Ch.238The Seventh Entanglement – Variations on a Blind Revolution (8)

The Hive Mind of The Idealists now had to face the biting cold against bare flesh. More precisely, it had no bare flesh at all, and what it faced was stronger than mere cold.

What mattered to the Hive Mind now was preserving itself as much as possible, not fighting to win back everything. Hiding behind the Industrial Spirit King had to end here.

What are they afraid of? The complete upending of the world. It was natural since they couldn’t understand those people just as those people couldn’t understand the Hive Mind.

Since it was better to appear as an individual rather than a collective, one terminal stepped forward ahead of the Industrial Spirit King. It faced what it rightfully had to face.

It had much it wanted to say. It wanted to say that failing to withstand the attack was a sin for which they could be held responsible, and that they had done their best to resolve the situation.

But it had more things it needed to say. The terminal made a slight gesture, and from behind the lead terminal, other terminals began to walk out. More precisely, they were bodies of people whose minds had been consumed.

They were merely flesh from which souls had already departed, but to others’ eyes, they would appear as people. The Hive Mind made them return to the gathered crowd. It seated them and severed the connection.

The Hive Mind’s voice remained emotionless today. It was a voice like many people’s voices aligned in a row.

“Those terminals, once people and individuals, we will return. They are not ours. Though we believe in different things, we share the same thoughts about the value of a human life.”

Was it done to survive? Or was it done as a human duty? The Hive Mind of The Idealists deliberately avoided drawing a conclusion. Either way would be fine. The result wouldn’t change.

It was a much better answer than saying they weren’t responsible because they hadn’t turned these people into terminals. The voices condemning them as inhuman subsided somewhat.

The Hive Mind of The Idealists recalled the goodwill it had felt. It remembered how angels who only caused harm to itself could be so trustworthy to ordinary people.

We must be monsters from someone’s perspective. It recited inwardly. It decided to set aside blind hatred for now. Having hatred was fine, but when it became blind, it tended to ruin things.

The people of this city were learning the same thing. What the old people knew, what they felt and dreamed and thought and believed, had burned in the flames of the Great War, and the young city that remained was gradually maturing.

“Even angels cannot restrain the mind. They cannot restrain thought. But we will cooperate. Even if this wasn’t our revolution, it was a revolution that borrowed our name. They tried to create hell using the name attached to create paradise. If this anger is the driving force, can it be understood?”

Most people gathered there felt an instinctive aversion to the Hive Mind of The Idealists. It was a being that turned people into something other than people. Because it was such a being, it was different.

In fact, the Hive Mind of The Idealists felt the same way. It instinctively felt aversion toward people who willingly lived in this city that turned people into non-human components.

Two people are waving their hands with eyes closed. Their fingertips touch, making them realize there’s a person beyond their closed eyes. Nevertheless, both people withdrew their hands. Because they couldn’t see.

The fact that The Idealists were more reasonable than expected didn’t erase what people had experienced today. Conflict still existed. It wasn’t conflict with The Idealists.

Someone in the crowd shouted. The crowd made it impossible to identify individuals.

“What the Industrial Spirit King said is right, and if those Idealists keep their promise, isn’t that… doing enough? It wasn’t even them who did it, right?”

The words seemed too easy an absolution, and even calling them “Idealists” properly seemed distasteful in the situation. Someone who heard those words shouted back. Again, from within the crowd.

“How many people died because of them? That’s not enough! Who said that? Which bastard is on the same side as those commie bastards, keeping their head down while shit was happening and now taking sides?”

With that clash, the crowd ceased to be a crowd. A man in a striped suit began grabbing the collars of those who might have made those comments, muttering “Was it you? Was it you?”

People generally seemed to agree with one of those two opinions. The Hive Mind of The Idealists’ attempts to calm the situation appeared useless.

“We know that responsibility doesn’t end there even if we hadn’t touched anything at all. But, can’t that responsibility not be determined here? It takes time for responsibility to be established. I’m saying we’ll cooperate fully until then…”

At those words, the man who had been denouncing The Idealists walked out from the crowd. Standing before the Idealist terminal facing the Industrial Spirits, he pointed accusingly at the air.

