Will Bates' Flavorless Utopia
Will Bates' future, Will Bates' Earth humanity. ……………
Coming face-to-face with Will Bates up close, I realize something. There's still no flavor of emotion from this man. Just like I thought—a blank slate without a lid or a pot. That's spot on. But I sense something else beyond emotions. Willpower. A steel-like resolve forged by melting down even his own feelings. What goal has driven this man this far? What is he striving to reach, even at the cost of burning away his own emotions?
I'm dying to know. But there's no way to ask.
Will Bates might be able to withstand my voice. But if he can't? That iron will of his would crumble like a sandcastle before the waves. I want to avoid that at all costs.
Will Bates, locking eyes with me, adjusts his glasses with a hand.
"I see. At present, I have no means to resist you."
His voice is utterly flat. Not the kind that would emerge from a situation where eleven elite bodyguards are rolling naked on the deck.
"Who are you? Why are you cooperating with the Korean government's Threat Management Agency?"
I'm an existence from beyond the observable universe—a fragment broken off from the main body. Koreans call me Alpha Outer God. I haven't exactly cooperated with the Agency, but somehow I've ended up attached to that redheaded girl and the pink-haired magical girl behind me. Whoops, that might sound like I'm freeloading at Sword Master Ko's place in Ssangmun-dong like that psychic green dinosaur. Don't get the wrong idea. Unlike that guy who mooches off radio waves, I'm just on an indefinite, unsecured, interest-free, no-guarantee loan.
...That's what I want to say, but since I can't speak, I just look up at Will Bates.
Nearly thirty seconds pass with my mouth firmly shut, and Will Bates seems to interpret the silence in his own way.
"Just as the intel states. Presumed intelligent lifeform, but a threat entity incapable of higher communication."
Oh? He knew and asked anyway. Testing me, huh? To cross-verify the info that I don't use verbal language.
"However, it appears you do understand language."
Will Bates fixes his gaze on my pupils.
"You didn't answer the question, but your eye-tracking patterns during the conversation match those of an intelligent being cognizant of dialogue."
This guy read my eye movements while questioning me?
[That's creepy......]
The glasses-wearing thought muttered inside my inner world.
[That man just judged your language comprehension from your eye movements alone. His computational power surpasses the combined total of every human you've met so far.]
Will Bates moves straight to the next phase.
"Assuming you understand human language, I propose a negotiation. Cooperate with Microgenics. If that's difficult, simply not interfering would suffice."
Negotiation, huh. So what does he plan to offer me? Infinite snacks?
"The reward is humanity's advancement."
...Humanity's advancement? I don't really want that. If it came with a heartfelt pat on the head, maybe I'd consider it.
I tilt my head, and Will Bates begins his explanation.
"Of Earth's current 8 billion population, only 23 percent possess productivity sufficient to contribute to humanity. The rest are mired in irrational decisions and repetitive resource waste."
Hmm, "productivity sufficient to contribute to humanity." Probably means at least full-time workers in middle-income countries or above.
"Microgenics will strip away unnecessary emotions from all 8 billion humans. Fear, sloth, hatred, envy. All noise hindering productivity will be deleted, forcing each individual to live as a cog in the singular goal of humanity's advancement."
Turning all 8 billion into cogs. That's quite the scale.
"Resources wasted on unnecessary consumer goods will be redirected to core industries. Social losses from emotional conflicts will vanish, and birth rates will recover under precise family planning."
Will Bates looks down at me through his silver-framed glasses. Still no flavor of emotion.
"Humanity, aging slowly, will grow young again. After fully developing Earth, we advance beyond this planet into the universe."
I see. Hearing his pitch, I get a rough sense of who Will Bates is. A man who burned even his own emotions for humanity. And one who forces the same "efficient choice" on all other humans—artificial emotion deletion and subjugation to him.
But here's the thing. Is what this old guy's saying really possible?
I toss the question to my smart thought minions.
...Huh? Normally, they'd jump in pretending to know the moment I asked, but no response comes. The landscape of my inner world is eerily still.
The doctor-coated thought and glasses-wearing thought stand side by side before a massive blackboard. It's crammed with population dynamics models, resource allocation diagrams, tech progress curves, connected by hundreds of arrows and variables like a spiderweb. Both have their arms crossed, utterly motionless.
