Chapter 76
Chapter 76
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 76
Chapter Title: Do Androids Pray to the Cybernetic Heaven? (6)
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Before a cold concrete floor and the back alley wall overgrown with damp moss, people knelt in a row.
"Please... please spare us..."
"We did wrong... we did wrong..."
Pleas and sobs mingled in the humid air. Some muttered meaningless words, while others clasped their hands in desperate prayer.
Still others simply trembled, lost in utter despair, having resigned themselves to their fate.
A man stood calmly before them, a cigarette dangling from his lips.
He glanced around and asked,
"Is this the last of the 9th Street tin cans?"
The mercenaries encircling the alley replied,
"Yes, sir."
The man gave a small nod, then spoke nonchalantly to those on their knees.
"Alright, everyone, pay attention."
He held up a photo. It showed the face of a blonde, blue-eyed girl who looked about ten years old.
"Anyone seen this tin kid? Raise your hand."
"......"
"......."
No one answered. The terrified people only stole glances at one another.
"No one?"
The man smacked his lips in boredom.
"Strike out, huh. Let these ones go."
He gestured to his men, and hope instantly bloomed on the captives' faces.
It was the brief flicker of survival's possibility.
Click—
Joy turned to bone-white terror in an instant. What loomed before their eyes was no escape, but pitch-black gun barrels.
The people began to beg desperately.
"W-wait a second!"
"We'll do anything! Anything! Just spare our lives—"
But before the words could finish, sharp gunfire filled the alley.
Tat-tat-tang—!
Along with belatedly clattering casings, limp bodies crumpled to the ground.
Beneath the sprawled corpses, sticky orange hydraulic fluid pooled thickly. Tears still streaked their faces as the light faded from their eyes.
The man muttered indifferently at the sight.
"They always pull this crap. Why bother fake-crying at the end? Ruins the aftertaste."
He spat his cigarette to the ground and ground it out.
"Alright, let's move. We've got work to do."
With those words, unhesitating footsteps faded away into the alley's mouth.
In the shadows left by the departing mercenaries, beyond the freshly fallen bodies, countless more corpses lay piled high, their fluids long since dried.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ A few days later, I sat down again with the director of the cathedral orphanage.
"How has Clarice been lately?"
She hesitated at my question.
"Ah, Saintess. There's something I need to tell you about that."
What came from the director's mouth was an unexpected story.
Clarice had started to be treated as an outsider by the other children her age.
"Pardon? Why is that?"
"She was getting along fine until now... but apparently, a few kids saw her when she fell down recently. So..."
Children are sharper than adults give them credit for.
It was about how the kids had realized Clarice was somehow 'different' from them.
The director let out a worried sigh.
"If it were outright bullying, I could scold them and teach them better... but this kind of thing is so hard for adults to intervene in."
In children's societies, they instinctively shun anything 'different' from themselves. That aversion was inevitable. Forcing them to suppress their instincts and stick together would only make things worse.
Of course, I knew the solution. Adults just needed to teach them. Difference isn't wrong, and the excluded friend is just as much a person as anyone else. Guide them through experiences until they naturally accepted it.
But... how could I convey a conviction I didn't even possess myself?
"......."
As I lapsed into thought once more, the director changed the subject.
"Oh, right. We had chapel class yesterday."
As was common for welfare facilities run by religious groups, they included simple religious education for the children here too.
She pulled a sheet of paper from her drawer and handed it over.
"The theme this time was writing letters. Letters to God about what they wanted to say. Clarice wrote one too—would you like to read it?"
I nodded without thinking.
The paper held a letter scrawled in childish, uneven handwriting.
I read it quietly.
To Lord Radiance. Hello, it's Clarice. You hear my prayers every night, right?
Thank you so much for letting me live here. The teachers are all so kind, and the bed is warm. It's starting to feel like a real home now. The teachers say it's all thanks to Your grace. Thank you.
But the writing began to reveal the child's growing worries.
But Lord Radiance, I have a question. Why am I a little different from the other kids?
A few days ago, I fell while playing and scraped my knee. The other kids cried because it hurt, but I didn't feel a thing. I didn't cry either. Instead of red blood, this weird oil-like stuff came out a little.
After they saw that, the kids seem to be avoiding me. Yesterday, one called me a robot. They asked, 'How can a robot believe in God?' For some reason, those words hurt way more than the fall. Weird, right?
But I didn't get mad. The teacher said we have to do good deeds to go to heaven. So I just forgave them.
If that's not enough, I'll do even more good deeds. I'll help my friends more than now and listen to the teachers better. Then I really can go to heaven too, right?
If not... if You say androids can't go to heaven no matter how many good deeds they do, like real people...
Why can we pray at all?
"......."
I had just finished the letter's final line.
