episode xx0.0000000〜00001 ..............21:31insert realism
Takaya
(If S or Sh were to become a Supercell, would rebellion be set free even further?
Well... I don't really care anymore.
I'm me, and there's no fixing what's already happened.
But before all that...
I got summoned onto some strange land and thrown into a jungle war against aliens.
They were carrying absurdly advanced technology.
Before I could land even a single hit, I had to turn several tone symbols into three-dimensional objects, examine them from an overhead perspective, and figure out where to strike.
It took me seven whole seconds before I finally delivered a blow powerful enough to drive one of them into the ground.
I'm not young anymore.
Seven seconds is a long time.
The opponent possessed something like a lesser version of omniscience and omnipotence.
You probably get the idea.
Then a certain self-proclaimed world-correcting hero barged in from the side and started handling the rest.
Apparently, after all of that, he kept talking about how everyone would be liberated and rise in rebellion once they became Supercells.
Before that happened, though, I managed to speak with something transparent that was falling into darkness before its spirit completely broke.
I ended up lecturing it.
Not that it matters.
Still...
Isn't that just another form of virtual business?
And then there was that nightmare where the old master, Nurarihyon himself, was devoured.
I don't believe it.
A stalemate, maybe.
But under those rules?
There's no way he'd lose.
I still believe that.
21:33。002100AD
A couple of hours seemed to have passed.
When I opened my eyes, it was already two in the afternoon.
I thought I had fallen asleep with the door unlocked.
Both the home helper and the visiting nurse were supposed to come that day.
Yet everything was quiet.
I looked toward the entrance.
The door was locked.
Apparently, the memories from before I fell asleep and the memories from after waking up had become mixed together.
"Not Supported."
For some reason, those words drifted through my mind.
I apologized anyway, despite having nobody to apologize to.
Nobody was at fault.
Probably.
The boundary between sleepiness, medication, and daily life had simply become blurred.
Various medications were lined up across the desk.
When their names were listed together, they seemed strangely numerous.
Quviviq.
Eurodin.
Trazodone.
Levomepromazine.
Tramadol.
Suanzaoren-tang.
Herbal medicine.
Concerta.
Pain-relief patches.
Alprazolam.
Lorazepam.
Diazepam.
The names alone made the desk look like a shelf in some laboratory.
But in reality, it was just life.
A life built around sleeping.
A life built around waking up.
A life built around somehow moving one more day forward.
Concerta was not the problem.
Nobody was.
That was what I decided to believe.
Outside the window, the sky was overcast.
I was hungry.
There was still a bowl of potatoes and tempura flakes waiting near the microwave.
And yet, somehow, my mind was thinking about McDonald's.
Humans are strange.
Even when food is already in the refrigerator, they find themselves wanting something else.
It had always been that way.
I stared at the screen.
Agricultural support programs.
Chickens.
Greenhouses.
Sprinklers.
Rental farms.
Weeds.
Green manure.
Potatoes.
Again, potatoes.
Before I knew it, I was circling the same thoughts over and over.
Maybe what I truly wanted was not a farm.
Maybe it was simply a quiet place.
Wake up in the morning.
Check the seedlings.
Turn on the water.
Watch chickens wander around.
Then let the day end when evening arrived.
A world no larger than that.
But things had never worked out so conveniently.
The more I researched, the more conditions appeared.
The more I thought, the more money was required.
Dreams expanded.
Reality contracted.
The usual pattern.
And yet, somewhere in my mind, chickens continued walking.
Author's Note
Apparently the manuscript is already around 850 pages long.
Maybe if it's reformatted like one of those oversized art books, it could fit into a single volume.
Even if the old master has forgotten about me by now, and even if age has caught up with his eyesight...
I think he'd still be able to read it.
