As a matter of fact, I’ve been imprisoned numerous times in VR—but for some reason, those kinds of games often start with a prison or graveyard—and strangely, I’ve never tasted the infamous “prison slop.”
You see, I was such a model soldier that I was never tossed into the stockade. I preferred getting my work done quickly and enjoying my free time instead of messing around with contraband or slacking off, so my spotless record ended up being almost gleaming.
I’ve earned over twenty badges, and I have more than a dozen skill medals. While I haven’t received the Unified Army’s highest honor, the Class A Martial Merit Medal, I do have over five Combat Participation Commemorative Medals and even a “Full Prosthesis Honorable Wound Medal.”
So, it’s a bit of a secret thrill that I’m experiencing real-life prison for the first time.
“Captain, that’s rather inappropriate, isn’t it?”
“Ah, Selene. Did you find an alternate route?”
“It was a convoluted path and troublesome to manage.”
Before being locked up, I temporarily lost communications with Selene, but they were quickly restored. She likely sent in a small work drone and cracked a physical line to piggyback on their surveillance system.
“But don’t expect to find that foul prison slop here.”
“You’re right. I’m somewhat surprised by how tidy it is.”
Where I’ve been detained is a small, clean jail cell that seems designated for important individuals.
The room is divided by iron bars: about two-thirds of the space is the jail cell, and the rest is a bare, inorganic area likely used for interrogations or surveillance.
It’s not luxurious enough for a carpet, but the wooden floor is polished clean. The furniture is secure and immovable to prevent escapes, consisting of a simple chair and dining table. Additionally, there’s a rather modest bed with proper springs for comfort, indicating that living conditions here won’t be particularly difficult.
Here I am, not only in handcuffs but also ankle chains short enough to prevent me from running. Now, this mouth gag is making me feel rather claustrophobic—time to take it off.
“ngk…”
I bring my hand to my mouth and spit a silver liquid into the gap between my jaws. It’s a special prosthetic tooth, disguised as one of my molars, containing fluid metal that can change shape upon command, much like a miniature toolkit.
You could say it’s a gentleman officer’s tradition. Should anything happen, I’ve got this one tooth swapped out for such occasions.
I insert it into the keyhole and, without any unnecessary prying, simply turn the cylinder lock as designed, removing the gag that had been shoved halfway down my throat.
“cough, cough!”
Oh, how unpleasant. Likely to prevent self-harm, but if someone can’t breathe through their nose, this device could unintentionally kill them. I wonder who designed this with such cruel intent?
As I clean the saliva from my lips while resetting my tooth, the room begins to stir with commotion.
“What’s going on?”
“I’m currently hacking the surveillance cameras at your door. Please wait a moment.”
Considering it might be inappropriate to remove my handcuffs as well, I wait quietly until Selene finishes her work. She notifies me when an unexpected visitor approaches.
“… How did you manage to remove that?”
“Corporate secret.”
It’s the white-veiled chairperson who presided over the inquisition, entirely clad in pristine white.
I lean back in my chair nonchalantly, crossing my legs—being tall really helps make an impression in situations like this.
“I could use a cigarette right about now.”
“Captain, that level of disrespect may prompt consequences you wouldn’t want,” Selene interjects via radio, stating something quite reasonable. She wouldn’t go as far as smuggling in cigarettes through the small window, even though it’s technically possible. Sometimes, she scolds me for actions that aren’t even in my own best interest.
My posture seems to bore her, so she sighs and tosses a key into the cage. Likely the key to the mouth gag—unnecessary since I already removed it myself.
But creating a detached atmosphere here is part of the performance, and I grin while showing her the handcuffs, though she shakes her head disapprovingly.
“So, esteemed Gear Priest, what brings you here? Unfortunately, I don’t have tea to offer in this room.”
“There are a few questions I have to ask. Heretic… or rather, are you a demon?”
“Huh?”
A demon? In VR games, they’re often invading from different dimensions, causing chaos in the human world, offering contracts to corrupt humans, or conspiring to destroy the world. I’ve crushed many with my sword or shotgun. In one game I particularly liked, some demons were rather friendly—so occasionally, I would team up with them to cause chaos or even play as the villain to destroy the world for fun.
That said, demons don’t exist under current scientific understanding. There are occasional states that dub our mechanization—”digitizing our consciousness into machines”—as devilish, but we are humans through and through. We don’t revel in corrupting others or play the role of the enemy of God—jesters assigned to oppose divinity.
“Forgive me, but I’d like a definition of ‘demon.’ My grasp of your terminology may not be perfect.”
“…It’s written in the scripture. A prophecy foretells that one day someone will appear to destroy the world and tear down the Canopy. This being will mimic our appearance, charm us with honeyed words, and entice us to willingly bring about our own destruction.”
That’s quite the grand entity… but sounds more like a terrorist than a demon. Internally raising an eyebrow, I craft an expression as sarcastic as possible.
