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--- readable:db.hss:researcher.eikura.shuus.diary [2025/08/24 19:56] – anadmin
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 ====== Researcher Eikura Shuu's Diary ======
+Pages recording the unrest and extreme emotions of researcher Eikura Shuu. Shunned, exiled, forgotten.
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 , 51, 2157 AE, Lyrid Meteor Shower
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 Through the porthole, I can see the faint blue-violet lights of the anti-gravity protective field dispersed across the universe. It has been around for a total of eight Amber Eras... It is hard to imagine anyone other than the [[factions:interastral.peace.corporation.preservation|IPC]] being able to put together something with the ability to withstand such a long period of time. Was its original conception praise for [[playable:herta|Madam Herta]] or was it a prophecy against an unknown danger? Or was it both? It didn't matter, because the monsters will be arriving, and they will throw themselves at the space station more frequently than they have in the past. The mutations they send will also be more horrifying. They've been kept in the Research Cabin for the past era and living as phantoms in the rumors that spread across the space station. But now, being in the frontlines, it is very likely I will encounter them eventually.
+This isn't exactly bad news. In fact, it makes me excited. Information regarding the [[factions:antimatter.legion.destruction|Legion]] has always been monopolized by the elite researchers. It would be much more interesting to observe the space station's most prominent enemy up close than inspecting and repairing ionization balance, and researching for ways to upgrade the defences. Why would upgrading defences be something a researcher like me should be worried about? Does the IPC only make the defences and offer no after-sales services? Leaving the task of ultimate survival to the researcher with the lowest evaluation score in an era doesn't make sense at all. I suspect that this is just a trap that that there is subtext to it: Once a researcher fails, he should go and do some physical labor to prove what value they have remaining.
+Although I have no interest in this topic, I have to produce a decent research report or I'll have to continue my stare down with it in the next era. It's a spectacular form of cyclical punishment.
+I actually don't really understand why everything has a score. Obviously, someone's gonna say only a bottom-feeder and failure like me would question the logical nature of a point system. All the researchers line up to enter the Scoring Room on the same day of every system year, allowing the space station to inspect us in the name of [[aeons:nous.erudition|Erudition]]. Like pigs for the slaughter on an assembly line, we are branded with elite, average, or inferior scores. For the purpose of receiving a higher score, topics that are less popular, more esoteric, or have a longer reporting period are deserted by the researchers, while the number of research topics that are for flattery and show increase by the day. I understood something when I looked at the researchers pursuing that artificial score: We are not being blessed by the Erudition, but exploited by it. It can easily control this crowd of intelligent minds, placing their unrestrained ingenuity in one specific location, thus annihilating all possibilities for them to think freely.
+I can't help but think about the situation on my home planet, the one marked Xin-41 on the Hosea Star Map. Back then, I was such a genius, and with so much energy. When I first showed the potential to take the test, my childhood companions were no different from the shallow researchers at the space station. They had surrounded and cheered for me, just like how the researchers are now celebrating the "heroes" researching the Legion. They hade prayed that I would one day take them away from Xin-41, that one day I would show the residents of Xin-41 what life is like in segmenta outside of the colonized area. They've once dreamed of a different life, one that doesn't include wasting their entire lives harvesting hallucinogenic spices to sustain the [[potential:slinkans|Slinkan]] species' supposed dreams of immortality.
+I, too, only found out after arriving at the space station that the Slinkans aren't the rulers of the cosmos. On the contrary, compared to the supreme existences in this cosmos, the Slinkans are really not that different from the residents of Xin-41. If the residents of Xin-41 were brave enough, they should revolt at all costs against the weak social control the Slinkans have over them. But they can't, because they lack both knowledge and courage.
+Although I've overcome my lack of knowledge regarding these oppressive situations, the cowardice bred from the impoverished soil on Xin-41 has been etched deep into my bones. That was why I remained silent when I received my single-digit score due to those unpredictable spiritual organisms. I received the gaze of the "Skynet" in the Scoring Room, just as I had bathed under the acid rain of my home planet. I was burning up. I was humiliated. I was full of hatred — and I was silent.
+However, it's proven that even the feeling of awkwardness is unnecessary. There is only one benefit in splitting people into different grades outside of the space station — the convenience of feeling superior to others. It is worse here, however. The researchers have no need for something like a sense of superiority. All their hard work is for the purpose of gaining Madam Herta's attention and acknowledgement. They walk past me as if I'm just a harmless ghost. That's right. There have always been harmless ghosts wandering about aimlessly in silence here. It's just that by the time I became able and willing to notice them, I too had become one of them.
+I still haven't found the courage to tell me real situation to my family in the distant homeland. I don't want them to know that the genius of Xin-41, whom they had such high hopes for, is nothing but an inferior-grade pig in the space station they gaze upon day and night.
+;;#
+Eikura Shuu
+;;#