Arknights story · Operator Records
Cycle
Before the Katorga Incident, Zima is avoiding capture on the Grypherburg outskirts when she takes shelter in a blind elder's home, but she soon realizes the old man's identity is not as simple as it seems,
1 scenes, 347 lines
1. Interlude
347 lines'My dear friends, I'm writing this letter as I make my way over...'
'This envelope should reach Deity Grypherburg sooner than I do, if everything goes smoothly. Hopefully, I'll manage to return before New Year's, to celebrate together.'
'After leaving the capital, I went to Zamoresk and Tulskaya. There I learned for the first time how people living next to the capital live, suffer, and die.'
'I joined a few meetings and protests, and even got captured for a few days, but don't worry...'
Creak—!
(Quietly knocks on car door)
What's wrong?
This is as far as I can go. Petrodvorets is just up ahead, and I can see cops waving their flashlights back and forth. Think they're arresting someone.
We agreed before we left. I wouldn't put myself in danger.
Sure. Tell your kid I say hi. Ivan, right?
It's alright, child. You paid me, my lips are sealed.
Winter draws near, and even Petrodvorets across the relatively warm Grypherburg routes cannot escape the biting cold.
Half-withered trees struggle against the strong winds, as branches snap and break alongside fowlbeast cries.
Zima cannot make out any of the lights or sounds the coachman mentioned earlier.
Well, no reason those fat cops would come all the way out here on a night cold enough to freeze a drunk to death.
Now that I'm near the city, I should find somewhere to stay before I work out a way to contact Instructor Dur-nar and get back to Grypherburg...
Zima stuffs her half-written letter into a chest pocket, then steadies herself with a withered tree trunk before continuing on her journey towards the sparsely-lit city in the distance.
Thanks for letting me stay.
It was your choice to come in.
Yeah, but you didn't chase me away, and even gave me a warm bowl of oatmeal.
Well, did you think I could beat you in a fight?
51 Slag Road, huh. I'll pay you back once I make it back to Grypherburg.
Grypherburg? Did you come from the capital?
You sound young, and talk like a university student. So why come all the way here just to freeze in the cold?
I came here to learn... uh, well, at least I did, at first! There's a lot you don't learn in school, like how to hold a sickle or harvest wheat.
But it sounds like you weren't really satisfied here either. You're headed home with a gloom about you.
I got mixed up in some things, caused some trouble, and got separated from my friends.
Zima lowers her empty bowl, and wipes her mouth clean with her hand.
I'm still wanted in Tulskaya. I can leave now, if you're worried about that.
Let's not talk about it. Thirty years I've been blind, do you think I can even make out what you look like?
Even if I could, do you think I'd manage to drag these bony legs all the way to the concrete spire in Tulskaya just to compare your mug to the wanted posters on the wall?
How do you know that's where they...?
Huh, guess you were in your prime when they were building the city. I'm sure you've been.
Go wash your bowl, if you're done with your oatmeal.
Zima smoothly scoops snow into the bowl. The oatmeal barely had more flavor than water. Zima easily scrubs it clean.
......
What did you do?
You mean in Tulskaya?
Have you committed crimes in other places too?
No, I'm just... a student.
At first, I was a guest.
Young thought leaders would share the advanced theories they learned from abroad, and invited me to join their 'little circle'.
They would talk about all sorts of things, confidently state every nation's strengths and evils, as if there was nothing they didn't know.
They were hoping a university student from Grypherburg could help them rally voters and win financial backing.
Until they realized I knew nothing about government, and distanced themselves from me.
So I went to meet workers, doctors, teachers. I wanted to understand their lives, and produce an objective report on their respective situations.
But they would only talk about the weather, traffic, or how many beans they got from a can. They just wouldn't talk about certain topics, and it seemed a habit they grew into.
Even if I could clearly see their pain and apathy.
My luggage was confiscated, my notebook checked from front to back. I knew I couldn't stay any longer.
