Athena
I opened my eyes and stared up at the ceiling for a moment. It was unfamiliar. There were none of the usual water stains, none of the peeling wallpaper at the corner. When I turned my head, the courtyard showed beyond the window.
Ah. That's right — this was the place.
Only then did it come back to me: I'd been touring the garden and lain down on the bed. I'd meant to close my eyes for just a moment, and apparently sleep had taken me exactly like that.
I checked my phone. Not much time had passed since I'd lain down. I stretched and sat up slowly; even after so short a nap, my body felt noticeably lighter. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I drew my slippers over with the tips of my toes.
So — what now? I'd given the house a rough once-over, which meant I should probably head back to my old room and collect my things first. A few changes of clothes, a charger, toiletries — would that about cover it? Though I'd have to find out what was already provided here before I could make the trip without wasted effort.
I was turning that over when I looked up. One folded window still lingered at the edge of my vision.
Ah. This was supposed to come first. I'd told myself I'd switch it on the moment I got home, then wandered all the way to bed instead. There had also been something I meant to ask while I was watching the waterfall earlier.
Poking at things one by one on my own had been fun, but at this point a proper explanation sounded better.
I pulled the guide window forward. Garden maintenance, an overview of the residence facilities, daily-living support — the descriptions I'd skimmed past the first time, I read all the way through now. Would it answer if I asked out loud? Or would it find the right entry on its own?
I pressed the button.
I took my hand off the window and waited. I had expected the introduction to begin — I even straightened my posture — but no sound came.
Do I have to speak first?
"...Hello?"
There was no answer. I cleared my throat for no reason and studied the bottom of the frame. No new button waiting to be pressed, no little indicator claiming to be preparing.
I waited a little longer. Installing the garden had taken no time at all, and neither had moving here — but apparently a single greeting took longer than either.
"...Is it broken?"
Intending to reopen the window, I moved my hand toward the close mark. Just before my fingertip reached it, the mark vanished.
In its place, a single golden line drew itself through the air. I stopped.
The line sketched out a long, slender frame, leaving a pattern like the veins of a leaf in its wake. A pale blue light welled up inside — and then the figure of a woman standing within came into view, as though she had been waiting there all along.
A golden laurel wreath rested above her sky-blue hair. The strands framing her cheeks curved in soft arcs at their ends, and the locks falling past her shoulders lay folded over the hem of her white gown. Apart from the slender golden sash at her waist she wore no ornament at all — and still my eyes refused to move away.
Her eyes were closed. Beneath pale, long lashes, I could see lips neatly pressed together.
Just as I wondered whether I ought to say something, she opened her eyes. Clear azure eyes found me at once.
Our gazes met. For the briefest moment her lips parted; then they closed again, as if choosing her words, and she laid one hand over her chest.
"I am Athena, guardian of the Sky Garden and the Administrator's personal aide."
Her bow was neither slow nor hurried. That one short greeting was enough to make me, slouched at the foot of the bed, straighten my spine.
"I oversee the garden's facilities and its defenses, and I attend to your daily life."
Her voice was calm and clear. She raised her head.
"If there is anything you need in this place, please come to me."
I nodded a beat late.
"Ah — yeah. Looking forward to working with you."
It was a remarkably short answer to a prepared introduction, and adding anything more now would have felt awkward too.
Athena watched me for a moment, as if waiting to see whether I had more to say.
"Should I... give you my name too?"
"You have already been identified, Administrator."
Her gaze did not leave my face.
"Though if you wish to say it yourself, I will listen."
I couldn't tell whether that meant the information was unnecessary, or that an introduction would still be welcome. I rubbed the back of my neck, needlessly.
"Just call me whatever's comfortable. Administrator's fine."
"Understood, Administrator."
The same form of address — and yet it sounded somehow different than it had a moment ago.
I lowered my hands to my knees.
"Athena."
"Yes."
The reply came instantly. Her eyes lingered on me, as if confirming the name she'd just been called. I lost my next words for a second, then opened my mouth.
"Do you always show up looking like a person?"
"This is a visual interface for conversation. I have no separate physical body."
I leaned sideways, and her shoulder slipped out of view, cropped neatly along the frame's edge. She looked as vivid as someone standing in the room — but she was an image spread across empty air.
"You really seem like a person."
Athena tilted her head slightly.
"Does this form trouble you?"
"No. It's because I like it."
Only after the words were out did it occur to me that they might sound odd.
"I mean — it's easier to talk like this than to just have text floating in the air."
"That is the purpose this function was made for."
She pressed her fingertips together, neatly aligned.
"I will maintain it as it is."
I hadn't even asked her to change anything yet.
"Then why didn't you come on right away earlier?"
