Chapter 6: The Naive Anthropologist

The little girl paused for a moment, then looked up and asked, “What is anthropology, Dean?”

“It is a field of study, Hestia,” Alma said gently. “I know very little about it myself, only that its research topics include human culture, social structures, institutions, morality, and so on... Before the Great Blackout, it was a very prosperous branch of the social sciences.”

“Is that so?” Hestia’s gaze returned to the book in her hands. “Then what do they do every day?”

Alma thought for a moment. “...I suppose, as the cover says, they go into the wilderness.”

Hestia blinked. “Do they have to gather wild vegetables every day like we do?”

Dean Alma shook her head. “They go in search of ancient tribes, live and speak with people who dwell in the jungle, and try to understand their culture. Sometimes, anthropologists also visit cave sites where primitive people once lived... They are the ones who try to explain where human civilization began, and where it will end.”

Hestia eagerly turned the old book before her. “Have they found the answer?”

“Well... how should I put it?” Alma smiled. “That isn’t something that can be explained in just a few words.”

“But Miss Gerding said that only lies are cumbersome and complicated; truth is always simple, and does not need excessive words to embellish it.” Hestia looked up again. “Is that right?”

Alma laughed softly once more. “Yes, Jane... Miss Gerding is of course right.”

The old woman reached out and swiftly flipped the book back to the appendix at the end. “But I only just read an answer this morning. It may not be very simple... Would you like to hear it?”

“Yes!” Hestia answered loudly.

The elder lifted the girl into her arms again, so the restless child would not slide off her lap. She took Hestia’s finger and guided her, word by word, through the lines on the page.

The difficult, lofty vocabulary in the book made the young Hestia furrow her brow tightly, and her finger moved across the paper as slowly as a snail.

Alma read softly: “Many years ago, someone once asked the anthropologist Mina Delid which clue, among all present archaeological discoveries, most marked the birth of human civilization.

“People expected her to speak of stone tools, murals, or fossilized grains of wheat with traces of cooking. But Miss Delid did not.

“She said that the first sign of civilization should be a fractured femur that had healed.”

Hestia looked up. “What is a femur, Dean?”

“It is the thigh bone.” Alma lightly tapped Hestia’s thigh. “Right here.”

Hestia lowered her head again and began reading the rest on her own: “Miss Delid said that in the wilderness, an animal... one with a broken leg will always die quickly... It will either die of thirst or hunger, or soon become food for other beasts. And if it must both forage and avoid danger, then... the injury to its femur will never heal.

“However, we did indeed discover a femur that had once broken and then healed. This means that... someone spent a long time... caring for him.

“They stopped the bleeding... bound the wound, brought him to a safe place, and... shared food and water with him.

“When we... are... in hardship, yet... can still... help one another, that is... the beginning of civilization.”

“Yes, Jane.” Alma smiled as she held Hestia tighter in her arms. “When we are in hardship, yet can still help one another, that is the beginning of our civilization.”

Hestia felt herself enclosed in a warm embrace, and she smiled too.

But everything around her suddenly changed—the warm afternoon sunlight rapidly faded, the neat desk was instantly covered in dust, the daylight dimmed, and a familiar fear rose in her heart. Hestia lowered her head and saw that the hand with which Dean Alma had been holding her was, without her knowing when, once again wrapped in bandages.

“...”

“Eat it,” a familiar voice turned cold. A bandaged hand suddenly shoved into Hestia’s mouth. “Eat it—”

At the peak of terror, everything came to an abrupt stop.

She abruptly felt a searing pain, as though every joint in her body, every inch of skin, were being burned. Hestia finally realized that she had been immersed in a dream. In that dream, she had returned to the afternoon from years ago when she read with Dean Alma.

The loving old woman and the silhouette of the chimeric creature intertwined in her mind... which of them was the dream?

She adjusted her breathing slightly and tried to sit up, but soon discovered that it was difficult. At the moment her eyes were covered. Though she could not see, Hestia could still sense bright white light above her head, and along with it, the smell of disinfectant.

“Awake?” A woman’s voice suddenly sounded in her ear. “Don’t move, don’t open your eyes. You’re in the hospital now. You’re safe.”

Hestia’s body trembled—

“Relax. Breathe.” The voice spoke again. “Don’t be afraid. These pains are all normal. The blood from that chimera splashed into your eyes, so we had to do some treatment. The bandage over your eyes will need some time before it can be removed.”

Hestia tried to speak, but the sound that came from her mouth was only a murmur she could not even hear herself, followed by the same intense pain in her throat.

“Want to speak? If you do, move your fingers.”

Hestia gently extended all ten fingers.

The woman laughed. “The doctor said your throat has a mild acid burn, likely from biting the chimera. They’ve already applied medicine; it should be back to normal by tomorrow.”

Hestia listened quietly.

This woman’s voice was unlike Alma’s and unlike Miss Gerding’s—she spoke very quickly, her tone always flat, and every sentence that came from her ended in a crisp, decisive way, without any drawn-out cadence or unnecessary change in pitch.

Hestia heard the sound of a chair being dragged beside her. The woman sat down by her bedside.

“I know you probably have many things you want to ask. Once you’ve fully recovered, I’ll come back and answer them. For now, may I ask you a few questions? Of course, you only need to answer yes or no—if yes, don’t move; if no, move your finger. Was I clear?”

Hestia did not move.

“Good.” The woman smiled. “Then let’s begin... Your name is Jane Hestia?”

“You were born in the wilderness south of Tanay City, in the Short Call Alley area?”

“Your birth year is 4612. You are eleven years old this year, and it was Sister Gerding who brought you into Saint Anne’s Monastery in 4620—that is, when you were eight, correct?”

“And...” Chiba suddenly paused for a moment. “You are a Hestia from District Fourteen?”

Hestia’s finger twitched suddenly.

The woman glanced at Hestia. “Do you want to answer ‘no’ or ‘I don’t know’? If no, keep moving your finger. If you don’t know, then don’t move.”

Hestia went still. “I don’t know.”

The woman waited for quite a while. Seeing that Hestia remained motionless, she lowered her head and laughed. “Ha. There’s no suspense to the matter of discrimination. Who else but a Hestia would have such a head of red hair? But if you don’t even know whether you are a Hestia, then who gave you that surname?”

Hestia could not answer. She remained silent.

“Then I understand. My questions end about here.” The woman’s voice softened. Only the scratch of her pen remained in the room. After a little while, she spoke again. “Oh, right. About the monastery, there are some things I can tell you now. Would you like to hear them? If you do, move your finger.”