12/18/2000 - 8:02 PM
{6 Months After Birth} Decayed Foundation – Living Sector 4
Hello.
I am 000981.
I cannot tell if this is a memory playing in reverse or the reality happening right now. The distinction feels irrelevant.
The room is a box. It is dark, quiet, and cold.
To my left, there is a metal desk. To the right, a wooden table with one leg shorter than the others. In the corner, there is a white bed with a single, thin sheet and one flat pillow.
That is the entire world.
I am six months old.
I have been here since the moment I opened my eyes. I do not know what came before this room.
The woman holding me is warm. Her designation in the system is Caretaker, but she refers to herself as my "Mother."
She calls me "Kaiser."
I do not know what a Kaiser is. I am 000981. That is the number stitched into the collar of my grey jumpsuit. But when she says "Kaiser," her voice changes tone. It becomes softer. Less like the grinding metal of the doors outside.
She has hair the color of the dark corners of the room—raven black. It falls loosely over her shoulders, messy, strands escaping a tie that gave up hours ago. Her eyes are black too, but they shine when they look at me.
She lifts me up.
Gravity shifts. My legs dangle in the air. The ceiling gets closer.
"Look at you," she whispers, a small smile twisting her lips. "You're getting heavy. At this rate, you'll be too big to carry before I'm ready to let go."
I stare at her.
I am growing. Biomass increases with nutrient intake. This is a standard biological function. Why does she sound concerned? Does my weight displease her?
She brings me down and presses her nose against mine.
"Don't give me that blank stare, little prince," she says, a light, vibrating sound coming from her throat. A laugh. "You look like you're judging my interior decorating skills. I know, the ambiance is a bit... 'prison-chic,' isn't it? I asked them for curtains six months ago, but the service here is terrible."
Analysis: There are no curtains. There are no windows. She is stating false data. Is this some sort of wrong information?
She shifts me to her hip, walking around the small, confined space. She hums a low, rhythmic tune. It serves no purpose. It does not feed me. It does not clean me. Yet, she does it constantly.
" Sleep now, little star... the void is vast and you are far... "
Her hand rubs my back in circles.
Why?
It generates heat. But the pattern is inefficient for warming the body. It is localized.
"You're so quiet," she murmurs, sitting down on the edge of the white bed. The springs creak—a sharp noise in the silence.
She lays me down on the mattress, then curls her body around mine. A protective arc. A shield.
The air in the room is always cold, recycled through vents that hiss like snakes. But she radiates heat. She pulls the thin blanket over us, cocooning us together.
Her finger traces the line of my jaw.
"They say you're talentless," she whispers, her voice losing the playful vibration. It becomes thick. Heavy.
"They say you have no magic. No aura. Just a flicker."
She looks at my eyes. I look back. I do not blink. I am waiting for her reaction.
"They're idiots," she says. The word is sharp.
She pulls me closer, burying her face in the crook of my small neck. Her breathing is uneven.
"You don't need magic to be worth something, Kaiser."
Her hand trembles against my chest.
"I had magic," she says, her voice cracking. "I had a title. I had a name. And look where it got me. Tossed aside like garbage because I couldn't..."
She stops.
Is she distressed? Her body temperature and heart rate has increased.
"I couldn't give them what they wanted," she whispers into my ear. "They wanted children. An heir. And when I couldn't produce one... I was nothing."
She pulls back to look at me again. Her black eyes are wet. Liquid pools in the corners.
" But you... "
She smiles, but it is a broken thing. It looks painful.
"You are here. You are alive. And you are mine."
She squeezes me. It is tight. Almost too tight.
"You are my son. Not the Emperor's. Not the Foundation's. You are mine ."
"I waited so long for you," she confesses, the liquid spilling over her eyelids and sliding down her cheeks. "I thought I had no reason to live. I thought I was cursed to be empty forever. But then... they threw you away. And I caught you."
Analysis: She is leaking fluid. This indicates a system error. Pain?
"You have the right to live," she says fiercely, her voice shaking. "Even if you can't cast a spell. Even if you aren't a genius. You have the right to breathe. To eat. To be loved."
She brushes the hair from my forehead.
"You are not insignificant to me, Kaiser. You are my entire world."
She is crying.
