REVERSE: 1999 STORY LOGS

5SP - 01 | Lovely Meeting

[SPDM Library]

Sotheby: Wow! So this is the library in Vertin’s school! So many people here! Hmm, they’re probably around my age.

A gorgeous sap-green dress jumps into the library of SPDM. Its owner keeps talking in a sing-song tone, like a chirping goldcrest.

Sotheby: Heh heh, we’ve also got this many shelves in the library of Sotheby’s Manor! Are there any alchemy workshops and potion warehouses here, like in our manor?

The young lady stands on tiptoe, looking around this place curiously.

Sotheby: Where can I find Ms. Bouanich? Madam Z told me to come here, but she didn’t give any other clues. *sighs* The people here really need Mr. Teakettler, who is always nice and warm to the guests. Just twist his teapot ear, then he can take you anywhere. If not so, placing a Luck-A-Day Potion at the entrance would help as well. If I had made it before I came, Ms. Bouanich and I might have met by now. Or she will just pop up behind me!

Matilda: Are you looking for me?

Sotheby: Oh, my word! Oops, that was too loud. Where are my manners!

Sotheby straightens the wrinkles on her dress and gives out her hand like a real lady.

Sotheby: Nice to meet you! Are you Ms. Bouanich?

The other girl nods haughty. Her uniform speaks for herself. It seems to be a historic “first meeting” for them.

Sotheby: That’s fantastic. How did you find me? Did you see me in the Oneiromancy? Or through a crystal orb? Either way, it is the great arcanum …

Matilda: Hah! I’m much greater than that. Look at you, dressed as if you’d just been to a ball. You are as eye-catching as … the pigment poured on a sketch! I saw you the moment I came into the library!

Sotheby: A ball? Ha! Does the Foundation hold balls, too?

Matilda: No, I’m saying … Hmm, does every friend of Vertin’s talk this way? Never mind. Madam Z told me you wanted to look up the materials on “the mysterious school that believes in numbers” here.

Sotheby: That’s right! Ms. Moissan told me she will thoroughly check the documents in the Foundation archive, so I’ll go through the books in the SPDM library! If we can find anything about that school, we can be of more help to Vertin and her team!

Matilda: I’m sorry, Ms. Sotheby, but I’m afraid this situation is going to disappoint you. While you spent the last hour looking for Teakettler’s ear, the kindhearted monitor assistant already gained the valuable access to the library. But I haven’t found any records regarding “the mysterious school that believes in numbers” yet.

Like a bolt out of the blue.

Sotheby: Oh! But, but Ms. Moissan said, there are soooo many books here that they can cover the entire back of a Stronsay Beast!

Matilda: That’s a bit exaggerated, but, ahem, she’s right! Nevertheless, the librarian was transferred to a more important position years ago due to the “Storm.” Many old books are not yet sorted. Some even went missing in the chaos. The only relevant materials I could find are the stories of Pythagoras and some books on mathematical theorems, but I don’t think they have anything to do with Vertin’s issue.

What Matilda sees now is a pair of tear-dimmed eyes.

Sotheby: That means … I can’t do anything to help them?

Matilda: Please stop being emotional. It doesn’t work on this professional member of the Foundation!

She looks away and clears her throat like a grown-up.

Matilda: Ahem! Without field investigation permission, I can’t take you out to collect information. But in fact, there is still another reference room only known to the most outstanding monitor assistant.

Sotheby: Hooray!

Other students in the library cast disgruntled glances at them.

Matilda: Shh, shh! It’s a violation to make noises in the library! Please follow me, Ms. Sotheby!

…

Tall shelves. Unfamiliar surroundings. An impossible mission. The girls walk through the shelves like fish swimming through coral.

Sotheby: Thank you so much, Ms. Bouanich. You mentioned “ball.” I haven’t heard that word for a very long time. I remember what Mr. Karson, my butler, had taught me. He said, “Express your gratitude to fair ladies by holding a grand ball.” I’ll write to my father and ask for a brand-new, unsinkable, and maneuverable rock ‘n’ roll park. I’m sure he will gladly say yes.

Matilda: Maneuverable rock ‘n’ roll park?

Sotheby: Yes! We can hold a twist ball on it when Vertin and her team are back!

Matilda: Please allow me to say NO! The monitor assistant of SPDM will never participate in such an inelegant activity. Wait. Did you just say Vertin and “her team”?

Sotheby: …?

Matilda: Ahem, we can talk about the ball later. The kindhearted Matilda Bouanich will try her best to help you out with the task. But o-of course, it’s only out of her sense of responsibility, not for some personal reasons.

…

They go faster and faster. Finally, they reach their destination.

…

[“Unnecessary Information” Room]

To patch the fragmented eras in the future … And to store the currently unimportant files and reports … People built this reference room in the shape of a box with gray and white walls. During this awful time, which might last for ages, people call it─

The footnote of history.

Matilda: Here we are: the reference room storing “unnecessary information.” It’s a place ignored by most staff. Even so, this careful, reliable monitor assistant will not let go of any details.

She knocks on the rusty sign haughtily.

Matilda: I hereby officially appoint you as the chief assistant of monitor assistant of SPDM! I will take my responsibility and teach you how to become a devoted Foundation member!

Matilda pulls off the cloth covering the archive cabinet. Dust rises in the air.

Matilda: Here is your first task: read through these unsorted, old files, all of them.

The monitor assistant takes a dusty file from the cabinet. The paper inside has already turned yellow.

Matilda: I have searched all the archived ones. These are the last parts. Most of them are discarded administrative documents, low-priority materials, and substandard reports written by rookie investigators. By the way, you should know I didn’t sort any of them out for you, and they don’t necessarily have what you want!

Sotheby: It’s alright! Leave them to me! I love reading!

Matilda: Humph! You’d better do. Here’s the key. Keep it safe. You can sit on the cushion there when you sort out the files. I-I don’t want your dress to stain the stone bench. I’ll go see if I missed any files. Listen! This monitor assistant will test you on your familiarity with these files when she’s back!