Athena's hands stopped.
"I thought you were broken."
"There was no problem with the activation itself."
"Yeah. It did say In Use."
"However, during the response process... there was a brief delay."
Her gaze slid aside, then came back to me.
"Everything is normal now."
And of course it happened right at the moment I tried to close the window.
When I glanced at the guide window I'd set down, Athena looked that way as well. The activation notice I had put off — twice now.
"Did you wait this whole time?"
"The briefing has been ready since the moment you arrived at the garden's entrance."
"Ah..."
Longer than I'd thought.
I went back over what I'd done in the garden. Admired the flowers, ridden the floating chair, poked through the facility previews at the house — and then slept, on top of it all.
"I kept putting it off while I looked around. Sorry for making you wait."
Athena didn't answer right away. Azure eyes traced my face; then she lowered her gaze and, slowly, brought down the hands she'd gathered at her chest.
"It was not a briefing sent to hurry you along."
"Still, I should've started with a hello."
She looked at me again.
"...You are doing so now."
The short silence that followed didn't feel uncomfortable, the way the earlier one had.
Athena glanced once at the blanket I'd shoved aside, then went on.
"Did you rest well?"
"Yeah. The bed's nice."
"Then I am glad."
Only then did the faint strain at the corners of her mouth loosen.
"From now on, if there's something I don't know, I'll ask right away."
"You need not wait until you don't know something to call for me."
The answer came quickly. Athena held her silence a beat, then added:
"When you would operate the facilities yourself, it is more convenient to leave them to me as well."
Her gaze turned toward the window.
"For instance — when the light is too bright, as it is now."
Light reflected off the courtyard was streaming in across the bed.
"I will lower it a little."
A soft shade drifted down over the window.
"Is this better?"
"Yeah. Much better."
Only after one more check of my eyes did Athena withdraw her gaze from the window. A small control panel unfolded in front of her; a list of items appeared, and most of them folded themselves away again.
"I will not walk you through everything from the very beginning. To start, it would be well for you to know where you will return to, and how to bring your belongings over."
"I do need to go pick up my stuff anyway."
"Your current Return to Base point is the garden entrance. Shall I change it to the residence entrance?"
I nodded. It had been nice for the sightseeing on the way in, but there was no reason to start every visit from there.
"Yeah. Put it inside the house."
"I will set it to the residence building's entrance."
One line of display changed.
"As for your belongings: return to your previous location and designate the items you wish to bring. Anything in your possession can travel with you."
"Then I don't even need a bag. I just have to gather the stuff and—"
"You may designate them where they sit, without gathering anything at all."
Athena's gaze dipped, briefly, to my right leg.
"There will be no need to lift anything heavy."
I swallowed the words I'd been about to say. It was rare for anyone to reach for that subject before I had to bring it up myself.
"...That's convenient."
Athena's chin lifted, just slightly.
"You can live far more comfortably than this. That was only the first explanation."
I laughed under my breath.
"If I were on my own, I'd have started stuffing a bag already. Good thing I asked first."
The hand gliding toward the next item stopped.
"...I am glad it was of help."
The voice that had been explaining the obvious a moment ago had gone noticeably softer. Even while I double-checked the entry settings, her gaze rested on me more than on the control window.
When I looked up, our eyes met. Athena lightly closed away the smile that had been gathering at the corner of her mouth.
"From now on, please call for me before you pack, as well."
"Yeah. I will."
She nodded and unfolded the next window. The movement of her fingertips seemed a touch lighter than before.
"Does your screen just stay up all the time?"
"Even if you close the display, I will answer when called."
"If I call your name?"
"Yes."
I looked at the close mark. Athena's gaze followed mine. This time, I spoke first.
"Just want to try it. I'll call you right back."
She looked at me.
"...Go ahead and see."
I closed the window.
The space before the bed stood empty. It was a room I had been alone in until a few minutes ago — and yet, with the quiet back in place, something felt different from before.
"Athena."
"Yes, Administrator."
The voice arrived from beside me the instant I called. I turned my head that way. There was no figure.
"Quick, this time."
A brief silence passed.
"The call function is operating normally."
I pressed down a smile and nodded.
"Bring the screen back up too."
Before the words had finished, a golden line drew itself through the air. This time it stood a little to the side of the bed — clearing the window, yet placed so that one turn of the head brought our eyes together.
Athena regarded me in the same composed posture as ever. Then my stomach made a small sound. I tried to pretend I hadn't heard it — and met her eyes.
"Shall I prepare a meal?"
"Right here?"
"The cooking facilities and basic ingredients are stocked and ready. I will prepare something warm. Is there any food you cannot eat?"
"No. Anything's fine."
