Ch.45Work Record No. 009 – Nothing but the Horizon in Sight (1)

For a while, my senior, who had been defensively hugging her knees, moved a little closer to the center of the bed. The bed became about five percent narrower than before. Even with her legs stretched out, she still wouldn’t reach me.

“You know I don’t have much to talk about, Arthur. ‘Hollowed Creek was a terrible place’ would be the first thing, ‘I escaped from there’ would be the second, and running away in tears would be the third.”

After tidying her disheveled blue hair, she lifted her head slightly. Fortunately, the self-loathing had faded somewhat, and curiosity now filled its place.

“What about you, Arthur? Have you ever run away from something? I want to hear your story too. I… yeah. I think I just talked without caring whether you wanted to listen or not.”

As she spoke, my senior moved closer once more. Now the bed had narrowed by nearly fifteen percent from its original size. It was still too wide, but I could clearly see her face.

“If I really didn’t want to listen, wouldn’t I have just agreed with you in the parking lot? I’m fine. I don’t have much to talk about either…”

I scratched my head briefly, then turned my body completely to sit facing her. It was unclear where to begin explaining, but I knew the simplest way.

“I was one of the returned children. You know what that means, right? Children who were cultivated at MediTech, not naturally born, who for whatever reason—change of heart or otherwise—never made it to their customers.”

I briefly recalled Panacea MediTech’s cultivation chamber. I couldn’t remember anything, but when I graduated from the high school owned by Belwether, there was a photo of me being cultivated included with my diploma.

Whether they thought I could handle it now that I was an adult, or it was just delayed, I couldn’t tell, but that was the only image I had of myself as a child.

“Ah, it wasn’t just a change of heart. It was because of terrorism. A bomb attack targeting the administrative team leader of Belwether’s Los Angeles branch. Normally, all the children would have died, but thanks to the parents choosing cultivation, all the children on the 24th floor of Panacea MediTech that day survived.”

It was strange that I felt nothing about it. Is it strange? Is it normal to feel strange about the fact that I’m alive? I couldn’t tell. I continued speaking.

“According to procedure, Panacea MediTech should have issued a statement of condolence and looked for new buyers to take the children… but the city was in such chaos from the terrorism that there were no buyers.”

If there were no buyers, the returned children would typically be disposed of, but I deliberately didn’t mention that. Either way, I was standing here, not disposed of.

Seeing my senior’s expression gradually contort, I slowly reached out my hand. I had promised not to touch her hair, and true to that promise, she pulled her head back, but… after a moment, her cheek touched my hand.

It wasn’t particularly warm. Whether due to goosebumps or her naturally cool body temperature, I could even feel a subtle coldness. After briefly feeling her unique body temperature, I continued speaking.

“When Panacea MediTech employees were busy trying to process purchases for children who should have already been born, even if it meant spending their own money, people from Belwether came. They said they would purchase all of them. It was image-making to show they cared about life even in the face of terrorism targeting them, and it was typical Belwether behavior to try to create the most efficient employees from these purchased children, but…”

My senior moved closer once more. We were now sitting almost face to face, and the bed had shrunk by nearly thirty percent from its original size. This seemed like enough space.

“Either way, the children survived. And you became someone who does the work of about three people. What kind of parent was Belwether?”

Was there anything lacking? There couldn’t have been. Belwether was a company that could make anything and buy everything. As long as you proved your efficiency, rewards were given generously.

“They were parents who lacked nothing. They said that parental love is the process of developing emotional functions and sociability through social interactions with someone you instinctively feel close to, ultimately increasing efficiency, so they assigned one caretaker to each child. They said if they were going to manage us with numbers instead of names, they might as well have made machines instead of buying children.”

As I told Kay, Belwether was a company that would do anything for efficiency. Fake parents were an acceptable expense. If we provided them with that level of efficiency, that is.

“The children grew up a bit precociously, though. If Belwether said to score at least 70 on a 100-point test, everyone tried to score 100. As the children’s minds developed, they understood what Belwether had done for them. Can you imagine an elementary school class with an average score of 98 out of 100?”

My senior let out a scoffing laugh, as if she found it absurd. It was abnormal. Or was it normal? It might even be ideal, or terribly dystopian. It was something I couldn’t easily answer.

