Surviving Among the Anomalies - Chapter 18

WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Alyo

◈ Surviving Among the Anomalies ◈

Chapter 18: Artwork

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The world my right eye showed me lasted only an instant. We say that time passes, but within it, time did not flow. From beginning to end, every process and outcome was stamped into my mind like a single seal.

“I watched every work you filmed through certain means. They were truly impressive.”

That was why, in that instant, I had seen all 131,272,211 reshoots they had filmed. I did not remember every one, but I remembered what most of their works had in common.

“Works filled with violence and sex, blood and drugs, gore and twists, all to give the audience catharsis, were very interesting. If your productions became known in the world I live in, there would surely be endless arguments online.”

No matter the genre, they always included primal stimulation. It was as though a work without blood, corpses, and murder could not be called a work at all.

“But it is excessive. Not every violent work lacks artistic merit. Some create clichés of primal entertainment, while others give violence new meaning and elevate it into art.”

Such primal entertainment heated up quickly, then cooled just as fast.

“Are the works you are filming commercial productions? Or art? No, there was no need to ask. Either way, excessive stimulation would make it difficult for them to gain recognition, commercially or artistically.”

I put a cigarette between my lips and lit it.

“One or two primal works are one thing, but do you think audiences will enjoy it if you keep shouting about nothing but violence and sex? No, they will not. Repeating the same pattern only makes it stale. People will grow bored quickly, and feel the same way about your later works as well.”

I drew the smoke deep into my lungs.

“In the end, no one will watch your works. Judging by the hundreds of millions of reshoots, you seem deeply devoted to your productions. Please do not take my words the wrong way. Think about them seriously.”

I hoped they would be persuaded and stop filming works saturated with nothing but primal violence.

“There is no answer.”

I chain-smoked and waited, but no response came.

“A master remains unsatisfied and continues challenging themselves until they achieve the work they want. People call this craftsmanship and praise their noble patience.”

It could not be helped. I would have to find another way.

“Amateurs sometimes imitate such behavior and call it craftsmanship. But do you know something? Craftsmanship only has meaning when a master does it. When an amateur does it, it means nothing. From what I have seen, your reshoots are not much different.”

First, I should return to the clearing.

[You.]

At that moment, a voice came from the sky.

[Hey.]

[You.]

[You bastard.]

[You there.]

[You bastard.]

As befitted a troupe, they were not one. Several voices rang out at once.

[You know art that well?]

The many voices became one.

“Well.”

I had knowledge of art. Learning was always important. Still, I had never entered the art world myself, nor had I ever created a work of art.

“But one thing is certain.”

I understood art better than those who relied on meaningless primal stimulation.

“Wouldn't I understand it better than you?”

＊＊＊

[Fine.]

The air suddenly grew heavy.

[You know so much? Then make one.]

[We will watch the work you film.]

[Haha! You dog, how dare you claim to know art better than us?]

Instinctively, I realized something had taken up residence within me.

[Go on. Film one.]

Just like them, I could invite anyone into a dream and control them however I wished.

The power to handle this dream stage however I wanted had entered me.

“I have two conditions.”

[Conditions?]

“Yes. First, while I am filming, you must not interfere. You must not obstruct the production, nor even watch it. Seeing the process of a work being made is like being spoiled. It lessens the enjoyment and emotion of watching the completed work.”

[Fine. We will not.]

“Second, the completed work will be judged by third parties. You and I have clashed over artistic opinions, so it would not be fair for only you to judge it.”

The sky agreed.

[We will call some too.]

[You call some, and we will call some.]

“Yes, let us do that.”

Then they said,

[If you lose, you will become our actor forever.]

I nodded.

“I accept.”

The weight pressing down on me disappeared. Had that weight been their gaze? My Physical Ability had improved, and perhaps my senses in that area had developed as well.

“Then…”

I closed my eyes. I could sense the other ninety-eight participants who had been dragged here by force.

“Let us send them back first.”

Fortunately, the power the troupe had given me was the sort that could be used easily, like a convenient and simple tool, without any training. With only a few thoughts, everyone but me vanished from this place in the blink of an eye.

“Then…”

It was time to film my work.

‘But what should I make?’

I had knowledge of films and plays, but I had never made one. Knowledge without practice and experience could hardly be expected to be useful. Difficulties awaited from the very beginning.

“…No.”

It did not need to be difficult. To oppose the troupe’s works filled with primal stimulation, I only had to make something that was their complete opposite.

‘A pure work of art with no violence at all.’

What was art?

‘A creative activity that expresses one’s emotions, thoughts, experiences, and imagination in various forms.’

The audience would be Anomalies. The beings the troupe would show the work to would likely be Anomalies as well.

“Art made by humans for Anomalies.”