So I went to the fields. I tried to help some farmers save their wheat from a blizzard, but my pair of hands so used to fighting kept letting grains slip through my fingers, so I wasn't actually much help.
I saw many more suffering. They were experts at enduring their pain, though they didn't know how to verbalize it at all...
They didn't know why it was so difficult to feel joy, nor did they know where their unhappiness came from. They didn't even know who to ask.
I thought about those thought leaders and their theories, their frameworks, their policy plans... none of which could feasibly take root in reality's soil.
Later, I heard students and merchants in the city were organizing a demonstration, although it turned out their true goal was to smuggle and sell weapons from outside... I couldn't figure out why.
Even more confusing was why they gave the authorities my name when they were arrested. I wasn't even in the city at the time!
What were you doing?
Alright! Doesn't matter.
Be it the nonsensical politicians, the students who think they know the truth, or ignorant officials, I have zero interest! So enough about them!
......
Do you think those theories and plans sprouted from themselves, like crops in the soil?
Did you think news from the outside could make its way into Ursus so easily? Do you actually think those students found those 'theories' themselves?
It is they who control what knowledge you can get. All you know is what they allow you to know!
Remember how they turned your suitcase inside out! That's how they've always treated us!
So enough!
You're the one who just started rambling! How about being reasonable?
If one could be reasonable in Ursus, you wouldn't be here, would you? Go talk to those snotty brats with their nonsensical theories, if you want reason!
At least they're trying to come up with solutions for the country, instead of sitting at home doing nothing at all.
Do you want to stay here or not?!
You can't even kick me out—you said so yourself. Not like I'm refusing to pay you either.
Hmph. I'm not one to take empty promises. You want to stay, you help out for the day.
How?
See that stack of newspapers by the door? The one who used to read them to me is dead. Do that and you can stay.
'I'm staying in Petrodvorets, at a blind old man's home.'
'His words hint at a unique past, and his accent also sounds a little familiar. I feel like maybe he's from Grypherburg too.'
'Just how many people in Ursus today full of talent and ambition are left to rot in the barrens? It breaks my heart thinking about this.'
'My friends, I promised my journey out of the capital would have me rediscover the country, and I would find a solid, true path amongst all the noise.'
'But now...'
Got today's paper. Want me to read the whole thing?
No, hold on.
I don't expect you'd want to do that.
...?
Last night. I was ranting, but not without reason.
I can tell you've been through a lot, but I'm not about to pry into your past.
If only you knew what I've been through—
I said, I'm NOT going to pry.
I've been to cities around the capital. I've met more people in the past year than I thought I would in a lifetime. Everyone had so much to say.
And what I've learned... is to see for myself, not just hear from others. I have a habit of looking to the future. I think new will always be better than old.
Hmph. I wasn't planning to tell you anyway!
What's new... under the sun, then? Read me the paper!
From the headlines: The State Council's 70th...
No, none of that Deity Grypherburg Morning News drivel.
Got 'Capital Daily' and 'Journal' here too... no objections? I'll pick one to read from then.
'A WARNING FROM LONDINIUM? Returnee scholar to give speech on constitutional monarchy.'
'FOREIGN MIRACLE, SKYBOUND CITY! The sky is Ursus's way out.'
'FORGING FUNDS INTO MIGHT? How wealth always trumps power!'
...
'IMPERIAL COLLEGE REPUTATION AT RISK: Rumor-spreaders will be punished.'
'STREET RUFFIANS SUPPRESSED: Ringleader behind street attacks masked as protest march brought to justice.'
'TULSKAYA MURDERER FLEES TO OTHER CITIES: Anyone with leads...'
Not gonna talk about any of these?
What else can I say? Didn't the experts already state their opinion?
Do none of these headlines move you? Can't you feel the fervor of those trying to find a way out for Ursus?
