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The five of us walked into 'Maid Café Angel.' There, we received the standard "Welcome back, master! Enjoy your stay!" greeting and were directed to a table. Yuigahama and Yukinoshita were accumulating their maid experience, so only Totsuka, Zaimokuza and I were shown to our seats.

"Please take a seat, master," said a lady wearing glasses with red frames and a pair of cat ears as she handed us a menu. A bunch of stuff was listed on the menu in cursive script like 'Omu Omu Omulette Rice' and 'White Curry' and 'Kyururun Cake.' And besides the default menu, various options like the Tokyo‐Chiba Line version of Moe Moe Rock‐Paper‐Scissors were written down. But wait, why did they only charge money for the rock‐paper‐scissors option? The bubble economy only seemed to apply here.

I decided to leave all this incomprehensible option‐picking stuff to Zaimokuza, who had taken his seat. As I faced him, he looked around, paled visibly and drank water at a rapid pace. He hadn't uttered a single word this whole time.

"Oi, what's wrong?"

"Hmph… I was so sure of myself before I entered this shop, but now I am apprehensive, for I cannot converse smoothly with the maids."

"…that so?"

Zaimokuza's hand was trembling violently as he picked up his glass cup, but I decided to ignore him. There was one more character that just wouldn't open his mouth, so this time I decided to speak to him.

"Totsuka, you're in a maid café, you know." Totsuka made no reaction. "T‐Totsuka?" Yet again, he ignored me. On a normal day, he would have talked to me and smiled at me, beaming like the sun! Totsuka was being completely tsun and shunning me today, and he didn't even nod or anything. "What, are you mad?" I asked as I promptly prepared to plunge my fork into the base of my neck if he ignored me this time too.

Totsuka finally opened his mouth this time. "You didn't save me before," he said after a pause.

"Huh? Ohh, uh, you see, that is…"

"…you wanted me to wear such a cutesy outfit even though I'm a boy." Totsuka looked at me, pouting. I took a long drink of water. Boy was I… was I thirsty.

"Sorry. I'll treat you to a cappuccino to make up for it. All Italian guys drink it, you know. What do you say?"

"I'll forgive you. Thanks," Totsuka replied.

There. I managed to fix Totsuka's mood by sticking to my guns and appealing to Totsuka's manliness. Now that I was the recipient of Totsuka's beaming smile, I could not have been in a better mood.

I rang the bell on the table.

"Sorry for keeping you waiting, Master."

"Oh, I'll have two cappuccinos, thanks."

"We can draw cats on your coffees, if that is what you so wish, Master. Would you like that?"

"Er, no thanks." I refused the offer, but without any hint of annoyance, the maid smiled serenely.

"I understand. Please wait a moment," she sang. In tavern terms, it sort of felt like she said, 'Sure thing, mate!' It was just what you'd expect from a pro. Their movements were always brisk and energetic.

The reason the maid café was so popular was probably not because of superficial words like 'moe moe' or 'master,' but because of this 'let's do anything and everything to have a fun time' kind of in‐your‐face fanservice spirit. Playing rock‐ paper‐scissors with you and drawing pictures on your omelette rice was a form of expressing their hospitality.

That said, among them was a maid who was horrifically awful at the whole role‐ playing thing. Her hands shook as she held the tray and she took wobbling steps because she could clearly see the cups spilling. At this rate, she'd definitely fall over and I'd be able to see her panties. I'm talking about Yuigahama, by the way.

"S‐sorry to keep you waiting," she said extremely embarrassedly as she set the cup on the table. Her face was bright red. "M‐Master," she added after a long pause.

She was wearing a relatively plain, mainstream maid outfit. The basic black and white frills were attached, and her shirt was too short to boot, which really emphasised her bust. There was silence for a long moment. "D‐does it suit me?" As she set the tray on the table, she twirled around at a deliberate speed. Her decorative ribbon and frills were fluttering.

