Ch.253016 Investigation Record – Double Compensation (3)

“I’ll have to be vague about the details of the procedure even if you explain them thoroughly! I just want to publish something saying that the procedures are progressing smoothly without major issues, so people can be free from anxiety.”

I concealed my true purpose. Discussing the twenty terminals in front of this angel would only reveal my distrust, not verify anything. The angel smiled comfortably.

“Ah, the transfer of terminal control is progressing well in sequence. In about a week, there won’t be even hundreds of terminals left in New York controlled by those Idealist commie bastards. And until then, we angels are spreading our arms and wings wide to protect everything, so there’s nothing to worry about. There haven’t been any intruders at all. If that’s what you wanted to hear, you should have said so earlier.”

She seemed slightly bothered that she had been vague about her duties, but it was obvious she relaxed when I said I just wanted to reassure people.

Normally, a request to identify a truck driver would be refused, but not in this situation. Sometimes when there’s something that needs to be done directly, you have to take a roundabout approach.

That’s why I’m taking this detour to finally reach my destination. After writing down what she said, I asked very naturally:

“Would it be possible to meet that truck driver as well? The more interviews with relevant people, the better, right? And you know what people like, don’t you?”

I flattered her naturally. She seemed quite satisfied, answering with a smile spreading across her face.

“Of course I know. Saying that police officers and blue-collar workers are firmly supporting society on their backs should be enough. That truck driver… Ah, please wait a moment.”

This cordial conversation was only temporary. I wasn’t trying to report just her, but I would write a word or two about the chronic complacency of the angel police. After that, I wouldn’t receive such friendly looks.

But not everyone reacts with disgust to such words. There’s always at least one person. Always at least one. Like an elf who tried to leave the Followers of the Forest’s Firstborn, or an orc who could persuade those spewing hatred in front of that elf’s house through conversation… everyone has at least one person they can communicate with. Finding that one person was enough.

The officer soon returned with an elvish coffee and a contact number, handing them to me. It felt like I was receiving more kindness than I had given, but she put one hand in her uniform pocket and waved the other.

“I shouldn’t really be giving you this… but you know how it is, right?”

I felt a strange sense of guilt crawling up my spine. I wouldn’t dismiss it as just a feeling. Not knowing what expression to make, I nodded awkwardly with a smile.

“Since they’re a civilian contractor, if anyone asks how you found out, just make something up. Or, well, say a nice officer told you. Internal Affairs doesn’t tap phones. Probably.”

Her nonchalant attitude made me feel less awkward. I warmed my hands with the hot elvish coffee and left the police station with the company address and contact information.

I collected the Industrial Spirit who was sitting dejectedly in the parking lot. Though it was brief for me, it clearly wasn’t for the spirit. As I approached, the grinding noise started again, but it seemed somehow happy.

“You’re back. That didn’t take long. I’m curious about what kind of people angels are. Can you tell me? The Machine of the Age told me. My main duty is to protect, but my secondary duty is to gather information. Secondary duties aren’t as important as primary ones. But this place seems safe. I’m not sure if angels are that diligent, but they are strong, aren’t they?”

This Industrial Spirit seemed more curious than other Industrial Spirits. While Industrial Spirits are typically childlike and cheerful as a reaction to repetitive factory life, this one seemed to be that way by nature.

I wonder why the King of Industrial Spirits created and sent such a spirit? I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to learn about people or the world, but I decided to tell it about people.

Since that was my area of expertise, though calling it that might be laughable, I could tell it quite a lot. It would be better to leave knowledge about the world to Paulina.

When I showed the note I received with the coffee cup to the Industrial Spirit, the grinder in its head started rotating again. The distinctive, spine-chilling sound of grinding metal forced me to cover my ears.

It was a sound too harsh for an elf’s sensitive hearing. The Industrial Spirit looked up at me with an expression that seemed both anxious and somewhat apologetic.

“I’m sorry. When I think, this sound comes out… Anyway, it’s a place on the body of the Machine of the Age. I can find it. I’ll be quiet while we go there. Can you tell me about it?”

