act47side

We'll continue our patrols. A smattering of testers and researchers will not significantly affect our operation.

Stay wary, and report back promptly.

Wasn't there one more person here just now?

Phew, he didn't notice me... Thanks for pulling me back, Mr. Jagger.

You're welcome. You good?

Truth be told, seeing the others knocked down so easily still has my knees feeling like spaghetti.

Can you run?

I can.

Let's split up here then. No time to slow down.

I'm here, sir.

(Wipes pipe) Let me have a smoke first, Merry.

You can look at those screens while I'm at it.

Mercia fixes her gaze at the dozen or so monitors on the wall, and sees the high-altitude elevator, the floating platforms, the ropeway station—almost every inch of Propeller Paradise is displayed on the screens.

The bright and bizarre structures in the sky seem to pop out from the screens, a strange sight in the dark room. As if Mercia was attending a post-modern art exhibition instead.

This place...

What of it?

...Nothing. I just didn't think Propeller Paradise would have such a... sealed off space.

Hmm? Reminds you of our interrogation room?

So, may I know why you were looking for me?

Look at the upper right monitor. You heard the explosion earlier, didn't you? The nearly ten floating pods connected to that Rhine Lab 'tree' should have been smoking heaps of scrap metal in the wastes by now.

Merry, I'm sure you know... what sort of force keeps them in the air still.

An incantation. I kept this secret from you, sir.

*sigh* Our colleagues at the Emergency Management Council have only just captured the dangerous criminals responsible for the explosion, and now they have to clean up the mess caused by their own people's negligence.

You've seen it. The Banshee's incantation has changed the way the levitation layer connects to the other platforms and pods. Any other incident happens, and it'll affect more than just nine pods.

The situation is dire.

Sir...

I shouldn't be speaking to you like this as a secretary, or a Maylander agent. But I understand my colleagues, and I know how the Council works.

Just now, I was looking at the surveillance footage, and they were busy munching on cotton candy. Inefficient methods of deception like that should be forbidden on such serious occasions.

I've completed my mission on Propeller Paradise, both monitoring Mr. Tannen and the many tech companies, and exposing their secrets. But now I see...

These missions were never to ensure the expo ran smoothly.

Be it the secret from the start, the explosion just now, or the so-called 'other incident' you mentioned... they've all been part of your plan, yes?

Haha. You're keen. You pass.

So what exactly...

Let's sit down before we continue.

Sit down sit down.

Come on, you three. Some manners would be good.

Is this a Maylander trial for a traitor, or...?

Or have I finally found time to handle a junior's troublesome evaluation process?

Don't worry. I'm just an old fart who wishes to impart some wisdom to the younger generation.

I'm curious what that wisdom is.

Oh, Merry. I'm sure you'll hate this rotten nonsense.

One year ago, Rhine Lab submitted a proposal to D.C., a project developing tech from Galleria Stellaria, and Congressman Street was inspired to expand the project for the whole country.

His secretary burned the midnight oil to prepare a slide show, showcasing what the congressman saw in his dreams after having seen the sky over Trimounts being torn apart...

(Holding and biting on Mercia's hat) Foundation stones built on the clouds!

(Walking while twirling Mercia's bow) Rain or shine, it'll all be under our feet!

(Swinging mid-air while holding onto Mercia's hair) Tour groups leaving the Starpod, one-by-one, as the twin moons are covered with Columbian flags!

And so on and so on. Congress voted. How did that turn out?

Two hundred and seventy-three to sixty-five. More than eighty percent voted yea. Hah.

And the government is eager to water and fertilize these fantasies.

I'm sure you know better than I do just how many companies and testers were scrambling to get into Propeller Paradise at any cost after that, Merry.

Too many to count.

Nearly half the companies in Columbia have added a sky-related department, and even air fryer manufacturers have been trying to add 'clouds' to applicable product lines.

Tin Man, don't forget about the stocks!

There are over two hundred sub-categories of sky-related concept stocks, with the longest registered validity period extending three hundred years into the future, hahaha~!

Companies willingly apply for loans with interest rates several times higher than the prevailing market rate just to secure a spot on Propeller Paradise...

