I've Been Waiting for You

I had a place to return to now. Even so, I couldn't quite bring myself to press the button right away.

First I picked up the socks I'd kicked off beside the bed. There was no grand reason behind it—it just felt wrong to walk into a place like that in bare feet and slippers. As I pressed the crushed heels of my sneakers back into shape, I caught myself growing oddly impatient.

First, just go take a look. Moving my things, contacting the landlord—that could all come after.

...I can come back, though. Right?

I pulled up the section on entry and exit, and only after confirming that I could return to my previous location did I get to my feet.

I pressed the button.

Nothing flashed before my eyes, and nothing pulled me upward. It was only when I drew my next breath that I noticed the smell had changed.

Wet earth and grass.

The yellowed linoleum beneath my feet had become a pale stone path.

"...Huh."

My laces were still loose and the dust on my cuffs exactly where I'd left it. The only thing different was the breeze, stirring those cuffs gently as it slipped past.

I raised my head.

Beyond a vine-wrapped arch, a flower-lined path stretched away. Every time the wind passed, the white flower beds turned over in silver, and across a small lake stood a building like a temple.

For a while, I couldn't make myself step out from under the arch.

This was the place I'd seen in the preview. I'd chosen it knowing full well what it was, yet standing inside it now, I had no idea where to look first.

I looked at the lake, then at the building, then back down at my own feet. No matter how many times I blinked, the scenery stayed put.

"All of this... is mine?"

Saying the whole sentence out loud felt strange. After standing at the entrance like someone who'd come to the wrong house, I carefully set one foot forward.

Only then did a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠blue glow along the path catch my eye.

I crouched down in front of the flowers.

Inside their thin petals, tiny lights like stars had gathered. Wondering if it was only reflected sunlight, I cupped a hand over them for shade, but the light didn't go out.

If anything, it showed up better.

"So they really do glow."

I started to take a photo, then stopped and lifted my head instead.

There was no ceiling over me.

And yet, only moments ago, I'd been standing beneath one that felt close enough to touch if I just reached out.

I took one long, deep breath.

"It's real."

"There's an AI too?"

As I read through the window, my gaze slipped past it. Water glittered at one end ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of the lake, and there were even bridges too small to have shown up in the preview.

Below the notice, smaller text said the basic facilities could be used whether or not I activated anything.

Then I might as well go inside and turn it on there.

I pressed [Defer Setup].

The window shrank and retreated to one side of my vision. My fingertips had touched nothing, yet it had responded exactly as intended—fascinated, I unfolded it and folded it up once more.

It worked.

All right. Sightseeing first, then.

The flower path ran along the lake all the way to the residential building.

It looked like a walk I could finish in no time, but I kept drifting off down the side paths.

Beneath one tree, palm-sized fruit hung floating in the air. Only up close could I see stems thinner than hair running from them to the branches. They weren't dangling down—they stretched their stems taut upward, like balloons.

When I nudged one with a fingertip, it slid aside, then drifted slowly back into place.

"...Are those actually fruit?"

Only after poking them one more time did I move on.

At the lakeside, I stopped to peer down into the water. The bottom was so clear I took the lake for shallow, but the rocks there stepped down in tiers like stairs, continuing a long way below.

There would probably be a spot with an even better view farther along.

Only after rounding the water's edge and reaching a small patch of shade did I look back. The entrance arch had vanished behind the trees. For someone who'd meant to head straight home, I'd taken quite the detour.

I paused and took a single photo. The house I'd been staring at in the shop preview minutes ago was now sitting in my camera roll.

Who would believe me if I said I lived here?

Out of habit, I opened the gallery app—and my hand stopped.

Right. No.

After all that worrying about my identity being exposed, I'd nearly posted a picture of my own house the second I arrived.

Instead of photos, I looked through the list of posts.

That would be me.

The comment that had gotten it right was sitting at three downvotes.

Still, I went ahead and left a single upvote before closing the window. I had no intention of explaining myself. As long as plenty of people kept coming around, it was a net gain for me either way.

When I slid my phone back into my pocket, my right calf pulled tight.

I hadn't noticed it while I was wandering and poking at everything, but now that I'd stopped, the strain was settling into my leg. Better to rest a little before the residential building.

There happened to be a low seat by the path, so I made my way over.

It was a little strange for a bench. A long chair of smooth stone, with no legs at all—through the gap beneath the seat, I could see the far side of the flower path.

I bent down.

It really was floating.

