard type installed on commercial Familias, but customized. Futaba caught the comms status of the surrounding Familia and machines and showed them on the virtual display. Machines connected through the aethernet were displayed on her vision with light rays linking them. The gate was managed entirely in the security room, which was isolated from any other communications. It wasn’t possible to attack it directly from the aethernet. This also meant they only had to take over the security booth. “Pretty basic. Aoi!” A new avatar showed up beside Futaba. Aoi was an artificial spirit specialized in altering sight and video. Normally, booting up two or more artificial spirits at the same time crashed the Familia and shut it down, causing harm to the brain and, in the worst case, death. However, Takahashi’s high processing ability let her boot up three simultaneously. She had no talent as an old-timey sorcerer, but she was a gifted tech wizard. Only the gate’s security was cut off from the aethernet. The cameras and the magiroids were online. Futaba traced a path to hack into them. A puny private security company’s firewall was nothing to Takahashi. “Piece of cake.” The cameras’ and magiroids’ security fell with ease, and Aoi changed their video feed to a loop and messed with the magiroids’ hearing so they would be unable to notice they were there. Takahashi walked toward the security booth as though she owned the place. She walked in front of the magiroids, but it was like she was invisible. She opened the booth’s door and stood behind the sleeping watchman. No sign of him waking up. His Familia was connected to the gate’s terminal through a wire. It looked like the gate wouldn’t open without his authorization. Alongside the detection barrier, this was quite high security for a port warehouse. Too bad about the lack of alert of the henchmen. “On you go.” Takahashi took a cable out of her jacket’s pocket and connected one side to her Familia and another to the watchman’s open port. “Buh?! Th-the hell?!” “Whoa there, don’t get up now.” He awoke the moment the cable was connected, and she sent the Sleep spell through the wire. “Uhh…” The watchman went right back to sleep, like a doll turning off. Aether hackers were not omnipotent. They couldn’t connect to something off the aethernet wirelessly—physical methods had to be taken. Breaking through logic barriers wirelessly was a “superpower” of Takahashi’s. Regular aether hackers used social engineering if wiring was not an option. Once wired, logic barriers were meaningless. One became defenseless to the effects of magic. “Using Sleep doesn’t work for me, unless I’m wired. Then they just drop like flies.” The cable connecting Takahashi’s Familia to the guard’s was made of the same thing as the aether pseudonerves and allowed her to directly control his Familia. She used it to access the terminal and watched out for traps as she got it under control. The impenetrable gate then opened automatically. “Mission complete.” Takahashi disconnected the cable from the watchman’s Familia and wiped the connector with her sleeve before leaving the security booth. It was a dull job, and she knew it. Things like when she got Veltol’s faith to rise in Shinjuku were rare. But being inconspicuous meant you did a good job as an aether hacker. Still, that didn’t fulfill her craving for self-expression and approval, but she had made peace with it. “Splendiferous,” said Veltol, waiting beside the booth. It also meant that having Veltol praise her job was a great delight. “Aw, shucks.” She then tried to hide her bashfulness. “Anyone can do this much, though.” “No need for modesty. I’m quite aware of your skills. Job well done.” “…You can give me simple tasks like this anytime, really.” Being trusted by Veltol filled Takahashi with inexplicable joy. “Heh-heh.” She elbowed his side. “What’s that for…?” Veltol frowned. “You really can’t do anything without me, eh?” “Ha. Do not underestimate my power. I am constantly growing. Perhaps I am not to your level, but I am studying the basics of aether hacking.” “For real? You’re gonna put me out of a job! Anywho, we’re out of Goar and in Yokohama territory now.” “It appears so.” They crossed the border. “That said…nothing’s different from Goar,” Takahashi noted. “Indeed. No signs of any people or magic as of yet.” They went into the nearest warehouse. It was full of plain boxes and nothing else that stood out. Takahashi ran up to one of them, placed her hands on the top, and bounced like a rabbit. “What’s inside this thing?” she wondered aloud. “Shall we open it?” “Yeah!” It had only simple magic and one physical lock. Veltol poured some mana into his bare hands to break the lock and open the box. “Hmm…?” Takahashi peeked inside. There were lots of transparent bags full of small red crystals. “What’s this?” She took out a bag and got an artificial spirit