Ch.315Record of Task #045 – Deceiver, Enchanter, and Maker of Ambiguity (2)

If the cooperation with Dead Eye continues, we could infiltrate Hollowed Creek without any casualties, deal with the cult leader and his bodyguards, and finish the job. Even a single innocent death is too many.

Pastor Bill Weber will handle the deception. With help from Serana of Silverlining, or perhaps Kay who once breached Belwether’s security, we could upload him into Hollowed Creek’s system.

Once he starts speaking, diverting the attention of everyone in Hollowed Creek won’t even be a challenge. He was someone who once captivated all of Hollowed Creek with his vision, and he still can.

If Dean was someone who channeled the anger of the oppressed as his own and stood up for others with that power and vigor, Pastor Bill Weber was someone who somehow embraced tired and wounded hearts.

I can hardly imagine how he must have felt when the only method he could use with my Eve was to berate her… It must have been terrible. That’s the best word I can use.

Dead Eye’s communications came at irregular intervals. After several days, I heard the sound of dusty winds from the wasteland through his communication channel. His voice was as dusty as those winds.

That’s not to say the sound quality was poor. He too was in the gray zone. Whether he regretted it or not, the people who suffered because of him were more than enough. Nevertheless, he was someone I needed to help now.

If I help him, he could make some atonement. Like different currencies, he couldn’t use it to pay for his sins, but he could do good deeds that would be his share. That’s enough.

“Ahab, it’s Dead Eye. I don’t have any, uh, special information… I have time, but no one to talk to comfortably.”

“There’s no need to draw a line saying we’re just business partners and not friends, right? By the way, Dead Eye, how much trust do you have from the cult leader?”

“As much as other wasteland handlers. He trusts me enough to send me outside Hollowed Creek… but I don’t think the First Adam knows who I really am.”

To make things easier, Dead Eye needed to climb as high as possible. Having an inquisitor with the cult leader’s trust helping me would make things much simpler than just a regular inquisitor.

But even if he reached a certain position, we shouldn’t be overconfident about it. Unlike at Belwether, employees at Hollowed Creek were merely consumables. Even trusted consumables are still consumables.

“So you’ve earned some trust…. Is there a way I can help raise your position? You guys have a troublemaker in Los Angeles, don’t you? A big one.”

“The Grand Inquisitor is there. Their brokers are pretty capable, so escapees keep disappearing, and the Grand Inquisitor is getting hammered for it lately. Why? Want me to get fucked too?”

Is Grand Inquisitor the highest rank since the cult leader himself holds the position of Chief Inquisitor? After openly mocking these words that belong in some trashy fantasy novel, I mixed in some humor.

“Yeah, I want you to get fucked too. I’ll create some evidence for you to give to that Grand Inquisitor guy. Ask him to put in a good word with the cult leader. If I handle this well, what happens to you and me?”

“The Grand Inquisitor will die, and if he speaks well to the cult leader before he goes, I might take his position… Are you sure I’m not really getting fucked here?”

This would be impossible in a normal company, but in Hollowed Creek, where they eradicate individuality and use people like replaceable parts, it’s certainly possible.

They’re all the same Adams anyway, all using the same weapons and strategies—how could the cult leader distinguish between them? He’ll just assign the successor to whichever inquisitor comes to mind.

Even if he wanted to verify, he’d have no way to extend surveillance to the wasteland, and Dead Eye within Hollowed Creek would know how to hide himself. He became an inquisitor and survived, after all.

“No. But if I put you in that position, you’re getting on a roller coaster with the safety bar down. You can’t get off. Understand?”

Hearing Dead Eye’s response… I could somewhat understand why Dean always spoke with such indignation whenever he saw Creek people.

“What’s a roller coaster?”

“Something like a train.”

“Should I praise the cult leader for at least letting me ride a train with a roof instead of just safety bars? Is that it?”

We both burst out laughing, but… there was something rather… bizarre about someone who had never heard of or couldn’t grasp everyday words.

Killing Hollowed Creek is ultimately for my Eve. But that doesn’t mean it can’t also help the people of Hollowed Creek. Results are always more diverse than their causes.

Dead Eye’s laughter was shallow too. He forced himself to laugh just to ease the tension, but he was still full of tension and anxiety. After all, I hadn’t proven my abilities yet.