I pressed on it with my hand. It didn't budge. I pushed a little harder; same result.

This was a place that kept a plot of land the size of a whole city aloft. A chair or two hovering off the ground was hardly strange.

All the same, I sat down carefully.

The chair didn't tilt even under my full weight. The backrest, which had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠looked like solid stone, gave slightly when I leaned into it.

My hand brushed the armrest, and small letters floated up.

The destination list offered the garden entrance, the lake observation deck, and the residential building's front entrance.

"So this was never just a chair."

I selected the residential building.

The moment I confirmed, a thin platform unfolded beneath my feet.

As soon as both feet were on it, the seat began to move.

"Whoa—wha—"

I grabbed the armrests on reflex.

The seat cruised along at walking pace, following the flower path. There was no jolt, no push against my back. If the path hadn't been gliding away beneath me, I might never have known it was moving at all.

Only after my nerves had settled a little did the speed control catch my eye.

I raised it one notch. The flower beds drifted past a little faster.

I moved to raise it another notch, then stopped. I had no desire to crash into anything inside my own home on day one.

When I reached the bridge at the lake's end, I pressed stop.

A waterway ran on beneath it.

Except there was no land anywhere for the water to flow to.

I stepped off the seat and gripped the railing.

The waterfall spilling from the garden's edge stretched out long into open air. Far, far below it, a layer of clouds lay spread flat.

The pit of my stomach went cold.

Fifty kilometers.

Reading it as a number, I hadn't really understood. Now I didn't want to take my hand off the railing.

"...Hold on. This water?"

It kept pouring.

What would happen if there was a house down there?

I tracked the stream with my eyes. The waterfall, drawn out long on its way down, thinned at some point and vanished into a haze of mist. Below that lay nothing but clear, empty air.

"Where does it go?"

I shifted along the railing, but no matter where I stood, I couldn't see the end of it.

The description had said it wouldn't affect the surrounding terrain, so it surely wasn't falling all the way to the ground like that. Even so, watching it pour away endlessly right in front of me, I couldn't help being curious. I'd have to ask the AI about this one too, once I turned it on.

I let go of the railing and returned to the seat. Touring the house was shaping up to take longer than I'd thought.

The seat stopped in front of the residential building.

The moment I stepped off, the platform folded itself away. I pressed [Return] on the armrest, and the empty chair headed back down the flower path all on its own.

Though I'd ridden it here just moments ago, I watched its retreating back for a long while.

From now on, if my leg acted up on a walk, I could simply call that thing over.

Turning around, I saw an enormous door.

One step closer, and gold light spread along the vine pattern engraved into the doors. With a low resonant hum, the twin panels swung inward.

The doors stood several times my height.

I needlessly smoothed down my rumpled clothes.

Waiting there for the doors to open all the way, it felt as though someone inside ought to be calling my name.

Of course, no one did.

Alone, I stepped across the broad threshold.

Beyond the doors lay a soaring hall and a black pool of water. Light streaming in between the pillars lay shimmering across its surface.

It had looked like a temple from the outside; from the inside, even more so.

Leaving dusty footprints across that floor would have felt wrong.

I sat on the seat beside the entrance and took off my sneakers. There was room for my shoes next to a pair of white house slippers.

I had just lined the sneakers up side by side and was starting to rise when they floated.

"Huh?"

I reached out, then froze.

A faint light swept beneath my sneakers, which hung about two knuckles off the ground. The dirt caked onto the soles crumbled apart. Instead of falling to the floor, the dust followed the light, gathering into a slender ribbon that dissolved into the air.

The loose laces fluttered once.

A moment later, the shoes settled soundlessly back down.

I picked one up. The grime between the laces, the ground-in dirt in the sole treads—all of it was gone. I slipped a hand inside; dry and fresh.

The faded color and worn-down heels were exactly as before. These were unmistakably my old, beat-up shoes, and yet I couldn't remember them ever having been this clean.

I set them back where they'd been.

This time, nothing happened.

Because they were already clean, maybe.

I gave the empty spot one sweep of my palm and put on the house slippers.

Beside the hall, there was a place to sit facing the lake.

I set my phone down on the table and went looking for water first.

On the shelf sat a clear glass and a coaster etched with a pattern of water drops.

When I set the glass on it, tiny droplets beaded up at the bottom.

The droplets merged into a single surface. Though no water flowed in from anywhere, the level climbed—and then stopped at exactly the right height for drinking.

I lifted the glass and checked the bottom. No holes.

