Chapter 76

Chapter 76

From Cosmic Rascal to Professor.

Episode 76: The Guy Writing A Thesis In Prison (3).

A week into my incarceration, the inability to work on my thesis gnawed at me, fueling a deep-seated sadness. Determined to change my circumstances, I decided to alter my behavior.

Gaining the guards’ trust was crucial. Each morning, I woke up before anyone else, meticulously made my bed, and arranged my clothes with precision. When ordered to run 50 laps around the yard before breakfast, I complied without a word of protest, curbing any sarcastic remarks that I might have previously made.

Another two weeks crawled by.

“Two weeks without any signs of madness. It’s clear that the Outer God has left him,” one guard observed.

Even the girl, the model prisoner in the adjacent cell, wasn’t spared occasional beatings. I, however, remained unscathed. Despite the guard’s comment, Cartesia was still a constant presence by my side.

“Inmate number 888888. How are you feeling? Do you know who you are?” a guard inquired one day.

“I don’t know.”

“Why do you think you don’t know?”

“My senses are unreliable now. The Outer God could return at any moment. It’s difficult to assert anything with certainty except for my existence, which seems to be under the control of such an entity.”

“……Impressive.”

The guard, named Weisel, sighed daily under the burden of paperwork.

“You’re completely different from the first day when you showed signs of madness. Who would have guessed that the silent guy was actually quite the conversationalist?” he remarked.

“Thank you.”

“Where are you from?”

At his question, I offered only a slight smile, choosing not to respond. Personal conversations between prisoners and guards were prohibited.

“You even remember the rules well,” he noted, acknowledging my restraint.

The next morning, Instructor Weisel couldn’t resist any longer and began rifling through my documents.

“Aidel von Reinhardt, seventeen years old. A top entrant at Stellarium Academia,” he read aloud, his voice tinged with surprise. “Seems you’re quite the prodigy.”

His reaction indicated that he was almost persuaded. I didn’t rush him; instead, I patiently waited for him to fully take the bait. Over the next four days, I maintained a polite demeanor around Instructor Weisel and went about my daily routines.

By the fifth week, he bit the bait.

“It’s rare to see someone show no signs of instability for nearly a month. You might be released in three months.”

“Thank you, but perhaps it’s best if I stay a bit longer, just to be certain,” I replied.

Instructor Weisel paused, a long “Oh-ho” escaping him before he fell silent. After a moment, he changed the subject. “Do you have any hobbies?”

“Reading.”

“Reading, I see. What kind of books do you enjoy?”

“I’m open to all genres, but I have a particular interest in mathematics and science.”

“Math and science, interesting. Do you ever write?”

“I haven’t had much chance to, but if I had some paper and a pen, perhaps I could try.”

“Wait… follow me.”

Guard Weisel escorted me to the computer room. The desk was cluttered with documents, a paper cup stained with coffee rings, and triple monitors layered with dust. It was a clear reflection of the occupant’s hectic life and heavy workload.

He opened a notepad on the screen and handed me a Bluetooth keyboard. “Do you know how to type?”

“Of course,” I replied.

“Write something. Anything.”

“Anything, you say?”

“Yes, anything.”

Guard Weisel gestured for me to pull the chair closer. I settled in, eyes fixed on the monitor, pondering what this person might need most at the moment.

“I need to submit a report.”

That was enough for me to understand. Suppressing a chuckle, I began to type. What emerged was not just any text but a diary. Specifically, it was a report structured like a diary entry. It detailed the onset of someone’s madness, the manifestations, the triggers, how it was managed, and what was likely to unfold in the future.

What should have been a straightforward report for a guard to write and submit to superiors was crafted with the detail and narrative flair of an autobiographical novel. There was no hesitation in my typing, which was impressively fast—almost at a stenographer’s level. I could have gone faster, but I didn’t want to risk drawing undue attention to myself by appearing unnaturally skilled.

Had it been about 30 minutes?

“Student.”

The way Guard Weisel addressed me had subtly shifted.

The day began under a somewhat gloomy cloud. As soon as I awoke, the sound of crying filtered through from the next room.

Inmate number 888887, noted for excessive emotions at 5:41 AM. Reason for sobbing: unknown.

I scribbled that quickly in my notebook before swinging open the cell door. I shoved the key into my pocket and made my way to the computer room.

“Officer, did you get any sleep last night?”

“Oh? Yeah, a bit.”

“Take a short break. I’ll tidy up here.”

By the sixth week of my confinement, I had managed to secure a few small privileges within the prison. A fresh blanket was allotted to me, and I received three notebooks—one for keeping records and the other two for my research notes.

The ‘God of Wisdom and Curiosity’ finds your research notes intriguing.

My freedom to roam was based on a simple principle. Most of the individuals confined here were once ordinary, law-abiding citizens. (Even before being overtaken by the Outer Gods, very few had any history of criminal behavior.)

Here, the guards were tasked with managing madness, not merely overseeing people. If an inmate showed no signs of madness over an extended period, they would be gradually granted more freedoms under careful observation.

Upon arriving at work each day, I first organized the documents and brewed some coffee. Then, settling in front of the monitor, I began my duties. I meticulously monitored the conditions of tens of thousands of individuals. At any sign of madness, I would sound the alarm without a second thought. For any notable incidents, I prepared detailed reports and saved them.

During my shifts, Guard Weisel often slept soundly.

