Purification (before battle)

Prosthetic bodies pile up like a landfill in a corner of the town.

I could see that some of them were still conscious, letting out pained moans.

The Inquisitors paid no heed; they strenuously jammed nails through each of their victims' chests, over and over, executing their "pure" intent.

I've surely pierced their heart, yet still a pulse remains in their body.

It must be patched with steel. Even the core of their humanity has been tainted by heresy.

How filthy. A disgrace to flesh and bone.

The Inquisitor began carefully pouring a bottle of liquid over the prosthetic person in what looked like a solemn ritual.

Judging from the pungent smell, it was most certainly oil.

Imbibe the oil of humanity, ye heretical soma.

Those who cannot return to the earth, find solace in scattering to smoke.

A lit match was then thrown on the pile, letting rise a huge flame.

With the sounds of sparks flying about, the air is soon filled with an acrid smell.

It's not quite like the smell of burning flesh.

The spreading fire finally brings the crackling glimmer in those prosthetic bodies to permanent darkness.

If this hellscape is their idea of purification, I'd rather stay unclean.

Nagel und Hammer has always been devoted to scrutinizing the idea of humanity.

Some criticized prosthetic use, as they believed that pain is a necessary component of the human experience. However, it never escalated to the extent of direct action that we are witnessing now.

I've been meaning to ask… How do you know so much about N Corp?

…I was once employed by N Corp.

Wha…? You used to work with those people?

I have never worked with those specific individuals, but in terms of affiliation, you can say that I did.

Come to think of it, this might be the first time I've heard Meursault actively talk about himself.

He would rarely recount anything related to him. Perhaps he felt it wasn't necessary to speak at all.

Why didn't you tell us that earlier? You carry one of those freaky weapons then?

Am I obligated to elaborate?

The hell… Why don't you explain what makes you different from those nutters, then?

Listen, mate… As much as I like to call our daft manager clockface, I don't think they deserve by any means to be on the stake or chopping block.

Those buggers talk big about purifying and all that, but all I see are a bunch of loonies who just needed an excuse to kill, eh?

Speak up, then. Are you like those screwloose bucketheads?

There was a time when I thought about such things.

Though I did not come to a conclusion.

I want that damn conclusion now! Are you gonna up and butcher all the townsfolk if your manager just says so?

Must I give an answer? That does not aid us in handling our work.

An employee must follow their employer's orders. The terms Vergilius presented state as much.

If the manager orders me to do such a thing, I will do it. I may provide my input if I am told that it is necessary, but I do not have a habit of rambling my thoughts unprompted.

…Pardon? Are you 'round the twist? Do you got a chunk of metal for your brains like the folks here?

I am 16% proteins, 60% water, 7% minerals, and so forth; I am clearly different in terms of composition.

Moreover, unnecessary heavy metals do not comprise any portion of my body.

That is another difference.

Heathcliff's face contorted with frustration.

Meursault was already an enigma, and he only felt ever more distant after this conversation.

Now that you mention it, there's something I've been wondering.

I've been thinking on whether Manager Dante should be seen as a "human".

What do you mean?

What if… when dear Dante is speaking… it's actually the clock and not the person we know as "Dante" behind those words?

Eh? You trying to tell me we were being led by an actual clock?

Good grief… You're reaching uncharted depths of idiocy with your theories. I can't even be bothered to refute them.

Don't misunderstand, I do like our Dante with their clock-headedness.

Honestly, same. Why don't you just give up finding your old head and stick with that one?

I know it's prob not gonna be the case, but what if Dante's real head turned out to be super evil or something?

Well, there's only one of us who'd know about our manager bud's past…

Gregor's eyes naturally fell on Faust.

…That's confidential information. Its access is restricted to the highest security level.

<…And I get the feeling I won't be able to read it for myself.>

It's only natural.

I have no idea who or what I originally was, so I had nothing at my disposal to refute Hong Lu's lighthearted accusation.

Maybe he's right, and I really am just a clock.

Even if I ask Faust, there's no telling if she'll give me a real answer, and I wouldn't be able to discern the truth in such a thing either.

There's even a slim chance that the real 'Dante' is hidden away somewhere, and that I'm some advanced imitation trained to believe I have free will.

In any case, sitting here and ruminating won't get me anywhere.

<Who knows, maybe I'll mount this thing on the wall when I find my real head.>

Ishmael sent me a chastising glare for even suggesting something like that, but she had no choice other than to shrug.

Well, it is true.