CHAPTER 2: A BATTERY-POWERED GODDESS
Today is June tenth of the year '1939'. Not in the sense of real date-time counting, but in terms of technological progression. We are stuck here—all of humankind—and unable to develop further. A whole host of galactic races prevents us from doing so. Human civilization has been downgraded by some strange law which includes, as a rule, the prohibition of telling offenders about the law they have broken.
It's been almost a week since the conversation in the café with the strange duo of an alien and a robot girl. Of course, I denied their proposition, which was a strange one—if not the craziest I've ever heard. Simultaneously, it was very tempting. Who wouldn't want to travel to a distant planet to see characters who once lived in virtual worlds? And not just travel there but be someone—a part of a magical world filled with things created by the best human fantasy minds two centuries ago. Isn't that an overwhelmingly exciting thing? But... I rejected their suggestion on the spot. Galactic citizenship, my ass! Go to hell! All of you!
Such a betrayal of my principles was never part of my plan. To hell with those things and their alien patrons! So many people died after the technological downgrade. Chaos, depression, civil wars, and other conflicts—millions lost their lives. How could I ever forgive aliens?
I still remember my father's voice trembling as he spoke about it. He had witnessed it all—the suffering of children, women, and even pets. No one was spared from the horrors of the regression.
...
Meanwhile, my life returned to its usual routine. I found a part-time job in a hobby goods store and in my free time, I just trained as hard as I could. Reading, shooting, fighting... reading, shooting, fighting... strictly following the program my father developed for me. Trying to forget my loss, I was doing it like a crazy person. The pain of aching muscles after the next training session helped me forget. Forget everything: the world, the aliens, Japan. From time to time, I seriously thought of returning to Europe. Is Frau Lügner still working in the orphanage? She wasn't too old back then. I still speak the long-forgotten German. Of course, not as fluently as English and Japanese, but not bad. In the end, it's my native tongue.
So things were going smoothly for about a week, until she came!
The loli-goddess from God's Game, brought to Earth by Octagon – the representative of the Galactic Union on Earth. She came completely alone one early morning to persuade me. I shut the door the moment I saw her on my doorstep. She aggressively rang the bell. I said loudly, "Go home, BPG!"
"Baka! Open the door!"
"Baka yourself, BPG!"
I'd started calling her BPG at the café; it stands for Battery-Powered-Goddess as some sort of retaliation for her constant "baka."
She probably had no idea and never asked. Seeing that I didn't intend to open the door, she started kicking it and shouting through the door.
"Chicken! My people are dying there!"
She was furious. I'd never seen an enraged loli-goddess in my life, but the remark about dying people stung me.
"For your information, in case you didn't notice, here on Earth people are dying too. The real ones! No advanced medicine, no robots to do dangerous and dirty work. You aren't suffering alone in the Universe."
"Then do as Octa says!"
"What's the point of one or two years?"
"You said it to Octa yourself! Anti... Anti..." she stumbled, trying to remember my words in the café.
...
"Antibiotics," I automatically helped her, in the hope it would make her stop hitting my door.
"Yes, help your people with 'antibiotics'!"
It was a good argument. I couldn't deny it. I may be a wunderkind trained by one of the wisest people who ever lived, but even I cannot beat such a fair and square argument.
Therefore, I just kept silent. Cowardly.
"Chicken!" she yelled, then hit my door once more.
Damn loli! I cursed quietly.
After a while, she stopped. Or at least I thought so. I pressed my ear against the door for a few tense minutes, listening. No more sounds. The Battery-Powered Goddess had clearly left. I sighed and straightened up, just as she banged on the door again.
I cursed, spat, and went to make myself dinner. After that, I'd do the laundry. I had plenty to do without these aliens and crazy lolis bothering me.
