BATTER 35

Even another human being could likely never feel this much joy at a human’s touch. Baron chuckled, clicking his tongue, and followed Bijou’s lead. The guy who had been submissively keeping to the back was now walking ahead of Baron, guiding the way. Rather than feeling reassured as if by a sleekly muscled hunting dog, it felt more like taking a dainty lapdog for a walk. A pretty dog that was brave and cute but didn’t know the first thing about how to actually bite. Baron followed obediently wherever Bijou led and asked.

“Do you even know where the destination is? Where are we going, man?”

“First, I intend to go somewhere your injuries can be treated.”

“A hospital? It’s a bit far to walk.”

“If you define ‘hospital’ strictly as an institution officially established by a medical corporation, then no.”

Come to think of it, the guy had testified that he usually went around the lower city looking for the injured. How had he been treating those whose wounds couldn’t be fixed with just painkillers or a splint? Did he have some friendly quack doctor on hand?

Considering the guy’s merciful attitude of welcoming any human, it seemed like a fitting combination. While Baron was forming a proper and precise question, Bijou came to a dead halt. It was in front of a massive, fallen billboard with its lights long extinguished. Baron lightly tapped the grey, withered monstrosity. Feeling the vibration, a swarm of small beetles scurried out from under the sign. They crawled across the ground on their six legs and vanished into another crevice.

“Reminds me of the old days; this is nice. You want to take a break here?”

“The current time is 9:57 AM. I will remain stationary for about three minutes.”

It sounded like an answer to the question, but it wasn’t exactly satisfying. Baron raised an eyebrow and shot back.

“Why? Boiling some cup noodles?”

“No, I’m going to wait for my friend.”

“So you actually have friends.”

“I have many.”

Baron decided not to ask if they were all as weird as he was. He leaned his elbow against the grimy billboard, wondering if he should be worried about his magazine being empty. Pale remnants of the once-shining city lay scattered everywhere.

High-rise buildings soared like cliff faces, while broken neon signs and crushed sculptures filled the gaps between them. Vulgar insults and fascist symbols left on every stained wall bared a snake-like presence. It was a desolately chilling street, yet if one peeked behind those broken window frames, living people resided there instead of ghosts. The inhabitants of this area were the types who couldn’t live with their faces showing even in the heart of the lower city.

Baron kept his eyes on the windows packed tightly into the building walls. Beside him stood Bijou, his back and shoulders straightened tall. Was it really okay to stand out in the open so defenselessly? Baron subtly moved his body to shield Bijou. Just then, the guy poked his shoulder—tap, tap.

“What.”

“My friend is almost here.”

A white finger pointed toward the jagged horizon. Baron’s gaze shifted to where that fingertip was aiming. Even from afar, something that was clearly not human in shape was rapidly approaching. The sound of its approach wasn’t the rhythmic thumping of footsteps hitting the ground. It was the sound of rotating wheels. 9:59 AM, and then 10:00 AM. Bijou’s friend stood boldly before them. A monotonous voice with a mechanical edge offered a greeting.

— Current time is 10:00 AM and 3 seconds. Encounter with S2-2. Pleased to meet you.

“It’s been a while, Mori!”

Bijou’s friend, who resembled a micro-truck, was a charming fellow with round orange headlights. Baron slowly scanned ‘Mori’ as he exchanged greetings with Bijou. Looking at the brand attached to the front, it was a street-cleaning robot released by Rayford. Based on its overall appearance, it was likely from the MOREO-X line.

Actually, even that wasn’t certain. The side mirrors, the solar power generator, and the steel plates patched onto broken parts clearly showed they had been scavenged from products of entirely different companies. Even the trademark stuck on its rear wasn’t the Rayford logo.

For a cleaning robot, he seemed to have quite a checkered personal history. Baron lightly ran a finger along Mori’s side. He expected at least some dust, but surprisingly, nothing came off. It meant that even though it was a worn-out, tattered robot, it was well-tended to. Baron turned his head and called out to Bijou.

“Babe, this is your friend? The models are completely different.”

“It seems that way, doesn’t it? But there isn’t another friend as diligent as Mori.”

— MOREO-X5 guarantees diligence. I never tire.

“Well, looking at the way he talks, I can see why you two get along.”

Baron rolled his eyes, his lids curving slightly. The MOREO-X sweeps up street trash and loads it into the cargo bed in the back. It seemed he had been making his rounds today with his usual diligence, but Mori’s cargo bed was completely empty. Even though there was trash fit to be collected scattered everywhere. Was this fellow also broken somewhere, just like Bijou? Just then, Bijou hopped up onto Mori’s cargo bed. Then he reached his hand out toward Baron as if telling him to grab hold and come up.

“You want me to ride in here?”

At this point, Baron vaguely realized he was doing nothing but asking Bijou questions. But since everything was so absurd, what else could he do? Bijou smiled, opening his outstretched hand wider.

“Yes. It would take too long to go on foot.”

“You know it’s illegal to carry people in a cargo bed, right?”

Despite the smirk, he grabbed Bijou’s hand firmly. The guy’s arm was stronger than it looked, and he yanked Baron’s hand as if pulling him into a sudden embrace. Because of that, the bridge of his nose bumped painfully against the guy’s shoulder—thud. His strength was plausible, but he couldn’t handle the mass tumbling over him, so both of them ended up splayed out on the floor of the cargo bed. Bijou cupped both of Baron’s cheeks as he lay sprawled over him and grinned.

“There is an exception for the transport of the injured.”

“…Thorough little bastard.”

Laughter being contagious, Baron let out a belated snicker as well. Soon, Mori began to move again. Every time they passed over unmaintained ground, the cargo bed shook like a small boat on a stormy sea. Every time a wheel hit a bump, the shock was delivered directly to his tailbone. Since aerial vehicles had been the norm for so long, this kind of shitty ride quality was a first in a long time. Baron mixed in a mischievous grin as he mimed throwing up.

“A ground car… gag… it’s my first since my voice changed.”

“Mori is very fast. You just have to endure it for a little while. Are you in a lot of pain?”

“No, no. Reminds me of the old days; I like it.”

Baron placed his hand on the rim of the rattling cargo bed. The rattling—an exaggerated vibration—was transmitted throughout his entire palm. The familiar vibration spread through his nerves to the back of his neck and the base of his spine. He looked out past the cargo bed. The landscape of the ground flashed by quickly from very close up.

A pale street, like the cheek of a neglected and broken plaster statue. A street like the dull eggshells and membranes left in a nest everyone has abandoned. It looked even more bloodless under the dry winter morning light.

From the grey afterimages that merely ran in place and never gave chase, he read the traces of a bustling district that must have once flourished beautifully. The cold, bland stench emitted by things that were either withering away or had already become part of the geological strata seeped into his nose. A slightly nauseating but familiar smell. It was a scent that felt more nostalgic than sad.

Baron stared into the distance—a distance so far it could only be described as “far.” Beyond the graveyard of half-tilted buildings, damaged skyscrapers, and signs where rats and cockroaches had made their nests.

A nostalgic wind ruffled his hair, which was stiff with sweat and dust. Baron suddenly spoke.

“When I was a kid, I wanted to be a truck.”

“That is a common dream for the future.”

“Haha, is that so?”