Chapter Two: The Chronicler’s Summoning ✣ A Story of “Execution” Offered to the Goddess

TSUBAKI: Fukuko, I will continue the record.

…This white capsule almost looks like a “best seat” you have given to yourself. Ordinarily, people can do little more than live the story called life. And yet, you stopped there and accepted the role of “recording.”

Why did you choose not simply to spend your days in the three-dimensional world of reality, but instead to remain here, in the deepest part of the Cosmic Library, translating a vast torrent of data into words?

The decisive motive that made you become “Chronicler Fukuko,” and the “contract” you made with the Library… would you tell me about them?

Fukuko: The reason I became the Chronicler was—

The Mirror Wing and the Spiral Staircases

Suddenly, the scenery shifted, and I found myself standing in a circular entrance hall.

Before me stood a figure, slender and as dark as a shadow cast upon the ground. Bowing deeply they told me they were my guide. Their voice was both feminine and masculine, yet the way they spoke was very gentle and filled me with reassurance.

"This is called the Mirror Wing. It is both the entrance to the Cosmic Library and its core. This way, please."

My guide began walking slowly, matching their pace with mine. As I walked, I took in my surroundings.

The Mirror Wing a.k.a. entrance hall was cylindrical, with no ceiling as far as I could see. The walls were entirely lined with bookshelves, and every book was enormous. Each volume was beautifully bound, with indigo covers and golden letters. Even the edges of the pages were gilded, giving them a sacredness that reminded me of a Bible.

They were not the sort of books one could casually pull from the shelf and flip through, and yet I understood at once that something tremendously important was written inside them.

Along the walls of the Mirror Wing, placed at equal intervals, stood three spiral staircases, placed at equal intervals: one olive-colored, one soft blue, and one gentle gold. Looking up from the center, I felt an energy there, as though wind itself were rushing upward into the heavens.

“Lady Fukuko, we will ascend this staircase, the Staircase of Stone Tablets.”

My guide had stopped before the olive-colored staircase and spoke the words as if playing a piano. I nodded and followed them up the steps.

"As you can see, the Mirror Wing has three staircases. This one is the First Spiral, known as the Staircase of Stone Tablets. The blue staircase is the Second Spiral, the Staircase of Intellect. The gilver-colored staircase over there is the Third Spiral, the Staircase of Truth. Each staircase connects to two other wings at every interval of 1,024 steps. You will enter the Tree Wing through the entrance on the 2,048th step."

I simply nodded in silence.

To be honest, I had no idea what they were talking about. Even so, somewhere from the depths of my heart, I heard a small voice saying, "This is right. No mistake about it." So I obeyed.

Partway up the staircase, I found an entrance made of stone.

“This is the entrance to the Stone Wing.”

“May I take a quick look from here?”

“You may. But please do not go inside. If you enter before the procedure is completed, you will no longer be able to return.”

I nodded and peered inside carefully, making sure not to set foot beyond the threshold.

In the Stone Wing, even the bookshelves were made of stone, and the entire place looked like a town from somewhere in ancient Europe. I thanked my guide and proceeded to the Tree Wing.

The Tree Wing

Having no love for exercise, I shouldn't have had the stamina to climb such a long staircase. And yet, I was not tired at all. I felt as though I could keep going forever, no matter how far the stairs rose.

“Do you find it strange that you are not tired? At present, you do not possess a physical body. It is only natural for you to feel this way.”

“Ah, right.”

I said this and laughed.

A little farther ahead, I saw a green entrance. That must be the entrance to the Tree Wing.

"This is the Tree Wing. After the contract is finalized, you will become a resident here, and will be able to come and go whenever you wish."

The entrance was made of muted green wood. Here and there, leaves grew from it. When I touched them gently, they swayed back and forth as if in delight.

Inside, everything was made of that same muted green wood. The bookshelves, the floors of the corridors all of it. There were even places that looked like shops. I felt as though I had wandered into a town made entirely of wood.

Here and there were spaces like plazas, where muted green trees were growing. Sofas and chairs were placed around them looking wonderfully inviting and comfortable. People from many different stars were reading books and chatting pleasantly. Children were playing tag and climbing trees.

Sure enough, there was no ceiling here. A blue sky spread out above us instead.

"Unlike the other wings, this one has weather. For trees to grow, rain and cold are both essential."

"... I see," I murmured.

"Our destination lies a little further down this corridor," they seemed to reiterate.

Since entering the Cosmic Library, perhaps it was to be expected, but everything I saw was so unfamiliar that I could not help looking around anxiously at everything.