After some time, she had apparently left after all. I didn't hear her until noon. I was incredibly relieved that the pesky loli-goddess had finally given up. But I rejoiced too soon. About two o'clock, I decided to risk going to a grocery store. The food in the fridge was running low, and I hadn't been to the grocery store since my father's funeral. Quickly slipping on my sneakers, I opened the front door and immediately cursed fate and all androids alike.
The loli-goddess was sitting by my fence, leaning against it and hugging her knees, her face buried in them. In such a compact position, you could probably fit her into a suitcase. I hesitated for a second, then decided to walk past and ignore her.
I walked without looking back. But after a couple of hundred meters, I managed to sneak a glance behind me. Of course, she was following me. And then I made a mistake. I decided to shake her off, like in some spy thriller. Resolving to lose her in the crowd, I decisively headed toward the Ikebukuro Market Labyrinth...
Vendors were shouting, praising their goods—freshly caught fish and vegetables. The air was filled with the aroma of eel grilled over charcoal. If someone from the normal flow of time, as it was before the downgrade, saw this scene, they would surely think it was some kind of historical festival.
Despite the fact that the aliens froze our progress at the level of 1939, this didn't apply to clothing and shoes. That is, they didn't require us to wear the attire of that era. There was no sense in such a demand. And the aliens, as everyone had already realized, were very logical in their actions. True, some still wore such clothing. In their opinion, it somehow suited the era, but they weren't the majority. My father was one of them, by the way. So, I tried to dissolve into the crowd to shake off my tail, as they say in detective novels.
Pushing my way quickly through the crowd, I increased my pace on a more or less empty stretch, turned onto a side street, ran across it, and slipped into an alley. Then I entered a ramen shop and asked the vendor to let me out through the back door onto another street. He was surprised but obliged. On the next street, I stopped. Exhaled in relief. And froze. The little loli-goddess was standing right there, as if she knew I would come here. No tricks came to mind. Desperately, I looked around and saw a cinema across the street. Its entire wall facing us was covered with a huge poster depicting a mustached samurai, for some reason wearing a big Mexican hat. A busty blonde beauty in a tight red dress clung to him, holding onto her protector's elbow. A dumb movie called Dream Samurai. A classmate at school had told me about it. Father used to say that since the downgrade, people had forgotten how to make good movies. Although, of course, he was just grumbling like any old man who complains about the times. Sure, enough masterpieces have been created throughout these two centuries.
"Indeed, a dumb movie."
I shuddered at the unexpected remark from my pursuer. She probably read my thoughts again. When I spoke words in my head, she could hear them.
I nodded in agreement and, leaning against the wall, stood still for a while. I didn't feel like running from her any further. Pointless. She was probably using some sort of alien tech to track me.
After a while, I made a decision. Let her follow. I'd just ignore her...
In the end, she started living in my house. She stayed there for a whole week. She helped with the chores and cooked dinners—all of it in complete silence! I wasn't used to that. If she had been talking to me, trying to convince me of something, it might have been less stressful. But she didn't. The damn loli just stayed in my house, working like some kind of maid I had hired. And nothing more! The problem was, I knew that two people working together eventually get along—even if they'd been mortal enemies before.
I didn't have much life experience, but my father had taught me a lot, including psychology and how people behave under stress. It was all theoretical, but now I could see how that knowledge was starting to take shape. I knew perfectly well that by the end of the week, I'd give in. As a loner with no friends or family, how could I resist? A beautiful, doll-like girl helping me, silently doing all my chores—it was impossible to hold out. Even though I had been manipulated into this situation, I didn't care. I was just waiting for her to make her proposal again, and I'd agree, even if it meant this mission would kill me.
But she stayed silent, and at the end of the week, she disappeared. No last words, no trace. Nothing.
At first, I wasn't too worried. I figured she'd be back later, maybe went to meet her alien patron. But she didn't return that evening, nor the next morning. That's when I really started to worry. I sat in my guest room, the silence broken only by the ticking clock. I couldn't make a move, frozen in indecision. The longer I waited, the louder the ticking seemed to get, as if the clock had gone mad. I wasn't sure if it was my imagination or if the clock really was ticking louder for some unknown reason. Unable to take it anymore, I activated the damn cube, hidden somewhere in the folds of time and space, always following me wherever I went.