Like this one—
'Far North Miners suffer injustice, inciting uprisings in similarly harsh mining zones for more freedom and quality of life amidst public outrage.'
Does that mean anything to you? The headline, these people, those miners...?
It means some die, while others survive.
Nothing worth fussing over.
Then why bother keeping up with the news? Nothing has anything to do with you.
Because I want to know the changes happening across this land. Even if I end up disappointed every day.
The same old things repeat day in, day out... I wouldn't find anything new, even if I could buy every newspaper printed in this country.
That's impossible.
Nothing impossible about it. I told you, there's nothing worth your attention.
'July 1101, a scholar returned from Victoria developed new views on constitutional monarchy and the parliamentary system through reflection on wartime Londinium...'
In January of 1032, a survivor from Gaul presented new ideas on the very same topics based on the battle of the Four Emperors, and even gave a speech at the State Council.
...He gave a speech at the State Council...
One month later he was secretly executed, covered up as an accident.
...and was discovered dead in his home this morning, with the cause of death reported to be... an allergic reaction to pollen.
Next, his students and family will flee, then die near the border. Of course, they will now die in accidents related to vehicles powered by Originium instead of burdenbeasts, to keep up with the changing times.
I have older papers beside the wood pile. Feel free to flip through.
I've heard enough.
......
'My friends, I've reopened the letter I sealed to add what happened earlier tonight...'
'The blind old man who lives alone has a massive collection of newspapers. He has nearly a century of every kind of paper you can imagine, but this is not what shocked me most.'
'Remember when I told you what I did in the other cities? I was too arrogant then. I had no idea I wasn't the first to commit those acts.'
'Even the comrade mentioned in the papers decades ago wasn't the first to do it.'
'The slogans we yell now have been repeated millions of times over the years; the paths we thought we forged ourselves have long existed, but no one has ever walked their way out!'
'...I'm stumped as to how no one has realized that none of this is new at all.'
'I have a feeling this old man used to be like us...'
Today, university students from seventeen nomadic cities presented a joint petition to the Tsar, demanding improvements to the living conditions of the Infected and more transparency in our mines and their resources.
The issue of the Infected's survival resurfaces on a large scale every ten years or so. You could compile those findings into a book thicker than your average dictionary, but your efforts wouldn't amount to anything.
It's happened before, after all. Just wait for tomorrow's headlines.
Today, rebels occupied a small town on the border, declaring independence from Ursus. They'll be self-sufficient, and everyone will be treated equally.
It's happened before. Half of them will die, and the rest will surrender. Wait for tomorrow's paper.
Today, the rebels were beheaded by their own sons, and the remaining rebels formally declared their surrender. In other news, someone has brought back information from Trimounts and is now peddling to the nobility the concept of building up into the skies.
Old news... don't believe me? Look at that paper, from three decades ago. What do you think caused that mysterious explosion in the Northern Tundra?
Wait for tomorrow.
Catastrophe flooded a region... no, don't say anything. I know this isn't new either.
Damn it, I can't find any new news to prove you wrong!
......
Zima folds the newspaper in her hands, expressions flickering on her face. After a long time, she speaks—
Enough news. I'll talk about what I went through. There's no way what happened to me has happened more than once...
Sounds like you have a unique story for me. Go ahead, if you want.
Do you know... of the Chernobog incident?
And when was that—
Five years ago.
It was winter. Children were forced away from their parents, struggling to survive in one single school, with no food, explanations, or promises...
No one has any clue what the guy who 'planned' it all was even thinking!
I don't believe something like this has happened before, that it's part of a 'cycle'.
She forces a smile on her face.
Aha, coming up empty, huh? I win.
...Indeed.
That's the first I've heard of it.
But you survived, yes?
Huh? No, that's not the point...
Some die, while others survive.
I know things are often more than just a simple label. But sometimes, there is no escaping your most traumatic memories, and that label is all you have.
What are you trying to say?
Wait for tomorrow.
