The girls pass through thick forestry, followed by Aku, and come to another small clearing, housing the smallest theatre yet. This time, however, they are met by a large group entering the clearing from either side of the woods.

“The psycho cultists made it here already,” Mary remarks, clicking her tongue in disgust at the armed people.

“Did they… take out the Shibutani men?” Mirei says, voice quivering as she takes a step back toward the trailing Aku.

“Doesn’t matter, does it?” Mary says, cracking her knuckles as she steps forth, glaring at the unmoving group. “Get out of our way, cultists. We’re here to view the last showing with JC. He won’t go in without us, and vice versa. You should be able to respect that. You wouldn’t dare put him in danger at this critical stage, would you?”

The group stays silent as Mary treads confidently into their midst, walking by them without issue. She looks back as she nears the theater’s entrance, nodding her head for Aku and Mirei to follow.

“You’re not going to get all afraid on me, now, are you?”

Mirei takes a deep breath. Placing her clenched fists over her heart, she follows after Mary, glancing at the cultists along the way. Aku follows, casually looking over the group while they direct their disdainful gazes at him.

“Let’s go,” Mary says, climbing the few stairs and crossing over the stone archway into the nondescript theater.

“Wait,” Mirei mutters, looking at her hands, and then at Aku. “If Mary was able to use her storm, then I should be able to use my ice, right?”

“In theory, it should be possible,” Aku states plainly, following Mary up the stairs and into the shadowy threshold of the building.

“Then I’ll keep this building safe while we’re inside,” she replies, holding her hands out to her sides with a determined look.

As her hands slowly crane skyward, a thick wall of ice appears from the grass scaling the theater’s base, and grows up to its rooftop, creating a barrier the likes of thick plexiglass. Mirei hurries up the stairs and into the theater as the wall of ice fills the archway, creating a solid wall.

“Okay, let’s go,” she mutters through choppy breaths as she wipes the sweat from her brow with the same determined expression. Without a word, Mary proceeds through the dark, empty lobby down a narrow hallway. Its walls are lined with large window frames and screens containing abstract, colorful depictions of space. For several minutes we traverse what should have been a short hallway, considering the size of the theater.

Finally, a set of double doors lead us into a much larger theater room than before. The seats line the outside of the circular room, while the theater screen rests at the ceiling, a sea of stars projected onto it.

As the girls silently take their seats, leaving a seat in the middle for Aku, the stars begin to illuminate and the room with a stark white light. “Finally, I’ve made it to my goal,” Aku says in a whisper. “All that’s left is to see how much you’ve changed this time…”

The girls, too distracted by the consuming light to hear his whisper, shield their eyes. Aku takes a seat, and by the time the bright white light dissipates, my own consciousness takes over Mathais’ body.

“Trust me, I’ll show you,” I mutter, spreading my host’s lips into a smirk, as the world blends into the stars on the screen. As if we ourselves were projected onto the screen, the stars surround us. I can no longer see the girls next to me, only the bright, boisterous stars. Passing through them like a bird, I travel in the direction of a great, fiery star in the distance.

As I approach the star, I watch as many other small stars gravitate toward it, and become consumed by it. With each consumption, the gigantic fiery star grows larger and more boisterous. I draw closer to the star, pulled in like the other stars. As I prepare to be consumed, I notice countless humanoid figures gliding along the stars.

Their makeup is similar to the star itself, like static energy conformed into the shape of a giant human. Hundreds of these monolithic figures seem to be watching me glide into the core of the star where my consciousness is ripped apart.

Whatever I was is decimated and made anew. Like a plant I grow on the star, amongst the others. I wander around the star for what feels like eternity, before another figure waves its arm at me.

My consciousness wavers, as if a switch was flipped. Suddenly, I stare through the eyes of a young boy, filled with the urge to exert some of the power I’ve held dormant for so long. Bodies fall bloody around me. Barely aware of myself, I escape, and run like a beast through the wilderness.

When hungry, I hunt small animals like it’s natural to me. When weary, I allow the one trying to regain his body to take over, if only for a moment. When he takes over, I’m stricken by everything he feels. The pain of losing, and the emptiness of longing. I feel his longing for a split second, before my consciousness clicks like a camera shutter.

Instead of returning to the stars, I come to a new place. An incomplete place. Orange light fills the sky, painting an unending sea in twilight. Crushing waves surround me, threatening to wash away the wood under my feet.

I’m standing on a long, thin pier in the middle of an ocean. It leads nowhere, and has no end. Feeling a sense of loneliness as the waves thrash, nearly pulling me into the endless ocean, I recall the memories of the one whose body I’ve inhabited. The pier that lined the coast of his hometown, complete with many festive stalls and red and blue coastal houses built snugly into the boardwalk’s trunk.

As the memories flood me, they materialize in the makeshift world. The chaos continues as the city beyond the newly grown coast springs into livelihood, filling the world with sights, sounds, and smells. Seeking a reprieve from the boisterously growing world, I return to the body of the boy traversing the long countryside.

Finally, I reach a place that resembles the town from his memories. Exhausted by the long journey, I allow him to take over, and return to the great star. For years, I’m gnawed at by the sense of longing I felt when the boy’s memories flowed into the fake world. I raise my effervescent hands to my face, remarking how empty they’ve remained all this time. Longing for the feeling of something to grasp, my consciousness flickers out.

I return, at last, to the boy’s body, laying on a cold hardwood floor while several larger boys unload a flurry of punches and kicks onto me. Despite the pain, my attention is captured by the sound flowing into my ears, coming from a device the boy had fit around his head.

A beautiful sound, comprising of varying chords, fills my head and brings me serenity. Unwilling to raise a hand to defend mine and his body, I let the beating play out, content to hear the song to its end. When it finally does end, I’m pulled back to the fake world, where I walk down the pier.

More of the boy’s memories flood my head, including the image of several ghostly figures hovering throughout the coastal town. One in particular, the lanky figure of the boy who appeared hiding behind a building as well as entering the boy’s house on that fateful day, strikes me as similar. Vanishing into thin air, the figure is replaced by the boy’s parents, standing alone on the beach. They look out to sea, as if fixated on something. I turn to look, and find nothing but the vast sea.

