Ch.230Request Log #018 – The Ghost Wandering New York (6)

“I need to check on the factory district because there’s been a series of disappearances happening there. I wanted to ask if the Industrial Spirit King knows anything about it! And I also just wanted to see you!”

The massive wall of machinery now began to look at me. The structure that seemed like an entire factory spread across a single wall started to move. Cylinders hissed as they released steam.

Something detached from the center of that wall. From a height that would have shattered any precise industrial machine if it malfunctioned, something with the appearance of a four-legged animal with an overdeveloped upper body dropped down.

There was no sound of impact. After landing with remarkable softness, it began climbing the stairs. Unlike the industrial spirits made of concrete, this one was entirely metal from head to toe.

Small pincers began moving back and forth where a face should be, adjusting lenses. The structure inside appeared to be like a camera, and I could faintly see our reflections within. It was watching us.

If it had been made of ordinary steel or adamantine steel, it wouldn’t have been able to walk, and judging by the blue luster on its surface, it was likely made of mythril steel. Quite a magnificent manifestation.

The structure was surreal. It looked as if machines had been stuffed into places where the corresponding organs of a living being should be.

Yet all those machines seemed to have the right to function like living organs in their places. It was an unpleasant divinity that could almost give one hives.

I could see hydraulic cylinders moving inside its body, contracting and relaxing like muscles. The fluid inside was transparent. Perhaps it was moving with the blood of a god.

Walking majestically like a lion, it stood before us. Adjusting the magnification of its lenses, it looked at me standing in front of it. Among the three of us, I was the only one the Industrial Spirit King didn’t know.

Does it really not know me? I had quite a history of poking around this place. How much it knew would reveal how much I could trust the Industrial Spirit King.

It opened what served as its mouth, or rather the part imitating one, and spoke. It was the sound of creative inspiration. The sound of factories running and spewing smoke, the sound of an era lighting fires fueled by hope.

“I’ve seen you snooping around my body several times. I remember you. Just as that little elf isn’t a demon’s secretary, I suppose you’re not a demon’s bodyguard either. Identify yourself.”

I took a business card from my wallet and tossed it to him. A small mechanical pincer designed for precision work caught the card. The tip of the pincer that had been moving the lenses flattened to avoid puncturing the card as it brought it before its face.

Though made of metal and powered mechanically, it was as diverse as a living being. After reading my card, it pronounced my name slowly as if trying to memorize it.

“Michael Husband… A detective. Are you a detective looking for missing persons? Regarding missing persons…”

“Don’t try to deduce things, Your Lordship Spirit King. That’s a detective’s job. It may be called a kidnapping case, but it’s actually a case of one of your contractors trying to steal magic from the Idealists. When was the last time your contractors used magic through your body? Wasn’t it yesterday dawn?”

It slowly contracted its body. The smell of ozone began to gather, and then a hot wind mixed with mana swept over us. Not just us. It was probably sweeping through the entire factory district.

The Industrial Spirit King seemed willingly trying to find traces of magic for us. It had been a while since I’d met such a helpful informant. Everything was going suspiciously well. Was there something more to this?

After the flow of mana had swept across its entire body, its mechanical manifestation shook its head before me. The lenses that had been shaken by the head movement readjusted, and it looked at me properly as it spoke.

“No, it was last week. It was quite a routine activity. I used my power to repave roads that were in poor condition from heavy vehicles passing through. Yesterday dawn, you say. Why did you think it was yesterday dawn, Michael?”

“Because I heard that someone attacked the Idealists yesterday dawn to steal their magic and used that magic to turn people into terminals. Don’t you have human contractors?”

Heat escaped from its body like a sigh. Its voice sounded somewhat sorrowful, but being a machine without expressions, I couldn’t tell if it was lying.

“I have one. Or rather, I had one. About ten days ago, he was found murdered at home along with his children and wife. A dead person can’t rise and attack the Idealists.”

Like a blood clot growing into a living being, printing press components began to protrude one by one from that massive machine wall and started to assemble themselves. The completed rotary press began spewing documents.

It seemed to be pouring out any documents that could serve as evidence of the human contractor’s death—a death certificate, newspaper obituaries, advertisements for recruiting a new person to contract with the Industrial Spirit King… I didn’t question how a rotary press could print such different documents.

Though they were copies, all followed the format of official documents. I handed the obituary with a photo to the reporter. She examined the photo, then looked at the date on the obituary and spoke to the Industrial Spirit King’s manifestation.

“Oh, Spirit King. Could you copy the Golden Age Press newspaper from this date? There was probably an article in the Golden Age Press too!”

This was the simplest way to verify. I gave a slight smile to the reporter who looked confident that she was being helpful. I received the newspaper pouring out from the rotary press and handed it to her.

