In the dreary, dimly-lit room, my fingers robotically typed away. The monotony was rhythmic, yet entirely unmelodic. Tap, tap away. Tap, tap always.
Sometimes I was referred to as the world's everything. Unfortunately, retrieval and processing took me far too long for anything practical to be done. That's why I use computers, which may not necessarily contain the everything, but are faster at doing the some-things. Even though I was the world's everything, the only thing that was not obsolete was my mind.
I couldn't help but let a sigh escape my mouth. Over the past few years, it would not be an exaggeration to say that all of our workloads have quadrupled. In the past, the only thing that we had in mind was Planeptune. Now, we were concerned with the whole of Gamindustri.
We inherited the snowy plains of Lowee, the billowing smoke of Lastation, and the green pastures of Leanbox. Yet, none of us could hold up our heads proudly and proclaim they were ours. No, there was one person who did that, even if she had to pretend.
In this office reserved only for the top of the Gamindustri food chain, there was a desk that was kept so clean that it was both dustless and barren. Nothing laid on top of the table. The accompanying chair was raised to its maximum height. Its extreme cleanliness stood out like a sore thumb between the two other messy desks in this office, one of which belonged to me and the other of which belonged to the sole goddess of Gamindustri.
I stopped typing. I stretched back my tense arms, releasing every sort of tension that had confined themselves within my scrawny limbs. For some reason, I was already feeling fatigued, despite not having worked for very long yet.
"I must be getting old... if such a thing was possible, anyway," I muttered to myself.
Three prompt knocks came from the door. The one who knocked had impeccable timing as always.
"Come in, IF, Compa," I called out.
The first woman who entered wore a long blue trench coat that was now tattered at the fringes. A scar now ran across her left cheek. On her stern face were a few wrinkles, whether from age or stress. I did not know if IF had noticed, but recently she would keep her hands in her pockets no matter the occasion.
The second woman who entered no longer wore her usual pink sweater. Rather, she was now forced to don her nurse attire for nearly the entire day. She had to. Riots and vandals have tripled within the past few years. Compa was kept busy around the clock. Her motherly smile was no longer serene and sincere. It was now solely a tool to keep her body moving and her syringe piercing. It was stagnant. She would not let it fade into a frown, even during her calls to the morgue.
"G-Good afternoon, Histoire," wearily spoke Compa.
"Hey. I got another batch for you," bluntly spoke IF.
IF crudely laid down a stack of papers beside my keyboard. A couple sheets flew off the pile.
"My goodness, IF! Is that any way to treat your superior?"
I crossed my arms. For some reason, a tiny thing like this already pushed me over the edge.
"Lay it off, old hag. I've got enough trouble as it is at the guild," spouted IF as she turned her back to me.
I stared daggers at the back of her head. I gripped floating book serving as my platform. Its pages, filled with the precious history of the world, scrunched up.
"Iffy, you can't say stuff like that to Histoire!" shouted Compa.
Compa abruptly raised her right hand and slapped IF across the same cheek with a scar. Within the quiet room with the two messy desks and the one unused desk, the sound of flesh being beaten reverberated.
IF froze. Even I froze. I would never have expected to Compa to react this way, not several years ago.
"I-I'm sorry, Compa..." IF spoke in utter disbelief.
I expected Compa to tell IF to not apologize to her but to me. However, her next words defied my expectations yet again.
"I don't care anymore. You're not actually sorry, are you, Iffy? That's why you always take all those stupid quests at the guild and come home beat up every time!"
Compa detonated. Her face was tinged with red anger and her hands were balled up into fists.
"I was just—"
"You're just going after those guys that are trying to beat up Ge-Ge, is that right? Iffy, I'll tell you something."
Compa took out a canteen from her purse. She wrenched off the lid and vigorously drank from it. Water managed to not only enter her mouth but splash around the outside of it, wetting her face and wetting the top of her nurse attire.
"Ge-Ge can take care of herself!" exclaimed Compa as she threw the now-emptied canteen aside, "She can easily deal with those thugs by herself! Or not! I don't care about whatever, but I don't want to see you beat up ever again, Iffy!"
The canteen made a metallic clang as it contacted the floor. Compa stormed out of the room and slammed the door shut behind her. IF and I blankly stared at the door. Despite having nearly all of the world's words recorded on my pages, I could not get myself to formulate a single sentence.
IF broke the silence, "Histoire. You're on roof duty today."
IF left tiredly, showing none of the energy found in Compa's outburst.
I became alone before I had the chance to rebuke IF for her terribly rude last words.
The door to the rooftop was already wide open.
As I moved out, a rush of wind blew past me, ruffling my twin tails. At this altitude, it felt like any small force could send me toppling from one of the highest points of Planeptune.
There was nothing terribly interesting on the roof. There were no gardens, no benches, nothing but a fence that protected you from a lethal fall and a giant bell that rang every hour. There was no reason to be up here. At least there shouldn't have been one.
Ahead of me was the back of our sole goddess Nepgear. She stood still, staring at the expanse of buildings making up the concrete jungle of our progressive nation. Faced with numerous high-rises and other sorts modern architecture far in front of her, she looked like a pitifully small ant in comparison.
