Chapter 97: |
00097 <-- #Past %26 #Morning in the Rain -->
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#Past (6), Psychotherapy (2)
Predetermined dates and at a set time. The repeated meetings of the boy and the lady were gradually becoming a routine for both of them. A simple appointment with no pressure or reasons to dislike; just an ordinary promise.
The lady was still Song Sooah. She had become accustomed to her other name. At first, it was an act, but as time went on, it became more natural for her. There were also no suspicions or inquiries from the boy. There was no need to fake it. Ironically, it was more comfortable than using her original name. During their time together, she could focus on him, and she could forget about reality.
Now, their conversations flowed naturally. The result of taking time to become familiar with each other. Occasionally chatting, hearing each other's responses, and otherwise accepting the space they had for each other.
The boy, Han Gyeoul, was calm and composed with every word he spoke. He didn't curse his misfortunes or cry out. The lady found solace in that fact. Yet, it was also sad. Gyeoul's maturity is not natural.
She became increasingly curious about that maturity. Gyeoul had never once said that he was having a hard time.
Is he still hiding his true feelings? How many more meetings are needed for that barrier to disappear? The lady asked gently, "Gyeoul, how have you been lately?"
"What are you talking about?"
"At the beginning of Afterlife insurance, many policyholders complained of various maladaptations. For example... yes, having difficulty deciding how to approach artificial intelligence. It's because they can't shake off the thought that it's not a human, making it unbearable for them. It's a kind of obsessive symptom, resulting in social phobia within the virtual reality world. It's a common maladaptation that most people experience."
She wasn't making this up. Although her identity was fake, she was undoubtedly related to Afterlife insurance, and the reports she came across were more detailed than those sent to the government. The mentioned symptoms were, to varying degrees, a psychological hurdle that every insurance policyholder went through at least once.
'Some people never get over it.'
She hoped the boy wouldn't be one of them. He had suffered enough in life.
So, she asked, "How about you? Are you confused at all?"
"..."
The answer didn't come immediately.
The problem mentioned by the lady was easier to overcome for those with higher TOM (Theory of Mind) grades and aptitude. However, it was not always the case. The essence of the problem lay in the non-existent world itself.
High empathy was synonymous with rich sensitivity. The boy was still at an age where his ego was not firm. Judging from the standards of adults who had long stopped asking, 'Who am I? What am I?' posed a challenge.
"I'm fine."
The boy's short answer finally came. It was, unfortunately, insufficient for the lady. How much meaning passed through the silence before he spoke? It seemed more time was needed. The lady hid a small sigh.
However, the boy, who seemingly could read minds, didn't miss it. He smiled familiarly.
"You don't believe me."
"Huh? No, it's not like that..."
As she fumbled, slightly flustered, Gyeoul completely closed the book. Then, using the environmental setting function of [Lobby], he conjured a flower in the air. He chose the variety and selected the color. The result was a rare-colored rose. Holding the stem, and avoiding the thorns, Gyeoul became absorbed in contemplation while looking at the flower.
Eventually, the boy asked the psychotherapist, "What color do you see in this flower?"
"....I see green."
"Yes. It's green. But, Doctor, are you and I seeing the same color right now?"
The lady was puzzled. It was difficult to understand the meaning of the question.
"What do you mean?"
Gyeoul recalled his past. In an old memory, the boy was holding a broken green crayon and was staring blankly.
"I used to think like this when I was young. Even if it's the same green, wouldn't people see different shades? In reality, everyone feels different color sensations, but because we grow up learning that they're all called green, do people mistakenly think that others see the same color as them?"
"That must have been a very difficult dilemma."
"Yes. It was an endless question. All I could know was just what I could feel. Others were always beyond that. Inaccessible, no matter how hard I tried."
The lady seemed to understand why the boy brought up such a topic. It was a familiar concept but an unfamiliar start.
"If you can't know the difference, does that mean artificial intelligence is the same as a human?"
"I'm trying to say that one's mindset... that matters, that humans are social animals, and depending on how we relate to someone, they may or may not be a person to us, regardless of whether they're actually a person or an AI."
"So you're saying you're going to actively decide?"
"I hope so because I was never a person in my past life."
"...."
Gyeoul silently held the therapist's agitation in his eyes. Then, he apologized.
"I'm sorry. I said something strange."