“What if the cult leader finds out we’re working together? I might be fine, but you probably had bad relations with the cult leader from the start. One-sided or mutual. That would make it easy to find clues…”

“You think there’s a chance the cult leader might identify me with his limited intelligence? Not at all, Dead Eye. I’ll have a perfect alibi. An alibi he could never question.”

The alibi is simple. I’ll kill the Grand Inquisitor either on the morning I visit Panacea MediTech, or while crossing the wasteland by bike to attend Belwether’s shareholders’ meeting.

The tighter the timetable, the better. It’s good to test the limits of my abilities, and better if everything happens simultaneously so the opponent can’t respond. It’s entirely doable.

Even if the cult leader vaguely knows about me freeing my Eve, he would never imagine I’d do something like that as casually as having breakfast before meeting a mega-corporation.

He lacks imagination. He’s someone who couldn’t even write his own scripture properly and just crudely altered the original, someone who can’t distinguish between desire and deficiency.

And even if he notices, we can storm Hollowed Creek before he has time to prepare anything. We can go in on Dead Eye’s first day of earning the cult leader’s trust, before he even replaces his consumables.

After ending the connection with Dead Eye, I contact Manager Robin J. after a long time. I enter the rather silly code phrase asking why it’s Panacea and not Panacea, and I’m connected to her.

“Arti! Do you have to contact me only once every three months? I think this is the first time you’ve contacted me since the last party. Right?”

“You know freelancers are busy. And didn’t we meet once while working? When I brought the cargo.”

“Ah, right. I saw you then. That was the first time one of the miracle children was recognized by Panacea MediTech, and I… Anyway, what made you call?”

Manager Robin J. is always motherly. She’s the only one who uses the somewhat cringeworthy nickname “Arti,” and one of the few people who treats me like I’m barely in my twenties.

But I didn’t contact her now for that warmth. I contacted her to speak with the Panacea MediTech manager I know. Suppressing my somewhat guilty feelings, I speak.

“I wanted to formally request through official channels that a Panacea MediTech certified freelancer would like to meet with the branch director. Could you pass along the request?”

“That’s not difficult… but why do you want to meet the branch director? If it’s red information even for me, I’ll scold you, Arti.”

Though her words were somewhat joking, I decided to answer seriously. Panacea MediTech would gain a pathway.

“I’ve found a way for Belwether and Panacea MediTech to collaborate. You could say I’m helping with your retirement planning.”

“Um… you know how difficult this is, right? Those human hunters won’t just abandon what they believe is efficient. Right?”

I understand her anxiety. Panacea MediTech had made tremendous efforts to collaborate with Belwether. They even analyzed and provided pattern data on the emergence of Ideal Formers.

Their persuasion failed because they didn’t know the exact reason. It wasn’t about efficiency but fear, which is why all their attempts failed.

We all paint ideals. And we’re held back by reality, the past, experiences we believe we’ve forgotten, and experiences we wish to forget. Belwether is the same. Organizations somehow… take on faces similar to people.

They’re not real people and don’t have real emotions or thoughts, yet the moment their reins are loosened, they start thinking like people, hating like people, and begin to loathe like people. It’s ironic.

“I’ve figured out why Belwether hunts Ideal Formers. I had a sufficiently convincing hypothesis, and I know why that hypothesis was wrong… does that sound promising?”

Only then did Manager Robin J. seem to think I knew more than she had predicted, and she began to speak with somewhat lowered defenses.

“Most Ideal Formers occurred naturally, but most of the older Ideal Formers… since you say you’ve figured it out, you probably know too, Arti. Do you really think you can change that so easily?”

“They were born as Kativic’s lab rats. But that’s not all. This is red information, so I’m planning to tell only the branch director for now… can we set up an appointment?”

There’s worry in her voice. And with a shallow sigh, her answer comes. To her, I was a fresh college graduate, but… I wasn’t. I had come to know too much.

I’ve experienced many disappointments, seen many idols fall. Even my own idols have crumbled… and sometimes I was too intoxicated with the aftereffects of having killed too many people when I needed to topple idols. I’ve lived a colorful life.

“Sigh, if only Ideal Formers were really mutants. People born from God playing dice. Then those people would have no responsibility. Now… yes, it’s sad.”

