Ch.172Ch.12 – Dream of the Dull-Witted

>> The sixth assistant acquires ‘Administrator (Provisional)’ authority.

>> The sixth assistant succeeds John Crayfield.

>> Find: sixth assistant / Replace: John Crayfield. Now everyone calls the sixth assistant Crayfield.

>> File integrity check

(Ch.1 / Ch.3 / Ch.5 / Ch.7 / Ch.9 / Ch.11 opening files, access records by different users confirmed – No closing file viewing records)

…Complete

>> Reconnecting…stopped.

‘But what should I do?’

Crayfield contemplates. After a brief moment of thought, he realizes he has no method.

‘If you don’t know, you should ask. That sounds like something Crayfield would say.’

Crayfield smiles. He enters a command.

>> Recover: Emma Scully

>> Complete recovery impossible, file damage rate 60%

>> Would you like to select partial recovery? Y / N

>> Y.

>> Recovery complete.

>> Reconnecting…successful.

* * * * *

July 18, 1929. 7:42 PM

Street in front of Trieste Theater

Pollard Island

Crayfield rises again. The two have now become one. Biting his lower lip, he runs to do what must be done.

Nightjars fly about, and arms continue to stir the earth. That unholy thing from the abyss is trying to climb up.

But there is always a way. Crayfield rushed toward Catherine Scully. Staggering and twisting his ankle, he still manages to pounce on her.

“What are you doing?!”

He reaches inside Catherine Scully’s shirt and pulls out the medallion. Scully grabs the medallion in shock.

“Fine, Federal Security Agent. I don’t care if you slap me or whatever, but right now there’s no one else who can do this. Only you can save us. When you were young, you said you saw something when you fiddled with the medallion. Is that right?”

“Yes. But why?”

“Back then, did you just touch it silently? Or did you recite some song or spell?”

Scully tightly closed her eyes.

“…Actually, I didn’t just touch it. I sang a song. With Emma.”

“What song?”

“…Tooth Fairy, I’ll give you my old tooth, please give me a new tooth.”

Scully’s face reddened. Crayfield had to work hard to manage his expression. Well, Scully must have had her girlhood too.

So, Crayfield wrapped his arm around Scully’s waist. He lifts her up as if inviting her to dance.

“Good. I’ll hold you, so sing a song. That tooth fairy thing, quickly!”

A horrific cry is heard. ‘It’ howls from across the sea. Scully staggers. Crayfield embraces her tightly.

“Can’t… breathe…”

“Hurry!”

“Damn it.” Scully strongly embraced Crayfield’s body. Being asked to sing while the ground shook violently beneath them was absurd, but doing crazy things in a crazy situation was perfectly normal, wasn’t it?

“…Tooth Fairy, Tooth Fairy, I’ll give you my old tooth, please give me a new one. It’s a small and cute tooth that was wobbling until just now… I’ll give you something small and cute, please give me something big and strong…”

The song broke off. Crayfield urged her on.

“That’s all I can remember…”

“Is that so? Then let’s do it together. Even motorcycles need a few kicks to start sometimes.”

“You’re insane…”

Despite sighing deeply, Scully followed along as Crayfield recited each line.

“Tooth Fairy, Tooth Fairy, I’ll give you my old tooth, please give me a new one. It’s a small and cute tooth that was wobbling until just now. I’ll give you something small and cute, please give me something big and strong.”

“Tooth Fairy, Tooth Fairy, I’ll give you my old tooth, please give me a new one. It’s a small and cute tooth that was wobbling until just now. I’ll give you something small and cute, please give me something big and strong.”

It approaches. It tries to destroy everything. The child who lost its father destroys the altar.

“Tooth Fairy…”

Scully burrows into Crayfield’s embrace. His clothes become wet with her flowing tears. But despair is not all that remains.

Longing. It warms the clothes. It adds rhythm to the song. It makes memories grow. It blows away the dust of dry years, and a tiny, colorful, sunflower-shaped watering can sprays water with a whoosh.