to look it up based on its appearance. Results came in right away. “We’d have to actually analyze it, but I think this is Scream…,” she said. “Hmm… It’s all falling into place.” “So Scream comes…from Yokohama?” “Yes, and I surmise the Yakuza Guild is the broker between—” “Warning.” A mechanical voice came from behind. “This is the Progenitor’s domain. Trespassers are liable to arrest, captivity, and trial. Resistance will be met with divine punishment.” Takahashi turned around to find multiple IHMI magiroids holding automatic magi-guns. But the droids had no skincover—they were antiques from the Second City War. The ones on guard outside were miles better. Go, Velly! Take ’em out! They couldn’t possibly stand up to him. Even Takahashi could handle them herself. She glanced to her side and found him using his tablet. He doesn’t even need to look at them! He soon finished using it and said, “Very well.” Takahashi could never have expected his next words: “I shall surrender.” Veltol raised both hands and got on his knees. “Yeah, you tell ’em—Huh?” No resistance. He took a knee. “WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?!” Takahashi’s scream echoed through the warehouse. Meanwhile, Hizuki and Machina waited for Takahashi’s and Veltol’s return to the tiny Chinese restaurant. “They’re sure taking their time,” Hizuki said. “What could they be doing?” Machina wondered. They were next to each other, in the same seats from before Takahashi left. “Mind if I order some youlinji?” “Go ahead, but you sure eat a lot, huh, Hizuki? That’s your third plate of fried chicken…” “What can I tell you? It’s just that good. Anyway, I wonder when they’re coming back.” “Oh! I just got a text from Lord Veltol.” Machina pulled up the message from Veltol’s tablet on her retina display while taking a sip of oolong tea. “Bffff!” Then she spat it out. “Eww…” Hizuki groaned. “Wh-what?!” Machina tipped over her chair as she quickly stood up, her eyes wide open. Everyone in the restaurant turned to the source of the noise, and Hizuki pulled Machina’s sleeve with embarrassment. But Machina was in no position to notice; she was shaking. “WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?!” Her scream echoed through the restaurant. “Wh-what is it?” Hizuki asked. “Lord Veltol…” “Yeah?” After a few seconds, Machina turned her head toward Hizuki with a mechanical creak and said: “Lord Veltol left for Yokohama…” She was dreaming. Down. Down. Someone screamed. Yelled at her to fulfill her soul’s duty. Someone called for her. Down. Down. Outside. Outside. She could see something. Something big and strong. Something as frightening as it was awe-inspiring. But she didn’t know what. The five o’clock alarm rang. The girl Aoba 100F always woke up at the same time. Not a minute, not a second of difference. The spotless white ceiling always greeted her. The same white sheets, the same white curtains. Upon confirming it was her same room, she sat right up and stretched. She could tell that the ends of her shoulder-length hair—exactly the length regulated for women—were frizzy. “Mmmmm. Fwaaah.” She yawned and sighed. She usually woke up without an ounce of lethargy, but not today. The reason being… “It’s the last day I get to be a child…” Tomorrow was Aoba 100F’s birthday. Upon coming of age in this city, not only were people assigned a job but also a level of contribution to fulfill. All by the city’s god, the Progenitor. The children were the city’s treasures. They couldn’t bear any sin; they were pardoned from anything. Upon becoming an adult, one had duties of happiness and servitude, and became accountable for sin. It was the last day she could spend as a child. Aoba 100F could not yet understand an adult’s responsibilities, and simply thinking about it depressed her. She stood up and put on her slippers before opening the curtains and reciting one of the Progenitor’s verses in the Canon: “All is right with the world.” Aoba 100F left her bedroom and crossed the hallway and the living room to the kitchen. Her house was big but plain. All houses were. The only furniture was the minimum supplied. However, no one wished for more. No desires before victory. Another of the Canon’s verses. She had no idea what she needed to do to obtain “victory.” Aoba 100F took a bottle of aqa—water—out of the fridge and poured some into a cup she carried to the table. Yokohama’s upper stratum, according to the Canon, was the only and final utopia in this world. Aoba 100F’s house was in the west side’s residential area. “All right! It’s almost time for prayer.” She gulped down the aqa and got ready. The moment she opened the door, her neighbor did the same. The adult man greeted her with a smile. “Good morning, Aoba 100F.” “G-good morning, Aoba 022M.” “Are you attending prayer, too?” “Yes. A-and it’s my birthday. It’s my last morning prayer as a child.” “Oh, so