“Not at all. Even in Hollowed Creek, stupid kids were stupid, and kids who didn’t want to study didn’t study. What happened next?”

“I just kept living thinking I needed to become someone suitable for Belwether. I chose security as my career path and started handling rifles in middle school… Combining high school and college, I must have fired at least 500,000 rounds. Nationalists treated us like brainwashed child soldiers, but at least from our perspective, we weren’t.”

Thanks to that, I was able to deal with Jaina’s terrorism to some extent. Until I was caught by what I couldn’t predict—the variable, a word that Belwether so despised.

My senior was still choosing her words, unsure how to respond to my childhood. In the end, her answer was a list of everything that came to mind.

“I don’t know. I just don’t know. Belwether did a good thing. But should I call this a good thing? It’s good for me. If it created someone like you who can easily find answers and execute them just as easily, I can gladly… turn a blind eye. But what about you? Arthur, was your childhood happy?”

I recall the only part of my life that hasn’t been denied. No, actually, thinking about it, the only part of my life that was denied was the six months I spent at Belwether. I had 21 years and 6 months more than that.

Thinking that I might have been exaggerating, I smiled. It was a much more natural expression than when I practiced looking like a good new employee.

“It wasn’t bad. It was quite good. Maybe it couldn’t have been better.”

This is why I believe what Belwether believes. It’s also why I unquestioningly believe in the call to run faster and the fanaticism about efficiency. This high-speed era rescued me from the grinder and raised me as a person.

While I was reflecting, my senior’s eyes were staring intently at me. I couldn’t tell what emotion it was. But they were sparkling a little. She smiled somewhat comfortably and said:

“I’m envious, Arthur. Not that you were saved by Belwether’s hand, but that you can say such things. I’m so jealous it makes me envious. And… thank you. Yes. I’m glad you didn’t recoil thinking I was telling a horrible story.”

“I would never—”

As always, I was about to speak without calling her by name, but she interrupted me. After taking a deep breath as if gathering courage, she said:

“You can call me Eve. Don’t call me that in front of everyone else! I might go around shouting ‘That’s not my name!’ But if I did that, the word ‘Eve’ would forever remain a terrible word to me. I don’t want to keep terrible words in my dictionary… so I’m trying to change its meaning, starting with you. Go ahead. Come on. I’m ready.”

Ever since the Hollowed Creek inquisitor called her Eve, and since the cult leader reflected in that inquisitor’s helmet called her Eve, I had consciously avoided thinking of her name.

I thought I could forever replace it with “senior,” but apparently that wasn’t the case. I took a deep breath and, looking into Eve’s eyes, said:

“I would never tell Eve a horrible story. You already have enough horrible stories of your own.”

Her brow furrowed slightly, then relaxed again with a sigh. Eve pulled my hand back to her face, and with her cheek resting against it, she answered slowly:

“It’s still not great. Every time someone calls me that, I see that old man’s face. But it’s a little better. To you, I’m not Hollowed Creek’s Eve #113764, but Night Watch’s Senior Eve. Right?”

“Of course. Honestly, I can’t even imagine what Hollowed Creek looks like. I’m too much of a Belwether person to imagine a cult.”

Her face leaned more heavily into my hand. She smiled with the corners of her mouth turned up, looking more relaxed. Seeing Eve smile was quite a rare thing.

“That’s what I like about you. Yes. I’m starting to feel tired as all the tension drains away… Arthur, you keep making me spend time that’s too good for me. Too much for a Hollowed Creek killer… Still, yes. By tomorrow, you’ll reach your conclusion too. I wish the sun wouldn’t rise. Arthur, Belwether didn’t develop technology to stop the Earth, did they?”

Her words were increasingly becoming sleepy mumbles. I gently carried her to the head of the bed, which had become just the right size for us, and helped her sit with her back against the headboard. Eve leaned against me naturally.

“They didn’t. You know those kinds of weapons haven’t been made since that war.”

“That’s right, yes…”

Not long after hearing my response, her head, which had been supporting itself slightly, completely rested on my shoulder.