A small trowel. The memory of being terrified at the sight of a wriggling earthworm. Emma playfully throwing the bug onto her sister’s skirt. Catherine crying loudly in surprise. Emma being scolded by their mother, yet still sticking out her tongue to tease her twin.

“Tooth Fairy. Tooth Fairy. I’ll give you my old tooth, please give me a new one. It’s a small… small… cute… sob… cu…”

Scully’s voice breaks. Unable to hold on any longer, she crumbles. Crayfield couldn’t urge her further.

[It’s a small and cute tooth]

Crayfield is pushed backward.

[Get away, you pervert. Were you thinking of handling my sister like that? What a creep! She’s too good for you.]

Crayfield, having fallen on his backside, looks up at the priestess in pure white. The last priestess of Hyperborea embraces Catherine Scully from behind and kisses her cheek.

“…Emma?”

[Silly. You got the lyrics wrong. It’s not ‘wobbling until just now,’ it’s ‘fidgeting until just now.’ Come on, let’s sing it again?]

Catherine Scully stands up straight. Emma Scully, embracing her from behind, takes hold of the medallion. The sisters lift the single medallion together.

“[Tooth Fairy. Tooth Fairy. I’ll give you my old tooth, please give me a new one. It’s a small and cute tooth that was fidgeting until just now. I’ll give you something small and cute, please give me something big and strong]”

The medallion shatters.

The sky opens fully. Just as a lake reflects the sky exactly as it is, the sky reflects the earth exactly as it is. An inverted earth. An inverted world.

So, this should rightfully be called an ascension.

But the shape of the reflected world is a bit different. An ivory tower. A place where unnamed massive beings walk with thundering steps. Flower-scented winds blow down from snow-covered mountains, and men and women in thousand-layered clothes walk freely, singing in the square.

It’s a song calling to you.

* You accept your destiny *

* You leave me *

Let us go. Let us go. Let us go unbound.

You sing the song with sobs. Terrible things, daytime nightmares, unfamiliar delusions, receive your command and fade away.

Let us go. Let us go. Let us go unbound.

Dead whales drift back to sea with the mist of R’lyeh. Whales in their mother’s embrace once again sing chirp-chirp, splashing with their tails, disappearing with the foam.

Let us go…

Pollard Island, touched by your hand, regains stability. What was split rejoins, what was scattered gathers, what was floating settles. Like an ointment applied to wounds and scars, it emits heat at first, but soon becomes comfortable.

The King in the Silver Mask returns to his dwelling. Having received his answer, he claps with satisfaction.

– That was the answer. I shall visit again.

Being an entity that seeks amusement, he surely will.

Let us go. Quickly, let us go.

Terrible things are swept up through the open door of Hyperborea. But the people of the earth, those who were originally of the earth, are not.

You see the connections between people. You see strong bonds. Relationships and grudges, love and hatred, deception and honesty.

But all these things are relationships. Relationships firmly bind people to this land now.

But your eyes see something else too.

Memories of pain. Memories of fear. Experiences of being overwhelmed. Helplessness. Distrust. Defeat. Anger. Such emotions sufficient to sever the bonds that tie people together.

Look at those nightjars. Look at the Deep Ones. They severed their own bonds, so even if ropes are thrown to them from outside, they reject them.

There is no room for them.

So you bestow a blessing.

Become dull. Forget. The day will come when you understand the meaning of what you’ve experienced, so store it away until then.

Do not try to find answers. What’s the point of knowing answers you cannot understand?

The answers will find you. Then, open the door.

Negative and wicked memories leave people’s minds. They soar toward the shadow of Hyperborea.

But there are those who refuse.

Sister Abassina shakes her head.

“No.”

You see the line etched between the ‘I’ you emerged from and Abassina. Love and understanding, solidarity and affection.

I bound Abassina to the world, and Abassina holds me to the world. The bond will not be broken.