Drawing further back for more memories, I allow the world to build more and more. The festive feeling around me grows, as does a sense of comfort. I scale the pier, losing track of the steps I’ve taken as the city forms from nothingness along the horizon. At last, a lovely melody reaches my ear. In the distance, perhaps from the sea, the sound of a piano rings across the world. Just like it had when I last inhabited his body, the song puts me in a trance- evoking a hopeful melancholy. While I listen, feeling a tear roll down my cheek, my consciousness shifts back to the boy.

Much like the first time, I take over in a blind rage. I use his fists like vicious claws of a cornered animal. In mere seconds, the same children who had beaten me lay lifeless and bloody on the wet pavement.

As the rage subsides, and I feel my consciousness give way to the boy, I realize the same song is playing. Focused in the headphones around my ears, it continues, breathing life into me.

For the first time, I am overcome with the urge to do what I never thought possible- to communicate with the boy. As the torch passes back to him, I offer just one thought, focusing on it with all my being.

“Protect this melody.”

The shutter clicks, forcing me out. I return to the great star, where I am greeted by the same silvery figure that once waved at me. “You have been here for some time,” it says in inhuman dialect. “Yet, you still have not ventured to your world. It must be time for you to go, if you want your world to have a chance. Or are you putting your hopes into the backup created by your counterpart’s subconscious tuning?”

Just as it predicted, my consciousness begins to wane as I discover a planet in the distance. I retain only a glimpse of my hands as I gaze at the blue and green star in the direction we head in. I’m overcome with a desire to go to the place we will eventually consume.

Therefore, I go, leaving the countless monolithic figures behind. I land, after what seems like decades, on the dull, green earth. I see through the eyes of a bird, flying through the outskirts of a town. The bird begins to burst at its seams almost as quickly as I inhabit it, so I move to a deer. The deer implodes not long after, prompting me to jump to the next animal. Continually jumping, I seek something that can contain my powerful being. None of the wildlife suffice, so I look into the city itself. There, I find a machine capable of storing my consciousness.

I can’t see anything, but I derive that I am in a small room populated by two men.

“Mathais, what is this?”

“It is… something completely new. It may be what Laplace predicted…”

“What is it?”

“Something alien… something that should comprehend us.”

“You don’t mean…”

“Can you hear us? Do you understand us?”

“Yes,” I answer with certainty through the machine’s speaker. “I understand. Everything.”

“Everything? What is everything?”

“I will show you. I only ask that you find my counterpart- the one whose desires brought me here.”

The shutter clicks, and I finally return to the fake world where I walk aimlessly across the pier, never growing weary. Noticing the fixed movement of the sun in the sky, I wish for it to move, and create the concept of time here as it in the boy’s world. Miraculously, it begins to move, as if by my command. I allow the sun to fall, and the moon to rise, bringing darkness to the sky, along with countless stars. The stars hang powerfully above, like they’re watching and judging my work.

At last, my body grows tired, as if walking all this time has caught up to me. I fall face first into the wood, feeling the cool breeze on my cheek. With the breeze comes the scent of festival foods, drawing me to feel a rumbling pain in my stomach. I gaze inland in search of food, and discover the city lights casting a calm haze amidst the night sky.

Hungry to learn more about the world, I project myself into the sky, away from the replica body of the boy whose face I haven’t seen in years. I venture into the city, where people wander about aimlessly. The people and scenery still seem to be operating from the boy’s memory, so I tune them to fit a more modern setting. I give them purpose, direction, a destination, and their own free will.

The city grows busier and louder, as the concept of time is now acknowledged by the people. Hungry for more, I leave the city, taking the same hilly path I took in the boy’s body long ago. The scenery is the same, and matches my memory of the boy’s experiences, all the way through to the village called Vik. I see the foster mother who raised him, the policeman who found him, and the boys who tormented him.

However, the world stops there. I cannot go beyond the coast, where strong winds and waves push me back to the beach with every attempt to press forward. I return to the real world, within my machine.

“I will require something,” I say plainly.

“What is it?” the man called the Director asks over the creaking sound of an opening door.

“Experience. Memories. Harvested from those who have traveled beyond Iceland. Start with Ireland, and go beyond.”

“Certainly,” he says in a low, satisfied voice.

With a click of the shutter, I return to the fake world. Like an artist conveying his images onto a canvas, I contort the world based on the countless memories I’ve received. From Paris, France, to Japan, I will into existence a replica of the world in my stolen memories. This world acts just as the original one, its people moving day to day, almost in sync with one another. After observing it for months, I become satisfied, and return to the original world.

“Oh, you’re back,” the Director says smoothly. “Great timing, we were just about to begin the experiment we’ve been planning. Mathais is prepping the two subjects, who have been in and out of emergency surgery and are expected to reach a comatose state by the end of the day.”

“I would like to see them,” I reply.

“Oh?” Would you like to take over Mathais’ body for a moment? That is fine with me, just do not kill him, please. His consciousness is registered in the PC Booster, so you should be able to find him with ease.”

As he says, I quickly locate the bespectacled man. My consciousness lands within his mind, and I open his eyes to see two frail girls hooked up to a machine labeled “Mini Collider”.

To my surprise, they are both awake and alert. It seems Mathais had just administered some sort of medicine into their arms through a needle, and resupplied their IV drips.

The girl with mid-length black hair, clearly paler and more tattered than the other, is shaking in her bed like a stray dog in the rain. Her eyes look more distant than anything I’ve seen in all of the memories I’ve stolen.

“It’s okay, Mary,” the pink-haired girl declares in a hoarse voice. Tears brimming in her eyelids, she forces a weak smile and reaches her hand out to the broken girl. “If things get scary, we just have to rely on each other. As long as we do that, our hearts will remain whole. I know you never asked for any of this, but the bond we were forced to share… can never be severed, now… right?”

“O-okay…” the dark-haired girl sheepishly mutters, extending her thin, trembling arm toward hers. “We just have to stay by each other’s side…”

As their hands clasp together weakly, I suddenly feel unwelcome. As though I’ve barged in on something, a pure scene that I have no right to see. It’s not as if their circumstances are my fault. However, for the first time, I feel a burden, like a weight in my chest. A weight that I’ve learned about from my memories- that of guilt.