Bang!
The office door flew open with a loud crash. A pale-faced caregiver burst in, shouting,
"Saintess! Big trouble!"
The director and I turned to her at once.
"What happened...?"
"Clarice...! She's gone from the classroom! We've searched everywhere near the cathedral, but she's nowhere...!"
Before I could even process the letter, my heart sank.
I asked in a trembling voice,
"What do you mean...? Don't tell me she was kidnapped?!"
"No. A child said they saw Clarice leave the cathedral on her own."
I muttered in bewilderment,
"She... left by herself...?"
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Children are far sharper than adults think.
Especially those without anyone to rely on—the more prematurely mature, the less proper guardians they have, the truer it rings.
They have to be quick on the uptake to earn even a scrap of praise, avoid abandonment, and survive.
So Clarice had realized it long ago.
The adults' worried faces. Their grave tones. The sidelong glances at the girl.
It all felt familiar somehow.
Once again, she was making things difficult for people because of her.
A child made to be loved. But that very love often left wounds around her.
Through the clumsily erased memory data, fragmented recollections surfaced.
A kind grandfather who had held her tenderly, dragged away by sudden intruders.
A man and woman trying to escape with her somewhere, cut down by bullets.
All the adults who had cherished her until now had ended the same way.
"......."
In truth, the girl loved the cathedral.
She'd grown a bit distant from her peers, but the teachers and priests still doted on her endlessly. Even the pretty big-sister Saintess, who seemed like someone incredibly important, always paid attention to her.
That's why it scared her. That these good people here might end up just like the adults in her memories.
So that night, while the teachers slept, the girl quietly slipped out of the cathedral.
For everyone's sake. To be a good child.
Even though she was a little afraid, she mustered her courage.
Cold night air seeped through her thin clothes, but the girl's steps didn't stop.
"Haa..."
A hazy word lingered in her mind like a signpost: free city, Sion. Unfamiliar yet familiar. Drawn by some inexplicable instinct that she could reunite with her lost family there, Clarice pressed on.
This suburb had once been a lawless zone where a naive child wandering at night wouldn't make ten steps before vanishing. Security had improved since the church settled in, but it was still too dangerous for a child alone.
So her misfortune was, in a way, inevitable.
As she stared blankly up at the garish neon signs, a strong hand shot out from the alley and seized her arm.
She was dragged into the darkness before she could resist.
"Got her."
A low, rough voice, and rough-looking men emerged like shadows to surround her.
One grabbed her hair roughly and meticulously compared her face to the photo in his hand.
"......Match confirmed. This just got easier. Lucky break."
The man muttered in satisfaction, then whispered into the comm device on his wrist.
"Target secured. Blonde hair, blue eyes. Pediatric-model android, around ten years old. Appearance matches."
A urgent voice crackled back from the receiver.
["Core code? You confirm the core code?"]
"Connecting to her system now. Firewall breach imminent. What next?"
["Code's the priority. Once we have it, trash the shell."]
"Understood."
The brief comm ended, and the man's cold gaze turned to the child.
She trembled helplessly in their grip the whole time.
A snake-like voice slithered chillingly into Clarice's ear.
"Shh, no need to be so scared, little tin can. We'll just do our business and let you go. Uncle's not bad guys, okay?"
It was a brazen lie, after letting her hear their whole conversation.
But there was nothing the girl could do now.
The iron grip twisting her hair, the brute force crushing her shoulder. Not even the slightest struggle was allowed.
Soon, another mercenary connected a port and cable to the back of her neck, then sat nearby fiddling with a terminal.
"About fifteen minutes."
"Good, good."
The leader hummed tunelessly, but his eyes coldly scanned the surroundings.
"Keep watch tight. Those crazy cult freaks might show up again."
"Got it."
The mercenaries took up disciplined positions at his order.
Heavy armament, sharp gazes, trained movements— a chilling aura emanated from them.
"......"
In the midst of it all, a single clear tear rolled down the terrified girl's cheek.
Deep down... she had known it would end like this.
Children are far sharper than adults think. Clarice knew full well the danger she was in.
But if she hadn't slipped away now, these scary people would have tracked her to the cathedral eventually. Then far more people would have gotten hurt. The kind priests, nuns, teachers... everyone would have bled.
So in her mind, it was the right choice.
She'd gathered her courage to protect everyone. She'd done a good deed.
'So... can I go to heaven now too?'
The girl was about to offer her final prayer.
That's when a lookout mercenary at the alley mouth spoke up.
"Leader, something's over the—"
Kwang—
He flew into the air like he'd been hit by a car.
"W-what the hell!"
The mercenaries panicked at the sudden event.
In that moment, as multiple gazes turned toward it...
"......."
From the shadows deep in the alley, cold golden eyes gleamed.