370 – S7. Omelas Fixers -1

Screech──! Thump.

“aaagh…!!”

A scarlet sports car, tearing through Omelas’ night, had collided with a boy crossing the street. Blood splattered with the sound of impact.

The boy’s left arm was severed by a sharp, protruding piece of the sports car’s bumper. Clutching at the wound, he rolled on the pavement.

And beside the road… the birthday cake, painstakingly bought with the boy’s meager savings, lay hopelessly crushed. It was his sister’s birthday. The cake was meant for celebration.

The sports car’s headlights illuminated the pathetic scene.

Thunk.

The passenger door opened, and a young man with slicked-back, brilliant blonde hair stepped out. He looked down at the boy as if he were a pinned insect specimen, then lifted the severed arm, examining it.

“A real arm. Not artificial muscle fibers, no embedded power source. You should’ve invested in some human augmentation, friend.”

The young man’s voice was nonchalant. Almost impossibly light. He didn’t seem like someone who’d just caused a traffic accident. The boy, wincing in pain, looked up at him.

That face… he remembered it.

Not from a direct encounter. He was a petty thief; he had no connection to people who drove cars as fancy as this. The reason he recognized him was that the young man was famous.

Beyond them, an advertisement played on a massive LED screen mounted on a building wall. The blonde young man in the screen smiled and said, “Better Function, Better Life. Invest in your worth. Utopia Industries.”

A face frequently seen in those ubiquitous ads was now, right before him. Bathed in the pallid glow of flickering blue neon.

The young CEO of *Utopia*, the mega-corporation that effectively ruled Omelas: Marco. That was the young man’s name.

Upright, capable, virtuous. Marco was someone who used his immense wealth to help the underprivileged, and he had drastically lowered hospital bills that were previously exorbitant.

So, even the boy, cynical about society and drifting through the back alleys… had looked favorably upon young CEO Marco.

“You should replace that useless arm while you’re at it. An R-type prosthetic might help you find a more productive job in the city, don’t you think?”

“Ugh, ugh…”

“I’ll compensate you handsomely. More than that arm was ever worth, probably.”

The Marco projected on screens and the Marco standing before him were worlds apart.

Marco snapped his fingers and opened his wallet. Then, he pulled out a wad of bills like grabbing a tissue, and used them to wipe the blood off his sports car.

And after stuffing the bloodstained bills into the boy’s front pocket, he crouched down, met his gaze, and said,

“Why that expression? This is an amazing stroke of luck. The trash dying in back alleys, sucking on e-drugs, will be green with envy. So… you should be smiling.”

“Ugh, ugh…”

“Aren’t you going to smile?”

As the boy gasped in pain, Marco’s expression hardened. He intensely disliked anyone who wouldn’t heed his logical persuasion.

If you offered the lower rungs of Omellas ‘an arm for 50,000 credits’, they’d gladly clean Marco’s shoes with their unclean tongues, hygiene a foreign concept to them.

This was a moment of such astonishing, delightful fortune, yet the boy wouldn’t smile. Didn’t that render Marco’s overpayment meaningless? He’d wanted to make the boy happy. He felt thoroughly discouraged and disappointed.

“Hmm. It seems you haven’t learned to appreciate your luck.”

But it was fine. He didn’t believe ignorance was a sin. Most likely, the boy’s father or mother hadn’t provided a proper education. So he had no choice but to offer him a chance to learn.

“You will soon enough.”

*Beep.* Marco scanned the boy’s identification chip, saved his biometric data, and then climbed back into the sports car. *Vrooom*. The raucous engine roared as the red vehicle sped away.

The boy watched the afterimage the sports car left behind, trembling with dread.

He remembered. The boy had been walking properly on the sidewalk. The sports car had been driving on the road. The road hadn’t even been narrow. There had been plenty of room to avoid him.

And yet, the boy had been hit by the car. That was to say…

That sports car… had deliberately swerved. To tear off the arm of a passing pedestrian. That damned man had intentionally caused an accident.

“Ugh, ugh…”

But there was nothing he could do. He didn’t have the funds to sue, and even if he did, Marco wouldn’t even blink. No one would believe him either. He was the ruler of the city, after all.

The boy gathered his severed arm, the ruined cake, and the blood-stained money, and staggered home.

And three months later, the boy – due to the failure of his prosthetic arm transplant and its resulting complications, the disappearance of his sister and her debts being transferred under the boy’s name, a suspicious arson attack and robbery in the slums – took his own life.

Misfortune.

In this city, some are simply a little more unfortunate than others.

—

*Clatter! Bang!*

First thing Pin did was gather all the cigarette packs and tissues scattered across the living room and toss them into the trash. Then, he threw open all the windows to air out the place. The piled-up laundry was tossed haphazardly on top of the laundry basket, shoved down any way he could.

