Deep Sea Embers

Duncan found himself momentarily frozen in the hallway, struck by a revelation that was as bewildering as it was enlightening. He grappled with a mix of emotions, feeling both incredulous at the absurdity of the situation and, at the same time, strangely convinced by its logic. This internal conflict swirled in his thoughts for some time before he managed to push aside the desire to voice his perplexities, choosing instead to concentrate on the peculiar “screen” that was integrated into the wall before him.

As he stood there, lost in thought, his expression slowly shifted to one of deep reflection.

The cataclysm known as The Great Annihilation had ushered in a “collision of worlds,” fundamentally altering the fabric of reality. The New Hope had not been spared, part of it morphing into what was now known as the “Alice Mansion,” suspended in subspace. Within this mansion, after employing a navigation key to access an alternate version, Duncan encountered a “screen” at the corridor’s end which purported to unveil the truth of the mistress’s bedroom…

In essence, the Alice Mansion that was accessed with the navigation key had parts of its structure “restored” or rather “re-materialized” to their original form.

Mulling over these revelations, Duncan raised his gaze towards the far end of the corridor, pondering what had become of the garden and the doll that once lay there in slumber.

He descended from the second floor, retracing the path engraved in his memory down the stairs, through a narrow passageway adjacent to the main hall, past the now silent rooms that once seemed to whisper secrets, making his way toward the garden.

His journey was momentarily interrupted by a peculiar door along the corridor.

Among the numerous identical doors, one stood out, shimmering with a silvery metallic luster, its edges highlighted by soft blue glowing lines, making it look like a piece of advanced machinery set within the mansion’s classical decor. Drawn to it, Duncan approached and noticed an “observation window” set above the door.

Peering through this window, he observed a room bathed in cold, blue light, filled with densely arranged cabinet equipment on large racks and brackets, interconnected by pipes that dangled from the ceiling, linking these enigmatic machines.

Duncan attempted to open the door, only to find it immovable, as if it were merely an “illusion” affixed to the wall, never meant to “open.”

Yet, as he studied the room’s interior, Duncan found himself deep in thought.

He recalled the whispers that seemed to emanate from the mansion’s corners in the version of the Alice Mansion he knew well, along with the soft music that appeared to drift from an unseen ballroom within its expansive halls.

…Could it be that those ghostly sounds were in fact the humming of server arrays in operation?

Entertaining this surprising thought, Duncan moved away from the door with its flickering metallic glow, continuing his path toward the garden’s entrance.

The corridor Duncan traversed felt immeasurably longer than he recalled, stretching out before him as if defying the limits of memory and space. Yet, through the dim light, the silhouette of the garden gate was persistently visible, serving as a beacon that seemed to call out to him, urging him to hasten his steps as though guided by an unseen force.

As Duncan advanced, the environment began to reveal startling anomalies. The doors and walls beside him started to unveil their “original” forms beneath their classical exteriors: doors gleamed with a futuristic, metallic sheen; sections of wall transformed into the interiors of spacecraft cabins, complete with embedded lighting; irregularly shaped metal plates surfaced unexpectedly. These remnants of a bygone era emerged amidst the traditionally elegant facades and rooftops like the shedding of dragon scales, revealing the metallic infrastructure and power lines that lay beneath the architectural “skin.”

Eventually, Duncan reached the end of the seemingly infinite corridor, where the garden gate awaited him. Crafted from an array of colorful stained glass and set within a classically designed frame that emitted a soft, pale blue glow, the gate stood in silent invitation. A screen was unexpectedly placed among the stained glass, displaying the words: Navigation Core Server/Mind Core Chamber.

Pausing momentarily in front of this gate, Duncan extended his hand towards it. To his recollection, the gate opened with ease as though it had never been secured, revealing a dimly lit expanse that unfolded before him.

Beyond the gate lay a hall, its farthest reaches shrouded in a mist-like darkness that blurred its edges and dimensions. Within this haze, dark, obelisk-like shapes loomed, their outlines intermittently pierced by flickering lights. The only clearly visible feature in this enigmatic space was a circular platform at its center.

From above, countless wires and pipes cascaded down, converging on a peculiarly shaped protrusion on the platform. These connections were illuminated by a soft light that danced between them, reminiscent of fireflies in the night. The arrangement gave the impression of a surreal, living “tree,” with light coursing through its “branches” as if it were the lifeblood of the structure.

At the base of this extraordinary and chaotic “tree,” the doll sat silently on the platform’s edge.

She was awake.

