Clarus Veyr stared at the display that had suddenly lit up before him, somewhat astonished.
“Going by what you just told me…
all the machines here are already tens of thousands of years old, aren’t they?
And they can still operate normally?” “That’s incredible!” The AI replied: [From the perspective of the era you originally lived in, the equipment here represents the culmination of several thousand additional years of rapid scientific development.] [It is essentially the same as you, in your era, looking back at cavemen—and us, with our level of technology, looking back at the technological level of your era.] “Hmm…” Clarus rubbed his perfectly smooth chin.
“That actually makes sense.” Then he smacked his lips as something occurred to him.
“…Wait a second.” “Did you just call me a caveman?!” The AI immediately denied the accusation.
[As a general-purpose AI, I hold nothing but the utmost respect for you.] Clarus’s lips twitched.
He decided not to pursue the matter any further.
“Then from now on, I’ll call you…” “System!
How about that?” Clarus chuckled mischievously.
He was finally going to get his turn at being the protagonist of a system novel!
[…] The System didn’t respond.
Perhaps its language database simply contained no appropriate response for something like that.
[In any case, allow me to play a video for you.
This recording was left specifically for you by the two researchers who previously occupied this research facility.] “Oh, sure.” The only illuminated screen in the entire room flickered.
Two people dressed in strange robes appeared upon it.
Clarus listened to the incomprehensible stream of sounds coming from their mouths, blinked a few times, then stared innocently at the screen.
[…] [Language discrepancy detected.
Searching Earth Era database—English language.] This time, the voices coming from the screen were in the familiar English Clarus knew.
“Hello there, ancient ancestor!” A tall, skinny man squeezed himself into the center of the frame.
A huge pair of glasses sat on the bridge of his nose, and he wore a broad smile.
“If you’re watching this video, then congratulations!” “You’ve made a full recovery!” The lanky man pushed his glasses up and shifted the camera.
Clarus could now see himself in the center of the recording, submerged within a container with his eyes closed and an almost disturbingly peaceful expression on his face.
“As you can see, this footage was recorded while we were treating you.” “As for where you came from…
well, there was a landslide in the mountains near our laboratory, and it exposed some kind of hidden facility.
That’s where we found you.” The tall researcher rapidly swiped across the panel in his hands a few times before holding it up toward the camera.
“We dug around through the records and found out that you’re from the Earth Era, several thousand years ago.” “Apparently, they used some kind of hibernation-like technology to preserve your bodily functions.” “Didn’t seem particularly mature, though.
Out of all the devices we found, yours was the only one that developed some kind of abnormality—and that abnormality was precisely what allowed it to keep running.” He laughed.
“Pretty ironic, isn’t it?” “The malfunction is what saved your life.” “Every machine that worked exactly as intended failed to keep its occupant alive.” “Seems your era wasn’t all that different from ours.” “Neither of us placed much value on human lives.” The lanky researcher turned the camera again, pointing it toward his companion.
He was an utterly ordinary-looking man, with an expression so dull that he almost seemed wooden.
“Come on, say hello to the old ancestor!
We saved his life, you know!” His fellow researcher looked up at the camera indifferently, then shook his head.
“An eye for an eye.
We experimented on him too.” The camera swung back around until the lanky researcher’s face once again filled the screen.
“To be precise, after we rescued you…” “Well, just like I said before, our era had already reached a point where, for the sake of survival, we didn’t care all that much about individual lives anymore.” “We performed a lot of experiments on you.” “But there was one difference between you and all the other test subjects.” “The experiments performed on you…
succeeded.” Sitting in front of the screen, Clarus felt a chill crawl down his spine.
He really didn’t want to imagine what had happened to the experiments that failed.
Whether those test subjects had been humans or animals…
He didn’t particularly want to know their fate.
In the recording, a faint smile appeared on the lanky researcher’s face.
“This was the culmination of more than half our lives’ research.” “Hell, even before the ‘Sarcophagus Project’ began, neither of us ever imagined we’d actually succeed.” He suddenly chuckled.