The water drips from her chin and lands on my cheek. It is warm.
Crying is a response to physical or mental damage? She is in pain.
Pain is negative. Pain should be resolved.
I lift my hand. My motor control is still refining, my movements slightly jerky.
I reached out.
My small fingers touch her cheek. I try to brush the water away.
If the water is gone, the pain is fixed?
She freezes.
Her eyes widen. She stares at my hand on her face.
"Oh..." she breathes out. A sound like air escaping a sealed chamber.
She grabs my hand, pressing it harder against her wet cheek. She closes her eyes, and her shoulders shake violently. More water comes.
"My sweet boy..." she sobs, laughing and crying at the same time. "My Kaiser... you see me, don't you?"
She pulls me into her chest, burying her face in my stomach. She holds me as if gravity is trying to pull me away.
"I love you," she whispers into my jumpsuit. "I love you so much."
My attempt to stop the leaking failed. It increased the tears.
She is holding me tighter. The cold of the room is gone.
I do not understand the feeling. I do not understand why she hurts, or why she holds me like I am the only solid thing in the world.
But I do not push her away.
I lay still. I watch the dark ceiling. And I let her hold me.
I am 000981.
But to her... I am Kaiser.
She leans down. Her lips press against the center of my forehead. It is warm. Softer than the bedsheet.
She shifts on the mattress, laying down beside me. Her arm moves around my small body, pulling me against her side. It is a heavy weight, but it feels like a wall. A wall that keeps the cold air away.
"Listen to me, Kaiser," she whispers, her voice sounding like a secret. "This room... this isn't everything. Once you're done... once you finish their education... I'm going to take you away."
She points at the dark ceiling.
"We are in Celestine right now. It's a world filled with mystery and magic. It's not grey like this. It's colorful."
I look at the ceiling.
Celestine.
The Instructors used that word. They said Celestine is a location. But they did not say if it is a room, or a building, or a box.
Is Celestine bigger than this room?
"I want to show you the stars," she says, her eyes shining. "They are like little fires in the sky that never go out. And the sea... oh, Kaiser, the sea. It's water that goes on forever. It rocks you to sleep."
Sea.
I search for the meaning. The Instructors defined it once. A vast body of salt water.
I know what water is. I drink it. But I do not know "salt." And I do not know "vast." Is "vast" as big as the table? Or as big as the hallway?
"And clouds," she murmurs, a smile touching her lips. "I've always wanted to know what it feels like to touch a cloud. Maybe it feels like cotton? Or maybe like mist? We'll touch one together. I promise. I'll lift you up so high you can grab one."
She squeezes me gently.
"I will protect you until we get there. I will keep you safe."
I look at her face. She wants to touch the mist. She wants me to see the fires in the sky.
I do not understand why she wants these things. The room is safe. The food is here. But her voice sounds... hungry. Not for food. For something else.
She begins to make a sound. It is not speaking. It is a melody.
"Hush now, my baby, don't you cry.
Close your eyes and drift away,
Mama will keep the night at bay."
It is a lullaby.
"If the stars forget to glow,
I'll gather them all, just so you know.
If the night feels cold or long,
I'll hold you close and keep you strong."
The sound is nice. It is better than the buzzing of the lights.
I look at her eyes. They are still wet. Is the water coming back?
"You are my happiness, my little one,
My heart, my world, my only sun.
Rest now, my love, in dreams so deep,
Mama is here, your soul to keep."
I lift my hand again. I reached out. My fingers brush her cheek. I am checking for the water. If there is water, she might be hurting.
She stops singing. Her face changes. The corners of her mouth go up. She looks... bright.
"Do you like that?" she asks softly. "Do you want to hear more?"
I pause.
She is waiting for an input.
I remember the Learning Room. When the Instructor asks a question, the older units—the other children—move their heads up and down. When they do this, the Instructor stops asking.
It means "Yes."
I try to move my neck. It is stiff, but I manage it. Up. Down.
I nod.
Cartethyia gasps. Her face gleams. It is like a light turned on behind her skin.
"You understand me!" she laughs, hugging me closer. "You smart boy!! Okay. I'll tell you more."
"I… I made this lullaby a long time ago," she murmurs, her voice almost a whisper. "I thought… when I had children… I would sing it to them. I imagined it a hundred times, but… I never got the chance."