If she had only been looking for the obituary, she would have checked just the last page, but to confirm this was truly the Golden Age Press from that day, she slowly scanned from the first page. Only after being certain did she open the last page.

She showed me the obituary with the same photo that the Industrial Spirit King had provided.

“It seems to be accurate information. Unless someone has deceived the Industrial Spirit King and all the New York newspapers… and the death certificate, and well, the whole world!”

If the obituary was accurate, then it wasn’t this man who attacked the Idealists last week, and it certainly wasn’t this man who attacked them yesterday.

The obvious conclusion was that the Idealists had used their terminals to stage an attack on themselves. They know their own magic. They would know how to tear it apart.

This reasoning connected with why they had given me false testimony this morning. They were trying to direct all suspicion toward the Industrial Spirit King. If I hadn’t met him directly, I would have been completely fooled.

They probably didn’t think I would actually go meet the Spirit King. It felt like a compass that had been wavering had finally found its direction. Or perhaps it was being drawn to a magnet.

The Industrial Spirit King had taken a liking to the reporter and had been telling the truth from the beginning. But the same was true of the Idealists. There was no need for excessive trust.

“Do you believe me now, Michael? If it wasn’t my contractors, then it would have been me, but why would I have reason to steal their fragile control? I… I can’t focus on anything except sharing with you the endless visions of doom that keep arising. They’re so vivid. I can feel my heart bursting, but as the little elf told me, I’m trying to tell people about it.”

It must be the doomsday story that the doomsayers talked about, but it wasn’t particularly relevant now. The attitude of wanting to share one’s mental illness with others was quite sincere and idealistic in this city.

The problem was how many people were left who would understand that mental illness. The reporter was someone who understood, so the Industrial Spirit King was quite fortunate. With a strange sense of kinship, I threw in a comment.

“Try to avoid becoming obsessed with something. I’ve seen more than a few people who became obsessed with cleanliness or wholeness, or with changing the world and the future, only to ruin things beyond repair.”

The Industrial Spirit King released heat again as if sighing. The weight of its mental burden seemed to have turned into heat, and this time I could feel quite a bit of it. The Temple Master blocked the heat coming toward the reporter but didn’t interfere with mine.

I suppose you think this is nothing after killing Sol Invictus. With nowhere comfortable to look either ahead or behind, the reporter’s face was the only pleasant sight.

“Yes, I know. The people of this city won’t change until blood flows from their own hands… but I’m trying. I’ll try everything.”

Was that so? I hadn’t seen any articles about the Industrial Spirit King. Though I checked newspapers frequently… I suppose they were small enough articles that I didn’t notice.

From the newspapers’ perspective, there was no reason to put stories about an Industrial Spirit King preaching doomsday on the front page. Even though it was suffering from a painless serious illness, this era was clearly a golden age.

Putting doomsday theories on the front page was something for an age worried about the world ending, not for a golden age. Well, though somewhat caustic, it would be seen as an attempt to ruin the mood.

I had no reason to pay any more attention to the Industrial Spirit King. What was important now was going to punish the Idealists, who were probably the culprits in this case.

The principle was always the same. Cooperate willingly. And punish betrayal. This simple principle was like scripture to me. Having confirmed what I needed, there was no reason to stay longer.

“I’ve confirmed everything I needed to. Thanks for the information. I have a rule of giving 10% of the fee to informants, and that applies to everyone. Can you receive mail?”

The machine laughed so hard it creaked. It must be the first… no, the second time it had met someone who treated it like a person. The reporter was such a person too.

“I am curious what the angel guards would think if they saw an envelope containing cash, Michael. Of course. Thanks to the little elf, I’ve been using mail a lot to contact reporters, so there won’t be any need for internal inspection. Farewell. See you again soon.”

The Industrial Spirit King’s manifestation approached the reporter and gently rubbed its metallic exterior against her hand. The massive beast was leaning on the tiny elf.

“If it weren’t for you, I would have collapsed on my own, little elf. Thanks to you, I’ve been able to contemplate. If only everyone could contemplate like me, if they could quietly bow their heads and think…”

“I’m satisfied if even one more person thinks about it! I think it’s a good change. If people change one by one, maybe everyone can change?”

That seemed to conclude their farewell, but the reporter asked another frivolous question.

“By the way, why do you call Michael by his name but only call me ‘little elf’? Please call me Rose too!”

The Industrial Spirit King shook its head. Still lightly leaning on her hand, it raised its lens eyes to meet her gaze.

“I need to call you ‘little elf’ so I can remember how such a small elf brought such a big change to me. I’ll remember you forever.”

