Ch.16Request Log #003 – For Gremory (3)

I would need to change trains once, but fortunately it seemed I could reach the factory within a day. Since I needed time to prepare, I bought a ticket for a compartment car.

For ordinary factory workers, riding in a compartment car might have been their first time, but Gremory Chocolate Company apparently had good welfare benefits. Both of them seemed familiar with compartment cars.

I inspect the pistol I brought tucked inside my coat. Seeing the gun moving before their eyes, the two workers became a bit anxious, and one of them cautiously asked, “Um, Detective… I mean, Mr. Peter. Can you really handle this quietly? What if the veterans’ association has already stormed the factory, or if there’s already been a shootout…?”

It was the worst-case scenario. Without even putting a cigarette in my mouth, I finished checking the pistol and nodded.

“Doesn’t matter. As long as it’s not all over by the time we arrive. If they’re already fighting, I won’t hesitate to use the gun to kill the union leader, and since I’m currently disguised as someone from the Industrial Workers’ Union, I’ll just declare that this union leader gathered The Idealists illegitimately to attack a business owner who cares for his workers. Do the people there believe in Madam Gremory?”

The dwarf and kobold nodded without hesitation.

“Of course! You know, our neighbor Johnny has a daughter named Cathy who was supposed to finish school at fourteen and start working at the factory, but thanks to Madam Gremory’s high school, she can continue her education…”

“And our monthly salary includes two free movie tickets! I mean, we’re not worried about the Great Demon Lady, but she spends so much on us that it seems like she’s losing money. Everyone in town trusts her!”

Thanks to that overly kind Great Demon, handling this situation would be clean regardless of how things unfolded. I put the inspected pistol back inside my coat.

“That’s what matters. The people there will have no complaints as long as the strike is resolved and Madam Gremory’s side wins. Why, do you still seem worried?”

The two workers nodded without hesitation. They couldn’t help but be anxious. This must be their first time experiencing something like this, and judging by the company’s condition, they probably never even imagined it.

I let out a hollow laugh and patted their backs. I was used to clients becoming careless when they expected things to go well, but not the opposite.

“If you’re that anxious, try to get some sleep. To perform at your best, you need to be relaxed, well-rested, and well-fed. Nothing changes by worrying and pushing yourself too hard.”

My professional demeanor seemed to convince them, and they immediately covered themselves with blankets to try to sleep. If all business owners were like Madam Gremory and all workers were like these two, I would have starved to death by now.

After waiting for them to fall asleep, I slip out of the compartment. To the rear cars, further back… Past the passenger cars, past the storage car, to the caboose where the crew stays, and I knock on the door.

Most railway crew members were Idealists. The Hive Mind of The Idealists wasn’t stupid. They knew that no matter how numerous they were, they would be finished if picked off one by one.

A square peephole in the door opens, revealing lifeless eyes with no focus. A flat, unnatural voice follows.

“This area is for crew members only. Please return. Are you lost on the train? This train has cars numbered 1 through 18…”

I knew how to deal with The Idealists to some extent. Normally they were like machines that only performed tasks designated by the Hive Mind, so I needed to call the Hive Mind first.

“I request access to a Hive Mind terminal. The matter concerns threats to the lives of Idealist terminals on strike at the Pennsylvania Gremory Chocolate Factory.”

The Idealists referred to each individual as a terminal. They were beings whose sense of self had merged with the Hive Mind, leaving nothing but meat for a body.

A moment later, the door to the last car opens. About twenty Idealist terminals in blue crew uniforms with red scarves sat with their backs against the wall. They showed no reaction to the train’s rocking motion.

Is their ideology so lofty that it reduces humans to this state? I’d never believed in any ideology or ideal. I would act like a dog if paid, but I didn’t worship money either. That’s all.

A crew member from inside the car stands up and approaches me. A red glow appears in the unfocused eyes of the Idealist terminals. Their stiff bodies relax, and they put their hands behind their backs.

“We answer the request to call the Hive Mind. We are The Idealists, we are The Idealism, we are the collective self. We are aware that a strike is occurring at the Pennsylvania factory. What is the threat? Speak.”

It’s bizarre. It was like many men and women shouting simultaneously, yet each voice had no distinctive characteristics—an unpleasant crowd voice.

“You must know that The Idealists at that factory are participating in the strike?”

“Our eyes are everywhere. And we lent strength when someone who shared goodwill with us there said they needed power for the class struggle. We do not reverse our decisions. We do not regret.”