Her hand tightens around mine for an instant.
"But… I want to sing it for you, Kaiser," she says, her tone warm. "So you can sleep… safe and sound. And… I'll tell you about the world while you dream. I know you'll love it!!"
She starts talking fast. Her voice is excited.
"There are birds, Kaiser. They have wings, and they fly in the air without falling. And in the sea, there are fishes that breathe water. And mermaids! They look like us on top, but they have tails like fish on the bottom!"
People with tails?
I try to reason this out. I have legs. She has legs. The Instructors have legs. If a person has a tail, are they a fish? Or are they special?
"And Beastkins!" she whispers, her eyes wide. "They are like animals—like big cats or wolves—but they walk on two legs and they can talk to humans! Imagine that. A cat that says hello!"
She is mumbling now, words spilling out like she has been holding them in for a long time. She talks about forests that glow, and mountains that touch the skies. She is trying to paint a picture in the dark air.
Then she stops. She looks at me. Her face becomes serious again. Gentle.
"You don't have to be a genius for me, Kaiser," she says. "You don't have to be the best. You just have to be you. You are enough."
Genius.
I know this word. The Instructors use it. Genius means high value. Genius means you get more food.
She says I do not need it.
She leans in and kisses my cheek. A soft pressure.
I open my mouth. I want to make the sound she made. I want to repeat the high-value word.
"G... Ghee..."
I cannot form the rest. My tongue is heavy.
"Shh," she whispers, smoothing my hair. "It's getting late, honey. You should rest now. I'm here. I'll keep you safe. So rest."
I look into her black eyes with my blue ones.
She is still. The room is still.
Rest.
Rest means sleep. Sleep means closing the eyes. Sleep means stopping the thoughts.
I slowly lower my eyelids. The darkness of the room becomes the darkness of my mind.
I stop thinking.
I drift.
——————————————————————————————————————————
The white light was sharp.
I opened my eyes, but there was no room. There was only a floor that felt like smooth, cool glass, and walls that were endless white. No door. No desk.
I was standing. I was taller.
I looked at my hands. They were bigger. They were the hands of a child, maybe ten years old. My legs were long and solid. I could move them without effort.
This was the Dream Land. Mother explained it. The place where the Decayed Foundation trained our minds while our bodies rested.
Around me, ninety-nine other children stood in the stark light. They all looked the same as me: ten years old, dressed in grey uniforms. Every face was pale. Every expression was flat. They looked neutral, waiting for a command.
A man stood at the front. He was the Instructor. He wore black, and the black seemed to absorb the endless white light.
The Instructor held a slate, tapping it with a finger.
"Designation 000001," the Instructor's voice boomed. It was a loud, dry sound that had no warmth.
The first child nodded, a quick, efficient dip of the head.
"Designation 000002. Designation 000003..."
He moved down the line, listing the students in order. Each number received the same reaction: a simple, quick nod, confirming existence. They were fast. They knew the routine.
The list went on until the end.
"...Designation 000829. And finally."
The Instructor looked at me. His eyes were cold.
"Designation 000981."
I nodded. It felt stiff. It felt slow. I was the last one. I was always the last one.
"Good. All hundred children present," the Instructor said. "Sit."
We all dropped to the smooth white floor. The silence returned, heavy and complete.
"Today's topic," the Instructor began, walking the length of the room, "is the structure of Civilization."
I listened. I had not heard that word before.
"Civilization is the study of order. It is the structure that keeps a million people from becoming a million hungry animals. It is what separates the Asura Empire from a mud hut. To build a Civilization, you must first understand the parts. The first part is Society."
He stopped and pointed a finger at the ground.
"Society is a group of people who share the same land, the same rules, and the same values. It is the collective mind. To control a people, you must know their society."
I tried to put the words together.
Society. People. Rules. Values. The Instructors have rules. Cartethyia has values. The children follow rules. Is the Decayed Foundation a Society? Maybe.
"The rules of a Society are Social. This means the things people agree on. How they talk. How they behave. Political is the system used to enforce those rules—the power structure. The Emperor. The Knights. The Duke. The Viscount. The Baron. The Foundation. Etc…"
Politics. Power structure. Control.
