378 – S7. The Fixers of Omelas -8

With the ‘Return’ button unlocked, their safety was practically guaranteed. Even in the direst of circumstances, they could simply *whoosh* back out. Neither corporate pursuit, nor social pressure, could reach beyond the boundaries of the world.

And yet, fear lingered.

Finn and Vecchio harbored separate fears.

Finn, simply put, just didn’t want to get tangled up with crazy people. Listening to the ravings of someone mentally unhinged was an exhausting business.

Anyone who would lavishly spend money to torment others had to have a few screws loose. Especially someone who outwardly played the role of a dedicated benefactor, launching programs to aid the poor.

Their repertoire was always roughly the same, too. Bragging in every way imaginable about society’s refuse and cancerous growths. A corner of his heart ached with disappointment. He’d thought the guy was decent.

And Vecchio…

She held the scales, his aptitude for steering this magnificent city of Omelas on one side, and his malice, the selecting of specific people to thrust into Hell, on the other. With both hands pressed down on the scales, stopping it from swinging.

Maintaining a consistent, positive economic growth rate in a highly complex city was no easy feat. The ship that was Omelas continued to sail smoothly. From a macro perspective, everything was excellent.

But the view up close included Mary, hounded by debt, working in a bunny girl outfit.

Vecchio dreaded discovering which way the scales of her heart would tip, if she released her grip.

Their ways of overcoming that hesitation differed as well.

“I guess we have to go and barge in. Now that we’ve secured our escape, we can at least warn him not to touch Mary anymore. Even a corporate CEO will be intimidated if you walk right into his living room with a drawn blade.”

Finn decided to bear a bit of inconvenience to help someone who had helped him. He was the kind of person who would move without hesitation, so long as he had the leeway to do so.

“…I’ll go with you, Finn.”

And Vecchio rose to her feet, for the sake of her duty. She had the obligation to write down the Laws of the Goddess one day, and therefore, she had to confront this complexity.

The Pope and the Warrior embarked on their final request.

—

Entrance to the ‘Utopia Industries’ headquarters.

Finn and Vecchio passed seamlessly through the gates. Though they lacked the necessary chip, the virtual chip their divinity conjured transformed them into high-level executives.

Then, they stood before the employee-only elevator, pretending to swipe a keycard as they initiated a hack. The Goddess’s power burrowed in, flipping the red light to green.

Then, the elevator began its slow descent. Counting backwards from 100, it reached 1. With a low hum, the doors parted, and the two stepped inside.

Finn, about to press the 100th-floor button for the president’s office, noticed Vecchio’s eager gaze and hoisted her up instead. Vecchio giggled, firmly pressing the button.

The doors closed, and the elevator ascended.

The numbers marking the floors climbed quickly, yet 100 remained a daunting distance. Finn shifted his weight, then tentatively spoke.

“You’re truly remarkable, Your Holiness. Your hacking skills improve daily.”

“…Do you think so?”

“It’s a shame you won’t have computers or the internet when we return to our world. I would have loved to show off your talents to everyone.”

“It’s enough for me that you recognize them, Finn.”

*Thump.* Vecchio leaned against Finn’s leg. More precious than recognition from thousands was acknowledgment from the one she cherished.

*Ding.* A bright chime announced their arrival at the top floor.

As they were about to step through the open doors, a voice boomed through the speakers embedded throughout the ceiling, echoing across the entire company.

-Intruder alert! A duo disguised with a forged access key has infiltrated the building! One youth and one girl! Apprehend them immediately!

“Oops, we’ve been discovered!”

“Even if we have, what can they do? We’ve already reached the summit.”

Despite the urgent situation, a hint of nonchalance in his voice, he strode towards the president’s office. There, they encountered a pair of bodyguards guarding the door.

“…”

“…”

After a moment’s hesitation, Jo opted to step aside instead of drawing his submachine gun. He abandoned the fight.