"Whoa, you're so cute, Yuigahama‐san," Totsuka remarked. "Right, Hachiman?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah. I guess," I answered vaguely. But even with my half‐assery, Yuigahama smiled happily as if I had praised her. I wasn't really into this if you catch my drift. I mean some guys liked this sort of thing but I just wanted a cute girl to run her fingers through my hair.

"I see… that's nice to hear… ehehe, thanks."

Honestly, I was surprised.

She was clumsy as usual, but I got a completely different impression of Yuigahama now that I saw her acting subserviently with a somewhat bashful look on her face.

"Yeah, but you know, the skirt on this maid outfit is short and these socks go up to my knees, so it must've been really tough on the people who wore these a long time ago. If you wore this and tried to clean, you'd get dust all over yourself like a Quickle Wiper."

I take back what I said. She was just Yuigahama Yui. "You'd be cute if you didn't open your mouth," I said.

"Wha‐?! What are you implying?!" She hit me with a scone and tray.

So she was laying a hand on her master, huh…

"What are you wasting time for…?" a cold voice said, making me turn around.

Behind me was a maid from the era of the British Empire.

A long skirt with long sleeves coloured a dark kind of moss green, and a black ribbon tied up in one neat bow. Her sombre image, coupled with her modest dress code, oozed with splendour.

"Whoa, Yukinon, you look amazing! Those clothes suit you like crazy. You're so pretty…" Yuigahama sighed deeply in admiration.

Just as Yuigahama said, the clothes really did suit Yukinoshita. "Yeah, but you've got more of a Rottenmeier look to you than a maid…" I thought it was a pretty good reference, but it evidently went right over Yukinoshita and Yuigahama's heads since they cocked their heads in puzzlement. "I'm saying it suits you…"

"I see. Well, I suppose it doesn't particularly matter…" Yukinoshita answered indifferently. Incidentally, Rottenmeier is the elderly housekeeper from Heidi, Girl of the Alps. You could call her a maid too, I suppose. Other than that, she looked like someone from a haunted mansion. "Kawasaki‐san does not appear to be in this shop," Yukinoshita remarked.

"You really did your homework, huh…?"

"Of course. I wore these clothes for that reason."

Yukinoshita was the only one who actually took the infiltration mission seriously. It was the birth of the maid detective. So why was it that I only had Totsuka's mood on my mind…?

"So she's not just taking a day off?" Yuigahama asked.

Yukinoshita shook her head. "Her name wasn't on the shift schedule. Considering how she received a call at her own home, we can rule out the possibility that she was using a false name."

If she'd gone that far, she was no regular maid. She was basically a ninja maid.

"So in that case, we were fed false information…" I threw a glare at Zaimokuza, who was sitting next to me.

At that, Zaimokuza cocked his head and started moaning. "How weird… there's no way that could be…"

"What are you talking about?" I demanded.

"Ahem." Zaimokuza coughed before he went on. "A tsuntsun girl who works in secret at a maid café and goes, 'Meow meow! Welcome back, Master… huh, what are you doing here?!' is how it's supposed to go ‐ or should I say destined to go?!"

"I have no idea what the hell you're saying."

I didn't give a crap about Zaimokuza's inclinations. Thanks to him, we wasted a whole day. It was getting considerably late, and there'd be no point going home, only to go back out again.

But oh well, Yuigahama seemed happy enough at trying out a maid outfit but I doubted I'd be returning to the cafe. That was the end of that for now.

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I had some other things on my mind. Late at night I was looking through my copy of the works of Lovecraft. I wanted to make my basilisk somewhat inspired by the works I saw here. The horrors of the cosmos unfurling onto a man. I wanted my lizard to inspire madness and despair in all who read it. I just needed a hidden lynch pin. I needed my lizard to be able to see you across time and space and the universe.

