Suddenly, a sensation pulled her consciousness back to reality.

  “…”

  It felt like a nostalgic dream—of distant memories, over two hundred years old, of a family and an encounter with a nameless man. Eve shook her head, rubbing her tingling fingertips together.

  “…Where am I?”

  A faded room, a monochrome vista. The scenery unraveled like a watercolor painting submerged underwater, exuding vague hues. Sponge burst from a leather sofa; dishes on a shelf froze mid-fall—an abnormal sight. The room, eerily similar to Danan’s yet somehow different, seared its strange visage into Eve’s prismatic eyes.

  Was this a hallucination… a continuation of the dream? Connected to the Hakara Deck, she should still be unconscious, undergoing neural treatment—repairs in progress. Then this room must be a fragment of Danan’s memory, shared through the same deck.

  “…” Turning to leave for the entrance, a stranger’s voice echoed, “Leaving without a greeting? That’s poor manners, miss.”

  “…Who’s there?” Eve asked.

  “Shouldn’t you introduce yourself before asking someone’s name?”

  “…”

  “Silent, huh? Fine, I’ll let it slide.”

  At the edge of her vision, Eve glimpsed a man—an old-fashioned cowboy. A tattered coat, a bullet-scarred hat, a mechanical arm with neon-green lines. With a white beard and a cigarette in his mouth, the old man’s shadowed eyes fixed on the silver girl, a nihilistic smile curling his lips.

  “…I’m Eve. You are?” she said.

  “John Doe.”

  “Cut the jokes. Nameless everyman, is that it?”

  “If that’s what you want to think, go ahead. If not, deny it in your mind. Either way, here I’m John Doe. Objections or not, the outcome’s fixed, and you’re smart enough to know it’s meaningless to argue.”

  “…”

  Then why bother naming yourself? Swallowing the words rising in her throat, Eve sighed and faced John Doe.

  “John,” she said.

  “What’s up, Miss Eve?”

  “I want to return to reality. Is the exit that way?”

  “Could be. Could not be.”

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  “…Playing riddles now?”

  “Riddles? If you see my words as riddles, they’re riddles to you. But I’m not spinning any mysteries—not a word, not a phrase, just earnest talk.”

  “John Doe’s a mystery in itself.”

  “Here, that’s my name. No lies, Miss Eve.”

  Your existence is the mystery. A nameless everyman… In the undercity, where law’s order doesn’t exist, people live by the strong’s rules. John Doe must’ve lost his name—or had it taken—by those rules.

  No, she shouldn’t waste time talking to this old man. She had to act to fulfill the plan. Her childhood was long withered; as an adult, she bore the duty to pave the way for the next generation. Even if no one understood her, she had to tread the thorny path. But…

  “Being alone is sad, miss,” John said.

  “…”

  “Alone, you hit limits. Even with like-minded allies, parting ways voids the point. Trouble is, the lonelier humans are, the harder they try to do it all themselves, repeating mistakes. A friend I knew made the same errors over and over.”

  Cigarette ash fell from John’s coat, shattering like crushed glass, scattering white fragments.

  “…No one knows me. Nameless, Canaan, my parents—all gone, far from me. I exist to fulfill the plan, to reclaim a world where everyone can live… That’s the same now as it was then. No… it mustn’t change.”

  “Even if your heart’s dyed in despair?” John asked.

  “…”

  “Miss, you can still start over. Even if you’ve mistaken life’s meaning, even if your other half follows a false god, it’s too early to despair.”

  “You know about Canaan!?”

  “I know everything. That’s why we’re talking. But it’s too soon to tell you all, to teach you. That’s why I’m giving advice, Miss Eve.”

  With a flicker, John vanished from the armchair, reappearing behind Eve. She tried to deploy her silver wings, but in this dreamlike realm, her body-mounted weaponry didn’t exist.

  “Is a laid rail your fate, or do you decide your own path? That’s humanity’s age-old question, with no fixed answer. But, Miss Eve, your mission and fate are others’ wishes. Prayers sparked by others’ will… that’s no destiny, just puppet strings.”

  “That’s not true!” Eve snapped.

  “You think you understand? You don’t. You get it in your head, but your heart rejects it—you’re just a stubborn know-it-all. Seeing you reminds me of my son. Like you, he trusted only himself, ignoring his heart’s cries. I was always worried about that fool.”

  Leaving the scent of tobacco, John vanished again, now looming over Danan, asleep on the sofa. His shadowed eyes carried deep sorrow.

  “Your son… You mean Danan’s—”

  “Don’t say it, miss. In Danan’s mind, I’m already gone, a ghost not of this world. A parent who can’t watch their changing son is just a specter. Tools depend on their use—used poorly, they’re evil; used well, they’re good. Same with humans, I reckon.”

  “…No regrets?” Eve asked.

  “Saying I have none would be a lie. But stopping for regret halts progress. Even if you stumble or fall, dragging your feet forward matters. Whining about pain, sobbing in anguish… as long as you live, there’s a next step.”

  “Danan… he’s lived with your words, your teachings, etched in his heart, without shedding a tear.”

  “Miss Eve,” John said.

  “…”

  “The coordinates in Nephthys point to hope, but also despair’s beacon. Focus only on reaching the mid-level city. My ally’s there.”

  “Ally?”

  “Yeah, they’ll contact you in time. Don’t worry—Danan remembers them. No need for concern.”

  Roughly ruffling Danan’s hair with his mechanical arm, John pointed to the entrance. “Not an exit, but the path forward’s there. My fool son’ll wake soon enough.” He strode through the pulsing room, sat in the chair, and lit a new cigarette.

  “…Thank you, John,” Eve said.

  “Don’t thank me. Save it for when you seize the future you accept.”

  “Alright. I’m going. Goodbye… Danan’s dad.”

  “Not blood, but… he’s my pride. He’ll be a good man—I guarantee it. Marry him, Miss Eve.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  Leaping through the crumbling, cracking room toward the entrance, Eve melted into faint light. Watching her, John exhaled purple smoke.

  “Keep going,” he muttered.