“In that case, it’s quite the impressive devil. They’ve been detained without resistance and endured questioning without any trouble—a rather humble demeanor for someone of their stature compared to what I’ve heard.”
“Many believe that you are that demon. You wield Gear Spells without a staff, ride a Gear Caliber that won’t heed our commands, and wear an Exo-Suit that can’t even be disassembled. Many call you a Saint.”
“I only possess the abilities you’ve described, and I am still a human, young lady.”
The ‘young lady’ remark seems to ruffle her feathers a little. I sense her lips twitching beneath her veil, but judging from her voice and slightly revealed neck, she doesn’t appear very advanced in years. Compared to my baseline real-world operational time of over two hundred years—or my perceived operational times nearing a thousand—I consider her a young lady without hesitation. If we count the time I’ve spent asleep, it’s over three millennia—take that sucker.
“Besides, I have no intention of destroying the Holy Capital. What’s the population here?”
“… Over a hundred thousand within the Holy Capital alone. Including the surrounding areas, over a million inhabitants live here.”
Wow, I knew it was a big city, but this exceeds my expectations. With the assistance of machinery, they likely live better than medieval Europe, but a population comparable to Edo’s late pre-modern era is impressive.
My only greed would likely be for the vast workforce and the factories left within the Canopy Holy Capital; it’d be wasteful to destroy such machinery or kill the population, which takes so long to grow.
We, at our core, are creators, not destroyers. The Higher Union tends to escalate every conflict dramatically, yet we take pride in our engineering endeavors, owning over twenty Ringwords and constructing fifty Dyson Spheres for energy extraction. Who would sell over twenty terraformed planets?
Indeed, this belief system leads to some severe misunderstandings.
“I’m afraid I don’t find satisfaction in mass-murdering seven-digit populations.”
“But, according to the Apocrypha of the Scripture—a book only revealed to the High Gear Priests—it says those with terminals on their necks are heralds of the devil.”
And you possess one, she points to my neck.
Ah, I see—it was only a matter of time given the observation window. Still, classifying all human mechanizations as demonic or the devil’s messenger seems a bit odd. The Zodiac Republic may be an old human-style nation, but it accepts mechanization for medical treatment, basic cybernetics for operating machinery, and gene therapy for congenital diseases.
Would the survivors of that nation really point fingers at us as demons, despite being a major consumer of three terraformed planets and numerous ships sold to them as a friendly trading partner?
Also, Galatea seemed surprised, but surely there are people on this side with terminals as well, just perhaps in different positions—it must be the location that’s the issue.
“And you equipped Galatea with one of these, correct? We already know that through individual interviews and physical inspections.”
“That was a medical necessity and has nothing to do with corruption or anything of the sort…”
Yes, I understand everyone has different beliefs. There are even those in the ranks of our mechanized humans who awaken to naturalist ideologies during compulsory education, reject cybernetics, and emigrate to other countries. Even among our allies are those who view us as AI simulacra pretending to be human.
But I don’t recall doing anything to earn the outright enmity of the Zodiac Republic or earn such a strong dismissal from their scriptures.
“Ah… so you’ve read the scripture and have a general understanding of it?”
“I am what you might call an Archbishop among Gear Priests. Only the Cardinal Archbishop ranks higher than me, and I oversee the highest clerical activities underground.”
Impressive. Perhaps you can handle more complex discussions, then.
“I am Lieutenant Wàng from the Second Secondary seeding fleet of the Galactic Higher Sentient Union—an existence known as mechanized humans—digitized souls housed within mechanical bodies. And this Canopy… it’s what remains of ‘Inanna 12,’ who accompanied our seeding fleet.”
Looking back, this is the first time since awakening that I’ve properly introduced myself. To the Sylvanians, I was revered as the companion of a deity, and the Tech Gobs recognized me as a hero who saved the ‘Great Mother.’ However, their civilizations lacked awareness of space or pre-civilization technologies, so I stayed silent to preserve their faith and religions.
However, after such blatant disrespect, I’m neither kind enough nor human enough to indulge their misconceptions further.
“Alright, do you have any questions? If you’re going to treat me as a devil, let me at least answer devilishly within my limits.”
By the way, old traditions say that demons are summoned over three days and banished over four. Curiously enough, today is the third day since I first set eyes on the Holy Capital. While it’s too early in the evening for the ritual, I’ll humor you with an extra courtesy.
Propping my cheek with one hand as the trembling cleric looks on, I deliberately activate the indoor speaker with compressed wave language.
“Archbishop, your orders are my command.”
Now, how will she react, learning for the first time that beings other than gods—or whatever they imagined—created this world?
Selene sends an admonishing radio communication, wondering when I became so mischievous, but I ignore it, maintaining what I hope is a benevolent smile…
[Exploratory Record] There are three types of scriptures in the Canopy Holy Capital: a general translation accessible to the public, a primary scripture used by monks performing sermons, and the Apocrypha, which is viewed only by high-ranking clerics.
The next update will take place around 18:00 on 2024/07/26. Stay tuned.