Looking at it this way, it somehow resembled a large metal dog with a grinder for a head. Well, no—the moment its head is a grinder, it’s not ordinary at all, is it? Anyway, it looked like a large metal dog. I patted its back again.

Seeing a large dog looking dejected wasn’t a pleasant sight. I smiled as I followed the Industrial Spirit, which had started walking half a step ahead of me.

“From what you’re saying, you know at least one thing! That elves have sensitive senses. Elves have strong senses, and angels have strong bodies. The God-President himself molded them and gave them strong right hands made of gold. They generally move only for their purpose, so they tend to be blunt and rigid.”

The Industrial Spirit enjoyed my story. Then it spoke while running its grinder at low speed. My ear tips still twitched a bit, but this time it wasn’t enough to cause a headache.

“But you received that… liquid-fuel from inside there and came out. Plus, you were conscious of their gaze when you went in. I know my comrades and brothers. I know machines that weren’t given life by the Machine of the Age. We only have inputs and outputs. But those angels aren’t like that, are they?”

This Industrial Spirit seemed to want to understand people. I was becoming more convinced that when the King of Industrial Spirits said to “find out,” he meant about people, not the world.

I crouched in front of the spirit and showed the coffee cup under its head, or where such a thing should be. Though it behaved like a dog, I wasn’t sure if it could actually smell.

The small Industrial Spirit tilted its body as if analyzing the coffee, then straightened up again. It had reached its own conclusion.

“It’s inefficient as fuel. It would be more superior as fuel to just consume the sweet things inside.”

The response was somehow deflating, but I stood up again and patted its back once more. It didn’t tense up when my hand approached its body. It simply didn’t understand the meaning.

“There are some things you can’t feel, you see. Hmm, for example, taste. Everyone has tastes they like, and I… do I like coffee? Well, I don’t dislike it that much! And elvish coffee with plenty of milk is made to be enjoyable even for elves’ sensitive senses. Do you understand what I mean?”

The Industrial Spirit continued to show complete incomprehension. Its thorough lack of understanding reminded me of someone, but that person refused to understand, while this one was incapable of understanding.

“Senses are for detecting stimuli, not for being satisfied. It’s irrational. I think it’s a useless activity.”

I burst out laughing at that. It was certainly an immature spirit in its shallow belief in reason alone. I couldn’t help but think of The Reasonable Insight magazine.

There were good journalists I had collaborated with, but the first thing I remembered about The Reasonable Insight was how they had mocked the Cowboy’s death. It still made me sick to think about it.

But even that journalist from The Reasonable Insight eventually apologized. People can change, and this spirit with human-like qualities could too.

“Then why do senses detect stimuli?”

“To avoid danger. Surviving by avoiding danger is good. Getting caught off guard and suffering is bad. That’s all.”

It had just given me the perfect opening. With a somewhat smug expression, I smiled brightly. Was I being smug? I didn’t speak like Michael, at least.

“Isn’t this coffee something that wakes you up and makes you alert? Just one cup makes a person wide awake. It turns a nodding, drowsy person into someone with alert eyes. That naturally makes your senses more sensitive, so you can avoid danger better. You just come to like what’s good for you. Does that make more sense?”

As I said this, I patted the Industrial Spirit’s back a few more times. It was still leading me to the industrial zone—a place that had found some vitality through the power of the King of Industrial Spirits.

The small Industrial Spirit was quite stubborn. And in that way, it seemed quite human-like, though it didn’t think of itself that way, which made me want to laugh.

Perhaps the King of Industrial Spirits… had called this child to prevent things from becoming too dark and complicated? The Industrial Spirit stubbornly said:

“Still, you’d like it even if tasteless water was made to taste that way. You could be deceived. So it’s still irrational behavior.”

I had something to say about this too. This time I folded my arms and smiled. Maybe I was being a bit smug this time.

“Then, is it rational to ignore average results because of some abnormal values?”

It felt like I was looking at someone incredibly smart but still childlike. The Industrial Spirit spun its grinder in dissatisfaction, then soon made a more subdued sound and said:

“That’s irrational. You always seem to have an answer… We’ve arrived. This is the transport company. It’s bigger than I thought. It’ll be easier to get in if I’m with you here. People in the industrial district like the Machine of the Age. They like Industrial Spirits too, and they’ll like me even more since I look like I was made directly by the Machine of the Age.”

