How long had it taken for Galatea to stop crying? Probably not more than thirty minutes.
Still, judging from how soaked my right shoulder was where she’d rested her forehead, she must have shed quite a few tears. With her eyes swollen, she shyly averted her gaze from mine.
“S-sorry forShowing such an embarrassing side of me.”
“Crying is not something to be ashamed of, Galatea. It’s a rite of passage. Something very sacred.”
After giving her shoulder a pat, I saw her cheeks redden as she turned her head away.
Hmm, resting my hand on my chin, I realized that despite offering to assist her with her revenge, I still knew very little about this girl.
“Let’s start over, shall we? Nice to meet you, Galatea. My name’s Nozomu, feel free to call me that.”
“A, okay, got it Nozomu… and just call me Galatea. Plain old Galatea, please.”
“Right, Galatea. First things first, let’s get you changed.”
It wouldn’t be right to leave a lady swaying around as she is wrapped in cloth, so I guided her to the sector of the Central Control Room where Tisy was sealed away.
Here, aside from the control room, there’s the room of the chief director and the office of her assistant — which was where the now-deceased Tisy and her partner had lived — but there’s also a guest room set aside for visits, which I’ve been using.
After all, it’s quite tiring to walk all the way here every day. It’s lent to me, you see.
“This is my room. I’ll lend you some clothes.”
“Th-thanks for everything, Nozomu. Who knew our Gear Armors would be damaged this badly.”
As we talked, I realized through context that they favor the term ‘Gear’ for things.
Apparently, the term “Gear” is used to refer to highly advanced machinery that typically requires talent to operate, setting it apart from regular, everyday machines.
And it seems that these items like the Tech Gobs’ “prayer-activated holy spears” function on principles that are incomprehensible to me.
“It’s rather dark in here, isn’t it?”
“Maybe those who built this ruin had better visual capabilities than us. We’ve placed external lighting.”
With a snap, I activated an electric lamp crafted by Selene. Galatea appeared a bit surprised at the stark simplicity of the room.
“Do you really live here?”
“I try not to keep more than I need.”
The room, with walls and floor of pure alloy, contained only two things. One was a bed—a maintenance cradle, also known as a “rocking cradle,” covered with fabric to serve as a bed for endoskeleton prosthetics. It didn’t accommodate my type of prosthetics, and it was utterly plain, resembling a simple rectangular block of tofu.
The second thing was a multipurpose container found within the facility, a gray, simple box about a foot in size. Upon finding it empty, marked with AR tags for expendable material production, I repurposed it as a storeroom for personal belongings.
Of course, my personal possessions consist of a few changes of clothing, some towels, and a spare coil gun magazine. Why? Because most of the things I need are essentially kept “inside my head.”
That’s the reason for the bare environment. If I really wanted to, I could layer on ornate Baroque or Rococo designs virtually with AR, eliminating the need for physical opulence.
“Still, not even a single painting? It’s awfully lonely.”
“It was originally just meant to house Rabbits.”
I made up an excuse while diving through my luggage and pulling out a gray work jumpsuit. Her body type is similar, so it should fit her, though since it’s men’s clothing, I wonder if it will fit her breasts properly.
Then again, regarding undergarments… I only have men’s shirts and pants. Perhaps she can manage with these. They’re better than nothing, right?
“Here, this is some underwear and a set of clothes. Use them, please. Oh, the underwear’s unused, so don’t worry.”
“This is too much, sorry for the trouble.”
“Will you be able to dress yourself?”
“Stop treating me like an idiot! I’m not that much of a lady!!”
I’d merely asked as I was curious if she’d been familiar with the type of jumpsuit, but she ended up unusually angry.
Around her insistence on being called “just Galatea,” I wonder if she’s a young lady with some sort of complex about her family background.
“Anyway, can you take off that armor on your own?”
“Well… it’s kind of broken, but I can just barely move…”
I see, so she’s been moving this incredibly heavy armor solely on muscular strength as the functionality failed. She really is a genuine warrior, not relying just on equipment but also training her own body.