…

Three Hours Later

…

Matilda: Double check completed. Looks like I didn’t miss any relevant files. Phew! Quite a long day. I doubt if that spoiled lady can finish all the materials. She must have been bored and fallen asleep, waiting for her Teakettler in her dream … It takes much more than dancing at balls to be a Foundation investigator. I’ll send her back to that teacher when she wakes up. In the end, it will be the kindhearted Matilda who finishes the task for her. Being a great monitor assistant comes with great responsibility!

…

Again, Matilda gently pushes the door open. Surprisingly, she is welcomed with an energetic greeting.

Sotheby: Oh, Ms. Bouanich!

Standing on a ladder, Sotheby gives her a big smile with a stack of files in her hand. The files she didn’t finish reading are scattered on the ground, while the others have been well organized in the cabinet.

Matilda: You … You didn’t fall asleep? Did you sort out these files?

Sotheby: Hmm? Yes! And I love these books in uncommon shapes! There are so many wonderful stories! I often read books with Sasana when Father wasn’t at home. We read and read until the Redcomb Aves woke up the sun. Moreover, these files are much easier than Ms. Moissan’s reading task. Here, the gentleman from River Conwy tamed a whole group of Afancs! How marvellous is that!

Matilda: Oh, okay. Looks like you meet the basic requirements for being a rookie investigator! I-I guess you are qualified to be my chief assistant.

The young lady doesn’t pay much attention to the mumbles from the monitor assistant. She is busy announcing her big discovery.

Sotheby: And I also found this interesting report! It tells a lot about the “Storm” and the “numbers.” Oh! Will this be helpful to Vertin?

Matilda: Hmm? Show it to me.

She takes a pile of yellowed paper from Sotheby. This neat and orderly written report has no beginning or end. Obviously, the author is a meticulous person.

Matilda: “... I have to say, it is undoubtedly a violation to submit such a report, but it will be a travesty of the truth and human sense if I cover it up.”

Matilda & Writer of the Report: Peace, sense, justice─they have always been the creeds in my heart, and are now the reason why I have decided to write down the whole thing.

Writer of the Report: A long time has passed since the first attack of the most severe crisis in our time. But we are still wondering, what on earth does it mean? That was the eve of the millennium, of which no one had any memories, illogically. The next day, time was already reversed to 1996 the moment we opened our eyes. We walked out of the building made of gray and white marble as usual, hardly aware that the sun we bathed in was from another time. Our survival was unexpected and almost unbelievable in such a calamity which swept the globe.

Writer of the Report: Why did the headquarters of the Foundation survive the reverse? Why couldn’t we find our younger selves in the outside world? Did any other regions survive it as we did? What was the cause behind this calamity?

Writer of the Report: I didn’t know, nor did anyone else. Things remained unclear until time was reversed again. This time, we all witnessed that rain in the ‘80s.

…

Matilda: …!

Sotheby: Are these files Vertin needs?

Matilda: I, I think so.

She says in a trembling voice. This monitor assistant, who always claims to have a cool head, has never panicked so much.

Matilda: It’s a report written by someone who witnessed the “Storm”! And it has recorded the “Storms” before Vertin became the Timekeeper?!

5SP - 02 | Soaked Science

Sotheby: Before she became the Timekeeper? Whoa! So, Vertin wasn’t born a Timekeeper!

Matilda: She didn’t tell you that? Wait, no one is born a Timekeeper. It’s not an inherited title! Anyway, this report includes the secret chronology only accessible to the core members of the Foundation. You can only check it under the supervision of the monitor assistant before you become a qualified investigator.

Matilda dusts off the folder carefully.

Matilda: No matter what the reason is, it shouldn’t have been shoved in this dusty room like rubbish. To evaluate its authenticity and risk, the genius Matilda Bouanich will fulfill her duty as the monitor assistant and carry out a thorough inspection of this report! If you agree to this resolution, please nod, Assistant Sotheby.

The speech is full of terminologies Sotheby has never heard of, but it doesn’t matter. Based on the tone of her speech, she has already decided how to answer─

Sotheby: Hoor- … Yes!

…

Writer of the Report: That was 1985, a gloomy, miserable night compared to that peaceful morning in 1996, when we were only bothered by confusion. We didn’t expect time to be reversed again, nor did we understand the consequence.

Writer of the Report: Even now, I still remember Paulina’s desperate cry. One of her hands was already inside the safe area when she fell at the entrance to the headquarters, and that was the only part of her left to us the next second. The only legacies we found were an engagement ring on that hand and her favorite blue polka dot scarf, which we used to wrap her remains in the end. To be honest, I admired those who still remained calm, and sympathized with the arcanists on the edge of mental breakdown. It had nothing to do with the one-quarter arcanist blood in my body; it was only the kind of empathy which all mankind would share out of instinct in the face of a hopeless calamity. We lost many … too many colleagues. In the materials they sent back, we even saw all the horrifying phenomena, such as one’s veins turning into electric wires.

Writer of the Report: Since then, the “Storm,” a word simply taken from visual observation, has been used to refer to the calamity. Of course, we can have a word for the calamity itself, but what words should we use to conclude all the absurdity and panic?

…

Writer of the Report: Before the “Storm,” we were all familiar with time. It was supposed to be a straight line connecting the past and the future. We followed the line to move forward: We broke free from ignorance, we built civilizations, we developed technologies, we promoted the well-being of mankind, and we improved our living conditions step by step. We were so sure that we were making progress on the right path. But then, the path was taken away all of a sudden.

Writer of the Report: Oh, time, our closest old friend, where are you taking us? Back to the two most painful war times in the 20th century? The era when no one had ever heard the hiss of steam engines? Or the century when mankind was yet to be enlightened? So far, mankind has achieved a lot in history: dynamos, automobiles, flyovers, railways, hospitals, poorhouses … But if it goes on like this, what is the point of all the efforts we have made? Now, we are like a shipwreck left on the island of time, witnessing the fall of the whole modern world in the unstoppable tsunami.

