BATTER 25

“S2-2 always prioritizes human life. It is like a simple math problem. If you count me as one human unit, and the ten children out there as ten, then saving them provides ten times the benefit.”

Even when asked again, the one with the rosy lips did not hesitate, nor did he lie. Bijou possessed a rigid, fastidious standard that animals do not have. The teacher, neither smiling nor frowning but simply hovering with her mouth slightly agape, hadn’t quite shed her suspicion—though that feeling was directed at Baron, not Bijou.

Perhaps it was because she considered human decisions to be more secretive and fickle than those of a machine. Baron gripped the snowy, dove-like shoulder lightly before loosening his hold, as if releasing a well-raised bird. He directed a hearty laugh toward the teacher, as if to offer encouragement.

“I figured as much. Things worked out great, teach!”

“No, wait…”

Some matters resolve themselves with such ease that one doesn’t even have time to be surprised. The teacher, seeing all her problems vanish in an instant, turned pale and then flushed red every other second. She continued to press him for answers even as Baron clapped her repeatedly on the shoulder.

“R—really? You don’t need anything, it’s just… over like this?”

“Need something? Car repair costs? Hey, don’t you need anything?”

Baron signaled with his eyes. He wouldn’t be able to collect on the car repairs until she received the 100 million in cash, and as always, the machine had no selfish desires, but it was a question asked out of politeness. Whatever the intent, Bijou answered as if he had been waiting for the prompt.

“Would it be possible to monitor the progress of the injuries for the rest of the day? The swelling from the fracture will gradually worsen, and symptoms of head trauma do not always appear immediately, so additional observation is required.”

The teacher, who had been gaping silently, finally let out a faint laugh. Have it your way. Thus, the two men gained the right to freely use container number six until the following day. Things had turned out well indeed.

Feeling the sheer absurdity of life, Baron—having secured limited residential rights to a shipping container—brought over his vehicle with its pulverized windows. When he parked behind the containers, a few of the runts shuffled out hesitantly. When he asked if they liked cars, they said they only liked cool ones. Cute little flatterers.

Traditionally, praise for a man’s car or house is the same as praise for the man himself. Baron piled the unobservant brats into the car and took them for a spin around Edge Street. Though it must have been a scenery they saw every day, the cheers were quite generous. Even without him prompting them, they babbled on about this and that—apparently, one of them dreamed of becoming a car. Strange coincidence; that used to be his dream, too.

By the time they were getting out, he jokingly told them to pay the fare, which threw them into a deep state of contemplation. The kids ended up giving him two yellow rubber bands as payment. It was a terrible deal for him. When he trudged back holding the two rubber bands, Bijou was covered in noisy little monkeys clinging to every limb.

“Whoa, I thought a fruit tree had sprouted. Can you handle all that?”

“I am still two kilograms away from my maximum load capacity.”

“Uh, right. Want me to help? Got it.”

Baron grabbed the kids one by one by the scruff of their necks and peeled them off. After just one car ride, the children’s guard had dropped significantly. They were at least comfortable enough to giggle even while dangling from Baron’s hands. Baron bent down low for a long time to look at the giggling faces.

“Do you guys sleep while clinging to things, too? Are you monkeys or sloths?”

“We’re not sloths. We’re people.”

“Then why are you hanging on? People sleep lying down.”

“We’re good at lying down, too.”

“Is that so? I’m good at lying down, too. Probably better than you. Because I’m an adult.”

Even if they were raised in test tubes and water tanks, kids are kids; burning with competitive spirit, the runts screamed almost simultaneously.

“I’m better at lying down!”

“Then have a match with me. Let’s see who’s better at staying down.”

Baron lay back on the ground with a sly grin. If it involves smooth-talking, leave it to Baron. It’ll work out somehow. As he began to count out loud, everyone flopped onto the floor without needing to be told twice. Bijou, glancing around at the others, also lay down modestly with his hands clasped. Before long, the sound of rhythmic breathing could be heard.

“Ah, finally some peace and quiet.”

Baron sat up, feeling proud of himself. At that, Bijou, who was still wide awake, spoke from his spot on the floor.

“You are in last place.”

“What?”

“Because you were the first to get up.”

He blinked his innocent eyes. Baron let out a huff of laughter and readjusted his sitting position.

“I was just trying to get the kids to sleep. It’s a stupid game.”

“Was it? I didn’t know. Everyone has fallen asleep, so there is nothing left to do.”

“That’s good. You can just do whatever you want to do.”

Bijou, who had been looking at Baron, turned his head toward the ceiling. Then, he suddenly began to speak.

“Thy fingers are wrapped in the scent of incense, and sorrow falls asleep within thy eyelids…”

It didn’t take more than a few words to realize that the soft voice was reciting poetry. Baron quickly flopped back onto the floor.

“Ah, damn it. I’m just going to lie back down.”

Since he didn’t tell him to stop, Bijou recited the poem to the very end. They slept like that until dinner time. Because the teacher’s arm was broken, Bijou stepped up to prepare the meal instead.

Since the available ingredients were subpar, the meal wasn’t anything spectacular. It consisted entirely of boiling freeze-dried chunks and soup powder together. Perhaps as a price for the 100 million dollars, the teacher provided a place at the table for Bijou and Baron as well.

Baron squeezed his body uncomfortably into a decidedly cramped chair and ate the tomato stew that, until a moment ago, had been mere powder. It tasted strongly of chemical engineering, but it wasn’t something he wanted to criticize particularly. The runts sitting in a circle around him shoveled it down just fine. After finishing their meal, the children each swallowed an unidentified pill and cleared their spots.

Now that their stomachs were full, it was time to fill the inside of their little heads. The teacher read the children an old book. it was a story about animals that were extinct or going extinct. When a button was pressed, animals made of light were projected into the air, mimicking roars or the flapping of wings. Every time the fake animals popped out and moved, the children marveled or giggled. They even reached out, knowing full well they couldn’t catch them. Small hands passing through the belly of a Siberian tiger. They laughed, not caring at all.

Baron sat a short distance away with his chin resting on his hand, listening to the teacher’s voice reading the book and the voices of the children occasionally laughing, chattering, or asking questions. Vocal cords vibrating with peaceful joy. It was a wave of affection.

An awkward feeling crawled up his spine, like the dusk falling outside the narrow window. Listening to the names of declining species, he watched the black horizon swallow the sun. Night crawled down from the staggering heights and laid its massive body across the earth.

The weight of the night eventually reached their eyelids. When a child leaning against the teacher began to yawn, she took the children to container number two, which had been set up as a bedroom. Baron and Bijou, who wouldn’t grow any more even if they slept early, remained where they were.

Baron kept silent, fearing that if he spoke the wrong word, Bijou might start reciting poetry again. There was nothing much to enjoy besides children’s books, so he just blinked his eyes in boredom. Finally, when the teacher returned to container number three after putting the children to sleep, Baron waved his hand casually.

“You seem more like a mother than a teacher.”

“Caring for them so they grow into good adults is the same thing.”

The teacher, having finished looking after all those runts with her broken arm, slumped down onto the long field cot. Her complexion looked much paler and dimmer than it had under the bright sunlight. Before anyone could say a word, the teacher grabbed her right arm and shuddered. A painful groan escaped her contorted face. Bijou quickly knelt down beside her.