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Dust drifted through the air, almost undisturbed in the abandoned classroom where Agnes Tachyon made her second home. In a few weeks’ time, she would be racing in the Satsuki Sho after her landmark victory in the Yayoi Sho just a week earlier. However, something has been on the back of her mind recently, like a sore bump that just won't go away.
No, that's not right, more like a lack thereof.
She stretches in her chair, each vertebra in her spine giving off a distinct crack as she shifts from her hunched position. It was quite relieving while it lasted, but she immediately assumed her arcuate form once again. She had a hypothesis to test, after all. One that would make or break the fate of all umamusume in her world.
Clack, clack, clack, clack, clack…
The darting of fingers across the well-worn keyboard marked the only sign of life in the room past the droning hum of the power supply and the low-pitched whirring of the fan. The strange girl she shared the room with was nowhere to be seen past the divider. For once, Agnes Tachyon did not need to look for her first Test Subject. They agreed to leave each other alone for a week, just to see what would happen.
Clack, clack, clack, clack, clack…
Hours went by. A fresh batch of tea and its accompanying sugar cubes once again found their way to the right side of Tachyon’s desk. It was the first rule of electronics safety to not put any liquid near a PC, let alone right next to the central unit on a desk smaller than her entire armspan, and certainly not while she has neither eaten anything in hours nor took even a minute of sleep since yesterday evening. Shakur’ll definitely give her an earful about this again later. But she didn't care, just like she didn't care that the moonlight is once again shining through the slit in the curtain.
“Goddesses, this is hopeless! Oh well…” were her first words for a total of thirty six hours.
Clack, clack, clack, clack, clack…
It's almost robotic. Almost. Rows and columns of data filed into haphazardly cascaded tabs across the cathode screen. Tabs of documentation, anecdotal records, photos, and race footage litter the desktop. In sharp contrast, the person behind the monitor is moving mechanically, losing all trace of her previous fervor in this unending uphill. After hundreds and thousands of laps up and down, even the hardiest stayers will falter.
But she can't. Not now.
“I'm too close to the truth.”
A fresh batch of tea and its accompanying sugar cubes found their way to the right side of Tachyon’s desk. The coaster teeters precariously off the edge, only a light breeze away from tipping over and breaking everything. She finally notices after the tea has long cooled, pushing it ever so slightly to the left just to keep it stable. Luckily, the onset of sleep deprivation-induced hallucinations would only come a year later…or so she thought.
“May I come in?” a robotic voice inquired, followed up by a series of three evenly spaced knocks.
“My, my, maybe I do need to take a nap. Didn't she leave Tracen four years ago?” Tachyon thought to herself. “Who is it?”
“Identification requested. Response: Mihono Bourbon, serial number MB-19890425. Occupation: Racer, inactive status. Place of residen-”
“Ah! You may stop there, Bourbon-san. Please, please come in.” Knowing that it was indeed not a hallucination, she let the cyborg in. Had she not stopped her though, Bourbon would have revealed more personal information than necessary. While Tachyon didn't mind more data at all, it's customary to show respect to a triple crown champion.
The door opened with a heavy creak, the hinges being left unmaintained for ages now. Bourbon closed the door gently behind her. Following the singular source of light and the rhythmic tapping, she eventually found her way past the divider and into Tachyon’s side of the room. She found the other hunched over, clearly disheveled, just having finished her twelfth drink of tea. Her lab coat, stained with sleepless days and wrinkles that should've been, but somehow aren't there. Beside her was an empty chair reminiscent of one from Bourbon’s time in Tracen, hurriedly moved from the back of the room.
The process started like any other.
“Bourbon, why exactly are you here?” Tachyon asked, not looking away from the clutter on her screen.
“I require assistance, specifically with repairs pertaining to my ‘emotional module’.”
“Please elaborate.” Tachyon replied, feeling quite baffled that she would come here of all places for emotional assistance.
“Current status: unknown. It is what most other people would call ‘emptiness’. However, it conflicts with my previous programming that clearly stated that ‘Victory is both the goal and the force that pushes me toward it’.” Bourbon plainly elucidated in her usual voice.
