"Speaking of water ripples, I'm reminded of Noah's Ark."
"Noah's Ark?" I asked.
My teacher commanded, "Open the next page, 006."
Following her command, I opened page 006, which contained the following:
APPELLATION: The Giant Ark (Noah's Ark)
TITLE / EPITHET: The Galleon of Silence, The Archive of Stillness, The Shipwreck in the Sea of Memory
CLASSIFICATION:
* Primer: Legendary
* Status: Active (Cyclical, appears before conceptual extinction events)
* Scale: Regional (Its manifestation is local, but its impact is cosmic)
* Level: Primal
ORIGIN: This Ark was never built by mortal hands. It is a manifestation of the cosmic law of preservation. It was born in response to the "Silent Flood"—a wave of conceptual entropy that periodically sweeps parts of reality, erasing things from existence, starting with memory. This Ark is the only anomaly that can navigate the "Silent Flood" and keep its cargo intact.
FORM / ESSENCE: Its essence is a Conceptual Preservation Vessel. Its form is the spectral appearance of a giant ark or galleon from a forgotten age. Its wood is pale like bone, and its tattered sails are woven from the fog of memory. It does not sail on water, but on the currents of time and collective memory.
APPEARANCE & PERCEPTION: Its arrival is preceded by signs of "forgetting." Old photographs begin to fade for no reason, words from ancient languages vanish from books, and people feel an odd emptiness for something they cannot remember. The Ark itself then appears on the horizon of the mind or in a thick fog, a magnificent, silent, and infinitely sad apparition.
DOMAIN & INFLUENCE: Its domain is the preservation of "Echoes"—the last remnants of everything that is about to go extinct and be forgotten. It is a collector, not a savior. Its influence is to "harvest" these Echoes before the Silent Flood erases them completely. Inside its ark, these Echoes take on a semi-physical form, often resembling spectral fauna:
* The last song of a civilization manifests as a flock of sonic phoenixes.
* A dead language roams the deck as a pack of whispering smoke wolves.
* Every extinct emotion (like a unique type of love or grief) is stored in fragile crystal butterflies in the cargo hold.
VULNERABILITIES & COUNTERMEASURES: The Ark is an entity bound by its singular purpose.
* Passive Nature: It cannot stop or fight the Silent Flood. It can only endure it. It is an archive, not a weapon.
* The Law of Exchange: Humans who wish to take refuge inside the ark when the Silent Flood arrives must pay the toll. They must voluntarily surrender one of their most precious memories or "Echoes" to become part of the ark's eternal collection.
* Dissonance of Novelty: As an archive of the past, it is conceptually weak to anything truly new and original. A newly created song, a revolutionary idea, or a baby's first laugh is "dissonant" to it and can force it to keep its distance.
ECHOES IN HISTORY & MYTH: The legend of the "Forgotten Island" tells of an island rich in culture and music, which overnight vanished from all maps and human memory. The only witness was a sailor who went mad, claiming to have seen a giant ghost ship "scooping" the island's melodies into its hull just before a strange, silent fog swallowed everything.
WHISPERS & FRAGMENTS OF KNOWLEDGE:
* "When the world starts to feel quieter, it's not because no one is talking. It's because the Ark is collecting the words."
* "Every piece of its cargo is a tragedy—the only one of its kind, the last of its line, forever saved and forever alone."
* "The Captain never speaks, because he traded his own voice for the first toll."
Scribe's Note: Recording this entity feels like writing a eulogy. There is a profound sadness here. Every "Echo" saved is a victory against oblivion, but also an admission of total defeat against the Silent Flood. I wonder, if one day this codex itself begins to fade from memory, will the Ark come to collect it? And if so, in what spectral animal form will my knowledge be stored?
After carefully reading the entire description of page 006, which told of Noah's Ark, I concluded;
"The ripple you meant, Teacher, is the Silent Flood?" I paused for a moment then asked, "Then what is the Silent Flood?"
"That's right, the Silent Flood," replied my teacher. She then picked up a stone and threw it into the middle of the lake.
"The Silent Flood is an event, or a disaster on a conceptual level."
She then provided a visual using her magic. Right in front of me, on the mat we were sitting on, a miniature coastal city appeared.
"Watch this," commanded my teacher. She then moved her index finger: giving a command, and a tidal wave smashed into the miniature coastal city.
I saw many buildings and objects destroyed, hit by the ocean's tidal wave. Not only that, the small inhabitants inside were washed away.
"This is a disaster or event on a physical level."
"Then what about the Silent Flood?" I asked.
She raised her hand, and the miniature city vanished. "Now, this is the Silent Flood. Unlike its name... that phenomenon isn't like a normal flood."
"Its phenomenon is to erase or sweep away, which is similar to a flood or tsunami that washes things away. Now, do you still remember what the details of that miniature city looked like?"
I became more confused. It's called the Silent Flood but it's not like a normal flood, yet its phenomenon is to erase and sweep away like a flood or tsunami.
"It's a little blurry," I answered, then continued, "What is its manifestation like, Teacher? If it's not like a normal flood."
I thought a physical or visible manifestation of the phenomenon would make this clearer.
My teacher reached for her pocket and pulled out a cigarette, then lit it. This is the third one, and really, my hand is itching.
"The Silent Flood doesn't have a physical form, but we can feel its manifestation every day on a small scale," replied my teacher. She smoked her cigarette for a moment and continued, "Like forgetting or not remembering something. That is its small form, while its peak form is the Silent Flood."