you’re already coming of age. It feels like just yesterday that you were this little… How fast time flies.” “Please don’t…” She got red all the way to her ears, hearing about her childhood. The memory was fresh—her childhood wasn’t that long ago, after all. “Life is so short. Work hard to serve our god the Progenitor and contribute to the city. It is the law of the world that those with low contribution get kicked down first.” “Y-yes!” The degree of contribution to the city and the Progenitor was calculated on an individual level according to one’s attitude in life and work achievements. Once a person came of age in the upper stratum, if their contribution reached a low enough level, they were sent to the lower stratum. If their contribution fell further, they were sent to the re-service area. Even those who contributed exceptionally and escaped being sent to the lower stratum, if they became unable to continue contributing in old age, they were sent to the re-service area. It was a place where one could contribute to the city even in old age or after sinning. “Who knows how long I’ll get to stay in the upper stratum,” Aoba 022M mused. “P-please don’t say that…” “People age. One’s performance drops, contribution lowers, and falling to the lower stratum and the re-service area is inevitable… To submit body and soul to the city and the Progenitor…is a citizen’s duty.” “Yes. I will work hard not to fall to the lower stratum.” “The sad part is that someone must always fall after coming of age.” “Yes…” “It was just recently that Izumi 078F was demoted to the lower stratum due to thought sin, remember? They say we Aobas and the Izumis tend to have higher instances of dangerous thoughts. Be careful, Aoba 100F.” “D-don’t worry.” Her heart skipped a beat. Thought sin was a great crime against the Canon. A single infraction kicked you down to the lower stratum. Aoba 100F said good-bye to Aoba 022M and left for the spacious park on the outside rim of the upper stratum. The church was nearby, and she thought to have her morning saba—meal—before prayer. She received her hot dog and a paper cup full of coffee at the automatic supply spot at the park’s entrance. Aoba 100F found the park to be a symbol of peace. Natural earth and grass, small flowers blooming, children running around with smiles on their faces, adults watching over them, the wind caressing her cheeks, flying vehicles advising the citizens to live happily, and the elderly being carried on stretchers and taken into the capsule elevators to the re-service area. A peaceful sight, as always. She leaned against the edge of the park and ate her provided hot dog. “Tasty.” They said the sausages in real hot dogs were made of magar cattle used for Communion, but Aoba 100F did not have the opportunity to try Communion items. The sausage she ate was made of “re-serviced items.” She looked down from the edge. “So high up…” Yokohama was composed of the lower stratum with a rusty iron base and the upper stratum plate supported by the 296-meter-tall black pillar—the Atlas that rose from the center of the lower stratum. Seen from the side, the artificial island of Yokohama was shaped exactly like a capital I. Aoba 100F could see part of the lower stratum’s base. According to the Canon, this place where low-contribution or sinner adults were sent to was a prison. The upper stratum had a population of two thousand people, while the lower stratum held eight thousand sinners. No one had ever come back to the upper stratum from the lower stratum. These people were said to toil away until the end of their service. The people on the upper stratum always feared the possibility of falling to the lower stratum. Aoba 100F raised her head, and, beyond, she saw… “The outside…” The outside of Yokohama could be seen from the upper stratum. Beyond the warped panorama were the blurry lights of the city outside. The Canon said that a cataclysm struck as punishment for the sins of the people of the past, and the outside world was left in shambles. Those out there were sinners who failed to get on the Yokohama ark. This city was a holy land protected by a holy curtain—the last utopia. And so the citizens had a duty to thank and serve the Progenitor, who guarded the city. Everyone in the upper stratum said those lights were lights of sin, but Aoba 100F had deep yearning for them. She wanted to go outside one day. “N-no…!” She quickly shook her head to drive the thought away. The teachings of the Canon were absolute. Adherents were taught the verses before birth. No one doubted the teachings, and doing so amounted to thought sin. “But…” Although she couldn’t explain why, Aoba 100F had this hunch that the existence of Yokohama itself was unnatural. When she closed her eyes, she could see the sky, the land, the sea, the vastness of this world she had never seen. She had no memory or record of