11. Wonderland (36)
11. Wonderland (36)
Our god feasts his eyes on delight and falls fast asleep, drunk on the spectacle!
While his dreams hold him, this world stays safe.
But once he opens his eyes—everything ends.
Faced with the cosmic-scale horror the Apostles were describing, Scarecrow's head swam.
The colossal presence radiating from the thing coiled far below pinned him in place.
Nobody else seemed half as shaken. They didn't appear to be taking the Apostles' explanation seriously at all.
Ella even had the nerve to toss out a breezy comment.
"Our god feels like the biggest boss around, and honestly, I'm good with that."
The others nodded along as if she'd said something obvious and started cracking jokes about Kirkeus.
"Most of those eyes are shut. Think the show's so boring he's dozing?"
"Lord Kirkeus! Now that we've met face to face, hit me up! Bless me with some Inspira!"
Demon God or primordial Chaos—either way, it was a being impossibly distant from human concerns. The one thing that never changed was that their god loved a good show.
Everyone except Rumi and Maya seemed content with that cheerful conclusion.
How could they be this calm?
Their casual reaction caught Scarecrow off guard. But as he watched them banter, he began to grasp how they were actually processing the revelation.
"In a few hundred years, a solar storm will engulf the Earth." "If the bees die off, global famine follows." "When the super-eruption begins, eighty percent of the crust will be annihilated."
It was the same way ordinary people absorb scientists' warnings about vague future catastrophes.
The people here had grown up just as sick and tired of doomsday talk about the Demon Gods as anyone on Earth was about ecological collapse. To them, the secret the Apostles had unveiled boiled down to "if Kirkeus gets bored of the show, he'll smash the world."
Far from looking disappointed, the Apostles nodded as though they'd expected exactly this.
"Living like that is better for everyone. Anxiety, suspicion, a pessimistic heart—they only strengthen the link between the Abyss and the world. That's why you mustn't teach secrets like this to the living carelessly."
"Then why are you telling us?"
Maya's expression was rigid as she asked.
Just as the Apostles were about to answer, someone hauled himself over the edge of the iron platform.
"Whoop."
He was as big as Umon, his whole body covered in blue fur.
"Oberon?"
Rumi recognized him and stepped forward. Ruelo evidently remembered him too—she ducked behind her father.
Scarecrow had heard the name Oberon before. He was the leader of A Midsummer Night's Circus, the one who'd made a duel wager with Clara.
"Whoa—since when've you been here, sis?"
"What are you doing here?"
He hadn't been around during their stay at Midsummer Night. That was why they'd negotiated directly with Deputy Leader Puck.
To think he'd turn up in a place like this.
Oberon shrugged, hefting the sack in his hand.
"Just got back from sprinkling Lord Sandman's powder over Sleeping Chaos. I'm the only one around here who's good enough at hypnosis and illusion to defend against the psychic attacks that thing emits."
He tossed the sack to the floor and pulled a cigar from inside his coat, lighting up. Then he turned toward the Apostles.
"So these are the people you were escorting. You told them everything?"
"Not yet. We were just about to start."
Crazy Hatter sent several hats spinning at once, gathered his thoughts, and spoke.
"I should explain the Circus Grand Prix first. As you're aware, a performance by the living is dozens of times more effective than one by the dead. The very dimension of 'vividness' differs. But the living carry a weakness: they're far away from Kirkeus."
He stood at the edge of the iron platform and pointed below.
One of Sleeping Chaos's eyes was staring fixedly at images floating before it. The footage set against Wonderland was crystal-clear, but the performances set on the surface were hazy.
"Even so, we managed to maintain a fair balance—until a few decades ago. That's when the influence of surface performances on Kirkeus began to weaken sharply."
"Why?"
"That... w-well, even we don't know."
Crazy Hatter's expression turned faintly sheepish as he stumbled over his words.
"In any case, the cause isn't what matters. The problem is that Kirkeus has begun opening his eyes more often because of it. So he created a tool to let him peer more closely at the world. A sort of magnifying lens, if you will."
Hobbs spoke up as if something had clicked.
"The Eye of Kirkeus."
"Correct. Though we refer to those gemstones as 'Trill.' The term Eye of Kirkeus originally means something else."
"Something else?"
Diamond Queen fielded that question.
Her single jeweled eye glittered as she spoke.
"This goes far back. Long ago, Kirkeus grew so frustrated watching shows from a distance that he selected humans to act as his 'eyes.' The Eye of Kirkeus originally referred to those people. As recently as a hundred years ago, there were thousands of them across the Columbia Continent."
"'Were'?"
Apostle Strauss swept his baton and scribbled numbers into the air.
"In the last ten years the count has plummeted! We don't know why! We don't even know who the Eyes of Kirkeus are! They're utterly indistinguishable to the naked eye! All we can do is tally the frequency of the 'images' transmitted from down there and deduce that the number is falling."