"And finally, all of this combined—all the victories, the failures, the changes—that is History. History is the collected data of every mistake ever made. You study History so you do not repeat the mistakes that caused the last great Decay."
He finished speaking and looked at the children.
"Do you understand the core factors of Civilization? Society, Social, Political, History."
Ninety-nine heads dipped immediately. Yes.
I was still working on Society. If it is a group of people... who is outside the group? The people outside the room? The people who threw me away?
I focused hard on the words. Society. Land. Rules. Values.
If I put these four words together, does it equal the first word? Yes. It must. It is the definition.
I moved my head. Up. Down.
The Instructor was still looking at me. He had waited until my nod.
"Excellent," he said, though his voice did not sound pleased. "Now, we will review a concept from yesterday. The Paradigm."
Paradigm. I remember that one. A pattern or model.
"A Paradigm shifts when the old model of the world fails. A great war. A discovery of a new Celestial power. The fall of an Emperor. The last great Paradigm Shift brought us the Layered World of Celestine. Tell me, 000981. Why does a Paradigm Shift matter more than a simple political change?"
He pointed straight at me.
I stood up. My legs felt long and clumsy. The question was hard. There were too many words.
I had to use the words I knew.
"A political change is a change in the Rules," I said slowly. "A Paradigm Shift is a change in the Land, the Values, and the Rules at the same time."
I sat down. I waited for the nod.
The Instructor only sighed, a long, dry noise. "Disappointing."
He pointed to a child in the front row. Designation 000005.
"You. Answer the question with utility."
The child—Designation 000005—stood up instantly. His expression was still blank, but his voice was clear and cold.
"A political change is only a change in control. It uses the existing structure. A Paradigm Shift is a change in the structure itself. It redefines the possible. If the structure is changed, the entire Civilization must be rebuilt on the new limits. This provides a greater opportunity for domination by the first person to master the new limits."
The child sat down.
The Instructor nodded once. "Correct. That is a graduate-level deduction, 000005. Simple vocabulary, perfect reasoning."
He looked back at me. I could not tell what he was thinking, but it felt heavy, like a threat.
"000981," he said. "Your deduction was technically correct, but slow. And functionally useless. You are the slowest to reason in this entire cohort. You are six months old. They are between two and four years old. That is your only advantage, and you waste it."
"This is not a game of slow improvement. This is for your own survival. Once the trial teaching is finished, the tests begin. If you fail the tests, you will be executed."
Executed.
I searched for the meaning. The Instructors used it when a test was finished. To carry out or perform a plan.
But the way he said it felt different. It felt negative. He meant a bad thing.
I don't know…
The Instructor shook his head. "Don't bother," he muttered, mostly to himself. "You're no genius after all. No talents or gifts. You are a false genius."
He continued teaching the next lesson.
I sat back down on the cold, white floor.
False Genius.
I replayed the words. False means not true. Genius means high value.
If I am a False Genius, it means I am not truly high value.
But Cartethyia had said I was enough. She said I did not need to be a genius.
The Instructor used the word to hurt me. To make me slower. To make me less.
I looked at the ninety-nine other children. They were fast. They were the true high value. They were the Genius.
If a false thing is something trying to be the real thing... then a False Genius is a fool trying to be high value by hiding that they are not.
He thinks I am trying to hide my lack of talent. He thinks I am trying to trick him.
I looked down at my hands. They were quiet. They were not special.
I am a False Genius.
They are Genius.
The Instructor's voice broke the silence.
A few hours passed by as we were taught more and more subjects about civilization.
"The twelve hours of fundamental learning for today are complete. All children, you may wake up from the Dream Land."
The white light snapped away.
I opened my eyes.
The room was dark. The air was cold. My body was small again, six months old, tucked against the warmth of Cartethyia's side. The scent of her hair, the soft, rhythmic sound of her breathing—it was real.
The Dream Land was gone. The ten-year-old body was gone.
But the knowledge remained.
I moved my head slightly, resting my cheek against her shoulder. I closed my eyes again, but my mind did not stop.
Designation 000981.
The 100th student. The lowest rank.
I was the last one in.
The slowest to nod.
The one they called False Genius.
The one who would fail.
I lay there, still and silent, holding the realization in my small, six-month-old mind.
Will I be executed?