BATTER 17

By this point, he realized that even if all of this android’s eyewitness accounts were perjury, it wouldn’t really matter. The being was easy, comfortable, and fragile, so even if he were hiding a cunning plan, it was fine. He would simply shift from being a witness to being evidence. Wickedly, Baron felt a sense of relief at this thought.

Considering he was having such eccentric thoughts, it seemed the stupid android’s prescription was actually working. Baron chuckled quietly.

“Sure. I love you too.”

A hollow, peaceful smile spread across his face. Along with those cheap, easy, and empty words. Since laughter and words cannot be held in one’s hand, they were as indistinct and easily scattered as their meanings—just like how “Bijou” was merely a form of greeting rather than an expression of love laden with deep significance. It was a well-chosen name: Bijou.

However, since the heat from the machine bearing that name was a distinct physical reaction, Baron enjoyed a warmth that did not cool for a long time. The warmth remained by his side without leaving, even after dawn had passed.

Installing program …

Installation complete.

Commencing operation.

Pleased to meet you.

Please enter my name for more convenient calling.

MOTHER

Would you like to delete the program?

Deleting program …

Deletion complete.

The pillow beneath his head was damp. Baron realized he had fallen asleep without even knowing it. Perhaps he had been hot during the night, as a bit of sweat soaked the back of his neck and his back. He noticed that the head that had been pressing against his chest all night was gone.

What kind of kid doesn’t sleep in? But then he remembered Bijou wasn’t a kid, but a machine, and machines don’t sleep to begin with. He sat up groggily, licking the sour taste in his mouth, when the door suddenly swung wide open. His hand reflexively gripped his pistol.

“The current time is 8:30 AM. Time for breakfast!”

It was only a second later that he realized there was no need for that. The diligent android stood proudly in the doorway holding an energy bar. Baron let out a sigh and lowered his gun again.

“When did you go out? I didn’t even realize you were up.”

“I did not sleep in order to prepare for emergencies.”

“Are you even capable of sleeping?”

“All S2-line androids support a sleep mode. Now, please eat.”

An energy bar and a cup of coffee—a meager excuse for a meal—were pressed into his hand. It seemed he had at least gone through the trouble of peeling off the plastic wrapper himself.

“Ah, out of all these products, this is the flavor I like best. How’d you know to pick this one?”

“I purchased the product with the highest sales volume.”

“You’ve got sense. But did you have money on you?”

“I borrowed your wallet for a moment!”

Before he could even ask whose wallet, Bijou slid a wallet in front of his face. The familiar shape was a perfect match for his own. Ah, my wallet. Baron let out a hearty laugh as he took it back.

“You’re quite talented.”

“Thank you!”

“Next time, at least tell me before you take it.”

“Acknowledged!”

He really had no idea when it had been taken. Should he give the guy credit for being that skilled, or was he just that deep asleep? Baron devoured the energy bar—which he had paid for without knowing—in three bites. After rinsing his mouth with the bad-tasting coffee, he walked over to the hunk of scrap metal that had been lying quietly all night. As he poked through the relatively intact parts, Bijou suddenly poked his head out from beside him.

“Is there something more you wish to examine?”

“Well, it’s not so much ‘examining’ as… something I want to verify.”

Baron scrutinized the humanoid’s external structure. His lazily drooping eyes looked merely tired, but the brown eyes hidden behind them were sparkling with interest as he observed the humanoid’s parts.

An overall dark gray surface, a smooth texture, weld marks on the right arm. The number of remaining bullets, the dried mud on the soles of its feet. Gradually, the corners of his mouth curled in, revealing sharp teeth. Baron spoke as he pulled Bijou’s shoulder closer.

“Darling. I’m going to tell you something especially good.”

His voice sounded like a boy who had discovered a magnificent marble while digging through sand. Bijou leaned his temple against Baron’s shoulder and blinked. A faint sense of enjoyment permeated Baron’s following words.

“Some idiots think a secret is kept as long as they don’t speak. But the moment they’re caught, it’s the same as if they’re telling everything.”

No phenomenon arises by itself as a single attribute or an individual entity. Once thrown into the real world, nothing can escape the loom of cause and effect. It’s the same as how a single loose thread disrupts the pattern of the rest of the warp and weft.

“He only spoke twice, but it was total military slang. Not to mention the self-destruct function. It looks like the guys who tried to ambush you made off with a military robot. Probably a recent acquisition, too.”

Now, he grabbed the end of the thread and pulled.

“Are you saying this humanoid is a recently developed model? However, judging by the overall design and the shape of the socket, there seems to be insufficient evidence to conclude it is a new robot.”

“Exactly. If it were a top-of-the-line model, the military would guard it so closely that it’d be nearly impossible to steal. And if a tin can that gets neutralized by two shots is the latest model, then the United States is in real trouble. So, speaking hopefully, it’s likely quite old. And humanoid soldiers—ha! They’ve been out of the field for ages. Their human comrades couldn’t handle ‘the death of a robot friend.’ So, for about half a century now, the military has preferred non-organic designs. They might use humanoid forms in certain cases, sure. But there’s a high probability this guy is a piece of scrap metal that’s at least fifty years older. He’d be a big brother to you, darling.”

His tone was somewhat cynical when mentioning “the death of a robot friend.” Bijou waited without opening his mouth, as if prompting him to say more.

“People are surprisingly fond of their robots. A product name is enough, but they insist on giving them names. Just like dogs or cats. It’s the same with back-alley gangs. Even they can’t help but find a little Chihuahua adorable. Anyway, even guys who belong in prison develop attachments to those they’ve interacted with for a long time. Humans are the type to imbue meaning into every single car or stuffed animal. Imagine how painful it would be to give a self-destruct command to a humanoid you’ve had for a long time?”

“I accept the fact that this humanoid is an old military robot. I believe it is a valid deduction. However, using the owner’s affection for a machine as a basis feels somewhat sentimental, a leap in logic, and prone to generalization.”

“Oh, a valid point, Watson.”

Baron replied with a mock British accent and gave a wink to “Watson” Bijou, who was becoming intermittently sharp.

“Look at the body as a whole. It’s been repainted. It’s partly to cover minor cosmetic flaws, but… generally, dealers repaint items before putting them on the market to hide the fact that what they’re selling is smuggled or stolen goods, even if it’s just a lazy cover-up. You take a look this time.”

Bijou picked up one of the humanoid’s arms and turned it this way and that. If one felt it carefully, there were some slightly indented parts, but the metal arm painted dark gray was smooth overall.

“Phenol-modified alkyd resin paint was used to coat the surface. It is a paint with good hardness but poor weather resistance. Yet, there are almost no marks where the paint has been scratched or peeled off.”

As he reported his observations, Baron made a cheerful ringing sound like a quiz show host.

“Ding-dong! Correct. It’s a humanoid used for ambushes, so it’s definitely strange that there are no scratches on the paint. Getting tossed around and hit is part of the daily routine. It was repainted recently.”

“It is a plausible theory given the lack of weather resistance in that paint. However, what about the possibility that it was painted in the past, kept in a warehouse, and activated late?”