“How are we supposed to believe that? In our factory, five workers stormed into the factory owner’s office, beating even the secretary with clubs, saying they could become one with the Hive Mind even if they died, before being subdued by an angel! And you’re saying that wasn’t your doing? Answer me!”

So there were others who saw only that a flag was raised, not who raised it, and rushed forward. The Hive Mind wanted to click its tongue, but it didn’t even have a tongue.

Only mind. Only mind that could neither vomit nor shed tears. The Hive Mind spoke again with a voice that seemed about to fade.

“We won’t take the side of such followers. They did it without knowing it wasn’t us, but still… they misunderstood us. We never wanted this violence. All we want is to become one. For everyone to become one, so that with a unified will, everyone can decide the future…”

The attempt to make people understand only backfired. The mind that couldn’t be calmed couldn’t show such signs, and people who had experienced that oneness as a disaster began to become enraged.

“See! These things wanted the same thing after all! And what? They’ve done enough? Aren’t you a commie too?”

The person who had initially believed the Hive Mind of The Idealists now had to struggle to defend themselves.

The Hive Mind is an entity extremely immature as a human. The angels who had been watching from atop the Half-God Party headquarters landed with wings spread, as if not wanting to give the Hive Mind a chance to respond.

They lightly picked up the Hive Mind of The Idealists and its terminal, which was trying to say that the integration it wanted wasn’t like that, and threw it into a police car that had just arrived. Cheers erupted.

But among them were bitter expressions, like raisins embedded in bread. The detective showed no particular expression, but he could see that the reporter beside him was clenching both fists.

Inspector Senoy dispersed the people gathered there. His expression was light, as if an annoying task had been completed.

“Well, however we deal with these commie bastards, the Industrial Spirit King has ended the uprising… Don’t go near the factory area until our angels confirm it’s safe! Other angels are checking, but it seems there’s no problem. Still, the Industrial Spirits will be on edge, so don’t enter the factories to retrieve your belongings.”

No one would want to survive an Idealist riot only to be chewed to death by the Industrial Spirit they employed. People slowly dispersed, and about ten minutes later, only the reporter and the detective remained standing there.

The reporter looked at the detective, who still smelled of gunpowder and blood. She had not yet grown accustomed to the smell of strong ingredients, but her nose had already adapted to the two scents the detective gave off.

“It wasn’t the Hive Mind of The Idealists who did this. Right?”

“No, it wasn’t.”

The detective answered dryly, as if she was asking something irrelevant. The reporter, who had been investigating the case together, knew what the truth was.

The reporter now knew that the culprit had become a largely irrelevant issue. That’s why she continued speaking.

“But it’s not the fault of the people gathered here either, so taking sides carelessly would only backfire. In times like these…”

The reporter had been fighting with the truth until now. There was the truth that her father was actually the Forest’s Firstborn, and the truth that the person people tried to hang in the square as if he were a model Follower of the Forest’s Firstborn was actually one of the few who regretted becoming a follower. Naturally, there were lies on the opposite side.

But this time, there was truth on the opposite side of truth. The Idealists did it. They didn’t even instigate it. But people’s anxiety was also justified.

For people who feared having their necks grabbed and their minds merged, essentially facing death, it was a blunder to say that, no matter how pure the intention, they only wanted everyone to become one.

“What should we do?”

“At the very least, don’t go to people who don’t think badly of The Idealists and ask them to say something. If you do that, Golden Age Press will find it hard to breathe too.”

“I-I know that much! But I’m just asking how people might view this… more objectively.”

The detective put a cigarette in his mouth. He gave a nod to the reporter, as if asking for permission. The reporter had somewhat adapted to the smell of cigarettes he smoked in front of her. She nodded.

Despite the fact that communicating without words was nothing special, the reporter’s ear tips twitched slightly. Even after he exhaled a puff of smoke, the air around the factory area didn’t become any grayer.

“They absolutely can’t see it objectively. From the start, if the word ‘Idealist’ appears hundreds of times in newspapers, half the people will believe The Idealists are the culprits. Can you keep that word out of the newspapers?”

