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Call of Akasha
Debugger's Monologue
12.08.2022 I often find myself troubleshooting and debugging in this vast universe. While investigation and conducting research are certainly part of my job, more often than not, discovering problems that others overlook or cannot solve constitutes the majority of my work. As the Deputy Investigator on the spacecraft, I prefer wandering from corner to corner, chatting with the younger generations, and learning about their stories and motivations. Usually, when they hear that I am the deputy officer, a hint of surprise appears on their faces, soon becoming acknowledgment. "So, she is like what folks described..." or "Is she this kind person?" At the same time, I discreetly approached overheated machinery, gesturing with my hands, and softly calling, "Ice!" The machinery gradually cools down. "That should do it, right? Keep up the good work, everyone!" As I finished, I saw others expressing surprise and joy. The moment the problem is solved, what I anticipate the most is seeing everyone relieved. I know in that instant, everyone always becomes remarkably free. The back half of the spacecraft is inside a giant asteroid, functioning as the information center, a sustainable library, or database of this universe. Compared to troubleshooting, investigation is a more challenging task for me. Discovering something never found before is as difficult as creating a diamond in the empty air. Everywhere in this asteroid is filled with pitted ores that may seem scattered, broken, and, to be honest, ugly at first glance. But soon I realized, a vast amounts of unknown, undefined, but fun information is hidden within every inch of the rough surface. Yes, fun, maybe. If every inch of this big rock were to be thoroughly investigated, it would likely take billions of years for we [[Debuggers]] to learn, absorb, and understand this amount of information. ! The spacecraft makes a sharp turn again, the bright light outside the window suddenly extinguished and interrupted my thinking. The mysterious inside of the asteroid reveals a hint of strangeness after losing the illumination. Do you see it? We have just approached the sun and then flew away from it. Inside the spacecraft, time occasionally feels incredibly slow. Especially when my body, through random falls and dizziness, reminds me of its struggling existence, I often wonder if it will take us hours to reach another galaxy. However, when I tuned the spacecraft as my inside, as part of me, as those breathing organs, I could tell we were traveling at a speed of hundreds of thousands of years per second. For those who are limited by time, whether it passes quickly or slowly, it may be equally painful to live with. One day, after finding the ashes of that abandoned woman on a far, towering cliff, I released them without hesitation, letting them blend with the air like a flowing ink painting. The remaining ashes, almost none, sank into the air, and just in seconds, her memories sealed on the mountain for hundreds of years finally disappeared. Existing in time, whether fast or slow, is equally painful. "Small act, but at least we can let them rest," I often say to my bewildered subordinates. Outside the spacecraft, moments have passed through many scenes over millennia, with heart-wrenching scripts, tragic plots, and ordinary gossip. Sometimes, we play the roles ourselves, but more often, our people are mere spectators. And sometimes, many forget that the end is just the end. No rolling credits, no sequels, and no easter eggs after the final scene. Shattered souls walk off the stage, still broken-hearted. Only the end. Nothing left. Collecting these fragments of those souls and analyzing them has become our hobby outside the spacecraft. However, if you ask if we feel any compassion, most of us would likely answer: "Compassion doesn't work in a realm without linear time."