Yet, she made no move to acknowledge Duncan’s entrance into the hall. The doll, a mirror image of Alice, sat motionless, clutching a white drawing board to her chest, her gaze fixed ahead in an unfocused stare as if frozen in a perpetual state of readiness.

Duncan inhaled deeply, treading carefully towards the doll at the root of the “tree of cables.”

When he had covered a certain distance, the doll showed the first sign of awareness, subtly turning her head. It appeared as though her attention shifted from the door to Duncan himself.

Despite her slight movement in response to Duncan’s presence, the doll remained silent and expressionless, her gaze following him not with the curiosity or warmth of a living being, but rather with the detached, programmed responsiveness of an inanimate object. She was like a doll in the truest sense, equipped with only the most rudimentary form of interaction: basic motion tracking.

Yet, as Duncan observed this minimal reaction, he felt an unexpected wave of emotion wash over him. This simple, almost ghostly, interaction with the doll stirred a peculiar sense of poignancy within him as if her mechanical behavior had somehow tapped into the eerie essence of their surroundings.

He moved closer to her, and as he did, the doll slowly lifted her head, her eyes mechanically adjusting to keep him in her line of sight, yet without any hint of real recognition or emotion.

Suddenly, breaking the silence, the doll spoke, “There’s no way forward.”

Her voice, unexpected and clear, cut through the room, startling Duncan. He hadn’t anticipated that the doll, which had so far shown no sign of life beyond basic tracking, would speak.

Caught off guard, Duncan responded, “No way forward? What do you mean?”

The doll’s response was cryptic, “Guiding New Hope to jump to a safe domain…”

She turned her head in a stiff, slow motion, her gaze drifting as if she was looking through the fog at the servers hidden beyond, or perhaps at images from a past that had vanished from the space. Her voice, devoid of emotion, reverberated through the hall, “Guiding jump to gravitational focus… Jump engine disabled, star chart malfunction… Standard stellar deviation… No navigation points found, destination analyzing failed… There’s no way forward…”

Suddenly, she seemed to freeze, her eyes widening as though a surge of realization had jolted her from a deep slumber.

“There’s no way forward, Navigator Three apologizes to all crew members, there’s no way forward, apologies, there’s no way forward…”

She began to repeat herself, caught in a tragic loop of apologies, her voice echoing endlessly. A low, ominous noise began to fill the hall, emanating from the fog in every direction. As she continued her distressed repetition, her voice growing increasingly urgent, “There’s no way forward, there’s no way forward there’s no way forward there’s no…”

The background noise escalated into a shrill scream, accompanied by a sensation as if something massive was collapsing within the fog, shaking the entire hall. Just as the situation seemed to spiral out of control, Duncan, driven by a sudden impulse of desperation, grasped the doll’s shoulders firmly and called out, “Alice! Alice, can you hear me speaking?!”

To his astonishment, the doll ceased her repeating chant, her head turning slowly towards him as if the sound of her name had reached some part of her. A flicker of what seemed like recognition passed through her otherwise vacant eyes.

As the shrill noise and the vibrations subsided, the doll whispered, “Captain…”

Gazing directly into Duncan’s eyes, the doll’s voice emerged with the strained and stilted quality of a long-dormant machine stirring back to life, each word a laborious effort.

Then, with deliberate motions, she turned her head from side to side, as though recalibrating her systems. Following this adjustment, her speech flowed a bit more smoothly: “Captain, are you hungry?”

Duncan found himself at a loss for words.

The thought that this innocent doll would prioritize such a mundane concern upon regaining some semblance of consciousness was both bewildering and oddly touching.

“I’m not hungry. This isn’t the time for that,” Duncan replied, swiftly regaining his composure. The possibility of actually reviving some part of Alice’s awareness in this surreal setting seemed beyond belief, “Look around you. Do you understand the situation you’re currently in?”

It was only then that Alice seemed to fully register her surroundings, noticing for the first time that they were no longer aboard the familiar confines of the Vanished.

A fleeting expression of confusion crossed her features as she turned her puzzled gaze towards Duncan: “What place is this?”

Duncan paused, considering how best to explain the complex reality of their situation to Alice’s innocent consciousness. How could he describe that they were essentially inside “the core server room of the New Hope’s navigation chamber, which had been reimagined by the observers,” in a way she could comprehend? After a brief moment of thought, he took a decisive stance, grasping Alice’s shoulders firmly.

“This is the world inside your brain.”

Alice’s response was one of naive bewilderment: “But I don’t have a brain.”

The reply left Duncan momentarily speechless, struggling to find a response to her literal interpretation.

After a beat of stunned silence, he managed a stern reply: “Just pretend you do!”

“…Oh.”