BATTER 44

“Emotions are the result of neurotransmitters secreted when we perceive external stimuli. The psychotropic drugs currently in use regulate these hormones, but that’s only a temporary fix. If you truly want to treat sadness, you must change the environment and the cognition.”

The sight of this guy—who talked endlessly of love and forgiveness—laying down such a cold, clinical definition satisfied Baron’s primal desires. Baron nodded, his expression significantly softened. It was a sign for him to continue the explanation.

“The capsules I showed you in the greenhouse contain a blend of nanites.”

“What? You’re joking.”

Nanites—the sub-microscopic successors to micro-robots, the highly anticipated ‘Bethesda’ 2) of the 23rd century. There had been plenty of rumors that they were still under research, or announcements of successful development that turned out to be scams. Bijou simply shook his head with an ambiguous smile.

“It’s not as grand as you think. It doesn’t have the power to grant immortality or enhance the physical body like the public hopes or the researchers aimed for. After all, these are nanites salvaged from laboratory waste.”

“Don’t you think it’s a bit of a daring move to put that into a human body?”

“Don’t worry. Even the lab concluded that while they fell short of the target goals, they passed the safety inspections.”

The explanation regarding the nanites was dismissed just like that. Baron wanted to press him on how exactly he had managed to break into such a laboratory, but the boy had already moved on to the next part.

“At first, it temporarily regresses cognitive ability and stored memories. There’s no need to go all the way back to the moment of birth. The persistence of intense traumatic events and negative emotions causes transformations not just in brain function, but in its structural aspects. The nanites mixed into the powder identify the point of that first transformation and promote regression to around that time. It doesn’t touch the memories themselves. However, the psychotropic substances administered alongside it change the feeling associated with those memories at the time. Then, the memory of the event remains, but the person no longer perceives it as something painful. Through a chain reaction where the attitude toward that memory changes, then the attitude toward the next, and so on, they internalize an adaptive pattern.”

“An ‘adaptive pattern,’ huh.”

Baron murmured Bijou’s words back to him. His tone emphasized each syllable, laced with a faint, underlying sneer. He frowned and smiled simultaneously, chewing over what he’d just heard. Manipulating the emotions tied to memories to erase suffering from the past, the present, and even the future…

“I didn’t know that being unable to feel sadness or pain was described as being ‘adaptive.'”

“Is it not?”

A pure question was held out to him. The boy was faithfully fulfilling the purpose of his creation: ensuring that humans were no longer sad or lonely; giving inexhaustible love.

“I can feel sadness, loneliness, and misery too. A machine can erase its pain easily by borrowing the hands of others, but humans cannot. That is why I feel so sorry for humans.”

This machine pitied its creators. He felt a sorrowful sympathy for them, as if looking down from the heavens.

“When I told them I would make it so they weren’t sad anymore, they all agreed. They begged me to do it, and now, they aren’t sad. Everyone has gained a new home and a new family. Is that not a good thing?”

Baron kept his gaze fixed, blinking silently. One eye was a machine, the other filled with a transparent vitreous body. Yet, from either side, he could feel his pulse thumping wildly. His lips, exhaling a slow breath, curved into an arc.

“Right or wrong aside, this seems like a very important secret. Is it okay to tell me so easily?”

“It’s information only family members can know. It is kept a secret from outsiders.”

“Am I one of your family members, then?”

The answer to this question was a faint smile. With a hazy, tranquil smile—like moonlight seeping through night clouds—Bijou reached out toward Baron.

“All those who are sad and lonely are our family.”

The outstretched hand cupped Baron’s face. The palm, holding him completely from his jaw to the corners of his eyes, had a delicate softness like the underside of a flower petal. Bijou leaned in close, whispering as if he might kiss Baron’s eyelids.

“And you are sad and lonely.”

Beyond those neat eyelashes, what was reflected in those deep blue, ghostly eyes was sadness and solitude. What was reflected in Baron Lin’s eyes?

A defective android who loved all of humanity, who wanted to save every human from pain. A savior machine tending to a new-age catacomb.

A tin angel who, out of an infinitely selfless heart for all the humans in the world, mobilized religion, isolation, and drugs. A shy madness filled with pure affection.

Baron knew this kind of madness all too well. Perhaps he had been longing for it for a long time.

He let his lips slide against the palm cupping his cheek, tracing down to press a kiss deep against the boy’s wrist. The front teeth hidden beneath his smiling lips lightly bit the skin of the thin wrist. As he rubbed the tip of his nose against the spot where the faint teeth marks remained, a vivid grin spread across his face.

“Babe, you really are…”

Baron Lin thought, laughing with his sharp teeth bared.

“Horribly sexy.”

When would he ever encounter such a crazy machine again!

Since his hand was on Baron’s right cheek, Bijou would be able to tell, too—the joy quantified by hormones and brain waves. The boy blinked once and spoke.

“I didn’t quite grasp what you meant by that.”

“I figured you’d say that.”

Baron laughed out loud and grabbed both of Bijou’s wrists. A dual force—both rough and seemingly tender—clamped down on him.

“Still, don’t mess with my head. I’m not into that kind of stuff.”

“Then what method should I use? I want you to be neither sad nor lonely anymore, too.”

“Haha, how sweet of you.”

Strong hands pulled Bijou toward him. Since he didn’t resist, Bijou followed tamely and was sat between Baron’s knees. Baron released his grip on the wrists and tilted his head at a crooked angle.

“Then let me ask you the opposite. What should be done about your own sadness and pain?”

“It doesn’t matter how I feel. Besides, you’re the first person to ever ask when I feel sad.”

The boy lifted his head to meet his eyes. Even in the shadows, his eyes didn’t lose their brilliant blue light. Baron caught the neatly braided hair—braided just as he had done it—between his fingers and toyed with it. It felt smooth and cool, like a small garter snake sliding through his palm.

He slowly pulled at the elastic band caught at the end of the braid. The hair, woven like a rope, loosened, and his long, thick fingers invaded the strands.

“But you say you feel sad, don’t you? You say you feel pain. Because you love all humans.”

Baron peered into the boy’s eyes with a smirking face. His fingers, buried deep in the thread-like hair, unraveled the woven and tangled parts along their slick texture. He gathered the falling hair and tucked it behind an ear that was as white as marble, whispering.

“I feel more sorry for you, darling.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Isn’t it pitiful? Busting your ass and using every trick in the book just because you feel sorry for these humans who don’t have a single pretty bone in their bodies?”

Despite the potentially offensive words, the boy didn’t change his expression, simply meeting his gaze with wide, clear eyes.

“Then what should I have done?”

At that, Baron burst into laughter. Hahaha… It was a sound like thick smoke, blurring into nothingness toward the end. He used the protruding knuckle of his index finger to trace the line of Bijou’s face upward.

“I told you, there’s a much simpler way to forget everything.”

“It’s a method I’ve never tried before, so I’m not sure if it’s a rational means.”