7. Prescription
"The sun?"
I asked, trying to stay as calm as possible.
"But isn't the sun even hotter?"
"Yes, the sun is hot," the engineer explained.
"But it's not humid. Can you feel the difference?"
"I can't," I replied, unable to say anything else.
I was too overwhelmed with panic to think about the cause.
But where was this panic coming from?
"You don't seem that scared, though," the engineer said.
I nodded, feeling he was right.
"Honestly, that's true."
"But you feel like you should be scared."
"Something like that."
The engineer nodded.
"Probably because, for humans, death is the scariest thing, so you're programmed to feel that way."
"Do you feel the same, Doctor?" I couldn't help but ask. "Aren't you programmed to fear death?"
"No, I am, of course," he said, taking a sip from a mug on the bar counter, filled with black coffee that swirled like a black hole.
"But it's a bit different from your state of knowing you should feel fear. Fundamentally, we're both programmed to feel fear, though."
"Yeah…"
I couldn't help but slip into a negative mood.
"Even with metacognition, I can't change the programming itself."
"Exactly," he said, continuing to knit with hands moving at nearly one-tenth the speed of light.
"No matter how much I chose to be an engineer, or even if I chose this path to somehow overcome the fear of death, it's impossible. This programming isn't artificial—it's tied directly to the natural will of the universe, the tendency toward increasing entropy. There's no escaping it."
As we talked, I glanced to the side and noticed Jinri, who had come with me, had slipped into sleep mode.
She was sitting in a corner of the bar, charging with a cable plugged into her ear like wired earphones.
"Let's get back to the point," the engineer said suddenly, stopping his knitting and turning to me.
It seemed he was about to give me a prescription.
"For now, I'll give you a prescription."
"Yes, please."
The engineer glanced at the only awake black cat among the glass cats. The cat made a motion as if coughing up a hairball, producing something that the engineer picked up. With deft hands, he worked the hairball like knitting, transforming it into a clean A4-sized sheet of paper.
He handed it to me.
I read it:
"Leave Tropical Night City. Seek the sun. Time remaining: 168 hours."
I stared at the prescription, burning it into my memory over the course of a long second.
Perhaps I stared too intensely, because the paper literally caught fire and turned to ash.
"So?" the engineer asked. "Burned into your eyes so even amnesia can't make you forget?"
"Yes, something like that."
"Good."
The engineer stepped down from his stool.
Beneath it, a vibrant carpet stretched out, centered around an endless black hole, with konpeito-like candies being sucked in. There was no place to step, and for a moment, I worried this small boy might be swallowed by the black hole. But he didn't fall—he floated in midair.
Like a cosmic sage.
The hem of his white coat brushed the black-hole floor, tinged with the colorful glow of konpeito-like lights.
This sage-like engineer, moving as if a video had been paused, slowly approached me.
I watched the scene with a solemn feeling, as if possessed by a ghost or caught between a nightmare and a pleasant dream.
"You probably don't have time to visit a pharmacy," he said.
"So I'll give you the medicine directly."
He handed me the completed product of his high-speed knitting.
It was a scarf.
A fluffy, sky-blue scarf, like a diluted soft drink, reminiscent of the one worn by the Little Prince.
I took it and asked, "What's this?"
"A painkiller," the engineer explained.
"As time passes, you're likely to get headaches. Well, maybe not, but if they do happen, you'll probably feel cold."
"In this summer heat?"
"Yes. When your body's immune software kicks in due to infection, your temperature regulation program goes haywire. It's a very human trait, isn't it?"
"So, I should only wear it if I get a headache?"
"I wouldn't recommend that."
The engineer pulled out a pipe-like bubble wand from his pocket and began pouring clear liquid into a small bottle, like lighting a lighter.
The liquid was transparent, but when he blew through the wand, pale purple neon-like bubbles floated out, drifting like faint smoke.
They emitted a dizzyingly sweet fragrance.
With a blissful expression, like a child savoring sweets, the engineer continued explaining the medicine's precautions.
"If you wait until the headache starts to wear the painkiller, it'll take time to work. Keep it on, and it'll suppress the headache before it gets bad. It's preventive—like putting out a fire before it spreads."
"I see," I nodded reluctantly, looking down at the thick, hot-looking scarf in my hands.
The craftsmanship was exquisite, each stitch imbued with care. It was a plain design with no patterns, but I preferred plain over patterned things. I couldn't help but think the engineer had somehow read my preferences in making it.
I found myself liking this engineer.
"Thank you," I said, bowing to him, deciding I'd wear it without complaint.
"How much are the consultation and medicine fees?"
When he told me the amount, I took out my wallet and checked inside.
There was no electronic money—just coins. And those coins had depreciated just 0.0003 seconds ago, barely covering the total by 0.003 yen.
"You can just about cover it," the engineer said with a wry smile, sending the black cat that had coughed up the prescription earlier toward me.
The cat came to my side and took exactly the amount needed from my wallet, leaving just 0.003 yen.
And so, my entire fortune was reduced to 0.003 yen.
As I finished paying, Jinri woke up, stretching.
"Is it over?"
"Yeah," the engineer answered her.
Jinri looked at me, flashing a relieved smile.
"That's good."
"Well, not exactly," I replied.
"Oh, right…" Her face clouded instantly. "You're on the brink of death, aren't you?"
"Pretty much."
"Well then," the engineer said, wrapping things up, his expression suddenly shifting to one of disinterest in both of us.
"The next patient is waiting."
"Okay."
I stood up smoothly from the stool, and together with Jinri, I floated naturally over the konpeito-filled black-hole floor, leaving the consultation room.