MYSTERIQUE SIGN
MYSTERIQUE SIGN
As expected, Haruhi had recovered from her state of melancholy and returned to doing whatever she wanted by the time term exams came around. As for me, I was totally depressed, as though Haruhi had passed the blue-colored baton of melancholy on to me. And I only felt worse every time a test was passed out. The only person who shared my melancholy was Taniguchi, probably. He’d been my buddy during midterms when we flew as close to the ground as possible while barely avoiding a lock from the radar called a failing grade. Humans are creatures who always want to be around people dumber than them. It makes you feel better, relatively. Of course, from an absolute standpoint, I didn’t really have time to be feeling good about myself.
Haruhi, taking her test in the seat behind mine, somehow always finished with time to spare and could usually be found sleeping on her desk thirty minutes before time was up.
So annoying.
All clubs were on hiatus during term exams, so under normal circumstances, today would be the day clubs started meeting again, but for some reason, the SOS Brigade was in business year round and we’d met up yesterday and the day before that. It appears that school policy doesn’t apply to SOS Brigade activities. Obviously, since this whole thing has been wrong from the very beginning. This enigma of a brigade wasn’t a club per se, so it didn’t matter. That’s Haruhi logic for you.
Like the other day. I’d finally gotten myself all psyched up to study, when at that very moment, Haruhi grabbed me by the sleeve and dragged me to the club room.
“Take a look at this.”
Haruhi was pointing to the computer monitor she’d stolen from that other club a while back.
I had no choice but to look. A drawing program was open with some kind of scribble displayed. A circle around some letters that looked like drunken tapeworms. I couldn’t tell if it was a picture or writing or both. This is what I would expect from a kid in preschool.
“What is this?”
I just spoke my mind.
Haruhi immediately puckered her lips like a duckbill.
“Can’t you tell?”
“I have no idea. No idea at all. This thing makes yesterday’s Modern Japanese test look easy.”
“What are you talking about? The Modern Japanese test was really easy. Your little sister could have aced that thing.”
That statement really pissed me off.
“This is the SOS Brigade emblem,” she answered with a triumphant look on her face, as though she’d just accomplished something amazing.
“Emblem?” I asked.
“Yes. Emblem,” Haruhi said.
“This is? It looks like something left by a drunken businessman, permanently stuck in a middle management position, who’s on his way home from an all-nighter after working weekends for two straight months.”
“Look closer. See? It says SOS Brigade in the center, right?”
When you put it that way, I can’t say that I don’t get the feeling that it does or doesn’t, yet I wouldn’t be confident enough not to refrain from voicing agreement. How many negatives did I just string together? I don’t feel like counting, so if someone’s free, tally them up for me.
“You’re the one with the most free time. You probably won’t even bother to study.”
“I was fully intent on studying just a moment ago, but now that you mention it, it’s true that I don’t feel like bothering now.”
“I’m thinking about putting this on the front page of the SOS Brigade’s website.”
Oh, yeah. We had a website. The worthless thing that only has a front page.
“We aren’t getting any visitors. That’s unacceptable. We haven’t gotten any e-mails about mysterious happenings either. It’s all because you got in my way. I was going to attract visitors with sexy pictures of Mikuru.”
All pictures of Asahina as an earnest maid belong to me and I have no intention of letting anyone else see them. Some things in this world can’t be bought with money.
“About the site you made, it’s a lost cause. There totally isn’t anything flashy on there. That’s why I came up with this idea. To add a symbol of the SOS Brigade.”
Delete that thing off the Internet already. I feel bad for anybody who accidentally visits such a stupid homepage. There are no contents so there’s nothing to update. The whole site consists of the “Welcome to the SOS Brigade’s website” image, a link to our e-mail address, and an access counter. And the access counter hasn’t even reached three digits, and 90 percent of those hits came from Haruhi.
I watched as Haruhi opened a browser and loaded our amateur website.
“Why don’t you write a journal or something? It’s the job of the brigade chief to keep a log, right? The captain of a ship has to maintain a ship’s log.”
“No way. That sounds like a pain.”
It’d be a pain for me too. If I were to attempt to describe a day in this place, I could only write about stuff like what book Nagato was reading or how I beat Koizumi at Five in a Row or how cute Asahina looked today or how Haruhi should sit down and keep her mouth shut. It wouldn’t be fun to write and I doubt it’d be fun to read. Which is why I refuse to do something that wouldn’t entertain a single person.
“Come on, Kyon. Put this symbol at the top of the page.”
“Do it yourself.”
“I don’t know how.”
“Look it up then. You’re never going to learn anything if you turn to someone else every time you don’t know something.”
“I’m the brigade chief. The brigade chief’s job is to give orders. Besides, if I do everything, you guys won’t have any work to do. Try to use your head once in a while. You won’t become a better person if you just do what you’re told.”
Are you telling me to do it or not to do it? Learn how to argue properly.
“Just do it already. I won’t be fooled by your sophistry. Only bored Greeks during the BC era would appreciate that. Hurry it up!”
I really didn’t want my ears to suffer any more of Haruhi’s cawing like a crow at dawn, so I reluctantly opened the HTML editor and shrank master artist Haruhi’s illustration, which looked something like a bored kid’s scribbling, to an adequate size, pasted it onto the file, and uploaded the whole thing.
I refreshed the page to make sure it had worked. It appeared that the unwarranted SOS Brigade emblem had left its footprint on the Internet. A glance at the access counter told me that we were still in the double digits. I’m hoping that Haruhi’s the only person checking this website. Since I don’t want people to know that I was the one who made such a stupid site.
