Gun of Ashes

"Those dim memories, they’re the ones you deliberately forgot, sealed behind the door. Maybe what you forgot this time is the same."

"That Memory Palace should have traces of it, too."

Lorenzo said, but halfway through, he suddenly realized the problem.

Seeing his interesting expression, Heracles smiled. When it comes to memory, Heracles is more familiar with it than anyone else. With his past experiences, he can easily recall every day of his life.

"See, it might be like this. You used the Anti-Meme to make yourself forget something."

Lorenzo was silent for a while, his pupils slightly contracted, thoughts racing.

"Then... why did I want to forget these things?"

...

It’s often said that once you know Old Dunling well enough, you’ll realize that Old Dunling is an extremely bloated city. Not only is its complex system wrapped around this city, but also because of its massive and intricate construction.

The most bothersome thing about this city is not the endless steam but the network of steam pipes sprawling deep underground. With the Mechanical Institute’s intensive construction, the Furnace Pillar is like the roots of a tree deeply embedded in the ground. It continuously spreads outwards, filling this land with machinery and steel.

Over the years, the design of the Furnace Pillar has been iterated generation after generation, personnel have changed, and machines have expanded. Old Dunling’s underground world has completely turned into another huge and dark labyrinth, crawling with rats and poisonous insects. Even the Perpetual Motion Pump doesn’t have the confidence to claim complete understanding of this inverted underground city.

The waters of the Thames River are poured into the Furnace Pillar, and the rising flames release a large amount of steam that surges through the pipelines, driving various machinery.

Amidst the entangled steel roots, the Perpetual Motion Pump is located at the midsection of the Furnace Pillar. Below it, at the deepest part of the Furnace Pillar, is the high-temperature furnace where residual waste is incinerated and discarded into the darkness, forgotten by people.

There is no need; almost no one comes here, and in fact, there isn’t a direct path to this depth.

With the collaboration of the Perpetual Motion Pump and the Mechanical Institute, the functions of the Furnace Pillar were distinguished years ago. The upper section near the surface controls all operations of the Furnace Pillar, and the lower section only requires occasional inspection and maintenance, requiring no personnel guarding.

Therefore, the Perpetual Motion Pump is the deepest accessible point, below which lies a sea of fire providing Old Dunling with an endless supply of power.

With these reasons, most people within the Purification Mechanism have forgotten about this dark place, and no one contemplates what exactly lies at the base of the Furnace Pillar.

But now, this depth, considered waste residue by people, is filled with dazzling white light, illuminating the massive underground structure. Above it are complex pipelines, with a constant booming sound.

A black-clad figure looked up, gazing at the dark red light source overhead; that’s the Furnace Pillar. Behind the thick metal lies the blazing sea of fire, and with the roar, the scorching steam leaks out of cracks in the pipelines, cools on the cold metal, leaving droplets of cool water.

Here is the deepest part of the Furnace Pillar, but unlike the familiar wasteland darkness, there is a massive complex not inferior to the Perpetual Motion Pump. The black-clad figure looks down from the platform, seeing the armed silent soldiers, silently marching, being lifted to the surface amidst piercing sounds.

That’s a secret passage leading directly to the surface of Old Dunling, unknown even to the internal Purification Mechanism.

The black-clad figure reached out, picked up a cigarette, and lit it.

Smoking was not a pleasant experience for him; his body was deformed, and under the stimulation of tobacco, he could only feel a sharp pain, yet he stubbornly inhaled, letting the pain make him awake.

"The new round of Anti-Meme impact is ready, prepared for deployment."

The broadcast echoed in the underground world, you could hear the turning of machinery, and once again, a roaring sound emitted from the furnace.

"Begin deployment."

Carriers containing Anti-Meme information were put into the furnace, to be enveloped with the rising steam, turning into new carriers, seeping through the streets of Old Dunling, rising into the cumulus clouds only to fall as cold rain, continually baptizing this city.

No one knows what they still don’t know, be it the Purification Mechanism or the Nation-Builder.

In this forgotten darkness, they affect Old Dunling’s cognition, securely hiding those secrets not yet meant to be revealed.

Footsteps sounded, the black-clad figure turned around, only to see another figure wearing a silver-white mask appearing before him.

From her figure, this should be a woman, but her entire body was cloaked in robes, and vaguely, one could see the metal beneath the robe that was the same as the mask’s material, seemingly a tight-fitting armor that fully protected her.

"How’s the progress?"

The woman asked, her voice cold and devoid of any emotion.

"All preparations have been completed, records regarding the Cleaners have been completely erased, personnel lists have also been destroyed. Combined with the Anti-Meme influence implemented since the Cleaner department was established, now no one knows of our existence, not even Mr. Holmo."

The black-clad figure said, confident as the most mysterious department within the Purification Mechanism.

"Don’t underestimate him. I suspect Mr. Holmo has detected something odd. If we delay any longer, he might discover us," the woman said.

The black-clad figure pondered, acknowledging that Lorenzo indeed might do such a thing, yet he wasn’t concerned about what the woman worried over.

"No need to worry, the actors are in place, the curtain will rise."

"Is that so..." The woman murmured as she stared into the black-clad figure’s eyes, under her mask, a faint fire flickered.

"There are signs of erosion on you, many here have such traces."

"That’s right," the black-clad figure admitted, "within the Cleaners, people like us are called Returnees."

"Doesn’t sound like a nice title."

"You’ll get used to it," the black-clad figure gazed upon the underground world. "Those who come here, are all prepared."

"Prepared to die?"

"More than just prepared to die, it’s about complying with protocols, absolutely compliance, even if someone survives, before leaving the Cleaner department, they’d be affected by the Anti-Meme to forget everything related to this place."

"No one knows," said the masked woman, the intricate patterns on her silver mask obscuring her expression, "it sounds really sad."

The black-clad figure chuckled, unburdened by such sadness, and then he stated his name.

"Galahad."

"Sounds like a code name," the woman hesitated but didn’t refuse, "Watson."

"Yours sounds the same. What about your name?" Galahad asked.

"In the end, it would be forgotten; such things are not important. The same applies to you, right?"

Galahad neither denied nor answered directly. Watson stood beside him, watching the full-throttle operations of the Cleaners. In the distance, heavy footsteps reverberated, reminiscent of giants moving through the darkness.

Galahad hadn’t felt his emotions stirred like this for a long time, he almost struggled to maintain calm, amazed.

"We’ve transcended beyond the story, broken free from the ’author’s’ pen."

Galahad continued.

"We will move at the critical moment, altering the entire direction of the story, like the most abrupt twist in the tale."

Listening to his words, Watson seemed to recall something, a hint of laughter under her mask as she spoke.

"Like a Mechanical Deity."

Galahad nodded in agreement, repeating.

"Mechanical Deity."

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