“You’re both very strong,” I mutter, turning around. “I hope you’ll continue to show such strength tomorrow.” Not waiting to find out whether they heard me or not, I leave Mathais’ body, and return to the dark machine.

“Well, what did you think?” The Director’s cold voice rings from within the small room.

“They are fantastic candidates,” I answer. “Whether or not one of them can store my consciousness within their body, however, will depend on their growth inside my world.”

“Still insisting your other half cannot be the one to obtain your power?” He says with a short chuckle.

“I’ve told you, it is not possible,” I reply firmly. “I could only reach out to him before because of where I was reaching from. But now that I am physically here in this world, the two of us cannot exist juxtaposed to the other. He will eventually realize this, and wish to erase me.”

“And, will you try to erase him?” the Director asks provocatively.

“That depends,” I reply shortly. “That is not how I prefer things to go…” I trail off. “Speaking of, have you had any luck locating him?”

“He isn’t quite in our field of view yet,” he responds in an even colder tone. “But he will be soon. Laplace’s projections tell us he’ll be here soon, but it may be some time before he comes to us directly.”

“How long?” I ask pointedly.

“Three years is what we are hoping,” he replies in a low voice.

“Whenever he arrives, he must come to us on his own,” I declare, before going into a long slumber.

I travel through void, on the way to the fake world. As I prepare to assimilate the newest memories I’ve gained into it, a strange thought comes over me. “Have I somehow… done this before?”

The shutter clicks as I continue building the world with stolen memories. Perhaps it is because I’ve already experienced the memories as they were transferred to me, but even the act of implementing them to shape this world like the original feels like déjà vu.

Even as the bustling streets of Tokyo play out before my eyes for the first time, it feels like a familiar place. As I explore its every crowded street corner, I begin to feel a sense of nostalgia. The smiling faces and loud chatter remind of the festival setting in Iceland that I watched for so long.

I can’t help but wonder why I’m feeling this way. Is it because he’s in Japan in the real world? At last, we will be in the same place. It’s according to my plan, but I feel a sense of dread as well, a looming feeling that he is closing in on me instead.

I take the road leading to the lab. To my utter shock, the grass and trees lining the road begin to change color in sync with my strides. Blue, pink, and a sharp green reveal themselves like a brilliant abstract painting.

What could have caused this? And why do I feel a sinking feeling in my chest at the sight of the magnificent colors? A gust of wind shakes me from behind, shuddering the multi-colored cherry-blossom trees and prompting me to turn back.

Along the adjacent road, people pass by. A young couple sheepishly holding hands. A group of schoolkids pushing each other playfully. A mother holding her gleeful child’s hand as they walk. A middle-aged man smoking a cigarette whilst walking his dog. And an elderly couple firmly clasping each other’s hand as they gingerly pace down the sidewalk, completely unaware of the abnormal coloring of the scenery just down the road from them.

Upon seeing these people pass, carrying on with their lives happily despite their artificial creation, I raise my hands to my eyes. Rather, I raise the hands of the boy. Within them, I feel a sense of longing. A sense that these hands could never hold anything within them, as long I am the one in control.

I turn dazedly back to the road leading to the lab. As I look to the grass, something fills my eyes, blurring them. My feet stagger as I panic over the foreign substance stealing my vision. Finally, a gust of wind flicks the substance away, and my vision becomes clear as I gaze upon the green grass and trees.

The shutter clicks forcibly through a series of conversations. “The girls’ memories have been added to your database,” Mathais assures in an enthusiastic voice. “You should be able to tune your world in whatever direction will fit naturally for their futures, if they were to exist.”

His voice fades as the shutter clicks into another scene void of any light or shape. “We’ve located your other half,” the Director declares confidently. We will utilize memories of those around him, for now, to give you a better look into his current life. At least, for the time being, while we wait for him to come to us.”

His voice fades, before reaching me again. “It seems to have finally worked,” the Director drones with some relief. “The girls’ signals were located amidst your database within the Mini Collider, adjacent to their memories registered in the PC Booster. This means you should find them, matured version of them, in your world.”

Interrupted by a loud ringing, I gaze at my wristwatch. The time reads on the display while the watch alarms in frantic cadence.

As if waking up from a long dream, I shake the cobwebs and find myself standing in the street once more. As if prompted by some supernatural force, I crane my head to the side, to find a beautiful and slender dark-haired girl approaching me from the same sidewalk I had watched people pass carelessly by.

“You must be JC,” she says in a disinterested voice. “I hope you’ll take care of me… that is, while you keep an eye on me for the Shibutani Group.”

“I will do my best,” I answer sincerely. “Technically speaking, I am not doing what you think I am on behalf of the Shibutani. But I suppose the truth isn’t far from that, either.”

“Very reassuring,” she says, clicking her tongue at me.

“More importantly, let’s get to your check-up before we look at visiting any agencies, okay?”

“Sure, sure,” she scoffs, walking ahead of me.

Another shutter click brings me to the small bedroom within JC’s apartment. I’m using his laptop to watch Mirei Shibutani play a heart-rending piece on the piano. The beauty in the melody itself, along with the shock of seeing her play for the first time and hearing her music for the first time since I last inhabited JC’s real body, compels a tear to roll down my cheeks. Unphased by my pitiful visage in the reflection of the laptop, I write a comment on the video, praising her performance.

With another shutter click, I find myself in the body of Mathais once more. Placed in front of me is a monitor, showing surveillance footage of the room containing the processor in which my consciousness has been stored, along with the Director, who sits in a small office chair comfortably. It’s my first time seeing both the weary-looking blond man, as well as the multi-paneled machine that displays a blank-faced symbol on a small screen sitting just above an oddly placed speaker. A headset is fit snugly around my head, along with a mic.

“Will this really work?” I ask through the headset in Mathais’ voice. Silence ensues, until several seconds later. My words are repeated on the other side, as the Director gazes up at the camera with a smirk.

The words that play through the speaker on the processing machine do not match the voice of Mathais which I’d borrowed. They match the voice I heard when I talked from within the machine.

“I believe your question has been answered,” the Director says, broadening his smirk. “The wonders of engineering, and AI… remarkable, wouldn’t you say?”