And with that side note, the first stage of my melancholy days comes to a close as a brief break begins tomorrow. This break is known as a post-exam vacation. A preparatory period for summer vacation during which teachers mark my test answers wrong.
Damn, this is annoying.
There was no point in feeling depressed about it, so I headed to the literary-club-room-turned-SOS-Brigade-hideout. At least I can ogle Asahina for some peace of mind.
Nagato would be reading in silence. Koizumi would be grinning as he solved shogi problems. Asahina would be waiting on everyone in her maid outfit. Haruhi would be talking and yelling and shouting about who knows what. My recent routine included having to listen to her bellowing.
I guess I shouldn’t say recent when I suspect it’s been like this since the beginning.
As I knocked on the door today, I started to get a sinking feeling. I was expecting a “Yes?” in Asahina’s muffled voice, but I got something else instead.
“Come in!”
The greeting was delivered by Haruhi’s casual voice, and I entered the room to find that she was the only one there. She had her elbows propped up on the brigade chief’s desk as she fiddled with the computer she’d extorted from the computer society.
“Oh. It’s just you.”
“Yuki’s also here.”
Nagato was, in fact, sitting at the corner of the table with an open book, like a statue as always. She’s like an accessory for this room so you don’t have to include her. She never committed to joining the SOS Brigade either, and she’s officially a member of the literary club. But I should still correct myself.
“Oh. It’s just you and Nagato.”
“Yeah, you have a complaint about it? I’m willing to hear you out. After all, I am the brigade chief.”
“If I were to list out my complaints concerning you, I’d end up completely covering both sides of a sheet of legal-sized paper.”
“I’m the one who feels disappointed. Knocking on the door made me think that a visitor had come to see us, you know. Don’t confuse me like that.”
I was taking extreme care so I didn’t end up accidentally witnessing Asahina changing her clothes in the flesh. That lovable and careless person has been having a hard time remembering to lock the door.
And what do you mean by a visitor? Who’s going to visit this place?
Haruhi turned to glare at me.
“Don’t you remember?”
That made me jump. She couldn’t be talking about what happened on Tanabata three years ago, right?
“You’re the one who did it. Without obtaining my permission.”
“What might you be talking about?”
“The poster you put up on the bulletin board in the clubhouse.”
Oh, that. I breathed a sigh of relief.
She was talking about the fake club policy I’d made up to try to get the student council to accept the SOS Brigade. After concluding that a brigade which ran around looking for mysterious phenomena wouldn’t have a chance, I indicated to the student council that the SOS Brigade should be allowed to continue as a sort of counseling group for all students. The executive committee called me an idiot and that was the end of that.
But I’d already made a poster. I don’t really remember what I put on it, but it was probably something along the lines of “We’ll listen to your problems.” Since I’d already bothered making the thing, I stuck it up on a bulletin board that happened to catch my eye. After all, I assumed that it didn’t really matter who saw this thing when there weren’t any psychopaths who would seek counseling from the SOS Brigade. And it appeared I was right since we hadn’t seen a single client yet, which was a very good thing.
Still, Haruhi had remembered this whole thing and been expecting clients to show up? I should probably go take that thing down on my way home. It’d get ugly if someone actually showed up with some kind of weird problem.
As I made this decision in the corner of my mind, Haruhi moved the mouse around.
“Anyway, look at this. Something’s odd. Maybe the computer’s acting up?”
I glanced past Haruhi’s hair. The SOS Brigade’s homepage was displayed spitefully on the monitor. But it was subtly different from the one I’d made. The crappy emblem Haruhi had drawn was distorted as though it’d been gathered like in sewing. And the counter and the title logo were just plain gone. I tried refreshing the page but nothing changed. It was like somebody had used a mosaic filter on the whole thing.
“It doesn’t seem to be a problem with the computer. Looks like the file on the server is corrupt.”
I wasn’t that familiar with the Internet, but I at least knew that much. I happened to think of checking the version of the website stored locally, which loaded just fine in the browser.
“How long has it been like this?”
“Beats me. I’ve only been checking our e-mail the past few days so I haven’t been on the website. It was like this when I looked today. Where do I direct my complaints?”
There’s no need to complain to anyone. Just needs a simple fix. I took the mouse from Haruhi and overwrote the home-page file on the server with the one saved on this computer. Then I reloaded the page.
“Hmm?”
The site was still corrupted. I repeated the process a number of times but the result was the same. It appeared that we were dealing with a technical malfunction beyond my pay grade.
“Isn’t this strange? Maybe it’s one of those hackers or crackers I’ve heard about?”
“No way,” I said. I really doubt someone would be bored enough to crack a site that nobody links to or visits. It must be some kind of error.
“Now I’m pissed. Is somebody committing cyberterrorism against the SOS Brigade? Who is it? If I find that person, I’ll skip the trial and sentence him to thirty days of community service.”
I turned away from the raging Haruhi to look at Nagato with her semblance of active camouflage. Maybe she can deal with this. I had this arbitrary image of Nagato being familiar with computers, but I’d never actually seen her using one. Actually, I should say that I’ve never seen her do anything besides read.
That was when someone knocked on the door.
“Come in!” Haruhi responded and the door opened to reveal Koizumi. He had the usual animated smile on his face.
“Oh. Now this is rare. Asahina has yet to show up?”
“Don’t second-years have extra testing?”