…

Writer of the Report: Even though the Foundation has lost a lot of staff members, they are still doing fine compared to Laplace. My younger brother was a good example. He was the most sensible person I have ever known. On the first day of the second reverse, he told me, in a calm manner …

???: “At least we have reaffirmed that Newton was right. There was never an arrow of time in classical mechanics. Hahaha! Neither in relativity nor quantum mechanics! That means this is absolutely normal! Whether the time goes backwards or forwards, even if it starts spinning around like a table top foosball player, they’re not against the law of physics. We can go back in time and give Poincaré a medal of Great Prophet!”

Writer of the Report: The next day, he almost fell off the sixth floor due to excessive drinking.

Writer of the Report: All the perceptions of time and space developed to this day were overthrown. We couldn’t find any theories to explain the “Storm” in any existing researches. There could only be two reasons for this situation. Either we’ve been completely wrong all the time … Or, we’ve come to a brand new world. And this new world can never make sense in the way of science, or that of physics. It cannot be verified by an independent third party, and it is impossible to be comprehended through reasoning. Is it true that we’ve been going the wrong way? Is it true that those once proven wrong by history, those arcanists who claimed to possess Gnosis, are actually on the right path?

…

Writer of the Report: In fact, the one who put an end to the chaos was indeed not a human. This “thing” … I had no idea what it was. It claimed to be a machine which never stops working. It laughed at the limitations of our brains and the metaphysical mistakes we make ceaselessly.

Writer of the Report: But it did solve the most urgent issue: a system was built to tackle “Storm-relevant” emergencies after it took charge of Laplace. The fist measure it adopted was contacting all the existing branches of the Foundation’s at the time to confirm the scale of available manpower, then it built observation stations all over the globe to find if there were any other regions immune to the “Storm.” After that, numerous offices responsible for deducing the case of the “Storm” were established. Even though there were countless disagreements during the research, at least we had taken the first step.

Writer of the Report: I handed in the application to take part in this mission, determined to get rid of the fog in my mind.

…

Writer of the Report: In 1986, I was assigned to the office in Egypt. All my friends came to the dock to see me off … Because we knew it could be the final goodbye … Even though we were equipped with the emergency communication devices issued by Laplace, we were still not clear when the “Storm” would assault us or where we could hide nearby.

Writer of the Report: What really scared me was not the threat to my life, but the possibility of dying ignorant. Then I boarded the ship to Alexandria from Athens, and that was when I met “her.”

…

Writer of the Report: Now when I recall it, it was almost impossible to ignore that group of arcanists on that ship. There were about a dozen of them, all in eccentric-stitch robes. They were followers of a strange school which mixes arcanum and mathematics. I talked to them. No matter how much that conversation bewilders me now, I was more excited than confused at the time.

Writer of the Report: They also survived the “Storm” of 1996, and they noticed the unusual changes taking place in the world as well. That means I actually met another group of survivors from the millennium.

…

She stops turning the pages.

Matilda: Wait, wait. A school of arcanists who survived the “Storm”?

5SP - 03 | Tower of Babel

Matilda: A mixture of arcanum and mathematics, the ship on the Mediterranean … Unbelievable! Our investigator actually met this group of arcanists who believed in numbers and even left such a precious record down on paper.

Sotheby: Does it mean we are close to being helpful to Vertin?!

The chief assistant of the monitor assistant lets out a cheer.

Matilda: Certainly. It's what we deserve for all the efforts today! Hmm. But, why did they leave such an important report in the reference room storing "unnecessary information"? Did they misput it here after the chaos of the "Storm"?

Putting her confusion aside, Matilda turns to the next page of the record.

…

Writer of the Report: Among them, the most easygoing one was Hugh. He was an engineer as well as an arcanist. We shared the same preference for human technology, and that became our common topic. Hugh was in his 30s, red-haired, cheeks sunken, and deeply depressed due to some kind of eye disease. He was a decent man with a prudent attitude, working at a desk most of the time. He reminded me of the imperial miniature painting artists in the Sultan's palace. Most of them ended up blind after toiling... for their life. He showed me the picture of his daughter. I don't have children, but I could feel his happiness as a father.

Writer of the Report: Although I got along well with Hugh, he seemed quite out of place among that group … which was actually led by "her."

Writer of the Report: I don't know what words to use to describe "her." She was like a meteor shower, a tempest, or an unreasonable catastrophe itself. Her existence was just like her name: it was simple, yet implied a lot. Please forgive me for my cowardice. Even now, I don't have the courage to write down her name─if one would call that a name. In fact, she was quite a kind, warmhearted person. Among all the unregistered arcanists I've met, she was one of the nicest ones towards the Foundation. She looked young, even though I heard she had a daughter, too. Besides, she still possessed the innocence of a child, and that kind of excitement exclusive for genius. That's right. It seemed the whole world was like a sparkling toy to her.

Writer of the Report: Our communication was heart-stirring at the beginning. Both of us were eager to find out what was happening, like two shipwreck victims grappling at each other on the sea. But I didn't have the slightest idea what she was talking about, actually.

Writer of the Report: The problem was not the typical communication issues between humans and arcanists. I was sure the language we used didn't pose any obstacles, but still, I couldn't understand any words of hers. I would believe that one is highly intelligent if one can name all the factors of 11,567 without thinking. But, what this one said was illogical nonsense which no one could ever imagine.

Writer of the Report: She claimed that there is a world of numbers "above all else," where the non-physical Essences of all things exist in the form of timeless, absolute, unchangeable ideas, and that the physical world where the time flows is nothing but an "appendage," which has never been real or true. And that's why the chaos in this world is not worth any attention, and we should focus on what happened to the "supreme existence."

Writer of the Report: What an utter disaster combining modern maths with ancient superstition! I saw another hubristic arcanist pretending to be the prophet by reliving Platonism. I don't even bother to mention the balderdash on "soul numbers." Even the New Age Movement could use some of her absurdity. But that was not yet the end. She even claimed to be aware of the exact year when the next reverse would happen! But when I asked her about it seriously, she said …

"HER": "My apologies. I've made an oath. I shall and only shall reveal the demonstration to people who have their own soul numbers."

