The Guy Writing a Thesis in Prison (4)
[7:28 a.m.] “It’ll be fine. Everything will work out. Nothing bad is going to happen……”
[Inmate No. 888887. Engaging in incomprehensible self-reassurance. Signs of severe anxiety detected.]
At 7:30 a.m., I skipped the morning run and left my cell later than usual, heading for the cafeteria.
“Hm?”
For the first time, I ended up at the same table as the girl from the next cell over. Right beside her, no less. I’d barely seen her during meals and had started wondering if a Darwin-type Outer God had possessed her, but apparently not. She must have simply eaten at different times or hidden somewhere to eat alone.
“Please… there has to be a way. I need to get out of here somehow.”
She sounded unhinged, but I quickly tuned her out. Plenty of people here talked to themselves. What mattered was the paper. I laid the printed thesis beside me and stirred my soup while reading.
Today’s menu was bear soup with rice and pan-fried tofu. Food in this world was surprisingly varied—dishes from both East and West appeared without discrimination. It had given me quite the range of culinary experiences. Sometimes, though, fried insects showed up and made me grimace.
I reminisced while swirling my spoon.
“Hoo, hoo……”
The girl beside me slowly lifted her soup bowl, blew on it to clear the steam, and prepared to eat. Her grip on the spoon looked awkward.
“Ah……!”
In that instant, Future Sight showed me the girl’s bear soup performing a tap dance across the table. Bear soup. Thesis. Bear soup. Thesis. Bear soup. Thesis. Whoosh—
And then—crash.
Following Newton’s laws of motion, the bowl would slide, spin, and tip over. Its path led straight to me and my precious paper.
Damn it. No way. Even if my thigh got burned, I had to protect the thesis. How to handle this? I decided to rely on the reflexes drilled into me by Rustilla and Instructor Isaac.
I caught the tilting soup bowl with my spoon. It stopped.
Success. The worst-case scenario—my paper getting drenched in bear soup—had been averted. Unfortunately, the second-worst scenario was already unfolding.
“……What do you think you’re doing?”
The girl was glaring at me.
Normally I would have apologized and left. After all, I was a gentle, peace-loving humanitarian.
— The God of Wisdom and Curiosity tilts her head.
But!
“My thesis nearly got soaked because of you.”
That, I could never forgive. Printing paper was already restricted enough—losing even one precious sheet was infuriating.
“Focus on your meal instead of spacing out.”
“What the hell are you saying, you pervert?”
“Pervert……?”
Did I hear that right? Me? A pervert?
“You tried to touch my food. Everyone can see you were aiming for an indirect kiss. Honestly, I should’ve known better than to associate with uneducated men like you.”
“……Are you insane?”
I frowned and stood up, taking my beloved seventy-four-page review paper (reviewed by Professor Feynman himself) with me.
“Come along, Thesis. This place isn’t refined enough for you.”
“……Are you insane?”
Who was calling whom insane? Laughable. Talking to a woman who casually accused people of sexual assault was a waste of time.
I scanned the cafeteria for another seat. Damn it—none left. While I’d been distracted, the place had filled up completely. Slow eaters and lunatics everywhere. This really wasn’t a place to linger.
I shoveled down a few bites of tofu and bear soup, then dumped my tray. The decision came back to haunt me in the form of hunger.
Grumble.
“Ah, I’m starving.”
After the unsatisfying breakfast, I headed to the computer room, but my stomach remained empty. I tried to work on the thesis, yet concentration eluded me. On top of that, I had to monitor for any inmates showing signs of madness and report them to the guards. Truly busy work.
“What’s that guy doing now?”
A man in one of the cells suddenly approached the wall, lifted a poster, and dropped his pants. A hole. A shallow, tunnel-like hole had been dug there. In his hand was a piece of tofu—God knew where he’d hidden it.
“O Outer God……”
I rubbed my face. Looking any longer would ruin my eyes. I pressed the alarm button without hesitation.
Wheeeeeeeng—!
Fortunately, the man was subdued quickly. That kind of disgusting behavior was typical of Darwin-types—the most violent and cruel faction. If Rustilla was to survive the coming waves of tardigrade-like creatures in the south, she had to make it. No one else could stop them.
“Haa.”
Freedom came with responsibilities, apparently. How long would I have to witness this nonsense? Thinking back, the girl’s hostility toward me made a little more sense now.
Guard Weizel, who had just finished enthusiastically beating the man’s head, saluted me with respect.