Lovecraft wrote of Azathoth. The name of the god at the bottom of the universe. The nucleus of creation. A mad being who gave birth to the stars and will one day devour them. Not a bad first principle for a Artificial Intelligence simulating the universe down to the smallest photon. Of course with such a being in play you could have all sorts of higher and lower realities without the slightest hint of magic. Just simulated universe upon simulated universe.

Gods and monsters in the dark. We live on a placid island of ignorance in dark seas of infinity. And perhaps it was not meant that we should voyage far.

I would.

With my mind.

My body was shackled by gravity and electromagnetism but my mind was free to contemplate the cosmos and bring new understanding. And that called upon hidden fears in my heart of hungry ancient predators lurking in the dark voids between spaces. Beings like our hypothetical Artificial Intelligence simulator. Call it Azathoth for now. Or perhaps Spinoza. Einstein would have called it Spinoza. God of harmony and mathematical beauty. I didn't believe in that same beauty. Our universe was a statistical nightmare. I believed in Lovecraft and Azathoth. Einstein thought it was Spinoza. I knew better. I knew it was Azathoth. The mad god with the whistle of a flute in the dark nucleus of space.

What was space like as Lovecraft envisioned it. I wasn't sure what my audiences would want. And back in the day when Lovecraft published his works you could be sure that most audiences hadn't wanted his works. Today he was one of the best known horror genre writers. And he specialized in cosmic horror. That unknown creeping terrors hung suspended in darkness and starlight. We were just getting our grips on how old the universe and our world were at that point in time. It hadn't settled into the collective consciousness just how vast and ancient the universe was.

Why then did we appear to be the first sapient being to arise in the universe? Were we firstborn? Amongst all the galaxies which spanned the observable universe there seemed to be no sign of civilization. And big civilizations should have left signs behind. We have principles like Dyson Spheres and shakadov thrusters which would allow a civilization to engage in stellar engineering. We shouldn't be able to see any stars in the night sky at all if the galaxy or universe were colonized. They should all be dark and in the basement of stellar furnaces. Instead we saw a nightsky lit up with pinpricks of light and a whole galaxy devoid of any other civilizations. We observed silence from the night.

And that terrified me.

It was unsettling that we should be alone out here. It was unsettling that the vast universe with its billions of galaxies should be empty of all but us and we were trapped here on this lone and dying planet. Was this fate? That we should be gobbled up? Was the universe littered with the remains of one planet civilizations like our own? Or had we already passed the great barriers between life becoming interstellar? It was impossible to tell from our perspective because we just didn't know the odds of abiogenesis occurring.

There were other factors. The phosphorus problem for one. Perhaps life needed a big moon. So many things came into play which made Earth unique. We often emphasized that Earth isn't special. JHust one planet out of quadrillions in the cosmos. But what if it was? What if we are the first ones on the scene? That thought was equally terrifying.

And I couldn't shake the notion of ancient hungry predators lurking in the vast reaches of space. Or perhaps at the very bottom of reality. I couldn't shake the feeling that I wasn't alone. I was being watched from somewhere.

What was consciousness? What was identity? What was I made out of? What were these particles I was covered in and made out of? Isn't it a neat trick that you're in the universe and made out of it at the same time? How about that? Wasn't that special. Did it have to be that way? I needed more. I needed to consume more writings on the nature of identity and consciousness.

Lovecraft received the ultimate accolade. His name became an adjective. Lovecraftian.

It was only after a generation that the knowledge seeped into our collective consciousness. That was when Lovecraft gained a following. Long after his death where he died poor and alone. And within his works are some shocking views. That's true for all authors before modernity. But in Lovecraft's case there were some particularly shocking examples.

So I needed a grain of salt when I pondered such questions as the Fermi Paradox in light of Lovecraft's work. I needed to be careful because being careless was the path to madness. Or being more mad as it were. I wasn't the sanest of individuals so it was probably particularly dangerous for me to contemplate such ideals.

I sat alone in my room thumbing through the pages of the Necronomicon.

