BATTER 27

“I’ve detected changes in your hormone levels ever since we encountered the children. The pitch of your voice has also been minutely different from usual. These changes were especially observable when the children and the teacher were together. Your cortisol levels were at their highest when Trixie sat on the teacher’s lap. You smiled more frequently during verbal expressions of affection, but this appears to be a reactionary psychological response rather than empathy for the other person’s positive emotional expression. It may be a defense mechanism. The change was most pronounced when you spoke about the teacher’s parenting attitude. From a psychotherapeutic perspective, it is most important to approach phenomenologically without judging the subject, but reflecting on the case data I possess, I can speculate that there was a specific issue with a guardian during your childhood. Was that a satisfactory inference?”

This is exactly why he can be wise and foolish at the same time. Baron turned his gaze forward and snorted.

“Are you possessed by the ghost of Freud?”

“Freud was a representative psychologist of the psychodynamic school who particularly emphasized the concept of sexual drive. While it is nearly impossible to discuss psychoanalysis while excluding Freud’s theories, I built my hypothesis around the relationship with a guardian in early life, so perhaps ‘the ghost of Klein’ or ‘the ghost of Winnicott’ would be more appropriate examples!”

“My bad. It was just a total clusterfuck of nonsense, and I misunderstood.”

Baron quietly closed his eyes. Inside his dark eyelids, blue flickered and wriggled like an afterimage. Even though he was destined to be sold off to some suspicious anonymous billionaire tomorrow, Bijou didn’t seem to have a shred of worry. It wasn’t that Baron felt sorry for or pitied an android he’d known for less than three days. He didn’t possess enough compassion to dare feel that way.

He didn’t think the cloned children or the teacher were pitiful either. Shall we be even more honest? He actually disliked them. He hated that teacher. If he’d been a common terrorist, Baron would have at least had fun playing with him.

As the teacher knew himself, he wasn’t a good savior. As long as the original DNA existed, the clones would have been born again and consumed for their original purpose. If lucky, they’d become replacements for children who died in accidents; if not, they’d be organ sacks.

Knowing that full well, the teacher still couldn’t let go of his trivial affection, becoming a meaningless savior and ending up a destitute hermit—Baron found it pathetic. Bijou, who was willing to exchange himself for such a person, was just as ridiculous. Other people called this way of thinking ‘sacrifice,’ and sacrifice usually carried noble attributes, but Baron couldn’t quite understand it. He understood the mechanism of nobility, but he couldn’t empathize with it.

Baron Lin does not pity others. He does not believe in souls. He does not believe in forgiveness or salvation. He does not believe in nobility. What one does not believe in cannot exist. And what cannot exist makes an animal’s brain feel unpleasant.

Bijou’s diagnosis was wrong. Baron wasn’t sad. This emotion—the one waking his cortisol, numbing his brainstem, and kneading his limbic system—was displeasure. Nobility made him feel unpleasant.

Baron opened his eyes. Bijou was still lying beside him. He was staring at Baron with his eyes open. No matter the angle, his eyes were shaped with docility. A white bird that could be trapped in one’s palm, a lamb with slender legs and hooves. Baron propped his upper body up, supporting his weight with his elbow. A gentle curve flickered in his eyes as he looked down at an angle, chin resting on his hand. Baron whispered lowly, as if sharing a secret with a lover at the bedside.

“So you’re saying being sacrificed is nothing to you?”

“Yes.”

“The reason you think it’s okay to be sacrificed is because you were made that way.”

No matter the intent, the truth cannot insult a machine. Bijou simply replied as if it were nothing.

“That is correct. I am programmed to protect and love humans in all situations.”

“Even if they do something terrible to you.”

“Yes, because I can forgive anything.”

Hahaha! A strange sound of laughter broke out. It was a mean-spirited laugh that crawled up from the black abyss surrounded by pale teeth and red mucous membranes. The owner of that unfamiliar laugh was Baron. He laughed with the joy of an audience member who had been longing to see through a magician’s trick.

“Then you can’t forgive anyone. Because from the start, you can’t even feel that a human has done something wrong.”

Bijou did not look away, yet he remained silent. In the midnight silence, Baron felt a bizarre sensation that was neither victory nor defeat. The pair of eyes quietly watching him felt like satellites guarding the clear sky of an alien planet. The unfamiliar gravity of a blue moon pulled at Baron. He leaned his face in a little closer.

“What actions have made you angry so far? What made you sad? What do you hate?”

“I have never hated anything.”

Just like when they first met, Baron’s shadow was cast over the white face. He brushed away a few strands of blonde hair stuck to the slightly rounded cheek and mouth. The reddish flesh was soft and warm. His thumb, with its short and rough nail, pushed and pried between the parted lips. Moist mucous membranes clung to Baron’s finger.

He traced the smooth, damp curves, devoid of any blemishes. The sensation of the shifting flesh and thin skin was transmitted vividly. Bijou watched everything he was doing intently. Baron didn’t close his eyes either. He observed the details as he lowered his head. And then he kissed him.

No one closes their eyes. They simply looked into each other’s irises and pupils. It was a viewing closer to observation or measurement. They watched the movement of the pupils opening pitch-black and the texture of the irises, like craters on an outer planet, for a long time. But there was no flame or heat. There was only the sound of moisture-soaked flesh rubbing together, making an extremely wet noise.

Baron gripped the round back of Bijou’s head and unilaterally licked the inside of his mouth. The tongue was small and the mouth was narrow. Bijou, trapped in his embrace, allowed him to suck and lick everywhere without fear or shame. Baron was certain that if he could have smiled, he would have been wearing that same polite smile as usual.

As he finally pulled his mouth away, he bit into the innocent android’s lip. His teeth, backed by force, pierced the outer casing and left a mark. Over the lips glistening with human saliva, a red liquid spread faintly. He could tell instantly that the red liquid functioned as blood.

Baron recalled a snippet from a tech magazine that used to pointlessly fill his inbox. It was a special cooling substance that circulated through the android’s parts to reflect human flushing while simultaneously preventing device overheating.

Baron tasted the machine’s blood on his own lips. It had a slightly sickening sweetness. He spat out the saliva mixed with cold blood. The machine’s hand approached the lips stained with artificial blood. Baron was willing to take a punch to the cheek. But Bijou gently placed his fingers over Baron’s lower lip. The overlapping fingertips moved tenderly, as if trying to wipe away the stain that hadn’t been fully washed off. Baron snatched the hand that was stroking across the faint lines of his lip. He pressed his lips firmly against the thin, ungulate-like wrist and asked:

“How is it?”

“Do you want me to hate something?”

The answer to the question was another question. There was no hostility in the voice asking back. The AI’s calculation program, unable to distinguish between jokes, true intent, and metaphors, continued to run.

“Following the intent implied by your actions, I ought to hate you. But I do not resent you.”

“Right. You love me, is that it?”

Responding to the predictable words, Baron wagged his eyebrows. S2-2, who loves you in your solitude, will always love you… He laughed hollowly and climbed on top of Bijou. The thing was submissive to the end, and Baron could easily trap both its wrists in one hand.