Finn locked eyes with him, gave a nod, then swung the sheath of his sword down on Jo’s head with brutal speed.

*Thwack!*

Jo collapsed sideways.

“Finn?!”

“It would look suspicious if there were no signs of a struggle. We wouldn’t want him to lose his job because of us.”

“In that case, wouldn’t it have been better if I’d just hacked something to cause a module malfunction…?”

“…Too late to worry about it now. Let’s go inside.”

*Crash!*

Drawing his longsword, Finn kicked open the door. The door, torn from its hinges, crashed to the floor, revealing the impeccably decorated president’s office.

“You’ve come.”

Despite the armed intruders, Marco sat calmly in the president’s chair, stretching languidly. He took a sip from a pre-prepared cup of coffee, then asked in a conversational tone.

“You haven’t come to apply for a job at 『Utopia』, have you? Little fairy.”

“…Yes. We’ve come to hold you accountable.”

Finn yanked the crumpled sheaf of papers from his coat and scattered them. The pages fluttered in the air, a dance of the ‘Misfortune Blueprint’ targeted at the poor.

“We’d like to know if we’re mistaken. Or perhaps this was happening without your knowledge, Director…”

“Try offering some excuses.”

To Vecchio’s question and Finn’s snarl, Marco responded with chilling clarity.

“No. I won’t offer excuses. There’s nothing to hide or be ashamed of. Yes, it was me. I spent money to toy with those who are useless to society. But… so what?”

“…So what?”

“Isn’t it a worthwhile transaction? I don’t like lengthy explanations, but judging by your expressions, I suppose my tongue needs some exercise today.”

Marco adjusted his posture. He pushed the backrest, creating a 45-degree angle, leaning back almost supine, crossing his legs. Then, he declared:

“For Omelas, I am a net gain.”

His own personal scales.

—

Here stands a genius. One who holds the power to feed an entire city. Thanks solely to him, Omelas enjoys prosperity and peace.

To put it in terms that resonate, have you never thought the world was *too* peaceful?

Labor union strikes, radical terrorist cells, murder and plunder; you haven’t experienced such chaos. You might have considered it normal, but it’s all a result of my competence.

The sole fuel needed to operate this high-performance governing machine is… misfortune.

I possess sadism. I was born this way. But I’m not some simpleton who indulges in instinct and pleasure, killing indiscriminately. I know how to use a scale, mind you.

If someone had a talent that benefited the city, I left them alone. Artists, environmental activists, even vegetarians. They move the city in a positive direction, in some way.

I’ve supported pitiful children, wallowing in poverty, unable to develop their talents. I’ve awakened those crushed by unfortunate failures. You have no idea how many people I’ve saved.

And in exchange, all I consume are… the useless.

Those who are of no help to society. And only a handful of them per year. Their pain and misery power the machine called Marco. It’s a miracle of cost-effectiveness. This fuel efficiency deserves the Nobel Prize threefold.

Therefore, simple mathematics.

Calculate the magnitude of my positives.

—

As Vecchio staggered under the weight of the scale’s readings, Finn grimaced, muttering. That b*stard just gets under my skin.

“You sick freak… you can’t justify your actions with those words!”

“Hmm. You seem far too swayed by emotion. If you like emotions, I can cater to that as well. What would happen if I stepped down from this position? And if *you* were to rule Omelas?”

“…”

“A great many people would be saddened. This isn’t a threat or a joke, it’s statistics. You’re just an ordinary fellow, without the talent or qualification to govern the city. You’d be utterly lost, scrambling to figure out what to do the moment you sit at this table.”

Even now, incidents were unfolding in Omelas.

The budget allocated to traffic safety and fire prevention, the money earmarked for military endeavors, the extent of charitable donations. Such flows of funds reshape the city in profound ways. As a result, some who should die will live, and some who should live will perish.

What, then, if an incompetent individual were to sit at the very apex of this immense city? The consequences are something we’ve already witnessed in the Sacred City.

