Chapter 65: That Faint and Uncertain Something, Which People Call Their Original Scenery
Although I am now fighting “for the sake of Machine City,” the truth is that I possess not even a shred of patriotism… Or, in this case, would it be city-pride? Either way, I have no feelings of that sort whatsoever. There are no tears shed in remembrance of my homeland, nor does my heart beat faster at the thought of it.
To begin with, I was born in a test tube.
That is nothing unusual. It is perfectly normal in Machine City.
If I accessed the database, I could probably examine the genetic information used to create me. But there would be no meaning in doing so. If I have time to look back on my roots, I'd be a billion times better off contemplating the future I can carve out. I can say without hesitation that the two aren't even worth comparing.
I was born into that kind of “world,” and I have always accepted that kind of “value system” as correct.
The present over the past. The future over the present. Innovation is the absolute principle of Machine City.
And yet…
Why?
—Why am I suddenly remembering the first thing I ever made?
—Why can't I remember what it was?
—Why does it hurt my chest that I can't remember?
Even searching the database turns up nothing. Of course it doesn't. Whatever I made as a child was undoubtedly nothing more than junk. I never officially presented it, either. There would be no reason for Machine City to preserve a record of something like that.
A record of junk—then it has no value.
A memory of a lost past—there is no innovation to be found there.
And yet, why is it?
Why is it that something I must surely have felt back then—
—That flutter in my young heart… Why do I find myself thinking of it as something “precious”?
"—Padron Zalfedahl. That was an extremely meaningful discussion. First, allow me to offer you my praise and gratitude."
What an interesting man. It has been a long time since another person's opinions stirred such unease within me.
No. He isn't the only one.
Come to think of it, ever since we began fighting the Great Forest, nothing but irregularities have occurred. My calculations have been thrown off time and time again. I must raise my assessment of the value of these people—those who continue their journey under the banner of “salvation,” led by Kizuna Harukawa—by one level.
"I acknowledge it. You possess an “unknown” that is different from the innovation we advocate."
『…! Then you'll stop the invasion…』
"Precisely because of that!"
I forcibly cut off Kizuna Harukawa just as he was about to ask whether we would stop our invasion of the Great Forest.
—Ah, it has been a long time since I last raised my voice, too. I can feel a strange exhilaration spreading throughout my body.
My heart is pounding. The heartbeat of days long past is playing again.
I acknowledge it. I truly do.
I am fascinated by the “unknown” that you all are weaving together. This is not “interest,” but… Yes, “expectation.”
Apart from the intellectual curiosity that makes me want to reexamine possibilities I once concluded were “impossible” and discarded, I find myself hoping that you will surpass our innovation.
What a truly absurd thought.
Even knowing that what lies ahead is a “path” that, according to our calculations, is absolutely impossible, I have come to want to see a future in which your “unknown” shatters the certain solution we have chosen: escaping Chaos with Machine City alone.
And therefore—
"From here on, the arithmetic is simple."
And therefore—
"Now, let us put it to the test. Your “unknown” against our “innovation.” Let us see which way the scales will tip."
I begin entering commands into the monitor.
The code that will activate the final program, pouring everything Machine City has into it.
"—By order of Limient Cornerstone, City Leader. Activate, Mobile City Mikania!"
"Could that possibly be…?!"
As I run, watching Machine City in the distance transform in its entirety into an enormous giant robot, I slip in a little theatrical performance. I say “Could that possibly be…?!” even though I know exactly what it is, and call out the player's name in a wistful voice despite not being worried in the slightest.
Meanwhile, inside my head, 『 オレ』 raises a question.
—Why does nobody ever attack while something is transforming? They could defeat it so easily.
—Whoa, Star, you're seriously clueless about the mood. That's absolutely something you must never do.
For once, I completely agree with the defective spirit.
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