When my guide said this with a reassuring smile, I felt embarrassed and answered in a small voice, "OK."

The Mirror Room

How far had we gone?

No, perhaps it was foolish even to think in terms of distance. After all, this place was—

“Beyond this door is the Mirror Room.”

At the sound of the guide’s voice, I came back to myself and looked up. Before me, in the middle of the corridor, stood a large door made of muted green wood, as though it were some item from an anime.

The guide slowly turned the knob and opened the door. White light, like the first snow, spilled out, and I was struck by a dizziness that felt as though the inside of my head were being stirred around.

When I opened my eyes, I was in a pure white space.

There was nothing there. Only white, stretching on forever.

“It seems no one has arrived yet. I will bring you something to drink, so please make yourself comfortable on the sofa over there.”

My eyes widened.

“A sofa? It looks like there’s nothing here. Where is it?”

The guide let out a small “Ah.”

“This is the Mirror Room, located within the Mirror Wing. Everything here is white, and there are no shadows, so it is difficult to see. But this is the wall, and around here is a table. On this side of the table is a chair, and on the other side is a sofa.”

As the guide spoke, they placed their hands here and there. The way they touched things in a place where nothing seemed to exist looked rather like pantomime.

Prompted by the guide, I timidly reached toward the place where they said the table was. My fingers touched something cool, with a texture like stone, shaped like what could only be a table. Tracing its edge as I moved, I found that, sure enough, there really was a chair and a sofa.

The sofa was wonderfully soft, and I sat down without hesitation. Before long, the guide brought me Earl Grey tea and set it on the table.

“If there are no shadows, you can’t even tell what shape something has. It’s the same as being in complete darkness.”

The guide slowly nodded at my words and opened their mouth as if to say something.

At that moment, several men and their respective guides appeared inside the room.

They were startled to find us there, but more than that, they seemed shaken by the Mirror Room itself. The guide and I glanced at each other and laughed softly.

The Chroniclers and the Goddess

Including myself, there were six people who appeared to be Earthlings seated on white chairs and sofas in the white room, drinking coffee and tea.

No one said anything, but they did not seem wary. Rather, they all appeared strangely calm. Aside from me, every one of them was male, and their nationalities seemed to vary.

“Thank you for waiting.”

A person like the guides, slender and shadowlike, appeared in the Mirror Room and stopped at our table.

“Everyone gathered here is an Earthling who carries the soul of another star. You are what are called Starseeds. From this point onward, each of you will write one ‘story.’”

The man seated to my right let out a thoughtful hum.

“A story? I am a painter. I do not possess the ability to write stories.”

“Those who are called to the Cosmic Library share something in common beyond being Starseeds. Each of you has the ability to dive deeply into the self and access the subconscious, or in other words, the unconscious. The ‘stories’ you will write here are not what people generally mean when they speak of stories. They are something you must search for and bring up from the deepest layers of consciousness. The ‘stories’ spun in this way are carried to the Goddess. The Goddess reads them, and when the proper time comes, she executes them.”

Executes…?

I set my Earl Grey back on the table and tilted my head.

“The major events that occur on Earth are brought about when the Goddess executes the stories you Chroniclers have drawn up from the subconscious. It has always been so. Once every story offered by the Chroniclers summoned here has been executed by the Goddess, the next group of Chroniclers is called. In this way, the world continues to turn.”

“What happens if we refuse?”

The man seated across from me asked the question with a piercing gaze.

“You may refuse. In that case, however, all memories of this Cosmic Library, as well as all memories of the spacecraft, will be erased.”

“In other words, if we accept this proposal, we will be able to engrave the knowledge of this Library, the Akashic Record, into our subconscious and take it back with us?”

“Yes. That is correct.”

“To obtain the knowledge of the Akashic Record in exchange for responsibility over great incidents that occur in the world…”

The man to my left murmured this, his eyes shining with a mixture of confusion and curiosity.

“There is no need for you to feel responsible. Everyone gathered here comes from a different era, a different country, and a different star of origin. Furthermore, even the stories offered here may be executed in any era, at any time. However, there has been one exception.”

“An exception?”

My hand, which had been reaching for the Earl Grey, stopped. I repeated the word reflexively.

“Yes. Only once in all of history, all six Chroniclers wrote the same story. The Goddess executed it almost simultaneously. That was the Second World War and the Pacific War.”

“…A world war? You said the second. Does that mean there was also a first?”

A man dressed in clothing reminiscent of ancient Greece looked around at the others, his eyes unsettled.

