After that conversation, a burst of static crackled from Hertz's speaker.
Before long, a new conversation began.
"Old friend, I may not have long to live." It was still that slightly weathered voice.
"What nonsense are you talking about? You're still young, not even fifty yet. How could you possibly be dying?" This was a somewhat shrill male voice, carrying an air of gloom.
"I don't want to die either, but you know I was corroded by that thing..." The voice lowered, as though the signal had worsened, and only faint rustling noises came through.
After a while, the volume rose again.
It sounded as though someone was walking across a wooden floor.
When he reached a certain spot, he stopped.
"I'll leave this original painting in your care. I wouldn't feel at ease entrusting its resting place to anyone else... I'll hang this copy I made here for now."
The gloomy male voice said, "Why not leave it to your son?"
"He's too noisy. It didn't like chattering sounds when it was alive, and its only wish after death was eternal peace. If I gave it to him, he'd probably wake it up with all that noise."
"It'd be better if it woke up." Though the gloomy male voice said that, he still accepted the painting. "I really do want it to wake up. I haven't seen it in so many years."
"Although it'll never wake up again, if you hang it in your home, you'll at least see it every day."
"I don't want to see it that way." The gloomy male voice said, "I'm not planning to hang it at home either. This is yours, and it'll always be yours. I'll open a safe-deposit box at Loqi Bank in your name and store it there."
"Store it