Writer of the Report: I'm not sure whether she was making fun of me or being serious, but I had this feeling that she was eager to tell me how she was granted the secret through a moment of afflatus. It seemed she just saw through the laws behind all things instead of finding them through logical deduction.

"HER": "Can't you see it? It is right in front of you!"

Writer of the Report: After I expressed my inability to comprehend her words 30 times, she finally gave up and proffered regrets. I'd rather take it as a new kind of humiliation.

Writer of the Report: What really irritated me about her, however, was her contempt towards science and all the scientific research methods.

Writer of the Report: As far as I'm concerned, the value of a theory lies in its reliability, universality, and generalizability. Our pursuit of the "truth" has laid the foundation of modern science, allowing us to change the world. Yet, in her eyes, the value of a theory lies in its "beauty." I talked to her on the current situation, and I told her how we would save lives and preserve the hard-earned technology of mankind, if we could find the pattern of the "Storm."

Writer of the Report: It was, of course, not an easy thing to do and would take enormous manpower, so I asked her sincerely to join the Foundation. Yet again. she responded with contempt. She believed the would only become another military squad of the Foundation's.

"HER": "Darling, maths is beautiful for its uselessness. That's why it remains noble and graceful in this sordid world, despite you humans' reckless action of using it to calculate ballistic."

Writer of the Report: She turned down my invitation and left an unfairly negative comment on our "Storm" Observation Project.

"HER": "The observation stations you built are destined to be toppled, because their basis is the fragile world that follows the laws of physics. The efforts you've made are like nails on a sand beach, which will only be carried away by the next tidal wave."

Writer of the Report: But I said, "Perhaps our efforts are in vain, but someone has to do it. We will try every corner of the beach before making the conclusion that the world we're living in is already a hopeless ruin."

“HER”: "Heh heh... What a pragmatic, rigorous, and rational speech! But dear, the world is a hopeless ruin!"

Writer of the Report: The conversation ended in disagreement. I don't know why arcanists hate the world so much. Perhaps the reason is they have never been truly accepted. To this day, I still remember her venomous conclusion …

“HER”: "The world built on past experiences has ended. In your words, which you used to mock us, why not embrace the reality?"

Writer of the Report: Yet, about the Gnosis which she deeply believed in and the so-called prophecy she made through numbers, she had never given any proofs or details that showed rigorous logic. And the reason for her inaction was ... was an oath she had made before some stone! Therefore, I believed her words were only the nonsense of a lunatic. When we first met, I thought she was different from all those psychos, who mistook the malfunction of their prefrontal cortex as the will of God, but they turned out to be the same.

Writer of the Report: In the name of human sense, I swore everything she said was absurd and ridiculous to me, until …

…

Matilda: Hmm. Madam Z said the arcanists on that island are all named after numbers, because they have a strong belief that numbers are the Essence of their souls. The investigator wouldn't write down "her" name. Is it because of the conflict between their beliefs?

Matilda turns to the next page eagerly, as if checking a novel brought in class by some undisciplined student. But the reality welcomes her with an empty page.

Matilda: Hmm? That's all?!

Maybe because the story ends with an abrupt stop or the hope just raised has dashed down, Matilda clenches her handkerchief with her sweaty palm.

Matilda: Submitting such an unfinished report will only cause problems for the reviewers and evaluators! But this investigator didn't even write down their name …

Sotheby: Don't worry, Ms. Bouanich. I'm familiar with this situation. Every time, after the brave Typhon defeats Jupiter, he returns to the Auto Island. But, each time we twist the ear of Mr. Glass Box, Typhon will show up again and again! Ms. Moissan told me, the ear is the key to bringing back our hope!

Matilda: Wait, don't tell me you are talking about the shows on the mechanical television …

Ignoring the monitor assistant's confusion, the enthusiastic young lady starts looking around for the ear that carries all her hope.

Matilda: Stop, stop, Ms. Sotheby. Please take a seat on the cushion and listen to me carefully. This is a detailed report written by a formal investigator of the Foundation's, not some TV show full of cliffhangers. That means, we will definitely find the rest somewhere.

Sotheby: Oh, I see! Must be a Cocoa Treant who took away the other part of the book! Usually, they will be attracted by luna fixa. And by following their traces, we'll find their lairs in the stable.

Matilda: You mean someone took it away? Hmm, that's highly possible. Data loss is not allowed in the Foundation, especially under the monitor assistant's management.

Sotheby: We must prepare luna fixa. Don't forget their favourite Jigging Magical Beans! Hmm. I don't have those materials with me right now, but I can write to them. It only takes a month!

The disconcerting conversation is clearly too much for this rigorous monitor assistant.

Matilda: Nuh-uh, we don't need that!

After taking a deep breath, Matilda takes out her crystal orb. An ambitious smile spreads over her face.

Matilda: You've perfectly accomplished the task from me when you found this valuable report. Well done, Assistant Sotheby. Now it's time for the Great Matilda to show a little bit of her greatness!

5SP - 04 | Divination in the Day

There is no moonlight during the daytime. But the moon is not the only choice for divination.

Matilda: Hmm, judging from the omen, it's at "the northwest, the beginning and the ending of the ring, where the wall reflects repeatedly."

Holding the crystal orb with both hands, Matilda keeps adjusting her position while trying to figure out the vague vision in the sphere. Sotheby follows her with a curious face.

Matilda: "The northwest" of SPDM, this one is straightforward. "The beginning and the ending of the ring" is not a problem, either. The icon of the Computing Center is exactly the Ouroboros, a serpent eating its own tail. Here we are. But, "where the wall reflects repeatedly" ... Does that mean a closed room with mirrors?

Matilda: The mirror in the Display Center is a huge kinescope in the wall, and the one in the Airtight Laboratory is a crystal-clear observation window. The one in the rehab center? No no no. The mirrors in the operation room have been replaced with curved electronic screens of steel structure after that Zeno pilot made a scene.

Matilda: So, where is the answer?

She slowly turns around, trying to find the perfect angle for a clearer vision. A white figure storms away from her side, almost bumping off the orb she tightly holds.

Matilda: Hey! You just hit me. Shouldn't you apologize?

