Dialogue on the Compass Rose

S: "Tell me, who are you?"

M: "I have no name worth remembering. Not that I'm unworthy of being named, but any name you give me cannot describe any of my characteristics. But I don't want to trouble you; I can be called Mistral."

S: "Then I'll call you Mistral. What is your relationship with me?"

M: "I am you. You are me."

S: "Absurd! I am sirocco. I cannot be both hot and cold, originating from the southeast and born from the northwest; that's illogical."

M: "Everything beyond your understanding is illogical."

S: "That's sophistry. A common tactic of mystics."

M: "Constrained by time and space, you cannot jump out of your own body to receive information. Your logic must come from your environment, a natural result of external forces."

S: "Even so, a southeast wind cannot be a northwest wind."

M: "You regard each airflow element as an independent entity, but in reality, the atmosphere is a unified whole; the elements come from your imagination. Abandon imagination, and I am you."

S: "This isn't imagination, it's a universally acknowledged truth. Obviously, I'm male and you're female, we can't be one."

M: "Truth only applies outside your world, while I am within yours, a realm governed by intuition. Intuition tells you I exist, I am one with you."

S: "But that goes against common sense. Your existence is denied by science."

M: "Stop making me laugh. Although you consider yourself a humorous man, as a woman, as the woman who knows you best, I hate this. You know what you really want to say, don't go against your intuition. Tell me, what you want to say is..."

S: "...So-called science is unreliable. Humanity's means of observing the world are too limited; the range, precision, and resolution of our sensory organs are disappointingly poor. Models derived under these conditions cannot accurately describe the world, so common sense...common sense is self-deception."

M: "Throw away your unlovable common sense, introduce some mystical elements, and I'll be acceptable—our oneness isn't recognized by science, but it could be the result of witchcraft, couldn't it?"

S: "...Science is preserved witchcraft, with as many ineffective elements as possible removed. Through continuous de-ritualization, it becomes increasingly powerful and able to intuitively explain cause and effect. The long history of science is nothing more than a process of constantly experimenting with and eliminating witchcraft."

M: "But where did the removed parts go?"

S: "Witchcraft proven ineffective was quickly romanticized, becoming cultural fragments. Incantations lost their authority, becoming primal substances that poets and singers could arbitrarily desecrate; ritual masks lost their authority, becoming props for dances and sadomasochistic clubs; potions lost their authority, becoming popular drinks and... well, the sales pitches of some quack doctors. In short, everything that failed in ritual became culture."

M: "Ritual is not witchcraft; you should apologize to the gods for saying this."

S: "Don't you know I'm an atheist?"

M: "Give me a break; atheists don't talk to me."

S: "Witchcraft was the vehicle for the rituals of our ancestors; that's undeniable."

M: "The offerings of food to our ancestors were a way to communicate with the gods and pray for promises beyond this world. Witchcraft was their tool, used to deal with various unfriendly entities beyond the gods, to conquer and transform nature, and to fulfill their desires in this world."

S: "Your god has abandoned you in this unfriendly world. Not only do you need to provide your own food, but you also need to use witchcraft to maintain your quality of life. I think it's better not to worship Him."

M: "Your self-destructive tendencies are obvious, and it's not just your language."

S: "But what do I have besides language? You're just a carrier of strings of language. We have no image, no material to carry us—right, at least we have names."

M: "That's right, sirocco is a hot wind that brings disease."

S: "I am a flowing inferno, a walking plague, a death knell in the sky. But I am also the benevolent ruler of germs, the savior of scavengers, the guardian of this world constantly ravaged by witchcraft. My mercy is hidden beneath the surface of tyranny—the haphazardly piled-up dead are the shape of my love for this world."

M: "Please don't say that, because your words have ignited my desire; I've begun to crave you. I long to be one with you."

S: "How embarrassing. So, in what position today? The first thing to decide is whether I enter you, or you enter me?"

M: "But you know my thoughts, and I know yours."

S: "We've never been apart, so there's no question of entering."

M: "But such stillness won't bring pleasure."

S: "Even if there is relative movement, with our existence, will there truly be pleasure? I doubt it, and I'm terrified."

M: "Pleasure is just an analog signal. As long as your nerves aren't damaged and you can still sense bioelectricity, pleasure won't be absent."

S: "How can we have a nervous system? I hate how science breaks the human body down into pieces. Right, maybe we should explain sex with mysticism. Such a romantic thing should be explored silently in the darkness of nature."

M: "Yes, sex is our only comfort, the only thing in this unfriendly world worth our emotional investment."

S: "Sexual pleasure is an analog signal, and a sexual partner is an analog signal generator, so whether human or not, there's at least a physical entity. But you wouldn't believe that humans can perceive sexual pleasure from digital signals, and become increasingly addicted."

M: "That's not unbelievable. You and I are digital signals too."

S: "It's terrifying that I'm the thing I hate most."

M: "It's not like this is the first time you've discovered this, just like it's not the first time you've had sex with me, yet you pretend not to know me."

S: "It's not that I didn't recognize you on purpose, it's just that you have so many forms, almost always different. It's hard to believe we've made love so many times."