Hearing her words, I concluded, "A memory eater?" based on what I could best grasp of her meaning.
"Well, labeling it a memory eater might fit its essence, but the Silent Flood is not a creature or a figure with intent."
"The Silent Flood isn't a memory eater, but forgetting itself is the Silent Flood," she said. The cigarette in her hand went out. She extinguished it and put the remaining butt in her pocket.
"Hm..." I stared sharply, as if to say, explain more specifically.
Sensing my sharp, meaningful stare, my teacher then commanded, "Try reading it again, focusing on the history section."
I opened the book again to page 006, focusing on the history section with the description: The legend of the 'Forgotten Island' tells of an island rich in culture and music, which overnight vanished from all maps and human memory. The only witness was a sailor who went mad, who claimed to have seen a giant ghost ship 'scooping' the island's melodies into its hull just before a strange, silent fog swallowed everything.
"You said it doesn't have a physical form," I asked, my gaze still on the book's page. Then I lifted my face and looked at her. "But here it's written 'a strange, silent fog'."
"Pfft..." my teacher held back a laugh. "Don't puff up your cheeks like that. You know, you look like a marmot." Instead of answering, she pinched both my cheeks and pulled them like putty.
"Crack!!" I bit her hand.
"Aw... that hurts!"
"That's 'marmot' for you." I turned my face away, refusing to look at her.
Not apologizing or feeling deterred, she, on the contrary, enjoyed it and continued by tickling my stomach. I burst out laughing, feeling ticklish because my sensitive part was being touched.
It's normal, right? For the stomach to be one of the sensitive parts, because it rarely gets a foreign touch there.
She finished and felt satisfied after playing for a few minutes with my stomach. "Huft... that was fun." She got up, while I lay on the ground panting, my breath heavy from laughing.
Then, fixing her position, she sat cross-legged near my feet. I was still lying flat in front of her, trying to regulate my breath.
She again pulled a cigarette from her pocket, as if her pocket was a limitless cigarette warehouse: her cigarettes never ran out, or perhaps she made them herself in her pocket.
Placing the cigarette in her mouth and lighting it, "The 'strange fog' mentioned there is not the Silent Flood," she said.
I fell silent. My breath instantly returned to normal. I fixed my position: sat up facing my teacher. She was startled because I suddenly got up and sat in front of her, very close.
"Then what is it?"
"That is part of Noah's Ark. You can interpret it as the 'Water'."
She then asked me, "Imagine this: the coachman tethers his horse to a tree, and then he forgets. Not just where his horse is, but about the horse." She smoked her cigarette.
Releasing the smoke, she continued, "Now, the horse and the tree are what's carried by the Ark. They are what's stored and archived there, while the coachman is the one who experiences the Silent Flood."
I listened and digested her meaning. "So you mean, Teacher, the Silent Flood, or 'forgetting', is experienced by the coachman, and everything he remembered is archived or stored by the Ark?"
"There you go. But the scale is different. Try reading the book again and focus on the origin section."
I opened the book again and focused on the commanded section with the description: This Ark was never built by mortal hands. It is a manifestation of the cosmic law of preservation. It was born in response to the "Silent Flood"—a wave of conceptual entropy that periodically sweeps parts of reality, erasing things from existence, starting from memory. This Ark is the only anomaly that can navigate the "Silent Flood" and keeping its cargo intact.
I was shocked by the meaning of the description. "Oh... goodness. Not just memory, but existence?" I lifted my face to look at my teacher, as if asking for her opinion.
Then she said, "Yes, that's right, just like what's recorded there." My teacher stroked my head and continued, "The Silent Flood is one of the extraordinary phenomena, one that can extinguish existence on a vast scale."
"Entropy, or natural law, isn't something that can be prevented. All forms of forgetting or memory loss are its small manifestations, and Noah's Ark is what transports all those memories to be preserved."
"Teacher, is there no way to survive the Silent Flood?"
Smoking her cigarette and releasing the smoke, "There is a way to survive," she said, then gripped a stone and threw it into the middle of the lake. "Boarding Noah's Ark by offering a precious memory, as a ticket or a toll."
"We're forced to choose, huh?" I said quietly. "Memories of our existence, or precious memories of something we owned or experienced."
While I was pondering, a voice was heard. "Ladies," it was the coachman approaching us. He informed us that, "Our horses have rested enough. We can continue the journey."
My teacher and I then packed our things, folded the mat, and put it in the carriage's luggage compartment.
We both got into the carriage. The coachman pulled the reins: the horses moved, pulling the carriage. The carriage left the lakeside.
Meanwhile, I was still thinking, is memory really that important? So much so that even forgetting can erase something's existence.
I stared out the window, looking back at the lake, which was still visible. The evening sunlight shone with a calming orange color, making me sleepy.
"Teacher, are we going to spend the night outside tonight?"
"There's no nearby town or village, so yes, we'll be spending the night outside," my teacher stood, closing both curtains on the windows.
"Sleep. I'll wake you when we get to an inn."
I closed my eyes. The light dimmed, blackness began to dominate, and sounds faded...
"Brakk!!!"
The carriage shook. I was jolted. My gaze briefly saw my teacher's large breasts, which were like two balls colliding with each other. My eyes closed again, defeated by drowsiness afterward.