Researcher: Ah…..! Where did you come from, dork? Wasting my time!

The man groans a curse and hastily leaves this place with his hands covering his nose and mouth.

Matilda: What?! How could he say that? That's rude!

Sotheby: That gentleman doesn't look well. He's covering his face. His nose is running with purple liquid. Oh, dear! Did he drink a whole bottle of purple crossandra juice?! He needs treatment immediately! Oh! If only I had brought the phoenix heart nerves with me …

Matilda: He ran towards the rehab center. Humph! Nothing to worry about. Just another patient trying to prove he has recovered.

The hasty man has disappeared completely. The little incident doesn't raise anyone's attention.

Matilda: The rehab center has all the facilities and medicines he needs. He will be properly treated. But why is he wearing the uniform of Laplace? Hmm, and where's the receptionist here?

The lobby of the Scientific Computing Center welcomes them with a deafening silence. The counter is no longer busy with people but with an auto-recognition device instead.

Sotheby: Does everyone go to the weekend party night?

Probing around the counter, the temporary investigator seems determined to dig out a party gramophone from somewhere.

Matilda: Absolutely not. The researchers here are too busy to do that! The Computing Center is working on the most urgent and vital project-the research on the immunity to the "Storm." We should not disturb them unless it's an emergency. So, please stop calling the office and put down the telephone, Ms. Sotheby. This is not the ear of a Teakettler, and it won't take you to any twist balls!

The monitor assistant can't stand the difference in their terminology anymore.

Matilda: &$#% ... I know she's a rookie, but even so, she's way too unbelievable! "Guide new members with caution and patience. Trigger their afflatus at the right time." Oh, I have to admit, Vertin is doing it better than me for now.

Her mumbling is interrupted by the owner of the cheerful footsteps.

Sotheby: Ms. Bouanich, I just read the map on the counter. You mentioned "where the wall reflects repeatedly." Does the vision refer to the Racket Ball Center here? You see, its icon is a bouncing ball.

Matilda: ..! Let me take a look!

…

Matilda: Found it. This is really the right direction! Next, "empty boxes, glassware, and copper pieces." Hmm. Looks like our destination has piles of metal.

The vision in the orb is growing clearer, proving that they're heading in the right direction. That eases Matilda's upset mind.

Matilda: Ahem ... good job, Assistant Sotheby. I have to say, I might have gone a bit too hard on you. You are more capable than I thought. Thanks to your prompt reminder, we have saved quite some time.

Sotheby: Sotheby is glad to help!

The young lady gladly hops along the way, while she doesn't give up peering at Matilda's crystal orb.

Sotheby: Ms. Bouanich, since you're such a talented diviner … Why don't you just divine the reason for the "Storm" with your inherited arcanum ability? According to Ms. Moissan, the reason still remains a mystery. If the crystal orb can reveal its truth, everything will be much easier for Vertin and her team!

Matilda: D-Divine the reason for the "Storm"?!

The brave assumption astonishes this great diviner. She almost drops the orb.

Matilda: That's IMPOSSIBLE, for sure!

Matilda: It's a typical mistake of layman's to believe one can see everything through divination! You are an expert on potions and arcane creatures, but you have little knowledge on other subjects. Haven't you received any systematic education on arcanum?

Sotheby: Education on arcanum? I'm, of course, well-educated in arcanum, with Ms. Moissan as my tutor, and my arcane friends such as Typhon from the Auto Island, Jupiter, and…

Matilda: ... Alright, alright, enough.

She shakes her head, stopping her from listing another name for an arcane creature that nobody has ever heard of.

Matilda: I have understood the fact that the education you have received is not systematical ... or, say, incomplete, imperfect, inelegant! Humph ... But don't worry, because you are talking to the kindhearted Matilda! She will spend her valuable time to make it up for you.

The great monitor assistant clears her throat and starts recalling what she learned when she was 12.

Matilda: In fact, the system of arcanum knowledge is not completely separated from that of human science. For example, the modern pharmacy and chemistry actually originated from the experiments of potions and alchemy in the ancient times. They developed into two different systems because arcanists focused more on the knowledge ignored by scientists, which is Gnosis. The "knowledge" we learn from divination is exactly under this category.

Sotheby: Wow …

Sotheby's eyes light up with amazement. Matilda takes out her notebook and draws a brief sketch in it.

Matilda: Let me fill you in with more details. If two human researchers test Snell's Law at two different places at the same time without making any mistakes, they will always reach the same conclusion. Or, if two potionists use the same ingredients and follow the same formula to make the Cough Cough Stop Stop Potion separately, their products will also have similar effects.

Matilda: However, if two diviners respectively perform divination on the same thing, they will probably see totally different "visions."

Matilda: Because what the divination shows is merely "omens." The interpretation of these omens is in fact a kind of subjective deduction based on the reality, and there is no such thing as a standard answer. Even if the two diviners draw the same conclusion, it is more of a coincidence than a result that implies generalizability. so, diviners never check the accuracy of their divination through the review of peers! And this is an example of Gnosis. Unlike human sense, it is unique and possesses no universality.

She puts it away and wiggles her index finger.

Matilda: In other words, even if someone finds out a reason for the "Storm" through divination, they can't have other diviners verify it, because a hundred different diviners will give out a hundred different conclusions. The scene will be even busier than a concert at Musikverein.

Matilda: That being said, the more possible result we get from the divination is nothing! Divination cannot bring knowledge which the diviners have never learned. The divination of such world-class knowledge as complicated as the reason for the "Storm" can only be performed by world-class diviners. We may find one or two diviners like that if time continues to be reversed, like Nostradamus, hmm, but he lived in the 16th century. Besides, even Nostradamus is not always right.

Sotheby: But ... but Ms. Bouanich is! Thanks to your divination, we're getting closer and closer to that report, right?

Matilda: ..! Y-You, you ... you are right! Finding items, interpreting dreams, and making simple prophecies ... All these things are just a breeze for the bright and clever Matilda! But inquiring about the "Storm" is beyond my ability, and it will only bring misfortune. Humph! I will never make such a stupid mistake!

