Record of Yoshio Kawashita. Impounded in the Archives of Anna Sigrid Nestor. Not for release until A.D. 2600.
Transcription of all-body record:
The pain and darkness are complete. He is on his back, staring at the dark blue sky, watching stars move and fall one by one, then return. Like universes dying and being born. Then the images steady and the pain subsides. "Hello," Yoshio says. "Where is she? What did she do to me?"
He thinks he hears somebody speaking, but he can't see anyone around him. He can't see the woman who cut him. He can see a spreading pool of blood, and feel a bitter taste in his mouth, and hear the voice—and there are buildings all around—but nothing makes any sense.
Then his hearing clears.
"Who would you have us be? We did not judge, only studied."
"What?"
"Your reactions told us what we needed to know."
"Where are you?"
"We conclude our final experiment. You have been curious to know what we are and where we come from. There is no need to conceal the answers now. We are not another species; we are not even self-aware by your standards. We are simply 'agents' created to represent another group of beings. Only a few species will be able to survive the end of this universe and seed the next."
"Have I been worthy?" Kawashita asks. "Why come back and tell me these things?"
"It is apparent that human beings represent no threat to our creators, our interests. You have basic flaws which will prevent you from finishing in the competition. You will attempt to create your own agent, but you won't understand why, or the functions it must serve, and you will destroy it. Knowing this, we have no further curiosity. You have done well in your thoughts and researches. No more could have been expected, for your circumstances were extraordinary. It is unfortunate that your very nature as a human being has prevented you from reaching your goal. But full understanding is a thing granted to few species, much less individuals.
"The Perfidisians have never been. Now even their illusion passes on."
The stars fade and fall again. He sits quiet, lips working. "Not kami," he says. "You took me, you needed me to fail, to make the experiment fulfill . . . I was not wanting! I was not failing. Everything possible . . . "
He closes his eyes, takes a deep, shuddering breath, and opens them again.
"But you are wrong," he says. "Very, very wrong." He takes out the tapas and tries to smash it on the concrete. After three swings, the recording stops, but not because he has damaged the machine.