"That matter is unrelated to the creation of the Trill. The Trill was created about twenty years ago. In any case, Earth's Acrobats who created it launched a competition called the Circus Grand Prix—a grand-scale 'rite' meant to lull Kirkeus back to sleep. It was a stroke of genius. Kirkeus was able to slumber deeply for quite some time. However..."
"The terror attack."
Maya's eyes glinted coldly as she said it.
Crazy Hatter nodded.
"You're a sharp one. Yes. As you know, the Grand Prix came to an end after its second edition. The Trill was destroyed too. Worse, the acrobats died in droves. Consequently, the frequency with which surface performances could soothe Kirkeus dropped sharply. That's why we Apostles are all tied up with the ritual to keep him asleep. Most of us are still at it, even now."
He pointed at the black sphere floating in the center of the cavern.
Dozens of faint silhouettes swam within it.
"Then why are you out here? Too junior for the rotation?"
Ella's joke made Diamond Queen snap.
"We take turns resting!"
"Whoa, scary auntie. Easy, easy."
"Ha ha ha! She actually was the youngest until twenty years ago! Two more Apostles have joined since then, so she's finally off the bottom rung!"
"Strauss! You didn't have to mention that!"
Watching Diamond Queen and Strauss bicker, Crazy Hatter gave a wry smile.
"Even when we're 'outside,' we aren't exactly resting—we're buried in administrative work until our eyes pop out. On top of that, as Diamond Queen mentioned earlier, the Eyes of Kirkeus started vanishing about ten years ago. That's driven us to our limit. The one saving grace is that the Circus Grand Prix is being revived. The Trill's restoration helps too. It's taken some weight off our shoulders. But the other Demon Gods have caught the scent."
"Other Demon Gods?"
"They've been attacking Wonderland!"
Ella tilted her head at Strauss's words, plainly not following.
"But if Kirkeus wakes up, everybody dies, right? Even the Demon Gods?"
"Don't try to parse the actions of Demon Gods with a human mind. Their very existence is 'concept' itself. The Demon God of Destruction, the Demon God of War, the Demon God of Silence—they've always schemed to unravel the cosmic order. The Voodoo Madosa were merely following their god's commands without really knowing the why. If they'd understood, they'd never have obeyed so readily. A Demon God and a Madosa are ultimately bound by a contract of mutual profit."
"Even so, we're fortunate that some Demon Gods aid Wonderland. Time Demon God Lutermine is the chief example. The slow passage of time here is thanks to her temporal barrier."
"And that's also the reason you can't return right away! Numerous barriers protect Wonderland at present. Only selected spectators may enter. I've no idea what chain of coincidences let you slip through a closed door, but we cannot open the door back. If a gap opened in the barrier, the other Demon Gods might seize the chance to attack. With this many eyes open, an assault would be far too dangerous."
Reina fixed him with a hard look.
"So you're telling us we have to keep living here?"
The listeners' attitude had shifted markedly from the beginning. Now that concrete concerns like the Grand Prix terror attack were tangled up in the tale, the whole mood had grown serious.
"That's precisely where the request we want to make comes in."
Crazy Hatter and Diamond Queen turned toward Strauss.
Grinning proudly, he flourished his baton.
"I've composed a lullaby!"
"A... lullaby?"
After such weighty talk, the word felt absurdly soft.
Strauss waddled forward, thick rump and belly swaying.
"I, together with Apostles who share a profound devotion to music, have created a song that can lull Kirkeus itself into slumber. However, an Apostle's performance cannot stimulate Kirkeus. So we planned to select five players through the festival. Ah, but now. There's no longer any need to hold that competition. Reina, was it? Your performance soared leagues beyond the standard we'd set."
"The resonance of the living..."
Ruelo murmured a phrase she'd heard several times since arriving here.
Strauss pointed his baton at her and gave a wink.
"Exactly, little miss! Nothing is stronger than the resonance of the living. If the living, here in Wonderland, deliver the lullaby, Kirkeus will surely be lulled deep and long. He might even sleep right through the day of the Grand Prix finals! At any rate, if you can shut every last one of his eyes, we'll open the door home for you! Once Kirkeus is sound asleep, Wonderland can withstand a few holes in its defenses for quite a while!"
"But... does it have to be us? What about the troupe leaders? Wouldn't they be better?"
Karen's voice was thin with doubt.
"The leaders have such long stage histories that their Personas are too deeply developed. It's affected their very bodies."
At that, Hobbs and Minova glanced at themselves.
True to his nickname "the Immovable," Hobbs's feet were encased in something resembling boots with roots spreading out like tree limbs in every direction. Minova's hair and beard drooped with actual comb-like flesh. Far above them, Lord Fantastic stood with a flamboyantly patterned mustache and gold membranes—like a flying squirrel's—stretched between his arms and waist.
"That won't produce a pure resonance of the living. It's better if you perform, since your Personas are still immature. We want Kirkeus to sleep as long as possible. Of course, if it comes down to it, we adults will have to step in."
The group exchanged glances.
There wasn't much to debate.
Play Kirkeus a lullaby.
That was the new task laid before the Five Acrobats.