The little girl paused for a moment and looked up.
"What is anthropology, Headmistress?" she asked.
"It's a field of study, Marcia," said Headmistress Eloise gently. "I don't know much about it myself, but I do know that it deals with human culture, social structures, moral systems, and so on. Before the Great Blackout Era, it used to be a very prosperous branch of the social sciences."
"Really?" Marcia's gaze returned to the old book before her. "Then what do they do every day?"
Headmistress Eloise thought for a moment.
"…I suppose, as the title says, they go into the wilderness."
Marcia blinked. "You mean, like us—going out to gather wild vegetables every day?"
Eloise chuckled and shook her head. "Not quite. They would go to explore ancient tribes, live and talk with people deep in the jungles, and try to understand their ways of life. Sometimes anthropologists would visit caves where early humans once lived… They were people who tried to discover where human civilization began, and where it might one day end."
Marcia eagerly turned the worn pages of the old book before her.
"Did they ever find the answer?"
"Well…" Eloise smiled. "That's not something one can explain in just a few words."
"But Miss Eloise says only lies are complicated—truth is always simple, and doesn't need fancy words," Marcia said, raising her head again. "Is that true?"
Eloise laughed softly. "Yes, Jane… Miss Eloise is quite right."
The old woman reached out and flipped to the appendix at the end of the book. "But this morning I read something—perhaps not as simple as that. Would you like to hear it?"
"Yes!" Marcia said eagerly.
Eloise lifted the girl again so she wouldn't slide off her lap. Holding Marcia's tiny fingers, she guided her as they read slowly together from the yellowed page.
The words were full of strange and difficult terms, making the little girl frown as her finger crept along the lines like a snail.
Softly, Eloise read aloud:
"Many years ago, someone asked the anthropologist Mina Delid which archaeological clue best marked the beginning of human civilization.
"People expected her to mention stone tools, cave paintings, or grain fossils showing signs of cooking. But Mrs. Delid did not.
"She said, 'The first sign of civilization is a broken thigh bone that has healed.'"
Marcia tilted her head. "What's a thigh bone, Headmistress?"
"It's this one right here," Eloise said, patting Marcia's leg lightly. "Your femur."
Hesta lowered her head again and began reading aloud on her own:
> "Ms. Delid said that in the wilderness, an animal with a broken leg will always die quickly.
It either dies of thirst or starvation—or soon becomes food for another predator.
If it must search for food while avoiding danger, its thigh bone could never heal.
"Yet we found a femur that had once been broken, and had healed again.
That means someone spent a long time taking care of that person.
"They stopped the bleeding for him, set the wound, carried him to a safe place,
and shared their food and water with him.
"When we find ourselves in hardship, yet still choose to help one another—
that is where civilization begins."
"Yes, Jane," Elma said softly, hugging Hesta close in her arms.
"When we find ourselves in hardship, yet still choose to help each other—
that is the beginning of our civilization."
Hesta felt herself surrounded by warmth and smiled as well.
But suddenly, everything around her changed.
The gentle afternoon sunlight vanished; the neat desk was covered in dust again;
the light dimmed, and a familiar sense of dread returned.
Hesta looked down and saw that the hands Elma used to hold her were now wrapped tightly in bandages.
"…"
"Eat," said that once-familiar voice, now cold and sharp.
A bandaged hand suddenly reached into Hesta's mouth.
"Eat it—"
At the height of terror, everything stopped.
A piercing pain struck her, as though every joint, every inch of skin was burning.
Hesta realized she had been lost in a dream—
a dream of that afternoon years ago when she and the Headmistress read together.
The image of the kind old woman overlapped with the monstrous form of the chelate creature.
Which one was real—and which one the dream?
She took a shallow breath, trying to move, but quickly found she couldn't.
A blindfold covered her eyes, yet she could still sense bright white lights above her
and the sterile smell of disinfectant filling the air.
"Awake?" a woman's voice suddenly whispered beside her ear.
"Don't move. Don't open your eyes. You're in a hospital now. You're safe."
Hesta's body trembled.
"Relax. Breathe," the voice continued.
"Don't be afraid. The pain you feel is normal.
That creature's blood splashed into your eyes, so we had to treat them.
You'll need to keep the bandages on for a while."
Hesta tried to speak,
but what came out was only a faint, broken murmur she herself couldn't understand—
followed by a sharp, burning pain in her throat.
"Trying to talk? If yes, move your fingers."
All ten of Hesta's fingers twitched slightly.
The woman chuckled. "The doctor said your throat was slightly corroded by acid—
probably because you bit the creature.
We've treated it; you'll recover by tomorrow."
Hesta lay quietly, listening.
The woman's voice was unlike Elma's or Sister Gelding's.
She spoke quickly, evenly, each sentence short and precise—
no dragging tones, no excess emotion.
Hesta heard the scrape of a chair being pulled closer.
The woman sat by her bedside.
"I know you probably have a lot of questions," she said.
"When you've recovered, I'll explain everything.
But for now, can you answer a few questions for me?
You only need to reply yes or no—
if yes, stay still; if no, move your fingers.
Understand?"
Hesta didn't move.
"Good," the woman said with a small smile. "Then let's begin.
Your name is Jane Hesta?"
"You were born south of Taney City, near Shortcall Alley?"
"You were born in the year 4612, making you eleven years old now.
Sister Gelding brought you to Saint Annie's Orphanage in 4620,
when you were eight—is that right?"
"And…" Chiba paused for a moment.
"You're a Hesta from District Fourteen?"
Hesta's fingers twitched.
The woman studied her. "Do you mean no or don't know?
If no, move again. If don't know, stay still."
Hesta remained motionless.
"Don't know."
The woman waited for a while, then smiled faintly.
"Haha, that's no surprise.
Other than a Hesta, who else would have such bright red hair?
But if you don't even know whether you're a Hesta,
then who gave you that name?"
Hesta couldn't answer—only silence.
"I see," the woman said softly.
"That's all the questions I have for now."
The room fell silent except for the faint scratching of her pen.
After a while, she spoke again:
"Oh, right—about the orphanage.
There are some things I can tell you now.
Do you want to hear them?
If yes, move your fingers."
(End of Chapter)
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