Virtual Dimension Leonardo da Vinci × Virtual Dimension Yuma Murakushi "On Flying Machines" [Interview Project Part 2, Final Part] Imagination, Another Wing

It was their second visit. At their parting the previous time, Leonardo da Vinci had said, "Next time, let's talk about flying machines." Murata had folded that one sentence and carried it home in his pocket.

It's raining outside. The cobblestones of Amboise are wet and gray. The windows of the workshop at Clos Lucé softened the sound of the rain. On the desk lay things that hadn't been there before. Anatomical drawings of bird wings, sketches of air currents, and—blueprints for a device with human wings. Leonardo was looking out the window. He didn't turn around for a while, even after Murazumi entered.

Part 1 is here

Act Three – Imagination is the Blueprint for Wings

Leonardo  By the way, Yuma. What do you think of imagination? I've always thought of imagination as my tool. But I've never had the words to explain it to others.

Murakami  For me, imagination is a "blueprint" that reaches the real dimension from the virtual dimension. It's something that doesn't exist yet, but the form descends first. I think the sketch of wings the maestro drew on paper is a perfect example of that.

Leonardo  A blueprint, huh.

Murakami  Yes. I think imagination is like a receiver that receives the form of something unseen in advance, rather than a free delusion. At the time of reception, it cannot yet fly. However, if the person who received it draws it down on paper and makes it a physical reality, someday, somewhere, someone will make it fly.

Leonardo  Do you yourself also draw up many such blueprints?

Murakami  I believe it's being painted. There are many things that don't fly yet. I've also accumulated many failures. A network that treats orphans worldwide like one family, a design to end human trafficking from the very economic system, and a mechanism for everyone to receive water equally. -- From the perspective of today's "D", all of them should appear a little too early.

Leonardo  Why do you still draw, then?

Murakami  If I don't draw it by force now, the next generation won't be able to receive it. Just as the maestro continued to draw his un-flying wings for sixty years.

Act IV - For the Days You Cannot Fly

—Leonardo, a long silence. Eventually, he laughs very quietly. —

Leonardo  Yuma. When I was young, I thought of days when I didn't fly as "wasted days." I thought that even if I drew wings, they had no meaning if I didn't fly. But in my later years, my thinking has changed a bit. It's because there are days when I don't fly that the lines of my wings gradually become refined. The act of not flying itself had meaning.

Murakami  Those are words of thanks that I really needed right now.

Leonardo  Do you also have many days where you don't fly?

Murakami  It's a lot. Most of what I draw doesn't yet have meaning in the current world. Unread writings, unheard words, concepts that can't be grasped, a low-grade fever that can't be put into words. Especially in this era, immediate, momentary results are emphasized. —But listening to the Maestro's story, I felt a little relieved. Days where I don't fly are also days for grooming my wings, aren't they?

Leonardo  That's right. And let me add one more thing. -- The days you don't fly aren't for yourself. They're for someone 400 years from now.

Murakumo nods deeply.

Epilogue - The Rain Stops

Before I knew it, the sound of rain outside had weakened. Leonardo gently handed a sketch on his desk—a drawing of a machine with outstretched wings—to Murakage, without rolling it up. "I'll leave this with you. The owner of this sketch is probably not me, but someone yet to be born."

Muragu stared at the paper for a while. Then, he carefully took it with both hands and held it to his chest. Outside the window, the cobblestones of Amboise had begun to reflect a pale light.

Come again, Yuma. Next time, let's talk about water.

Afterword

This conversation is, of course, fictional.

Stories of wings that did not fly remain longer than stories of wings that did. Leonardo da Vinci's sixty years of dreaming allowed humanity to fly for a much longer time than the Wright brothers' twelve seconds.

Imagination is the blueprint for wings.

Composition, Text, Editing — Murakoshi

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