“You’re doing an excellent job, student. I’m almost in awe.”
“Thank you for saying so.”
“Sorry about the mail from your girlfriend. She seems to be waiting eagerly. I feel bad I couldn’t send it sooner.”
Weizel patted my shoulder and laughed.
“Still, at this rate you’ll be back in society soon. Hang in there.”
“Ah, yes.”
This guy was thriving. He was being so friendly because I was handling all the paperwork he was supposed to report upstairs.
“I’d like to give you a reward. Is there anything you want? Any improvements you’d like to suggest?”
Somehow the dynamic had flipped—I was no longer the one currying favor; he was currying favor with me.
“Then, may I eat my meals here every day?”
“Why?”
“Commuting from the cell is too bothersome.”
Especially because of that black-haired, black-eyed girl in the cell to my left. Her nightly sobbing had been driving me crazy lately. Even with the LED lamp on, I couldn’t focus on my research notes because of how loud she was.
Guard Weizel scratched his head.
“So…… you want to eat, sleep, and do everything here? Basically get rid of the prison altogether.”
“You already gave me the prison keys. If I have the keys, why should I stay locked up? I’m not a criminal. I’m just an ordinary citizen who happens to be sane.”
“That does make sense.”
Weizel grinned. I smiled back. We both knew we were dreaming different dreams, but what did it matter? He was happy to be free of overwork, and I was happy to have computer access in exchange for doing his chores. The important thing was that we had entered a symbiotic relationship.
Good. Time to check today’s mail……
Ding!
— The presence of the Outer God “Orchestra of Mud and Flesh” has been detected. (Location: Inside Alcatraz Prison)
What was this?
After hearing Cartesia’s follow-up, I tilted my head. This was Alcatraz—a planetary system located in a space where the Ether Belt was abnormally folded. Thanks to the unusually high ether concentration, Outer Gods could leave freely but could not enter. Moreover, staying here for long periods was like drinking radioactive tea every day for a human.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
I sighed. Popurus, the Outer God known as “Orchestra of Mud and Flesh.” Dying to that thing here was unacceptable. Yet ignoring the mastermind behind the Celestine incident would be reckless.
“Ah, I need to write my thesis.”
I had felt relatively safe in Alcatraz, but I hadn’t expected this kind of headache.
Creak.
The sound of an Outer God rising from a chair echoed faintly in my mind. Her voice followed.
— The God of Wisdom and Curiosity has temporarily closed the channel connecting to you.
“……”
She left?
“Hoo.”
It was becoming clearer by the day. Cartesia wanted me to create the Graviton Bomb, and she seemed to have a particularly bad relationship with other Outer Gods—even those of the same Descartes faction. Combining these two pieces of information, her goal was singular.
Suicide.
The transcendent was searching for a way to die.
***
Cartesia entered the mind of a girl in search of Popurus.
A pitch-black space of nothingness. Contrary to the description, it wasn’t truly empty. The imaginary space was a world that expressed an Outer God’s psyche—thus, it was also their true territory. Perhaps because both the human and the true body could exist simultaneously, the word “nothingness” felt inappropriate; the space was bustling.
Yes—bustling. There were at least twenty Outer Gods present. Some looked like grotesque assemblies of electronic devices, while others dripped rotten flesh. The former belonged to the Maxwell faction, the latter to the Darwin faction. Even fellow Descartes-type Outer Gods were here. Most of her kin appeared as cloud-like forms contained within flasks.
‘This girl…… what exactly is she?’
Cartesia felt interest toward a human other than Eidel for the first time in a while. It wasn’t primal curiosity, however. This girl had a clear limit on her Fron value. Being contracted by multiple Outer Gods was rare, but not incomprehensible even to her. The interest quickly faded.
Cartesia’s sole target was Popurus—the one who had angered her.
Thud!
The next moment, Cartesia’s body was sent flying through the air.
“Well, well. Look who it is.”
A chuckling voice. From the darkness emerged a being resembling a television screen.
“The half-baked Outer God who can only take the form of a lowly mortal?”
“……Sapaul.”
Its head was a monitor. Below it hung a cloth like a teru teru bozu. Yet the wires coiling around it like snakes were unsettling. Outer Gods took such grotesque and incomprehensible forms—unlike Cartesia, who had a human shape.
“It’s been a while.”
“I’m not idle enough to exchange pleasantries with a wretch abandoned even by her own kin.”
“I didn’t come to see a bastard like you either.”
Cartesia brushed off her clothes and rose naturally.
