Pain.
Unimaginable pain.
As those of you who regularly try to off yourselves will know, there are all sorts of ways to do it, and just as many reasons why.
Maybe your love life went to hell.
Maybe your career did.
Maybe your family did.
Or maybe something just snapped in your head one day and you suddenly decided you didn’t want to live anymore, so you found yourself a way out.
But Clarus Veyr hadn’t been trying to off himself!
In my next life, I’m never walking around while staring at my phone again…
He had been happily playing through the latest story update of that glorious 2D masterpiece known as Arknights when everything suddenly went dark.
Clarus looked up— and found himself making direct eye contact with a two-hundred-and-twenty-pound hulk of a man who had just jumped from the second floor.
Clarus swore that, in that instant, he saw a great many things in the man’s eyes.
Surprise.
Shock.
Awkwardness.
And, buried somewhere deep within them, the faintest hint of apology.
At the same time, Clarus could swear there was only one thing his own eyes—and his heart—wanted to convey.
And before he could stop himself, it slipped straight out of his mouth.
“Ha…
motherfucker.” Bro, who the hell tries to off themselves by jumping from the second floor?!
Can you even call that suicide?!
His vision went black.
Literally.
His entire field of view was blocked by the considerable mass of flesh now crushing down on top of him, its weight painfully and unmistakably real.
If that wasn’t literally having your vision go black, then what was?
Losing consciousness wasn’t actually all that different from falling asleep.
The only real difference was that when you fell asleep, you usually didn’t feel much beforehand.
It was like sitting through a lecture—you’d be awake one moment, and before you knew it, you’d drifted off.
Nice and peaceful.
Clarus’s situation, on the other hand, was more like getting drunk.
You spend ages going glug, glug, glug— Then— Urk!
Bleeegh— Before you finally black out, you have to spend a good while feeling absolutely miserable first.
Clarus was much the same.
He had to suffer through one final burst of excruciating pain before his consciousness completely disconnected.
…
“What?
Donate his body…?” “Yes.
This scientific research project is extremely important to the country as well…” “He’s still just a child!
And didn’t the doctor say there’s still a chance he could wake up—” “I know.
I know…” …
“Let’s take one more look at our son.
He’s a pioneer of progress…
I’m sure he won’t blame us.” “Mm.
We’re both very proud of him.” …
“Hm?
An antique that’s several thousand years old?
Who dug this thing up?” “Looks like some kind of technological achievement from the Earth era.
Let me check the archives.” “‘Hibernation’ Project?
Hold on.
How the hell is something built in that era still functioning now?” “Look over there.
The energy source has undergone some kind of distortion.” “…Originium?!
Isn’t this stuff supposed to—” “Let’s take a closer look at the power system first…
Holy shit!
There’s someone inside?!” “Hahaha!
This guy’s old enough to be your eighteenth-generation ancestor!” “Eighteen generations?
That’s nowhere near enough!
Then what are we supposed to call the giant machine that spat his pod out?
The Ancestor Launcher?” “Quit screwing around.
Transfer him into the life-support unit.
As for whether this ancient popsicle who’s been frozen for thousands of years can ever wake up…
that’ll depend on his luck.” …
“All right.
The last Sarcophagus.” “Do we…
really still have any hope?” “I don’t know.
Honestly, I don’t even care anymore.
I’ve spent more than half my life cooped up in this tiny research institute, all so I could see this one piece of technology succeed.
“Those big research institutes came up with all kinds of crazy stuff—the Feranmuts, these Sarcophagi, whatever—but I still think my technology is way more impressive than theirs.
“Hell, this technology could even serve as a crucial missing piece in their Originium Project…
If I hadn’t been so dead set on finishing my research, there’s no way they would’ve approved this jury-rigged Sarcophagus for me.” “Yeah.” “In the end, the two of us actually succeeded.” “Mm.” “It’s just useless now.” “We’re too late.” “…We’re really going to die, huh?” “Yeah.” “Think we’d still wake up if we climbed into these Sarcophagi?” “I don’t know.” “Neither do I.