Due to the terribly thick smog, stars were no longer visible, and the only twinkling came from the light pollution of Los Angeles beyond this ruined town… but even in this high-speed era, there were occasionally slow moments like this.

Unable to fall asleep, yet not fully awake, time passed, but I didn’t feel tired at all. Though we were on a bed in this ruined villa that once hosted someone’s vacation, the feeling of Eve leaning completely against me was much more vivid than I had imagined. I briefly lifted my head to look at her face.

Her head was comfortably resting, with regular breathing sounds, and her prosthetic hand, painted the same color as her skin, was firmly gripping my clothes. Even without that, I wouldn’t have wanted to go anywhere else.

I finally fell asleep around sunrise. It must have been about five in the morning. Eve, who probably had trouble sleeping because of taking me to find the cult leader’s house, slept until nine, and so did I.

I woke up in the same position as when I fell asleep. Eve was still leaning on my shoulder, and as I was gently tidying her hair that had become disheveled during the four hours, she blinked and opened her eyes.

After slowly looking around the room, as if confirming that she wasn’t in Hollowed Creek, she took a deep breath and then lay down, leaning her body completely against me.

“Good morning, Arthur. My neck is stiff from sleeping sitting up… but that doesn’t matter much. Is it the same for you?”

Eve, whom I had thought was cold and aloof, had more gaps than I expected, was more stubborn than I thought, and was more emotional than I had imagined. I deliberately answered in a matter-of-fact tone.

“Of course. Shall we wash up and go?”

She nodded briefly. Pointing to the large bathroom attached to the villa, she said:

“The water still works well, so use that. We’re heading into the wasteland, so make sure you’re well-armed… How’s the smog today? Not bad enough to need gas masks, right?”

I look out the window. Judging by the decent visibility, the concentration wasn’t that thick. Very rarely, but once or twice a year, visibility would be less than three meters.

“It seems fine. It might even be lighter than usual, so there shouldn’t be any problem getting to the wasteland. What about armaments?”

“Did you bring your combat uniform that you wear for work? That should be enough. Make sure your gun is properly prepared, check your magazines well, and prepare plenty of spares… I’d prefer if we could go without killing anyone. If possible, that is. It’s ridiculous for me to act virtuous when I’ve already killed more than a few, and I have no intention of waving a white flag in front of someone else’s gun barrel.”

That’s her self-deprecating side. I moved my hand to her head, and this time, seeing that she didn’t resist, I gently stroked it. My hand, which had carefully touched so as not to disturb her hair, pulled away.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re outside of Hollowed Creek now, aren’t you?”

She wasn’t Hollowed Creek’s killer but Senior Eve. Hearing those words, my senior rearranged her hair with her hand, her cheeks flushing slightly before calming herself with a deep breath.

“That’s right. But still, don’t stroke my head. It feels very strange to be petted by someone five years younger than me. Think of it as my whim, Arthur.”

She really does have her arbitrary and stubborn sides. Seeing this fact, I smiled and then washed up in the bathroom, which was larger than my duty room. Inside the bathroom, there were traces of several people having used it.

Is helping Hollowed Creek escapees Eve’s way of atonement? Thinking it might be, I came out and changed into my usual black uniform. I didn’t wear the face mask or bulletproof mask, but I did put on the helmet.

I got on her bike, and again heading for the address she showed me, I drove the bike toward the outskirts of the Greater Los Angeles area. I could see the dead land. The wasteland stretched out vastly.

The wasteland was land that people had abandoned after that war. Land that had to be abandoned after that war, which reduced the world population from 12.7 billion to 3.7 billion, including clones. It was flesh that had to be cut away to survive.

When I went out to catch Osgard Sa, I only had to deal with a van parked by the road, but this time, I had to go much further.

It’s a land full of dangers, where dust storms that devour everything rage several times a month, and where there might be improperly disposed weapons from that war era.

Of course, none of that mattered today. We weren’t going after treasures hidden behind dangers, but to find Eve’s past. We were going to see the place that made her known as the Hollowed Creek killer, the place she said she had to show me because I didn’t call her by that name.

Would I despise Eve when we arrived there? It didn’t seem likely, so I accelerated more. Going faster was the quickest way to get there.