The reporter’s expression brightened to a degree I’d never seen before. No, I think she had such an expression when I first met her… but now she was just as happy but with added gravity.

Though a bright color showed briefly, today’s story wasn’t so bright. Rather, it was the opposite. It was a story of a clumsy plan falling apart clumsily. A common tale.

Leaving the concrete temple housing the machinery of the era, I drove away from the factory district with the Temple Master and the reporter. Looking ahead, I spoke.

“I’ll properly pay for borrowing the suit. Can you take the reporter back yourself? I, as you know, have people to meet.”

“First of all, there’s no need to pay for borrowing it. You can keep it. A suit is far too little payment for meeting the God-Slayer of the 20th Century. And yes, I’d be happy to do that much.”

I regret not bringing Sol Invictus’s gladius. I could have turned around and pierced between his collarbones. Still, the suit was high quality, and he was a demon who willingly granted favors.

“Is it impossible for you not to say ‘God-Slayer of the 20th Century’ at the end of every sentence? Everything else is perfect.”

“It’s a matter of courtesy for me. If you wish, I’ll try to omit it, Detective.”

It was awkward to hear the Temple Master speak in such a polite manner, but this was much better. On the way to the Temple, I even felt a bit anxious.

The eyes of the Idealists were everywhere in the city. Especially in the factory district. That’s how they could have kidnapped the missing persons among the terminals without witnesses. Then I might have seen it too.

If they had found out, I needed to deal with them before they moved. I was glad I had bought a rifle that used .30 caliber bullets. With enough magazines, it could be enough to take care of the Idealists alone.

I didn’t plan to go alone. With Blingkerton’s operatives, it would be easier. After receiving the reporter’s worried farewell and telling her we’d have a drink at Pont de Rose when the job was done, I returned home.

I gathered my heavy 16-pound automatic rifle. I inserted and secured the thick magazine, set the selector to safe for now, and made a phone call. It would be better to gather as many people as possible.

This time they must have been waiting properly, as I could hear Blingkerton’s former marksman speaking in a somewhat businesslike voice.

“Yes, this is Senior Detective Margaret Long of Blingkerton National Detective Agency, New York Branch. Who is this?”

“It’s me. It’s been a while since I heard your full name. Anyway, having the reporter write an article seems to have been an overreaction. I visited the Industrial Spirit King thanks to the reporter’s connections… The Idealists were behind it all. The civil servant from the Spirit Management Department who supposedly attacked them had already been murdered, and the Industrial Spirit King wasn’t in a position to care about the situation.”

So this was why things seemed to be resolving too easily. Blingkerton’s marksman no longer thought I would make such claims without evidence.

“So casting the terminal-making spell from a distance… that was the reason. They were trying to test their improved magic. Bring your evidence and guns to Blingkerton. We’ll just review the materials once and head out right away. It would be better to leave immediately, kid. We’ll finally sweep away those commie bastards.”

I packed the automatic rifle along with the papers produced by the Industrial Spirit King and the real newspaper into a duffel bag and headed to the Blingkerton office. Though they were copies, it didn’t take long for them to be recognized as authentic documents.

No, rather, the Blingkerton people didn’t seem to be seriously verifying the materials, excited by the thought of finally finishing off the Idealists who had been their obstacle. People believe what they want to believe.

It was good that I had told the Idealists to gather all the terminals. Heading toward the All-American Idealist Union building with them in separate cars, detectives in trench coats carrying submachine guns—looking more like mercenaries or hired guns than detectives—naturally moved to the back of the building to block other exits.

Traces of being detectives remained, but only traces. Like military dogs released and turned into strays. Others probably saw me the same way.

I took the lead since I was familiar with the Idealists. Even if I hadn’t been, an Argonne Invincible member taking the lead would have been best. The lobby was empty. Even the receptionist had disappeared.

I found the wide staircase for terminals to move in groups and opened the large iron door to head to the basement. I could see the spacious, systematic basement where the terminals would have lived.

It was like a cheap dormitory that could hold hundreds of people. There were beds, but they were just like crude hospital beds with iron frames. And… no one was there.

No one remained on the second basement level either. Just a few beds that had collapsed. Suppressing a strange and ominous feeling, I headed to the final third basement level. I turned on the lights. The darkness brightened.

Only a single terminal remained there. It was the missing person we had been looking for. His head wasn’t shaved, but he had already become an emotionless terminal. He spoke.

It was the voice of countless people, but so uneven that it was difficult to understand.

“So you figured out the lie. But it’s too late to stop the revolution. I knew you were working with those reactionaries. But I’ll forget such betrayal. We have a greater purpose. Those who think as one mind and feel as one will rise up. The uprising will begin. This city will be overturned. Watch carefully, Michael…”