kept insisting we were equal Iâd never think about it , thought Hazuki.
People who lived in the same region didnât have intimate relations to begin with. Most communications took place on monitors through cables, so there was no way of knowing where they lived or what thy looked like; their gender, age, or even ethnicity.
The information broadcast through the wires was the only reality. Most of reality was a lie.
There was no difference between truth and falsehood.
There was no point in knowing it.
Proof of this lay in the fact that Hazuki had no idea of the names or provenance of most of the people sheâd physically met in communication groups.
Under that circumstance, Hazuki thought it would be difficult for these same people to start any kind of antagonism.
Maybe these were just the ramblings of a child.
Hazuki took another look at the view. She couldnât get her eyes used to it. She couldnât get used to either the front or back. If the cityscape were in a monitor, it wouldnât matter how dissimilar the elements were on screen, sheâd just turn her head and be in her room again.
She couldnât get stable. The width of the road, height of the buildings, and layout of the city were all curiously inconsistent, her sense of scale totally inverted. She couldnât place herself in it. She felt as though she might just float off into space.
She looked around and ended her gaze upon Ayumi.
Ayumi was looking at her portable monitor.
âIt should be around here. Tsuzuki mustââ Ayumi bent her neck before finishing the words, tilting her face away from Hazuki. She must live in Section C . Ayumi swallowed the rest of the sentence.
Hazuki, uncharacteristically, was also thinking about this. Mio Tsuzuki and Section C didnât go well together. But the address they got from their search clearly indicated that she lived in the area.
Yet for her to think such a thing must mean that despite herself Hazuki had some prejudice against Section C. Because all she knew about Mio Tsuzuki was that she was at an unusually high study level, she assumed that Tsuzuki couldnât be from Section C, and therefore assumed this was some kind of coincidence. Considering she wasnât conscientiously disdaining the assumption, there was no mistaking Hazuki had some kind of prejudice.
âOh.â Ayumi made a small sound.
Hazuki expanded her gaze out toward where Ayumi was looking.
Just beyond an unusually narrow road.
Another even narrower road sandwiched between walls made of cheap building material.
âYabe.â
A groupmate.
She had trouble putting a face to the name. In regular clothes, itâd be even harder. She concentrated her eyes. She started to recall what sheâd looked like. Skin nearly translucent, wearing pink contacts that were popular a while ago. It looked good on her, so it didnât strike Hazuki as outdated.
She didnât know much else. But that she remembered that much must mean Yabe was a girl from her class. No matter how tenuous the relationship, she could at least distinguish between people sheâd only seen on monitors and those sheâd physically met. And if sheâd met them in person it couldnât have been anywhere outside of the communication group.
Speaking of whichâ¦
Yabe, Yuko Yabeâ¦she hadnât been in class today.
I wonder what sheâs doing .
Yuko Yabe looked up, exhausted, and stood under the eaves. She didnât appear to be wearing any rain gear and had on only a light layer of clothing. She must have been soaked.
âSheâs wet.â
Waterproof materials are made precisely for this kind of thing , Ayumi thought, just as she stepped into a flooded road. âLetâs leave quickly,â Ayumi said without turning around.
Iâm glad I didnât say anything pointless , Hazuki thought.
Still, was Ayumi not concerned about that girl?
Wouldnât you normally be
People who lived in the same region didnât have intimate relations to begin with. Most communications took place on monitors through cables, so there was no way of knowing where they lived or what thy looked like; their gender, age, or even ethnicity.
The information broadcast through the wires was the only reality. Most of reality was a lie.
There was no difference between truth and falsehood.
There was no point in knowing it.
Proof of this lay in the fact that Hazuki had no idea of the names or provenance of most of the people sheâd physically met in communication groups.
Under that circumstance, Hazuki thought it would be difficult for these same people to start any kind of antagonism.
Maybe these were just the ramblings of a child.
Hazuki took another look at the view. She couldnât get her eyes used to it. She couldnât get used to either the front or back. If the cityscape were in a monitor, it wouldnât matter how dissimilar the elements were on screen, sheâd just turn her head and be in her room again.
She couldnât get stable. The width of the road, height of the buildings, and layout of the city were all curiously inconsistent, her sense of scale totally inverted. She couldnât place herself in it. She felt as though she might just float off into space.
She looked around and ended her gaze upon Ayumi.
Ayumi was looking at her portable monitor.
âIt should be around here. Tsuzuki mustââ Ayumi bent her neck before finishing the words, tilting her face away from Hazuki. She must live in Section C . Ayumi swallowed the rest of the sentence.
Hazuki, uncharacteristically, was also thinking about this. Mio Tsuzuki and Section C didnât go well together. But the address they got from their search clearly indicated that she lived in the area.
Yet for her to think such a thing must mean that despite herself Hazuki had some prejudice against Section C. Because all she knew about Mio Tsuzuki was that she was at an unusually high study level, she assumed that Tsuzuki couldnât be from Section C, and therefore assumed this was some kind of coincidence. Considering she wasnât conscientiously disdaining the assumption, there was no mistaking Hazuki had some kind of prejudice.
âOh.â Ayumi made a small sound.
Hazuki expanded her gaze out toward where Ayumi was looking.
Just beyond an unusually narrow road.
Another even narrower road sandwiched between walls made of cheap building material.
âYabe.â
A groupmate.
She had trouble putting a face to the name. In regular clothes, itâd be even harder. She concentrated her eyes. She started to recall what sheâd looked like. Skin nearly translucent, wearing pink contacts that were popular a while ago. It looked good on her, so it didnât strike Hazuki as outdated.
She didnât know much else. But that she remembered that much must mean Yabe was a girl from her class. No matter how tenuous the relationship, she could at least distinguish between people sheâd only seen on monitors and those sheâd physically met. And if sheâd met them in person it couldnât have been anywhere outside of the communication group.
Speaking of whichâ¦
Yabe, Yuko Yabeâ¦she hadnât been in class today.
I wonder what sheâs doing .
Yuko Yabe looked up, exhausted, and stood under the eaves. She didnât appear to be wearing any rain gear and had on only a light layer of clothing. She must have been soaked.
âSheâs wet.â
Waterproof materials are made precisely for this kind of thing , Ayumi thought, just as she stepped into a flooded road. âLetâs leave quickly,â Ayumi said without turning around.
Iâm glad I didnât say anything pointless , Hazuki thought.
Still, was Ayumi not concerned about that girl?
Wouldnât you normally be
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