The ‘God of Wisdom and Curiosity’ is feeling challenged.

The planet Alcatraz is known for its high ether density. This condition generally makes it inhospitable for Outer Gods over long durations. According to Guard Weisel, Outer Gods typically depart about three weeks after they relinquish their possessed hosts. Cartesia, however, who has lasted six weeks, was the exception.

“I’m close to my limit. Unless I bring my true body, it might be hard to last beyond two months in this incarnate form.”

So, you’re considering leaving?

“…That’s not an option. Things are just starting to get interesting.”

The bell rang with a prolonged, echoing ding, signaling mealtime. I set aside the document I was working on and nudged the instructor awake.

“Guard, it’s lunchtime.”

“Mm, is it that time already?” Guard Weisel rubbed his eyes and slowly made his way to his seat. He yawned deeply, then leaned over to check my work.

“Your skill is still unbelievable,” he remarked, stroking his chin with a hint of amusement. “Honestly, student, this is beyond my expectations. I’d feel guilty if I didn’t reward you for such exceptional work.”

This was the moment I had been waiting for. There were many things I desired, but I knew that even the longest journey begins with a single step. Should I start with the simplest of requests?

“I would like permission to view the letters or emails sent to me.”

The response was swift. “That much is fine.”

“Terrence, good news!”

Feynman burst into Terrence’s office early in the morning, his energy reminiscent of a child on a sugar rush.

“What’s happened?”

“We’ve finally got the clearance to send emails to Aidel!”

Terrence clicked his tongue. For weeks, Feynman had been tirelessly lobbying the scientific community to secure Aidel’s release from Alcatraz.

“Take a look at this. It’s the paper I co-authored with my student!”

The publication of the Feynman-Reinhardt Model caused a stir in the field of particle physics. It provided a groundbreaking solution to the long-standing mystery of gravity-ether unification. However, that was the extent of its reach.

While Aidel von Reinhardt’s name started gaining traction within the physics circles, it barely made a ripple elsewhere. Scientific theories, after all, needed to be lucrative to capture the wider public’s attention. By that measure, the paper by Aidel and Feynman fell short.

Realizing the need for a different approach, Professor Feynman had written to Alcatraz, requesting a visit. The response was discouraging.

Due to potential interference by Outer Gods during communication, individuals diagnosed with mania are prohibited from external contact.

The request was denied.

However, today, that restriction has been unexpectedly lifted, but only for Aidel.

“It seems his condition is improving. That’s indeed good news.” Terrence said, his tone mixed with mild interest and empathy for Feynman’s situation.

“Now’s not the moment to delay. I need to write to Aidel immediately.”

“What will you say?”

“I think I’ll start with a simple check-in on his well-being.”

Feynman quickly attached a recent follow-up research paper and began typing the email to send to Alcatraz. His fingers flew across the keyboard, driven by a mix of excitement and urgency.

At the same time, the same news reached two other individuals, Rustila and Zelnya.

The next day, I received four emails. I opened the one from Sonia first.

Lady Ceti has been transferred to the Holy Spirit House for treatment. Your father and mother are also aware of this situation. Please do not worry too much, young master.

The message was written in a stiff tone, typical of a machine.

The next email was from Rustila. As soon as I opened it, I was overwhelmed by a flood of text. The gist was that everything was under control. Ceti was now in a stable condition, and Christine had resumed attending school after her treatment. Even Miss Kendra had miraculously managed to reattach her arm.

Aidel, I miss you.

This last sentence carried a weight of emotion. It wasn’t just about missing someone; it was laden with the uncertainty of how long Rustila could cope, given Ceti’s condition. The reaction of her parents would be crucial. I knew I needed to return as soon as possible, but that was easier said than done.

I clicked my tongue in frustration and opened the email from Zelnya.

Academic Transcript

I’m sending this because the homeroom teacher asked. Remember, the practical exam this time has been invalidated.

And, make sure you return before the end of summer vacation. I’ll make sure to step on you properly in the second semester.

I chuckled, shaking my head as I wiped my face.

“Is this an academic transcript?” Wiesel, the warden, peered over my transcript and ranking, his eyes wide with astonishment.

“The constellations are indifferent, indeed. To think that no one recognized such a prodigy until the Outer Gods intervened.”

I glanced indifferently at the ‘1’ displayed on the monitor. Honestly, it felt like an excessive rank. Sure, with the computational aid of Cartesia, I managed to reach this pinnacle. While I had put in some effort, it was hardly the deciding factor. Humility is a virtue, after all.

Soon, only one email remained in my inbox. No, that wasn’t quite right.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

Emails began arriving in real time. Each began with, ‘Dear Mr. Aidel, it’s been a while.’ Yet, their contents were unexpectedly substantial.

I have compiled the academic comments on the paper we co-authored. I hope you find them useful.

Here is a recent review paper on cosmology. I know Alcatraz doesn’t have access to journal subscriptions, so I’ve attached the file directly. Please study it diligently.

These are some idea notes I jotted down during discussions with fellow professors. Please review them and let me know if you find anything of interest.

I have attached the RATEX license key. Should you find yourself in a position to draft a paper, please make use of this.

Drip.

“Ha, student. What’s the matter?”

“Sniff, sob, sob…!”

My body shook as I bit my fist.

“What is it, a fit of madness? Ah… I see. It’s a letter from your girlfriend. She misses you, huh.”

At last, I was ready to write my thesis.