The spirit seemed flustered by its own statement about people “liking” something, and tried to come up with its own explanation while spinning its grinder. It was cute.

“The Machine of the Age has absolute influence in this factory area. So they know that if they dislike something related to the King of Industrial Spirits, that influence might turn against them. It’s an inductive judgment.”

As if knowing what I was about to say, the Industrial Spirit spun its grinder in dissatisfaction. The sound made a security guard from the transport company with a large parking lot walk out.

He seemed to be seeing this kind of Industrial Spirit for the first time too. Looking at it with curiosity, he then looked up at me who was talking with the Industrial Spirit, and scanned me with his eyes.

“You look like a reporter. Has the King of Industrial Spirits assigned another interview to someone? These days he seems to like reporters more than us. He calls reporters a couple of times a month.”

He clicked his tongue a bit in dissatisfaction but eventually shook his head as if thinking “whatever works.” As the small Industrial Spirit had said, the name of the King of Industrial Spirits carried absolute weight.

“Fine, fine. At least he stopped talking about the end times after calling reporters. I’ve seen reporters walking around with spirits like this a few times before. Are you just passing by? Or is there something you want to cover about our company? We haven’t been going around bragging about handling that… Did the spirit tell you?”

“Let’s just say I have some good sources! Yes, I’m here to cover that. I’d like to meet the driver who does that job. Since this is such a big transport company, I assume that driver is out working now?”

The security guard shook his head. It seemed like the people working on this job—involving the King of Industrial Spirits, New York City, and… well, too many entangled things for one company to handle—were receiving some kind of special treatment.

“He’s resting inside. Acting like some kind of nobility, lounging in the back… you’ll spot him right away when you go in. Take that thing with you. Everyone in the factory district knows that a metal spirit like that is a handmade creation of the King of Industrial Spirits. If you want to avoid cursing back and forth, you should establish dominance from the start. Right?”

He wasn’t a polite person, but he was friendly enough. After thanking him, I entered the company with the small Industrial Spirit. We headed toward a crude building attached to the back of the parking lot.

Laughter could be heard from inside. There was no smell of alcohol yet. If they employed people who drank at this hour, I would have been the one calling it irrational, not the Industrial Spirit.

The dog-sized Industrial Spirit lightly rose toward the break room door and hooked the doorknob with its feet, which had shock absorbers good for gripping the ground. It entered the break room first, making grinding noises quite boldly.

After the people inside quieted down a bit, I followed the spirit in. They seemed curious about why the King of Industrial Spirits, who was also their employer, had sent a spirit, and they also seemed a bit tense.

“Ah, I’m Rose Leafman, a reporter from Golden Age Press! The King of Industrial Spirits requested coverage. He wants an article about the transfer of terminal control…”

Most of them had ordinary appearances. Nothing special about them, except perhaps the darker marks on one arm compared to the other from long hours of driving—their only distinguishing feature.

They looked like the kind of people who would say “I’m just a driver” if asked to do anything other than driving, but they also looked like people you could trust with driving.

The man who had tensed up first when the Industrial Spirit entered quickly relaxed his expression and approached me. He wasn’t completely relaxed yet. It was bravado. When he came close, I could hear his heartbeat.

It was beating fast. Even when he offered a handshake, I could feel sweat on his palm. He must have wiped his hand once on the way over, but since his nervousness hadn’t disappeared, his hand was still damp. He spoke cheerfully:

“I don’t know why the King of Industrial Spirits keeps asking for such articles, but we’re available for interviews anytime. What do you want to hear? That everything is going according to the King of Industrial Spirits’ plan?”

He seemed to be trying to narrow down what I could think about by making assumptions in advance. Looking back at his colleagues for agreement made it obvious.

He was making it too obvious that he was hiding something. Still, at least he was following the right path. Is this outside the body of the King of Industrial Spirits? If it were on his body, he would have known everything first.