Ch.184Work Record #027 – Eve’s Escape (3)

It would take two and a half hours to return to Los Angeles, but it only took about three minutes to leave the villa where Pastor Bill Weaver had lived.

Those three minutes weren’t the time it took for the vehicle to depart, but rather the time of psychological disconnection. Kay handed the hologram projector containing Pastor Bill Weaver’s consciousness back to Eve.

When Eve turned on the hologram projector she had been quietly fiddling with, a slightly shaky hologram appeared due to being inside the moving vehicle. It was the hologram of a man with a kindly appearance.

Everyone was rolling their eyes trying to find something to say when 42% of Pastor Bill Weaver quietly spoke up. His voice was rather light, though the content of his words was not.

“I know what you’re going to say. Yes, it’s true. I’m the man who created the greatest misfortune on this continent, Hollowed Creek. Or more precisely, a copy of him.”

He was the type of person who acknowledged things calmly. Looking around through the hologram, then surveying the surroundings through the small camera attached to the projector, he continued.

“I was… weak rather than evil. I never expected the religious community of Hollowed Creek to grow so large, nor was I the kind of person who could handle such an expanded organization.”

Photos appeared through the hologram projector. They were monochrome holograms with low resolution, but they showed what looked like building wooden houses in a wasteland right after that war.

“Hollowed Creek was… just a small religious community. We wanted to be a peaceful religious community settled in a remote place instead of in cities dominated by war propaganda and daily survival fears.”

That house would now be treated as a relic, enclosed in a glass cage. While I couldn’t believe everything he said, judging by how they treated the cult leader, it seemed believable.

“Huh, but… I never expected so many people to gather. Support came from all sectors, and the original plan to build just one village had to be… postponed for several years. We built all sorts of things.”

An emotion that might have been nostalgia or fear bloomed on Pastor Bill Weaver’s face. Did he properly remember those times? Perhaps his hesitation in speaking came from not remembering clearly.

“Honestly, it might have been overwhelming for a pastor who just had some initiative and had done a few house-building volunteer projects. Starting with the fact that the community was becoming too large.”

He slowly took a deep breath. Facing his failure. Until this moment, his tone had been confusingly between nostalgic and not, but what followed was definitely not nostalgic at all.

“That’s when John approached me. John Rutherford. He was… one of many entrepreneurs who had invested in Hollowed Creek. I didn’t know why at first, but after Belwether bought Los Angeles…”

He probably wanted to use Hollowed Creek as a prototype. A city beyond the reach of the federal government. Perhaps it was an attempt to use a city with autonomy as a means to undermine federal power.

“Mr. Günter adapted quickly to the post-war era, fueled by hatred. He faced the reality where most land had become wasteland and only surviving cities remained connected like dots.”

The result… was it bad or good? I couldn’t tell. I never really understood the life of nationalists in the first place. At least it wasn’t bad for me.

“No, that’s not important. John told me, who was struggling with such overwhelming work that I even had to skip worship services, that he had experience running organizations larger than this city and would help me.”

What that helping hand became could be seen in today’s Hollowed Creek. Pastor Bill Weaver spoke with a sigh. Shaking his head, he admitted one more thing he hadn’t acknowledged until now.

“I was stupid. I didn’t realize that people want a messiah to lead them, not an ordinary person to endure hardships with. John knew that very well. So… this is what happened.”

Now I understood why Pastor Bill Weaver had tried to rescue Eve from her regret. It was because he had been living in regretful exile in that villa, banished from the very city he had built.

The only way he could resist the flow of Hollowed Creek, which he could no longer stop, was to help escapees who reached his villa. He would understand the feeling of living a life full of regret.

Pastor Bill Weaver, who regretted that what he had built in his life had hurt so many people, couldn’t bear the fact that even his death had caused someone pain and regret.

Even so, it was hard to understand how he could give his all for someone who had killed him. I had hated Walter so much that if I flipped that hatred, it would become love for Eve.

The camera on the hologram projector slowly rotated first, and only then did the hologram move to look at Eve. The fake form made of light gently patted Eve’s shoulder.

