Elegy from Another World

Several days passed in a flurry of activity and a deliberately maintained calm. The Dresden Shield, like a lurking beast, slowly adjusted its posture within the network space, its various systems operating efficiently under the surging energy of the "Dawn Core." However, an invisible shadow loomed over everyone's hearts—the light representing the "Watchers" was becoming thin and transparent, like a candle flame about to burn out.

That day, following the faint energy fluctuations, I arrived at the independent memory vault located deep within the ship. The heavy isolation door slid open silently, revealing a tranquil interior, broken only by the low hum of the equipment maintaining the stasis field. In the center, the enormous obelisk stood silently, countless unfamiliar names appearing and disappearing in the dim light, like a silent galaxy.

The "Watcher's" light and shadow hovered before the obelisk, dimmer than ever before, with fine data dust constantly escaping from its edges, as if it might melt completely into the void at any moment. To my surprise, the cookie he affectionately called "Honey," which emitted a faint glow, was now floating slowly around him in an almost affectionate manner, radiating a soft and warm halo.

I didn't disturb him, but just stood quietly at the door. He seemed to be communicating silently with the names engraved on the monument; the blurred light and shadow rippled slightly, conveying an indescribable sadness and longing.

After a long silence, I spoke softly, "Do you... still remember what they look like?"

The light and shadow slowly turned towards me, and a thought came through, carrying a deep weariness and helplessness: "Most of it... I don't remember anymore. The names are still there, but the corresponding faces, voices, even the details of our shared experiences... are all blurred, like looking through frosted glass. Only Lily and Nightshade... their outlines still remain, just a little bit."

This is the cruelest part of anisophora—it not only erases itself, but also erodes the holder's connection with everything he cherishes.

"Then...would you like to see them again?" I asked tentatively, "not through cold records, but...in a more concrete form."

"Of course I want to... I want to." A strong longing shone through his thoughts, but it quickly faded. "But what other form can resist forgetting?"

I walked over to him, my gaze falling on the "honey" nestled against him, and an idea began to form: "Perhaps... I could try it."

[“Honey?”] The light and shadow of the “Watcher” seemed to pause for a moment.

"Yes." I crouched down, looking at the cookie that radiated a simple, joyful light. "I can try to transform it, not by projecting an illusory image, but by reshaping its form on a material level, making it resemble Lily and Nightshade. Let it... become a tangible companion that you can touch and feel in your final moments."

"What's the point of all this?" the Watcher thought, bewildered. "It's ultimately just a creation devoid of advanced intelligence, a tribute to the underworld. Changing its form is nothing but self-deception."

"How can this be self-deception?" I retorted, my tone becoming serious. "It's the same as cherishing photos of our loved ones and touching their belongings after they've passed away. We're not trying to resurrect them, but using a tangible presence to combat nothingness, to anchor those memories and emotions that are about to be washed away by the torrent of time. It's a struggle, a struggle against forgetting."

I pointed to the honey: "And look at it. In the last moments of your life, it's the only one who stays by your side, holding onto you with unconditional dependence and...love. Isn't this pure emotional connection a miracle in itself? Why not let this final warmth carry your longing for your departed friend and accompany you on your final journey?"

I paused, then said solemnly, "Of course, this is just my suggestion. If you feel it's inappropriate, or think it's disrespectful to Lily and Nightshade, I will not force you. The final decision is yours."

The Watcher fell silent. The light and shadow floated quietly, and Honey seemed to sense his emotional fluctuations, pressing closer. Only the faint sounds of the equipment running remained inside the vault.

After a long silence, his thoughts returned, carrying a complex and indescribable emotion: "What I'm worried about... isn't actually the suggestion itself, nor is it whether it's disrespectful to Lily and Nightshade. What I'm truly worried about... is Honey."

"You know the properties of an anime. Once I completely dissipate, Honey... it will only take about a year, or even less, to completely forget that I ever existed. It will turn back into an ordinary, happy cookie, drifting carefree on the Dresden, perhaps finding a new object of affection."

"By then, it will have no memory of me, even though it carries the forms of Lily and Nightshade... This feeling is perhaps more lonely and ironic than complete forgetting."

His worries were so specific, yet so heavy. I understand his feelings; it was a sense of powerlessness and sorrow about what would happen after his death.

"But..." He changed the subject, and the light and shadow seemed to coalesce into a faint yet resolute glimmer. "You're right. To combat nothingness, we need a concrete anchor. If I use my remaining time to worry about the loneliness that might follow, that would be a true waste."

"Rather than silently recalling a fading past, I'd rather... let this final warmth, in the most important form of my memory, accompany me to the very end. Even if it is eventually forgotten, at least in the last moment of my existence, that tangible longing is real."

"Lizia... I agree to your suggestion. Please... help shape Honey."

I looked at him, at the cookie nestled against him, gleaming faintly, and nodded solemnly: "Okay. I will do my best."