"Timm Thaler, go to hell!"
I half-expected no response, trying to find an excuse to do nothing about her disappearance. But a familiar female voice immediately answered, "Your request, Mister Timm Thaler, citizen of the Galactic Union?"
"Connect me to Octagon, the Union's representative on Earth."
"Visuals?"
"No, just voice, please."
In a second, a voice, seemingly coming from nowhere, boomed into my guest room.
"I'm glad you called, Mister Thaler. How are you doing?"
I didn't answer that and went straight to the point. "Can I speak with Lo... Aya?"
There was a pause—a long, uneasy pause that made me even more anxious.
"Unfortunately, no, Mister Thaler. She's been cleared and sent back to her new home planet, Aramia, after a month here on Earth."
The word 'cleared' sounded ominous in that context. I thought it was some sort of bad translation from their alien language, so, ignoring it for the time being, I asked, "Why?"
"You see, Mister Thaler, I brought her to Earth under the pretext of conducting research, but a month was the maximum time I could keep her here. I'm sorry you left so quickly back at the café and missed out on that information."
"Will she die... there?" It was the stupidest question I had ever asked in my entire life. Plus, I was very embarrassed to ask it. But I managed to make it sound natural. He was tactful, this alien. Nothing less than a good, kind human. Besides, I felt bad for attacking him earlier.
"Mister Thaler, I cannot bring her back. Nor can I allow her to stay on Earth. Aramia is completely closed off to visitors from other civilizations. Except for you, as an Earthling and a citizen of the Union."
"You've set me up!"
"No. The decision to come to you and persuade you was hers, and hers alone. Personally, I gave up on you, despite the system having given you good chances of survival on Aramia."
"Survival?"
"Once again, this is because you refused to listen to all the circumstances of our situation, Mister Thaler. Do you understand that your status as a Galactic Union citizen places you under absolute protection? You are immortal and invincible now. You won't die from any form of harm on Earth—no car accident, no natural disaster. The system will protect you. Even if you were thrown into the crater of a freshly erupting volcano, the system guardian would save you. But... if you emigrate to Aramia, sooner or later you'll have to make a choice. You know what that means, right?"
"No idea."
"You will be able to influence the world, communicate with its beings, and interact with them, but you won't be able to harm anyone, nor can others harm you. It would be like being a 'physical ghost,' if such a term is permissible here."
"How can I change the fate of a dying world if I won't be able to be a hero, to fight villains and protect good people?"
"You aren't supposed to do that, Mister Thaler. Make no mistake. You are not a hero, not a player of some game. Remember that! It's not your world. As a Galactic citizen, you are under a special type of restriction. Believe me, if I had other ways to affect the situation on Aramia, I would have done it already. But the laws of the First Ones cannot be overridden or manipulated. Your task is to teach others how to fight villains or negotiate with them if that's a better option."
"What's the other choice?"
"You can cancel your citizenship and become a full immigrant in Aramia at any time."
"I get it. If I willingly cancel my damn citizenship on Aramia, I'll be able to interfere. But the system won't protect me anymore, and any synthetic person on Aramia will be able to harm or even kill me. Right?"
"You understand correctly. So I don't recommend it. Try another way to save those creatures. You're the son of a very clever human. There's a good chance you'll succeed."
I nodded, not in agreement with his compliment to me, but to my dad. Suddenly, I remembered something I'd heard from my father about supercomputers able to predict the future. We had such things in the past. Not as advanced as they have in the Galactic Union, of course.
"You have quantum prediction supercomputers—did you check my future on Aramia?" I asked.
But Octagon strangely refused to give a definite answer to what seemed like a simple question.
"Mister Thaler, you know that we use very powerful predictive machines, called supercomputers by humans, but we never disclose the results of predictions to the subjects of the predictions."