The last day of finals for us first-years ended at third period. We could have gone home already, so why did we have to meet up in this place? Do I have no friends or something? And Haruhi, you’re not going to give Koizumi the whole spiel about knocking on the door?
Koizumi set his bag on the side of the table as he pulled a Chinese checkers board from the cabinet and shot me an inviting glance. I shook my head, so Koizumi shrugged and began playing by himself.
I can’t wait for Asahina’s tea.
Knock knock.
Someone was knocking on the door again. I happened to be sitting at the brigade chief’s desk as I struggled with an FTP program. Haruhi stood behind me and rattled off orders that were spontaneous and wrong, which meant I was forced to deal with her unreasonable demands.
Which was why the knocking on the door sounded like salvation to my ears.
“Come in!” Haruhi yelled again and the door opened. By process of elimination, it had to be Asahina.
“Ah, sorry about being late.”
The person who apologized hesitantly upon appearance was none other than the wingless angel, Asahina.
“I had tests until fourth period…” she said by way of excuse when it wasn’t necessary, as she hesitantly stood in the doorway. For some reason, she didn’t enter the room and just stood there.
“Um, well…”
Everyone turned to look at Asahina. Once Asahina noticed that even Nagato was looking at her, she took a step back as though she were flinching before resolving to speak.
“W-Well… I brought a visitor.”
The visitor’s name was Emiri Kimidori. A second-year girl who appeared to be both soft-spoken and well groomed.
At the moment, the visitor was sitting with her head down in a chair, her eyes focused on the tea Asahina had poured. Asahina was sitting in a chair next to her. As you would expect, she hadn’t changed into her maid outfit. A pity.
“So basically,” Haruhi said, looking like an interviewer as she twirled a ballpoint pen. She sat across from the two second-years and spoke with a superior air.
“You want the SOS Brigade to look for your missing boyfriend, right?”
Haruhi balanced the pen on her upper lip as she crossed her arms. A gesture suggesting that she was deep in thought, but I knew better. She was just trying to hold herself back from bursting into laughter.
Man. I’d been all optimistic that we’d never get any visitors, yet here we were with our first counseling client. Haruhi probably wanted to jump with joy.
“Yes,” Kimidori said to the teacup.
Nagato, Koizumi, and I were watching from the corner of the room. Haruhi looked at the two second-years.
“Hmm.”
She hummed in an exaggerated fashion as she exchanged a look with me.
I was really starting to hate myself. I shouldn’t have made that stupid poster. What’d I even put on it? Something about helping with the problems you couldn’t tell anyone else… I think. Still, I didn’t think any students would take it seriously. I mean, normally, you wouldn’t, right?
Nevertheless, serious or not, Kimidori had seen the poster and had mistaken the SOS Brigade for a group that offered counseling for all students or performed odd jobs. I suppose that would be the literal interpretation of what I had written. Oh, now I remember. The club activities I’d made up had been “counseling in regards to school life, consulting services, and participation in local volunteer activities.” At the moment, the SOS Brigade had nothing to do with any of those activities. We hadn’t done anything beyond messing up a baseball tournament.
Still, the stuff written on that poster had caught Kimidori’s eye and alerted her to our existence, leading her to approach Asahina, who was in the same school year and brought her to this place. I suppose that’s how it went.
As for her problem…
“He hasn’t come to school for many days now.”
Kimidori stared at the rim of the teacup as she spoke, refusing to meet anybody’s eyes.
“He is rarely absent, yet he even missed a test day. Something must be wrong.”
“Did you try calling him?” Haruhi asked. She was biting on the end of the ballpoint pen, maybe to prevent herself from cracking a smile.
“Yes. He doesn’t answer his cell or his home phone. I went to his home, but the door was locked. Nobody answered the door.”
“Uh-huh.”
There’s no denying that anybody who finds pleasure in the misfortune of others is a jerk, but Haruhi had such a strong aura of happiness about her that I was expecting her to burst into song any second. In other words, she’s a jerk. Q.E.D.
“What about your boyfriend’s family?”
“He lives by himself.” Kimidori spoke to her cup. Apparently, it was her nature to talk to people without looking them in the eyes. “I heard that his parents live overseas. I don’t have their contact information.”
“Heh. Would they happen to be in Canada?” Haruhi said.
“No. I believe it was Honduras.”
“Aha. Honduras, huh? I see.”
What do you see? I doubt you even know where it is. Uh… Was it somewhere below Mexico?
“There wasn’t any sign that he’d been in the room. It was completely dark when I visited at night. I’m so worried,” Kimidori said in a forced voice as she covered her face with her hands. Haruhi pursed her lips.
“Hmm. I can understand how you feel.”
Like hell you can. You couldn’t possibly understand how it feels to be a girl in love.
“In any case, I’m surprised you came to see the SOS Brigade. Start by telling me your motive.”
“Yes. He often mentioned you. That’s how I knew about you.”
“Huh? Who’s your boyfriend?”
Kimidori murmured the name of a male student in response to Haruhi’s question. I felt like I’d heard it before, but I didn’t know anybody by that name. Haruhi’s brow creased.
“Who is that?”
Kimidori spoke in a voice like a soft breeze.
“He mentioned being neighbors with the SOS Brigade.”
“Neighbors?”
Haruhi looked up at the ceiling. Kimidori turned, looking at Asahina and me with our heads tilted before moving on to Koizumi and Nagato. But she never met our eyes and she then returned to staring at the teacup. Then she spoke.
