[209] 4. The Truth of Heaven (3)
"Looks like no one's here."
"Good. Better that way. Whether it's a Mara or an angel, honestly, I don't have the confidence to fight them."
Canis tilted his head. He hadn't expected the Harvester who'd inherited Arkein's memories to speak so softly.
"You're different from Master."
"Memories alone don't make a person. I was designed to protect you. To be blunt, without Ikael's help, we won't be able to complete the mission."
In the end, that was it. Shirone held the key to returning to the original world.
Canis's pride was bruised at not being the protagonist, but he wasn't foolish enough to let that ruin their teamwork.
"Still, if we don't deactivate the Meka system, there won't even be a chance. Shall we take a look first?"
Canis glanced around as he moved. Then, sensing something odd, he approached a wall.
Panels were packed tight at regular intervals, like books on a shelf in a library.
When he ran his hand along one, he felt a faint vibration.
He pressed it gently and heard a click.
He nearly pulled back, fearing an alarm. A low hum rose and the panel popped out.
Canis grabbed it and pulled it free. A transparent rectangular circuit board, like glass, was connected to the panel.
He held it upright, then laid it flat.
The instant he touched the panel with his thumb, letters formed in light on the glass.
"I see. The angels' archive."
Canis remembered the enormous number of panels embedded in Ingris and realized.
Ingris was a space filled with knowledge.
He touched a blinking arrow on the panel and the page turned. Astonished, he flipped through more pages and found an endless stream of characters.
It was an information system far denser than any book.
Unable to read the characters, his eyes fell to the numbers under the glass.
The first thing that came to mind was a note Master had left.
Ingris
113-325-4739-49359-234
That was all Arkein had recorded. It was probably a serial number identifying the panel's location.
Canis was certain Master had been to Ingris. He must have realized something here and discovered a way to strengthen dark magic.
He scanned the characters on the glass. He had no clue how to pronounce them.
"Harvester, do you know what language this is?"
"No. It's one I haven't seen either. We might need Arin."
At that moment the letters began to shift, then the language they used appeared on the glass.
"Automatic language conversion? No way."
Ingris wasn't a place made for Canis.
So it was reasonable to assume the panels contained every language in existence.
A terrifying information density.
Canis read the words on the glass again. The page was about dreams. Skimming it, he began to read aloud.
"…Drimo is a world one can enter through dreams. The method is to find the dream-person, Ruber, within the dream; since he resides in places detached from events, one needs concentration to locate him. He is usually cooking in a house or tending children. Only Ruber bears color, so distinguishing him is not difficult."
He turned the page.
"If you meet him, hand him money and tell him you've come looking for work. He will arrange several jobs available within the dream; if you refuse three times, he will send you to Drimo. If you find a job you like, you can enjoy the dream for as long as you wish, but if you wake, the memory will not remain."
Canis pursed his lips and looked at the Harvester.
The Harvester shrugged, and Canis returned to the panel and kept reading.
"Because time does not exist in the world of Drimo, many objects there ignore causality. To bring an object into reality, five conditions must be met. First, help the object's owner and receive the object as payment. Second, go to the authorities and file a report of theft—"
"You can't do that. The Law forbids it."
Canis's voice cut off.
He turned slowly and found a petite woman standing at the first corner of Ingris.
Her skin was pale violet and her eyes were sharply slanted. Her hair curled a light green and billowed, and a small red triangle floated above her head.
She was a single-horned Mara.
Canis and the Harvester stared at her without moving, tension coiling through them.
"Please, could you put that back where it belongs slowly? Even an archangel is forbidden from browsing Ingris without the steward's permission."
Without breaking eye contact, Canis slid the panel back into its slot.
As if drawn, it fitted and blended indistinguishably with the others.
"Sorry about that. It's my first time here."
Canis bought time with an apology.
"I thought so. A subject wouldn't break the Law. Anyway, it's been a while since a heretic came in."
Canis noticed her lips and pronunciation matched—she wasn't speaking by telepathy.
"How do you know our language?"
"Hoho, I'm a language collector. Besides, I'm supposed to be the steward of Ingris—wouldn't it be a problem if I couldn't understand? Actually, if you count them, there are quite a few. People who speak exactly the same language as you."
The first person Canis thought of was Arkein. Then he remembered the language-unlocker party Chief Kergo had sent.
"Do you know a man called Kadum?"
The steward's face lit up and she exclaimed.
"Aha! So that was you? Of course I know. Two hundred years in your time, heretics came. They asked me to lengthen a man called Kadum's lifespan by three hundred years."
Hearing that, Canis was certain.
Ingris was clearly a place that could control human lifespans.
But how?
That couldn't be explained merely by saying the information density was beyond imagination.
