Non-Resonant Traps
“Have you ever heard of a non-resonant laser?”
“Only in passing.”
A laser that confines light inside something shaped like a fish trap. Not mainstream—more of a hipster laser.
“Why do you ask?”
“I believe we can trap Outer Gods in the same way. Gravitational waves are waves, just like light.”
Hmm.
“Unlike resonant systems, which are heavily restricted by size and angle, this approach has far fewer limitations. The fabrication difficulty will be high, but if we succeed, it could solve the problem entirely.”
In other words, we could imprison far more Outer Gods.
By this point I caught on and asked carefully, “So, in addition to the resonator research we’re already doing, you’re proposing we develop an entirely new kind of trap for containing Outer Gods?”
“Correct, student.”
“We’ll need experts in condensed matter physics as well.”
And that was only the beginning. Capital, personnel, a proposal for the government, patent filings, securing raw material routes, expanding the laboratory, renting equipment. Most of all—
Verification of business feasibility.
If you pour money in and nothing comes out, the higher-ups will clutch the backs of their necks in fury.
But what can you do? Characteristic of theoretical physicists: discard any sense of reality and only check whether something is possible or not.
And the review result?
Possible. Extremely possible.
“In my view, even with a few drawbacks, this will be more cost-effective than the resonator.”
“Miniaturization is feasible, and once we secure the materials, mass production becomes possible. Exactly.”
Professor Feynman and I had more topics to discuss than we could count. It was basically running the happiness circuit, but that’s what theoretical physicists do. And it’s precisely by doing things like this that you hit the jackpot.
Professor Feynman and I looked at each other and grinned. Professor Stranoff, watching us, grew sulky.
“What the hell? Why are you two having a conversation I’m not part of?”
“Professor Stranoff.”
“…Yeah, what?”
“We still have a mountain of things left to discuss.”
“Huh? Oh, right.”
“May I borrow your husband for a moment?”
“?”
Your husband is seriously impressive.
I know someone who’s quite prominent in both condensed matter physics and Outer God biology.
What does she do?
She tortures avatars using metamaterials and Darwin crystals.
In the Outer God biology field, only a handful of people make a living by writing papers. She’s one of them.
What is her name?
Director Angela Whiritia of the Southern Outer God Biology Research Institute.
Whiritia. A surname I recognized.
“She’s the mother of Miss Whiritia, who was my classmate at the academy.”
Sonia combed my hair with mousse while peppering me with questions.
“Are you expanding your research again?”
“That’s why I’m going to meet her.”
She was so busy that it took three full days just to send an email and receive an OK. Considering how obsessively researchers check their mail, that was actually quite slow.
“What about Zernya?”
“She returned to school.”
“Has the semester already started?”
Time really flies. Once the second semester ends, next year Rustilla, Seti, and the rest of the kids will enter college. That’s when the main story truly begins.
After enduring Zernya’s scheming, it’ll be Seti’s turn. A succession war for family head is about to erupt, and the girl goes insane after being cast out of the household. Her eldest brother is a cunning bastard who crushes his half-siblings, crushes their mother too—ugh. What a dysfunctional family.
Let’s say I prevent that.
Oh dear, how terrible. Next, the Descartes Number Two invades the eastern front? Two Great Omega ranks get their heads taken and turned into host plants. Let’s say I stop that too.
Then the Darwinian boss comes from the south. Fuck. That bitch tears the Ether Belt apart. And then both Nyer and Rustilla die to her. The Rheinland and Whiritia families get wiped out at the same time.
Hmm. Let’s say I stop that as well.
Next comes the Descartes boss. That one is Cartesia’s father. Invasion from all four cardinal directions. The story of “Outer God Slayer” that I read ends right there—because the author killed the protagonist at that point.
Thanks to that, I never even got to see the Laplace army. I remember closing the book thinking, “Whoa, this is cosmic horror!” But now—goddamn it, why did I have to possess this body? What the hell is this?
Anyway, right now I was facing the original author herself.
“How’s your body?”
“……”
“Any pain anywhere?”
Silence.
I sat down on the chair without thinking. A sigh—whoosh—drifted through the air. I couldn’t tell whose it was.
“I can’t… take this anymore.”
The protagonist opened her mouth.
“Being this… helpless.”
A month? Two months? I’d already forgotten how long it had been since I kidnapped, imprisoned, and interrogated our dear original author who had given us such a shitty ending. It was now July, and she had arrived in February, so—ah. She had been tied up here for five months.
Unable to do anything. Never once feeling sunlight.
“I’m only alive because I genuinely can’t die. Swallowing a capsule to kill myself hurts too much and scares me too much, so I only consider it right before I have to look at those bastards’ dicks.”
“……”
“Seriously, if I die now, it’s really over. Those Outer God bastards are vicious, but they don’t seem to have the ability to rewind time here.”
“……”
“This time I’m tied up here, listening to weird pervert lectures on fluid mechanics. I want to go outside and do something. I want to use my power. I want to smash everything to pieces. But I can’t.”
Hmm.
“Ha, I see.”
She let out a sigh.
“I know you’re a different person. I know something about you is different. But I’ve been betrayed so many times that I can’t tell who’s who anymore, so I can’t trust you at all… but you understand what I’m saying, right?”
“Of course.”