This was enough to make Tachyon stop dead in her tracks, turning her swivel chair 90 degrees to face the umamusume beside her. She listened with more outward intent.
“Master was unable to find a solution for such a problem, as while his training with respect to racing was impeccable, he did not receive any information regarding matters of the ‘heart’. As I am able to return no data regarding ‘friends’ or even ‘rivals’, I have been directed to this room by a friend of Master’s. Apparently, it contains a large data bank pertaining to the role of abstract concepts in an umamusume’s racing career. Which is why I must ask for your assistance, Tachyon.” Bourbon continued.
“Ahahaha! Well, you've come to the right place. Come, let us begin right away.” Tachyon said with a slight yawn before turning to face her monitor again.
“Extraneous data, minimize that, and that, ah! Triple Crown winner race footage. How can we forget? Statistics in attendance, fan favorites, and finally…
The simulations.”
“Bourbon, I would like you to take a little look right here.” She pointed at the window containing a spreadsheet of Bourbon’s entire racing career. “Just looking at it, it's quite impressive! Your first graded race win was a G1, and you won it all the way until the very end of the Triple Crown.”
“I am not here to recount my achievements. My own data logs are already sufficient for that purpose.” Bourbon said with impatience uncharacteristic of her.
“Goodness, we're getting there. But first, a quick explanation on what I'm about to reveal.”
Tachyon opened the curtains of the abandoned room, revealing the heavily lit track in the distance. She squinted to adjust herself to the new lighting conditions, then turned right back to Bourbon. She stretched her arms upward, preparing to make an all-too-familiar, all-too-grandiose presentation of her newest ‘invention’.
“Now, Bourbon. On this great academy's track, many souls run their hearts out to chase their ultimate goal. But past this track, within the four walls of this academy lies the true source of everyone's power.” She pauses for dramatic effect. “Three beings, elevated from being humble umamusume into symbols representing the dreams of every single umamusume who runs and will run.”
“The Three Goddesses.” Bourbon states. “But I do not see how they are relevant.”
“Ah, let me finish. That statue is not just a symbol. It's a physical conduit of ‘wishes and dreams’. One you have probably experienced before.” Tachyon ends her grand speech and hurries back to the computer, opening a spreadsheet with a conspicuous, terribly formatted line graph made two years ago. “While most umamusume have been uncooperative with my data gathering, I have been able to leverage the help of my guinea p- I mean trainer to get the pertinent records on the numbers side of things. The results were conclusive, to say the least.” She pointed to the large bar labeled ‘15-31 Mar’, lining up with the number ‘176’. On either side, there were remarkably shorter bars. “These are the occurrences of umamusume ‘significantly’ improving one or more parameters, whether that be their record times over their preferred distance, their distance range, or even…goddesses…an entirely different running style! Of course, this data is useless without a holistic qualitative description, and I myself have gotten no shortage of such.”
“Error: information overload. Requesting that we return to the topic at hand.” Bourbon was getting quite agitated at the lack of answers.
“Bourbon, this is the topic at hand. Nevermind, let me give you something more familiar.” Tachyon snapped her fingers to find the words. “Have you ever been…beckoned, no, drawn to the Goddesses’ Statue?”
“Recalling data logs, affirmative. Classic year, 18th March. Senior year, 22nd March. Both instances were marked by significant improvement in terms of stamina and last-stretch acceleration.”
“Well then, I suppose there's no use explaining the data itself further knowing that you're already well-acquainted with the effects of ‘inspiration’. Behold!”
Agnes Tachyon, with three years of data gathering and a year’s worth of training has arrived at this very moment. “The Resonator.” as she calls it.
“It may seem like a simple miniature of the Goddesses’ Statue, but it is so, so much more than just that. Call it a peek behind the curtain of possibilities.” She states with an air of authority and pride.
“Matikanefukukitaru can provide such similar services. However, I do not believe in probabilistic prescriptions such as this. For you to ‘invent’ such a device does not compute for me.” Bourbon replies, unimpressed with the grand reveal.
