Chapter 14:

Locus Amoenus (Part II: Rememberance)

The Young Archivist's Records


It was two years after the vending machine incident.

Aboard Anchor 42D, I stood in front of the mysterious vending machine. Its white appearance and metal and glass construction remained the same as they were on the day I met it, as if its outer shell was never blown away by my nanite deconstruction command.

I pressed a button and chose a can of synthetic Cola. At least it didn’t take payment anymore. Its mind-hacking abilities remained active, but instead of reading one’s mind and making illusions without permission, now it strictly required the user’s consent to do so.

“Well, I guess having a pet vending machine isn’t that bad.” I said. “For all the troubles dealing with you, I did get promoted to Sage after all. And now I can have as much synthetic Cola as I want to have.”

A can of Genetian Kraken Seawater rolled out instead.

The vending machine, its previously installed universal translator damaged by me, followed with a playful “beep boop”.

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As expected, the mind-hacking vending machine was designated as an artefact. Further investigations revealed that while the AI core and the food synthesiser were made merely two thousand years ago, the Amplifier Antenna was made during the Final Imperial Cycle — the last dynastic cycle the Kexteran civilisation experienced before falling into its long and irrecoverable decline.

There remained a lot of mysteries. When and why the ancient Antenna came into contact with the core and the food synthesiser, or why the AI decided to serve drinks from bygone eras remained unclear at that time.

However, since the machine was judged to be safe, it was not dismantled and was permanently stationed on Anchor 42D, where there was a minimal amount of nanomachines. With some safeguards and modifications applied, of course.

But exactly where it was stationed was odd.

On the far edge of the Anchor, beyond the well-curated garden of bioluminescent flowers and away from my dormitory, lied a pavilion and a small, marble plaque. The pavilion was of Genetian Crystal construction: its translucent crystals were of an amethyst colour, yet within them were impurities — Rah’tanian Sparkling Stones — that shined brightly under starlight. So dazzling was the crystals, that the pavilion could be mistaken as a shard of the starry sky under the right conditions — or so I heard.

On the other hand, the marble tombstone was of a simple construction, cut from a piece of the land. It was simply a slab of Carrara marble, one side with the words “Locus Amoenus”, and the other with the name of the dead. But that was why it was incredible: it was made of materials from Earth, a few hundred years before humanity’s first contact with the galactic community.

Familiar — was what my first thoughts were. Back on Earth, I was well-acquainted ith those type of tombstones. People who died in the war, whose remains were often left uncollected, were often entombed with such plain tombstones. The soldiers’ and sailors’ in the military, especially. Just like his tombstone…

“Good afternoon, Sage Constance.” An owl-man in a cloak approached the pavilion. In a rare occurrence, his cloak was not red, unlike the flowers in his hands. “Are you also here to visit her grave? …I suppose not.” He noticed the can of Genetian drink in my hand.

“I am sorry, Archon Burgundy. I am just here for this chilled, and extremely refreshing drink, packed with saltiness and umami.” I replied.

“Did that vending machine tease you again? I did not know it could learn to act like that.” Archon Burgundy walked towards the tombstone.

“All jokes aside, it’s actually not bad. Tastes like a chilled fish broth and the octopus bits are delicious.”

“I see.” He bent down and gently placed the flowers on the grave, then closed his wings in front of him and shut his eyes.

The sun had gradually declined from its apex, and gradually its blinding light turned into an amber embrace. In its warmth, the birdman and the human enjoyed a comfortable silence.

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“Have you offered your prayers?” I said as Archon Burgundy finally stood up.

“Yeah. I wish she can receive it.” But dead people cannot receive prayers because they don’t exist anymore, was what he chose not to say.

“Was she important to you?” I inquired.

“She was my tutor. My family.” The Archon replied, a passion hidden in his voice. Just like always.

“Is that so.” I replied, disinterested.

“Are you not going to ask more?” The Archon said. “You must have a lot of questions by now. Who this human was, what was my relationship with her, why she was here. And why you are here.”

Of the three years I stayed on the Bibliotheca Aeterna, I never once asked specifically why I was chosen to become an Archivist.

“I am simply not interested.” I replied in a dry tone. “Why I was made an Archivist? Why out of so many talented scientists on Earth me, a woman rather ill and uninterested in the world back then, was chosen? There are billions and billions of people on Earth and her colonies.

“If you just wanted a human, you could have abducted a child prodigy and raised them to Kexteran standards. If you wanted a human scientist — why you would want that when your own scientific achievements are overwhelming eludes me — you could have formally asked the Federation to recruit one of their best scientists. Surely, they could have found someone more healthy, more capable, more willing, and brimming with more curiosity.

“But does that really change the fact that I am here? Does it really matter? It does not. All I need to do is to live on. I made a promise, and I will keep it. That is it.”

Archon Burgundy was taken aback. “I am sorry. I did not know you could— would be that upset.”

“Archon Burgundy,” I calmed down a little. “Do I look like an emotionless person?”

“You usually do. I never know what you are thinking.” Archon Burgundy replied with a straight face. “Though, being able to stab people with words while wearing that poker face is a part of your charm.”

“…But I could read your poker face just fine.”

“You are way too good at reading people! How you can read Emerald’s emotions are way beyond my comprehension. He is notoriously hard to read and not even Indigo, for all his experience, can read him perfectly.”

“Is that so… that aside, I guess my act has gotten sloppy since I joined you. I was better at hiding my nonchalance of just about everything on Earth.” I replied. “But visiting a grave… how nostalgic. I used to do that a lot on Earth.”

The setting sun’s light, like a torch, illuminated the crystalline pavilion. The pavilion’s little Sparkling Stones then activated, revealing their distinct colours: blue, indigo, green, gold, orange, red and finally purple. Indeed, I thought, the pavilion was a shard of the starry sky.

Archon Burgundy, who was also dazzled by the beautiful sight, nonetheless pulled himself together and resumed the conversation.

“May I ask about whose grave you were visiting? Were them the ones you made a ‘promise’ to?” He inquired, his fires of curiosity obviously burnt in his eyes, like the true scientist he was. There was probably no refusing him, and it was not like I had something to hide.

“Sure. I will tell you about him, and about myself — if you also share Elisabeth’s, and her estate’s story.” I replied, as I pointed my finger at the ground. The Archon seemed intent to tell that story anyways, so I might as well push for a bit more. “I don’t know why, but I felt I am drawn to her. I felt I need to learn about her as a fellow human. I only know so much about her from our history books, after all.”

“As perceptive as always. It seems that we will have a long, nice chat.”

For some reason, Archon Burgundy breathed a sigh of relief.

Koyomi
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