[297] Master of Consciousness (1)
The carriage carrying Armin's party raced for the castle gate.
The wheels crushed rainwater up to knee height and flung sheets of spray outward.
The carriage bounced over the rough mountain path, jolting on the stones. Amy and Rena gripped the handles on either side with both hands.
"We should be arriving soon. Thank goodness it's not far."
Amy stuck her face out the window. Beyond the sky blackened with storm clouds, a tremendous pillar of light descended as if a hole had opened in the heavens.
When they passed into it, the sound of rain vanished and a warm, sunny meadow spread out.
Armin's party stepped down from the carriage and looked back the way they'd come. Between the storm clouds and the horizon that seemed about to meet them, static-like lightning flickered.
Even where the sun shone, they couldn't make out the coachman's face. Amy thought he must be some nobody whom even Shirone had no particular impression of.
Shirone sat on the grass of the hill, looking at flowers.
His back was turned so they couldn't see his face, but if anyone existed alone within the realm of the Diamond Path, it could only be Shirone.
He turned his head to follow a butterfly drifting on the breeze; the profile they glimpsed wore a beautiful smile.
Now that Rena understood the mental world, she was full of admiration.
Even amid the horrific reality, Shirone's mind remained utterly unshaken. She felt she understood why he could make such precise judgments in countless crises.
But… should she speak to him?
Rena hesitated to step forward.
Strictly speaking, this was not Shirone himself but Shirone's avatar. Because it integrated intimate emotions, an unexpected response could wound them.
"Come on. There's nowhere to back down to, anyway."
Armin nudged Rena forward and approached Shirone. Feeling their presence, Shirone turned his head.
Rena swallowed hard.
"Oh? Armin? Rena too?"
Shirone greeted them with a bright expression.
"Long time no see. Have you been well?"
Armin stared at Shirone intently.
He was truly remarkable.
Shirone's avatar differed little from his usual self.
Among the avatars Armin had encountered before were people famous for their character. Yet even those often revealed disappointing natures within their avatars.
It wasn't entirely their fault.
They were human.
But Shirone was different.
While others might err where no one observed them, Shirone's heart had reached a purity independent of anyone's gaze.
It was an avatar that could only be forged by refining and tempering one's inner self from childhood.
"So the talk about him being Tormia's greatest prospect wasn't just rumor."
Even after parting a year ago, Armin had kept up with Shirone's accomplishments. Such an abnormal streak of success that couldn't be explained by talent alone was supported by this degree of mental completion.
"By the way, what brings you here?"
The avatar knew this was a mental world, but it couldn't separate it from the dimension of reality. It was like not knowing you're dreaming while inside a dream.
Rena asked Armin, "Does Shirone not know why we came? We kept feeding in keywords until now."
"It's hard to draw a firm line about how much he knows. An avatar governs the whole, but strictly speaking it is not the whole."
"Like a sort of core code, then."
"Exactly. All of this is the avatar's operation, but it's not because the avatar's will is present."
"Um…"
Amy's voice sounded.
When the two turned, they saw an Egoist over two meters tall with four arms wrapping Amy in an embrace. The upper right arm had turned into a rope and was choking her neck.
There weren't any projectiles, were there?
Rena looked around and realized the coachman had disappeared.
But why had it manifested as an Egoist? Shirone had been friendly toward them, hadn't he?
"Shirone, why is this happening?"
"Just… seeing Amy irritates me."
Armin sighed.
What he'd feared had occurred.
Connecting cause and effect belongs to reason. Emotion, on the other hand, follows the impulse of the moment.
In reality the two are strictly separated, but the problem was the avatar, a mental entity, could not.
"Shirone, you must suppress your emotions as much as possible now. You're probably aware, but Shirone, your life is in danger. You'll have to cooperate with us. And of course we'll need Amy's cooperation too."
Armin's persuasion didn't make Shirone fully understand, but since his life was at stake, there was no choice but to comply.
As he pushed down his feelings, the Egoist blurred and dissolved into black smoke.
Amy, rubbing her throat and coughing, looked at Shirone with sorrowful eyes. She had been prepared, but being treated like that still stung.
"What on earth is the reason? Tell me so I can fix it."
Shirone did not know the reason either. Memories related to Amy rose like a fountain, but the avatar couldn't arrange cause and effect in order; it could only feel the emotions of the situation.
Shirone kept his distance from her and turned to Armin.
"What should we do now?"
"First, we'll penetrate Shirone's depths. Unless we catch the intruder, there's no way to restore the situation."
"But I don't know how to go down."
"Yes, you do. The reason Shirone accepts the current situation without discomfort is because he knows the way. His logical system, however, is broken so he can't draw conclusions. Think of descending, and speak the first place that comes to mind."
Lost in thought, Shirone pointed toward the western range.
"It's not exact, but—"
"That'll be enough. Now, let's go."