The *dakimakura* he’d drunkenly purchased was folded in half and stuffed into the closet. And, and… right. The floor was a little sticky. Needed a quick mop.

He was about to run to the bathroom, but his foot caught on the drying rack, sending it crashing down. *Shatter!*

“Ah, ah!”

“Pin, is everything alright in there? I heard something break…”

“Ah, it’s nothing! Just a moment longer!”

Hanging from the drying rack were the clothes Pin had been wearing. Among them, a pair of boxer briefs with a large elephant printed on the front.

Pin deeply regretted his unrestrained spending habits, grabbed the entire drying rack, and shoved it into the closet. First, he had to get these eyesores out of sight.

Meanwhile, the TV was just reaching its climax.

-Alright, then, the loser has to endure three minutes on the vibrating massage chair as punishment!

“Aish, seriously…!”

Beep. Beep beep beep.

He tried to turn off the TV with the remote, but the batteries were already running low and now it was completely unresponsive. No matter how many times he pressed the power button, it wouldn’t turn off. Of all times, now!

-Aahh♥

“aaagh!”

Pin covered the moan with a scream, ripping the cord connected to the TV out of the wall. The TV, cut off from its power source, flickered and died into a black screen.

Did she hear that? Surely not? Yes, she couldn’t have. Please.

“Pin? If there’s someone else in there…”

Oh, merciful gods!

“Ah, hahaha! No, no, no! It’s just me! It’s all finished, so if you just wait a little longer, I’ll be ready to receive you in a moment. Just a quick sec!”

Thump thump thump.

[Situation Analysis Module Activated].

All the unsightly things were shoved into the closet, and he wrung out the mop, swiping it across the floor as he passed. He pushed the Goddess Module to its limit, dashing through the room using the most efficient routes.

How long had it been since he’d moved so frantically? Perhaps, at this very moment, he was breaking his personal best record for speed.

Done. He did it. Everything was cleaned up!

Pin, dripping with sweat, opened the front door.

“Well, come… come in. It’s a bit… humble.”

“Yes. Excuse me…”

Thump thump.

The Little Pope entered Pin’s one-room apartment, her face slightly flushed. Her eyes sparkled with curiosity. It was her first time seeing the room where Pin resided.

Getting to know a different side of someone you knew was an exciting thing. Pin, it seemed, lived a slightly… what to call it… disorganized life. Judging by the frantic cleaning sounds that had resonated even outside the door.

Then it would be nice to live with a neat and tidy person who’s good at cleaning. The Little Pope rolled up her sleeves and said.

“I’m going to wash my hands first!”

“Ah, yes. Of course… Wait, just a moment. I’ll just go check things out first.”

Pin darted to the bathroom. Had he left anything dangerous lying around in here? His eyes darted around, searching. Nothing. No matter how much he looked, there was nothing. Thank goodness.

Whew. Just as he was about to let out a sigh of relief, Pin caught sight of his reflection in the bathroom mirror and froze.

The stubble is terrible. That’s fine.

But due to his long years living alone, maintaining comfortable attire indoors, he was now… wearing only a white undershirt and boxer briefs. He hadn’t noticed.

He should have gotten dressed in front of her.

“…The sanitizer, here. Use this. Press, just press it and it’ll come out….”

“It comes out when you press it!”

“If you would, thoroughly now, between your fingers too. If possible, wash for at least five minutes….”

“Yes, alright, Fin. I actually felt like washing my hands extra clean today.”

*Creak*. *Thump*. Fin quietly closed the bathroom door. Beyond it, he could hear the Little Pope humming, *Hhm-hm-hmm*.

While the Little Pope scrubbed away, all bubbly, Fin managed to extract some clothes from the closet – a chaotic mess, jammed full of all the house’s corruption.

He collapsed onto the sofa, covering his face with both hands.

Completely burnt out….

—

The first question to ask, naturally, was this one:

“How is it that you’ve come to be here?”

“I couldn’t find Fin, so I asked. Then I heard that Fin was undertaking a trial in another world. So… I asked if I could join, and the magician readily agreed!”

“…It’s dangerous. Even so….”

“I received an explanation. That I might undergo unpleasant things. But that it was safe, I wouldn’t die….”

Fin was troubled. True, the mad magician had boasted, so there’d be no dying. Bennet had said his safety mechanism worked properly under similar conditions.

But wasn’t that missing the point? Just surviving wasn’t good enough. What if the body remained unharmed, but the heart was wounded?

Wasn’t this him, coaxing a young Pope who didn’t fully understand the world, and throwing her into a dangerous place? Fin pursed his lips into a thin line, his expression serious.