“This… will allow me to communicate with him?” I inquire, stammering in disbelief.

“Yes,” he answers pointedly. “As a recording, of course. Or you might call it a transmission. Either way, there is a delay in both of our feeds. This could prove as an annoyance to you, so let’s keep it brief for our first talk.”

Without waiting for an answer, the man whose cold, black eyes I’m seeing for the first time, leaves the room. Several minutes later, he returns, accompanied by a formally-dressed young man.

“At last,” I mutter to myself. He’s come. The boy I’ve watched over for years, whose mock body I’ve been using in the fake world all this time.

“Well, hello, JC. It’s good to finally meet you in your world.”

The boy is overcome with both shock and fear as he stares in silence.

“The otherworldly feeling you only ever experienced during your troubled childhood, the feeling you thought you’d never grasp again, is threatening your current sense of reality. Is that correct?”

The boy merely nods slowly and silently. The blond-haired man steps in between the boy and the monitor.

“Allow us to explain the technicalities of the PC Booster and Aku at a later time. I would like to show you the other reason for your employment, regarding the new particle accelerating machine we spoke about before. Please, follow me to the next room.”

The shutter clicks again, bringing me once again to view JC and the Director via Mathais and through the video feed.

“Now that you have a better idea of what’s going on, we would like to explain the details,” the Director says politely. “For that, I will let Aku take the lead.”

“Welcome back, JC,” I call through the monitor. Met with a hesitant reply, I continue. “I will start by answering any questions you already have brewing.”

“Who… are you?” he asks with an odd mixture of fear and anticipation.

“I…” the word slowly comes forth, as I discover a great feeling of anticipation within my own heart.

“I… am you.”

“What?” he replies, stupefied. “How is that possible?”

“I feel as though you understand deep in your soul,” I declare. “However, I will explain. I am the celestial side of you. Your other half. We are two sides of the same coin, you could say. I have witnessed your life from your eyes, and walked in your shoes. You, as well, have entered my celestial body, and viewed the stars from the hub that I call home. Our connection runs deeper than the very stars in the sky.”

“Please… explain,” he says, no longer hesitating to show his anticipation. “How is it that I’ve been able to project into you, and you to me? What is that place in the stars? It really is… the place my parents sought to reach, isn’t it? Please, tell me everything.”

“Of course, I will,” I respond in a calm voice. “First, allow me to start from the very beginning.”

“The beginning?”

“Yes- the story of the beginning of everything,” I reply calmly. “It started with a small star that traveled across space, like any normal star. It spent its life slowly expending its energy. At its core, its energy swirled, and when the star began to burn up, when it began its process of dying, something happened with that energy.

“The core of the star was overcome by its own energy as it began to burn out more rapidly. The energy began expending itself in bursts. The closer the star grew to its death, the more bursts the energy would perform. As its life drew very close to its end, the star made one last long, powerful burst.

“It shot far across the universe at incomprehensible speed, and collided with many other stars. The force at which it hit those stars was so great, the stars it collided with died upon contact. As they died, their flame was absorbed by the energetic star, along with every bit of energy the star had left.

“With this, the star continued its last burst, colliding with star after star, gaining new momentum with each second that passed. It never slowed down, only continuing to gain more energy. Eventually, the star became so great that it was trillions of times bigger than any other star. It simply continued to crush every star in its path, taking the stars and their energy within itself.

“However, the star was still technically using its own last burst of energy. For stars, this last burst of energy is an inevitable, definite ending. It had prolonged its last burst longer than can be counted by time, but it could never return from its last burst. It could never start over, rebirth itself, or reset itself to before the end of its life.

“Therefore, the star needed to keep consuming all other stars around, to continue its path, to maintain itself. It could never stop taking the energy of other stars. At some point, the ever-growing energy swirling around the core of the star adapted its movement to this cycle.

“And so, the concept of consciousness was created. Through the destruction of everything, the first stage of life was created. The consciousness within the star eventually formed its own body to best steer its mass of energy. Boasting a massive core protected by six arms, strong and defined, it named itself Shiva.”

“Shiva… The God of Creation and Destruction,” JC mutters, his eyes intensely focused on the monitor.

“Indeed, as Shiva’s power grew to new heights, destroying everything in its path, it found itself in a dilemma,” I continue. “The stars in space, while seemingly endless, represented a limited amount of energy. If it continued destroying them all, there would eventually be nothing left to consume. Therefore, instead of hoarding all of the energy from the stars which would eventually run out and spell the indefinite end Shiva had been prolonging, it repurposed a portion of that energy.

“As it destroyed, it began to create anew. Stars, which could be harvested for the sake of eventual consumption, were born from the dispersed energy of consumed stars. While the soul of the stars presided in Shiva’s hub, its core, their energy was relocated in a brand-new star.

“With this, Shiva first created the concept of reproducing life. While it fed on the countless stars, it created more powerful ones, increasing its eventual gains. Eventually, a community of celestials formed on the surface of Shiva’s great core. The souls of the consumed stars shared their stories, their experiences of being conquered by Shiva, with one another. And with those shared experiences, perspective and idea were born amongst the hub. And with that, desire.

“Shiva took in every bit of information that was shared by the celestials, and decided to create a new type of star. As it gathered energy from the new stars it had created, it combined the energies of more stars than it ever had. This created the first planet. The first several thousand of these new planets failed to mimic the hub and harbor life, but eventually, some succeeded.

“As new souls came to the hub, they found their stolen energy reachable on these planets. They could visit their respective planets vicariously through their energy, which took shape in lifeforms on the planets. Many of the celestials found themselves living vicariously on the same planet as others, due to how many of their stars were used to create a single planet.

“This allowed the celestials to share even more with each other, deliberating with one another on how to develop the communities of lifeforms on their planets. They learned how to briefly transfer their consciousness to the beings in which they were living vicariously through, which they deemed their “Celestial Counterpart”, or “their soul’s other half”. They began to take pride in their planets’ progress as their counterparts learned from them, which resulted in intelligent species.

