Medical Staff: Here is Ms. Spathodea's physical examination.
Medicine Pocket: Oh, how sweet. They even got you the Salvia Zopiclone patches.
Medicine Pocket: If the "illusions" get too real and you can't sleep, use them.
Spathodea: Okay, thanks. But I need to ask my coach if I can use it.
Medicine Pocket: Don't worry. It's been approved by the Therapeutic Goods Administration of Campbell. The ingredients include salvia, mint, and a hallucination potion. They can neutralize the side effect perfectly.
The researcher opens the girl's medical record, takes off the patch sticking to the cover, and slides it to the girl.
Medicine Pocket: Actually, you are quite the lucky one, you know.
Medicine Pocket: That old map shows there used to be stairs where you fell down, with over 100 steps. Thank goodness you live in the right time; otherwise, you would have tumbled all the way down there.
Medicine Pocket: In that case, no one can tell what you would vomit, fire, or maybe something even worse. Hmm?
Medicine Pocket's voice dies down like a flame being blown out.
Muted for a while, Medicine Pocket briskly collects the files on the table and walks towards the door.
Medicine Pocket: Wait here. I need to get someone.
Medicine Pocket: A weirdo for sure, yet the best person we can turn to for this problem.
Spathodea: ...?
Desert Flannel: Aaaaalright. I think that's the last thing I'd like to hear from a doctor.
Desert Flannel: Would you just let go of my hand, sheila? Or the good doctor here will have to cut this hand off later because of necrosis.
Spathodea: I-I will! But can I hold it for another five minutes, please? I'm sort of nervous.
Time spent in anxiety feels like a year.
Spathodea: deep breath
Desert Flannel: That's right, breathe in, breathe out. Then unbend the fingers. I'm also human, I feel pain too, sweetheart.
The footsteps of the mysterious guest coming from the hallway are getting closer and closer.
???: I can't believe how lucky I am. We haven't seen a living case for decades!
???: This is exciting. Thank you for letting me know about this, Medicine Pocket.
Medicine Pocket: Not at all, Ezra, my dear friend. See, I always keep you and your weird little mushrooms at the back of my mind, so it'd be best if you could give them to me without leaving any records in Laplace's system next time.
Medicine Pocket: Anyway, we can talk about that later. Now, go check out the girl. She might be very useful for your paper on arcanum.
Ezra: Of course, I'll tend to her in a moment. I just want to tell you how much I appreciate your thoughtfulness. I've been waiting for this for too long.
Ezra turns directly to Spathodea.
Spathodea: What?
The young researcher walks to her, as steady as a boat floating on the water, smiling.
Spathodea: Me? You mean, me?
Ezra: Certainly, Ms. Spathodea. I came for you.
Ezra: I've been briefed on your case and had a basic understanding of the inner flame temperature and the fuel through the laboratory report. Here is a list summarizing all the conditions. It's still a draft, but please take a look.
She sees a list with dense writing in ink that has barely dried.
Ezra: Since your condition has stabilized and, as a teenager, you're still in a developmental stage, I'd recommend you to run a test which is more friendly and pleasant to your nose.
Ezra grabs a Y-shaped metal rod and a piece of cotton-like material and holds them in his palm.
Ezra: Now, please blink three times at this dowsing rod and blow on it as lightly as possible.
Spathodea: Wh-What's this?
Ezra: Oooh, no, not like that. Just be gentle with it. Lower your voice so that you don't blow away the spores on the filter.
The white filter paper almost touches the tip of her nose. She can't say no to such a gentle and soft request like that.
So she closes her eyes, lowers and lowers her voice, and repeats the instruction to herself.
Spathodea: O-Okay. Blink three times ... and blow ... phew ...
The fluorescent spores on the filter paper curl immediately and turn a cheery ember color.
Ezra: And we're going to roll it up and fix it on the dowsing rod. Now, time will do its magic.
Spathodea: Doctor, is there a cure for my head? Wait, is that the smell of mushroom?
Ezra: It is related to mushrooms, and I'm not a doctor.
Ezra: Please forgive me, Ms. Spathodea. I was so overjoyed. I forgot to introduce myself.
Ezra: Hello, I'm Ezra.