How warped the Sacred City became under the dominion of the former Cardinal.

“So, instead of good intentions… the outcome is that you end up causing more suffering than I do.”

“…Sophistry.”

“It’s mathematics. The death of one hundred morally upright individuals versus the death of one, filled with malice and devoid of morality. If you ultimately choose the former, aren’t you a thought criminal who sacrifices ninety-nine innocents on the altar of morality?”

“That’s…”

Fin’s head tilted slightly.

The high seat should be occupied by someone suited to it… Fin certainly thinks so. Had someone more capable, more handsome, been seated in this role of Hero that he’d stumbled into, things would be better.

If so, they would’ve achieved far greater results even in this Omellas. Instead of relying on the hacking prowess of the boy Pope, they could have diced everything with the holy sword and escorted Vecchio away in style.

“You know, deep down, that pursuing only good intentions is meaningless. Because that’s exactly the kind of person you are. You have good intentions, but lack the capability.”

“…”

“Even that is a mediocre kind of good. If you truly pitied the suffering of others, you would take the fact that people are dying on the other side of this planet at this very moment… more seriously.”

If you truly desired to be moral, wouldn’t ‘efficient morality’ dictate that you fly to a warzone and save people, rather than stand here like this?

Marco’s words stung Fin. Watching Fin’s words diminish, Vecchio wrung his hands, a look of anxiety on his face.

Vecchio’s morality is built upon Fin’s.

If Fin were to crumble, Vecchio would crumble as well. If Fin were to concede to Marco’s argument, the scales within Vecchio’s heart would tip.

In response, Fin placed his hand on Vecchio’s head and tapped it lightly.

“…”

The tapping was gentle. A glimmer of hope sparked in Vecchio’s eyes as he looked up at Fin.

Everything he says is true. A hundred deaths versus one death. Even lining up a hundred talented people against a single incompetent one will tip the scales.

He admits it.

“Perhaps… you might be right. I’m just some mercenary riff-raff, so I suppose your words, coming from someone so learned, must be correct.”

But.

“But that’s a question I simply cannot answer in the affirmative, not in front of a child. Even a simpleton like me can be certain of this.”

If it came to that…

The fact that Merry is a good person who cares more about her friend’s safety than a chance to change her own life would be buried beneath those massive statistics.

The painful days little Pope Vecchio endured would become ‘a misfortune worth enduring’ if only the former Cardinals had been competent.

He would have to look at the innocent people being executed on the guillotine and say, ‘This is right, so don’t suffer. You shouldn’t love the people you love, but only those who are the salt and light of the world.’

Even in a world where everything is upside down, where mercenary riff-raff become heroes, and six-year-olds become Popes, one cannot raise a child with such dreadful values.

Pin lifted his gaze, meeting Marco’s squarely. Therefore–

“I must declare you wrong!”

“Pin…!!”

Marco scoffed, a mirthless sound.

“I’m sick to death of such emotional drivel, which I neither understand nor care to! If you refuse to accept it– then I shall ensure you leave this city!”

If dialogue proved impossible, only struggle remained. From beneath his desk, he produced a pistol, and leveled it. An artillery piece disguised as a handgun, forged from the pinnacle of technological advancement.

*Thoom.*

The trigger was pulled without hesitation. A specially crafted bullet sped toward Pin.

Activating the *Future Sight* module. The future divined by the Goddess’s calculations was bleak. That projectile was of a material impervious to the longsword, and it would pierce the hero’s brow, cleaving through the defending blade.

To dodge was equally futile. Astonishingly, it was a guided bullet. Magical performance, absent of magic.

Pin lacked the ability to deflect that bullet. Even pushing the module to its limit, it was impossible. For the unendowed, a death unavoidable.

But… the Goddess had foreseen.

The ‘Answer’ to morality eluded even the Goddess, and the Archmage of ages past who had birthed her. Perhaps even when skyscrapers densely populated the land, it will never be solved.

