Chapter 74

Chapter 74

From Cosmic Rascal to Professor.

Episode 74: The Guy Writing A Thesis In Prison (1).

Rustila stood firmly between me and the man.

“Don’t spout such nonsense. Aidel is not possessed!”

“He is possessed.” the man retorted.

“No, he’s not!”

A calming hand settled on Rustila’s shoulder, belonging to her teacher, Naier Clark. With a weary sigh, Naier intervened.

“There is already evidence, Rustila.”

“What evidence are you talking about?” Rustila demanded.

“It’s my husband.”

“Are you referring to Instructor Isaac?”

Isaac and Kizel stepped forward, their expressions grave. They exchanged a brief look before addressing me.

“Hand over the weapon you used in Bay 3.”

“Do you mean the calipers?”

“Yes.”

I retrieved the calipers and presented them. Instructor Isaac took them, raising them high for all to see. A tense silence hung in the air for a brief moment.

Then, suddenly, a thud.

Blood trickled from Isaac’s lips.

“C-Captain!”

Isaac immediately threw my calipers to the ground.

The ‘God of Wisdom and Curiosity’ grinds her teeth.

He silently extended the hand that had been clutching the caliper. It was marred with burn marks and bore the symbol of the Outer God, Zalgo, etched deeply into the flesh. I recognized the symbol immediately.

Touch it one more time, and you will die.

Her tone was unmistakably furious.

“I hope this serves as sufficient evidence.”

Rustila clamped her mouth shut. Sonia, previously gearing up for a scathing rebuke, froze. Only one person reacted differently.

“Is this accurate?”

Zelnya was the one to speak. Despite her struggle to maintain balance, her gaze was fixed and intense. Her body was still weak from the injuries inflicted by Mayrem. Still, her determination was palpable as she gripped my sleeve, glaring at the man who had proposed to restrain me.

“Let’s assume he’s indeed possessed by an Outer God, as the instructor suggests. Yet, he appears normal. He hasn’t committed any violence, his personality remains unchanged, and he’s not hallucinating.”

“That’s typical of the incubation or latent period. If we don’t act now, we might lose the chance to intervene before the external spirit fully manifests.”

“But he could remain stable until the summer break!”

“Or, conversely, he could lose control at any moment.”

The man’s argument was sound, leaving even Zelnya speechless. She collapsed onto a nearby bench in resignation. The man then turned to me with a somber expression.

“I’m sorry, but we need your cooperation.”

With my fate seemingly sealed, I changed into a restraint suit and secured a blindfold around my eyes. I bit down on a gag, and earplugs were inserted, effectively dulling all my senses. Alone, I positioned myself on the restraint cart.

Strangely, there was a sense of unwavering comfort.

“Uh, mmph.”

“What did you say?”

Ironically, this was more comfortable than my dormitory bed.

There was a reason I surrendered so easily.

Outer Gods affiliated with the Maxwell Legion harbor murderous intent toward you.

Outer Gods affiliated with the Darwin Legion are interested in you.

Staying at the school was no longer an option. Ever since the Celestine incident, I had been preparing for this moment. If I continued my education under these circumstances, my friends would remain in perpetual danger until the Ether Belt was repaired.

Enough was enough.

Rustila, continue to hone your swordsmanship diligently. Zelnya, stay true to your path. I hope everyone else concentrates on their studies, free from the shadow of looming threats.

And I sincerely hope Ceti recovers soon.

Creak.

The cart jolted into motion. Exhaustion overwhelmed me after the day’s chaos, and sleep beckoned irresistibly. I yielded to it, letting the darkness take over.

When I next opened my eyes.

“Welcome to Alcatraz, you punks.”

I found myself clad in an orange prison uniform.

Alcatraz, a planetary system nestled in the northeastern sector of the Raniakea Federation, harbors a unique world. The third planet, perfectly situated in the Goldilocks zone, functions as a prison. It serves as a purgatory for souls trapped by the Outer Gods.

“Aidel von Reinhardt. Charges include gambling, arson, verbal abuse, threats, obstruction of business, defamation, and property damage. You’ve built quite the rap sheet,” the officer remarked dryly.

“I have a criminal record?” But I’m a good citizen…

“Here, the notion that the ‘rich get off scot-free’ doesn’t hold water, kid.”

Suddenly, I was labeled a notorious criminal with 20 charges against my name.

“You’re not just a bad seed; you’re a full-blown radical. A damn commie, if I ever saw one.”

Ironically, he delivered these words in a crisp red instructor uniform.

The burly instructor pressed the tip of his pen against my forehead as he spoke.

“Ever heard of the labeling effect? With your record, finding employment will be a challenge, even if you come back to your senses later.”

“Pardon?”

“Why that baffled expression?”

The prospect of being unemployable was indeed troubling.

“Is it really that difficult to secure a job with a record in this system?”

“This is a prison, you fool.”

“Do even the educated struggle here?”

“What? Are you asking for an execution?”

It was clear: rational dialogue with this man was futile.

“Listen, you’re in Alcatraz now. Brace yourself. You need to survive the next six months until the Outer God, burdened by the Ether Belt’s energy, decides to cut ties with you.”