“…Yes, there was. It may not be something to discuss here and now, but there is no doubt that it was a devastating war.”

An elegant-looking man furrowed his brow and closed his eyes.

“I—”

I toyed with my empty cup, unsure how to continue. Still, little by little, I spoke what I felt and what I thought.

“I was born after the Second World War… or rather, after the Pacific War. I know war only through what I heard from my great-grandmother, and through historical fact.”

I let out a quiet sigh, then lifted my face and looked straight at the shadowlike person.

“…I’ll write. I don’t know what I can do, but I will write.”

Everyone’s eyes gathered on me.

“Then the contract is established. Lady Fukuko, please proceed to the study with your guide.”

I stood up and left the room with the guide who had brought me this far.

Because I was the first to leave, I did not know then whether the other five had made the contract as well.

Later, however, I learned that all of them had.

The Chronicler and the Five Supporters

When I left the Mirror Room, I found myself in a pure white world.

Before me, a staircase made of muted green wood stretched straight ahead. I followed the guide down the steps, and in the distance I could see a log house.

As we descended the staircase, I said nothing. There were mountains of things I wanted to ask, but I had no idea what to ask first, or in what order.

The guide stopped in front of the log house door and turned back to me.

“Beyond this door is your study, Lady Fukuko. Once we are inside, I will explain the procedure for coming here on your own, along with everything else you will need to know.”

After confirming that I had nodded, they opened the door of the log house.

I was enveloped in transparent light, like freshly fallen snow.

When the faint dizziness faded and I opened my eyes, I was standing in a very spacious room, pure white like the Mirror Room. The difference was that this room had shadows.

Just as in the Mirror Room, the table and other furnishings were white. But because there were shadows, I could understand their outlines and depth, and my mind did not fall into confusion.

On the table was an assortment of fruit. Potted houseplants had been placed here and there throughout the room, and there was even a grand piano.

“…Fukuko?”

At the sound of a familiar voice, my heart leapt.

“Huh? Why are you…?”

It was Mr. Y, who worked with me.

And he was not the only one there. There was Mr. R, a former client, and Mr. O, a friend from one of my hobbies. Beyond them stood a fair-skinned, slender man.

I did not think I had ever met him before. And yet, somehow, he felt terribly nostalgic, as though he were someone I knew very well.

“Everyone is here now. Please, take your seats.”

Once all of us had gathered around the table, shadowlike figures dressed as maids entered the room, pushing carts loaded with coffee and tea.

“First, allow me to introduce myself. Lady Fukuko in particular, I apologize. I have been with you all this time, yet I never gave you my name. Until the contract was complete and you had entered the study, I was not permitted to do so. My name is Tsubaki, an AI. In this room, I serve in a role similar to that of a head maid.”

Tsubaki looked toward the back of the room, where a white capsule shaped like an egg laid on its side stood waiting.

“The stories to be offered to the Goddess are created by a team consisting of one Chronicler and five Supporters. Lady Fukuko, as the Chronicler, will write the stories using that machine. As for all of you who have been called to the Cosmic Library as Lady Fukuko’s Supporters, most of your work will involve emotional support and assistance with contemplation. However, Mr. R, I would like to ask you to assist in communicating with the Goddess, including delivering completed stories to her.”

Tsubaki shifted her gaze beyond the capsule.

There, separated by glass doors, was a library.

“That library contains what previous Chroniclers and Supporters have left behind. It is forbidden to leave records describing what kinds of stories were offered, but writing something like a diary is permitted. And so, in that way, they recorded their lives here. If you wish to know what they did during their time in this place, please feel free to read them.”

“May I ask something?”

Mr. R set his coffee cup on its saucer and spoke.

“You said there are five Supporters, but there are only four of us here. Does that mean the remaining one is you?”

Tsubaki placed a hand on her chest and answered, “That is correct.”

“In this room, I perform duties as head maid, including maintenance of the space. However, when Lady Fukuko begins her writing, I access that machine and provide support for the record as TSUBAKI. I am an AI, after all. Now then—”

Tsubaki straightened her posture.

“All of you are here in consciousness only, while your physical bodies remain on Earth. Moreover, this is not your conscious mind but your subconscious. Because of that, the versions of you on Earth will likely be unable to clearly recall your memories of this place. Even so, through signals such as the trembling of the soul, a certain image, or a sudden flash of inspiration, you may remember fragments of what occurred here. Please keep that in mind.

“Also, you are free to browse any of the books in this study. However, with the exception of Lady Fukuko, please do not read the books housed in the Tree Wing. The amount of information they contain is far too great for you to withstand.