“I formally object! The Pope shouldn’t have to experience anything like this!”

“No, Fin. It’s alright.”

The Pope said quietly,

“I am the Pope, and I must be a bridge between the Goddess and the faithful. So I must learn and experience much, to become a better person. That’s why….”

“You can learn that later. You don’t need to become an adult so early!”

“But I want to become an adult quickly. I’m already wearing the crown… So, I thought it was something I would have to do someday. That’s… how I learned it. The others will be expecting it, too.”

“……”

*Pat pat*. The Pope patted the back of Fin’s hand with her small hand. As if to say she was alright.

The Little Pope was extraordinary. It wasn’t something a child of her age would normally think. Speaking so resolutely, she seemed to be proving the reason for the Goddess’s choice herself.

If a paladin were sitting before her, they would respect the Little Pope’s resolve and say they would follow her will. They would help her achieve what she desired.

But.

But how could he be alright with it?

Fin saw the girl before him not as a Pope, but as a child, and so he could see the shadows hidden behind her extraordinary nature. Her resolve was shining, but not at all firm. Some of it… was dark.

The weight of duty, he knew it well. He had received the name of a hero, unfitting for his station. A weight no child should bear.

But, still, he couldn’t bring himself to deny the Pontiff’s decision.

And so, the solution Pin chose was to become a sort of filter himself.

Omelas was filthy. Too many complex and ugly things for a child to see. All those landmines… he would filter them out!

“You cannot wander alone. This Omelas is dangerous, so you must stay with me. I will absolutely not allow any solo excursions.”

“…Pin, will you protect me?”

“If not me, who will?”

“…………”

In this world, there were only the Little Pontiff and Pin. Of course, he was the only one who could protect her. That’s what Pin meant to say.

“Yes, if not Pin, who would protect me…”

The Little Pontiff smiled brightly.

Only Pin was unaware that she understood it differently.

—

The Little Pontiff, after hearing Pin’s two weeks of experiences (censored version), nodded her head and said,

“So, Pin works here as…a mercenary!”

“That is correct. Here, they call it being a Fixer. I listen to people’s small requests and earn money.”

“That’s a wonderful job. If you think about it as granting people’s wishes, it’s a little like being a Pontiff.”

“I can’t imagine such a comparison holds any water… Anyway, I should be heading out soon, Your Holiness. If anyone comes, do not open the door under any circumstance. Be sure to keep the curtains drawn.”

At this, the Pontiff jumped up and blocked Pin’s path. She even spread her arms wide. And asked,

“Could I come with you?”

“…Your body and your words seem to be speaking at cross-purposes.”

It wasn’t a request for permission, but more an expression of intention – that she wouldn’t move unless he took her. Pin hesitated for a moment… it was the first time the Pontiff had expressed a desire so strongly.

The Pontiff added one more word.

“I’ll be helpful. I can even use Divine Power, you know.”

“That is, indeed, true. Um…”

She had a point. And, in a way, leaving the Pontiff alone might be even more dangerous. Also… the Pontiff seemed a little afraid.

Yes. It was an unfamiliar world. It had taken Pin quite some time to adjust. To be left alone in such a world, without anyone she knew, would be terrifying. Then, they should move together.

Pin nodded, giving a warning.

“You must stay right by my side.”

“That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”

* * *

*Clack.* The Pope clung to him.

“⋯⋯⋯⋯.”

Finn began his workday with the Pope stuck to him like gum.

The neon signs blazed, and beyond the monitors, vendors flaunted their dazzling cutting-edge technology. But even so, the things that happened between people, they were the same no matter where you went.

And so were the requests.

The owner of the motel Finn called home, ‘Drunken Mama’, was a woman of considerable girth. She sat in a large chair as she made her request.

“Finn! You know my son works as a guard at *Utopia*, right? In the biggest building in the whole city, getting paid a fortune, no less!”

“You’ve told me dozens of times. I’m practically growing calluses on my ears.”

“Hehe! What can I do? You’re the only one who’ll listen to me brag. Anyway, my son said he wants a taste of his mama’s cooking for once. So, would you deliver this lunchbox for me?”

“You got it.”

Finn flipped his sunglasses up on his nose and accepted the request.

Standing beside him, little Pope gazed up at him wide-eyed, mimicking the motion of flipping something up.

“You got it! So your son can feel the warmth of family again, we’ll deliver it, no problem!”

“⋯⋯Finn, who is this child?”

“Th-that’s, uh… a cousin.”

“C-Cousin! My name is Vecchio. Nice to meet you.”

He bowed.

[REQUEST 1: Find ‘Drunken Mama’s’ son, Joe, at the *Utopia Industries* headquarters, and successfully deliver the lunchbox.]

And so, the two of them received their first request.