CHAPTER 4: ARAMIA – THE WORLD OF LAST THURSDAYISM
Have you ever imagined yourself suddenly appearing, completely naked, in the middle of a grand banquet hall filled with nobles, inside a massive, Gothic-style castle?
Well, that's exactly what happened to me when I arrived in Aramia.
To be honest, I have to give whoever arranged my transfer some credit—landing me right in the center of the action was impressively precise. The real issue, of course, was that I arrived without a single stitch of clothing. Yes, totally naked! Only one bizarre item remained in my possession: that stupid Canadian Royal Police officer's hat, somehow still clutched in my hand.
I'd never studied the finer points of Aramian nobility. I hadn't played the game – there were no computers on downgraded Earth, only read the manga. But at that moment, none of that mattered. I stood there on their long, polished dining table, trembling and mortified, wishing I could vanish into the void. The nobles, who had been dining just a moment earlier, were now staring wide-eyed in shock. If I was embarrassed, they were more stunned than anything else.
I glanced around, taking in their astonished faces, then looked to the head of the table. There, seated in a chair with the tallest back, was the queen. No one else could radiate such regal beauty and grace. Her gown sparkled with jewels like a living treasure trove. Next to her sat a girl about my age, a near mirror image of the queen. She wore a similar style of dress, and her pale, marble-like skin was highlighted by a graceful crown adorned with a red rose. There could be no doubt that this was the princess I'd read about in Kunisada's manga—the very reason I'd ended up here in the first place.
I swallowed hard, my face reddening further beneath their gazes. Unlike the others, the queen and princess did not appear especially shocked. The queen regarded me with an icy, appraising look. The princess, curious, let her eyes drift down to my groin. Panicked, I immediately covered the intimate place with the hat. The princess giggled, politely covering her mouth with one hand, and the queen smiled slightly.
That small giggle broke the tension. Soon, the entire noble assembly began to laugh, following their rulers' lead. I stood there, frozen, not sure whether to mumble an apology or beg for mercy. In my head, I cursed Octagon and the entire Galactic Union. So absurdly comic was my arrival to Aramia — "the land of fallen heroes". This wasn't a game, a novel, or a manga anymore. This was a real thing, a living fantasy world, and I was right in the middle of it, naked and humiliated on spot. Damn you, Crabo-Omar! Damn you!
...
It was completely predictable that I'd end up in a dungeon. Two guards led me down there and locked me behind a wide metal grate covering the entire front wall of the cell. I'd seen this kind of dungeon setup in manga before. Here, in reality, it was reproduced with painstaking accuracy: a wooden bed, a magical crystal giving off a greenish light jammed into the tip of a torch, which was in turn fixed into a holder on the wall outside my cell. With a clang, the barred door closed, and there I stood inside my new home. Congratulations on the new place, I thought to myself with a hint of relief. Considering the circumstances, this was still better than the mortifying moment when I stood naked on a table, laughed at by aristocrats. That was disgustingly embarrassing.
And 'Disgustingly embarrassing' barely begins to describe it. And that condescending giggle from the princess?! And the way she looked right at that spot?! What a nightmare! I wasn't even blushing from shame anymore. Even if they weren't real humans, just synthetic beings created long ago to entertain my ancestors, it still hurts.
I sat down on the bed, calming myself. I ran my hand over the mattress; it was fairly clean. Not surprising. This dungeon, like the entire world here, had been created only a few weeks ago. No one had ever been locked in this cell before. It reminded me of that old conspiracy theory my father once laughed about. Something called "Last Thursdayism." The hypothesis claimed that the entire world was created last Thursday, including all our childhood memories, our past, our knowledge—absolutely everything! Of course, it's an outrageous bit of nonsense. But in this case, this world was literally created exactly according to that recipe. The recipe of "Last Thursdayism!" And now I was inside such a world! A world of last Thursday! What was it also called? Olafsen's hypothesis, I suppose.
I sighed and cursed under my breath. How could I have forgotten? I'm a citizen of the Galactic Union! I have access to the system's guardian—an invisible guardian angel with a pleasant female voice, ready to protect my life and ensure the safety of a full-fledged Galactic citizen!
"Timm Thaler , go to hell!" I shouted.
My invisible guardian angel's voice immediately responded, "I'm listening to your request, citizen of the Galactic Union!"
"I want to get out of here."
