Ch.9999. Storage.

The world was ending. The sky had turned red, and only dust and ashes silently scattered across the land that had been devoured by massive waves. On a planet where homes were lost overnight and everything people once possessed had vanished, what remained of humanity was dying from an unknown disease.

Just as many forms of life had been born and disappeared throughout the long passage of time, human existence was fading like a mere dot in time. As physical traces left by humans—buildings and vast farmlands—disappeared, all that remained for the survivors was primitive violence born from the instinct to survive.

It was a tragedy. How sad that the end of humanity, which had developed by filling each other’s shortcomings, would ultimately return to the beginning, with people pointing weapons at their own heads after losing everything. In that moment when great disaster struck, the humane humans we once knew were essentially dead.

“The faces aren’t properly drawn, and it’s a somewhat crude painting… but somehow it makes me vividly recall what happened back then. Perhaps the facelessness actually helps with immersion.”

Healthy human bodies melting or swelling beyond recognition. Featherless crows perched on top, pecking at the corpses. Following the stairs down into the basement, what I encountered were such cruel yet vivid murals.

“The atmosphere feels heavy. What could possibly be down here that would make someone paint such images along the entrance?”

“Who knows? We’ll have to go down to see what’s inside. But I think I understand why they painted these. They wanted whoever might see these paintings later to know what happened.”

Long ago, in times before books or even proper writing and speech existed, people drew on cave walls to record what they had seen and experienced, and to pass their knowledge to future generations.

Similarly, whoever built this structure might have wanted to document why the world ended up this way and what happened to humanity, in case someone came looking later.

If that’s the case, the reason they used images rather than text was probably for beings who might arrive long after civilization had disappeared. There was no guarantee that human language or expressions would still exist by then.

“Come to think of it, all the buildings on the top floor had this same feeling. The museum, the art gallery—they were all places meant to record things that emerged throughout human history, preserve them, and show them to others.”

“You’re right. There were many unfinished buildings, but the completed ones were places like photo studios and schools.”

Yes, they were all buildings that embodied and preserved intangible characteristics and values unique to humans, like art, education, and culture.

“Perhaps people who realized time was running out wanted to create places that would not only prevent such history from repeating but also prove that we once existed on this earth.”

We assigned meaning to invisible concepts like love and music.

We attributed value to objects that, even when visible, offered no practical help for survival.

We accessed events we never experienced through records, sometimes empathizing with them, sometimes becoming outraged by them.

In this way, we lived by loving, fearing, respecting, and pursuing many things.

Beyond the mere will to survive, I called these values that made humans uniquely human “humanity.” The murals painted here attempted to capture that “humanity.”

Moving deeper past the depictions of how humanity disappeared, the wide walls were filled with records of how humans existed on this earth as humans—culture and art, knowledge and science, emotions and connections.

So that when future life forms or extraterrestrial beings visited this place in the distant future, they would understand that we weren’t just one of many species that briefly inhabited this planet, but beings with unique culture and values.

It’s often said that books, paintings, and music contain the soul of their creator. This isn’t just because creators put their inner selves into their work, but because through these works, others with completely different life experiences can empathize with and understand the emotions and situations the creator felt.

Similarly, human souls dwelled in this place. Through these paintings, the will of people who wanted to remain eternally alive rather than simply disappearing was vividly transmitted.

At the end of the stairway lined with murals stood a thick door. Without any special procedure, the door opened with a message that living beings had been detected. Beyond it stretched an unfamiliar space with endless black shelves.

“What is all this? It feels like being in a superstore.”

The scene reminded me of supermarkets, now just a memory, but with one major difference—the endless shelves were filled with unidentifiable black boxes.

It didn’t take long to figure out what the boxes contained, or what this place was built for.

“Corn… potatoes… cabbage… these are all seeds?”

“The boxes over here are similar. It seems to be a Seed Vault.”

“Well, these are all records of humanity in a broad sense. They preserved abstract things like music and art, so it would be strange not to preserve these.”

Seeds of basic crops, as well as flowers, tree seeds, herbs—everything here was evidence of humanity living alongside nature, as well as everything humans had cultivated for their use.

“Now I really feel like we’re in ‘The Ark.’ The ark in the Bible must have felt like this too. They preserved all sorts of things so humanity could rise again even after a massive disaster struck the earth.”

As I moved forward examining baskets of seeds preserved with soil as if time had stopped, I soon realized it might be wrong to simply call this place a “Seed Vault.”

If the museum we visited earlier contained the emotional aspects of humanity, this place gathered everything that had actually affected human life, with a scope and breadth of preserved items so vast it deserved a different name.

Beyond plants and flowers, there were statues and instruments that symbolized culture, original paintings, and human recording devices from paper to film to chips. Human traces extended endlessly, making it harder to find something that wasn’t there than something that was.

“It’s touching somehow. It makes me think they never gave up hope until the very end.”

“Looking at this, they must have believed there really was no ‘end.’ As someone with a defined beginning and end, I can’t even imagine it—humans really are interesting. Romantic.”

“Romantic, yes. That means always dreaming of miracles.”

The eyes of people who never lose hope in any situation shine brightly. Perhaps that’s why this place felt bright despite the drab-colored shelves lined up. It felt like hope could spring forth even where there was none.

“I wonder if I dare use any of these items, though.”

From ancient tools to all sorts of objects, there were many things that caught my eye or seemed quite useful.

Would it be right for me to use them, since preserving them has no meaning if no one appears to use them?

Or should I leave them untouched for future generations, following the intentions of those who built this place, since in a world where I’m alone, I won’t be able to use these things for long anyway?

“Here are data chips and tools containing information I don’t know… I wonder if I dare use them?”

The Robot was caught in a similar dilemma. The difference was that I was contemplating in front of musical instruments and small battery-operated devices, while the Robot was in front of tiny chips and robot parts.

“…Should we pretend not to notice each other?”

“…Shall we?”

In this ironic situation where we were both eyeing each other because we had similar thoughts, we ultimately decided to honestly follow our desires. Rationally, we knew such behavior wasn’t quite right, but… well, as long as we’re alive, we can’t always be rational, can we?

“Ahem.”

“Heh heh heh.”

Having suppressed many desires for so long, we decided to act on our impulses just this once. We scattered and soon met again at the end of the shelves, each carrying miscellaneous items. Even the Puppy that had been quietly following us was carrying a large dog treat from somewhere.

Without a word, we organized what we’d gathered into our bags. Unlike me, who had mostly brought items to help with my somewhat boring life—musical instruments and puzzles—the Robot had brought data chips and tools containing medical and scientific knowledge.

Seeing that made me wonder if I’d been too impulsive in what I took, but after hearing the Robot say that enjoying entertainment was also human, I decided to just be shameless about it.

“This place is much bigger than I expected. There’s another space inside.”

“Shall we explore the inside too?”

“Of course. Let’s leave our bags here.”

We had reached the end of the shelves, but another space continued beyond. Another space with the same size and lighting, but instead of shelves, test tubes emitting blue light were arranged along the walls.

I walked around the space, taking in the information panels attached below the test tubes. The panels, which contained information about animals like pigs and horses, indicated that these test tubes contained animal genetic samples.

“…There are human ones too.”

And among them were quite a few human samples. I’m not sure whether to call them donors or subjects.

The detailed descriptions of the sample owners’ names, genders, physical characteristics, and intellectual abilities, written out like resumes, made observers feel strange.