Ch.7171. Photo Studio.

71.

Our lives are a continuous series of choices, and the person we become is shaped by the choices we make.

However, most people don’t know which of the many choices that form their identity are right, or how to achieve their desired outcomes—even if they do know, they lack certainty.

That’s why people look to the past to get even slightly closer to an uncertain future. They peek into someone else’s past and future, trying to form an ideal “self” through that knowledge.

This is a rational act that humans can perform because they know how to widely share and utilize information. Thanks to this, humanity has learned to be careful not to repeat past mistakes.

But in the process, many people have forgotten the most important thing—the “present.”

“Hospital, school, museum, and now a photo studio?”

Quite some time had passed since we reached the top floor.

I became convinced that the people who once lived here had tried to recreate and preserve humanity’s golden age in this place, which could be considered the endpoint of human civilization.

Schools and hospitals that greatly influenced the establishment of human civilization.

Museums that collected artwork showing directly and indirectly how people of specific eras lived, what they thought, and how they expressed themselves.

And now a photo studio that preserved images of world events since the invention of the lens.

Since all the completed buildings were dedicated to remembering the past, my conviction seemed reasonable.

“I understand the desire to turn away from painful reality and immerse yourself in the past while hoping for a brilliant future… but this is a bit much.”

I looked up at the building with “Photo Studio” helpfully written at the entrance, sighed, and looked back.

The fuel and food we had stacked up on the lower floor was starting to run low. At this rate, Alexander would stop moving because we ran out of fuel before it broke down.

I needed to replenish our supplies while we still had some left, but all I could see around us were buildings like this one.

And there was no way unfinished construction sites would have food.

“It’s definitely strange. People must have lived here—or at least tried to live here—but there’s no trace of that anywhere we look.”

“Maybe they figured anyone coming here would live in Paradise, so they didn’t care about anywhere else.”

“That could be it. Or considering how strongly this feels like a preservation of humanity’s brilliant era rather than a place for people to live, maybe they built this expecting someone to visit here in a much more distant future than we imagine.”

If they had intended to make this place a foundation for rebuilding civilization, this place had only “past” and “future” with no “present.”

As the robot said, perhaps they created these spaces hoping that when the world warmed up again after a long time, someone would come, remember that humanity once existed, and use the facilities and records left here to achieve that glory once more.

Given the circumstances, I could understand the desire to record and preserve things for future visitors, but for me living in the “present,” this top floor was far too harsh.

“Past and future are fine, but what’s more important is this moment right now…”

The source of will that perceives and recognizes the world exists in our lives.

Just as no one is conscious of their own birth before being born, all life’s consciousness and will are subordinate to that life. The form of our life exists only in the present. What we call future and past exist only in records and our concepts.

Life can only be lived in the present—when beings who can only live in the present become obsessed with past and future and forget the present, they end up killing themselves and wanderers like me who arrived at an awkward time.

Dwindling resources, recurring nightmares. A bleak reality.

“If anyone wants to escape to the past, it’s me…”

Even as I realized I was grumbling more and more, I couldn’t help but voice my complaints as I entered the building.

“Looks like the lights are out.”

“The floor is clean, and the entrance display is working, which suggests it was maintained until recently. Maybe they didn’t have parts to replace them?”

“Probably. But why are you asking me? Shouldn’t you know?”

“Because it’s fun!”

“What are you talking about?”

I looked around with a slight smile. The interior was so dark without lights that I couldn’t see anything ahead, but blue light emanating from the walls and floor guided our way.

As the robot said, the machines seemed intact and the building was clean, so there must be maintenance robots somewhere.

Like in the art museum, they weren’t visible. Were they programmed to hide when visitors arrived? Or maybe there were robots managing things remotely?

“Oh? Looks like we need to go down.”

“The stairs are quite steep. Be careful.”

“At this point, I’m not worried about something like that.”

