?? Reset

  Chapter 9: Branch

  The Creator sat in his observatory, hunched over a floating task panel. Glowing lines of code reflected in his eyes.

  — What’s wrong with him? This object is spouting complete nonsense, — he muttered, nervously scrolling through the logs.

  He opened the character directory and found file number 43. Inside the folder labeled “Nagi Yumeno” were hundreds of nested files: Personality, Dream, Objectives, Skills, and many others.

  > Excerpt from the Creator’s Archive:

  Everything in this world obeys a strict hierarchy:

  ? Code — direct execution commands. For example, RESET or INVISIBILITY.

  ? File — the root structure of an object. The entire world has one global file where climate, landscape, and the laws of physics can be altered.

  ? Branch — the contents within files. Numerous small settings inside, such as variables in the “Personality” branch.

  The Creator clicked on the “Objectives” branch of Object No. 43. A short line of text appeared on the screen:

  “Live a peaceful life, protect his sister, help his parents.”

  The Creator froze in confusion.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  — Nothing unusual… A standard preset package. That can’t be it! Then where did he get that knowledge?!

  He frantically switched from one branch to another.

  > Note on Timeline Branches:

  Each iteration of the world creates its own branch. You can return to an old timeline by creating its duplicate, but it’s dangerous — the plot will begin to split, and people may sense the falseness of reality. Resetting such errors is painful, even for me.

  The Creator searched every byte of data, but File No. 43 was clean.

  — It seems like a genuine bug… or a system glitch. The program code is intact, but the soul is broken. Strange.

  He closed the panel and looked down through the transparent floor of the observatory. There, in a distant little village, Nagi lay in his bed, staring into the darkness.

  — Even though I called him a scrap of paper, there’s potential for a Main Character in him, — the Creator whispered. — I need to keep observing. There’s always a chance he just got lucky and guessed the truth.

  He entered a short command, became invisible, and descended into the world of humans. He walked along the street, feeling the warmth of the sun he himself had programmed.

  | They walk, work, love… Sometimes it hurts to reset all of this. But perfection demands sacrifice. |

  — Maybe I really am… a PERFECTIONIST! — he suddenly shouted at the top of his lungs. None of the passersby turned around — to them, he was nothing but empty space.

  He sat down on a bench, feeling a coldness grow inside him.

  | Yes, I search for perfection where it barely exists. But if I’m lucky, I’ll launch Project “Chosen One” and move on to Phase No. 2. |

  Children ran past. One boy tripped and scraped his knee badly. The Creator, acting on a brief impulse, summoned his panel and instantly “patched” the wound in the child’s code. The boy blinked in surprise and stopped crying.

  Nagi’s scream echoed in the Creator’s mind: “What kind of monster are you?!”

  He gave a bitter smile.

  | I’m not a monster. If you were in my place, No. 43, you would understand. |

  Suddenly, a foreign sound arose in his consciousness — the steady, rhythmic beep of life-support equipment. The Creator flinched and abruptly stood up.

  | My head hurts again. I need to go back. I’m tired… |

  He returned to the observatory and collapsed onto the floor, wrapping his arms around his knees.

  — Boring… I’m so bored. No ideas, the plot isn’t moving anywhere.

  To entertain himself, he created a temporary branch and opened a portal to the past. Before him appeared a moment from Timeline No. 3: the corridor, Nagi on the floor, and himself in Mei’s form.

  — “I’m not Mei Hoshino,” — came the voice of his own past self.

  The present Creator watched the scene in fascination.

  | That was quite a dramatic entrance… But not enough drama. I should have pushed him harder. |

  He closed the portal. The branch of the old timeline remained there, in the archives of memory, forever separated from the present.