it, yet she knew. So she suspected. She had doubts. “Is this…really the last utopia?” The question was a clear thought sin against the Canon and the Progenitor. She didn’t want to think so anymore, but the idea, the admiration for the outside, circled around in her mind. And, most unbelievable of all: She wanted to go down. The desire to go down was different from her admiration of the outside; it was an impulse from the pit of her stomach. “Why would I want to go to a place full of sinners and despair…?” Although she wanted to go “down,” she didn’t want to fall to the lower stratum. Contradictory feelings boiled within her. “Ah.” She realized her coffee was cold. A bell rang in the sky of Yokohama. “O-oh no, I’ll be late.” The bell notified the citizens that the time of one of their duties, prayer, was close. She gulped down her coffee and threw the trash into the disposal chute nearby before leaving the park. Children faced no punishment even if they were late or absent, but she had heard that their teacher was penalized for lack of supervision. She couldn’t be late. She was taught that causing trouble for others was bad. “Good morning.” “Good morning.” The people she passed by greeted her. It was the same sight as always. The sight of peace. “Folk, be healthy. “Folk, be honest. “Folk, be happy. “Big Brother is always watching over us. “Let there be peace in the world.” The same verses as always came from the speakers. She headed to one of the many chapels in the upper stratum. There was the central cathedral where the Progenitor lived, and multiple chapels. Each chapel was big enough to hold everyone in the zone, and the cathedral was big enough to hold everyone in the upper stratum. Lion-dog statues and a mechanical torii gate were placed at the grounds’ entrance, with multiple holographic torii adorning the path to the church. Garden lanterns lined up on either side of the path, and beyond them was a pure sacred ground of white gravel. A white building stood at the end of the path—one of the upper stratum chapels of Yokohama. The inside of it was dimly lit, with holographic stained glass on the ceiling, rows of benches, and a pulpit at the end, before the icon of the Progenitor. “Save us, Father.” “Watch over us, Big Brother.” “Forgive us, Mothers.” Laser beams of various colors crossed the dark space as a low hymn that reverberated to the pit of the stomach was accompanied by holy verse recitals. The sound, lines, and verses robbed the power to think from those inside. They always carried their Canons but never opened them, as they were made to memorize the contents before anything else. The Canon was everything in this city—the guideline of life. “Let there be peace in the world.” As Aoba 100F recited the verses, she wondered, Is this really all right? Outside. Outside. Down. Down. The thoughts swirled in her head. “O-of course it’s all right.” She shook her head to get rid of the notion. Simply thinking it was sacrilege. “We were born to serve the Progenitor and atone for the sins of the world.” Midnight, as soon as the date changed: “Aoba 100F! Open the door!” A loud voice and knocking came out of nowhere, waking Aoba 100F. She jumped out of bed and went to open the door, where she found multiple adult men in robes and armed with guns. She knew who they were. “O-officers…?” They belonged to the Law Office, the Progenitor’s “arms” who maintained public order in Yokohama and enforced the law. Aoba 100F’s mind went blank with shock, fear, and confusion. “We received a report from a concerned citizen,” the officer plainly stated. “A-about…what?” “You are suspected of committing thought sin.” There was a tip-off system in the upper stratum. Anyone who reported criticisms of the Progenitor or thought sins received a boost in their contribution level. Aoba 100F had no idea what could have brought this on. She never expressed her desire to go outside to anyone. “I-I’m innocent!” she cried. “That is not your decision to make. Your transgression may escape Big Brother’s eyes, but our laws are never wrong.” “Big Brother…” One of the first things children were taught was to avoid doing anything bad, because Big Brother was always watching. “D-d-d-do you have any proof that I-I’ve done it? The whistleblower could be wrong or lying…” “The people have a duty to be honest—they would not lie. Ergo, they speak the truth. There is no need for proof. So says the Canon.” “H-huh? B-but that…doesn’t quite make sense, does it? I-I’m a citizen, too, so d-doesn’t that mean that I-I’m not lying, eith—?” “Shut your mouth!” The officer slapped Aoba 100F. Her heart pounded at the sudden act of violence. “This is all the Progenitor’s will! There is no logical contradiction in His words! The Aobas have a tendency for thought sin, and most of all, as you’ve demonstrated by your doubts of a citizen’s report, you thereby doubt the