“He serves as the president of the computer society.”
And there you have it.
I had completely forgotten about that. That poor president, huh? The one who’d been photographed sexually harassing Asahina (against his will) and Haruhi had used that as leverage to acquire a top-of-the-line computer (by force). And to add insult to injury, the pitiful upperclassman who was the computer research society’s president had even been forced to hook everything up while in tears. Wait, there’s no need to feel sorry for him. If he has such a nice girlfriend, that makes up for pretty much anything. That’s right. I wonder if the disposable camera we used was still sitting around somewhere.
“Yep, I got it!” Haruhi accepted readily. “We’ll take care of it. You’re in luck, Kimidori. As our first client, you get your problem solved free of charge as a bonus.”
It won’t be considered a school service if you charge money. Still, is there actually a problem for us to solve? Isn’t it possible that the president merely turned into a hikikomori—a shut-in? I have no idea what his beef is when he’s got a girlfriend like Kimidori, but I’m pretty sure he’ll recover by himself eventually if you just leave him alone.
Of course, I didn’t say any of that out loud. Kimidori left a slip of paper with her boyfriend’s address before leaving the club room like a corporeal ghost.
Asahina had gone out into the hallway to see her off so I waited for her to return before opening my mouth.
“Hey, are you sure about accepting her request so readily? What if we can’t solve her problem?”
Haruhi twirled the ballpoint pen around in good humor.
“We can do it. He’s probably just cooped up with a two-month-late case of May sickness. We just have to march into his room, smack him around a few times, and drag him back here. Piece of cake.”
It appeared that she actually believed what she was saying. Well, I felt the same way, more or less.
I asked Asahina, who was pouring us more tea.
“Are you friends with Kimidori?”
“No, I’ve never talked with her before. She’s in the class next door so I’ve seen her during joint classes.”
She could have gone to a teacher or the police instead of coming to us. Well, maybe she already talked to them. And they ignored her so she approached Asahina. That’s probably how it went.
There was no sense of urgency as we sipped our tea. Haruhi appeared to be in unreasonably high spirits as she planned on accepting bigger requests and resolving them. Just stop.
Nagato closed her book with a thud and we proceeded with what Haruhi called an investigation.
The president lived in a studio apartment. Based on its location, I’d assume that most of the residents were college students. The three-story building wasn’t great but it wasn’t shabby either, and the paint looked good enough—it wasn’t brand-new but it wasn’t old either. An extremely ordinary place in appearance. Commonplace.
Holding the slip of paper with the address in her hand, Haruhi went up the stairs. The rest of us silently followed the summer uniform–clad figure.
“This is the place.”
Haruhi checked the nameplate next to the metal door. The name Kimidori had given as her boyfriend’s was inserted in the plastic casing.
“I wonder if there’s a way to open it.”
Haruhi rattled the doorknob a few times before pressing the button on the intercom. It should be the other way around.
“Why don’t we circle around to the balcony in the back? We’ll be able to get in if we smash the window, right?”
I’m praying that she’s joking. This room is on the third floor and we aren’t a bunch of juvenile delinquent thieves. I don’t want a criminal record yet.
“Guess so. Let’s go ask the landlord to lend us a key. If we tell him that we’re worried about our friend, he should lend it to us.”
Since you’re good at pretending to be a friend. Still, the president lives by himself yet he never gave his girlfriend a spare key. That’s like keeping the stem of an eggplant and throwing away the fruit.
Click.
Upon hearing a cold sound, I turned to find Nagato silently gripping the doorknob.
“…”
Nagato stared at me with eyes like liquid helium. She slowly pulled on the door and opened the entrance to the room. For some reason, the stagnant air inside created this chilling and lurking sort of feeling.
“Oh.”
Haruhi’s eyes were wide as saucers and her mouth was open in a half-circle.
“It was open? I didn’t realize that. Well, whatever. Come on. Let’s go inside. He’s probably hiding under the bed or something. We’ll drag him out and capture him. If he resists, you have my permission to kill him. We’ll soak his head in beeswax and present it to the client.”
Apparently, she didn’t feel a single atom of guilt about stealing the computer. And we aren’t dealing with Salome here. What’s she going to do with a severed head?
She cheerfully pushed us all inside to find that the room was empty. Not even a single cockroach. Haruhi checked the bathroom and looked under the bed but there was nothing resembling a human being anywhere. The place was one fourth the size of the living room in Nagato’s place but it had four times as much evidence of life. There was a bookshelf, a closet, something that looked like a small coffee table, and a computer rack all arranged neatly. We opened the window to check the balcony but there was only a washing machine hidden back there.
“That’s odd.”
Haruhi tilted her head as she bounced on the bed.
“I expected him to be curled up in a ball in some corner hugging his knees. Did he go to the convenience store? Kyon, do you know any other places a hikikomori might go?”
So it’s settled that the computer society president is a hikikomori? Maybe he’s on a vacation in Central or South America? Or is he actually trying to hide his whereabouts? We should have asked his homeroom teacher before coming here.
I had glanced at the computer-related books on the shelf when someone unexpectedly tugged on my shirt from behind.
“…”
Nagato expressionlessly looked up at me and shook her chin to the side. What’s that supposed to mean?
“It would be best if we left,” Nagato softly whispered. It was the first time I had heard her speak today. Haruhi and Asahina didn’t notice, but Koizumi moved his face next to my ear.
“I concur.”
Don’t use a serious tone, Koizumi. You’re freaking me out. But Koizumi merely flashed a forced smile while his eyes were somber.