Shared goodwill… It seemed they hadn’t been persuaded but had simply handed over some terminals. If I killed the union leader, The Idealists at that factory would return to the Hive Mind.

First, I needed to persuade the Hive Mind. If it’s difficult to kill someone with all their limbs intact, cut off the limbs first. A well-prepared fish is easier to eat.

“Then let me ask you this. Is someone who uses The Idealists for their own gain and as meat shields a proletarian or a bourgeois?”

I directly approach them with their own logic. Seeing how they soften toward those who share goodwill with them, even this bizarre Hive Mind was ultimately a human spirit. The Hive Mind sneers.

“Do you think we’ve only been dealing with attempts to reduce our noble class struggle to a mere fight over food bowls for a day or two? Which side are you on?”

“What do you call a person who despises the idiotic idea of dividing the world in half, labeling one side as good people and the other as bad?”

The face of The Idealist connected to the Hive Mind contorts. The rest of The Idealists, who had been sitting as if unconscious, rise to their feet. Reds.

“We call them reactionaries! Useless humans who only resist without creating anything. Aphids gathering to lick the honeydew produced by our noble class struggle!”

Fortunately, the logic was flowing in the direction I wanted. This Hive Mind doesn’t doubt. It doesn’t reverse its decisions. Even words spat out in irritation stand.

“Then the one leading The Idealists at that factory must also be such an aphid. More vacation days, better welfare benefits… what use is a more comfortable life to you? What benefit is it to pieces of meat without self-awareness? Don’t you know whose hands all the gains from that struggle will end up in?”

Settling matters through words could be considered my specialty. The Idealists seemed to notice the logical fallacy and calmed down somewhat.

The Hive Mind of The Idealists, formed by the merging of many people’s minds, was certainly wise, but they had no advisors. Even if they had advisors, they would have already merged their selves.

So, I could deal with them through words. The terminal connected to the Hive Mind straightens its back again. It seemed ready to counter.

“It will go to the union leader and the workers leading the strike. They will gain, and we will help. There is a difference between hope and greed.”

“No, there’s no difference at all. Both are just dog-like behaviors where you want something you don’t have and end up ruining your body. It’s the same now. I heard the factory owner was willing to negotiate, but the union leader you trust without question refused… Are you going to doubt the workers’ words too?”

These Idealists still had a way to win this war of words. They could simply use the twenty or so self-less Idealists around me to attack me.

But creating another contradiction would be more damaging to this mental entity than losing a verbal argument. The focus disappeared from its eyes, then returned.

“Take this terminal with you. We will hear directly from the workers.”

I return to the compartment with that terminal. I wake up the two workers who were trying to sleep in their chairs and have them talk to the Idealist terminal.

The workers still made a bit of a fuss, but they told the Idealist terminal everything that was happening at the factory.

The Idealist’s expression twisted slightly when they spoke about how much they respected Madam Gremory, but less so than when they described how dictatorial the union leader was being.

“We will have a terminal waiting at Pennsylvania Station. You don’t mind direct verification?”

Saying they would verify directly was practically an admission that they had been persuaded. They just didn’t want to acknowledge it or nod, preferring to delay until the end.

“Do as you please. You lent manpower to someone who doesn’t know their place, and now I might get a car out of it, so I have no reason to refuse.”

After taunting the Idealist, I close the compartment door again. Now I decided to get some sleep until we reached the transfer station. In the short naps I took while working, I didn’t encounter the Argonne Forest.

After arriving at Pennsylvania Central Station, I meet an Idealist terminal in neat formal attire in front of the train door. Judging by the similar outfit and lack of a briefcase, it was obvious what they were trying to disguise as.

“This terminal will conduct the investigation. May I come along?”

“As you wish. We need to transfer here and travel another five or six hours, so don’t take up too much space.”

We board another compartment car. The Idealist terminal sat like a frozen corpse, disconnected from the Hive Mind. The workers shuddered at the sight.

Thus, we crossed Pennsylvania state and reached Erie, a bustling industrial city near a lake in northeastern Pennsylvania. A factory in a neighborhood like this couldn’t be small.

There wouldn’t be many people at the train station at this hour, but the station attendant seemed to recognize the two workers. They weren’t loose-lipped, were they? I gave them a suspicious look, but they were more skilled at lying than I expected.

“Willy! Tolly! Weren’t you both supposed to be at the factory? How… no, why did you come out? And who are these people behind you?”

