By this point, Duncan had figured out three important things about the mysterious red light.
First, he learned from historical records that before a catastrophic event known as the “Great Annihilation,” a deep, blood-red light would appear in the sky. Coming from far away in space, this light behaved in a way that didn’t make sense with what we know about light. It seemed to be fixed in the same position in the sky for everyone on the planet as if it was being directly shown to each person or even imprinted in their minds.
Second, the red light itself didn’t actually cause any physical harm. Instead, it acted more like a warning sign, a cosmic signal that the end of the world was near. It was a forewarning of the apocalypse, not the cause of it.
Third, the world’s end wouldn’t come suddenly; it would happen gradually. This slow decline would be marked by increasingly bizarre events, including changes in the basic laws of reality. These changes would build up until the world couldn’t hold together anymore.
This last point was particularly significant to Duncan. The end wasn’t immediate; there would be time to see the red light before the ultimate disaster happened. However, Duncan had never seen such a light in the sky himself.
Recently, Duncan found himself mysteriously stuck in what he thought was a “studio apartment.” Until then, he hadn’t seen any supernatural red lights or experienced other strange events. And even after this odd experience, he saw nothing unusual from his apartment’s window.
This made him question the true nature of the “studio apartment.” He had assumed that beyond the mysterious “Door of the Lost,” he would find Earth, his home. He thought he was just isolated, with his homeland on the other side of a simple barrier. But as he heard more about “World Aggregation” and the confusing appearance of the “Moon,” Duncan realized the likelihood of his apartment being connected to his homeland was almost none.
It was now painfully clear to Duncan that he could never go back to the world he knew.
This realization led him to wonder: If the Door of the Lost didn’t lead back to his homeland, then what was the real nature of the “studio apartment”? Where was he actually ending up each time he thought he was going home?
Duncan was deeply focused, with a look of intense thought on his face. Although light that mimicked sunlight shone through the window, his mind was elsewhere. He was caught up thinking about a longsword he had seen and the strange transformation of a “human” into something resembling living metal.
“Is this another piece of the world?” he muttered to himself, his expression growing more puzzled. “What are these world fragments actually made of?”
His thoughts were a whirlwind of memories, theories, and emotions. To find some mental clarity, he began pacing around the room. This movement seemed to calm his nerves and help him organize his thoughts. Eventually, he stopped at his desk and, on impulse, picked up a piece of paper from a stack. Without any specific goal, he started to doodle, his pencil randomly drawing lines and shapes on the paper.
Suddenly, Duncan stopped moving. He was fixated on the doodle he had just drawn—it was a simple depiction of the moon, rough around the edges but strangely familiar. It felt like he was looking at a symbol of a home that seemed close enough to touch yet impossibly far away.
Alice had once said, “If a symbol of home shows up somewhere, that place becomes home.” She wasn’t known for deep thoughts, but Alice had a way of making complex ideas easy to understand. In many ways, she was right: the idea of “home” was present, but it was incomplete. It wasn’t the home Duncan remembered. It was just a piece of it, similar to the human who had turned into something like living metal, now hard to understand.
As if drawn by a force, Duncan reached out and gently touched the pencil drawing of the moon. He quietly said to himself, “So, what else is left?”
His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a flapping noise. The chubby white dove that had been sitting on top of a wardrobe flew down to the floor and walked over to him. The bird looked curiously at the drawing, pecked at it, creating a hole in the paper, and then looked up, cooing, “Looking up at the bright moon, looking up at the bright moon, looking u—”
It stopped suddenly and looked at Duncan with an intense gaze.
Duncan looked back, filled with disbelief. This was no ordinary dove; she had strangely transformed from his compass back then and had chosen to stay by his side, showing an unreal level of loyalty and affection.
The dove flapped its wings again and made an odd sound, “Ai—”
Without thinking, Duncan caught Ai out of the air. But he quickly relaxed his hold as if he was afraid of harming this little creature. His heart raced, and he breathed quickly while Ai looked at him, seemingly puzzled.
Gathering his courage, Duncan softly said, “…Ai?”
The dove nodded and cooed softly in response, “Coo-coo.”
Feeling unsure, Duncan tried saying the name a bit differently, “…IE?”
Again, the dove energetically nodded and cooed a clear “Coo-coo.”
Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Duncan cautiously asked, “Internet Explorer?”
