Ch.6969. Museum.

69.

I always wander around with my drone activated because I want to communicate, living my life by spilling out everything—both spoken and unspoken words—while looking at the drone.

But even I have a few secrets I never speak aloud.

For instance, secrets like “I’ve been having nightmares more frequently than before.”

“Yaaawn…”

“Mori. Did you not sleep well last night?”

“Hmm… well, yes.”

Whenever I lie down to sleep, I feel as if an invisible demon climbs on top of my body.

This demon, wearing the mask of what we call imagination, puts me to sleep while showing me “possibilities” based on my memories and thoughts.

The floor splattered with blood and me dying in a terrible state on top of it.

Me walking through a snowy field during a blizzard, unable to receive help from anyone, collapsing, being covered by snow, and disappearing from the world.

It’s not new that I have nightmares about ending up like that, considering I live in ruins where countless corpses lie around.

But… the dreams I’ve been having recently are a bit different.

They’re still nightmares, but while previous ones tormented me by showing the worst deaths I could imagine…

Recent nightmares make me feel an intense “sense of reality” rather than direct despair or fear.

“…Is nobody here?”

After a difficult journey, I arrive at Paradise, but the buildings are collapsed and no one remains.

In a space where only my voice barely echoes, I bite my lip and turn around to find the drone, Robot, and Puppy all buried in snow, having lost their light.

With Alexander also immobilized, leaving me unable to go anywhere…

I stand alone in a world where no one remains, repeating like a broken doll—asking why nobody is here.

Compared to nightmares I’ve had before, I’m not severely injured or dying immediately.

I’m simply standing in a space that seems to embody my anxiety and loneliness.

Even after having the same dream multiple times, I don’t realize it’s a dream until just before waking up.

Even after waking, I have to check whether what I just experienced was a dream—these realistic dreams torment me more than any nightmare.

—What happens to me if there really are no living people in Paradise?

Completely original creation—sadly doesn’t exist.

What people call creation is merely adding possibilities to given reality, or adding a spoonful of one’s own desires.

Imagination is the observational power and flexibility that allows you to see possibilities others haven’t discovered yet, or to face your desires as they are and apply them to reality.

Dreams are the same. Humans often deny reality because they blindly desire happiness, a passive pleasure. We deny the world to assert our own validity.

I’m a liar. That’s why sometimes dreams that accept reality as it is—along with my memories and sensory experiences—can be more accurate.

Is what I dreamed merely a vain delusion embodying my anxiety?

Or is it a patchwork future of reality that I’m aware of but turning away from?

I don’t believe in prophecies that speak of events hundreds of years in the future.

But since the world operates on causality, I think you can glimpse some of the future if you have reasonable grounds.

In that sense, I’ve been feeling anxious every day.

Contrary to my ideal, I’ve realized the possibility that—there might be no one in Paradise, and I might be the only being alive in human form in this world.

Unlike wandering without a clear purpose, travel has a definite destination. In that sense, I became a traveler rather than a wanderer at some point.

I don’t know whether becoming a traveler was voluntary or involuntary. But I started walking the journey to reach the end. And now I’m getting close to that end.

Yet my life hasn’t changed. The world around me is still just covered in snow.

[Hospitals look similar regardless of the era]

[Except for robots being teachers, it looks exactly like our school.]

Moreover, countless messages expressing familiarity with schools or hospitals that should have disappeared in the past.

Such messages soon disappear from the blue screen, perhaps because the drone judges them as “messages that shouldn’t be transmitted,” but even if they’re made invisible, the memories remain.

My suspicions only deepened with messages that couldn’t possibly be from people living in the same time as me, and what I now firmly believe is intentional censorship of messages.

I keep smiling on the outside, thinking there’s no benefit in expressing these anxious feelings.

‘If that’s true, what should I do?’

The shadow was growing darker.

More than the realistic question of how past and future could be connected…

I felt greater anxiety that the light I had been following, thinking it was the only brightness, might actually be on the other side of glass I couldn’t cross.

And…

What are people from the past thinking as they watch my videos—as they listen to my words?

What are they hoping for from me, who’s just wandering lonely, dropped alone in a world that has already been destroyed?

[Getting closer to the light!]

[Maybe the destination is right in front of you.]

New message…

New message…

New message…

“Ha.”

The more I fall into these thoughts, the more frequently and abundantly messages come. As if telling me to have hope.

Nothing is natural. Now I can’t tell what’s coincidence and what isn’t.

Nevertheless, I can’t help but lift my lips.

“Wow, lots of messages today. We must be getting closer to the day we’ll meet.”

I lie with a smiling face.

To myself.

* * *

—♬♪

“Piano music…?”

I had just stepped outside for a moment when Alexander ran out of fuel as we were moving forward aimlessly. From somewhere, the faint sound of an instrument could be heard.

I moved Alexander in the direction of the sound as if entranced.

“Is this the place where you said you detected ‘light’?”

“It seems so.”

The sound grew louder as we moved forward.

When we passed over the ruins of a massive building, we discovered a structure with white outer walls, columns, and transparent glass.

From the building, which looked like some kind of temple, music and a faint light were emanating.

“This doesn’t seem like an ordinary place in many ways.”

Muttering that, I got off Alexander, who had carried me into the building, and looked around. The spacious hall was extremely beautiful and clean, but also empty.

Still, compared to other buildings, it was strangely clean yet didn’t feel particularly lonely.

Maybe because of the light. Or perhaps because of the piano music that kept playing.

“Is anyone here?”

I called out loudly. This space was unnaturally clean.

The hospital and school were clean too, but not to this extent where not even a speck of dust was visible.

Someone or something is maintaining this place. I don’t know if it’s human or robot, but I raised my voice hoping to meet them. However, all that came back was the echo of my voice in the vast space.

…It seemed no one was nearby. Or perhaps only cleaning robots without self-awareness remained, repeating their programmed actions.

“So what is this place?”

The ceiling lights and each pattern carved into the marble are so elaborate that you can immediately tell they’re works of art that took great effort.

I’ve seen places with lavish decorations like hotel lobbies before, but this feels fundamentally different.

What’s beyond that corridor over there?

“It seems we’ve entered a museum.”

“A museum?”

“Yes. To be precise, a cultural museum. A place where artworks that were famous or had a significant impact on human culture are collected.”

A museum, huh. It certainly looked like the perfect place to display something extraordinary and important.

“Isn’t this building a bit small for a museum?”

However, this building was quite small compared to others I’ve seen.

Are there so few artworks that influenced human culture?

I don’t know what the robot means by “culture,” but even considering just the basics of art, music, and literature, their history is incredibly vast.

The space seems far too small to contain culture that has continued for thousands of years. Did they select only the truly important pieces?

“Could you come this way for now? I don’t know much about the structure here either, but I’ll do my best to guide you today!”

“Alright. I’m a bit excited to see what’s here.”

Thinking that perhaps there might be paintings or artworks I’m familiar with, I followed the robot.

“Ah, this is the first exhibit! Would you like to go in?”

Alright. I nodded and opened the firmly closed door.

“Huh? What is this?”

And what I faced was just a single chair sitting alone in a small enclosed room and one pure white frame hanging on the wall.