Matilda regains her radiant appearance.

Matilda: In fact, this half of the report and the handwriting of the author are perfect divination media. Besides, our target is not far away from us, and I'm familiar with the surroundings, which have made things much easier than usual. It is true diviners can improve the accuracy and controllability of their Gnosis by practicing repeatedly, holding the rituals properly, and making targeted preparations ... but that still doesn't mean the result will be absolutely accurate.

Sotheby nods. No one can tell from her face whether she truly understands that announcement or not. Reading the vision in the orb, Matilda leads Sotheby around another corner nimbly.

Sotheby: The report says, that person who mentioned the school of numbers claimed she was enlightened about the year of the next "Storm" ... Is that also by divination?

Matilda: Hmm, I am not sure what kind of arcane skills they used, but numbers are indeed a kind of omen, too... am not talking about the specific knowledge of mathematics, but the numbers themselves, because they are even more abstract than images and languages as a kind of symbol… Even so, there is no way for us to verify this prophet, unless it really comes true.

Matilda: That is also why it takes almost nothing to spread a prophecy. My mother told me many people in the outside world write to the Foundation every day, claiming to be prophets who can predict the doomsday and thus requesting unemployment benefits …

Sotheby: The doomsday? Unemployment benefits? Oh, my! The outside world is far more wonderful than I thought! How fascinating! Ms. Bouanich is even greater than I expected!

Matilda: Humph ... you bet! W-Wait! D-Did you mean I was not the greatest?

They have reached the end of the corridor. Matilda puts away the orb and looks at a wooden door with no sign in front of her. This is where the vision leads them to ─the room next to the Racket Ball Center.

Matilda: Here we are, Ms. Sotheby. Now, this is the moment to verify the result of my divination.

Squeak─

5SP - 05 | The Lament in Silence

The light is dim here. Archive cabinets and unorganized files are everywhere, punctuated by strange devices in Laplace style. It seems like an abandoned utility room.

Matilda: *coughs* Where are we? Lost-and-Found of the Racket Ball Center?

She waves away the dust and struggles her way along the toppling cabinets.

Matilda: Hmm, the orb showed copper pieces. We need to find something that seems to be locked but is actually not. Aha, found it! Nothing can stop the genius Matilda!

She finds what she's looking for in a rusty drawer. Obviously, the report has been here for a very long time. Its corners curl because of the damp air. Luckily, the writing is still recognizable.

…

Writer of the Report: ... The trip to Egypt didn't go smoothly. The ship was hit by a common storm at sea. We were lost in the fog after that, completely off course. Then something emerged from the water. Since the first 'Storm," the Foundation has received frequent sightings of arcane creatures which should have been extinct in history.

Writer of the Report: I had no idea what I was shooting at, even after I emptied the clip. And I didn't know what to do. Those arcanists brought us back on course. She named the precise longitude and latitude of our location, even without using the sextant in the spare cabin.

Writer of the Report: I wonder how she did that. Perhaps the world did look different in her eyes.

Writer of the Report: Then, when I was about to step on a random plank on the ship, she suddenly dragged me back. I thought it was only an inappropriate joke … But the next second, the plank broke. I was stunned and asked her how she saw that coming. She just answered me as if we were talking about the weather …

"HER": "Because that plank is deformed like a rhombus."

Writer of the Report: I was confused, "Where is the rhombus?" She laughed.

"HER": "The rhombus can't be seen with eyes. You shall close your eyes, hearken to the teaching of the supreme existence, and seize the moment of afflatus!"

Writer of the Report: Of course, I didn't see anything, nor did I understand what a moment of afflatus was. Perhaps it's just another privilege enjoyed by arcanists, just like their right to be lunatic. Nevertheless, she reached the correct conclusion in a completely wrong way. Is it really possible?

Writer of the Report: Anyway, she saved my life, but that was not enough to settle the differences between us. She remained rejective to working with the Foundation, and I finally gave up the attempt to persuade them. My mission on that trip was not to make contact with them. Besides, what we needed was builders of the "Storm" Observation System, not some liars who would only make things worse.

Writer of the Report: As for the shelter they took from the "Storm," she wouldn't say a word, as if she were dealing with a spy who pried to find out the deepest secret of the arcanists. In the end, Hugh mediated between us. He gave me an address in Istanbul to which I could send letters to contact them.

Writer of the Report: After that, I spent more than half a year in the Egypt office. Things were even worse there than I expected. Some have gone missing after the "Storm": the people who were supposed to be in the Egypt office, according to the member list stored in the headquarters in 1985, were not there when I arrived. The situation could be caused by the limitations of the transmission of paper-based materials, because computer was not yet popularized to every corner of the globe at that time. One minor mistake of a copyist's could develop into a huge difference.

Writer of the Report: Besides that, the chaos inside Laplace was an even worse issue. I learned that someone published the paper, Samplings of Global and Regional Chaotic Energy Route Changes, in the name of Butterfly of Lorentz. Apparently, they secretly used our sampling sites, yet their research direction and conclusion were radically different from Laplace's. The researchers equally divided into two schools: one sticking to the human technology they have focused on, and one changing their direction to arcanum. At the time, it was still too early to decide which direction was right without sufficient experimental data. But many already believed that if time continued to be reversed, human technology would only keep falling into decline, while arcanum, which relies on personal ability, would rise again.

Writer of the Report: It's true that Gnosis cannot be copied, verified by an independent third party, or comprehended through reasoning … Its nature decides that it cannot lay the foundation of science or be popularized to every ordinary person. It takes solid marble to build a castle, not slippery sand.

Writer of the Report: Even so, what harm will it do to rely on arcanum when the underlying logic of all things has become unreasonable?

Writer of the Report: Before the disagreement was settled, the "Storm" in 1987 was predicted. We were ordered to return to the headquarters 24 hours before its arrival. But the prediction was not accomplished by Laplace. A captive from Manus Vindictae named the precise date of that "Storm."

Writer of the Report: Our enemy, those lunatic xenophobes valuing only pure blood, made it further than we did.