I realized that this moment was extremely important.

‘A chance to let the Anomalies connected to the troupe learn about humanity through a work.’

What if I could show them human beauty, the preciousness of humanity, and human mystery?

‘At the very least, would the Anomalies connected to the troupe not help humanity?’

So they might be captivated by human beauty and cherish humans like jewels.

“Ah.”

I finished my thoughts and immediately used my power. The island vanished, and an ordinary city appeared.

‘There is no dialogue.’

I did not need other actors. I alone was enough. Using the power to manipulate dreams, I recorded everything that would happen from this moment on.

‘It expresses the two sides of human communication and miscommunication: that language has no meaning if the other person does not hear it, even when spoken aloud.’

I walked through the empty city, then kept walking. I walked for hours, and whenever I reached an intersection, I agonized for hours over which way to go.

‘It expresses that human life has no destination, that we merely live, and that before the countless crossroads of life, we are only insignificant beings.’

Before I knew it, the city had vanished and a desert appeared. Crossing the desert, I quenched my thirst whenever I came across an oasis.

‘But even in such a purposeless world, we find joy in the oasis-like moments of relief life brings.’

In the desert at night, I looked upon the darkness where countless stars formed the Milky Way. Without any boundary between time and space, I became a star shining among them.

‘But are humans alone in that? Everything in the world is the same. Nothing is special. Neither humans nor the world.’

In space, I removed my clothes. I displayed the pure human body for all to see.

‘Yet that is why humans are special.’

Naked in space, I danced. The movements had no meaning by themselves, but I carefully gave meaning to every motion of my hands and feet. They became choreography and lit up the world.

‘It is because humans exist that this world, created by meaningless probability amid quantum fluctuations, becomes special.’

I pointed at the stars. I gave them names in text beneath them, connected them to create constellations, and made them meaningful beings.

‘Because humans consider themselves special, they make everything special. They give names, carve meaning into things, and make every being in the world meaningful with themselves at the center.’

I stretched out a finger toward the dream filming me.

‘Even if it is an Anomaly.’

So, Anomalies, will you not take pity on us humans and become something special to us?

“Cut.”

I created a video containing all those meanings. Once everything ended, I returned to the original island. The video I had filmed became a small Bead resting on my palm.

“Perfect.”

Looking at the sky, I called them.

“I have finished filming.”

[Finally.]

[It is time to punish you.]

[An amateur dares mock us.]

[We will show you the bitter taste of reality.]

Amid the commotion, a serious voice spoke.

[Before we call those who will judge it, we wish to see the work first.]

“Here it is.”

The air grew heavy. I could feel their gazes turning toward the Bead on my palm.

[…]

After a long silence, they spoke.

[What the hell is this?]

[This is supposed to be a work?]

[Are you making fools of us?]

[This is not a work!]

I had already expected this reaction.

“You really are soaked in dopamine. That is why you cannot recognize art. It is a shame that only primal stimulation can affect you anymore.”

[So that was it. You deliberately provoked us to rescue the other participants. What remarkable self-sacrifice.]

“No, I sincerely filmed this as art. Can you not feel the philosophy contained in this work?”

[It makes no sense! No sense at all!]

More importantly, it was about time to call a being who could judge it fairly.

‘It should not be humans.’

With my current power, I could abduct humans, but this was a work meant to be shown to Anomalies. Naturally, I needed to call an Anomaly to judge it.

‘Who should I call?’

I had only met the Mysterious Merchant once. The number of meetings was not necessarily proportional to the depth of a relationship, but I was still unsure whether I should call them.

‘The Girl with Her Eyes Closed?’

No. The girl said she would only watch me. Even if I called, she did not seem likely to come or do anything.

‘Then only one remains.’

I closed my eyes and used my power. Through the Notebook in My Head, I clearly recalled the one I knew and tried to bring it here.

[You crazy bastard!]

[What are you doing!]

[You, you!]

At that moment, the troupe took back the power they had given me.

[Who in the world did you call!?]

In the instant before the power was taken away, I felt it. In that brief instant, the one I had called sensed this place and was destroying everything to force its way inside.

[Ah, damn it!]

[That lunatic is coming!]

[That troublesome bastard is coming!]

[Run! It is coming!]

[Dammit! This is a world where it exists!? This place is blacklisted! I am never coming here again!]

Soon, the sky turned blue.

『O fleeting dream, foolish artists, lackeys of blood and madness, pitiful playwrights whose works do not sell, children of conceit and arrogance.』

A gigantic Blue Moon covered in countless ears, eyes, and mouths filled the sky.

『How dare you summon me.』

Before it was too late, I greeted it first.

“Hello.”

Expecting the judgment of a pure Anomaly not soaked in dopamine.