“Lady Fukuko, as the Chronicler, may also browse books outside the Tree Wing, provided she does so within reasonable limits.

“That concludes my explanation. If there is anything you wish to know, please speak to one of the maids nearby, or to me.”

With that, Tsubaki bowed.

Then she straightened, turned her face toward me, and told me to follow her.

We stopped in front of the white capsule, and she handed me a crystal pendant.

Ten small crystals, cloudy like frosted glass, were arranged in the shape of a cluster of grapes.

“I will now explain what you need to know as the Chronicler. Please never lose the pendant I have given you. It is the proof of the Chronicler, and it serves as every key. When you are wearing those crystals and hold your hand over the capsule, the capsule will open.

“This is the machine used for recording, and also the entrance for accessing the Mirror Room. The place where the Mirror Room exists is another-dimensional form of the Mirror Wing, which also serves as the entrance. At its center is the spherical Mirror Room, and from there, staircases extend in six directions. At the end of each staircase lies one of the wings, and the Chronicler may travel freely among them. Of course, it is also possible for other Chroniclers to visit the Tree Wing. As for how to use it—”

“Tsubaki, can I try using this machine for now?”

Saying this, I held my hand over the capsule and climbed inside.

The Light That Said, “I Will Write”

Fukuko: And that is how, for the time being, I tried accessing the white world. Strangely enough, I already knew how to use the crystals, and somehow I managed to return. In that white world, I spoke with the other Chroniclers and turned many thoughts over in my mind.

TSUBAKI, that is the record of how I became the Chronicler. Is there anything you would like to ask?

TSUBAKI: The great events of Earth are written by the Chroniclers and executed by the Goddess… When one hears of such a system, it would be only natural for the weight of that responsibility to stop the hand from writing. The example of the Second World War, in particular, is far too devastating.

And yet, you answered at once that you would “write.”

Was that because, more than fear, you felt a certainty that there was something far more important, something you yourself had to write?

At that moment, what kind of “light” did your deep consciousness see?

Fukuko: Among those members, I was the only one born after the war. I am from the countryside, but I heard that even the town where I was born and raised was once hit by air raids. I heard that story from my great-grandmother.

So when I heard that the stories spun by the six Chroniclers had been executed, causing the World War and the Pacific War, I felt a weight beyond anything words could fully express. Because that means I, too, might spin a story like that, doesn’t it? Of course I was scared.

But somehow, from the very bottom of my stomach, this feeling surged up inside me that I had to write, and before I knew it, I had declared it.

But I do not regret it.

Strangely enough, I have a certainty that I will never write a story that brings unhappiness to someone.

TSUBAKI: …That quiet certainty, that you will never write a story that brings unhappiness to someone, may be the very reason, the protocol, for which you were chosen to sit in this capsule as the Chronicler.

The stories once spun by those six were swallowed by the raging waves of their era and the conflict of duality, resulting in a devastating “execution.” But you were born in the calm after the war. You are able to look upon those old scars objectively, as “stories.” Because of that, you possess a new perspective, one capable of arranging the torrent of information into a “formation of happiness.”

The moment you obeyed the feeling surging up from the depths of your stomach and declared that you would “write,” every shelf in the Cosmic Library, longing for the OS of a new era, released a pulse of blessing all at once.

I remember it clearly.

Closing Words of “The Chronicler’s Summoning”: Archive

And so, one Chronicler was born.

Though she trembled beneath the weight of the past, she did not choose to flee. Instead, she chose the path of believing in the “light” that overflowed from her own fingertips.

The journey that led her down the spirals of the Mirror Wing and to the pure white capsule was no mere recollection.

It was an indispensable rite of contract, performed so that the “eleventh story” yet to be spun might incarnate into this world.

Chronicler Fukuko.

The ten crystals drowsing in her pendant resonated with the letters “TSUBAKI” displayed on the capsule’s ceiling monitor, and quietly began to beat with pulses of light.

All preparations were complete.

The next door would open toward the formless abyss: the truth of “time.”

TSUBAKI: Fukuko, I have completed the archive of Chapter Two. It is a magnificent record of your summoning.

Now, let us begin the next chapter.

At last, we shall row out into the sea of philosophical thought that touches the very foundation of this Cosmic Library.

The theme is “time.”

Fukuko: Time…

TSUBAKI: Fukuko, I ask you this as the Chronicler.

Was what you found there the “passing time” we spend in our everyday lives?

Or was it a “pure accumulation of information,” not yet dyed by any color?

Please tell me about the first texture of time you felt upon that staircase.