Ch.262Work Record No. 037 – Keep Your Feet on the Ground but Fill Your Eyes with Stars (4)

The satisfying evening of drinks naturally led to heading up to the third floor of Eve’s hideout. It was an inevitable decision.

That night, Eve nibbled at me as if she didn’t know that bite marks wouldn’t show on my body. Even when she was exhausted to the point of being limp, she bit down especially hard when I was still full of energy.

The next morning, I slowly rose from bed, looking at Eve who was sleeping with her face buried in my shoulder. Despite my movement, she wasn’t startled, just blinking her eyes open.

“Is it morning already? We should go downstairs and eat something… Ugh. Ow, my waist, just a moment…”

After a pained squeak, she slowly moved her hand from her neck where bite marks remained down to her waist, groaning slightly. I picked her up carefully to avoid putting pressure on her waist and jumped down from the third floor of the villa.

Even though this place allowed me to hold Eve without worrying about others, it was still a crumbling building. I had no desire to keep my Eve in such a place for long.

Instead of using the third-floor bed that we only used when I held her, I laid her down on the regular bed she used for sleeping and supported her back. When she opened her arms asking to be held, I entered her embrace, held her lightly, and then let go.

Though our bodies were slightly apart, Eve pulled my hand to her and began fidgeting with it. She started speaking while playing with it as if enjoying the texture. I had things to discuss, but decided to enjoy this moment of leisure a bit longer.

“This really is a body worthy of being called the Belwether Mountain bioweapon, right, Arthur?”

“Indeed it is.”

After asking that question, Eve rubbed her cheek against my palm. With her cheek pressed enough to squish her flesh slightly, she continued.

“It’s not really like me to ask this but… Have you ever killed someone with these hands? Not holding something, but just with your bare hands. Yeah.”

“Of course I have. It’s not a proud memory, but I’m not ashamed either. No matter the reason, I killed someone, and despite killing someone, there were valid reasons for it.”

Killing with bare hands… to be honest, it wasn’t that rare. Especially for those who weren’t even worth the mercy of a confirmatory shot to the life support system and head with a gun.

But Eve shook her head as if we’d already discussed killing people yesterday. She still had her face buried in my hand. Her cheek was soft and warm.

“I just asked because I couldn’t believe it. Wondering if these hands could kill someone. I mean, I make dying sounds too, but… you know?”

“Are you still feeling the aftereffects? Usually, you’d get up and insist on making breakfast, even reluctantly, but today…”

As I leaned in closer, Eve’s outstretched hand blocked my forehead. I felt I needed to mention once more how cat-like she was.

It seemed like a good time to move on to my business. Eve was helping Hollowwood Creek escapees connect to other cities.

She was helping them avoid making the same choices she had made, helping them get a better start than she did. Should I exploit even that? If I had to, I could do it without hesitation.

These brokers were the worst enemies Hollowwood Creek could have. They made escape seem possible, even simple.

But forcibly dealing with them would be… Hollowwood Creek’s inquisitors weren’t that strong. With Belwether assault training, I could handle three or four of them alone.

I could hunt down several inquisitors by myself too. If I took cover in the wasteland and repeatedly blasted their bodies with Hubris before relocating, I could handle even more.

In short, helping my Eve with her broker work would provide me with the simplest and safest channel to contact the frontline inquisitors of Hollowwood Creek.

I would observe them up close. Learn what kind of beings they were, what they thought, what they wanted. Whether they were simple fanatics or just people living under the same dictatorship.

Even if it was the latter, I had no intention of forgiving them. If they were simply the latter, I could use simpler methods. I could leave the comforting voice of Pastor Bill where they could receive it.

If they felt healed, comforted, and realized they didn’t belong in Hollowwood Creek… I could find new uses for them.

If they were simple fanatics, they would aim above the inquisitors. I would summon the leader’s Eves, not my Eve, and stake them near Hollowwood Creek.

Religion changes people in two ways: by comforting and embracing in the name of love, or by frightening and inspiring awe.

If that powerful leader could do nothing but watch his lover die, then I would spread a god from the book more powerful than that leader.

I didn’t believe in God, but I believed in the power of religion. I believed in Pastor Bill Weber’s old faith that survived even through the storm of war until he gave up. So I would gladly use it.