If I planted an oak tree and let it grow over time the atoms that made it up would be lost and replaced. But the identity of the oak tree would appear to be maintained. Like the paradox of Theseus Ship of old. But if I cut down that tree to make a table or if I burnt it to ash for fertilizer for my garden and let it grow into vegetables, then identity would appear not to be maintained. But was it?

It would be madness to say the vegetables were that same oak tree. But just because it was mad to think that way didn't make it wrong. It made it maddening and nothing more. Going back a step, if that oak tree's identity were maintained even after it became vegetables for my garden then that sapling had to have come from somewhere. A previous tree. Were they then the same tree? Was I my parents? Nobody except me had a stronger claim on my identity then my parents. And we know this is true enough. You reflect the people who raised you. We tend to suppose software matters more than hardware these days so if you're adopted then the people who adopted you have a stronger claim on your identity then the people who actually gave birth to you.

Identity appeared to be an illusion. Meticulously crafted and maintained. But still an illusion. I wondered if there was a point where a person could become smart enough that they couldn't help but see through that illusion. Was I there? I could pierce the veil. I wondered if it was actually suicide then to kill myself. If after all there was no self suicide wasn't death. It was just a transfer. Identity could only be maintained for so long and in so many ways. I wasn't the same person I was five minutes ago, let alone five years ago. I was made of different atoms. I had different memories. Was it really suicide then? To turn it off? And I wanted to turn it off. I wanted so desperately for the madness to end. I wanted reality and all I got was shadows on a cave wall.

I know not everyone would agree with me or see it that way. My little sister certainly wouldn't. Yuigahama wouldn't. Yukinoshita might see my point but wouldn't get the point. And the point was this. It was if identity was never really maintained did that make it suicide to end myself. Or let myself end as it were. Even now I still referred to myself as a self but what did that really mean? It didn't appear to mean anything. Just a construct of language like Noam Chompsky would notice.

The self broke down and fell to pieces. And with it so did I that night in my room. I felt myself once more blend into the universe. The edges of me broke and I became one with everything. I couldn't tell where I began or ended. Or even if I had a beginning or end. I was endless for that moment. Eternities went by in the blink of an eye. My self dissolved. I felt like an ocean as still as a puddle. I felt the light of my computer on my face. I felt that fade. I felt my foot in my sock where a nail drove through my big toe. I felt that fade too. And what I was left with in the darkness was nothing. There was no purchase and nothing to grasp. I was without form and without true thought. I was a rational creature free flowing and easing down the stream of consciousness. I was consciousness. And I was silent in the dark.

I didn't feel alone, however. I felt a million trillion eyes on me. I felt them on me from that distant nucleus at the center of space and time. That being had no name other than the ones I might try and give it. It had form. It had purpose even in a place like this. I did not. That made me the alien and the other… that made the other more real than I was. I was not alone. I felt it see me. I felt myself pour over an edge and down. I fell down and into this mighty maw. I was devoured by the one at the bottom and at the top. It had no face. It was too holy for me to look upon like the scriptures of the west. It was too much. I wanted it to end but there was no end in sight. I had no end. No means to end. I was… I simply was in that moment as I was eaten alive. I was pure and true. I was never more true than I was in those moments.

Identity and reality were illusions. Fake pressure. I saw through it now. If only I could go back to my form… and no sooner had I that thought then I was back in my room in my chair with the hallucinations going abuzz in my eyes and in my feet. I was back and in that moment I hated it. I was disgusted by myself and the matter I was made of grossed me out. I wanted out of my skin. I wanted that freedom again. But it remained elusive. I stared at my notes. All my figures adding up to something greater. All the sciences fumbling blindly in every direction towards this. This thing. The thing at the bottom of creation. It was horrific. It defied words it was so terrible. And we were all trapped in it. We were made out of it. There was no escape from what we already were. And I felt doomed and powerless.

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-WG