“Where’s Popurus?”
“You mean the newborn Outer God who caused trouble in your galaxy’s south? Truly foolish, even if it was our kin.”
At that moment, two other Outer Gods dragged something forward. Severed tentacles. Red-glowing wires. Black blood oozing like thick oil.
It was undoubtedly Popurus.
“It dared to touch the exile zone, so we gave it a little lesson.”
“Do you have no minimum courtesy even toward your own kind?”
“Courtesy? Sorry, but that word isn’t in our faction’s dictionary.”
Shrrrk!
Arrow-tipped wires emerged from beneath Sapaul’s cloth and pierced Popurus’s entire body. The half-dead Popurus rolled before Cartesia.
“We don’t need it, so take it. And get lost yourself while you’re at it.”
“……Hey, this is my territory.”
“You consider an exile zone your territory? How absurd.”
“Get out of my domain right now. Otherwise……”
“Otherwise what?”
Snicker snicker snicker.
The Outer Gods laughed in unison. An earthquake began in the imaginary space. The girl outside could be heard groaning in pain.
“If you’re weaker than me, get lost. Don’t interfere with our entertainment.”
“Entertainment?”
“This girl is quite fun to play with. There are no scraps for the weak.”
Cartesia furrowed her brow. Dragging Popurus by the collar, she returned to Eidel’s mind. Popurus, flung from her imaginary space, vomited thick blood.
“We transcendent ones have immortal bodies. Isn’t that right, Popurus?”
“Kuh, kuhk.”
“So I’ve been thinking. If someone touches my plans or my vessel, how should I deal with them?”
“Please, stop. Stop…… kuhk!”
Popurus’s tentacles around its neck were seized. Cartesia’s eyes glowed blue.
“You see, I’m low on Fron right now. I want to stay by Eidel’s side, but as you know, the air here is foul. I can’t synthesize Fron at all.”
“W-what are you trying to do……!”
“It’s simple.”
Cartesia chuckled as she grabbed his tentacles.
“From now on, you’ll be my Fron tank.”
Omega-rank Transformation: <Transformation>
<Transformation>—one of the noblest skills of Descartes-type Outer Gods. Its range was vast. It could change any race, any thought. It transformed everything.
Caught in Cartesia’s grasp, Popurus could only thrash and groan.
“First, I’ll change your body. If you want to hold water in a vessel, you have to wash the vessel first, don’t you?”
Popurus’s body underwent transformation. Its glossy tentacles gradually disappeared, and limbs sprouted from its grotesquely linear torso. Popurus stared in horror at its changing form.
“I-I’m becoming a lower lifeform……!”
“What gender should I make you? Yes, a female body would be good.”
Outer Gods had almost no concept of gender, but Popurus had been a strongly masculine Outer God. It had enjoyed taking, conquering, and burning—never disliked it. Now that same being was transforming into a demure, frail human girl.
“T-this is insane……! No! I don’t want this!”
— 500 Fron has been extracted.
The mechanical voice grew fainter, the tone thinner. Cartesia pulled out tentacles to form breasts and wove wires into hips. The Outer God had become human-like.
“Haha, quite the masterpiece.”
“D-don’t be ridiculous! How dare you turn me into a lower species—and a worthless female at that……!”
— 500 Fron has been extracted.
Yes, panic more. The more you do, the more relaxed I become. Good—next, what should I change?
“……Ah, something convenient just came to mind.”
Omega-rank Transformation: <Binding>
The <Binding> skill she had suffered during the Celestine incident. Cartesia had always wondered what would happen if she used it on Popurus.
“N-no. Not that. Anything but Binding!”
The girl, having nearly exhausted her Outer God power, cried out miserably. But Cartesia was the God of Wisdom and Curiosity.
“If I use <Binding> for mental remodeling, what will happen?”
A question had arisen.
“Well? Aren’t you curious? No matter what happens, it must be resolved.”
“N-no! Don’t! Master! I’ll call you Master! Please, so just not Binding……!”
With Popurus’s strange scream, Cartesia finally regained peace of mind.
— Successfully extracted 20,000 Fron.
It wasn’t a large amount, but it was something. Cartesia looked down at the lower realm.
“Heh, hehe. Eheheh.”
Eidel was searching for his thesis with an inexplicable laugh. He looked utterly content. She hoped the weapon he aimed for would be completed as soon as possible.
Thinking this, Cartesia slowly lifted the leash that had just formed around Popurus’s neck due to the effect of <Binding>.