“Alright, let me help. I vow, out of respect for gentlemanly conduct, not to look at anything I shouldn’t.”
“Mo-more!”
Embarrassed, Galatea explained how it works and I started removing the bolts fastening the various parts of the armor using an all-purpose tool. Normally, it should open like a onesie and reveal her back, as the system is designed to respond to the wearer’s will and automatically open from the back.
A glossy expanse of smooth honey-colored skin, free of any blemish, revealed a back that was nothing less than radiant. The skin showed subtle hints of well-developed muscles that lay beneath and gave her a very polished and athletic appearance with clear lines of her erector spinae and trapezius rising prominently from the back.
“Captain.”
“I was merely observing from a purely military perspective, Selene.”
Answering her snide comment over the radio with a nonchalant face, I put away the tools.
“The back is open.”
“Thank you, I can take it off from here.”
“I’ll leave a towel and the change of clothes here. The door can be opened by saying ‘open’. I’ll wait outside, so let me know when you’re done.”
Making sure not to interfere, I quickly exited the room and leaned against the adjacent door for a short wait.
“Selene, scan it.”
“…Pervert.”
“You!?”
“Just a joke, joke.”
Don’t pull any such borderline jokes.
What I want you to scan is the discarded armor.
The armor, upon closer inspection, doesn’t appear to have a “main core.” It’s like a car without an engine that somehow still drives. Though it’s equipped with servo-motors for strength enhancement and basic sensors in the joints, it’s needless to say they shouldn’t work without some form of energy.
In our equipment, short-duration units would have batteries and long-duration units would feature cold-fusion reactors, with allocated space for these systems.
However, this armor is too flat—it fits so snugly around the human body that it’s impossible to fit such systems within the armor sections.
It’s almost like it was designed to function without power from the beginning.
“Captain, the scan is complete. It confirmed what we thought: not a trace of any power source.”
“Figures.”
With this revelation verified by Selene, I felt like crouching and hugging my head.
Come on, seriously. A reinforced exoskeleton about 20mm thick and probably weighing approximately 200kg should be immobile without power. And I might accept if she could just barely move in it, but combat-capable? Is the world buggy or something?
“Perhaps, her or the Tech Gobs have something like a ‘secondary brain’ involved?”
“Possible, but no wavelengths of any kind are being detected by my sensors.”
Alright, let’s compromise. Assume, not a hundred, but a thousand times, that humans could be born with photon crystals. Space is full of mysterious intellects, so it’s nothing new.
And if they were linked to machines through wireless or even wired connections for control, that would make sense—except the mystery of where they’re deriving power from is baffling. The centuries we spent perfecting solid-state batteries and cold nuclear fusion technology, our struggles in developing circuits and contact power feeds, feel like they’re being mocked.
Shit, it’s like being in VR with an unlimited-fuel cheat mode activated. Here I am allocating a percentage of my thinking to making sure everything lines up, and this is ridiculous.
What if… what if I’m actually in a VR space, and I’m not yet awakened?
“Captain, that kind of distasteful VR is forbidden by treaty. It’s forbidden by the Intergalactic Virtual Space Accord, like surprise scare pranks on waking.”
“I know, I know… I’m not the kind to enjoy such antics…”
“Rather, speaking of which—did the person, Galatea, have any kind of reactor in her body?”
“She had that, I suppose, if we can call her heart an engine.”
“Well then, it’s not like she has a fusion reactor fused into her body like the higher type prosthetics… Aaargh, the illogicality of this all makes me want my computational logic circuits to error.”
“Me too.”
As I shook my head at the absurdity of the world, the door opened. Galatea, who had emerged showing just her face, was still embarrassed.
“Uh, sorry for asking while borrowing your clothes, but do you have something bigger?”
“Sorry, I only keep human-sized stuff, living alone.”
“Ugh…”
She appeared, her face completely red, but looked utterly ordinary.