Ezra: I'm a human researcher at Laplace Australia Branch. My research is mostly on the diversity of local mushrooms and fungi. I'm very thrilled to meet you.
Spathodea: You are not a doctor? Just a researcher and a human?
Spathodea: And you are working on mushrooms?
Ezra: That's right. It's a shame that I didn't become a member of the Arcane Study team, but I'm equally interested in mushrooms. I enjoy this job.
Spathodea turns pale holding her face, and steps back in horrified disbelief.
Spathodea: So, they get you here to treat me, which means ...
Spathodea: I am not a descendant of the Red Dragon, but that of mushrooms? I-I'm a fire-breathing mushroom girl?!
Ezra: No, I'm not here to diagnose your abnormality, Ms. Spathodea.
Ezra: You're perfectly healthy. Your brain CT result looks normal, and I can see you're in good shape. In a stricter medical sense, you're almost one of the healthiest people I've ever seen.
Desert Flannel: Ha! Finally, someone has a sharp eye!
Desert Flannel: So the truth has been unraveled—there has never been any illusions, nor is anybody putting on some strange, absurd fire-spitting show, and …
Ezra: But she did not lie. Please take a look at this.
Ezra: According to the analysis, the core of her fire consists of an obsidian gravel that has 22 evenly distributed layers.
Ezra: This is no modern thing. It's old, dating back thousands of years.
Desert Flannel: What ... what do you mean? Whose side you're on?
Ezra: Emm. Have I made it difficult for you to understand?
Ezra: Well, you'll know when you see it. Please bear with me for five minutes.
Holding the metal rod, Ezra switches the buttons on the machine. The moss in the backpack exhales, letting out a cloud of mist.
Ezra: Have you heard of the "reincarnators"?
Ezra unfolds the filter paper and holds the two ends of the rod.
Ezra: It's one of the arcanist's lineages, a rare kind. Since this power can only be randomly triggered, and its manifestation could happen anywhere, anytime, and in any fashion, it is hard to identify them when there is one.
Ezra: The most well-known case must be Dorothy of London.
Ezra: She fell down the stairs in her own house and lost every vital sign. But she woke again and became the ancient Egyptian Bentreshyt.
Desert Flannel: You ... you are not saying that she's ...
Ezra: Ms. Spathodea is a "reincarnator."
Ezra: Those so-called illusions are not the result of any brain damage, they were once real. It's her past.
Ezra: Based on the past cases, she'll go through a period of mental turmoil. That could be short or longer than anyone could expect, but eventually, she will become herself again—the old self.
Desert Flannel: But how is that possible? Everybody knows that the "reincarnators" are just some lousy, made-up tabloid stories.
Ezra: That's right. Sensationalism—that's the mainstream opinion about the "reincarnators."
Ezra: In Dorothy's case, her experience of learning Egyptian and her career as an archaeologist also caused controversies over her true lineage, which is understandable since people haven't seen any "reincarnator" in years.
Ezra: But at the beginning of the 20th century, when Dorothy fell down the stairs which decided her fate, Laplace Scientific Computing Center established its Australia Branch, carrying out studies of local fungi.
Ezra: The fungi study is a brand new direction, and it has been secretly developing next to the public since, like the Australian honey fungus, growing without getting anyone's attention.
Ezra: The facts will speak for themselves. Please allow me to prove it to you.
Ezra: Medicine Pocket, could you please turn off the light for us?
Ezra: Cheers.
The poles of that metal fork sway in the dark room, letting out a buzzing sound like a bee floating in the air.
Ezra: When we talk about reincarnation, the real question behind it is whether the "soul" exists.
Ezra: Because the "soul" is commonly considered to be the essence of what makes a person who he or she is. If a person dies, his or her soul will return to the ever-circulating network.
Spathodea: Network? What network?
Ezra: A theory developed from Riemann's On the Hypotheses Which Underlie Geometry described the world as an eternal, vast, invisible, yet ubiquitous net.
Vertin: And as the news story described, a "reincarnator" is a miracle where a "soul" disappears from point A and shows up at point B without any clear reasons.
Ezra: Exactly, Ms. Vertin! I'm amazed that you know so much about the "reincarnators"!