Canon. That proves your thought sin!” “B-but…I just d-don’t under—” “Do—not—talk—back! Sinner! Sinner!” The officer slapped her multiple times again until she collapsed. Her throat was dry and her hands trembling. Aoba 100F had never thought about it—how the system was so flawed that a person would be arrested automatically the moment they were snitched on. “Aoba 100F, you are under arrest for suspicion of thought sin. You will be tried today in the Last Court of Yokohama.” “No! I haven’t done anything! Please believe me! A-and I’m still a child… So…” The children were the city’s treasure. They were pardoned from any sin—so long as they were children. “You came of age the moment midnight arrived. You’ve lost all your rights as a child and will be judged as an adult.” They handcuffed her. “Take her in.” Aoba 100F was held down and dragged away in her pajamas. “No! I didn’t do anything!” she screamed, but no one listened. The neighbors heard the noise and opened their doors to see what it was about. Among them peeking from the gap in their doors was Aoba 022M. His eyes met hers. “I’m sorry, Aoba 100F,” he said, looking away. Only Aoba 100F heard him. “My contribution level is low, and I might get sent down once you come of age. But I can boost it if I hand you to the authorities. I’m sorry.” Aoba 100F was so disoriented, her memories of what happened after were unclear. The machines judged her at the Last Court beside the cathedral, and she could do nothing but listen to the charges in silence. “Verdict: Aoba 100F is sentenced to four years in the lower stratum for thought sin.” She was then handed a prison uniform, handcuffed, and sent to the elevator to the lower stratum. The forsaken land of iron, rusted and worn by the sea breeze. She’d never heard of what life was like in the lower stratum. There was no way to know what it was like without living there yourself. The Canon simply said it was a prison for sinners. I’m scared… Her hands trembled, chills ran down her spine, she felt like there was lead in her stomach, and she could barely keep standing. Fear of the unknown. Vague anxiety. The lower stratum, where 80 percent of the Yokohama population lived. Sinners banished from utopia. Hell. A place full of demons castigating the sinners. That was the Canon’s description. She was taken to a shabby building and made to walk down a dirt corridor. A stinging cold never seen in the upper stratum. People in prison uniforms hunkered while holding their heads as law officers beat them with batons. The sound of their flesh and bones getting smashed echoed through the hallway and clung to Aoba 100F’s ears. Why…me…? She shivered in fear. I never should’ve thought to go outside. I never should’ve thought to go down. This must be divine punishment for thinking that, even though I knew how scary the lower stratum was… Regret tormented her as much as terror did. The law officer dragged her for a while before stopping before a dirty metal door with a plate that said CELL 045 and a rusty barred window, furnished to a half-crumbled bluish-green wall. He unlocked the door with the key attached to his side, then unlocked Aoba 100F’s handcuffs. The door opened with a heavy creak. The interior was dark, hard to see from outside. Aoba 100F’s spine froze and her legs shook, simply from her thinking of what sort of villainous sinners could be inside. Although, having been brought up in the upper stratum, which lacked entertainment, she had an imagination too poor to picture them. “Get in.” The law officer shut the door the moment she stepped inside. The loud noise and shaking paralyzed her. Her eyes soon adjusted to the darkness. The floor was of rusty metal, the walls of crumbling stone, and there was no window. There were two dirty, shabby bunk beds with rusty frames. The beds were placed in an L-shape. There was one toilet. Shoddy and placed in a corner of the cell without any walls. The worst part was the cold, though. Wind blew through the gaps in the crumbled wall, and there was no hope of heating. Although Aoba 100F didn’t know this, the entire lower stratum only had the absolute minimum cryotolerance barrier to sustain life. The fear of having to live in such poor conditions was blown away immediately. “…!” She gasped as her eyes got glued to the bed before her—specifically, to the man sitting on the first bed. His hair was long, his face handsome, and the aura oozing from every pore of his body so lively, it shone even in this hellscape. Even though he wore the same plain prison uniform she did, it looked like tailor-made luxury clothing on him. She could tell right away that he was the boss of this cell. “My, a new inmate?” He stood up and extended his arms. “Veltol Velvet Velsvalt is my name. Welcome to Team 045, fellow prisoner. Make yourself at home—as much as you can in this tiny cell, that is.”
Chapter 32
32 min read