But something about lying inside one just feels wrong.
Doesn’t sit right with me.” “I’ve spent my whole life doing scientific research.
Everything I studied, everything I calculated—there was always a definite answer waiting at the end.
“And now that I’ve reached the very end of my life, I don’t even know whether I’d ever wake up again.” “If it doesn’t work…” “…Then I just won’t get in.” “I managed to develop this technology in my lifetime.
I’ve got nothing left to regret!
Hahahaha!” “I’ll stay with you.” “Let’s go outside and take one last look at this world that’s about to end.” “Fucking Observers.” ×2 “Then…
what about our ancient popsicle?” “…We should thank him, shouldn’t we?” “Not a single test subject could withstand consciousness fragmentation on that scale.” “But this guy could.” “Because his soul was already shattered to begin with!
Hahahaha!” “You make us sound like a pair of mad scientists running around grabbing people for experiments.” “Aren’t we?” “Everyone here has the blood of our own people on their hands.” “We wronged them.” “Then let’s do one last good deed before we die.” “Let’s give our ancient test-subject ancestor one final push.” “After that…
whatever happens will be up to him.” “The program’s already configured.
I set up an AI…
although the AI can only activate after he wakes up, so we don’t have to worry about the Observers hacking it beforehand.” “Other than that, there’s only the Originium-powered life-support system and its energy supply.” “It’s enough to keep him lying inside that thing for tens of thousands of years.” “AI isn’t exactly our field.
The code we wrote could probably be cracked the instant they took one look at it!
Hahaha!” “Soul Reassembly Program configured.” “Originium consciousness storage device inserted into the life-support system.
“Beginning backup of stored consciousness.” “Backup complete.” “Consciousness uploaded to Originium.” “Beginning soul restoration.” “…No idea how long it’ll take.” “We’ve given him one last push.” “The rest is up to him.” “Then…” “Shall we go?” “Let’s go!” “One last look at the Terra we loved!” “Hahahahaha!” …
“Beep.” “Beep.” “Beep.” Clarus felt his consciousness screaming.
It was as though his mind had been torn into countless pieces and thrown into a raging torrent of information, where it was battered and scoured without end.
But Clarus himself was every bit as stubborn as one of those stones.
No matter how relentlessly the torrent battered him, he refused to give in.
He clung on with everything he had for one simple reason— He didn’t want to die.
If a torrent of information on this scale managed to completely scatter his consciousness, there were only two possible outcomes waiting for him.
Either he would be reduced to an idiot…
Or his consciousness would merge completely with the torrent of information, turning him into nothing more than a vessel for it—basically the same principle as the wetware over on that other Terra stage.
Throughout the process, he could feel himself being divided into countless fragments, each one swept away by the torrent.
As he rose and fell within the current, bizarre and kaleidoscopic sights unfolded before him.
Life after life flashed past his eyes in rapid succession.
And as the torrent continued scouring him year after year, one fragment after another that had once been swept away began to return.
Like young swallows returning to their nest, they flew back into the embrace of the original whole.
Each fragment carried with it a different collection of information, piling those memories upon the original self that remained rooted within the torrent like an immovable reef.
The information brought back by those scattered fragments seemed to consist of entirely new memories.
Through that vast, surging torrent of information, the fragments had entered one body after another.
They became one Clarus Veyr after another— the same person, yet each somehow different.
Each one lived through a story of his own.
And whenever one of those bodies reached the ending that belonged to it, the fragment within would lightly leap back into the torrent of information and allow the current to carry it home to the original.
The magnificent power of technology acted like an enormous net, helping the original self retrieve its scattered fragments from the ceaseless current.
In the end, just as countless rivers eventually return to the sea, every fragment carried its newly acquired memories back into the embrace of the original when it reentered the torrent.
It was steadily becoming whole.
The individual known as “Clarus Veyr” was being reconstructed.
“Beep.” He opened his eyes.
…
TL: Wait, is this going to be a simulation story or not, lol?
I NEED ACTIONS, RAAAH!