LIGHT 06: Observation and Reality

LIGHT 06: Observation and Reality

Lumira and the others had moved to an observation management facility for the collapsed zone.

The facility stood near the outer edge of the collapse area, enclosed by thick stone walls. Once inside, rows of observation devices lined both sides of the passage, and pale threads of light drifted quietly across the walls.

Distortion occurrence records.

Regional fluctuation trends.

Recognition error rates.

Countless records surfaced as letters of light.

The light was orderly.

No wavering.

No disturbance.

And that order made it feel even more unnatural.

The administrators stood before the observation panels, each checking the displays. No one raised their voice, and there were few footsteps. Inside the facility, only the low pulse of pale light echoed softly.

“Distortion occurrence rate, stable.”

One administrator reported.

“Large-scale fluctuations trending toward convergence.”

Another voice followed.

According to the records, the collapsed zone had begun to settle.

Lumira looked up at the display while still supporting Elia.

Elia’s breathing was still shallow. Each time she walked, her center of gravity swayed a little late, and even the sound of her toes scraping the floor was slightly out of sync.

She had not returned yet.

And still, the records showed stability.

Lumira adjusted her hold on Elia’s shoulder and turned her gaze back to the observation panel.

The three guardian bodies did not lower their guard, even inside the facility.

One remained near the entrance.

One stood behind Lumira and Elia.

The last stopped near the observation devices along the wall.

The luminous patterns running across its dark garments blinked faintly.

That guardian body turned its face quietly toward the space inside the facility.

It had caught something.

Lumira followed its gaze.

Between the wall and the observation panel.

The air, where nothing should have been, trembled thinly for a single instant.

A faint distortion reaction.

Not outside.

Inside the facility.

Something was wrong.

But the observation display did not change.

The entire area remained within normal range.

Only those words stayed there quietly in the pale light.

Lumira turned toward one of the administrators.

“I want to confirm the records of memory loss and recognition delay that occurred in the outer edge.”

The administrator operated the panel without emotion.

Light slid across the wall, and a different set of records appeared.

Distortion occurrence rate.

Spatial fluctuation value.

Observation stability index.

The numbers were arranged in fine detail.

But there were almost no records concerning the passersby’s brief memory lapses or delayed responses.

Even when they existed, they were marked only as:

Minor.

No supplementary report required.

Observation only.

That was all.

The records were thin.

Thinner than reality.

“The number of recognition discrepancies has decreased compared to previous levels,”

another administrator said quietly.

“Based on observation values, stabilization of the area is progressing.”

Their words were orderly.

But they did not align with the reality Lumira had seen.

Outside, people had nearly stopped moving.

They had forgotten where they were going.

And still, no one had cared.

Here, it was not even being recorded.

At that moment, one of the staff members working nearby suddenly stopped.

Their fingertips froze above the record board.

Only their gaze wavered, several seconds late.

As if the work in front of them had lost its meaning for a brief instant.

The staff member stood there, unable to find their own hands.

Lumira looked at them.

One of the guardian bodies turned its face in the same direction.

Again.

But a few seconds later, the staff member moved their fingers as if nothing had happened and resumed their work.

The administrators around them did not react.

No one called out.

No one recorded it.

It was not being treated as a problem.

They did not stop.

Not here, either.

The light patterns on the guardian bodies strengthened slightly.

A very faint disturbance of light remained around the staff member.

It was not strong.

But it was certainly there.

Lumira stepped toward the observation panel and checked the error record display.

The letters of light changed.

It showed that a certain number of small observation errors had occurred.

But beside every one of them, the same process was listed.

Auto-corrected.

Correction complete.

Converged to normal value.

Again and again.

Repeatedly.

The values that had appeared as abnormalities were being shaved down inside the records, arranged, and returned to the normal range.

Lumira did not move as she stared at the display.

In reality, the abnormalities were continuing.

But in the records, they were being erased.

Cut away.

Made into something that had never happened.

One of the administrators approached.

“After correction, the values have not reached the danger range.”

The voice was calm.

“Minor errors are subject to observation stabilization. As long as the corrected values converge to normal, the current state is judged stable.”

Lumira slowly raised her gaze.

Stable.

That word alone blended naturally into the air of the facility.

Delays in reality.

Missing memories.

Disturbances in light.

Here, they were not treated as fear.

They were treated as processing targets.

No.

These were not things that should be processed away.

The display board inside the facility blinked quietly.

Minor errors are subject to observation stabilization.

The letters rose in a pale, composed light.

It was not a warning.

Not a caution.

It looked as though the process had been planned from the beginning.

Lumira’s hand tightened slightly on Elia’s shoulder.

At this rate, Elia’s abnormality would be placed in the same category.

Minor.

Corrected.

Within normal range.

Immediately after that.

A notification arrived from a distant area, reporting a new distortion.

A short warning light ran across one section of the observation panel.

The administrators inside the facility all turned toward the display at once.

A light close to red trembled for a single instant, and the air tightened faintly.

It was coming.

But the tension did not last long.

The notification was sent into correction processing.

The display changed.

New distortion detected.

Classification changed.

Minor fluctuation.

The warning light disappeared.

The facility began to recover its silence.

The administrators returned to their work as if nothing had happened, and only the pale light of the observation panels continued to flow across the walls.

The abnormalities were happening.

Even now.

Certainly.

And still, only the records continued to be returned to normal.

Then.

On one of the observation panels deep inside the facility, the light cut out for a single instant.

It was only a brief blank.

But in the next moment, from the displayed staff identification list, one person’s record quietly disappeared.

— Lumi 🪄💕

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Archive Access

Additional observation records remain partially restricted.

Recovered fragments are available through authorized access only.