The ‘God of Wisdom and Curiosity’ scoffs at the absurdity.

I learned the rules quickly after arriving here. Or rather, I was thrust into them. My new residence? A cell.

The prison was a sprawling complex of hundreds of solitary cells, each confined by iron bars and spread across three floors. At the center stood a structure resembling a golf ball—the control tower. Curiously, the dome-shaped building was acoustically sensitive, a design feature intended to amplify noises, making it easier for guards to detect disturbances or attempted escapes.

“I’m bored,” I muttered to myself.

Three hours had passed since I began lounging in the stiff orange prison uniform. I scratched my head and rose from the unforgiving bed.

“Cartesia, let’s play a word chain game.”

“…Are you crazy?”

“You won’t play?”

“No, I won’t.”

There really wasn’t time for games. I had to remember the real reason I was here. I had chosen this isolated place to pursue my studies in theoretical physics, away from the prying eyes of the Outer Gods. The essentials for my work were simple: a head for thinking, a desk, a pencil, and a few sheets of paper.

Now, the challenge was acquiring these items…

“What was that!”

A sudden, loud noise interrupted my thoughts. Curious, I pressed my face against the iron bars and looked out. The commotion seemed to originate from the second floor.

Waaahhh!

Almost immediately, a siren blared, its sound magnified by the dome, assaulting my ears. I quickly covered them with my hands, grateful for the reflex that likely saved my eardrums from damage.

The instructors hurried to the far end of the second floor.

“You crazy bastard!”

“Will you not come down?”

Thud, thud, thud!

As they flung open the iron door, the instructors began to frantically beat the man inside. The cacophony of their blows melded with the wailing siren, amplifying the chaos.

The disturbance didn’t end there. Prisoners from surrounding cells began to shout and rattle their iron bars, their actions tinged with madness.

“Wow.”

Across the way, a man in another cell stripped off his pants and threw them through the bars—

“Damn it.”

He then lay back down on his bed. This place is hell.

No pencils, no paper. The blanket reeks of rotten cheese. And there are too many lunatics.

I had been complacent, thinking the solitude away from the relentless pursuit of the Outer Gods was a relief, but everything has its price. Now, I must spend months surrounded by those whose sanity has eroded. In such an environment, conducting any form of research is a futile endeavor.

Ah. How I miss Professor Feynman.

“Student Aidel was taken to Alcatraz…?”

Drip.

“That’s right.”

Detective Terrence nodded, his expression one of frustration. He exhaled a cloud of smoke from the cigarette dangling between his lips, the acrid scent permeating the air.

Professor Feynman struggled to grasp the story he had just been told. Reports linking traces of the Outer God to that student? A good kid who had never shown a hint of madness?

Feynman abruptly stood up.

“Where are you going?”

“We need to save that student.”

Terrence reached out and grabbed Feynman’s arm.

“It won’t be easy.”

“I understand. But we have to try.”

“This time, it’s impossible no matter what we do. Alcatraz is a fortress, you know that.”

Feynman was well aware. He responded as he slipped a pen back into his pocket.

“Direct extraction is out of the question. Even getting permission to visit him would be challenging. But surely, there are other approaches we can consider?”

“What do you have in mind?”

Feynman moved to the computer and quickly pulled up a document on the screen. He hit print, then returned to his seat with a freshly brewed cup of cinnamon tea.

“What’s that?”

“Take a look.”

Terrence’s brow furrowed as he accepted the paper.

“I don’t understand a word of this.”

“Don’t bother with the title or anything; just look at the authors.”

“There are only two. You and… Aidel?”

Detective Terrence, who had been thumbing through the pages, paused. The content of the thesis was beyond him, given his lack of expertise in physics.

Yet, with his keen observational skills, Terrence began to piece something together.

“F-Feynman. You.”

His voice trembled slightly.

“Which journal accepted this paper?”

“Universe.”

That was the most prestigious journal in the federation, renowned enough that even the layperson might recognize its name.

“I submitted it yesterday, and it’s already been cited over ten times,” Feynman remarked, a hint of pride in his smile. After taking a sip of his tea, he stood up.

“I need to step out for a moment.”

Clunk.

The silence that followed seemed to stretch, filled with unspoken thoughts.

Terrence and Feynman had been childhood friends, growing up side by side. This gave Terrence a unique insight into Feynman’s thought processes.

He’s just a physicist, yet…

“…if he could harness the power of science.”

He could command a level of influence that even the highest authorities couldn’t ignore.

Curious, Terrence logged onto an academic search site and pulled up the recent publications by Aidel and Feynman. The paper, published just yesterday, had already garnered nearly 30 citations—and another one popped up as he watched.

“Unbelievable.”

In the vast expanse of the Great Galaxy, with its sprawling population, such a swift rise in citations was nearly unheard of. Terrence knew this from his own university days when he had dabbled in academic writing.

“That rascal, could he really be a genius?”

As an outsider to the world of academia, Terrence couldn’t be sure. We would have to wait a little longer to see how things would proceed.