Immediately, the dove’s wings spread wide and it started flapping excitedly, as if the name filled it with energy and a strong desire to communicate.
But all it could say was another “Coo-coo,” even though its movements suggested much more.
Duncan watched the lively dove move around the desk, its movements cheerful. Every now and then, it would stop to look at him curiously, its tiny eyes seeming to flicker with thoughts of glitches and frozen screens. After a while, Duncan sighed, a complex smile forming on his face.
The answer had been in front of him all this time.
This quirky bird was another piece of the world he had lost, another part of a past he couldn’t get back.
He realized he couldn’t return. He truly couldn’t.
For a long time, Duncan sat still in his chair like a statue. His expression was blank, and he barely seemed to breathe.
After what seemed like an eternity, Duncan came to, blinking as though he was awakening from a long sleep. He then pushed himself to continue his train of thought: If Ai symbolized Internet Explorer, what did that reveal about its origin? Was it made from the code that formed the software? Could it be a manifestation of the vast amount of data collected over the years? Was it a representation of the countless computers that had run Internet Explorer, or did it embody the idea or concept behind the software itself?
Or maybe it symbolized something more abstract—a brief moment in the technological evolution of a civilization.
Duncan pondered whether these world fragments had to be tangible entities or could represent significant ideas or abstract concepts from a past reality.
Could the opposite also be true?
Could things that existed physically in the old worlds now exist only as abstract concepts in this new, post-apocalyptic world? What about the numerous anomalies he had encountered, the ethereal beings born from these anomalies, or the knowledge that was too forbidden to speak of? What were they originally?
And at the heart of it all—how did these transformations work? What was the true nature of the Great Annihilation and the eerie red light?
Each answer led to more questions, creating a seemingly endless maze of mysteries. Duncan felt as though he had reached a mental impasse, unable to move forward without more clues or insights.
Lost in these thoughts, a soft knock on the door brought him back to reality, interrupting his deep contemplation.
Alerted by the knock, Duncan sensed someone on the other side of the door. Taking a deep breath to calm his swirling thoughts, he invited, “Come in, Alice.”
The door opened slowly, and Alice entered, looking like she had come out of a storybook—delicate and magical. She brought with her a plate of the dinner Duncan had missed while lost in thought.
“Captain,” Alice said with concern, “I noticed you haven’t eaten yet.”
Seeing Alice, so seemingly unaffected by the complexities around them, instantly calmed Duncan’s restless mind.
With a tired yet grateful smile, he responded, “Thank you, Alice. Please, put it on the table.”
“Of course,” Alice replied, placing the food on the table. She quickly reassured him, “Don’t worry, it’s all normal food, made to suit a typical human taste. Nina mentioned that you might not appreciate the local ‘traditional dishes’…”
As she spoke, she looked up to catch Duncan’s eye, trying to read his mood. “Are you alright?”
“I am now,” Duncan let out a sigh of relief, his overwhelming thoughts momentarily soothed by Alice’s company. A slight smile appeared on his face. “With everything that’s happening, I guess I should feel excited, right?”
“Oh,” Alice said. She might not have understood the full extent of Duncan’s thoughts, but she felt a sense of relief seeing him more at ease. “Everyone downstairs was a bit concerned about you, so they sent me to check on you. I’m happy to see you’re feeling better.”
Duncan acknowledged her with a nod, appreciating the moment of calm.
In the vast, maze-like house, Duncan knew he wasn’t lacking in people who truly cared about his welfare, even if their ways of showing it varied greatly. However, Alice, with her seemingly simple nature, offered him care that felt pure and unguarded. Nina, he considered, was probably the only other person who matched this kind of sincerity.
With these thoughts, Duncan gave a slight shake of his head and a smile, his mind drifting to another matter.
“Alice,” he began, “I need your help with something.”
“Ah? Of course!” Alice was quick to respond, ready to assist.
Duncan nodded in appreciation, then pulled a brass key from his pocket. Despite its age and wear, it still had a shine to it.
“Alice, I need to use this key again.”
“Absolutely!”
Holding the key, Duncan’s mind buzzed with thoughts and questions once more. But in that moment, with the calming presence of Alice and the prospect of a simple meal ahead, those worries seemed to momentarily lose their weight. The room felt brighter and more inviting than before. For the first time in a long stretch filled with endless pondering and uncertainty, Duncan experienced a real sense of relief.