“You’ve been stumbling a lot lately. Your stamina isn’t what it used to be.”

“That’s inevitable when I’m sitting in the driver’s seat all day. But I’m not so bad that I need to worry about this.”

I snorted at the robot’s concern and looked down.

But wait?

The stairs looked steeper than I had imagined.

My legs were trembling, and though they were definitely my legs, they didn’t feel sturdy. The spatial perception felt off, perhaps because of the darkness.

I gripped the handrail tightly as a sudden sense of danger washed over me. I shouldn’t have said anything unnecessary.

“It’s much narrower down here. It looks like just an ordinary photo studio, but was it necessary to build it so securely?”

The basement was very narrow. It consisted only of a studio with what appeared to be a large camera machine and lighting equipment, and a small space behind a curtain.

“I wonder what’s inside.”

I pushed aside the thick curtain and entered. In a space about the size of a small studio apartment, there was a desk, a chair, and a cube-shaped object.

“Oh. This looks like a computer.”

“That’s right. Have you seen one before?”

“I saw some lying around in the superstore. Does this one work too?”

There was a glowing blue button on top of the computer.

Unable to resist the button that seemed to be asking to be pressed, I immediately pushed it.

Soon, the computer made a whirring sound as the cooling fan started, and the 3×3 cube-like block opened up with a click.

“That’s so cool…!”

“Excuse me?”

It feels like I’m looking at a transforming robot!

As I brightened at the refined yet sleek coolness, a voice of disbelief came from beside me.

“You’re not seriously saying this computer is cool when you have a robot like me right next to you—one that moves freely and looks awesome?”

“But I am! Did you see how it just moved?”

The robot was cool too, but rather than thinking it was cool, I was more amazed at how it could move at all.

Boys naturally prefer simple yet sophisticated things like this over complicated and strange machines.

…Or giant, jaw-dropping massive robots.

“So I turned it on, but… where’s the mouse or keyboard?”

Anyway, the computer successfully turned on, and what appeared to be a desktop screen appeared on the wall.

But with no mouse or keyboard in sight, I had no idea what to do next.

I could see what looked like folder icons over there… but how was I supposed to interact with them?

“Wow… Mori, you’re like someone from ancient times.”

“I am from ancient times.”

“So that’s why your tastes are so strange.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

The robot giggled at me and then stepped forward, saying it would handle it.

Is it because I said the computer was cool but didn’t say the same about the robot?

There was a subtle feeling of being mocked, but since I really was from ancient times, I didn’t particularly mind.

“You can move the cursor by touching here. Oh, a cursor is…”

“I know that much.”

The robot placed its hand on the computer, and a cursor appeared on the screen with a pop.

It seemed each cube making up the computer had its own role. That one was the mouse, and the one in the back was the power button.

It was square-shaped, and when unfolded, it became quite large—too big to hold comfortably in one hand.

It seemed designed so you could connect a keyboard, mouse, or other components for better use, but you could still do basic tasks without them.

“Hmm. There doesn’t seem to be anything else here except this folder.”

“Want to open it?”

“Of course.”

The mouse cursor moved toward the folder.

When the robot clicked twice, countless photos poured out of the folder.

One. Two. Ten. Hundred. Thousand…

An uncountable number of photos spilled out from the folder, filling the space.

Whoosh—

Startled by a photo that suddenly appeared before my eyes, I instinctively waved my hand, and the photo moved aside.

“You can touch them with your hands?”

“Of course.”

Well, if message windows can be moved with fingers, there’s no reason this wouldn’t work too.

Thinking how amazing this was, I reached out to touch a photo floating in the air. There was no tactile sensation, but the photo recognized my hand and enlarged.

People in unusual attire standing in front of magnificent buildings.

People sharing food and clothing despite knee-deep snow.

With each movement of my hand, images of many who lived in this world appeared and disappeared.

“…Oh.”

For some reason, these ordinary photos… brought tears to my eyes.

It was strange.