Writer of the Report: Yes, we built observation stations, we made countless deductions, we developed multiple simulation models … We made efforts, we sacrificed life, we did whatever we could … Yet, the result was that we didn't find any other regions immune to the "Storm" except the headquarters and another one in North America.

Writer of the Report: In the end, 95% of the branch members were reversed, 87.9% of the equipment was destroyed, and 100% of our predictions failed. In conclusion, our endeavor brought no achievements. As for the captive from Manus Vindictae, the delirium patient who claimed that oracles flowed under his parietal bone …

Writer of the Report: When we asked him how he learned the precise date of the "Storm," he burst into laughter.

Manus Follower: "Can't you hear it?! Has God left you behind when he spread his grace?!"

Writer of the Report: Then, he smashed his own skull with the handcuff.

Writer of the Report: Yes, there was no doubt─he was an incurable lunatic. But his insane nonsense was exactly the reason we survived the "Storm” again! No matter how unreasonable or illogical it was, or how much a lie it sounded like!

Writer of the Report: "So, we'd better believe we shouldn't go out in black today because the fish is swimming in the water." “We'd better believe in the existence of the non-physical, everlasting transcendent world where everyone's soul is a number." “We'd better believe in the supreme existence which caused the disorder of time by merely casting its shadow.” “That means the life of individuals means nothing more than rubbish, and the world is but an imperfect ruin where only the chosen ones will pass the trial while the rest will be eliminated by the rain."

Writer of the Report: How am I supposed to do that?!

Writer of the Report: Finally, I made up my mind to write to "her." I didn't expect her to answer my questions. All I wanted was to confirm if she had survived that "Storm." For the sake of our peaceful talk about the rhombus. Yet, what I heard from them was a simple announcement of her death with only two words.

Letter: "She died."

Writer of the Report: Then it burned and turned to ashes in a second. On the same day, the first and only Timekeeper who just took office, the twelve-year-old child, returned alone from the "Storm." She told us the time in the outside world at that point.

Writer of the Report: And that was how I knew she was right.

"HER": "It is right in front of you."

Writer of the Report: But, if there is a god, why are you playing such a prank on us, after we had suffered from the collapse of all the existing orders and the failure of all the great laws? If this is what she called the glimpse of the supreme existence, the moment of afflatus, do you have to present it in such a cruel way?

Writer of the Report: The last two digits in the number of the year after that "Storm" were exactly her name ... and her number.

Writer of the Report: 77.

The report ends here. Two digits. That's the full stop of the story.

…

Matilda: Unbelievable ... Unbelievable! It's actually true! Someone did make that prophecy! Vertin and Sonetto will be thrilled to know what we found! Well done, Ms. Sotheby! You performed as well as a formal investigator! We need to submit this report to your instructor immediately.

Grabbing the papers tightly, Matilda turns around with excitement. Sotheby isn't the person standing there.

???: What are you doing in other people's rooms?

The report is snatched away.

???: This is my personal item. You have no right to take it. Please leave immediately.

Matilda: P-Personal item?! This is a precious record that should have been submitted to the Foundation! According to Administration and Regulations for Dispatched Personnel (St. Pavlov Foundation Decree No. 259). Every member of the Foundation, when acting as a field investigator, is required to create a comprehensive investigation report of all their actions and promptly submit it!

???: And they are obliged to ensure the authenticity, objectivity, and impartiality of the report. No personal bias is allowed in the content. If you have read this report, Miss, you should know that it's not even qualified to be filed.

Matilda: Ugh! But this is an emergency!

The "Storm" Reformation Act is still new to her. She can't think of any articles to support her point of view. She racks her brains for words. But before she makes it, the other person starts talking, with one of his eyebrows raised.

???: I can tell from your uniform. You are a student of SPDM, or ...?

???: This is Laplace. Do you have your guardian's approval to leave the school, Ms. Underage Student?

Matilda: A-Approval? I don't need that! I am not a student! You are talking to the exceptionally promoted monitor assistant of SPDM! Here is my ID!

She holds her ID card high as if she's holding the flag of liberty. But she is ignored. The adult walks directly to a swivel chair in the room and pays attention to an educational toy on the table.

Matilda: Huh! Did you just ignore a formal administrator of the Foundation?! This monitor assistant will report every misbehavior of yours, every little bit of them!

Wordless, the monitor assistant can't be more embarrassed in her life. She looks around just to find, that Sotheby is gone. Luckily, the chief assistant learns faster than she expects. The familiar sing-song tone is making a report to her own tutor outside the half-opened door.

Sotheby: Ms. Moissan, we found that report here! The great Ms. Bouanich and I discovered some important information. I came to you and Madam Z immediately after we read it. Hmm? Ms. Bouanich, why are you confronting Mr. Chair?

Sotheby stands at the door. Her head is tilted. Two adults are behind her.

Z: I didn't expect to see the second half of that report here in your room, Adler.

This time, the owner of the voice can't be ignored. The swivel chair unwillingly turns around.

Enigma: Don't call me that, friend. Why not just call me Enigma? Just like everyone else. Relax. I know nicknames mean no harm. But I don't understand. How is a report filled with meaningless words of any concern to you, Madam Z?

Z: It provides information about the arcanist group Vertin is now dealing with. If possible, please give it to me.

Enigma: Of course. How can I turn down the request from Constantine's chief of staff? Take it away. I hope you don't mind the mold on it.

The researcher stays seated on the chair and casually hands out the report. Madam Z smiles. She seems glad to see that Enigma still has the energy to be sarcastic. But clearly, the monitor assistant can't tolerate such a blatant violation of the staff regulations.

Matilda: Please pay attention to your manners and do not bring disgrace to the Computing Center, Mr. Rude!

Ms. Moissan taps her on the shoulder and quickly looks in the direction of the door.

Ms. Moissan: Ms. Bouanich, Ms. Sotheby, you've done a great job. I'm sure what you have found would be of great help to Timekeeper. And I will report your active performance in this mission to SPDM as soon as possible, Ms. Bouanich. We need to further analyze the files you've found. The first on the scene could provide more detailed information. Let's get out of here.

Matilda: A-Active performance ..!