“That’s why I’m happier about your escape, my last Eve. I’m truly sorry for speaking so harshly… I thought the only way for you to escape was to hate and dislike me. This time too…”

Eve bit her lower lip firmly while receiving the pat. Slowly, she exhaled a breath drawn not from her lungs but from deep within her heart. She shook her head.

“Don’t say that, Bill. I’ve regretted things so much because of my own stupidity and weakness that I gave up and threw myself into mercenary work, so I don’t want to hear that word anymore. I’ll get used to it, but not now.”

Again the camera moved slowly. He now looked at me, and only then did the hologram turn its head toward me, as if reloading its surface. He applauded me.

“Yes, now is a time to rejoice. You fulfilled your promise. You’ve turned Eve, named by the cult leader, into the real Eve that the Lord created and Adam named. Do you enjoy working miracles?”

It’s a question I hear countless times. After letting out a small laugh at the sight of even a person who had died and come back to life talking about miracles, I nodded. One way or another, I could fully enjoy this moment.

“It’s very enjoyable indeed. Though I’ve heard that question too many times. Well, you don’t really think I’m going to rain fire and brimstone on Hollowed Creek, do you?”

“Judgment is the Lord’s work, and working miracles is human work. I don’t remember if I asked your name, please tell me. I ask you.”

The first thing that came to mind when the word “god” was mentioned was Mr. Günter. We lived in an era where reality could be censored and truth could be manufactured, and Mr. Günter was someone who could do that very skillfully.

And yet… he was certainly a twisted person. The nuclear flames that announced the beginning of that war had transformed him into a completely different person. I couldn’t tell if this was right or wrong either.

I probably wasn’t that kind of person. Even if Phaethon Station really was a strategic weapon from that war era, I wouldn’t rain it down on Hollowed Creek. I still remembered Mr. Günter’s words.

Taking a million lives without saving a hundred righteous people is just being a mass murderer. It’s worthless. So… then, would I do it if all the righteous people of Hollowed Creek escaped? I didn’t know.

If it was a weapon that could burn Hollowed Creek to the ground, like a start code to drive the sun chariot low… would I not use it? I both wanted to use it and didn’t want to. I still couldn’t tell.

There was still too much time left before starting Operation Musical Chairs. I would have to decide before then, but it would probably take a very long time to make that decision. First, I answered his question.

“I’m Arthur Murphy. And you were William Weaver, right?”

“Yes, you remembered well. Good… Actually, if there had been oil, I would have anointed you, but I suppose the only oil in a mercenary van would be lubricant for gun maintenance.”

He also spoke somewhat casually. It was a bit funny coming from someone who had called me a Belwether bioweapon more than once, but I didn’t laugh out loud.

“You wouldn’t have reason to do that for someone who wouldn’t understand what it means anyway. I’m Los Angeles’ returned child. How would I know anything about religion?”

Belwether… used religious principles but didn’t use religion itself. The efficiency zealots were almost religious in their fervor, but I had never seen anything like religious gatherings within the company.

I was learning bit by bit how Mr. Günter had built his empire called Belwether. As my view of the world broadened, things I already knew became unknown, and then became known again. It was a pleasant repetition.

Pastor Bill Weaver’s hologram looked at me, and while it seemed like he was looking at my face, it was actually the camera on the projector that was recognizing me as he leisurely began to speak.

“Whether the person who learns, strives to understand, and acts is better than the person who acts without knowing… I’ll reserve judgment. Either way, they’re both good enough people in that they act.”

Sometimes both choices can be correct, and sometimes both can be wrong. Most of the time, it was the latter. There were far too many instances where one had to choose the less wrong answer among wrong answers.

Pastor Bill Weaver was a thoughtful person. For someone who called himself an ordinary local pastor, his words had the power to move people’s hearts. However, his words didn’t make people ecstatic.

In other words… they worked differently from slogans like “For the company, the temple, and the shareholders!” or the many catchphrases used instead of greetings. Perhaps there was more that could be done with eloquence than I thought.