This was now the reporter’s domain. And she had some ideas. She didn’t know if they would work, but at least there was a basis. She had used that one basis to bring down the Followers of the Forest’s Firstborn too.

“Well, I think we need to hear more details about the apocalyptic theory the Industrial Spirit King is talking about. Have you heard why those people did this?”

The detective remembered what the Hive Mind had said while retrieving its last terminal. The reporter’s guess had been spot on.

“Yes. Because of the apocalyptic theory. It seems those guys, as you said, caused a riot for show to reassure the Spirit King. That’s what I heard.”

To avoid talking about The Idealists in this matter, they had to talk about the Industrial Spirit King’s apocalyptic theory.

Last time, he had been overshadowed by Sol Invictus, and even if not, they needed to let people hear the voice of the Industrial Spirit King that had been buried in the atmosphere of this golden age.

That way, they could somehow help The Idealists avoid receiving excessive attention and responsibility. The reporter could tell people the truth according to her own thinking, but she wasn’t sure if it would be effective.

Why am I helping? The reporter asked herself once. There was no particular reason. She just wanted to help, and she thought she probably could. That was the entirety of the reason.

The detective, who had been suspicious of the Industrial Spirit King, didn’t doubt the reporter’s intentions. There was enough of a bond to say that woman was just that kind of woman.

There was also evidence. He had seen her take the side of the Followers of the Forest’s Firstborn even though she had to give up everything she had, saying it wasn’t right, and fighting with President Clichy after throwing away everything she had.

The reporter hadn’t changed much since then. He could believe she would do the same thing now. The detective took out his wallet and rummaged through the business cards he had roughly stuffed inside. He found one with the same name as his and pulled it out.

It was Michael Lanshore’s business card. Friend of the workers, teacher of the streets… and the man who had killed someone the detective had come to kill for no particular reason, someone who actually had a grudge against him.

He was someone who could help the reporter. He wasn’t as powerful as Charles Clichy, but he was a magician who could even create lightning, so he wouldn’t have died in this incident.

The fact that he had sufficient reason to help The Idealists was a negative factor, but nevertheless, he was a connection the reporter needed.

This was the second time he had handed over a business card, after Mrs. Gremory’s. When the detective had given Mrs. Gremory’s card, Charles Clichy had died and the Followers of the Forest’s Firstborn had fallen.

He was someone who could enjoy whatever happened this time. And he could also show this much goodwill to someone in a collaborative relationship. No matter how much the reporter took, she was more trustworthy than Yehoel.

“Michael Lanshore… Who is this person?”

“A person known by names like ‘friend of the workers’ or ‘teacher of the streets.’ You should know at least one person with prestige among workers to make things easier.”

The reporter’s eyes lit up. In fact, she almost ran up and hugged him lightly as she did with Paulina, but thanks to the cigarette smell creating a physical and psychological distance between them, she was able to refrain.

Instead, she smiled with her ear tips still twitching. To the detective, it was quite a clear smile after a long time. The smile she had given that morning when she saw him in a suit was quite unlike her.

“I seem to always get introduced to people to interview and receive so much help… I hope my dependence hasn’t grown too much, Mr. New York?”

The reporter waved the business card at the detective as if to say she would call him by a nickname only she used, since this person was also Michael. The detective let out a hollow laugh.

“A person who can bring an ordinary detective right up to the Industrial Spirit King with connections to the Half-God Party leader is talking about dependence? Your jokes have improved.”

The reporter had quite a range of expressions. The detective could also make natural expressions in everyday life after killing Sol Invictus, but he couldn’t match the reporter who had just been smiling and suddenly put on a blank expression.

“Well… like being able to break through terminals alone and bring the Hive Mind of The Idealists to the Industrial Spirit King, or killing a renegade sun god alone…”

The detective’s eyebrows twitched. He took a deep breath. Instead of snapping, he spoke in a level voice.

He was no longer filled with hatred to the point of bursting out. He was also used to complimentary words causing accidents.

“I wasn’t alone then. Absolutely not. Anyway, if you need anything else, contact the office. It seems like other work will pour in, but I can help once or twice in my personal time.”