“My head hurts, the Constellation says I’m fine, yet I can’t stop crying. It feels like every kind of scream is clawing at my entire body. There are mountains of events I have to prevent, and yet—why was I born with this constitution?”
There is no guarantee the protagonist will be strong. In this genre, she must appear as a fragile being. The genre only works if she constantly collapses, goes mad, and feels awe.
Yet her mentality must be maintained so the novel can continue for a long time. A contradictory kind of strength.
“In the end I was tied up in a place like this, and I don’t even remember what day it is anymore.”
“……”
She lifted her head.
“I’m exhausted now.”
She begged as if spitting the words out.
Save me.
“No matter what happens from now on, I don’t care.”
Save me.
“Just end it here.”
Save me.
“If you really aren’t that trash ‘Idel,’ then you can at least show some mercy, can’t you?”
Save me.
“Please. Kill me.”
Please, save me.
The original author—the protagonist—shouted.
With an average lifespan of fifteen years and 880,000 regression cycles. She begged for an end to the 13.2 million years she had spent alone.
Because the resonator research and everything else sounded like empty talk.
No. She simply wanted to run away irresponsibly.
No, from the beginning she never wanted to bear such responsibility, never needed to. She was just a weak, fragile human.
But—
This was a request that could not be granted by swords, medicine, or money.
“All right.”
Only one thing could grant it.
A pen.
Only the person holding the pen could grant it.
“Count exactly 600,000 seconds from now.”
I placed my finger on Ire’s forehead and murmured.
“When you’re done counting, I’ll end it for you cleanly.”
“Whew.”
While I sat in the lobby devouring papers on non-resonant lasers, a crisp whistle tickled my ears. A petite woman came trotting over, her dark-green hair swaying. Safety goggles sat on her forehead. A lab coat that was too big for her hung from her shoulders. She fluttered the hem of her coat like a butterfly before stopping gracefully in front of me.
I lowered my head slightly and exchanged greetings with her.
“It’s an honor to meet you, Director.”
“Hello! So you’re Idel?”
Her appearance was quite distinctive. I knew her indirectly. She was the mother of one of the main characters, Mezlen Whiritia, director of the Southern Outer God Biology Research Institute, stood only 150 cm tall, was the matriarch of the Whiritia family—renowned masters of Outer God biology—and served as a joker card for the next leap forward.
From now on, I was going to thoroughly devour everything this woman possessed.
“My daughter told me a lot about you. Said you’re an incredible genius?”
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
“How modest. A college student who published two first-author papers in Universe?”
“Ahaha…”
I laughed awkwardly and followed her. When we reached the director’s office, Director Whiritia spun around and slid the door open with a smooth motion. Through the wide gap, a mountain of enormous minerals came into view. A cluster of gems that shone in every color and somehow felt as if they were pulling you in.
“Trapezohedron…”
“—and its priority chiral form, to be precise.”
It hadn’t appeared in the original story. A substance the protagonist’s perspective could never have seen. The director walked over with quick steps and picked up a piece of the trapezohedron. Even though she held it with her bare hand, she showed no signs of being infected by an Outer God.
— The Outer Gods inside your head open their eyes wide.
— The ‘God of Wisdom and Curiosity’ sparkles with interest.
I was wondering what principle was at work when Director Whiritia began her explanation.
“Even with the same compound, some substances polarize light in exactly opposite directions. A representative example would be ketamine?”
“Ketamine? Isn’t that a drug?”
“Correct. One version is used as a painkiller, but the mirror-image version causes anxiety and acts as a poison. Do you know what we call these?”
Optical isomers. In physicists’ terms, they are substances that exhibit parity symmetry. Left-handed and right-handed. Just as a right hand becomes a left hand in a mirror, the effect a trapezohedron has on humans changes depending on whether it is left-handed or right-handed—that was her claim.
“Sinistral—that is, left-handed trapezohedrons—are the ones inhabited by Outer Gods. Dangerous. Never to be touched.”
“I’d imagine so.”
“On the other hand, dextral trapezohedrons are incredible new materials. They can freely alter permittivity and permeability, and by stacking their structures regularly, they can be turned into metamaterials with various properties. They even possess topological characteristics, so they can be used as semiconductors, insulators, or superconductors. With this, we should be able to create the ‘trap’ you mentioned in your email.”
Her claims had already been established as fact through experiments and were on the verge of patent application. But they had been blocked right at the doorstep.
“The Outer God Management Bureau absolutely refuses to grant permission. They say they can’t allow unverified dangerous substances into industrial sites.”
“…I’d probably say the same thing.”
The manufacturing process itself was already suspicious. Trapezohedrons are objects from a higher dimension and cannot be obtained in nature. Therefore, one must first acquire an original trapezohedron and then manipulate it to flip its parity. But anyone who encounters a trapezohedron is guaranteed to become infected. Once infected, they go mad. And once mad, they cannot continue research.
“A contradiction…” I thought. Director Whiritia, perched on the edge of her desk, gave a small smile.
“There’s a method, of course.”
Translation: You don’t need to know.
“A scientist should always explore new possibilities, shouldn’t she? It may be frightening at first, but sometimes a bold spirit of challenge is necessary. That is how knowledge is pioneered.”
“Director.”
“Yes? What is it?”
“You’re not toying with people, are you?”