“It’s mine. I can’t give it to anyone.”

Aurora refuses.

You see the line etched between the ‘I’ you emerged from and Aurora. You glimpse tender flesh between rough bark.

I saved Aurora and Aurora will make me able to live.

[Just try touching my sister]

“Just try touching my sister.”

The sisters refuse too. Their bond with ‘me’ is somewhat special. Camaraderie. Fellowship. Sharing the same experiences, the same sorrows, and the same glory of resurrection. Taking that away would be too cruel.

And you also see love that is just beginning to bud.

“It would be troublesome if we forgot.”

Father Michael and the nuns shrug their shoulders. They have already returned to human form. You see countless lines connecting Abassina and me.

If that is their wish… you do not insist on taking it away.

They are a tight-knit net. People who pull and protect each other. The scissors of oblivion will not cut their threads.

Finally, the most heterogeneous being.

Clarice Holmes glares at you. More precisely, she tries to understand.

She has already come too far to be human. Only a piece of her heart remains human, and that is solely for anger.

So she is not worth worrying about.

Having finished the lighter matters appropriately…

You look at Mars. The girl of Mars gently lifts her skirt. A five-year-old child who is 4.6 billion years old. It would be better not to trust that child’s promises.

Don’t children naturally play tricks? So, you decide to leave her be.

Finally.

You look at the abomination you gave birth to.

The result of action. The terrible yesterday. If it hadn’t been for you… I could have soared higher. Your regret. That terrible thing you wish had never existed, named Cthulhu.

It is not just because it is unknown. It is not just because it is indescribable.

What has not come can always change.

What has not come can either lift life up or throw it down.

But what has already come?

What has already come but been left behind?

It binds the legs. It bites the ankle and won’t let go.

If it hadn’t been for you. If that choice hadn’t been made. If I had done this then…

The thought that if I had done this, things would have been better than they are now.

In reverse.

The realization that past decisions and events were never the best for me.

Your past self who could have chosen better but didn’t.

– So, it should rightfully be called fear.

Not the irresistible tomorrow of the unknown.

A present better than the present.

A now better than the now.

Such an unknown world will exist.

The sorrow of being exiled from that place.

Could have been better.

The fact that it couldn’t be.

The fact that it wasn’t.

The fact that one can never go back.

Makes it fearful.

– Ah. Azathoth. Foolish name.

Ia. Ia. Cthulhu Fhtagn.

It does not die. It does not fade. All one can do is appease it.

It’s okay, my son. My daughter.

You lived well. You fought well. You overcame well and finally reached here.

I know.

Of course I know.

That it doesn’t resonate.

That’s why we need hands.

Hands that caress, embrace, and encourage.

We can be that for each other.

Hands that can leave dreams as dreams.

Ia – Ia – Cthulhu Fhtagn!

Dead Cthulhu waits dreaming in R’lyeh.

Dead Cthulhu waits dreaming in R’lyeh, dreaming of a today that could have been better.

Dead Cthulhu waits dreaming in R’lyeh, dreaming of a today that could have been better, waiting for tomorrow.

Your eyes close.

You lift your head and look at the sky.

Taking a deep breath, you depart. You depart.

To dream your own dreams again, you advance into the vast sea.

Let us go. Let us go.

Foolish one. Let us go.

Soothing anxiety, singing songs, dreaming dreams of the unknown, let us go.

Wherever you go, song will accompany you.

Following the thread of the story, let us sleep dreaming a thousand and one dreams.

You. Tyrant.

Just by closing your eyes to each other,

Just by turning away from each other,

Tyrant who can close a world.

Let us go.

To dream another dream.

Someday you will forget today.

Someday you will experience the same pain.

Because you are dull.

But, as you have always done,

You will rise.

* * * * *

Because you exist, the world exists too.

The one who made this world possible.

The one who made this world exist.

The true mastermind of this world.

It is you.

You have triumphed.

* * * * *

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