So let's continue with yesterday's.
Heavy snow's blocked the roads. I'm sure the mailman will deliver them all once the snow's cleared.
Where do I find him?
You seem more eager than me to read the papers. Why, was there something about the one from yesterday?
I didn't tell you then, but yesterday's paper had a picture of me, with someone else's name on it. A group of students who murdered a noble officer in Tulskaya have fled to this area.
Do you know them?
I don't think so, and besides... they've been killing civilians too.
......
I need to know where those runaway students fled to... my friends are gonna see my face in the papers, and I'm worried...
...Oh.
Remember to wash your bowl when you're done.
Keep the door closed. I don't want the wind coming in.
You...?
I'm just blind, not deaf! It doesn't concern me whether you live or die, but you'd best not get buried in the snow... hah, your dirty bowl's still on the table waiting for you to clean it, by the way!
If there's nothing new in the papers, then don't bring them back, you hear?
The old man does not wait for a reply before sitting near the door.
Dumb cops haven't noticed us yet... let's keep going.
Let me rest my legs a little, boss!
If you can't walk any longer, I'll go on without you. Hey, what about you? Can you still walk?
Please, don't leave me behind! You promised me you'd help me escape!
Escape? I helped you all escape Tulskaya, da? We dodged every guard we saw on our way here, is that not enough?
You don't even know how to hold a knife properly! Remember, we had to run for our lives through a blizzard because you started a fire and drew the cops over!
Don't forget, we kill the guilty. We're on the side of justice!
(Pulls on sleeve) Boss...
I told you... zip it!
But boss... there's someone else here...
The shocked student with bloody hands turns around to see someone covered in snow trying to hide himself in the shadow of the rock face, with a walking stick in his hand.
Sorry... I just wanted to find somewhere to hide from the wind...
I'm just here to deliver the papers, look—it's all papers in my bag.
(Whispering) Boss, there's a wanted notice for us in today's news...
No! Stop it! No more killing!
What? You're killers?!
I heard movement over there! Come with me!
The injured student spots the man in the snow open his mouth, as if about to shout something—the next moment, his bloody hands find themselves on the man's neck.
The other male student immediately reacts, wresting the man's stick away.
Please, just... don't make any noise!
The passer-by gradually ceases all resistance.
Are those cops gone?
They're... gone...
I think... he's dead.
I... killed him?
Shut up, idiot!
Listen up, next time it will be you both who do it. I can't always be the one doing the work and taking the blame!
Kasha's almost ready, where's my paper?
You better not let the snow get you... what a worrisome child.
Oh no, boss! I really can't move any longer!
You're so useless! Fine, we'll rest in this battered shack for a bit... Huh? Something's up, I see smoke coming from the chimney.
There's someone in there!
Who's there? Quiet, or those cops will come over and rob me of all my food!
Old man, we're hiding from those bastards too. Can we come in for a short break?
Are you not already inside?
Ahem. Quick, close the door.
I see two sets of utensils on the table... where's your family gone?
Oh, kid's gone to fetch my papers.
Did you see my kid on your way here?
Nope, not a single living soul out there.
Sir... you have so many... newspapers lying around.
As you can plainly see, I'm a blind man. All I can do is ask someone else to read the news to me.
(Whispers) He can't see our faces... can we not kill him—
Forgive me for being frank, sir, but what's the point in keeping all of this? It's all lies, and that's the truth!
I'm just waiting for change to come. You can flip through them as you please... and soon, you'll discover nothing new happens across this land.
How can that be? I know there are people out there achieving remarkable things!
There are men out there killing evil nobles and greedy officials alike. No one will dare call the students weak and powerless ever again!
That's happened before, countless times. Maybe you've all forgotten, but those very same nobles and officials were students at one point in their lives.
That's not the same! Times have changed, we live in an age of turmoil...
Every era has its own earth-shaking events.
Hey!
Sir, please... maybe you should rest more and speak less.
