I looked at it, the ring of life, the ring of all lives.
Your hands form the ring, and the judgment is pronounced.
On the doomsday, at the dusk when history fades away.
Oh world! Its head bites its feet, its knees touch its nose.
Oh man! They inhabit the earth, waiting for the sky to fall.
Yesterday turns into tomorrow, tomorrow reverts to yesterday.
Who shall vanish in the rain?
Who shall be granted the eternal happiness, the grace from above—
And that emptiness, the cessation of existence?
Kakania: What is it that you want, Isolde?!
Kakania: I thought the Foundation was exaggerating the truth. But you, you are ...
Isolde: Are you mad, doctor? Because I killed Mr. Karl?
Isolde: ... I thought it would make you happy.
Kakania: Happy? Why would I be happy?
Isolde: Because he was a boastful man, his ideas were at odds with yours, and he contributed to the repression of this era. A bureaucrat you hate the most.
Isolde: He treated us like stains on the wall to be covered up in shame. And he was the kind of man who'd pocket the gold foil whenever he found any.
Isolde: Society is dying because of these hypocrites. Don't you think we should have the surgery and remove them?
Her words, mad as they are, manage to convey a warm sincerity.
Kakania: ... I didn't know ...
Kakania: I didn't know you would interpret my words this way.
Kakania: I deeply regret ever telling you that ...
Isolde: ... What?
Isolde: Why? Why are you being so cruel to me?
Isolde: It was you who said that everyone was sick and dying, even though they pretended to be fine. Yet the source of the sickness lay not in ourselves, but in the twisted era we lived in.
Isolde: A radical surgery is the only way to remove this ugly tumor ...
Isolde: And it was also you who told me to stop repressing and to embrace my desires. We should restore the world to what it was like, a kingdom of freedom where everyone will be happy ...
Isolde: Are these not your words? Or have I misunderstood them?
Kakania: ...
Isolde: Why won't you look at me? Have I made such a big mistake that you don't want to see me again?
Isolde: No, no, no ...
Isolde: Please answer me, I'm begging you. You are my only friend and the one I cherish most in the whole world ...
Isolde: Doctor, what on earth have I done wrong? Why won't you forgive me?
Kakania's stone-like visage does not crack.
Isolde chokes dramatically.
Isolde: Is it because ... I'm too stupid to understand your words?
Isolde: Or because I'm also sick with the incurable tumor?
Isolde: If that's the case, please help me ... Hold my hands, touch my face, hug me, and talk to me heart to heart like you used to.
Isolde: Doctor, doctor ...
Isolde approaches.
She reaches out a grasping hand at a fleeting corner of her garment.
Isolde: ... I saw myself in that dream of yours, like looking into a mirror.
Isolde: It was dusk when we had that conversation. It was the first time in my life that I saw the sun.
Isolde: Your dream filled my empty life with meaning. You saved me from being just a cursed vessel.
Isolde: That was a beautiful dream ...
Isolde: So beautiful that I forgot how ugly I was while staring at it.
Kakania: ...
Isolde: I'm just trying to realize your dream.
Isolde: Am I ... wrong?
Kakania: ... I never thought you would commit a crime over my words.
Isolde: Crime? You mean what I'm doing right now? You don't like it?
She steps forward anxiously, fearing she might miss something.
Isolde: The Foundation knows all the truths, yet they won't tell us anything.
Isolde: That's why we have to release everything they repress ... the news, the hysteria, the riots, the chaos. That's what Manus Vindictae told me.
Isolde: Is this not like your dream? Did I misunderstand?
Kakania: What? What in the world did they tell you?
Isolde: Heh heh ... They told me the method of salvation, doctor.
Isolde: They gave me the opportunity to save your loved ones, the world, and your dream.
The fall is painful.
The space below the stage feels unexpectedly vast.
Marcus: coughs
Marcus: Where am I?
Enormous props fill the back area, with black and white shadows painted directly onto the floor.
Forming another stage beneath the stage.
A familiar scent lingers in the air, prompting Marcus to rub her nose.
Marcus: coughs I've smelled this before ...
Hofmann: ...!
Heinrich: Welcome, Angelotti, and Unknown Lady from the Foundation.