“I knew, somehow, that you were going to dismiss this too. However, this is merely the engine which powers my analysis. Wanna know what it does? It's able to capture the dreams of a large number of people at once and purify it, allowing me to analyze its contents. As previously mentioned, ‘dreams and wishes’ hold the power to bend fate…and not always in a good way.”
Tachyon sighs.
“Mihono Bourbon. Your fate was not supposed to be this way.”
“Mihono Bourbon! It's Mihono Bourbon! Even though she's been running at the forefront for 2500 meters, she's still accelerating! Second place can't catch up! This is it! 400 meters left.”
Mihono Bourbon did not spare a second look beside her as she continued to surge forward at an almost mechanical pace. Her segment times were once again evenly matched, perfectly maximizing her lead while draining the least amount of stamina for her running style. It was perfect. Too perfect. Her acceleration was impeccable even after the long straight began draining the last of everyone's stamina.
With the thudding of feet growing more and more distant behind her, there was only one other runner standing between her and the Triple Crown.
“Wait! With 300 meters left, Rice Shower begins to surge forward! Mihono Bourbon! Rice Shower! 200 meters left!”
Approaching the final 100 meters, she widens the gap. But her adversary, at the very end, lost steam and could not catch up.
She did not glance as she crossed the goal line, sealing her fate as a Triple Crown umamusume.
“Again, Tachyon, I am not here to-”
“Bourbon. That girl behind you, the one you spared no glance towards? In every other universe, she would have won.”
Mihono Bourbon could not bear to look at the data that had just finished processing in the background. A window popped up. Hundreds of races simulated in minutes, with the influence of the crowds yearning for a new Triple Crown champion removed. She lost every single one.
She could not comprehend this revelation.
“No…but…how would this-”
The truth was, dreams really did bend reality to its will. But in this universe unlike many others, they simply took the path of least resistance instead of what would make the dreamer truly happy.
“That emptiness you feel, that void, I want you to remember that feeling. Because this is the unfortunate truth of this world. While in every other universe she raced past you, this is the only universe where you truly lost.
Because this is the only world where you have no reason to go further.
The ‘Resonator’ isn't powerful because it can change the future, but because it's key to break past our limits in this cursed world. Because in this universe, only the somnolence of the masses holds any favor.”
A tear, no, two, now a steady drip, just like a buret full of buffer causes that oh-so-abhorrent shade of fuchsia to bloom in a flask. Both who stood amongst the dust of fulfilled dreams and the ash of the challenges that didn't come felt an echo of resonance between them. A shared void of victory. One fulfilled. Another, yet to tread.
“Perhaps now at least one of you knows why I dedicated so much of my life to this single-minded pursuit. Not even the other three could comprehend this. Not even if I tried.” Tachyon finally concluded. “Now go, Bourbon. It may be hard to comprehend, but I can give you this replica to remind you of what you now know. Find Rice Shower. Wrest her from the dreams of the masses and…”
Tachyon let the words hang in the air.
“Nevermind. I am glad to have had this conversation with you. You have been a valuable data point. I hope you find what you're looking for.”
The visitor only nodded, speechless, as she slowly turned to make her way towards the exit with a mechanical stiffness.
Like hinges left in disarray for years and years.
Mihono Bourbon let the door shut behind her. She ran through the halls of the academy that once nurtured her dreams and ultimately let her claim the victory she strived for her entire life. However, now knowing the source of that emptiness she can never take back, she now felt an even more unfamiliar feeling creep up on her.
Loneliness.
• • •
Meanwhile, Agnes Tachyon once again shuttered the curtains that let the lights on the track shine through, leaving her once again in the dark. The Satsuki Sho was coming in just a few weeks time, and her trainer might call for a session in the next few days. The weekend was waning fast, after all. She decided to let the research on the screen dry out for a while, and placed her computer into sleep mode. Not wanting to disturb her roommate, she closed her eyes right there and then…
Knowing that she'll walk the exact same path of her senior before her, in a hollow, undeserved victory fueled by the cheers of many and the dreams of none.