We arrive in Los Angeles. The cult leader’s hologram and consciousness temporarily went to Eve’s hideout, but he would need to organize his thoughts alone until tomorrow. The night shift work starts tonight and ends tomorrow morning.

That wasn’t the whole reason. Arthur-2 got off at the Night Watch office instead of the same place as me, and Eve got off at the same place as me instead of the ruins. There were 8 hours left until work time.

Whatever I planned to do, there was something I needed to do first. I disposed of the combat uniform I had worn. As soon as I got home, I stripped off even the paint I had used to recolor my gun. We couldn’t let anyone know we had gone there.

Right now, the cult leader had no evidence. There was testimony, but it was just a conversation with an AI he had created himself. It had no value as evidence. We needed to eliminate any evidence.

It wasn’t something that needed to be handled so meticulously, nor would it take that long, nor was it that difficult. Those thoughts were just to divert attention.

Honestly, I don’t even remember what I ate for lunch. I probably just ate whatever was at hand. We barely conversed, and Eve would occasionally blush for no reason.

In fact, I wasn’t in much better shape. After filling our stomachs, we naturally found ourselves sitting on my bed in the bedroom. Eve was the one who broke the long silence.

“Do you remember the night before we first went to meet Pastor Bill Weaver, Arthur? Honestly… it wouldn’t have been strange if we had done it right then. I was crazy. Taking you with me saying I couldn’t sleep without you. Right?”

“Fortunately, I had self-control. If we had done it then… the atmosphere wouldn’t be like today. It would have overlapped. Maybe not, but that’s what I thought. Really.”

Usually, Eve wouldn’t make eye contact when her face was flushed, but today alone, with her ears and cheeks all heated up, she met my gaze, smiled… and tapped the tip of my nose.

“You said that last time too, Arthur, you bundle of responsibility to the point of being irresponsible. But… yes, you’re right. If we had done it that day, the atmosphere wouldn’t be like this. It would have overlapped. I won’t tell you to speak nicely this time.”

“You’re the one who cut off the hands that were grabbing your ankles at the wrist, Eve. You made a perfect declaration of severance even though it was obvious the self-proclaimed cult leader was listening, didn’t you?”

Eve naturally straddled my thighs and placed both her prosthetic hands on my cheeks. Her leisurely, soft voice reached me.

“Are you still angry, Arthur? I feel like this sense of freedom is enough for me, but are you still angry? That’s okay too. Just tell me honestly.”

“Of course I am. Naturally. Being mentally completely liberated is one thing, but the fact that the person who ruined the life of someone I love, a human, not a god, just an ordinary human, is still alive feels different.”

When I was with Prometheus, the word “human” was good, right, and something to aspire to. Now it means something different. The exact opposite. It’s a word that tears down, destroys, and shatters.

Eve’s hands covered my eyes, and I heard her whisper “Scary eyes” again, but this time it wasn’t to restrain me. Rather, she extended that line of thought.

“Then… if something happens to the chairman of Hollowed Creek Inc., is the reason me, or is it the many suffering people of Hollowed Creek?”

“The reason is definitely you, Eve. Still, I’ll sincerely rejoice in the liberation of the many suffering people of Hollowed Creek.”

Both were sincere. My cause is very personal. It’s for my own pleasure, and for the person who makes it possible for me to enjoy life.

Still, I will choose the best method possible to achieve that. I will choose the option with the least evil possible to achieve that. That’s who I am.

Eve’s laughter quietly resonated as she hugged my neck and buried her face in my shoulder. I could faintly feel her voice vibrating through my skin.

“I don’t know whether to call this selfish or altruistic… I’ll just say it’s like you, Arthur. But you’ve agreed to set aside your anger for now, right? You said yourself that pleasure makes people human.”

Outside, the sunlight beating down on the smoggy air made the temperature close to 26 degrees Celsius despite it being late January. The city that brilliantly covers the darkness of night with its own light becomes quiet and loses its vitality during the day.

It didn’t matter. Words about what the city is like, what hatred is like, what the madness of that war is like become very superficial in this moment, and all those meanings lose their unique sparkle in the face of enjoyment.

In that humid midday, I embraced Eve for the first time.