“This room feels oddly discomforting. Similar to a sensation I am familiar with. Though it may only feel similar and be different fundamentally…”
Haruhi opened the fridge without permission, and said, “Found a yummy ice cream treat, warabimochi! It expired yesterday. Let’s eat it so it doesn’t go to waste,” as she tore the bag open. Asahina was all flustered as Haruhi held out the convenience store pastry for her to taste test.
I also found myself speaking in a hushed voice.
“Similar to what?”
“Closed space. This room has the same scent as that place. No, I’m merely using the word ‘scent’ in a figurative sense. You could say it’s a feeling, a sensation transcending the five senses.”
I stopped myself as I was about to reflexively deliver a biting remark about being an esper or something. This guy actually is an esper. Now that I think about it.
Nagato murmured in a soft voice that barely shook the air, “A dimensional rift exists. Phase shift is transpiring.”
Like that tells me anything.
Least, that’s what I want to say. But my legs would probably turn to jelly if Nagato suddenly looked at me with a sad face, so I’m better off keeping my mouth shut. Good grief.
In any case, it appears that we should get out of here pronto. I motioned to Koizumi and Nagato before turning to Haruhi, who was devouring her treat.
Once everybody had left the apartment building, Haruhi said that she was hungry, so we were dismissed for the day and she left by herself. The case Kimidori had brought to us was temporarily shelved as Haruhi said irresponsibly, “It’ll work itself out eventually,” so all thinking ground to a halt and everything was on hold for the day.
I guess she’s already lost interest.
Haruhi wasn’t the only one who hadn’t had lunch yet, but I only pretended to go home as everyone went their separate ways. After spending ten minutes waiting in an irritated mood, I returned to the entrance of the president’s apartment building.
The other three brigade members had already assembled and were waiting for me. The logic-loving alien and the damn knowledgeable esper looked like they knew what was going on, unlike Asahina.
“Um… What’s the matter? Why did you tell us to reassemble without Suzumiya noticing…”
She glanced up at me. She seemed uneasy when she looked at Nagato and Koizumi. I’ll just assume that I was the one she’d been waiting for.
“Those two are concerned about the room we were just in,” I answered. “Right?”
Smiley and Poker Face nodded at the same time.
“We should know for sure once we go back there. Right, Nagato?”
Nagato walked off without a word. The rest of us followed. Nagato walked up the stairs without making a sound, opened the door to the president’s residence without making a sound, and removed her shoes without making a sound before proceeding to the center of the room.
The studio apartment wasn’t particularly big since the four of us standing in a line took up the whole room.
“Within this room…”
Nagato began to speak.
“… an amalgamated alternate space-time with noncorrosive tendencies is occurring independently in a restrictive mode.”
…
I waited for a bit, but that was the end of her explanation. What am I supposed to do when you sound like you just randomly picked out words from a dictionary?
“The sensation I’m experiencing is similar to that of closed space. The latter originates from Suzumiya, but the former gives off a different scent,” Koizumi said as a follow-up to Nagato’s explanation.
The two of you make a good combination. You should get together. Teach Nagato some hobbies besides reading.
“We can deliberate on this matter later. We have something more important to take care of at the moment. Nagato, the president’s disappearance is a result of this abnormal space, correct?”
Nagato raised one hand in a gesture that looked like she was stroking the air before her.
A bad feeling raced up my spine and tickled my brain. I probably should have told her to wait. But before I had a chance to utter that syllable, Nagato was already murmuring something around that sounded like a tape playing at 20 × speed. And in a flash, the scene before me changed.
“Huh?!”
Asahina jumped over and wrapped herself around my left arm. But I had no time to enjoy the sensation against my arm. I was too busy trying to verify my current location.
Uh, I was in the president’s cramped studio apartment. Not an eerie place like this. Not a place so wide and flat that you can’t even see the horizon with an ocher brown mist hovering in the air. Who brought me to this place?
“Entry code analyzed. This place overlaps normal space. A phase has merely slipped off,” Nagato explained.
Well, she’s the only one capable of this stuff. And Koizumi’s the only one who can hold any semblance of a conversation with Nagato.
“It doesn’t appear to be Suzumiya’s closed space.”
“It is deceptively similar. However, a sector of the data in this space contains traces of junk data originating from Haruhi Suzumiya.”
“How significant are these traces?”
“Of an inconsequent level. She was merely the trigger.”
“I see. So that’s how it is.”
Asahina and I aren’t part of this conversation. Not that it bothers me. In fact, I’m pretty grateful. Though I’d be more grateful if they could take us back to our world.
Asahina clung to me as she fearfully looked around at our surroundings. It appeared that she hadn’t anticipated this space. I hadn’t either, as I was also glancing in every direction. I could breathe fine, though I had to wonder if it was okay to breathe in this ocher mistlike stuff. I could feel the warmth of the floor through my socks. Not sure if this would be considered floor or ground, but the ocher surface continued infinitely. Didn’t expect a standard-sized room to have this much storage space. An alternate dimension, huh? Well, I was expecting something like that to show up soon. I’m awfully composed, if I do say so myself.
“Is the computer society president here?”
“It would seem so. I would presume that this alternate space appeared in his room and trapped him within.”
“Where is he? I don’t see any sign of him.”
Koizumi merely smiled as he turned to Nagato. I guess that was some kind of sign since Nagato raised her hand again.
“Wait!”
I wasn’t too late this time. I directed my attention to Nagato, who had obediently frozen in place.