I assume she’s pressed down her chest with a towel. Her chest showed unnatural bulges, the black shirt straining as if it might tear, and since she probably couldn’t properly zip the top, it remained unzipped at the upper chest. Does she notice that it rather accentuates her ample bosom?
It is somewhat more provocative but, to be fair, it seems almost like a fashion choice or well-designed aesthetic.
No, if she’s embarrassed, I shouldn’t be looking. I averted my gaze respectfully and promised to prepare replacements soon.
“So, I have tons of questions about this country I come from.”
“I apologize for saying ‘backwater’…”
The conversation continued briskly, yet methodically.
Firstly, Galatea came from a religious nation called the ‘Canopy Holy Capital,’ which lies two months away by high-speed transport from here.
This state worshiped the ‘Canopy’ as capital and the ‘Machine God’ that supposedly created it overnight. They believe they’re children conceived to serve this Machine God’s boudoir.
The state was founded approximately a thousand years ago. The ‘Machine Saint Cult’ emerged simultaneously, starting its rise by recruiting individuals capable of handling ‘Gears’ into its core personnel.
“That’s where your type of magic mechanical knights fits…”
“No, it’s ‘Blessed Machine Priests.’ We control the machines powered by magic, the Magius Gear, while the Gear Priests utilize prayer to activate Sanctus Gear.”
Magius Gear, or the mechanical magic machines, are self-activating items that anyone with talent can wield, with capable individuals making up about ten percent of the populace. The exceptional few among them are the ones who rise to the rank of knights.
On the other hand, the Sanctus Gear, requiring specific prayers or chants, is operated only by fewer individuals—about one in ten thousand if lucky—and they’re considered specially chosen individuals capable of using the ‘Canopy’ and fall into the clerical rank.
Furthermore, other types of machines are classified as ‘Machines’ or standard tools, but still, they fall under the jurisdiction of the church for being remnants of the Machine God’s creation.
Is it really religious or simply mechanical? I was getting a headache.
“I had both talents but chose to become a Magius Geanaite because I wanted to fight for my country.”
“I see… And regarding the principle that talented individuals activate the machines…”
“It’s the Machine God’s grace! We cooperate with the spirits or spirits of machines within them through his grace.”
…Ah, yeah, sure.
The situation tempted me to throw in the towel, but there was something I wanted to experiment with.
I pulled out a flashlight from my belt and removed the battery.
“What’s this?”
“It’s a flashlight. Can you press the button, please?”
“Like this?”
That’s right. As Galatea pressed the button, despite the battery being removed, the flash “shouldn’t” have lit. Yet, it did.
“Why you…!!”
“Nu, Nozo-!! Nozo, what’s gotten into you all of a sudden!”
Unable to bear the absurdity any further, I slumped onto the bed.
This is just… unbelievable, oh come on.
There was this period when stories with guns and bombs carried the banner of “Science doesn’t mock Fantasy,” but I certainly didn’t expect a middle finger salute in reverse saying “Fantasy doesn’t mock Geeks.”
“I’m going to sleep! Don’t wake me!”
“But why are you doing this, Nozomu? What did I do!?”
Though it’s unfair to the confused Galatea, I just wanted to go to sleep early. Too many things to process.
Let the elders handle the aftermath. I’ll let her use my room for now…
[Exploration Records Update] Presently, the primary energy sources for the high-tech alliance are solid-state batteries, cold thermal fusion reactors, and shrinkage furnaces used for large vessels. However, there are no confirmed instances of machines operating without any power.
Next update planned for 16:00, July 13, 2024.
[Note]
Shrink furnaces: Essentially, they are a power generation technology using black holes. They work on the theory of Hawking Radiation, where black holes emit heat each time they consume or absorb mass. The high-tech alliance’s shrink furnace utilizes superstring theory to create mini-black holes inside of the furnace. Particles are absorbed from outside to generate power. What happens if it breaks? It would cause catastrophic damage, so these are only used in space.