Heheh, don't worry...
Fear not, lost youth of today. The kid will probably be back soon, and then I'll ask the town sheriffs to take your group somewhere safe.
This mountain village is sealed off by the snow. I don't think you'll adapt to the remoteness, you'll fall sick.
Now, do help yourselves to some warm kasha.
The refugee students' faces turn dark, as the wounded student wipes the sweat on his face with his sleeve, again and again.
(Whispers) Oh no... I think we killed his...
(Whispers) Give me that stick.
(Whispers) Are you mad? He's gonna know that's his kid's! How are you gonna explain this?
(Whispers) But why should I... have to explain?
......
(Whispers) But... he's just a blind old man...
(Whispers) And how long do you think he'll last in the blizzard without his kid? A whole day? Or half?
Why let a kind soul like him continue to suffer so needlessly?
......
*cough*, *cough*... come on now, kasha's getting cold.
Bloody hands shove the stick into the worried student's hands, as she earns a fierce glare.
Do it!
Hey, it's me.
I found the mailman, he's a nice guy. Said the heavy snow was blocking the roads here, so he brought me to the post office cabin to warm myself up, and even helped contact a truck headed to Grypherburg.
If everything goes well, I'll be off to the capital soon!
At first, I was worried he'd recognize my face in the papers, but guess what—
He said, who reads the papers in this day and age? And who would even take them at face value, as truth?
Hello?
Wind from outside rushes in, blowing the newspapers scattered on the ground into the air, like how a baby bothers an adult. Zima looks everywhere, but fails to find the house's elderly occupant.
As she remains in a daze, a second gust of wind snatches the freshly printed newspaper out of her hands, sending its pages wobbling apart until it meshes with the older prints on the floor.
No...
Huh, you're back? Transport's not here yet.
He wasn't in. Gah, more trouble for everyone. Did you see anyone pass by here?
The mailman shakes his head, and takes a glance at the crumpled newspaper in Zima's hand.
Maybe he found the papers as boring as the ones from yesterday and decided to take a walk.
How's a blind man going to take a walk in a snowstorm?!
Zima sighs, and tosses the crumpled papers onto the table in front of the mailman.
Anyways, I'll just go look for him, but if you see him... uh, what's that?
Like a squished spring bouncing back, the paper gradually folds open, revealing the front page headline.
Zima had been carrying it the whole time, but this is the first time she has actually read the words on it.
'Petrodvorets Dispatch': Old man living alone murdered in cold blood, killer suspected to be the same fugitive from...
Zima takes to the door at once, but with just a single step, she feels as if a rope is pulling her whole body backwards.
She slowly turns around, fixing her gaze on the nonchalant mailman.
The mailman stops his work, shrugs at Zima, and replies in a tone she finds all too familiar—
Because it's happened before.
Everyone who lives here knows it. They don't talk about it, but that doesn't mean they've forgotten.
The newspaper continues to slowly open on the table, revealing its long-forgotten date to Zima.
The mailman pulls out a letter from his pocket, one resembling the letter Zima has yet to send.
You dropped this.
How could she have 'dropped' something he literally just took out of his pocket?
The writing...
'My friends, I fear I can no longer return to Grypherburg.'
'My hands are stained with blood. I used an innocent's walking stick to kill the blind old man who treated us kindly.'
'I've been trying to convince myself with my comrade's words. We had no choice but to kill his son to survive.'
'And how long can an old man who has lost his child even survive on his own? I'm merely helping to minimize the suffering he's going through—this is what I've been telling myself.'
'I almost convinced myself it was true...'
'Until the man's actual son opened the door with skinned quarry and a crossbow in hand...'
'It was then we realized, we had murdered an innocent mailman, and then with arrogance, killed a kind, old man.'
'I ran away... and when I returned, I saw four corpses...'
'I had no clue as to their identities, nor could I tell who was good or bad, I couldn't figure it out...'