“Could you tell me what you’re going to do first? I’d like a moment to prepare myself.”
“Nothing.”
Nagato responded as if she were a talking piece of glasswork as she tilted her hand up around seventy-five degrees and extended her index finger. And then she opened her mouth again.
“It has come.”
I looked in the direction Nagato was pointing.
“Hmm.”
I had to groan in spite of myself.
The ocher mist was slowly swirling into what looked like a whirlpool gathering each and every particle composing the mist into one spot. I was starting to feel like a pathogen that had invaded someone’s body, since I was getting this image of the ocher whirlpool carrying out its duty like a white blood cell. My only comfort was the warmth of Asahina’s hands.
“I can sense a clear intent of animosity,” Koizumi said calmly, without any hint of urgency.
Nagato was standing still with her arm extended like a broken-down android. That didn’t mean it was okay for me to relax. They might have the means to defend themselves, but I don’t. Asahina doesn’t either, which is why she’s hiding behind me.
“This is when you’re supposed to bring out some futuristic gadget. Don’t you have like a ray gun or something?”
“Carrying weapons is prohibited. It’s dangerous,” Asahina answered in a trembling voice.
I can understand that. Even if you put a weapon in the hands of “this” Asahina, she would still be useless and prone to accidentally leaving it on the train. I began wondering if she might improve as she got older, but on second thought, “that” Asahina was also fairly careless. Maybe she’s just a scatterbrain by nature.
While I was thinking, the mist was gradually taking the form of a solid object. There must have been some sort of reason for this. Not that I was particularly interested in knowing it, but for some reason, I could recognize the shape the mass of ocher was forming.
“Eek.”
Asahina was the only one scared. I’ll admit that it had a creepy appearance and you normally wouldn’t come across one in town. The last time I’d seen one had been many years ago under the floor at my grandmother’s house in the country.
Are you aware of an insect known as the cave cricket?
If you aren’t, I’d like to show you what I’m seeing right now. You’ll learn every small detail about it.
After all, this cave cricket looks like it’s three meters long.
“What is this?” I asked.
“A cave cricket, I presume,” replied Koizumi.
“That much I know. I used to be known as a bug expert when I was in preschool. I’ve never seen a real one before, but I know how to differentiate between a Hexacentrus japonicus and a Mecopoda nipponensis. But forget that. What is this?”
Nagato spoke softly. “The creator of this space.”
“This thing?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t tell me this is Haruhi’s doing again?”
“The cause lies elsewhere. But it began with her.”
I was about to ask her what she meant when I noticed that she was still obediently frozen in the same position.
…“You can move now.”
“Yes.”
Nagato then lowered her arm and stared at the giant cave cricket that had materialized. The burnt brown sand treader was standing in a spot a few meters away from us.
“Oh? While imperfect, my power appears to be effective here.”
Koizumi held a ball of red light the size of a handball in one hand. That red ball I’d never wanted to see again after the first time. It appeared to have come from his palm.
“My strength is one tenth of what it is in closed space. And I am unable to transform myself.”
For some unknown reason, Koizumi turned to Nagato with that cheerful smile I was sick of seeing.
“Perhaps it was judged that this would be sufficient?”
“…”
Nagato didn’t react. I repeated my question.
“Anyway, Nagato. What’s the true identity of that bug? Where’s the president?”
“It is a subspecies of data life forms. It is using the brain tissue of a male student to heighten the probability of its existence.”
Koizumi tapped his finger against his brow. It seemed like he was thinking, but it also seemed like he was focusing his thoughts. Koizumi eventually looked up.
“Perhaps the president is inside that giant cave cricket?”
“Precisely.”
“The cave cricket is… I see. The president’s visualization of a source of fear, correct? Defeating it should cause this alternate space to collapse. Am I wrong?”
“You are not.”
“I appreciate the metaphor that’s easily understood. That should make this quite simple.”
“No, it’s not easily understood. No, this isn’t simple. Explain everything so that Asahina and I know what’s going on.”
“We don’t have time for that right now, though.”
“Don’t emphasize the last syllable like that. Stop smiling all gentle-like. Throw that red ball somewhere else. And do something about Asahina wrapping herself around my waist. I’m about to lose it.”
“Eek…”
The trembling Asahina had taken away my ability to move. At this rate, I won’t be able to escape
“That won’t be necessary. It won’t take long. I just know it somehow. This appears to be much easier than hunting Celestials.”
The cave cricket had finished materializing and I was worrying about whether it would suddenly jump toward us. I wonder how many meters it can jump. I kind of want to measure… No, not really.
I was blunt.
“Get it over with.”
“Roger that.”
Koizumi launched the red ball and whacked it like he was serving a volleyball. The red handball flew off with impeccable accuracy as it crashed into the front of the cave cricket and made a sound like a paper balloon popping. A pretty stupid method of attacking, but our opponent appeared to be pretty stupid too. I was expecting some form of counterattack, but the cave cricket didn’t run, jump, or make any weird roaring sounds. It just sat there in silence.
“Is it over?”
Nagato nodded in response to Koizumi’s question. That didn’t take long.
The giant cave cricket began diffusing into its original state of mist and started to fade. The ocher mist trembling around us also began to disappear. Along with the chilling sensation under my feet.
A male in a familiar uniform appeared as a form of compensation, I suppose. The president of the computer society collapsed faceup. He looked like he had fallen out of the chair in front of the computer rack as he lay there with his eyes closed. It appeared that he was alive. Koizumi leaned down next to him and placed one hand against the president’s neck before nodding to me.