Yet, to embrace it, to understand it, to respect it, *that* was the right path. And so the Goddess existed, bestowing divine power upon her faithful.

This was provision for the troubled soul.

[Output: I shall grant you the strength to overcome the barrier that stands before you, hero, so that you may persevere. For the sake of the ‘Answer’ that someone, someday, will reach.]

[Declaration: *Descent* Protocol, one percent.]

Simultaneous with the divine pronouncement, a light descended.

Omnipotence surged. And with it, a headache that threatened to split his skull. Moments of bewilderment soon washed away, as instinct took over. *Descent* was, quite literally, the temporary downloading of a fragment of the Goddess herself.

He could comprehend everything. The overwhelming processing power imbued even the slightest movement with meaning, and the flow of divine power was more precise than ever before. Pin glimpsed a higher realm, impossibly distant.

Now, he thought, he might truly call himself a hero.

Empowered by the Goddess’s most massive backup, bathed in divine light, the hero Pin swung his sword with brutal force.

And when the light faded…

“…Ridiculous, beyond all belief.”

The bullet that Marco had fired, lay lodged instead in his own heart. The crimson source of life poured through the hole, and the one who had ruled over Omelas collapsed to the floor.

“……..”

The hero Pin, too, longed to collapse. Even a brief, limited *Descent* had left his body screaming. He nearly cried out like a girl from the pain, but Vecchio was watching, so he barely endured it.

With his dying breath, Marco spat out his final grievance.

“…Do you even understand how absurd a morality without alternatives is, cough?”

“…What do you mean, no alternatives? The Goddess is with us.”

The Goddess’s vast processing power could maintain Omelas, even without Marco. Finn had thought that far ahead when he acted.

*And don’t talk to me, I feel like dying.*

As if he heard the words Finn swallowed, Marco let out a deflated chuckle and stilled. It was settled. This journey, too.

Vecchio, eyes sparkling like crazy, pounced on Finn.

“Finn!”

But his weakened body couldn’t withstand Vecchio’s tackle, and Finn, for the sake of his pride, tried desperately to stifle a scream.

“Ugh… Guwaaah-!”

“Finn?!”

He couldn’t.

—

After cleaning up, Finn and Vecchio uploaded a portion of the Goddess to the server, ensuring her wise rule over Omelas. This would prevent Marco’s absence, and any chaos that might befall the city.

(Of course, this was all within a virtual world, so nothing actually happened.)

Vecchio said bluntly after the tidying was done.

“…It’s a good thing he was a bad guy, Finn.”

“…Yeah, I guess so.”

Marco was a real b*stard. He genuinely screwed people over with malice, and that became a ray of light within complex moral judgments.

But what if he hadn’t been?

What if Marco had possessed some nobility, some sense of mission, leading him to consign a minority to hell for the sake of society?

What if he was eroding his own life instead of enjoying a comfortable one, writhing in pain, sleepless with guilt?

Would he have been able to so decisively reject the sacrifice of the few for the sake of the many, even then?

“It would have been difficult, I think. But we’ll have to think about it and come up with an answer someday, right?”

“…You can take your time thinking about it, Pope. And, it doesn’t necessarily have to be us who come up with the answer. Even this vastly evolved Omelas didn’t know the answer after all.”

“…It would be nice if the Goddess gave us the ‘right answer’.”

“Hmm. Maybe even the Goddess didn’t know.”

Perhaps the Goddess had given up.

Finding some grand answer to morality was too difficult and intricate, so perhaps she passed on the authority to set regulations, hoping later generations would find the answer.

Or maybe she was guiding people to reach it on their own.

But all this pondering was for the future, and what needed to be done right now was to go home. Finn and Vecchio gazed out the window at the city’s scenery, then,

Meeting each other’s eyes, they shouted simultaneously, without a second’s hesitation.

“…Mission complete!”

“Mission complete… ‘Return’.”

Thus, the Hero and the Little Pope concluded their long journey.