Hey, you listening?
The doctor-coated thought speaks without taking his eyes off the board.
[......It's entirely feasible.]
His voice sounds different from usual. He's pretty shocked, it seems.
[If executed as that man plans, by the 23rd century, humanity will expand beyond the solar system to other star systems.]
The glasses-wearing thought points to a number at the far end of the timeline on the board.
[By the 27th century, humanity becomes the galaxy's dominant power. Around the 32nd century, they'll conquer the entire Milky Way.]
[......Intergalactic expansion would require recalculation after that.]
Conquering the galaxy? Earth humanity? The little thoughts gape up at the board. They don't get the details, but they sense it's insane.
Anyway. A humanity conquering the galaxy—impressive future.
But that future has one prerequisite. Like Will Bates himself, like his subordinates. All 8 billion humans must have their emotions incinerated and submit to his control.
I imagine Earth after Will Bates' plan succeeds. A world of suffocating efficiency. 8 billion humans with emotions deleted and controlled. All in identical gray work uniforms, waking at set times, sleeping at set times. Society runs 24/7 without pause. Everyone chews three daily rations of nutrient blocks, works their allotted hours, returns home, and passes out.
Efficient, sure. No waste.
But that world has no magical girl comics like Yi Gyu-rin showed me. No Elden Ring, no Trials Flying, no no-hit challenges that had the otaku's eyes bulging. All entertainment not contributing to humanity's advancement deemed waste and scrapped.
No Three Run Balls. No Emperor Choco Pie. No Durian Chewy Cookies either. Snacks are just resource waste not contributing to productivity.
The humanity ascent curve on the inner world's blackboard. Beneath it, everything humans create to be human—the miscellaneous, inefficient, useless stuff—is burned to ash and scattered.
All 8 billion reduced to the cardboard-flavored energy bars from that vending machine earlier. That's Will Bates' Earth humanity.
A flavorless world. A planet where no emotions can be felt anywhere. I hate it.
Humanity that abandons being human? As a gourmet, I absolutely cannot tolerate that dystopia.
Will Bates. Should I erase him here? A few strands of hair would do. In 0.01 seconds, I could turn that man into a 3-centimeter cube pile.
The first moment my mind tilts toward harming a human.
"――You think I'd let you?!"
A shout cuts across the deck. The owner: Yeom Hana. Freed from her six subdued guards now unconscious, she stands tall on the deck, glaring at Will Bates.
"Humans aren't ants! We have the freedom to do what we want, live how we want!"
I look up at Yeom Hana's face. It's a mess. Lips split and bleeding, eyes filled with pain and fatigue. Her emotional flavors churn wildly. Terror at the future Will Bates showed. Rage at the arrogance treating others' lives like machine parts.
But at the center of that chaotic emotional vortex burns fierce willpower. No matter what, she'll stop that man with her own hands.
Ah. That expression on Yeom Hana's face right now, those emotions. I've felt them before. The day Tera Chad appeared downtown, in the ready room before deployment—the faces of the agents. Knowing inescapable death awaited, yet silently grabbing their weapons and marching out. Human emotions like that.
My thinking shifts a bit.
If I kill Will Bates right now, it'd be simple. Over in the blink of an eye, faster than snapping my fingers.
But doing that would steal the fight my attachment humans need to shoulder themselves. Like an adult solving a kid's workbook from start to finish. The kid might like it now—head cleared. But really, it's robbing them of the chance to solve problems and grow.
And intervening in this fight would be unfair to Will Bates too. He's sincere. He's burned even his own emotions, devoting everything to humanity's advancement. Right or wrong, the time, resources, and will he's poured in are real.
If a guy like that gets one-shot by something like me out of nowhere— all that effort would feel too hollow.
Hmm, better let the humans handle it among themselves. Instead, I'll help make sure my attachment humans don't die.
Yeom Hana kicks off the deck. The Neutronium Suit's red glow intensifies another level as she lunges at Will Bates—
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
The bulkheads below deck open. Countless figures emerge from the darkness. Identical gray suits, identical blank expressions. And glowing red pupils.
Bodyguards of the same specs as the eleven I knocked out earlier.
Oh no. Wait, this isn't good.