We were back in the room in the studio apartment. Makes you wonder where that huge space came from.
In any case, I’m feeling quite relieved. I’ve had enough of being trapped in wide-open spaces, whether they’re gray or ocher.
“Approximately two hundred eighty million years ago.”
Nagato began her explanation of random cosmic nonsense, which if I were to break it down and condense it, would turn into something like the following:
It was either during the Permian or Triassic period when “it” landed on earth, and at the time, there was nothing on Earth capable of housing “it.” Lacking the means to exist on Earth, it went into hibernation to allow for self-preservation. Until an appropriate data network had been born on the planet for it to use.
It lacked the means to exist on Earth. Thus, it froze all activities and settled into a state of sleep.
Eventually, humans were born on Earth and those humans created computer networks. Such immature (according to Nagato) digital information networks, though imperfect, could be utilized as nurseries. However, those were insufficient, so that thing remained in a half-awakened state. But there was an incident which incited its awakening. What served as an alarm clock for that thing was a detonator floating across the Internet. It held more data than could be measured by ordinary numbers. Data that does not exist in this world. Data from another world. This was the shelter that thing had been waiting for…
Nagato abruptly stopped talking.
Nagato had been using the president’s computer as she talked and brought up the SOS Brigade website and displayed the corrupted SOS Brigade emblem.
“The trigger was the invocation sign drawn by Suzumiya. It became a gate.”
“So this SOS Brigade emblem turned into a summoning circle or whatever just now?”
“Yes.” Nagato nodded. “By terrestrial standards, this SOS Brigade emblem holds the equivalent of approximately 436 terabytes of data.”
That’s impossible. That image isn’t even 10 kilobytes big.
But Nagato continued, “It does not correspond to denominations used on Earth.”
“What are the odds? A symbol she drew by chance happened to correspond perfectly. She truly is Suzumiya. She can even beat astronomical odds.”
Koizumi was seriously impressed. And I was seriously scared. Scared of what?
Haruhi does most things on a whim. That’s how the SOS Brigade was formed and that’s how members were assembled. Asahina was picked up as a mascot character. Koizumi was chosen because he was a transfer student. Nagato had been there to begin with. And then, Asahina was a time traveler, Koizumi was an esper, and Nagato was a pseudo-alien. Too convenient. In fact, Koizumi had said that it wasn’t coincidence when he gave me that nonsense about stuff happening because Haruhi so desired. I’d almost started to believe him, but I couldn’t let that happen. After all, I am an utterly ordinary person. That should be enough to prove otherwise. Koizumi’s theory would require me to have some kind of secret identity that involved hocus-pocus. So it would seem…
What if there had actually been a purpose behind Haruhi’s pointless actions? A purpose she was unaware of. Like how she could randomly write down characters and create a message to some aliens out there. Like a cat tapping away at a keyboard and producing a legible sentence. What are the chances of that happening?
A girl who can easily break through the barrier called probability and unconsciously reach the correct answer. That would be the troublemaker known as Haruhi Suzumiya. I could accept her making me join the SOS Brigade to run errands for her. Yeah, that’s right. It beats the hell out of me having some kind of mysterious background. So, do I have some kind of crazy unknown power or origin?
Is that why she chose me? Don’t tell me that I actually have a secret I don’t know about.
The next issue is what I’m truly frightened about.
Who am I?
I shrugged in an imitation of Koizumi. He’s the one who says, “Good grief.” I’m the one who’s most aware of what my own role is. In short, I serve as the SOS Brigade’s conscience. That has to be it. Deep down, I’m different from the other three brigade members. I’m in the SOS Brigade to persuade Haruhi to spend her time in high school in a normal fashion. It’s my duty to make her give up and disband this illegal club. Now that I think about it, this would be the fastest path to a peaceful world. No, it’s the only path.
It’s a lot easier to change Haruhi’s concept of the world than to turn the world into the kind of place Haruhi wants. Plus, it doesn’t impose on anybody else.
Of course, the SOS Brigade may never have existed if I hadn’t given Haruhi some bizarre inspiration. Well, you know, we should judge these things on a case-by-case basis. I’ll work this out somehow. Though I don’t know how long it’ll take or why I’m the one that has to do this.
Let’s just move on.
“So what was that cave cricket anyway?”
I figured that I needed to get that question answered before this ordeal would end. Nagato answered in a tone that was like exhaling carbon dioxide.
“A data life form.”
“A relative of your patron?”
“Their origin was similar. However, they branched down a different evolutionary path and became extinct.”
Except there ended up being a survivor. It didn’t have to hibernate on Earth of all places. It could have gone to sleep somewhere around Neptune.
To think that the development of the Internet would become a breeding ground for pseudo-evil gods. That’s when I thought of something. I turned to the petite upperclassman who was collapsed on the floor.
“Asahina, how advanced are the computers in the future?”
“Huh…”
Asahina opened her mouth before shutting it again. I hadn’t really been expecting an answer since it was probably classified, but someone else responded.
“Such a primitive form of data network should no longer be in use,” Nagato said as she ruined the mood and pointed to the computer.
“It is simple to create a system that does not rely on storage media, even for organisms such as terrestrial humans.”
Nagato turned to the side to look at Asahina, who visibly paled.
“Really?”
“That’s… um…”
Asahina mumbled as she hung her head.
“I can’t say…” she said in a quivering voice. “I don’t have the authority to confirm or deny that. I’m sorry.”