Armin sat in the coachman's seat in place of the missing driver.
They rode for about an hour in the direction Shirone had indicated and arrived at a small village.
Rain still poured there, but when Shirone entered it cleared as if by a lie.
He led them to a shabby stable. When they dragged aside a tuft of soft straw on the floor, a door to the underground was revealed.
"Oh, there really is a door?"
"It's more accurate to say the place was designated. There is a door wherever Shirone believes there is. Remember this feeling. At this speed we should be able to catch Arius and Zion."
Shirone's face hardened at the mention of those names.
Armin flinched in surprise. For an instant he had felt a murderous aura that didn't seem of this reality, though it had disappeared just as quickly.
What was that earlier?
Armin felt he needed to revise his thinking.
Shirone's avatar might look no different from his usual self, but perhaps that wasn't the whole story.
* * *
Shirone's mind — Level 8.
Arius independently gathered information and pierced deeper levels.
The area they were exploring now was a landfill so foul the stench made it hard to breathe.
When the unbearably offensive smell wafted in the wind, Zion covered his mouth with a handkerchief.
What on earth is that smell? It isn't like a corpse.
The fear Shirone felt had been rendered into a scent. It was a smell of death that could not exist in reality.
Arius, already accustomed, ignored the stench and grabbed a passing man.
"Where is the nearest library?"
The man, pinching his nose, only pointed a direction and hurried on.
Arius went where the man had indicated. As they entered the library, the stench vanished and their lungs felt free.
Zion shook the handkerchief out as if deciding it was irrecoverable and tossed it to the floor. He looked around and said, "A library this time?"
Arius paid no mind and busied himself searching the books. The volumes were categorized, but the titles on the covers squirmed like worms, making them unreadable.
However, in one section the titles were clear.
Books on photonics, Shirone's specialty.
Arius ran his eyes along the covers. He pulled out a book titled The God Particle.
When he struck the wall with that book, a rectangular hairline crack appeared. The wall dissolved as if seeping into the air, revealing stairs leading downward.
"How do you even find these things?"
"We trace the currents connected to Shirone's unconscious. Every object holds its own meaning. It's a field that requires study. You could say you need an excellent understanding of psychoanalysis."
"I see."
By the time Arius's explanation reached the middle, Zion was already interested.
As always, leave complicated matters to the experts. He wanted to extract the ataraxia and get out of here as soon as possible.
They opened the gate of Level 7 and a plaza unfolded. There was none of the world-drowning downpour, no bone-shattering cold, no rot-stinking odor.
Zion adjusted the leather strap of his Armand at his waist and steadied himself.
"This place is tolerable," he said.
No sooner had he finished speaking than a man fell. The man's face detached first, his brains spilling out as he died.
People were climbing onto every rooftop.
Jumpers were pouring forth. In one building a woman stood on a chair, preparing to hang herself.
What the hell is this?
Arius, watching from behind Zion, said, "Level 7 is the threshold before entering the REM realm. It's a layer where reason is strong. Projectors at the brink of death are showing signs of nervous breakdown."
"Waaaaaaaaah!"
Two sisters fell from the fourth floor, screaming as if being torn apart.
Zion grimaced.
He didn't care about the sisters' deaths or the gruesome corpses. He just wished people would die quietly and not make a racket.
"Let's move. This floor is irritating."
"No. We'll stay for a moment. If they've encountered Shirone's avatar, we'll be in trouble. They could reach the depths far faster than us."
Arius pointed to a castle beyond the city.
"There we'll meet the Master of Consciousness. Shirone's superego. Divers call it the Antithesis."
"The Antithesis?"
"It's the consciousness that critiques Shirone. It's as strong as an Egoist, but since it's currently on the brink of death it should be considerably weakened. That will buy us time."
Arius turned north. He had to be careful—passersby's nerves were so frayed even the brush of a collar could make them murderous.
The castle they arrived at was tiny compared to the real thing—more of a miniature—but it had a quaint charm. Beyond the wall rose seven red spires, and guards stood watch at the entrance across a moat no more than a trickling stream.
As they approached the arch, the guards crossed their pikes to block the way.
"Halt. Who goes there?"
"We have come to see this domain's ruler."
"Lord Ignite is on sick leave. Go back."
Arius smiled knowingly.
A ruler's name is usually adopted from the concept most strongly impressed by reason. Ignite—an ignition spell—fit that pattern.
"That's precisely why we've come. I have a remedy that can cure his illness."
The guards exchanged confused glances. One of them went inside the inner gate to consult.
After a moment he returned and permitted Arius's entry.
Inside was far from lavish. It felt more like a legionary barracks posted on the front line.
Like the citizens, the soldiers' nerves were frayed, yet under Ignite's control they performed their duties without faltering.
At the end of the hall draped with a red carpet, Ignite sat with his chin propped. He was nearly two meters tall, and a stylish beard tinged brown caught the eye.