DAY 7
DIMENSION: 7
FINAL OBSERVATION
I opened my eyes.
But there was no scenery.
No white.
No black.
Not even light existed.
And yet
I could see everything.
Every world I had passed through.
The world that was only a single line.
The world that had become a flat plane.
The world where I lived with Misaki.
The future where I died.
The countless lives I had never chosen.
And
1,048,576 worlds.
All of them existed inside me.
My smartphone vibrated.
Only one line
appeared on the screen.
FINAL QUESTION
“What is reality?”
I couldn't answer.
At that moment
I heard footsteps
from beyond the darkness.
A man appeared.
He had the same face as me.
The man I had seen
on the sixth day.
“You finally made it.”
That was all he said.
“Who are you?”
The man didn't answer.
Instead
he held out
his smartphone to me.
An old video
was playing on the screen.
A hospital room.
Misaki was lying
in a bed.
Beside her
I was sitting.
No.
That wasn't me.
He was slightly thinner than I was
with deep shadows
beneath his eyes.
Holding Misaki's hand
the man was crying.
I heard a doctor's voice.
“I'm sorry.
There's nothing we can do to save her.”
The video changed.
It showed a white laboratory.
Countless monitors.
In the center
stood a single machine.
Words appeared on the screen.
REALITY BRANCH OBSERVATION DEVICE
PURPOSE:
SEARCH FOR A WORLD WHERE SURVIVAL IS POSSIBLE
The man asked the machine
a question.
“Does a world exist
where Misaki survives?”
The machine answered.
“UNKNOWN.”
“Then find it.”
“THE REQUIRED NUMBER OF OBSERVATIONS
CANNOT BE CALCULATED.”
The man didn't hesitate.
“Create them all.”
A chill ran down my spine.
The worlds
hadn't existed
from the beginning.
They had been created
to search
for a possibility
where Misaki could be saved.
The man spoke.
“You've forgotten
everything that happened after this.”
The video continued.
One world was created.
Then two.
Four.
Eight.
Sixteen.
The multiplication never stopped.
But there was a problem.
Simply creating worlds
wasn't enough
to determine their outcomes.
Someone had to live inside them
and make choices.
So the machine
created an observer.
Me.
More precisely
a being created by copying
my memories
and personality.
Again.
And again.
I held my breath.
“Then what happened
to the real me?”
The man looked at me.
“He's gone.”
The final record
appeared on the smartphone.
The man in the laboratory.
The original me.
He was sitting
in front of the machine.
Misaki
was already dead.
Among the worlds
that had been explored
there were worlds
where Misaki survived.
But in one of those worlds
someone else died.
In another
Misaki had never known me.
And in another
I had never existed at all.
There wasn't
a single perfect answer.
Even so
the man couldn't stop searching.
“One more time.”
“One more world.”
“Maybe the next one.”
The number of worlds
kept growing.
Eventually
the machine asked him.
“DO YOU WISH TO END THE SEARCH?”
The man stared
at the screen
for a long time.
Then he answered.
“I can't.”
At that moment
I remembered.
That voice.
That despair.
That wish.
All of it
was my memory.
In the end
the man had saved
his own memories
inside the machine.
But he had deleted
one thing.
The memory
of losing Misaki.
Because if every copy
carried that memory
they would all
make the same choice.
They would keep
creating more worlds.
So he threw
that memory away.
He created a version of me
who knew nothing
and began
the seven stages
of observation.
At last
I understood.
“The seven dimensions
weren't worlds.”
The man nodded.
“No.”
“They were stages
designed to bring
the observer outside.”
In the first dimension
I learned that there was
something beyond the world.
In the second
I looked inside myself.
In the third
I discovered another life.
In the fourth
I stepped outside time.
In the fifth
I saw the possibilities
I hadn't chosen.
In the sixth
I observed
the worlds themselves.
And then
the seventh dimension.
A place completely separated
from every world.
Only here
could the choosing finally end.
I looked at the man.
“Who sent me
to the first day?”
“You did.”
“Not the me
I am now.”
“That's right.”
The man pointed
to his chest.
“The first observer.”
The very first copy
that had been created.
After failing
again and again
he had finally sent himself
back to the first day.
To end
the observation
that would never end.
My smartphone
vibrated again.
Three choices appeared.
DELETE WORLDS
MERGE WORLDS
END OBSERVATION
Below them
a new message appeared.
“IF YOU SELECT END OBSERVATION
ALL WORLDS WILL CONTINUE TO EXIST
INDEPENDENTLY.”
I stared at the screen.
“They won't disappear?”
“They won't.”
The man answered.
“Even without being observed
they'll keep living.”
The me
who lived with Misaki.
The me
who lived alone.
The me
who would die tomorrow.
The me
holding a child.
The Misaki
who didn't know me.
And the world
where I didn't exist.
Which one was real?
I had wondered
for so long.
But
the question itself
had been wrong.
Even if a world
was created by someone else
the laughter within it
wasn't fake.
Neither were the tears.
Or the love.
Or the loss.
For the person living there
it was their one
and only reality.
I pressed
“END OBSERVATION.”
A warning appeared.
“THE OBSERVER
CANNOT RETURN.”
I smiled.
There had never been
anywhere for me
to return to.
“EXECUTE?”
I placed my finger
on the screen.
Then
I asked
one final question.
“Is Misaki
alive somewhere?”
The man smiled slightly.
“Yes.”
I smiled too.
That was enough.
EXECUTE.
The lights connecting
1,048,576 worlds
went out
one by one.
The worlds
hadn't disappeared.
I simply
couldn't see them anymore.
Finally
the first question
appeared again
on my smartphone.
FINAL QUESTION
“What is reality?”
This time
I had an answer.
“To live
even when no one
is observing you.”
The screen turned white.
ANSWER: ACCEPTED
ENDING OBSERVATION.
GOODBYE.
And then
my consciousness
went dark.
Morning.
Misaki opened her eyes.
Beside her
a man she didn't recognize
was sleeping.
He was her husband.
It was
an ordinary morning.
Misaki got out of bed
and looked at
the smartphone
on the table.
For just a moment
the screen lit up
on its own.
Words she had
never seen before
appeared.
OBSERVATION: OFF
Before Misaki
could touch the screen
the words disappeared.
Outside the window
the world continued
as if nothing
had ever happened.
No one knew anymore
which numbered world
this was.
And
there was no need
to know.
Because to the people
living in that world
it was their one
and only
“reality.”