I took a sip. It was cool.

When I set the half-drunk glass back down, the water began filling again. This time I lifted it midway. In my hand, the level held perfectly still.

The moment I set it back down, the water resumed rising from where it had left off.

I looked back and forth between the glass and the coaster.

I was beginning to see why there hadn't been a single faucet anywhere in this house.

When I pressed the little building-shaped ornament next to the shelf, a blueprint made of light unfolded in the air.

Behind the hall were the kitchen and a dining space; on the opposite side, a bathroom and a bedroom. It looked as though everything a person needed for daily life was already in place.

I shrank the blueprint, and the flower path and lake appeared. I shrank it further, and a broad stretch of empty land opened up all around them.

The path I had walked was nothing more than a single short line at the very edge.

"I've only seen this much of it?"

I tapped the empty ground.

A list of facilities unfolded.

Floating flower beds that layered gardens into the air at several heights. A rain corridor that would let it rain only over a section of your choosing.

I was skimming through a few when my hand stopped.

The photo showed nothing but a floor and a few round rings. No roof, no walls—and they called it an observatory.

I tried placing it on the empty lot beside the residential building.

In that instant, a colossal ring appeared outside the window.

"Huh?"

I got to my feet.

Three rings, tilted at an angle, floated above the lawn. Inside them, in place of the midday sky, the stars were out in full.

Had I hit the install button?

I checked the window in a hurry.

Only then did I make out the trees showing faintly through beyond the rings.

I let out my breath. It was overlaying the finished look for me.

When I changed the preview's observation target, a blue planet rose inside the rings.

I enlarged it a little.

The planet's rim swelled out past the rings, and the whorls of its clouds filled the space in front of the house.

My finger stopped.

I could walk in there, and see it from the inside?

It would be nothing like looking at a model. This was something worth poring over for hours even as a photograph—and I could spread it out all around me and walk through it.

I moved the observatory to a more distant plot, and the lake came back into view.

Parked about there, it wouldn't be visible from the bedroom. Would I need a path out to it at night, too? Or maybe I could just ride that chair from earlier.

Then I looked at the price.

I was still a long, long way short.

I closed the preview. The planet and rings disappeared, and the lawn came back.

Only minutes ago I'd been wondering what anyone could possibly do with all that empty land.

After seeing just a handful of entries on a list, I already resented leaving it bare.

For now, I added the observatory to my favorites. It was time to finish looking around the house.

That was when the familiar notice window unfolded beside the blueprint.

The timing was uncannily good.

The moment I got stuck fiddling with things on my own, it slid in front of me as if it had been waiting. The line about helping with facility guidance stood out to me this time more than anything else.

It felt like it was stepping forward, saying: look here—I can be the one to show you.

Every time I pressed something myself, something answered, and features I'd never known about kept popping up; I was losing track of time.

I pressed the bedroom on the blueprint. It was close by.

I'd go see just that much and come back to turn it on.

There was no problem using the basic facilities, either. The things I didn't know, I could gather up and ask about all at once later.

I pressed [Defer Setup].

One more line appeared beneath the window.

Busy checking the direction of the bedroom, I didn't read the last line.

The bedroom had a window overlooking a courtyard, and a wide bed.

Thankfully, it wasn't the kind of bed that required learning a whole new way to lie down.

I sat down on its edge and ran my hand over the covers. Soft and dry.

Maybe I'd lie down for just a second.

Once I'd slipped off the slippers and lain back, my thinking shifted a little.

Fine—a little longer than a second, then.

I settled my right leg into a comfortable position and buried my head in the pillow.

There were still things left to do.

I had to move ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠my things, and contact the landlord. I'd need to think, separately, about how to pay back the money I owed.

But even if I went out to handle all of that—now, at least, there was somewhere to come back to.

I'd meant to look at the bed and head straight out, but I didn't want to peel my back off the mattress.

I set the phone I'd been holding down beside me. I'd just close my eyes for a moment.

I buried my head a little deeper into the pillow.

There was no need to prick up my ears for shouting in the alley below, no need to count the footsteps crossing the ceiling above.

I'd planned to rest for a moment, but my body, it turned out, was far more worn out than I was.

My thoughts slowed almost at once.

Ah. I still have to move my stuff.

When I get up, that comes first...

The folded-up notice window was still there, lingering at the edge of my vision.

Beneath it, the sentence I had never read was still attached.

In the end, without ever managing to exchange a single greeting, I fell asleep.