“The union leader is just trying to extort money from Madam Gremory! So we went to the Industrial Workers’ Union and brought someone back! We wondered if this was the right thing to do!”

The station attendant relaxed. He even extended both hands politely to request a handshake. I took his hand and shook it.

“If the cause is just, our Industrial Workers’ Union will help, but as these comrades said, if it’s for personal gain… the union won’t just stand by and watch. Ah, I’m Peter Weinberg.”

“Those guys are nothing short of traitors, sir! Not only did they take down the American flag, but they even chased away the negotiation team shouting ‘Bring Gremory here!’ They’ve gone too far.”

Oh dear. I think I also spoke informally and half-threatened Gremory. Suppressing a smirk, I patted the back of his hand, which he was holding mine with both of his.

“Don’t worry. They won’t mess with someone from the Industrial Workers’ Union. I’ll talk to them.”

I walk toward the factory near the railroad with the two workers and the Idealist terminal. The sound of a bustling crowd gradually became audible.

I briefly survey the area around the factory with the binoculars I brought in my bag. There were people everywhere holding signs and clubs. Those people were likely the local veterans’ association.

And inside the factory, The Idealists without self-awareness stood guard, showing no reaction to people’s curses and shouts. They didn’t have guns yet either.

That concluded my situation assessment. Now it was time to find a way into that factory.

“So… Willy, Tolly. How did you two get out? The factory is surrounded by crowds, and I’d rather not push through them.”

Feeling they finally had a chance to be useful, they led me in the opposite direction of the path to the factory. They spoke with confident voices.

“We used the fire evacuation tunnel! Since smoke rises, Madam said that if there’s a tunnel to escape from the factory underground, workers could safely evacuate even if the factory caught fire! The situation now is as dangerous as a fire, so we escaped through this tunnel! The tunnel exit is… here!”

They found and showed me an iron door marked “No Entry During Normal Operation” among the bushes. At least infiltration seemed possible.

“Is the tunnel straight? If there’s no chance of getting lost, lead the way. I’m the only one with a gun, and those guys might have labeled you as traitors for leaving.”

“Ah, the path is straight! And would those guys who can’t even remember factory workers’ faces do that? They don’t even know how to get friendly with people…”

Ignoring their exaggerated tongue-clicking to show disapproval, I drew my pistol and led the way through the iron door. The tunnel was well-lit with electricity. We moved through quickly.

“Where does the other end of the tunnel lead? I mean, I don’t want to suddenly pop out in a crowded area.”

The kobold, familiar with tunnels and passages, spoke without making the sniffing sounds he usually made in places full of fresh air.

“It connects to the workers’ break room. Our break room is quite deep inside, and when there was a fire before, most of the people who died were there. After that, Madam had this evacuation route built!”

The dwarf added. Both seemed twice as energetic in this tunnel.

“And now it’s being used by workers who are lukewarm about the strike. It’s not that spacious, and it’s the farthest from the factory manager’s office where those hardline traitors are.”

Hearing this, I gave a mocking laugh to the Idealist from the Hive Mind who was following at the back of our group, looking after everyone. He just turned his gaze away.

Soon we reached the end of the tunnel. The dwarf, who awkwardly took off his formal jacket saying he would handle this, flung open the door connecting to the employee break room. He waved his hands widely as if announcing who had arrived.

“Willy and Tolly are back, people! We couldn’t bring anyone impressive, but we did manage to bring two people from the Industrial Workers’ Union!”

After sending those two ahead, I hid the pistol inside a hollowed-out God-President’s scripture and slipped through the fire door.

About a dozen workers were gathered in the break room, which was about the size of my apartment, and voices could be heard from the corridor beyond the open door. Obviously, it was too small for all those people.

I handed out business cards with fake phone numbers and fake names to each of them. I also shook their hands like real labor activists would.

“I’m Peter Weinberg. I’m from the New York branch, and I’ve been ordered to check if our union can support the strike happening here. Do you know where the union leader is?”

I already knew the answer. I just wanted to show this Idealist terminal how real workers talk.

A dwarf with a long braided beard clicked his tongue in disgust.

“Tsk… He’ll be in the factory manager’s office. Whether he wants to own the factory or do something for us, I don’t know, but you’ll see when you get there.”

The Idealist terminal looked shocked. Apparently, he didn’t know that regardless of their lofty ideals, they had to keep both feet in the gutter.