Heinrich: Welcome to the small beginning of our new world.
On the stage, he still gives a perfect impression of a harmless gentleman.
Heinrich: Whoa! Sleeping bullets from Laplace ... You almost hit me, miss! I can't let you through, though, not now. The leading actress is busy.
Heinrich complains, hopping to the side and out of the bullet's path.
Heinrich: The curtain has been raised, ladies, and the show is about to begin. Why not open your hearts before the lights come on?
Heinrich: Let's sit down and have a civilized conversa—whoa!
This next bullet fires true, but the air is so clouded with dust that the target had already moved before it struck.
Hofmann: There is no need to negotiate with a terrorist.
Hofmann: You will have the chance to talk to our specialist after I take you to the headquarters.
Heinrich: A terrorist? You wound me!
Heinrich: Is it because I wear the mask of Manus? Because I revealed the truth you've been hiding? Or because ...
Heinrich: ... we accelerated the "Storm" and made this era end earlier than expected?
A glow of arcane skill breaks through in response to his query.
Marcus raises her hand, the lamp dispelling some of the darkness.
Marcus: Let me help you, Madam Hofmann!
Heinrich: My Angelotti, why are you standing with the enemy? You're supposed to be one of us.
Marcus: Angelotti ...? Is that me?
Heinrich: I am your "salvation," from the real terrorists of the world!
Marcus: ... "Salvation"?
This familiar term catches her ears, burning in them.
This ordinary word has become most irritating.
The speech, given from the cover of the props, continues.
Heinrich: Angelotti with a full case of books! Tell me, of all the books you have read and all the documents you have worked with, did any of them ...
Heinrich: ... mention the catastrophe that suddenly broke out in the summer of 1914?
Heinrich: The scourge of the 20th century, the real history!
Isolde: You have such a kind heart, doctor, yet you don't know the truth. How are you going to bear the pain when you do?
Isolde: Theophil set himself on fire, Ben hanged himself to death, Emmanuel laid himself on the railroad tracks ...
Kakania: Are they the suicide cases in Vienna? They all came into contact with the Manus?
Isolde tilts her head back, laughing brokenly.
Isolde: Heh heh, hahahaha ... I can see them, I can hear them, the ghosts of future history, haunting the city from above!
Isolde: Heads full of holes! Heads covered in shrapnel! Empty stomachs! Even the ghosts of little children ... I can see them all! Cities bombed to the ground, and trains full of people headed straight for death!
Isolde: It is coming, IT IS COMING! By then, the guts hanging from trees will be more vibrant than spring flowers! There will be bullets, helmets, gauze! Hahaha!
Isolde: We have no future, doctor!
Heinrich: How I wish it were a farce, a farce that claimed the lives of more than ten million people, a farce that dozens of leaders decided to take part in.
Heinrich: ... Ben, a dear friend of mine ... He played the best Fantasia in A Minor ever, but came back from the battlefield missing an arm and a leg.
He remembers that day. When the generous Mr. Forget Me Not stepped across the deck, his questions stifled by a stack of thick letters.
Heinrich: And Emmanuel. His hands were born to write poetry, but he was sent to the front and dug trenches until he died of disease.
When did Emanuel stop painting? He could not even recall his old friend's handwriting ... It was blurry now.
Only his anger remains vivid.
Heinrich: Our hands are meant to hold paintbrushes, play pianos, and write stories ... but they end up in gunfire because you narrow-minded hypocrites keep inciting them to violence.
Heinrich: We've already suffered for our gifts. Now we have to watch our talented friends sacrifice themselves for man's childish tantrums.
Heinrich: Ladies, you know all of this ... yet you call us terrorists?
Hofmann: ...
Hofmann: coughs weakly
Having been quiet for a worrying amount of time, Hofmann coughs up a mouthful of blood, dragging attention back to her.
Marcus: ...?!
Hofmann clutches her chest, falling just short of collapsing to her knees.
Her face is now deathly pale, and Marcus watches as the cold face she wears contorts with streaks of pain and unease.
Marcus: Madam Hofmann? Madam Hofmann!
Heinrich continues to speak, entirely unconcerned.
He points at Hofmann.
Heinrich: The real terrorists are you, humans!
Heinrich: It was you who started that war!
