Ch.606. Android.

# 06. Android.

The large glass door that was once the pride of the Superstore had been shattered to pieces by someone who had crashed their car into it.

As if determined to show how far one could go to deny morality for survival, the driver had caused people to be crushed under broken glass and run over by the car.

But did his actions pour fuel and light a match to the fragile morality still barely surviving in people?

Following the path he had created, others who rode the wave of abandoning humanity and morality for self-interest followed in their cars, and he too met his death.

Inside the blackened skeleton of the car, unable to escape in time, what thoughts crossed his mind in those final moments?

“Really, I don’t know whether to call this weather fortunate or unfortunate.”

Crushed by cars, bodies impaled by thick glass, caught in exploding vehicles.

Even without such accidents, this place was filled with lives lost to stab wounds or gunshots.

“If it hadn’t kept snowing, all these countless corpses would have decomposed, right?”

The bodies, preserved by the freezing weather, maintained their appearance despite the passage of time.

It was a horrifying sight that made me grimace involuntarily, even after finding forced calm through cigarettes.

If the seasons were to cycle, the snow melt, and temperatures rise, causing all these bodies to decompose… that would surely be horrific in its own way.

Just imagine the floor covered with skeletons, skin, and spilled organs, swarming with insects gathering to feast.

“…Indeed, nothing in this world is entirely good or entirely bad.”

…Even in desperate hunger, I don’t think I could have easily stepped into such a place.

The interior of the store beyond the mountain formed not of dirt and gravel but of survival instinct was in a similar state.

With the outside in such condition, it would be strange if the inside were pristine.

The only difference was that there were relatively more places to step comfortably.

Unlike the outer entrance where you had to pass through another gate to get inside even after breaking the glass windows to widen the entrance, people were more spread out in the spacious interior of the store.

No matter how much I tried not to think about it, stepping on or crushing people would be mentally draining, so this was somewhat fortunate.

“Ah. There are information robots here too.”

And if there was something else special, it was that androids were scattered sporadically across the floor.

According to the flyers posted in the mart, these androids were “good kids who warmly welcomed visitors and guided them to where they needed items.”

Though I’m not sure why such good kids were holding weapons like guns or batons.

“They’re all broken too. I guess even machines couldn’t escape the collapse of civilization.”

The androids lying on the floor were all shattered to pieces.

Someone who didn’t know these were robots might think a dismemberment murderer had been here.

“How pitiful. They were just following orders to guide visitors and stop thieves.”

The machines in this world, after repeated technological advancements, could take on forms identical to humans.

Of course, the human form isn’t particularly excellent for performing various tasks, so most machines had appearances suitable for their assigned roles.

These androids, perhaps because their mission was to interact with people among people, resembled their creators exactly.

“But maybe because they look too similar, seeing robot corpses… no, what should I call them? Damaged bodies… makes me feel strangely uncomfortable.”

Unlike humans, whose faces become expressionless as muscles stiffen during death.

When robots suddenly lose power and become immobile, they maintain the expression and posture they had at their last moment.

Walking carefully to avoid stepping on people, my foot touched an android’s head.

Even in death, it had its eyes wide open as if unable to comprehend the situation.

Next to it was a head with its mouth wide open and brows furrowed as if trying to stop someone.

And nearby, another head was looking up at me with a crying face, as if it had sensed that everything was coming to an end.

They died long ago, but they were still asking me questions.

“…Even if you ask me ‘why did this happen,’ I don’t know anything and can’t know anything.”

Even humans who lived in that era—only a very small number would have understood how their world was flowing and why it ended up like this.

So all I can do, having awakened late and walking half a step behind the past, is to make my own wild guesses about what happened and ramble on however I please.

“Ugh. It’s even more disturbing because the skin feels so real.”

Though I’m wearing thick gloves, so I can’t feel the skin texture directly.

But the overall weight and the way the skin moves when I close their open eyes with my fingers is so human-like.

“Looking at this, I really can’t tell who’s a machine and who’s a human.”

Machines who died here because of the missions they were bound to from birth.

And people who came here seeking to escape hunger, only to meet their end.

“If I said that not only their appearance but also their final moments were similar… I suppose that would be disrespectful to the deceased.”

Now all I can do is pray for peace in their next life. Whether they were human or machine.

…Though I’m not sure if there really is a next life.

“That corner over there, judging by the banners and logos on the pillars, seems to have sold clothes, don’t you think?”

True to its name, the Superstore sold not just food but countless types of items.

Numerous electronic devices, life-sized moving toy robots, and even expensive clothes and cosmetics.

When this place was full of merchandise, it would have been faster to find what wasn’t here than what was.

“What could have been so tempting?”

But now, nothing remains.

The display cases and clothing racks that once held various items are smashed like the entrance doors, and the items that would have been there have vanished without a trace.

If it weren’t for the fallen banners near the sections or the pictures attached to the pillars, I wouldn’t even be able to guess what was originally sold where.

“Clothes, accessories… thinking about it now, there are really only a few things truly necessary for survival.”

One or two well-fitting, comfortable outfits.

And a few tools like flashlights and torches.

With just those, I’ve been living in this desolate city.

And at least, I haven’t felt much inconvenience in my daily life.

“If they had the resources and time to make and collect such useless things, I’d like to tell them, ‘Make more edible food instead!'”

Then perhaps more people could have survived longer, and I wouldn’t have had to step into this hell looking for food.

“But… even if I went back in time and said such things, people back then wouldn’t understand. After all, what I’m seeing is a world that has already perished.”

No matter how beautiful and colorful the paint you apply to a white canvas.

When those colors pile up and accumulate until every surface turns black, the beautiful picture from before becomes invisible.

“Now these objects and people’s actions seem incomprehensible and pathetic. But surely back then, such trivial possessions and personal satisfaction were the driving force for living.”

…And I too once lived in such an era.

Having various gaming consoles, eating delicious food to my heart’s content, living without worries.

For me to talk about vanity or waste to these people would be like spitting while lying down.

“…By the way, weren’t people from the past amazing? How could they build such huge buildings and fill them with all sorts of items?”

People are easily influenced by the words they speak.

Fundamentally, speech itself is created through thought about phenomena and then expressed outwardly, so it’s natural.

“The era I lived in was amazing too… but as I wander through this world, I can’t tell what’s normal and what’s ordinary anymore.”

This world, where only depressing and complicated things remain, will consume me without my knowing if I keep talking about such things.

Getting used to loneliness and despair is necessary for survival.

But if it goes beyond getting used to and becomes accepted as normal.

If I start thinking of death as nothing special and accept extinct life and civilization as they are.

Then I too will likely meet the same end.

“As time passes… I hope those of you beyond the drone, or people who left this city, can come here to rebuild and develop the old civilization.”

So instead of the phenomenon unfolding before my eyes, I verbalize the image I consciously create.

This act—optimistically called dreaming, or realistically called escapism—is something I’ve done many times to survive, but this time it felt a little different.

“When that time comes… we might be able to meet too. I’m looking forward to it. Yeah.”

Is it because I think there’s someone listening to my words?

Unlike usual, a smile formed naturally without having to force the corners of my mouth up.