"No, no. Seems like something unpleasant happened."
The lady pondered. The boy's words could be very harsh, depending on how they were interpreted.
'Are there people who don't want to be treated as humans?'
It was a shallow observation that would make a thief shudder. However, even the calm boy might have some anger. Resentment towards those who didn't see him as a person. Although there was no reason for that resentment to be directed at her, the lady worried about it for a moment.
Now it's different. The boy's temperament didn't seem to indicate he would hold such feelings.
Gyeoul smiled again.
"Anyway, you don't need to worry about my adaptation. There weren't many people outside where I used to live anyway, so I'm more at ease now. I miss the two people I always want to see, but it's not like we can't meet at all. Even siblings you cherish become hard to see as they age... I'm just experiencing that a bit earlier."
The lady tried hard to distinguish truth from falsehood in the boy's words.
It wasn't an easy task.
#Morning in the Rain, Lake Santa Margarita
Jeffrey gave an optimistic observation.
"The raindrops have become quite fine. The wind has also weakened considerably. After tormenting us all night, it seems the weather today has at least a little conscience. We might see the anti-cyclone control device after the day breaks. I'll also request aerial reconnaissance from Port Roberts, but we're already past the minimum time for the mission anyway."
If the mission proceeded without any variables, the troops would have already returned to the base. Gyeoul responded.
"I hope so. Even if the child is born safely, it's still a problem."
"Yeah, well....... I don't think a baby is going to be healthy with a mum like that, and it's going to be hard to keep her warm, let alone get her back to base alive."
The two were sheltering from the rain under the eaves where raindrops were falling. Gyeoul recalled the warning message from the National Typhoon Center. Apparently, this was the interval between a hurricane and a typhoon. This small gap was a precious opportunity for those pushed to the limit.
Jeffrey took off his bulletproof helmet and nervously scratched his wet hair.
"You seem to be talking only about unlikely things. It would already be a miracle if both the mother and the baby were safe. Yet, you're hoping for the luck of a timely aerial reconnaissance."
"In Northeast Asia, we say this kind of thing. Do everything you can and leave the rest to God. We did our best. We wish for both miracles and luck. It's not like we'll get punished for that."
"Oh, I don't know. The Almighty above seems to be quite malicious these days. Isn't this world's chaos proof of that? And that's why we're in the mess we're in."
Sighing about his situation, Jeffrey rummaged through his pocket. In there, he found cigarettes but they were not in the best condition. What he pulled out from the soaked pack was a single cigarette, and even that had to be torn off a bit of its wet end. Now, Jeffrey searched for fire. Gyeoul took out a Zippo lighter. A clear click sound as the flint is pulled, and the fire easily catches on.
"Where did you get this?"
"I got it in Santa Maria."
Gyeoul showed the inside of the lid, letting Jeffrey have a look at a message carved by John Fray. Jeffrey sucked on the cigarette to create light. After reading a line of text, he grumbled again.
"The Rangers lead the way, J.E.F. I'm all for pride, but I'm a payroll thief compared to these fellows, so I can't complain."
Jeffrey habitually covered the cigarette. Although the surroundings were blocked by forests, a ridgeline to the east, and a dam to the north, it couldn't hurt to be cautious.
Jeffrey quickly ran through his cigarette, indicating his frustrated mind.
"Now that it's come to this, I hope the kid comes into the world. That way, these damn bastards will get extra points for going to heaven. It'll be a bit of comfort to the remaining family."
The damn bastards of the squad lay side by side in the rain. Gyeoul had given the order to take them outside. The reason was that the office was filled with heat and dampness, raising concerns about the decomposition of the bodies. Also, the weakened psychological state of the pregnant woman was a worry.
Gyeoul replied, "Waiting is really tough, isn't it?"
"It's damn tough. Giving birth is probably the hardest for the one doing it. But, well, since I fought risking my life, I think there's a corner to be had. Damn, even thinking about getting married scares me now."
More than two hours had passed since Gyeoul and Hernandez's squad returned. However, the ongoing labor that Medic White warned about was continuing.
Gyeoul spotted a few soldiers still out on their break. Among them, he called out to one familiar person.
"Elliott! Wouldn't it be better for you to go in and rest? If possible, get some sleep for a while."
The corporal had a very tired face but shook his head.