The sparkling spores, floating in the humid air, slowly approach each other and intertwine.
Ezra: That report described the "reincarnators" is incomprehensible and spontaneous, but the truth is, we have never gotten close enough to observe and study them.
Spathodea: Mmm. Hmm? What's this shiny powder on my fingers?
Spathodea looks upwards and can't help from letting out a small cry.
Spathodea: Gosh, it's like the neural network I read in the textbook!
Ezra: You have a sharp sense. You arcanists never cease to amaze me! The latest studies have shown that the working mechanism of mushroom flora may be similar to the brain's, and we have made some progress from that.
Ezra: This is why the study of mushrooms is important; it enriches our understanding of the "reincarnators," for they are hard to find.
Spathodea: You mean, these things floating in the air are mushrooms?
Ezra: The Australian honey fungus, the mushrooms living beneath the ground.
Ezra: It's a pathogenic gem that causes the roots to rot. It was first discovered in a Eucalyptus plantation in southeastern Australia.
Ezra: At the end of the 1970s, Laplace researchers who intervened in the local environment protection found that, unlike other fungi which reproduce through the spreading of spores, the honey fungi spread by the growth of their underground mycelia all over the forest.
Vertin: You think it's like that "invisible net"?
Ezra: Yes. A net hiding underground, in which you see an object disappear at point A and magically emerge again at point B. The "reincarnators" are very similar to Australian honey fungus in this aspect.
Ezra: And with her breath, a small amount of her saliva, and the dowsing rod, we will be able to find her net and map her movements on it.
Ezra: And when her gaze emblazes the Omphalotus nidiformis ...
Desert Flannel: Ompha ... Omphalotus what? Isn't that the ghost fungus?
Ezra: Yes, the ghost fungus. The mushrooms that glow in the dark.
Ezra: They're called Chinga in older times, which means spirit and soul, the sparkle of ideas in human minds.
Vertin: If the mushroom has simulated Spathodea's "net," then these two light spots are ...
Ezra: The one closer to us represents the current Ms. Spathodea, and the farther and brighter one is what put her through the changes now.
Spathodea: So, that's me in the past?
Spathodea: And I-I will gradually turn into her?
The light is back in the room. The ventilator emitting two consecutive notifications as it extracts the sparkling lights out together with the heavy moisture in the air.
Ezra: Five minutes, we are right on time.
Ezra: Ms. Desert Flannel, how do you feel ...
Desert Flannel: D**n it! If she's so badly injured, how much would the compensation be? Is this how my life will be? Being heavily in debt?
Ezra: Ms. Desert Flannel, you're nibbling at your nails. You will get hurt from it, please stop.
Desert Flannel: Me? I'm fine. You ... are you talking to me? You were saying ...?
Ezra: Yes. I was asking how you are doing. Did you get my drift?
Desert Flannel: I ... I think ...
Desert Flannel: Well, I know it's highly unlikely that this little girl was hatched from a dragon's egg, but is it possible that she's just some kind of uncommon lizard? You know, the really ancient ones? Any, anything but a "reincarnator"!
Ezra: But ... but what you said doesn't make sense ...
Desert Flannel: What do you mean "it doesn't make sense"? There was fire coming out of her mouth!
Desert Flannel points at the fire "placed" on the couch, which is still burning, and shakes her digital pet machine.
Desert Flannel: And my only family here is a pixel emu. Does it make sense to you?
Ezra: I don't follow ...
Ezra: I know this is not your fault. It's just your arcanist nature taking over. It's very normal if you got too carried away by your emotions and became delusional and hysterical.
Ezra: Please take my hand. I was once trained to help arcanists calm down. Now breathe with me, in ... and out ...
Desert Flannel: Me? I'm not hysterical!
Said the hysterical girl with offense.
Spathodea: Hey, what do you know about arcanists? You're not even one of us!
Said the outraged bystander.
In the white room, the argument snowballs tumbling out of control, letting a wisp of smoke slither across the room unnoticed.
Vertin: Everyone ...
Ezra: Please believe me that I meant you no harm, Ms. Spathodea. I was only trying to help.
Spathodea: Help? How? By calling us delusional?