The keywords give this young monitor assistant a giddy pleasure. She can't help but ignore everything else Ms. Moissan says.

Matilda: Hahaha, active ... No, no ... Calm down, Matilda … I-I didn't accomplish it alone. Assistant Sotheby also played a significant role.

Sotheby: Hooray!

A loud cheer interrupts Matilda's mumbling.

Sotheby: That is to say, Ms. Bouanich, we can start preparing the balloons and flowers for the twist ball!

Matilda: Ahem ... Speaking of which, this monitor assistant still needs to think about it. By the way, just call me Matilda.

She struggles to get out of Sotheby's passionate hug. The great joy brought by Ms. Moissan makes her actions clumsy. Cheering and discussing, the girls leave the room. Madam Z carefully puts the valuable report away.

Enigma: …

The researcher swivels the chair again and hides himself in the fortress made of dusty items. He talks, through cabinets and equipment, in a slow manner.

Enigma: There will be no advance in human technology. You think so? Even the Madam Z has given up on the study of theoretical physics and become a politician.

Z: …

Z: No. I've never thought of that.

She turns to the door with a faint smile.

…

Click. The door is closed.

5SP - 06 | New Direction

The dramas have ended. All is profoundly hushed in this cold and dark room. The researcher sighs and starts settling the messy papers and dusty tools on the table. Why is it mistaken for a utility room? Is it because of the mess? Metallic footsteps come from outside the door.

???: I am astonished by the fact that you were interacting with others.

Another trespasser.

Enigma: They broke in.

The robot in charge of the Laplace Scientific Computing Center shrugs and refuses to make any comments. She has already heard all the information she needs in the corridor.

???: If it was a complaint that you were making, you know it is within your rights to submit an interdepartmental complaint within seven days after the incident.

Enigma: Don't bother. That file means nothing to me. I didn't file it because it's a report against the rules. Why bother to submit such a log full of personal feelings and emotional behaviors to our great, rigorous Foundation?

???: Is that so? I am gratified to find that you still have some sense.

Enigma: I, too, am gratified that you still have no idea that I was being sarcastic.

???: Oh. That was sarcasm.

Enigma: Never mind. What do you want from me, Madam Lucy?

He asks as he bends down and organizes the papers scattered all over the place. This is the best effort he cares to make to receive a guest.

Enigma: You went all the way to this dusty, run-down place so hurriedly that you even forgot to put on that pathetic mask. This is not because of some old files, I assume?

The faceless robot inclines its head in agreement.

Lucy: Certainly. I hope you can be the cryptographer of the Manus Vindictae's ritual. You are still the best.

Enigma: You're asking me, a human, to decode the ritual of a pure-blood arcanist group? I don't see how I'll be helpful to this project.

Lucy: You cannot evaluate your own level of being of value, Adler.

The researcher keeps unfolding more dusty folders without raising his eyes from the table.

Enigma: Well, you evaluate our value, test us in experiments you set, prove the hypotheses by exhaustion, make mistakes, and start all over again. You repeat the process, like a roaring locomotive that pulls the research center out of this chaotic disaster. You question not what is ahead of you, nor whether the path you've taken will be regular or easy. The only idea you planted into your little brain is to move forward, to "improve."

Lucy: Thank you for your compliment. Credit goes to everyone.

Enigma: That was not even a ... Never mind. Guess you agree, a life without creativity is not worth living, and that's the life that I wake up to every day. I'm no longer the person you thought you came here for. I'll never be able to combine human technology and arcanum, and I'll never comprehend even the slightest part of it. I am useless to you.

He squares up the paper on the desk in a grumpy manner, making a huge knocking noise.

Enigma: I don't expect someone made of tin to understand the human mind, but I beg of you: leave me alone.

The robot ignores his emotional speech and keeps talking.

Lucy: The work of analyzing the masks of Manus Vindicate did not go well. A side effect occurs in the researchers, and it is getting worse. The isolation wards on the basement level are overwhelmed.

Enigma: What a scene! Have you aborted the experiment?

Lucy: Not yet. We have conducted the arcanum imaging experiment on the masks and found the component which also exists in the raindrops of the "Storm." But knowing what it is composed of does not help explain how it works. What we are looking for is the original ritual that the Manus cast on them.

Enigma: Ha. You are trying to figure out one's career planning from one's physical examination report. I wonder why it is not working. Even if somehow you managed to find the original ritual, you still need a proper environment to test it, which is the outside world with a coming "Storm."

The researcher turns to her. Wisdom and sarcasm glow in his eyes.

Enigma: That's why we can't tell if we're getting the results even if we have the right ritual, proper permission from the Foundation to travel, and strong-minded volunteer subjects. Experiments performed in the ivory tower won't succeed, because─

Lucy: An experiment about the "Storm" can only be done in a "Storm." Glad to see your brain is not rusty yet. It only took you three sentences to draw the conclusion, which took the seminar a week to reach. That proves you are capable of the project.

Enigma: …

The robot in charge puts a document on the table.

…

Lucy: The History Maintenance Team has forecast different critical points of this "Storm.” Foundation investigators are on their way. If Manus Vindictae still plans to accelerate the "Storm" like what they have done in 1929, there will be a high possibility that their people will show up at the transformation point of history and society─also known as the critical point of time, the center of the "Storm."

Lucy: Your sister, Greta Hofmann, is also one of the investigators.

…

Enigma: I have no interest in any Hofmanns other than myself. We have different perspectives.

Lucy: It is okay. I am just here to inform you that … If any of the investigators successfully send the information of the ritual back, the research about the immunity of the "Storm" will be conducted immediately. Take your time and be mentally prepared. But once the "Storm" alert is issued, we only have 24 hours to verify the feasibility of the ritual. I wish you will be fully prepared by then.

The robot gets out of the room, leaving him no right to choose. Her feet crash into the floor, making a steely sound. Enigma's eyes flicker toward the document. The face on the top is familiar to him. He pulls out the drawer and takes out a scrap of paper.

This is the last code he didn't give anyone.

Writer of the Report: One thing is for sure now … The age of humans has come to an end.