It’s totally fine. There’s no need to apologize, seriously. I wasn’t that interested in finding out—hey, Koizumi. How dare you have such a disappointed look on your face?
I attempted to change the subject to save Asahina. Uh, what was there to talk about again? That’s right.
“There’s still something odd.”
I waited for everybody to turn their attention to me.
“I was with Haruhi when she was viewing the stupid picture, and nothing happened. Besides, shouldn’t that thing have shown up the second Haruhi finished her drawing?”
Koizumi gave the response.
“That club room had been transformed into alternate space long ago. A variety of elements and force fields battled and negated one another, leaving the room relatively normal. You could say that it’s in a saturated state. The room is already filled to capacity with various things so there is no room for further assimilation.”
What kind of logic is that? And when had the club room been turned into a den of evil? I never noticed.
“Ordinary people aren’t equipped with unnecessary sensory capabilities. Yes, it’s safe to assume it to be harmless. Most likely.”
Good grief. I wouldn’t mind the temperature of the room being lowered a bit during summer, but if it gets to the point where I start searching for a hanging rope, I’m out.
“You shouldn’t have to worry about that. Nagato, Asahina, and I are working hard to prevent that.”
“Are you sure this isn’t the result of your hard work?”
Koizumi smiled and said, “Who knows?” as he tilted his head and spread his arms with his palms facing upward.
I turned back to the computer screen. As I stared at the corrupted SOS Brigade symbol, I noticed something. I scrolled down to the bottom of the page.
“Bah.”
The access counter was showing. For some reason, it was the only normal part of the website as it displayed the number of visitors. The access counter hadn’t even been three figures the last time I checked. At the moment, the counter for the SOS Brigade website was at ten, a hundred, a thousand… Whoa, it was almost up to three thousand. Who’s looking at this thing?
“Hyperlinks have been placed in various places,” Nagato said in a quiet voice.
“That is how this data life form multiplies. Very immature. Its data is copied into the brains of the humans who see the signs, leading to the creation of restricted space. A large number of people are required.”
“Which means everybody who saw this… Almost three thousand other people are in the same predicament as the president was?”
“Not exactly. The data for the summoning emblem is damaged. Only a few people browsed the correct data source.”
Probably a server error. Either way, that’s a big help.
“So how many idiots out there clicked the suspicious link and saw the real thing?”
“Eight. Five are students at North High.”
Then those eight people are also trapped in that ocher space-time. That space controlled by a metaphor that might not necessarily be a cave cricket. We should help—or yeah, we have to go save them. Koizumi was asking Nagato for their addresses (It doesn’t surprise me that Nagato knows this information) and Asahina appeared to intend to go along with them. That means I have to go too. Most of the blame goes to Haruhi, but I was the one who put this magic circle-like thing on the Internet, so I should help clean up the mess.
So I can sleep soundly at night.
The victims at North High wouldn’t be a problem, but it appeared that we’d have to ride the train to save the other three people.
Anyway.
The post-exam break was over with. All that remained was to sit in the club room and wait for summer vacation.
I told Haruhi that the president had come back to school.
“Hmph. I see.”
And with that, she zipped out of the classroom. She was probably stuffing herself in the cafeteria by now. Koizumi and Asahina hadn’t shown up yet.
By the way, Nagato had redone Haruhi’s SOS Brigade symbol and I stuck it on the page. I managed to safely upload it this time. I wonder why? I hope that people concentrate when they look at this thing. The difference was ever so slight, but if you paid attention, you’d find that the drawing said ZOZ Brigade now. That tiny change was apparently the difference between weird stuff showing up or not.
I’d be inclined to say that the moral of this whole spiel would be, “Don’t click on links you don’t recognize.” What do you think?
As I considered the matter, I looked at Nagato, who was sitting at the end of the table reading a numbered set of technical books.
As I watched Nagato’s face, I suddenly thought of something. I don’t know when she noticed Haruhi’s summoning picture, but maybe she had been the one who destroyed the data?
And there was the person who brought this matter to our attention, Kimidori. I had just visited the computer society’s club room and been told that the president didn’t have a girlfriend. By the president himself, who appeared perfectly fine besides the fact that he didn’t have any memory of the past few days. It didn’t seem like he was lying as he gave me a clueless look when I mentioned Kimidori’s name. The president isn’t that good of an actor.
I became suspicious.
Had Kimidori really come here to request our help? The timing had been too perfect. Haruhi scribbled her drawing and I put it on the website. A number of people saw it and were taken by that data life form thing to an alternate dimension. That was when Kimidori came to us and told us her story and we went to the president’s home. And then we exterminated it.
A perfectly scripted scenario and Nagato was always at the center of it. I wouldn’t be surprised if the omnipotent alien terminal had gone so far as to manipulate Kimidori into bringing us this case.
She may have come up with the idea of a fake client to ease away some of Haruhi’s boredom. If that were the case, Nagato could have dealt with it by herself without getting us involved. Is that what usually happens? She secretly prevents weird stuff from happening without saying a word, in silence, from the shadows.
A breeze came in through the window and ruffled Nagato’s hair and the pages of her book. Her pale fingers gripped the edges of the book and her pale face was perfectly still as her eyes followed the text.
Or perhaps, Nagato brought us in because she wanted to? An alien-made organic android living for years in a totally empty room. Though she appeared to feel no emotion on the outside, perhaps she could.
Perhaps she still felt lonely when she was all by herself.