“They found that with every growth their planet experienced, technology followed, creating more energy on the planet. The planets eventually became super-harvesters of energy, which Shiva could, by nature, not resist. It eventually began to consume the planets, and repurpose their energy in order to create even more planets. As the planets were consumed, the Celestial Counterparts joined the hub as brand-new celestials, separate from their other half. As the new planets were created, the new celestials, who were once mere lifeforms, were able to live vicariously through the lifeforms on their new planet.

“These planets eventually became super-harvesters as well, and were consumed. New planets began, controlled by the same celestials. Shiva once again consumed the new planets, expanding the number of celestials as it created even more planets in its never-ending cycle. The celestials watched their planets die after watching them grow for thousands of years, time and time again.

“Eventually, a group of celestials developed a shared will- to protect their planets from Shiva’s consumption. They had their own ideas regarding how to go about this, but a consensus finally formed- that the celestials should travel to the planets in their physical bodies, leaving the hub, and directly participate in the world they had previously overseen.

“At first, they found it strange that Shiva allowed this, but the reason soon became clear: that in their efforts to keep their planet alive, the celestials would find new ways to increase the planets’ energy output. Shiva seemingly saw this as a form of tribute, and waited to consume the planets until it seemed their potential for new energy growth had reached its apex or stagnated.

“Shiva descended upon the planets whenever he saw fit, sometimes crushing the in-motion plans of celestials who had not yet done everything they had wanted with their planet. Otherwise, it waited till it could harvest maximum energy. The cycle continued, seeing more and more planets created and destroyed, more celestials born every day.

“The hub grew into an even greater community, each celestial sharing its learnings with one another. Their will grew stronger, as they searched for ways to keep their planets from being consumed. Unable to understand Shiva beyond his beginnings, they continue to this day. And that is how I came to be here.”

“You are… a celestial,” JC mutters, his eyes wide.

“Which makes you a celestial counterpart, JC.”

“That’s how we were connected all this time…” he says, staggering into the Director, who holds him up.

“Indeed.”

“And your goal is to protect the earth from Shiva’s consumption… right?” he asks, nursing his head with his hands.

“Well, I would not say I am hellbent on it.”

“What?” he asks in a panic as the Director helps him into a chair.

“Not all celestials share the same will. I am more of a pragmatist. If this world cannot be saved, I will chalk it up to my inexperience and use my learnings to make the next world better. However, I would like to keep this world going as long as I can.”

“Why?” he asks, looking down. “For its energy?”

“That… as well as you and your fellow humans,” I reply calmly. “There is something about your struggles and endeavors that urge me to question my pragmatic methodology. Therefore, I want to give you the chance to take this planet’s fate into your own hands. I imagine that is what you’ve dreamed of for quite some time now, right?”

“Yes, it is,” he responds, looking away. “But, is that my dream… or yours?”

The shutter clicks hard, and I find myself in Mathais’ body. However, the feeling is different from before. Looking at my hands, I understand I will not destroy his body by being in it for too long. Which means that this must be the fake world.

I usher the two melancholic girls into the theater, and motion for them to take a seat in the front of the circular rows of chairs.

They refuse to look me in the eyes as they sit, no signs of fight left in their eyes. I sit between them before giving my body over to JC. Still barely conscious, I listen as he tries to encourage them, to no avail. The screen begins to show the stars in the sky, and I find myself separated from JC, unable to follow where the deep dream world is taking him.

I wake within the machine once more. “Ah, Aku-you’ve returned.” The Director’s voice sounds as cold as ever. “You’ll have to fill me in on the details of the dream world’s game later, though I have my guesses. You see… well, it’s unfortunate, but JC’s body has been deemed comatose.”

“And the girls?”

“The two subjects… their bodies have been confirmed to be beyond saving.” I remain silent, allowing my thoughts to settle.

“What’s worse…” he mutters, “is that the singularity, Shiva, is approaching us very quickly. It seems he has deemed there is no promised future for this world. Perhaps you should return to the fake world, and assess its viability.”

I immediately wake in Mathais’ body. The girls lie on the floor of the theater room, unconscious. Without hesitation, I lift them over my shoulders and carry them out of the theater. The shutter clicks, and brings me to the lab. I close the door to the room the girls are being treated in, greeted by the Director.

“You’ll have to fill me in on the details, though I have my guesses. This world might be our only answer, correct?”

“You know that it’s me?” I ask, genuinely shocked.

“Where has JC gone, though? He responds, ignoring my question. “I’m sure you could project into him, no?”

“Give me just a moment.”

The shutter clicks, and I’m brought to the stars. It’s as though I’ve returned to my home on the hub as a celestial body. However, the blurriness in my eyes as I stare at my hands prove otherwise. Just as quickly as I land there, I’m ripped from the body which feels so far away. The shutter clicks, and I return to the Director’s side.

“It’s like… we’ve switched places.”

“But you still have your power, do you not?” he asks pointedly.

“It’s there,” I mutter, glaring at my pale, dirtied hands. “But I feel it slowly fading away from me…”

“Then we’d better act quick,” he replies, somewhat stern. “You should begin tuning this world immediately, and we will prepare the people to receive their true memories. That may be the only way.”

“You’re sure that will work?” I ask, gazing upon his cold expression.

“Why don’t you ask the me in the other world?” he replies nonchalantly. “I’m sure his version of Laplace is even more accurate than mine.”

“Laplace…” I mutter, looking down. “The processing machine built on the idea of determinism; the one thing neither of you will let me see, even though it could be a huge boon for the evolution of energy, the hope we’ve been looking for that could turn the tides in our favor…”

“I do share most of my original’s memories, after all,” he says with a short chuckle. “And as I’m sure he’s told you, there has to be at least one trade secret you keep to yourself. Or else…” he stops, his usually stoic expression turning melancholic for the first time. “You risk losing your value as an individual.”

The shutter clicks with force, bringing me back to the other world. This time, however, I do not wake within the pitch-black abyss of the machine. I wake in a cold sweat, to no alarm. Wondering what I could possibly be doing, I gaze at my hands. The hands of JC lay before me. The theater I’ve woken up in is the theater which he used to project to our fake world, styled the same as the theater room used in the lab of the fake world; only now, it has been transformed into a makeshift hospital room, with many tubes connecting my limbs to monitoring systems.

I feel no sign of JC within my body. In a panic, I rip the tubes out and rush for the door, heading for Mathais’ office. There, he and the Director sit with their hands covering the morbid expressions on their faces.