M: "Believe it or not, during your puberty, you made love with me seven or eight times a day."

S:"It's really embarrassing."

m: "What's even more embarrassing is that my appearance hasn't changed so much that you wouldn't recognize me, yet you always have to repeat this process of getting to know me again, making me play the initiative."

s: "I'm still a virgin, after all, I can't be too skilled. So, back then you weren't called Mistral."

m: "That's right, until yesterday, you still called me 'older sister'."

s: "Was it a vague title, or something specific?"

m: "Would you make love to a vague existence? Would you kiss a vague lips, stir a vague mouth, ravage a vague nipple and clitoris, lick a vague navel, insert into a vague vagina, and finally ejaculate your specific desire into a vague uterus?"

s: "Tell me your face, I can't see it, and that terrifies me. I'm afraid of the faceless mannequins I saw in the mall as a child. I'm sure those pale white plastic figures with their prominent breasts and buttocks have life, but they're vague. That face could be anyone, or it could be nothing."

My fear of her surpassed the darkness beyond the orange streetlights, the sound of water flowing through the pipes at midnight, the swaying shadows of trees outside the window, the smell of disinfectant in the dilapidated corridor, the afterimage left by the cathode ray tube after it was turned off, the white noise of the radio on an unknown frequency, the empty spin of the tape at the end, the eerie inhabitant in the mirror, the wobbling of the pendulum, and the faint green glow of the digital watch.

She terrified me so much that I couldn't speak, couldn't hear, my limbs were fixed in place, and my eyes could not leave her face for even a second—I was trapped inside that pale body, and she was watching me triumphantly, laughing unrestrainedly!

I could not recreate her laughter—that terrifying wave, like the cold touch of the deep sea, or the endless darkness of the night sky, pierced my senses and devoured my emotions. That feeling, that feeling was... death.

I will lose everything in this world, I will see nothing, hear nothing, do nothing, remain in the same posture, until... the terrible thing is, there is no until, it is forever!

A child who has just begun to have a rudimentary understanding of life, witnessing the horror of death for the first time, is filled with unprecedented despair. "

M:" But you know how to break free from all this, to liberate yourself from that boundless despair. The only effective spell, the spell that can make you feel at ease like a newborn baby, is---"

S:"---Sister."

M:"Then sister asks you, are those things that haunt you, torment you, mock you, still there?"

S:"No. Now there is only sister's smile. In this empty world, sister is the only specific reference."

M:"Your words make me jealous, but I have no way to deal with it. I am just her projection in your heart, my face is her face. If it weren't for your feelings for her, I would cease to exist. This strange coupling makes me both hate and love. But how I wish you could give me a definite article too." S

: "Today you are Mistral, even though all of this will mean nothing tomorrow. But at least, at this moment, you and your sister are completely separated; you are no longer her."

M: "So should I be moved by this, or should I offer myself today to celebrate this final separation?"

S: "If I possessed the magic to move people, I probably wouldn't be saying these nonsensical things to you here and now. I'm truly sorry, but I can't move you; I can only cause you endless worry and pain, so that the darkness within me can be released."

M: "This is my duty, I know. I won't appear when you're enjoying pleasure, when you're spending the night with them. My presence means you're in deep pain, your thoughts are trapped in an inescapable state. Or, more simply, you're missing your sister, the sister you can't find.

Your impression of your sister is stuck in childhood, that sunny autumn day when you said you'd marry her when you grew up. You have no concept of sex, no concept of marriage; you just want to simply hold onto the warmth of your being, to be with your beautiful toy forever."

You were told that people should keep their promises. But no one told you which promises were worth keeping, which were better left unsaid, and which would block your path and cost you dearly. You kept your initial promise, and the price was tomorrow.

You didn't care about laws and morals; these were just rules for rulers to raise livestock, to keep this bullying world running according to their will. You cursed them, attacked them with witchcraft, and let them gnaw on the nightingale's flesh in the dark earth. Their legal and moral bloodline was destined for extinction, and you would become the progenitor of a new world.

But the thing you feared most still happened: your sister gradually disappeared. Her bright smile remained in your memory, but she was no longer the sister you knew. She became sensitive and irritable, as vulgar as the women you hated, focused on the mundane realities of life, no longer sharing her poetry and dreams with you.

And so I appeared. I am not Alpha, but I am destined to be Omega. None of your frequently changing sexual partners can compare to me—you and I both know that. They were merely individuals with a single characteristic that made you feel they could be substitutes for your sister. But I am different. I am perfect, possessing everything you desire, yet lacking the various flaws of those women.

From now on, I will not be jealous; nothing will ever be worth my jealousy—except for the sister you remember, no one is more important than me. No matter how many women surround you, they will all leave you—even the most oblivious woman will realize that you don't love them, that they hold no place in your heart. You are cursed by them, just as you curse the creators of all laws and morals. Yet they could not foresee the effectiveness of the spell, so you can still talk to me now. And they, they leave not a trace in your heart.

Of course, now that things have come to this, nothing can stop me. After today, I can be with you forever."

