Ch.102102. Campfire.

A cloudless, clear sky.

The excessively blue sky looked almost like an ocean.

Under that sky, clothes danced on slanted lines.

Swaying freely in the wind, they resembled fish swimming across the heavens.

“Ah. That was really tough.”

I stretched while watching the fish swimming against the backdrop of the sky.

My muscles were completely knotted from honest labor after so long. The thought suddenly struck me that I’d be suffering from muscle pain tomorrow.

“I told you you’d regret it.”

The Robot grumbled as it watched me pressing my fingers into my already trembling legs and knotted muscles.

The face on the soaking wet Robot’s display was visibly annoyed. As if demanding to know why I hadn’t listened to it.

“Hahaha. Sorry. You worked hard too.”

Winter clothes soaked with water were truly, unbearably heavy.

If I’d known it would be this difficult, I would have just washed the clothes I was wearing.

Despite the Robot’s attempts to dissuade me, I had enthusiastically rolled up my sleeves on this rare clear day, only for things to spiral out of control.

Looking back, I had already washed clothes once at the Robot launch site.

And since I hadn’t even changed into those washed clothes, there was absolutely no reason to go through the trouble of doing laundry.

I must have been caught up in the idea that on a clear day, I should do things that can only be done on clear days.

“But isn’t it rewarding? When else would we get to do something like this?”

Though it was something with no special meaning or reason.

The thought of successfully completing something that could only be done in this moment gave me a sense of self-efficacy I hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Sigh, if Mori is happy, I guess that’s what matters. Cover yourself with this so you don’t catch a cold.”

“Thanks.”

An emotional fulfillment that can’t be obtained from anywhere except through self-acceptance.

Despite my whole body feeling heavy, I smiled brightly, making the Robot speak as if it had no choice but to help as it covered me with a thick blanket.

Having thrown both the clothes I was wearing and my change of clothes into the water, the only thing protecting me from the cold now was the fabric from my choker.

Of course, having grown completely accustomed to the cold, this level of chill didn’t bother me at all.

But that was never a reason to reject a friend’s pure goodwill.

“This should be a good spot to park, right?”

Having satisfactorily finished the laundry, I parked Alexander facing the direction of the wind and started building a fire a short distance away with my back to Alexander.

The sun was already setting. I suddenly thought it would be quite romantic to sit by a campfire under the twilight sky.

“Hmm… the fire’s not catching well. Could you bring me some oil?”

But the fire wouldn’t light properly. The ground was damp, and the cloth and paper I’d kept in my bag had become moist over time, so it wasn’t surprising.

It would have been nice to have dry firewood or branches, but when was the last time I saw an intact tree? I can’t even remember anymore.

“You need to be careful.”

“What are you saying? It’s not like this is my first time.”

So I laid down paper, soaked a cloth in oil, and lit it with a torch to start the fire.

Making a fire in such an open space was inefficient in many ways.

If efficiency was all that mattered, the best option would have been to go into Alexander and just sleep.

It’s warm. It’s familiar. It’s not dangerous, and you don’t need anything special to maintain that environment.

“How can a person always live by efficiency alone?”

I think even the most practical person can live foolishly sometimes.

If what remains is regret, then it would be a waste. But if good feelings remain, then it’s romance.

“When you think of campfires, you think of guitars. I should get mine out too. Help me tune it.”

After confirming the flames were stable, I took out my guitar from the cargo area.

In this place where nothing existed except the emerging stars, us, and the sound of the wind traveling and the crackling of the campfire.

With what anyone would agree is the perfect accompaniment for a guitar, I strummed the six strings of the instrument the Robot handed me after tuning.

E-A-D-G-B-E

My left hand moved freely, not holding down any strings, while my right hand moved just once.

It was a pure action without any rhythm or technique.

Yet the rich sound created by the strings and resonating body spread beautiful tones throughout the world with just that simple movement.

“Hmm. Sounds good.”

The sound that rings with every movement of my hands blends with all the sounds around us.

Just as the campfire retains its own light in the approaching darkness, the guitar that begins to sound gently claims that wherever its sound reaches is its territory.

For someone as insignificantly small as me compared to this enormous planet, this is the easiest and most effective way to reveal my existence along with my domain.

This must be why music and instruments have been loved by people for such a long time.

“Hmm hmm hmm~”

I hum a tune while playing various chords I’ve learned over the past few days. The Robot was the one who taught me the chords, of course.

When I brought out the guitar, the Robot apparently had a music module among the modules it brought out.

Even now, it was displaying chord fingerings and lists of songs that could be played with simple chords on its screen, teaching me.

“I see skies of blue~”

Repeating simple chords over and over. If I played for an expert, they might hit me over the head with this fine guitar, asking how I could produce such unrefined sounds, but the only one singing and listening was me anyway.

As I repeated the same actions, I gradually became more familiar—my hands moved faster and could play simple money chords without looking at the Robot’s face.

In that newfound freedom, I turned what had been just a hummed tune into a song.

A nostalgic song. A forgotten song. A song from long ago, before I was even born.

Honestly, I neither play well nor sing well.

Both were things I rarely got to do.

Fortunately, the guitar sounds decent as long as you get the basic harmonies right.

But the song I sang, relying solely on memory, was a mess.

The rhythm was off, the pitch was strange.

Beyond the display showing lyrics and chords, I could almost see the Robot’s face wearing a terrible expression.

But who cares?

Even if it’s not a perfect song, just being able to hum carelessly under this clear sky—the situation and atmosphere itself is what’s good.

With the thought that things done for enjoyment only need to be enjoyed, I sang until my voice grew hoarse and my fingers bruised.

“Ah. That was delicious. Maybe because it was grilled over the fire.”

After singing until I was exhausted, I grilled and ate the last remaining meat before the gradually diminishing flames went out completely.

Looking at the empty box made me feel a bit sad, but getting decent meat in the first place was nothing short of a miracle.

“Come to think of it, I’ve been really lucky.”

Accidentally meeting the Drone. Finding Alexander in the freezing snowfield where I thought I’d die.

Meeting a chatty Robot and getting so much meat I could have rationed it. And through it all, rarely getting seriously injured or sick.

If even one of all the things I experienced hadn’t happened, or had gone wrong, I probably wouldn’t be here now.

I don’t know if it was the unconscious guidance of past humanity… but whatever it was, I’m grateful.

“There’s nothing left to collect, so let’s leave the empty box here.”

I put the empty box down on the ground. It wasn’t a very large box, so the space created wasn’t much, but strangely, my heart felt empty.

Maybe it’s because I have memories of looking at the meat while eating tasteless canned food, like the old story of hanging fish from the ceiling to eat as a side dish?

“Let’s sleep together here tonight.”

So to fill the emptiness from the vacant space, and to do something I’d wanted to do but couldn’t easily because of the snow, I lay down in the cargo area instead of my usual driver’s seat.

“It’s just less cold than usual, but the wind is chilly. Please go inside to sleep.”

“No.”

As the Robot said, the wind had gotten a bit colder as night fell, but just for tonight, I wanted to fall asleep looking up at the stars. And incidentally, I also wanted to sleep in the same place as my precious friend.

“I have a blanket—and Puppy, so I’ll be fine.”

“Woof!”

“See, he says it’s fine too. Stop worrying and tell me about the stars until I fall asleep.”

“Sigh… alright.”

Under the twinkling stars. I close my eyes to the small voice that sounds like a lullaby.

The campfire went out long ago. But I was neither cold nor in darkness.

I gradually fell asleep in this special moment found within the flow of everyday life.

The bad dreams that always came to torment me.

Just for tonight, they didn’t come.