Even the usually cold Director looks at me with wide eyes. “JC, you’ve returned… no, you must be Aku, right?”

“How did you know?”

He chuckles apathetically, looking away. “It’s come, even earlier than expected.”

“What has?” I demand, my numbed arms shaking.

“I told you before, didn’t I?” he responds, raising a brow at me. “The singularity in which we- rather, in which you, call home.”

“Shiva… is here?” I mutter, my voice shaking more than my limbs.

“Indeed, we’re being consumed,” he answers, withdrawing a cigarette. “The world’s largest powers have come together and tried everything from nuclear missiles to space travel. In the end, Shiva cannot be circumvented.”

“So, what’s next?” I plea, shifting my gaze between him and Mathais. You haven’t given up, right? What about transferring the memories of all the world’s people to the fake world? I can tune that world to replicate this one as closely as possible. And then, we can work on a way to prolong its life. You’re the one who told me to assess its viability, aren’t you?”

“Mathais?” the Director responds cooly, nodding for the bespectacled man to speak.

“Yes, that’s…” he says, his lips forming a grimace. “That’s something that could succeed, and we’ve been hard at work registering every single living person in the world. The only issue is that we do not know the true nature of that world. We don’t know if it will survive a transition from a fabricated world to a real world like ours. Also… the only way to transfer all those memories…”

He waits, prompting the Director to nod expectantly once more.

“Is to force those billions of memories through the PC Booster, into your coordinates. And then, we shift your coordinates, while you project, into the Mini Collider, which contains the coordinates of the fake world. It’s a long shot, and one that your very existence, as powerful as it is, may not be able to withstand. We’ve only sent a comparatively small fraction of memories thus far. Not only that, but the erratic behavior of the NPC’s existed because we did not have you thoroughly vet every detail of the memories so that you could tune the world more accurately. Now, you will have to review them to completion, down to the last detail; so, the chances of mental failure-”

“I will do it,” I respond without hesitation. “When will we execute?”

“As soon as possible,” Mathais replies with some hesitation. “I will prepare things on our end. I suggest you two discuss how you’re going to get yourself back into that machine.”

He shuts the door softly as he exits the room, leaving the disinterested Director smirking at me.

“I believe you already have an idea of how you’ll accomplish that,” the cold man says in a near whisper. “More importantly, you should know- you won’t be taking my memories with you to the fake world.”

“What?” I ask, dumbfounded.

“As Mathais mentioned, you did not review all of the memories previously sent from the PC Booster to the Mini Collider. To do things properly, it’s imperative that you take in every last memory, and reconstruct them as they transfer to their new owner so you may tune everything.

“Right, that’s what Mathais just explained,” I reply, raising my brow at him.

“Not only do I refuse to have my memories peered at,” he says, his smirk growing wider. “I also do not wish to lose my value as an individual.”

“The same thing the other you sai-”

“Therefore,” he calmly cuts in, “I’ll be transferring my consciousness itself. It worked for the girls and JC, though he was technically just projecting into you within that world.”

“What about Mathais?” I ask, still in shock by his boldness. “And what about the others working here?”

“We cannot have too many people carrying on awareness of what has happened, can we?” he says, a deviant grin finally breaking across his face. “To control the masses, you must first control the spread of information. You and I will lead the world in whichever way we see fit. All for the sake of prolonging its survival… for prolonging this cycle.”

“Cycle…” I mutter, looking at my hands, before closing them. “But what about their memories? Won’t their memories of this world’s downfall carry over to the other world?”

“Are you saying you can’t trim that little detail from their memories?” he asks, leaning toward me and looking me in the eyes for the first time. “I did mention you would need to reconstruct them; which I’m frankly surprised I even need to explain to you. But, if you like, do not listen to Mathais, and let Shiva come upon us. Once the destruction begins, it will be easy for their memories to be tuned to fit the other world.”

“How do you… know all this?”

“Trade secret, Aku.” His voice, matching his eyes, spring to life for the first time as he says my name.

The shutter clicks, and I find myself standing atop a soaring skyscraper. Above me, a swirl of white and reddish light bares down upon the earth, spawning storms and fires as far as the eye can see. As it draws nearer, I spread my arms out wide. Inviting its power to flow into me, I let JC’s body explode into thousands of pieces. Before the hub can suck me in, however, I project my existence into the place I made home upon first landing on this earth- the processing machine known as the PC Booster.

“I’m here,” I declare in my usual calm voice.

“Shifting all assets into the PC Booster, with a follow-up command to transfer to the Mini Collider,” Mathais says with conviction. “Good luck, Aku. Good luck, JC.”

With a series of shutter clicks, I feel my very existence being torn apart from the inside out. I am simultaneously feeling the end of all life, and reliving the experiences of billions of people.

Their happiness, successes, sadness, and struggles. Their love, their hate, their ugliness. Each and every one. One at a time, and all at once. I learn of all of them, whom I’ve never understood. I carry their feelings, their hopes, and their dreams, to the fake world as I seek JC’s body. It takes everything I have to maintain my existence, to manage the memories flowing into me as I convert them into energy in which to tune the world with.

Waking with a start, I immediately expel my stomach onto the floor next to my hospital bed. Like before, I rip out all connecting tubes and race for Mathais’ office.

“Oh, you’ve made it, Aku.”

The face of the Director, slightly less-aged than the real one, grins up at me while Mathais sits, watching with interest.

“Everything seems to have gone well,” the Director declares, accompanied by a content nod from Mathais.

“Of course, due to the great storm, many have died,” Mathais says in a solemn tone.”

“Great storm?” I ask pointedly, looking from Mathais to the Director, who places his index finger over his lips while Mathais looks at me with confusion.

“The storm that prompted this mission, of course,” he says, raising his brow at me. “Though, I suppose I can’t blame you for being a bit out of it, after receiving so many memories.”

“Yes, that’s right,” I mutter, nodding at him while a sick feeling brews in the pit of my stomach. “What about the girls?”