I remember looking through Gordon's case files, and coming across a certain Aspen who bought contraband goods from him, just to clear inspections.

Now, it wasn't because he didn't know the law. It was because he was divorced, had sold his family assets, and was burdened with a hopeless mountain of debt. The so-called Lucky Cystybeast is a high-stakes gamble that will decide the rest of his life.

What a shame.

...A shame?

He used to run a grocery store in a town by the shipping routes near D.C., and even now there might be some pioneers out there still using the tools he peddled.

But here he is with this invention, that floating revolving bar where 'the people turn, but not the beer'... What else can you even do with that? Other than invite your foes for a drink?

Simply put, what he's done is akin to a student frantically writing compliments in the margins, hoping the teacher will give him a perfect score.

Take the future as a real test. Who's going to be the examiner? You? Me? The generals at the DOD? Or maybe Congress?

Maybe it'll be Kazimierz, who just equipped all their campaign knights with power armor? Or Leithanien, with their recent addition of a 'Basic Arts Tactics' course to all school curricula?

Or perhaps Ursus, with its growing army, their mighty force that's left their mines empty? Could it be Ægir, currently shelling the Iberian coast with artillery along with the Sea Monsters?

Among these parties, I fear it is the Sea Monsters who are the most likely to visit a floating revolving bar.

Sir, you mean to say that the Columbians' fanaticism for the sky...

Is completely meaningless?

Compared to what's happening everywhere else right now, I'm afraid so.

Columbia has always been driven by fanaticism. I'm sure you're crystal clear on this, given your background, Mercia.

Without a fanatical drive for freedom, we wouldn't have had our frontier rebels eighty-plus years ago, and we Columbians would still be living under the Victorians' heel.

Without a lust for wealth, our mass pioneer movement would not have happened, and nearly half of Columbian land today would remain an untraversable wilderness even for the strongest burdenbeasts.

But this time... it's just a waste.

So you think Propeller Paradise should take the blame?

Why would I? It has already accomplished its mission perfectly... well, it's one step away.

It's stirred up the Columbians' zeal more effectively than I could've ever hoped to. Now, it just needs to 'redirect' it.

Through its ruin?

Through it 'being destroyed'.

By who? Who else in this park could...?

Wait. Mr. Tannen's goods, smuggled from all across Terra... Kazimierz, Leithanien, Sargon, and even Kazdel...

They'll become weapons planted by foreign spies, deliberately intended to ruin Columbia's display of achievements and destroy our people's fantasies of taking to the skies.

Eighty-plus years later, the Columbians' rage will be reignited once more.

Kazimierzians might not want to see their tax money turn into knight armor, while Leithanian children might just run away from boring 'Basic Arts Tactics' classes.

But Columbians, we have our fervor. As we move to the future, we move forward together, tens of millions strong.

As long as we can direct this zeal onto a proper path.

'Collate our wills, and seize the truth of everything'...

Sir, I remember you telling me your story... I thought you always hated war.

It's been tens of thousands of years. The number of lost souls in my hand is no less than the casualties of a military campaign.

The reason I didn't burn in Kazdel's furnace then is that I hate meaningless sacrifices.

But this time... an arms race might just be the beginning. You and I know it won't end there, just like how the Great Expansion didn't end with the discovery of some ore.

So, the sacrifices Columbia needs for this competition won't be enough with just this park... correct?

I told you before, right? This is a whole bunch of rotten nonsense.

The Maylander Foundation didn't have to explain all of this to you, my dear agent. But the day will come when you'll have to accept the truth, even if you don't agree with it.

Don't forget your family name, Mercia... You're a Selene.

This is...

The elevators connecting the park's upper and lower levels have been sealed off, and the only ropeway station leading to the 'tree' is also out of service. Nasti has exhausted herself just by getting here.

Floating pods by her side are riddled with cracks, black smoke billowing from within. A sign their core energy modules have been destroyed, and they should have all crashed to the ground.

But the pods stubbornly remain amongst the clouds, piecing together a precarious path, as if an invisible pair of hands are holding them up.

Nasti?

Update the others. I'll go get her.