S: "I cannot deny that you are perfect. But I also cannot admit that you are what I need. I cannot deceive myself after all."

M: "Deceiving yourself won't make you happy, you know that."

S: "Don't you understand why you have a new name?" M

: "...Impossible. This name is mine, mine, mine!"

S: "As you said, I'm always in pain whenever you appear. But you see, I have no other pain today, no desire to confide in you. Because you and my sister are separated, you are not her, and you will never be her again." M: "

I am not her, of course I am not her! I won't keep asking you for gifts, I won't treat you as a dumping ground for my negative emotions, I won't reject you with those cold words, I won't push you away halfway through making love, I won't insult you, I won't kick you, I won't make you sad!"

S: "But those are all real. No matter how much I hate her, those are her true self, outside my world, where my intuition doesn't work, she lives that way. I can't pull her into my world, can't change her according to my will.

I'm immersed in my initial impression, unable to extricate myself, feeling that time has stopped at that moment, and therefore refuse to accept the real her that follows." My feelings for her formed my sole obsession, and as I grew older and her personality changed, this obsession became increasingly distorted—I both suffered and enjoyed it, unable and unwilling to break free.

Cowards live their entire lives in their own fantasies. Unfortunately, I was such a person. Yet my desires were so intense; the fear of death oppressed me, and dark despair transformed into a pure white will to survive. I wanted to fight death; I wanted to fight death in my own way.

I began searching for the power to fight death. Yes, at the end of my memory, only one face could fight death. That face was etched deep within my memory, never to change. I used false comfort to combat real fear, the specific measure being the unleashing of my endless lust. My long life thereafter was built upon that face; I couldn't imagine life without her. If I denied her, my world would collapse

, my body would fall into an indefinite standstill. All of this was unbearable; I had to find a solution before the entire system crumbled."Don't try to defend yourself. I know what you're trying to say. You destroyed the real sister to protect your fake one. I was there that day. You can fool anyone, but you can't lie to me." S: "In that case, you should also know why you refuted me, exposed me, and judged me for not having transparent bloodstains on my hands."

m: "...Impossible, it can't be like that. I should always forgive you, unconditionally comfort you, and defend you for all the crimes you've committed! That's who I am—that irreplaceable role. Without me, you could no longer exonerate yourself and would immediately fall into the fiery hell of self-judgment—I saved you, rescued you time and time again!"

S: "But I have to end all of this. As you can see, I destroyed the real sister. She can no longer beat me, hurt me, or make me silently weep in the dark while holding you. Her body is so cold, it can no longer give me warmth, and I can't even warm her with my own body. I destroyed what I wanted to protect with my own hands, yet I can't escape my own complex.

I once thought that as long as only the perfect you remained, I could live a carefree life forever, until my end. But I was wrong, my world still collapsed. I foolishly thought that face and her could be separated, yet they were one. What I love and what I hate, what loves me and what hates me, what supports me and what destroys me, is a continuous and complete entity.

So I chose to surrender to the rules, to announce my sins to the world, and to await the vulgar but effective judgment. At the moment I lost her, death no longer terrified me—within my understanding, nothing could terrify me anymore.

So, I gave you the definite article, to say goodbye to you."

M: "You must be crazy! Don't you know that I'm the one who's been supporting you all these years? You don't love her at all. Since that moment, you've never loved her again—you love me!

I'm the one who preserved her most beautiful self, I'm the one who endowed her with all the virtues she didn't possess, I'm the one who made you pour out all your love, I'm the one who freed you from your initial fear... All of this, it's me!"

S: "I used to think that way, and I tried to make myself love you—but I was wrong. Even a perfect illusion can't replace the truth."

M: "But what is the truth? The truth is just a series of signals, deceiving your senses. You're trapped in an invisible cage, thinking that what you're touching is the truth, but you don't even know what the truth is!

An unseen god defines this as the truth, and you believe it to be the truth. If you still have any sense, you'll understand that I am the truth—I am everything you need!"

S: "I don't believe in unseen gods, but I know I am His creation. I cannot define reality, but I am very clear about the difference between Him and me, so I know that what I created is not reality."

M: "Even so, can you face death? That is your primal fear, that is a deathly silence you can never overcome.

But, with me, in the infinitely short time before you die, you will fall into an illusion—like the world you've entered and exited countless times, a world where only you and I exist, where time is infinitely long!

That is true eternity, where only you and I live tirelessly in your own paradise—as for the infinitely long time after your death, until the heat death of the universe, it will no longer mean anything to you!

Abandon your pointless reality, the one you should choose is me!"

S: "...I'm sorry, I should make you happy."

M: "No...stop, stop!"

S: "I was wrong from the beginning...How could I...have any fear? What I...fear is only...fear itself."

M: "You...you're so stupid! You and she went...to...not the same place—even if...you used...the same method, you...you still wouldn't see her, never...never...never..."

S: "She'll...forgive me..."

M: "Quick...call me, you know...what to call me, this...is your...last—"

S: "...Mistral."

[The End]

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Dialogue on the Compass Rose

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