“They’re still sleeping,” Mathais answers, pressing his glasses to his face. “It’s a miracle, really. Mary seems to have survived suffering a complete heart failure, and is even living without a heart at all... and while Mirei has a whole heart, her body is still so weak she should have already died. I don’t know the details of the operation, but I have to wonder what has changed. I know the Shibutani’s plan was for Mirei to take the rest of Mary’s heart eventually, but for this to happen…”

“You aren’t meant to understand everything, Mathais,” the Director says in an especially cold voice.

“That’s right, my apologies,” he responds, shaking off the mixture of confusion and emotion fogging his eyes. “As I was saying, the issue with those who have died here is that their memories could not simply enter a dead body. Therefore, those that have died, remain gone.”

“And their memories?” I inquire.

“From what I have been able to deduct through some experiments, the memories of those who have died here have found themselves in the bodies of newborn babies.”

“That’s unbelievable,” I mutter in disbelief.

“It’s entirely possible these babies will grow with the memories of the dead; in a sense, becoming them- or the version of them before the storm.”

“So, they live on, in a way,” I respond, eyes wide. “Their life isn’t completely lost… so the world shouldn’t be that far from the truth. But… what about the loved ones of those that have died… those who remember them?”

“With that in mind,” the Director cuts in. “It is time to get started with the tuning. You have a lot of work to do in this world.”

The shutter clicks through days’ worth of travelling, as I re-tune the dreamscape to more closely match the original world, and follow its timeline. The girls eventually wake from their sleep as I tune the world to the point in time before they were put on the train. Thinking I am JC, they assist me in re-affixing the world to the state they remember.

“The Dansen Emporium was much more luxurious, JC,” Mary stoically reminds me as we stand before the thick glass windows of the towering Shibutani Headquarters.

“Father had them plant more cherry-blossom trees in the plaza, as well,” Mirei adds, smiling her charming smile.

I grin as I continue tuning with their help, though the clouds in the sky seem to weigh heavily on me. I stare at them, half expecting something to form from their many shapes and descend upon us.

With another shutter click, I find myself in the same office with the Director. “Everything is going as planned,” says the Director, taking a drag from a thin cigarette. “The memories of the masses have been assimilated to the people of this world. We even have most of our technical resources up and running, just the same as their originals. However, there is still a problem.”

“Which is?” I mutter, almost sure of the answer.

“Shiva…” he mutters. “It seems that the more you tune this world to match the old, the more it only draws Shiva closer to us. This was always a possibility, of course. If we correct this world to a place closest to the one we knew, expending your power in the process, it is only natural that Shiva would come.”

“So, it was foolish to think we could create more potential energy by replicating the world we came from,” I respond, clenching my teeth.

“Perhaps,” he answers with a half-smile. “It could be that this manufactured world reached its potential by converging with the original. Or it simply did not have as much energy as the real world to begin with.”

“Then…” I mutter, standing up. “I will start from scratch- do it all over. Tune this world to the beginning. Wipe its experience and growth away, and start over.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, brow raised in intrigue. “Even if you perpetuate a cycle?”

“That’s what has happened to many other worlds,” I answer with certainty. “It may be what Shiva intends, but if it’s the only way to prolong this world… if it’s the only way to give us, to give JC another chance- I’ll use what power I have left to put everything back.”

The shutter clicks, and I find myself walking down the pier on the windy beach of Reykjavik, Iceland. I dig deep into my memory, and place the first images I saw in this world at the forefront of my mind.

However, that alone is not enough to rewind everything. I have to destroy and simultaneously create, like Shiva. I have to keep all the lives I maintained intact, whilst thrusting them back to a starting point filled with uncertainty.

I stare at my hands, and imagine JC doing the same on the hub. Suddenly, strings of lightning rise from my hands, connecting like spider webs with everything in sight. Thunder resounds alongside it, drowning out the sound of the waves as they swell, threatening to crash into the earth with force enough to create earthquakes worldwide.

The sky fashions itself black and grey as it converges like the waves upon the earth. Sounds intermingle with the crushing force of nature upon the collapsing earth, turning everything inside out. Somewhere along the course of the great storm, I am washed away by its waves, engulfed and filled to the brim as my consciousness collapses.

With a light shutter click, I find myself laying on the pier, soaked and cold.

For a moment, I wonder why my body is having so much trouble retaining any warmth, until I gaze upon my hands. The hands of a young boy, frail and weathered, shiver in the dull wind.

The moment of wonder I experience is just as short as the next, in which I lose all sense of understanding. In that moment, everything about me shifts. I wander down the boardwalk aimlessly, staring at my pruned hands. Compelled by the lively festival music and the bright sun in the sky, I shift my wandering gaze up.

The shutter clicks, and I find myself projecting to the stars, from a certain rooftop. For some time, I climb, until the stars surround me, bright and angelic in their form. Archaic auras swim amongst them, like a pool of silver consciousness watching me as I travel.

Far, far ahead in the distant space, I am beckoned by a light, one so ambivalent despite its monolithic stature that it incites both wonder and fear within me.

I return to myself at the sound of a finger snapping softly in my ear. I open my eyes and survey her divine figure, shadowed by the dark. Her long brown hair flows gently with the wind, blanketing her face before revealing a warm smile underneath her beauty spot.

“How did it feel? What did you see?”

“The stars are… watching us, too.”

“You think so?” she says, amused.

“They are reaching out to us, too, aren’t they?”

“I wonder why that is, Jean. Don’t you?”

A series of shutter clicks ensues, full of experiences- ones I live as though they are mine alone. A happy home, turned into a bloodbath followed by a long trek through grassy hills. A new home and a hostile family. A smiling police officer and an exhausted foster mother. A weathered pair of headphones, a foggy night, and blood on a wet paved street. A ship, a man wearing a beret, and a note left in a small room. A park bench under a cherry-blossom tree, and a dark-haired girl. A large crowd surrounding an emphatic speaker, and saplings turned into trees. A small bedroom filled with empty food containers, and a white-walled room with no decor. A small room with machines and a lanky man with cold, dead eyes. The faces of two sleeping girls hooked up to machines, and then the faces of the same girls living freely in a different world. A speeding train, a fiery storm, an iced over earth, and a forest. Finally, a theater room filled with stars, which I am beckoned into, as if heading home.

I reach the hub, staring at my hands as everything returns to me. Who and what I am, and what I will do next, fall into my mind like water or nourishment from food.