For some reason, there was a brief pause. Then, a clicking sound, like someone hanging up a phone. Finally, the assistant's voice replied to my request:
"I'm sorry, but on this planet I cannot fulfill your request. This is a protected zone, off-limits to citizens of the Galactic Union."
"Wait! But I'm allowed to be here, right? I mean, I'm human," I objected hotly, vaguely realizing that that damned Crab-Lobster had neglected to warn me about these details.
"Yes, you're allowed to be here. But your presence cancels out some of your privileges. As long as you remain in this Galactic Union sanctuary zone, the system cannot fully meet your needs. Both technical and legal barriers prevent it."
"Hold on! What if I starve to death here? You won't intervene?"
"No. If it endangers your health or life, you'll be provided with food."
"And if they torture me?"
"Any pain will be blocked."
At least there was that to ease my mind.
I sighed again and complained, not really expecting them to comply with my every whim.
"By the way, I'm thirsty. Not drinking water is bad for my health."
Immediately, a tiny whirlwind appeared in the air, and inside it, as if by magic, there emerged a plastic bottle filled with a clear liquid. I barely managed to grab it before the teleportation process finished and the bottle of water fell on the floor.
After drinking, I put the bottle on the small table beside the bed and decided to experiment, to figure out what I could count on. I needed to escape this prison to prevent the catastrophe looming over this world.
"Can you teleport me a weapon? A pistol, say?"
"No."
"Open this cell?"
"No."
"Give me the keys to the door?"
"No."
"Damn! You're such a useless assistant!"
"No."
"And what about my belongings that disappeared before I landed here?"
"They included firearms and technology incompatible with the local tech level."
"So your, um, 'customs' refused to let them through?"
"The term 'customs' does not apply in this case, the Citizen of the Galactic Union, Timm Thaler . Your items were blocked by the local Aramia control system."
"Okay, I got it. It refused to let them through because of the weapons. But what about the other things? Clothing, a tent, knives, a bow and arrows, for example?"
"Your belongings are here with you, stored in a hidden space. If you lose your status as a Galactic Union citizen, you'll be able to retrieve them."
I was surprised by her words. Something wasn't right here!
"Wait! What about the technological gap with the local level of development?"
"Settling in Aramia as a local citizen allows you to bring items from Earth and its technological level."
"Something like a personal baggage allowance?"
"Yes."
I thought about it. I shouldn't rush. If I give up my citizenship, I'll be stuck here—in a fantasy world on the brink of apocalypse. That's not a good option. Besides, what would I do with that gear? Shoot the locals? Ridiculous! I'm no murderer, and I'm certainly no soldier. And even if I could stop an invasion by Red Giants with just two .357 revolvers and a lever action rifle, I'd still be stuck here afterward, trapped in a post-apocalyptic world inhabited by insanely beautiful synthetic people and demi-humans, among whom I look like an ugly high schooler. And let's not forget I'm naked. They didn't give me any clothes yet. They even took my hat – the only survived the transfer item. There had been something tied inside it, something I never got the chance to inspect.
"Hey, system? Why were my clothes taken away? They weren't exactly high-tech, were they?"
"Your clothing contained technological fibers incompatible with this world's developmental level."
"What the hell kind of fibers are we talking about? And what about the hat?"
"I have no information on that item. Please clarify."
"How can that be? I arrived here naked, but with a hat given to me by a Canadian Mounted Police officer! Stupid system, you should have recorded that!"
"Apologies, Citizen of the Galactic Union, Timm Thaler . I have no record of such an item. Perhaps you imagined it…"
"Go to hell!"
"I'm listening, Citizen of the Galactic Union…"
"Shut up and disconnect already!"
I sighed again. Damn! Damn it all! What should I do? Sitting here, I'm wasting precious time, and this damned system is absolutely no help. A sanctuary zone! Why didn't Octagon or even my father warn me about such nuances back on the Earth? Maybe they didn't know themselves. That's possible!..
Just then, my train of thought was interrupted by the sound of metal hinges of a door opening out in the dungeon corridor. Someone had come to pay me a visit! I steeled myself and got ready. I needed to come up with a believable story so they'd let me out—and return that hat with whatever was inside it. It must've been important, otherwise Octagon wouldn't have given it to me. I already suspected that the officer probably was him, disguised. I should've worn the damn hat, if it was that important!