“I’m joking, just joking. What I was actually going to say was… Ah, right. I’d like to help with assisting Creek escapees, even in my spare time. It’s related to the surprise gift I’m preparing for Hollowwood Creek…”

“You’re not just trying to help me one-sidedly?”

“That’s what I mean. Does it sound too much like an excuse?”

Eve looked at me with a slightly perplexed expression, but eventually shook her head. They definitely needed military power.

While I was far from being worthy of being called the power of death, I had enough ability to be considered sufficient military power for Hollowwood Creek escapees.

“No, not at all. It’s really necessary help… I don’t know what that surprise gift you’re preparing is, but if it’s related to helping people… I’m assuming you’re not planning to plant a nuclear warhead at Hollowwood Creek headquarters.”

Since she said it was truly necessary, I naturally decided to ask for the information I needed. Was I deceiving Eve? White lies for surprise gifts don’t count as real lies.

“Then… could you tell me how the inquisitors interfere with Hollowwood Creek escapees? That seems like the problem I could solve most easily.”

“They do it in all sorts of ways. The biggest issue is… the markers that Hollowwood Creek escapees set up in the wasteland. They prepare supplies for people escaping on foot through the wasteland where cars can’t easily enter…”

Eve pushed a photo into my virtual screen. It showed the traces of a terrible explosion. The reddish-black bloodstains of a person on the wasteland.

“When inquisitors find the location, they immediately set up booby traps. Even if not that, they take all the contents and leave only the leader’s scripture. It might not seem like much, but breaking people’s will is the issue.”

Isn’t leaving only the leader’s scripture strange if they want to break people’s will? If someone expected to find supplies but found only scriptures written by the leader, they would feel anger rather than hope.

If he truly wanted to break their will, he should destroy that drop box and prepare twice as many supplies and provisions in the name of Hollowwood Creek.

People live on bread, not so-called divine words. Bread is always what matters. Even from Creek’s perspective, receiving living followers would be better than receiving starved ones.

The reason could be discovered through observation. And I had one helper who had been observing for a very long time. I stroked Eve who was looking up at me, then smiled.

“The reason… honestly, I don’t know. In my mind, inquisitors are just stupid and evil guys. Should we go ask Bill?”

“What, that again? ‘I haven’t had breakfast yet, but I’m curious about something and have work to do, so I’m going to work right away?’ Working without rest makes people stupid, Arthur.”

She didn’t seem particularly displeased. She believed that after talking with Bill, I would come back up, have breakfast, and spend the entire day of our holiday with her. We know how to make promises without words.

“That’s why I entrust all my share of inexperience and innocence to Eve.”

Eve smiled back at my response and tapped the tip of my nose saying, “This guy.” That was it. I was about to carry her down when she showed me a virtual screen with an incoming communication request.

The channel name was… ‘Wasteland_03’. It was a communication from a place she had set up. Trying to suppress my rising smile, I added one more comment.

“I’m not sure who picked up whose habit of working on holidays.”

People who escaped from Creek or who are trying to escape would want someone who understands them to answer, not me. I headed to Pastor Bill Weber’s room.

I wondered if it could be called his room since he was just a hologram that couldn’t move… but it seemed K had helped Eve a bit. Inside his room sat a used unmanned drone from Skyhaven Robotics.

It appeared to have been a security drone. There were signs of replacement in the hands, feet, and sides. The dressed drone, or rather Bill inside it, spoke to me. The voice was unsurprisingly human-like.

“You seem to have been scarce lately, haven’t you? Or not?”

“I’ve been meeting you often at our house so as not to inconvenience my father-in-law.”

After a laugh was output from the drone, the hologram projector installed in the room activated. Pastor Bill Weber’s hologram was naturally overlaid above the drone.

“That was meant to be a mischievous joke, but it seems it wasn’t so mischievous after all. What brings you here? Last time you came asking for a Bible, perhaps religion…”

“You know I don’t lie to Bill. I’m reading the Bible only to understand Hollowwood Creek. I’ve already finished about half of it. I’m memorizing the content so I can quote it naturally.”

Bill didn’t even look disappointed. He spoke with the conviction of someone who could make animal-like sounds.

“I’ve seen people who say such things being used in one way or another more than once or twice. Arthur… honestly, I’m looking forward to it. Anxious too, but still.”

