What a wild ride. Who thought a story about a girl trying to help her friend hook up with the teacher by showing their boobs in the shadow of a giant spaceship would end in time-paradoxes, the end of all civilization, and a post-apocalyptic war between the USA, China, and Google? But hey, here we are.

This series was very weird. It feels unfulfilling by the end, mostly because a huge amounts of the various volumes that desperately wanted to discuss the worldbuilding of this world, but also completely unfocused the story from the heart, which is the two main protagonists. And because of the nature of the story, focusing on time paradoxes and alternate timelines, a bit of the story feels cheap at times.

But this series was never about any ongoing story. This was an emotional romp. The destination was never goal; it was the journey that counts, and you have to absolutely appreciate the journey you're taken on.

This journey is mature, it's bonding, it's heartfelt, and it's very, very sad. It's also very complicated, and very philosophical, readily wading not only into the idea of what modernity is, but also what post-modernity is. Which, as pretentious as it is to say, I think is something important with this piece of media. It's so disconnected, unflinching, and raw. It doesn't care how it's presented, because it understands that post-modern art shouldn't care about presentation or context. Everything is viral, everything simply exists, so context doesn't matter in the long term.

Instead, it invests all its energy into the context of itself, before reinventing itself, constantly, over and over. It never settles, it's always ready to flip over the table and start from scratch. This is something Asano has done before, but he's really wild about it here. And because of the epic scope of everything, it's hard not to appreciate just how much is going on all at the same time, and how interconnected it all is.

The problem with a story that both is highly contextual and also deliberately robs its own context through paradoxy is that is that, at some point, you're going to get invested into what the story is trying to say, and then the story will stop speaking to you. I went through that feeling perhaps 4 times throughout the series. I constantly felt comfortable, and then the series did something that deliberately was weird or discomforting. Then, predictably, I was lulled back into comfort, before the same process repeated.

That's a very unfun and unpleasant thing to experience and read. But isn't that the whole point of the narrative? To not get tied down by the life presented to you? To live life to the fullest, no matter what it is? And if that life doesn't work, there are infinite other lives and opportunities just out of reach. Is that a nice thing to think? Sort of. But we can get so attached to our conceptions of reality. To have that challenged, even in fiction, can be frustrating and weird.

Is this series good? I think it's very good. The art alone is astounding. Graphic design is Asano's passion, and seeing his title cards always brought joy. Seeing his gorgeous full-spreads always stunned. Seeing his rawness, the powerful art he could put to display, along with what is both one of the most vapid and most serious stories I've ever seen is just a treat. Does this story frustrate me? Yes. But damn, was it ever a good time.