After pausing for a few seconds, as if not wanting to appear dejected in front of me… with a somewhat pretentious voice that parents often use with children, which somehow makes a corner of your heart ache, she spoke.

“Still, how could I look dejected in front of you? Alright. I’ll report to the branch director. When the company contacts you, you can set the exact schedule then. By the way, can I say one more personal thing?”

“Of course. What would you like to say?”

“It’s nothing much. They say one who is about to be born must destroy a world… but you don’t need to become an adult too soon at twenty-three, Arti. It’s an age where you can date and have trivial worries, isn’t it?”

I answered her words with laughter. For me, this was a trivial worry. For me, this was the process of dating. For me, this was what I could do for the person I love.

After my laughter stopped, I was about to answer, but Manager Robin J. started telling a story about me that even I had never heard before. It’s been a long time since I heard stories about the past.

“You can smile prettily now, Arti. Right? Then can I say you’re having a good youth?”

“You could say that… but what was I like before?”

At my words, Manager Robin tried to gloss over it with laughter as if she had made a slip of the tongue… but then she spoke as if she couldn’t hide it.

“Have you seen your childhood photos?”

“I have. I think my parents’ death had some meaning then. Instead of eyes, it looked like I had two black holes so you couldn’t see inside.”

“Haa, if that were the reason, I wouldn’t have worried. You were… a scary child, Arti. Even when you were with other children, you just watched them play as if observing alien creatures you couldn’t understand.”

A pale, emotionless face and eyes like black holes. I certainly thought I wouldn’t have had friends when I was young, but judging by Manager Robin’s tone, it wasn’t such a light issue.

“Do you know what your first words were, Arthur? Though somewhat awkward, they were, ‘Why isn’t this child crying? Are they okay?’ Your nanny was terrified, you know?”

“It must have been like a scene from a horror movie. But I’m living quite well now, aren’t I? I think things turned out fine one way or another…”

Manager Robin J. made a somewhat pained sound, then with a sigh, she spoke honestly.

“That’s also why we can’t completely distance ourselves from Belwether even though we don’t trust them, Arti. You had a serious neurological defect. We were considering disposal…”

The manager spoke as if trying to comfort my feelings, but there was no reason for my emotions to be intense. By Panacea MediTech’s logic, disposing of such a defective product wasn’t that strange.

“Belwether requested a neural network restoration procedure. It’s not usually done on children. It’s a procedure normally received by aging mega-corporation aristocrats with deteriorating nervous systems, but Belwether funded it.”

In short, they fixed my brain once. It occurred to me that this might be why I have an unusually high threshold for mutant abilities, but I decided to listen quietly for now.

“Belwether shone quite brightly then. They said, ‘Someone who cannot love others, cannot laugh or cry, and cannot feel burden or responsibility is not a person. We agreed to purchase a person from your company.'”

Belwether is more compassionate than it appears, and Panacea MediTech is colder than it seems. I’ve felt this many times, but even in my story, Belwether was the humane and compassionate one.

“Funnily enough, Belwether was right. Now you’re happy helping others, you love that child Eve, and you’re surely feeling countless things in places I don’t know about. Aren’t you?”

What was used on me was clearly a technology to reprogram the brain. A repair technology that tears apart old code and fixes it to work properly. Some might call it inhumane and violent.

But the result was me. As Manager Robin said, someone who knows joy and love, can give charity… and feels guilt, burden, and responsibility. That’s enough for me.

Belwether, who chose that, is right. But that doesn’t mean Panacea MediTech, who can honestly bring up that story to me and honestly say they considered disposal, is wrong.

The answer to the question of who is right between A and B has countless answers. A is right. B is right. Both A and B are right. Neither A nor B is right. It’s a problem where right and wrong cannot be judged. Moreover, what is not right is not always wrong.

It’s a world terribly full of only gray, not black and white. Despite knowing this, I now have to choose a side in this world. I decide to consider it fortunate that I heard this story from Robin now.

Just before the moment when I can no longer postpone my choice, I can remind myself that I am not doing this for some non-existent goodwill, righteousness, or predetermined correct answer.

My compass is only my desire and pleasure. I don’t care if this compass leads me to a place that fills my ledger of sins with all kinds of transgressions. As the captain of my soul, I will gladly steer the ship in that direction.