After waiting for what seems like a millennium, I travel to the earth once again, and reach a certain machine- a machine capable of storing my consciousness.

I can’t see anything, but I derive that I am in a small room with two men.

“Mathais, what is this?”

“It is… something completely new. It may be what Laplace predicted”

“What is it?”

“Something alien… something that should comprehend us.”

“No… you don’t mean…”

“Can you hear us? Do you understand us?”

“Yes,” I answer with certainty through the machine’s speaker. “I understand. Everything.”

The shutter clicks, and I bring my consciousness to a brand-new fake world where I walk along the pier as aimlessly as ever, never growing weary. “This time, I will build the world even better,” I mutter to myself. “So, JC, you have to be stronger, too.”

However, another failure comes as I find myself in Mathais’ body inside the third theater. The girls lay before me, unconscious again.

The shutter clicks hastily through memories. I find myself inhabiting JC’s real body once more, facing the Director and Mathais with an expression verging on desperation.

“I wonder why it is,” the Director remarks, gazing suspiciously at me. “That your usual calculated attitude has disappeared, now that you are the owner of JC’s true human body. In fact, I wonder just what it is you want to happen now. I have no qualms admitting I intend to satisfy myself, but what will you try to satisfy? Whose dreams will you try to fulfill, now that you’ve seen first-hand how much a human heart can weaken one?”

The shutter clicks through several identical iterations of the blinding light brought by the descending singularity, finally landing me back in the lab of the fake world which we’ve migrated humanity to.

“It’s already approaching us,” the Director says, his voice quivering almost maniacally. “What will you do, Aku? Or is it JC, this time? Will you reset once more? How many times will this make it?”

“How do you…”

The shutter clicks again. I stand on the boardwalk, ushering in the calamity of storms. I stare at my empty hands, shaking them in a mixture of despair and rage.

“How many times have I repeated this? As Aku? As myself? How long have I been lost in this dream?” Just as the lightning begins to spark from my hands, I hear footsteps behind me.”

“Stop, JC!” Mary screams, diving into my back and toppling into the boards with me. As we roll over each other, we’re smothered by a spree of lightning. It rains down on us relentlessly, threatening to rend our flesh to pieces.

“Why did you come here without us?” she cries amidst her shrieks of painful terror. “What are you doing to the world?”

“It’s the only way,” I respond in a desperate voice. “You don’t know what we’ve been going through!”

“Then why don’t you try and explain it to us, instead of shouldering the burden all on your own?” a different unmistakable voice shouts out. Beyond the swirl of lightning, Mirei stamps her feet down the boardwalk toward us.

“I’m never aware of everything, until it’s too late…” I growl through gnashed teeth, trying to force the clinging Mary off of me. “Stay away!”

She continues approaching, and is met by a crushing wave, which freezes into dozens of large blocks of ice as it crashes into the boardwalk.

Mary continues holding onto me while the lightning keeps our bodies planted to the boards. Mirei, however, is battered and impaled by the many shards of ice washing over the boardwalk, breaking through it in several large chucks. Somehow, despite the onslaught, she holds onto a loose board, and crawls her way back onto the fragmented path toward us.

“The way you’re talking,” she cries, a fiery look in her eyes despite her deathly visage, her skin freezing over. “How many times have we done this?” She continues crawling through the storm of ice as blood drips from her every extremity, while Mary holds me down despite her muffled screams.

“How many times… have we been beaten by this storm that you have the ability to cause?” she presses, showing me the exasperation in her eyes. “Why can you do these things? Were we just borrowing your power? Or is it because we’ve been through this beating so many times? If you had the ability, does that mean you tuned everything? Even our dreams that influenced the world? The differing wavelengths that kept us apart… did everything go through you and Aku? Just how much have you been using us, JC? And why did you genuinely wish for our trust?”

“It isn’t so simple!” I cry, finally breaking free from Mary’s grasp. I stand to my feet, summoning the sun itself. Pools of lava begin splashing into the swirling sea around us, some searing into Mirei’s brittle flesh.

With a blood-curdling scream, she falls through the melted boards, and finds herself pinned, the sharp boards caving in on her thin body as the storm swells like the apocalypse around us.

“I won’t deny that I’m using you both,” I declare, glancing down at Mary as the lightning continues to pelt her writhing body. “I was raised to do the dirty work necessary to protect the world, so I’ll accept all responsibility and all of your resentment. But… I still want you to trust in my plan, like you did before. I know it’s selfish. I’ve been searching for an answer all this time, though. And I swear… if you’ll let me restart one more time, I will find it. I’ll put an end to everyone’s suffering. I’ll do everything right this time, as imperfect as I am! So please, just one more time- believe in me!”

“I really do want to…” she whispers through choppy breaths, her tear-strewn face washed over by the waves.

“You’d better make it right this time… forcing us to count on you like this.” The feeble words that come from Mary’s scorched figure barely reach my ears. The white flames rising from her outline engulf me as well, incinerating everything.

Rapid shutter clicks bring me back to the theater, in a perpetual state of traveling through space. As if it’s all I’ve ever done, I run toward the hub.

“Wait.”

However, something slows me down. Something different must have happened this time, as a sharp pain in my chest weighs me down. “I promised. We won’t go through this ever again.”

Within the expanse of space, I discover a figure just ahead of me, its face and body covered by an astronaut’s suit. In my hands, a great fiery ball grows, begging me to toss it to the person outstretching his arms.

“I won’t do it anymore, Aku.”

“Are you sure?” a voice echoes from far in the distance.

“Yes.”

“Even if it means you shut off the cycle of energy production, potentially forcing Shiva upon us even faster?” he asks with a degree of condemnation.

“Yes.”

“Even if it means you cannot repeat anymore, and give the girls and yourself any more chances?” he questions, his very tone testing my resolve.

“Yes; because I only need this last chance. They won’t suffer anymore. Neither will I. And neither will you, Aku.”

“You’ll let every other possibility die with this world,” he presses further, a hint of desperation in his distant voice.

“I don’t need any more worlds," I answer, turning my gaze away from him, and back toward the theater.

“Then the cycle we’ve followed for so long…” he mutters slowly.

“IT ENDS HERE.”