"Is that even possible? How do you change a person's lifespan?"
"Haah, I get that question a lot. I don't know how people find this place."
The steward walked with her hands folded behind her like a teacher. Her eyes, as they lingered on the panels, shone with affection.
"You change lifespan because this place connects to the Akashic Records."
Canis knew the term Akashic Records. He'd often encountered it while studying myth.
A supernatural repository said to contain every record of the universe.
That Heaven used the same word suggested the myths might be true.
It was still an unbelievable claim.
"Impossible. You're lying."
"Oh? And why do you say that?"
"There's no way a record containing everything could exist. How would you verify it's everything? It's just exaggeration."
"Hmm, humans are human, indeed. Well, from your level of thinking, that's fair."
Canis felt a little choked.
"So it's not true, then?"
"The Akashic Records aren't some grand, majestic thing. This world is the Akashic Records."
"Say that so I can understand."
The steward's eyes brightened as if with a good idea.
"Since you're human, I'll borrow a Meka explanation. Multiply 2 by 3, then add 1—what do you get?"
"Obviously 7."
"Right. That's the human way of thinking. Humans must find the problem to get the answer. You need a formula to obtain an answer."
"And so? What does that have to do with anything? So you're different?"
"We are different. Then I'll pose a problem Heaven's way. I just obtained the answer 7. Guess the formula I used to get to 7."
Canis fell silent. He couldn't know—there were infinitely many ways to reach 7.
"Now you see? The Akashic Records are simply the answer. Shall I borrow the Nor people's phrasing? Use any expression you like—can you perfectly explain Ingris?"
Language can never convey original meaning perfectly. But Canis now understood what the Akashic Records were.
"Ingris."
The steward nodded in satisfaction.
"Exactly. Ingris is Ingris. It existed before you came. But to you this place wouldn't have existed anywhere. Why is that?"
"Because we didn't know its name."
This was serious. Canis realized why the Ra needed names to adjust lifespan.
A name. That was everything.
"Now we're communicating. To a stone or the wind, the world does not exist. It's complete nothingness, even though it actually exists. They lack the ability to assign meaning. Only when you give the name 'universe' to the universe does it truly come into being."
Heaven didn't seek a single truth.
The truth either didn't exist or was the whole. They instead distorted truth by changing the formula that led to the answer.
It didn't matter if the answer 7 became 8 or 9.
Whatever answer came out would be the entirety of the world, and therefore perfect.
"Humans always wander seeking a single unique truth, foolishly. Where is a single truth? Whatever the world becomes, that's all there is."
The steward pointed at the panels.
"Ingris connects to the Akashic Records via the Meka system. It twists the formulas and changes truth. We call that hacking, and fixing a human lifespan is simple enough."
Canis felt a surge of danger. The technology to rewrite truth with the Meka's power was a level humanity could never reach unless its paradigm changed radically.
The steward snapped her fingers to get their attention.
"Enough explanation. If you came to trade, go over there. You can change lifespans at the central control device."
She cast a furtive glance and pointed to a machine standing at the crossroads.
Canis recalled the black-market dealers he'd seen back in Radum. Suddenly the situation felt unreal.
The Mara belonged to Heaven, and he was a heretic. Why would she not harm him?
"You want to trade? You must know what's going on outside."
"Huh? The situation outside? Is something happening in Heaven?"
"You don't know?"
"Of course I don't. I'm—after all—the steward of Ingris. Processing the information here alone keeps me busy. I haven't gone outside in tens of thousands of years."
Canis intuited she was telling the truth—aside from sounding blasé about being too busy to care.
She was sequestered here.
It had to be that way.
If a steward with the authority to alter the Akashic Records were exposed to the world's information, who knew what monstrous things would happen.
'No wonder I thought it odd that a mere single-horned Mara was in charge. Well, maybe that's for the best for me.'
In any case, a clash with the steward couldn't be avoided. Even if they merely traded and left, she would never allow them to deactivate the central security device unobserved.
"What kind of trade are you talking about?"
"Oh, come on. You already know. Lifespan. I can lengthen anyone's life."
"What will I have to pay?"
The steward pinched her thumb and forefinger and winked.
"Very cheap. Just one word."
"A word? You want me to pay with a word?"
"As I said, I'm a language collector. I'm clever for it. That's why I'm steward of Ingris. Any word will do. Just sell me one you know."
"If I sell a word, I'll no longer know that word, right?"
"Right. You'll never be able to know that word again. It'll be erased from the Akashic Records. But does that matter? Losing one word won't change anything, will it?"
As the steward said, the world was full of words one knows but doesn't use.
If it were a swear word, losing one little curse wouldn't change much, would it?
But the price sounded so cheap it made him uneasy.