'So, I picked up some charcoal and burned my own eyes.'
'My friends, I fear I can no longer return to Grypherburg. I will stay here, and no matter how much time fate grants me, I shall remain here always...'
'Some die, while others survive.'
'I know things are often more than just a simple label. But sometimes, there is no escaping your most traumatic memories, and that label is all you have.'
Oh, you're here.
We must have missed each other on the way back. You've been gone the whole night, so I went out to look for you.
......
Well, now that you're here, I'm at ease. It's time I head back.
Every time I think about the past, I take a walk on this path.
It doesn't matter that I can't see, or even if I fall. Falling only means I have to be more careful of rocks and potholes next time.
Fall enough times, take enough beatings, and you'll naturally manage to walk steadily on the right path.
I guess you were right. This has all happened before.
I told you so.
But that doesn't mean I'm wrong.
The weather will change, and so will the roads. After all, these roads were paved by the ones who first walked here, step by step.
Your knees are all muddy. You've walked this path your whole life and yet you still fell today. Right?
I can't even see, so say whatever you want.
Ahem, I can testify... that I do see traces of mud.
I still believe every new day will be different from the last, even if it's by the tiniest bit. It's still a victory worth celebrating.
Maybe these small changes aren't enough to build a bridge, maybe it's hard for those experiences and theories from abroad to take root here, but to quote something you said before—
The path to the future that belongs to Ursus will surely grow from Ursus's own soil. Maybe it'll sprout today, or tomorrow...
But never yesterday!
I don't think that's how I put it... fine. Seems like I was right again.
Zima scoops a pile of snow from outside, carefully rubbing it into the elder's numb hands.
I have to head back to Grypherburg, so I don't think I can wash that bowl clean. Sorry.
Any news you want me to bring back to the capital?
The blind elder shakes his head, avoiding Zima's question, but changes his tone.
An ant trapped in a circle drawn with chalk naturally cannot make what's outside it, but if you can—
A truck honks its horn from outside the post office's wooden hut, as if urging them to hurry. The old man has no choice but to switch his words into those of a farewell.
I hope you will manage to forge a brand new path of your own.
Time to go!
Right, if you haven't read today's papers yet, there's something you ought to know...
Those murdering students? They accidentally ate some poisonous berries because they were starving, and were sent to the hospital by some kind-hearted people. Then they got arrested.
Seems like sometimes things don't happen exactly as they did back then, huh?
Istina, Leto, Gummy, Natalya, Zoya. I'll soon be back in Grypherburg.
Those who bet that I wouldn't return before the new year better prepare their cupcakes for me, because I'm starving!
Before I left the capital, I told Instructor Dur-nar that all the hardships I'd meet on this trip would be worth it if it managed to truly open my eyes to our motherland.
Looking back, I think it was worth it. If I were to use the big words and terms I learned in university to phrase my feelings, then this is how I'd put it—
Our homeland is trapped in a cycle, where suffering, ignorance, and evil propagate in unison, while our so-called hope is but a hollow prize to claim. This system only continues to function because we continue to endure it.
I've seen countless people try to transplant paths from other nations, or put a stake on current sentiments, which I used to think was the safest way to do it.
But after going through some stuff, I realized that's just part of the cycle too. The abyss of history is littered with those failures.
But failure is also fertile ground for answers to take root. The path to the future that belongs to Ursus will surely grow from Ursus's own soil...
Zima stops her pen when she seems to hear bells tolling all the way from nearby Grypherburg. The capital's silhouette lies right before her eyes.
The Winter Ball will begin in a few days. And right now, the Student Assembly's meeting is already underway.
So she tears the letter to shreds, tossing it into the snow. In the end, the bookish tone she ended up writing proved too corny for her taste, but this is not exactly why she trashes it.
She decides, she will say the very same words to her companions in person. No, she won't even have to say them.
I'll break this cycle with my own hands.