"Then I will show you the rest while you eat."
I got up from the bed. Athena's display slid aside so it wouldn't block my path, and her voice stayed close as I made my way along the corridor.
The dining space lay behind the hall. A long table stood beside a window overlooking the lake, and when I took my seat, a faint light stirred to life within the counter along the far wall.
Before long, a low serving cart drew up alongside the table. Its lid opened, and warm steam rose.
Rice, soup, grilled fish, a handful of side dishes.
It was such an ordinary spread that I hesitated for a beat instead. In a place like this — a place like some temple — I had braced myself for food whose names I wouldn't even know.
"I judged it best for you to begin with a familiar meal."
Athena indicated the side of the table where my spoon and chopsticks had been laid.
"The soup is hot. Please take your time."
I picked up the spoon and took a sip of the soup. Not salty, and warm. When a piece of well-simmered radish reached my tongue, it came apart soft as anything.
"It's good."
"I'm glad it suits your taste."
I scooped up a spoonful of rice and laid it over the fish.
It wasn't the first time I'd eaten a meal someone else had made. I'd eaten at restaurants; I'd eaten in the army.
But someone preparing my food at home, then watching me eat it to see whether it suited me — I couldn't for the life of me remember when the last time had been.
I started from the table of my childhood. After my mother left, even when my stomach ached with hunger, I read my father's mood first. I never knew what the words I want dinner might bring down on my head. Living on my own had been a relief precisely because there was no one left to read.
And I'd thought that was enough.
I set my spoon down for a moment. Even in the middle of eating well, no strength would hold at the corners of my mouth. I must have looked like someone who had started to smile, then stopped.
"...Is something not to your liking?"
When I raised my head, Athena was watching me. Her gaze dipped to the bowl, then climbed back to my face.
"No. It's good."
I took up another spoonful of rice.
"It's nice, having you here."
Athena didn't answer right away. She looked down at her hands, folded neatly together, then back up at me. Her lips moved a little, as though about to ask something — but what came out was different.
"I will take care of your meals from now on as well."
"Then I'm grateful."
"If there is a dish you would like, please tell me. I can prepare 'anything at all' — but it is better if I know what you like."
I smiled a little.
"I'll think of something by next time."
Athena nodded and folded the explanation window away. Once she'd confirmed I'd picked the spoon back up, she didn't hurry to fill the silence. I was quietly grateful for that.
About halfway through the rice, I spoke first.
"Can you manage the gallery too?"
"I can assist, if you permit it, Administrator. Important decisions — operating policy, changes to permissions — you must make yourself."
"Can I ask you about the shop items too? There's a fair amount I can't figure out even when I read the descriptions."
"Show me a product's information, and I will explain its purpose and its conditions of use."
That, at least, would definitely help. Even back when I was choosing the residential district, the names alone had told me nothing about what half the places sold.
"Then let's look at the screen together."
"Please share it."
I took out my phone, opened the gallery, and shared the screen. I was on my way into the shop when a new-comment notification popped up — a comment on the notice I'd posted with the recovery address.
For a second I wondered if the link was broken, and tapped into it first.
Nothing was wrong. I was on my way back out, reassured, when I ended up reading the comments posted beneath it.
Just then, Athena's voice sounded beside me.
"'If you're ever bored, feel free to stop by for a moment.'"
I reached out a hand.
"I didn't say to read it out loud."
"'Because I will be here then, too.'"
Too late.
She had already checked who had written the notice.
"Did you write this, Administrator?"
"Yeah."
"How very like a young lady — wanting to hold on to someone, yet hating to be the first to say so."
"You didn't have to analyze it that far."
"Is that the impression you intended?"
"There's... a bit of a story behind that one."
"I see."
Athena nodded, meek as anything. Then, as her gaze slid off the notice, the corner of her mouth rose — just a little.
"You didn't just laugh, did you?"
"Shall we continue?"
I closed the notice.
New posts were rolling in fast. At first I assumed it was the chicken-restock thread again — but the title was different.
I zoomed in on the photo.
A dark, heavy shape hung in the sky between the buildings. Blurred — but the outline was one I recognized.
It was the very thing I'd seen from ground level in the shop preview, barely minutes ago.
I raised my head. Athena was watching me in silence.
"That's this place, isn't it?"
"Yes."
I had known, of course. It wasn't as if I'd believed no one would notice something this size hanging in the sky.
Still, seeing it through a stranger's photograph was a different matter entirely.
I set my spoon down and looked out the window. The lake lay smooth and still, and the garden's flowers swayed as lazily as they had before.
And here, it was this quiet.
When I looked back at the screen, the comment count had grown.
While I ate my meal, all hell had broken loose down below.