“Hey, you don’t think the Observers were doing something we couldn’t detect all this time, deliberately interfering with our experiments, do you?” “And then, once they realized we were all doomed anyway, they finally let us succeed just so we’d get to be happy for a moment before we died?” “Like they were screwing with us?” His companion shook his head.
“Probably not.” “If that were the case, then the moment something like the ‘Sarcophagus Project’ started, the Observers would’ve turned the entire planet upside down to hunt down every last participant.” Clarus suddenly raised a hand.
“Stop.” The System paused the recording.
The lanky researcher’s smiling face froze on the screen.
There was joy in that smile…
but also bitterness and helpless resignation.
[Do you have a question?] Clarus stared intently at the screen.
“‘Observers’?” “The ‘Sarcophagus Project’?” “What…
are those?” [The “Observers” are a cosmic civilization that exists on a higher level than human civilization.] [Furthermore, they harbor hostile intent toward humanity.] The System continued: [The “Sarcophagus Project” was a large-scale human stasis initiative created by human civilization to evade the Observers’ extermination directive and ensure the continued survival of humanity.] “Holy shit, things got that intense?!” Clarus’s eyes widened.
A trace of unease immediately rose within him.
If the Observers were still watching this place…
But after thinking about it for a moment, the Sarcophagus Project must have worked pretty well.
After all, he had awakened alive.
Still…
Why did those two terms sound so damn familiar?
“Keep playing.” The lanky researcher’s frozen expression sprang back to life.
“Our experiment concerned human consciousness…” “Or, more accurately, the soul.
“We wanted to determine how a human soul could continue to exist within the torrent of information contained in Originium.” Clarus violently threw up a hand.
His voice practically shot up an octave.
“STOP!” The video froze again.
“What?!” “What did you just say?!” “Originium?!” “Observers?!” “Sarcophagi?!” The System’s voice immediately sounded.
[Originium is a type of mineral.
Among its properties are the ability to preserve information and an extremely high concentration of stored energy—] Clarus abruptly spun around.
On the outer wall of the life-support pod he had originally been lying inside, there was a small glass compartment positioned directly in the center.
Within it rested a magnificent piece of black mineral.
It lay there silently, gleaming with an eerie and extraordinary luster.
[That is Originium.] Clarus sat before the screen in silence.
He stared at the seemingly beautiful mineral— the very thing that, in another world he knew all too well, had brought about untold suffering.
His throat suddenly felt dry.
“When…
did our planet get renamed Terra?” [After humanity ventured into the stars.] Clarus swallowed.
“You know, back in my era, there was a game.” “It was called Arknights.” [No such record exists within my database.] The System continued: [To be precise, your era is simply too distant.
Even the entrepreneur you mentioned earlier exists only as a brief entry within my database.] Clarus could almost hear the machinery furiously processing information.
[However, based on what you have told me…] [This game appears to have…
predicted the future?] Clarus suddenly smiled.
“Was the person in charge of the Sarcophagus Project a half-human, half-AI existence with the codename ‘Preserver’?” He let out a quiet chuckle.
“Full name…
Trevor Friston?” [The true identity of the individual responsible for the Sarcophagus Project is classified.] [However, their codename was indeed “Preserver.”] The mechanical processing noise abruptly stopped.
In one corner of the room, a machine began smoking.
“Then there’s no mistake.” Clarus started laughing.
He was happy.
Excited.
Almost giddy.
“So if this really is the game…” “Don’t tell me Lord Lowlight was actually one of those Observers all along?” He laughed even harder.
“Or is there some even higher-dimensional narrative layer above all of this?
“Something like Nymph the History-Spinner sitting up there rewriting the story?” Whatever the truth might be— “Hahahahaha!” Clarus burst into laughter, his eyes shining with anticipation.
“My last life was a complete fucking mess.” His grin widened.
“So now…
isn’t it finally my turn to live the life I’ve always dreamed of?”