Liberi Reader

You awaken to an unpleasant mechanical noise.

A normal day.

Before your eyes is the ceiling of an ordinary living room in Rhodes Island. The furnishings look just as ordinary, though the hum of the ventilation system seems a bit deeper than in other cabins.

You know why. It is one of the most inconspicuous parts of your many peculiarities.

You wash up perfunctorily. This part isn't so different from ordinary people. You take special medication to maintain your condition. This part is a bit different from ordinary people.

Next, you don the full-body protective clothing that hampers your normal activities, but considering your physical condition, it is necessary. It may also be temporary, depending on your recovery.

These are all orders from Dr. Kal'tsit. According to her, you used to know more about these things than she did; but now, only she can look after your health.

The world has not been kind to you, and you know this.

7:33 A.M.

Rhodes Island Cafeteria

The operators gradually disperse, and you find yourself sitting in the corner of the canteen, a rare occurrence indeed.

Rhodes Island, a place that makes you feel both at home yet also estranged, just like those clear but also unrecognizable memories. A pharmaceutical company with the primary goal of resolving the problems surrounding the Infected.

It is said that the past you was intimately connected to all of this. It is said that you played a key role in its establishment. It is said that you were the brains of Rhodes Island, and that Rhodes Island was the extension of your will.

A portion of what was spoken of has been slowly returning to you, but you are not sure if this is good or bad.

You have forgotten too much. Rhodes Island has welcomed you, but you don't know if you are worthy of its welcome.

Your breakfast lies before your eyes, a bland but healthy meal. You know that this, too, is Kal'tsit's work.

Over the past three months, your life has been filled with these feelings—

Everything is so strange yet so nostalgic. Conceptually, these feelings are completely contradictory, yet they manifest in front of you together.

Three months ago, during the sudden outbreak of rioting and conflict, they... Rhodes Island, rescued you from the epicenter of the turmoil.

In the ensuing conflict, too many people lost their lives.

So many of the deceased recognized you, yet you do not recognize them; So many of the deceased heard about you, yet you have not heard about them.

You gave your utmost, gaining greater respect in the process, and your hard work finally bore the fruit of victory. Yet that victory still came laden with inevitable pain.

Up until now... Up until now, you've had but one question, a question that you've repeatedly raised to yourself but have never been able to answer.

Is it all worth it?

2:45 P.M.

Rhodes Island Integrated Bioprocessing Unit

Stretching out before your eyes is the most unique warehouse in all of Rhodes Island.

A large number of unclaimed objects are stacked in this warehouse.

A petite Perro operator is struggling to wipe down a badly-damaged shield.

You recognize the shield, and remember the former owner of that shield.

You remember that tall, somewhat slovenly operator who always sported a hearty smile. He was once your friend, or so you've been told. But you don't know anything.

You're weary of this repetitive, contradictory nonsense, but nothing better encapsulates the current state of your existence.

All the specifics sift through the cracks of your fingers. You extend your hand to catch them, but the fine sands of memory are dragged down by gravity and fall into the abyss, grain by grain.

You step forward to help her, but soon realize that you are too weak to lift the shield even a single centimeter off the ground.

Perhaps you were able to do it in the past, but such a task is no longer possible for your convalescing body. Kal'tsit has reminded you of this, as well as everything else.

Beagle stares at the shield with a sad smile. The dust from the warehouse plaster her hair and face, but the Perro operator doesn't seem to care.

You look around the room, and in the corner of the shelf, something catches your attention.

Various photos and ornaments stacked in a small, messy box. Underneath it are some old, faded documents.

You flip through a few photos. These old, yellowed, stained photos almost all depict Ursus people.

Most of the people in the photos are clad in ragged clothes, showing a mix of awkwardness, joy, or numbness when facing the camera.

On the backside of a silver pendant in the box is an engraving in the Ursus script—

—'To Ivana, my darling daughter. May she always know happiness.'

Among them are former enemies, as well as former friends.

You know that some of them fought against Rhodes Island to the bitter end, and you also know that some of them became allies of Rhodes Island in a time of crisis.

You don't know all their stories, but you do know the suffering of the Infected. You know... and yet you do not know.

The Perro operator rushes out, leaving you alone with the ownerless objects stacked in the warehouse, save the slowly-settling dust of time.

You are about to turn and leave, but a strange red shadow enters your field of vision. Curious, but just not enough to stop your movement.

It's just a strange red machine.

3:53 P.M. \ Overcast

Rhodes Island Landship, Lower Deck

The burly Sarkaz knocks on the nearby machine.

A voice from the shadows. W looks up, and though the light isn't on, someone has been staring at her from the darkness since the beginning.

The Sarkaz in the shadows does not answer.

W knows of this habit, in Ascalon's line of work. The rule is, each extra word makes your head hit the ground a little bit faster.

4:10 P.M.

Rhodes Island Landship, Lower Deck

The roar of machinery fills the lowest level of Rhodes Island, the area that provides power to the entire ship.

The Sarkaz Goliaths are the operators responsible for running it. On weekdays, the bottom level is populated pretty exclusively by technical staff.

You are wandering around aimlessly.

In these three months, you still have not set foot in every corner of Rhodes Island.

Rhodes Island is like a small nomadic city. Though much smaller in scale, it is still well-equipped.

Its internal structure is far more complicated than it seems at a glance, and the power plant is one such example.

The burly Sarkaz man puts down the wrench in his hand and removes his dirty work gloves.

From the bottom of his toolbox, he takes out a small teapot and the accompanying teacups, contrasting sharply with his large, rough hands.

He knows more about Rhodes Island than you.

You suddenly feel that it is this Sarkaz and his fellow workers who are keeping Rhodes Island going.

They grasp the lifeblood of the landship in their hands, yet they deliberately avoid the public eye.

You are grateful for everything they do, but don't know why.

6:22 P.M.

Among the various discarded, unused mechanical equipment in the warehouse, that strange device towers above the rest.

The box-shaped device stands more than two meters tall. The red paint on the surface is clearly visible, but has been severely worn down under the perennial erosion of wind and sand.

You observe the enigmatic device carefully. There are no buttons and no gaps under its worn-out metal casing.

You haven't seen anything like it before. At least in your existing memory, you have no impression of it.

You lightly knock on the casing of the device, out of curiosity.

After a violent rattling noise, the device lets out a small 'ding.'

The complete, box-like structure suddenly opens, the once seamlessly-shut outer shell sliding up and down like a cabin door.

Inside the box-like structure, you see an artifact with a metallic luster.

Unlike the wear and tear that the outside of the box had been subjected to, everything inside is as smooth as ever, with no trace of the passage of time.

However, the manmade object within fills everyone with a sense of familiarity.