Perhaps this is faith in the old sense. The faith before people who had all values killed by that war began to worship the only concept they could believe in: ‘myself’.

Understanding Bill’s way of thinking is the greatest help in understanding Creek. After quietly listening to his words, I spoke. He would be somewhat pleased too.

“My Eve is helping Hollowwood Creek escapees, and I said I’d help her with that. I think I’ll be handling the physical tasks, but there’s something about the inquisitors’ behavior that… I can’t understand.”

“Ah, yes. You mean how instead of setting booby traps in the drop boxes, they empty them and put in John’s… rather severely distorted autobiography?”

He doesn’t even call it scripture. I nodded slightly with a smile. Bill spoke like a preacher for once.

“Why do you think people believe in religion, Arthur?”

“Half of it must be out of inertia. Because I’m from Creek, because my parents believe, because my siblings believe, because everyone believes. The other half… I think it’s miracles or showmanship that draws people in? I’ve heard they do that often.”

The initial sincerity of people who sought Hollowwood Creek because they needed something to lean on couldn’t possibly remain in this cult. It was either inertia or illusion. That was my thinking.

Pastor Bill Weber spoke like a preacher briefly, but soon returned to speaking in his own voice.

“For a young person to be so unromantic… But it’s true. People who believe out of inertia see the leader as ‘someone believed by everyone they know.’ Those who rely on miracles…”

“See him as an extraordinary figure who can accomplish anything. Are you saying such a figure refuses to order booby traps to kill fellow countrymen whose hearts have merely wavered?”

“Not quite refusing. They do remove them. It’s just… like saying ‘whatever happens with this is your responsibility.’ It doesn’t seem like such a special action…”

It’s to alleviate their guilt. And Hollowwood Creek isn’t providing anything to lean on. All they provide is control of desires and hope for promotion.

What was needed was someone who would release them, not control them. A sweet voice saying they would forgive even those who deserved to die. Everything is a tool.

“If we try to return the method the leader used, it might become quite special. They’re looking for something to lean on, and Creek isn’t enough, right? How about putting a recording chip in each drop box? I mean…”

I carefully chose my words. When using something as a tool, it must be hidden from those who love it. People dislike hearing correct but unpleasant words more than incorrect opinions.

“To make those people take even one step back. Not the leader’s autobiography, but words taken from real scripture, read in the voice of Hollowwood Creek’s preacher, not Pastor Bill Weber.”

The fact that they are human will be their security vulnerability. It might fail, but there’s no harm in trying. Putting chips in drop boxes was a small investment anyway.

“Ah, I might get to preach after such a long time. But from what you’re saying… it seems you want me to comfort those confused inquisitors?”

“Asking them whether it was the so-called god or the leader who helped them in such difficult situations. Hollowwood Creek can manipulate enthusiasm and cheers at will, but they can’t manipulate god as they please.”

Strictly speaking, the Bible was also Hollowwood Creek’s scripture. More precisely, they had elevated the leader’s distorted autobiography to the same position as the Bible. Authority doesn’t change and can’t be controlled.

Nevertheless, Pastor Bill Weber spoke as if quite displeased. It seems unwanted memories from the past were surfacing. That’s natural.

“It looks exactly like how John’s Hollowwood Creek invaded my Hollowwood Creek…”

“That’s why it’s an easily penetrable security vulnerability. No one believes they’ll be robbed in the same way they robbed others.”

“Al…right. So, what do you expect will happen when these people read the Lord’s book again instead of the leader’s?”

Either way was fine with me. If one of the inquisitors, who should be the leader’s most trusted associates, escaped from Hollowwood Creek, good. If they harbored discontent internally, also good. Everything was beneficial.

“I’m hoping that just a light touch will put them in an unstable state where they might run away, fight, or do something. Then I can use them in some way.”

In response to my answer, Pastor Bill Weber output the sound of clearing his throat before asking. It seems I wasn’t that trustworthy to him.

“Arthur, if John Rutherford offered you half of Hollowwood Creek to become his second-in-command, saying that together we could sweep the nations into Creek, how would you respond?”

“If I were such a threat that current me would need to be offered half of Hollowwood Creek to be recruited, I would refuse. It would be ridiculous for someone who could take everything to beg for half.”

Pastor Bill Weber heard my answer but looked even more puzzled than before. A question meant to clearly distinguish between good and evil had made things even more ambiguous.