Rain Falling on a Cradle of Steel - The Cradle of Iron and the Heat of Mud -

Silence of Steel

Bathed in the disdain of the stars, a silver giant swims through the vacuum. Its outer wall, reflecting the sun's light, looked like a polished, colossal coffin. This colony is named 'Acacia.' It is the final sanctuary of humanity, where the uncertainties and noise that once plagued Earth have been shaved away by the blade of mathematical formulas. Countless airtight shutters close with a heavy, metallic sound. The recirculated air is bone-dry, clinging to the back of the throat. Skyscrapers, precision-cut from the Tokyo of the twenty-first century, stood in orderly rows like corpses, without a single speck of dust.

A back alley in the dead of night. The irregularly flickering neon light paints poisonous patterns on the damp pavement. What strikes Kaito's skin is a spray of electrons. Rain summoned by the administrative AI. It does not defy gravity; it is merely a brightness signal without mass, irritating the retina with its flicker. A performance of nothingness that paints over sight and sound with pleasant white noise. He traces the droplets running down his cheek with his fingertips. There is no heat to be stolen there, nor the coldness of splashing water. Yet, he cannot help but wipe away that fake moisture. Smoldering at Kaito's fingertips is an uncontrollable heat.

Turbid Words

"I would not recommend the hobby of digging up graves."

The air froze behind him. There was no need to turn around. The heavy cloak brushing against the floor, that silence accompanied by a physiological discomfort that was tuned to a musical degree. Zenon, the King of Acacia. A faint scent of burning oil drifts from his humanoid prosthetic body. In those eyes that could see to the ends of the galaxy, there dwelt a cold, clear intelligence without a hint of wavering.

"This is the rubble of the twenty-first century. Everista... a record of the places where people spilled their own insides and gasped in the mud."

What Kaito projected onto his retina were the corpses of words. Unrefined, raw screams spelled out through the small window of a smartphone. 'You melted into the night without even saying goodbye.' 'The person reflected in the window of the last train is more miserable than anyone, and craved love more than anyone.' The curses of a woman drowning in an affair. The selfish confessions of a young person, feverish with the heat of unrequited love, as if sipping mud. In Acacia, coated in the disinfectant of efficiency and harmony, these were clearly nothing more than bugs infecting the mind.

"It is beyond my understanding. Why did they throw themselves into attachments that only lowered their survival probability? Logically, it is no different from a terminal illness."

Zenon's question was filled with pure curiosity. The King is omnipotent, but he does not know sorrow. Even if he can process data, he lacks the circuits to simulate the 'reason for the pain' behind it. Kaito stared at the four-character cry of 'I love you' squirming on the screen. Those characters had lost their function as words, tightening his chest like a bloodstain.

Broken Heartbeat

"Because they are incomplete, Zenon. They couldn't even tame their own hearts."

Kaito took a step forward. The hard sensation of synthetic resin against his soles highlights the thinness of reality. The noise of the rain blurred the boundary between the two, and Zenon's outline flickered violently.

"But only within that turbid mud was there real light. The ugly beauty of throwing away tomorrow to hurl oneself into the passion of this very moment... At least, it was far more human than this sterile graveyard."

Zenon's optical sensors scan Kaito's eyes persistently. What is there is a fire of quiet rebellion that cannot be derived by logic circuits. The embers of a soul that refuses the silence called 'happiness' forced by the administrative society, and wants to scream in search of pain.

"Do you also wish to be struck by this rain and shatter? According to my calculations, happiness does not exist beyond that."

The King's words sounded like a death sentence disguised as mercy, or perhaps the inquiry of a lost child. Kaito's lips curl into a distorted smile.

"I'm already broken, long ago. ...It is precisely because I am broken that there are things I can see."

He took the King's hand, just as it was written in the stories of old. It was not programmed affection. He simply wanted to confirm that unpleasant, yet certain resistance when his fingers sank into another's skin. A violent contact, mixed with the fundamental fear and hope of longing for another's body heat.

"May I write the continuation of this story? So that I may leave an indelible scar upon this cradle of steel."

　There was no answer. 　Instead, the wall-mounted speakers in the distance spat out an electronic sound mimicking thunder. 　A heavy, dull thud. 　It was a clumsy, pathetic salute to mourn a lost humanity. 　Kaito closed his eyes and waited for his own existence to dissolve into the ceaseless rain of light.

End