"Why?"
"Isn't it obvious? It will interfere with the outcome. If I tell you the results, it will influence your decisions and future behavior; hence this new factor will affect the outcome. I'd be forced to request a new set of analytical sessions from the Union with extra details and changes. But at the moment, I have no pretext to justify such a request before the council. The Predictors are the most valuable machines in the Galaxy. It's not that easy to get access."
I remained silent. He was right—logic and common sense. If the analytical output of the prediction machines were bad, he wouldn't have asked me to help in the first place. Or would he? Doubts crept in again. Could this alien be sacrificing me based on some result I'd achieve on Aramia before I perish? It seems he's able to sympathize with humans. Or... A sudden thought only enhanced my doubts. This all could mean he sympathizes with synthetic conscious lifeforms, not humans.
"I agree to that!" I said sharply, realizing that with this immortality they were turning me into some kind of living monster, something my father had refused to become for more than 200 years. And if this mission, this task, means I'd die following in his footsteps, then so be it...
After that, he told me everything I needed to know. About Aramia, an artificially populated world teetering on the brink of apocalyptic destruction. About other worlds being prepared to be thrown into the real world. We talked for a while, and then I asked, "One more thing. You said Lo... Aya had been 'cleared' before. What does that mean?"
"Miss Aya will forget her days on Earth. That's the condition I had to accept in order to bring her to..."
I waved my hand helplessly. He couldn't see it, but somehow he felt the unseen gesture and paused mid-explanation. "I'm very sorry, Mister Thaler. You should have used your chance..."
"Go to hell!"
The female voice immediately responded, "Your request, Mister Timm Thaler, citizen of the Galactic Union?"
"Go to hell, you too!"
"The destination is unclear. Please clarify the destination."
"Disconnect, please!"
I should have thought of using another curse word, I mused absentmindedly. I was overcome by belated remorse. It was too late. The pangs of conscience awakened the image of the loli-goddess-android in my mind, glaring reproachfully at me. What an insensitive fool I was! This girl was not at fault at all. She was a creation of humans, not aliens. Why did I behave so aggressively and poorly toward her?
But the worst part wasn't that feeling—I could handle it somehow. The real issue was the thought that came to me afterward: was it all intentional? Staged by Octagon? Predicted by those machines? Doubt is the most dreadful thing in the universe. It eats your brain alive. It made perfect sense that I might have been manipulated into this decision. Outsmarted, maybe. Still, I wasn't sure, because on the other hand, there were some strange conditions—conditions that could lead to death. Despite my doubts, Octagon might be an honest guy. Especially if my father believed so, there was little room for uncertainty.
By the way, "Octagon" isn't his name—it's a rank in the alien bureaucratic hierarchy. Line, Angle, Triangle, Rectangle, Pentagon, Hexagon, Heptagon, Octagon... I've heard it goes up to "Dodecagon." So naturally, Octa is a big shot in the alien hierarchy. A higher-up. But in my case, he wasn't much help. That's the catch. After arriving on Aramia, I'll face an important choice: be an observer, watching and trying to help with words, or cancel my Galactic Union citizenship and become a normal inhabitant of that world with the right to hurt, be hurt, or even kill or be killed. It's hardly possible to invent a more insidious condition for a normal human being. Who doesn't want to be immortal and invincible? Only rare freaks or suiciders. I can't think of any other type of human, except those I've mentioned, who would refuse such an ability. But I am an exception. I don't want anything from aliens. Anything except letting us progress again. And naturally, I don't want to stay forever on some planet populated by programs either, no matter how conscious those artificial beings are. I am an Earthling. My place is here. I won't be able to get back if I cancel the citizenship. So I'll stick to it until it's over and cancel it here. Those beings on Aramia can eliminate each other; they are just old human toys. I am not part of it. Of course, I'll try to do my best, but that doesn't mean I'll stay stuck with them. I am doing this for Earth and my people, not for imitations of digital people.