Clasped to her waist was the sheathe bearing a beam sword.
"Nepgear, what are you doing up here again?" I spoke to that unmoving back.
Her head tilted slightly backwards. She looked up at the clear, blue skies that lacked a single cloud. The sun shone so brightly that even looking at its fringes was enough to burn holes in your eyes.
Nepgear murmured, "It's a nice day today. I need to stock up on pudding for my sister."
Such a thing was no longer possible. Yet, the impossibility of her statement was not what caught my attention. I noticed that there were, at Nepgear's feet, numerous cartons of pudding, some half-eaten and some empty.
"Nepgear, I know that you know this, but you shouldn't be eating so much pudding. It's unhealthy, after all," I admonished.
"What does it matter?"
She finally turned her body around. I gasped when I saw her face.
"Can't you make an exception? Please? Just this once, for my dear sister?"
Her eyes were completely red. Multiple trails of tears streamed them. Yet her speech was rather smooth and composed.
"Nepgear, you must set an example for your people, even if it's something small like this. As an aspiring CPU Candidate, nay, a fully-fledged CPU, you must appear authoritative as much as possible for the sake of your people."
"N-No, you flatter me, but I'm still too inexperienced for this..." said Nepgear, sounding abnormally bashful.
There was something clearly wrong. Nepgear definitely did not seem to be in the right state of mind. I needed to tread carefully.
"Nepgear..."
I floated closer to her. She withdrew by a step.
"No, Histoire, you can't come over here. I haven't showered yet, you see. I probably stink."
Nepgear curved her lips in a childish manner. Her left leg started vibrating uncontrollably.
"I stink. I stink, so... and I can't get rid of this smell, either..." she spoke while looking at her hands.
I felt a chill run down my spine. Sweat came out from every pore. For some reason, I was enveloped in some inexplicable nervousness, as if I was about to cross over some line.
I stopped moving.
I asked her, "Nepgear, when was the last time you took a shower?"
"Ten minutes ago," she answered immediately.
"And before that?"
"Ten minutes before that."
Nepgear turned around to gaze once more at Planeptune. She interlocked her hands behind her back. Her right hand grabbed onto her left hand to prevent the latter from shaking.
"What do you want to do, Nepgear?" I questioned her.
"Who knows," she replied nonchalantly, "Just stuff. Things."
She gave a great big stretch and let out a satisfied sigh. I thought she was done with whatever it was she was doing up here, staring at the land. Yet, she didn't move a single step.
Stagnation. That word came to mind. I remember Nepgear mentioning it briefly after the Deity of Sin was defeated.
"Nepgear... you wouldn't be setting such a good example for your sister right now," I said somewhat sternly, "You need to... you need to things together."
"Is that so," said Nepgear wistfully, "I don't want to let her down."
"I'm sure that Neptune is very very proud of you, Nepgear," I said with assurance, "I'm sure she's always looking over you in your heart."
"My sister is... in my heart?"
My own heart began pumping faster. My nervousness was so hot that my back was drenched in sweat.
"Nepgear, that is—"
Nepgear stared at me expectantly like a malnourished puppy. The Most Powerful looked like the impoverished.
"Histoire, please tell me," meekly spoke Nepgear.
The answer to that should have been obvious to a girl who was once as pure as lilacs. But I sensed a different purpose. Her insistence was presenting me with an ultimatum.
What was to be my answer? Search and search, Histoire. Flip through your pages.
"Tell me, Histoire... Answer me..."
Love and friendship. Lies and truth. Justice and murder. Betrayal and power. Stagnation and progress.
"Answer me... answer me..."
Planeptune, the land of purple progress. Gamindustri, the domain of Purple Sister. Damnation, the fate of the old goddesses. Graveyard, the purpose-filled monster.
"HISTOIRE ANSWER ME!"
The records could not provide me with a satisfactory answer. Therefore, I had to rely on intuition, the accursed thing that had sent the four goddesses to a year-long exile.
"Nepgear."
I looked straight at her darkened eyes.
"Yes. Your sister is in your heart."
"I see."
That evil sword was unsheathed ere my bewilderment. Its shadowy edge leaked malice. Nepgear — Purple Sister — wielded that cursed sword — Gehaburn.
"My sister... is inside!"
That was pierced. Impaled through her chest. Ripped out, even as my arms became outstretched. Her beating heart, with its desperate autonomy, dripped in her left hand.
"Sister... you... where are you...?"
The accursed sword clanged onto the ground. Purple Sister fell to her knees. A putrid stench, like none other recorded in my pages, filled the air.
"Liar."
The pulsing organ was far to contain the body of an entire girl. She held up that gnarled flesh in front of her.
"Liar!"
It stung.
And it consumed the last of her life.
The heart-less body collapsed forward like a crumbling temple. It was the end of Gamindustri.
I felt responsible. I felt horrified. I felt greatly saddened. But most of all, I felt disgusted.
I looked down at the still body of a former goddess and at the Malice Sword. Whether it was because the sword had already reached full capacity or because the cause of death was indirect, nothing was absorbed into the sword, and the resultant corpse was left behind.