Spathodea: There is nothing I hate more than humans like you saying that others are "over-emotional"!
Vertin: People.
Ezra: No, nothing like that. Ms. Spathodea. It is not my intention to criticize anything or anyone. It's just, biologically, arcanists tend to be more sensitive and easily affected.
Ezra: I also like arcanists, almost as much as I'm interested in mushrooms, that's why I study them ... Hmm?
Ezra: Do you smell something burning?
Before they realize it, the flame "placed" on the couch has already devoured its seat and the floor, spread to the door, and completely blocked their way out. The burning heat is approaching at a terrifying speed.
Spathodea: A fire?! It's the flame I spat out! Wh-When did it grow so large!?
Vertin: I tried to warn you.
Vertin: It has grown larger and larger as your "lizard hypothesis" heated up. I'm sure the guards of Laplace will break in soon.
Laplace Security: Security of Laplace Research Center Hospital taking over. All patients and non-staff, please follow me to evacuate the room!
Laplace Security: Evaluating fire level ... Level 2. Extinguishing the fire.
Laplace Security: Source of ignition confirmed. Request for permission to use Kangaroo Foam Fire Extinguisher III!
Spathodea: Whoa! Wait wait wait! You can't put out my flame!
Spathodea: It's important for me, very, very important! I don't know why, but its importance is for sure! Those bubble kangaroos will kick its butt once they see the flames! I don't want that!
Vertin: I'll protect it for you. Don't worry.
COMBAT
Medical Staff: There you go. Now you're free from the fuzzy foam.
Spathodea: Thank goodness, uh, I mean thank you. Though I still smell like a joey, I'm much better now.
Medical Staff: In the early stages of arcane ability awakening, the rate of arcanists losing control can reach 74.3%.
Medical Staff: But it doesn't mean that you can set a fire in the clinic of the Laplace Research Center Hospital, or fight the security to "protect the flame."
Spathodea: sobs I know. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do this, and I have no idea why my flame grew so ... so large all of a sudden. That never happened before.
Spathodea: I know I should have been responsible and noticed the anomaly earlier. I-I was completely lost in the argument.
She buries her face in her hands and is still trying to bury it even deeper.
Medical Staff: The silver lining is, as the fire was still under control, they used the Kangaroo Foam Fire Extinguisher, and thus it didn't cause any casualties.
Medical Staff: Please write down your emotional changes and physical reactions that occurred during the incident on this sheet of paper. We'll keep tracking your physical health information.
Medical Staff: The Concentration Potion is on that table, and there are blankets and Type II PMMA safety boxes in the cabinet under the table. Please keep the hazards sealed for safekeeping.
Spathodea: Okay. Got it.
Medical Staff: You are still in an unstable state. Please have a rest here, and don't move around.
Medical Staff: If you need anything, please press the call bell on your left, and our nursing staff will come to help.
The medical staff collects the tray and walks out of the clinic, leaving the room in silence again.
Spathodea: Hmm. Well, in case we burn another room ...
Spathodea: The box she mentioned is ... Oh, here it is.
Flame: burning
She opens the transparent box and leans in towards the little flame.
Spathodea: I know freedom matters, little flame.
Spathodea: But we have no choice. Sorry, buddy!
Flame: burning
She reaches out a hand to push the flame into the box with great caution.
Spathodea: All right, listen, my teacher said fire needs oxygen to burn, so I'll leave a small window for you to breathe.
Flame: I ... have ... always ... wanted ...
Flame: to ... see ... you ...
Spathodea: What?!
Flame: Go ...
Spathodea: Are-Are you talking?! Gosh! The call bell! Where's the call bell?
Flame: Go ... back ... to ... Ulu ...
Flame: We must ... go back to ... Uluru ... Games ...
Spathodea: ...!
Spathodea: Uluru ... Uluru Games? You mean, the Uluru Games?
Spathodea: Make it clear, little flame, make it clear! What's going on with the Uluru Games?
Spathodea grabs the flame in a hurry.
The sparkling flame starts devouring her palm bite by bite.
Spathodea: Ah! The fire ... It's burning on me?! It feels different this time. It's so hot ...
Far faster than expected, the flame spreads over her, and her cry for help fades into the burning red.