"I get nervous at the sound of groans. Would I be able to sleep hearing them?"
Soldiers who have experienced real combat were left with some form of trauma, whether big or small. Many couldn't fall asleep without medication.
The weakened cries of the laboring mother were faint but it continued intermittently. The soldiers came out and faced the cold wind even if they found it hard to endure.
More than twenty men were waiting eagerly for the birth.
Jeffrey put the filter-scorched cigarette into the pooled water.
"I miss my bed. If it were like last year, I wouldn't have come out of bed on a holiday like today. I would have slept all day. It's dangerous outside the blanket."
"Holiday... What day is today?"
"Isn't it Korematsu Day? You're not quite an American yet."
Hearing this, Sergeant Lieberman gave a wry smile.
"What's the use of complaining about an American national holiday? Patriotism is what makes an American citizen."
"Oh, yes."
After the awkward exchange, there was no further conversation. Everyone was exhausted. Even light-hearted jokes seemed difficult to manage.
Everyone silently endured the passage of time.
Crack! A lightning bolt struck on the hill. It was the moment when dawn broke above the clouds. The tree struck by lightning glowed green and briefly flared up. But the embers did not survive under the rain.
'It might be difficult to expect aerial reconnaissance...'
Even if the rain subsides and the wind weakens, it might become a bit difficult to launch a military aircraft if lightning strikes. This was due to the possibility of the weapons on board exploding. Unless, of course, they're carrying no weapons at all.
The cry of a newborn baby was heard. Jeffrey, who clenched his fists to endure the cold, lifted his head abruptly. Gyeoul met his gaze. Then, he rushed into the building. When Gyeoul followed, Medic White was holding the newborn.
The mother, with a pale face, showed a faint smile. Excited, Jeffrey asked, "Hey, doc, is it all over? Is it over? It's over, right!"
The tense medic sternly reprimanded.
"Sergeant, calm down a bit. It's not over yet. The placenta and umbilical cord are coming out. And the mother needs to rest. You're not doing her any favors by being noisy. What if she panics? She's already in a weakened state, would you take responsibility if something goes wrong?"
"...Is that so? Sorry."
The reprimanded sergeant quieted down obediently.
The husband of the laboring mother was sitting weakly and almost collapsed. He just stared blankly while the medic worked on cutting the umbilical cord and handling the placenta. There seemed to be no energy left for him to feel joy.
Since the mother had a fever, the medic intended to keep the child away from both the father and mother. The baby was wrapped in combat fatigues and blankets instead of being handed to the parents. Whether it was sufficient precaution or not remained uncertain, but it was the best they could do. The medic spoke again.
"Do we have any remaining fever patches? Prepare a meal right away. We can't turn the child's birthday into a day of mourning for the parents."
At this moment, White's authority was superior to Gyeoul's.
Amid the hustle and bustle, a radio operator with his antenna outstretched came in.
"Lieutenant, you should come over for a moment. We've made contact with the Central Command."
"..."
Jeffrey stiffened and began to pray. 'Oh Almighty, the next time I meet you, I'll take a look or something.'
Since the message was relayed through the squad's channel, other soldiers also heard it. The reaction was uniform—sighing and leaning against something.
It was a miracle, a stroke of luck.
Sometimes there were days like this.
---------------------------= Afterword =-------------------------—
#Innocence and Peace
After reading the comments from the last session, the author's innocence has once again run out.
Everyone, depending on the person, the chat part may feel like noise or may not be fun. That is a personal taste.
It's okay to exchange opinions about it here. However, it should not turn into coercion or blame.
I've been saying this from the beginning. Opinions can differ.
Respecting everyone's stance when raising opinions is important.
#Illustrator
The illustrator who was in charge of the illustrations for the published book suddenly suffered the loss of their father.
The editor had asked if there was a specific illustrator the author wanted personally, but the ignorant author didn't know any illustrators...
If any of the readers know an illustrator, please let me know.
#Celebrity
I apologize for the lengthy review. It is said that the cover will be drawn in a realistic style, and it would be helpful if a similar image of a real person is chosen.
So the editor asked again, but the ignorant author once again did not know any celebrities...
No, I don't watch TV in the first place...ㅠㅠ
I will also welcome readers' opinions on this matter.
As the review is long and the author feels like they're going to die, Q&A will be omitted. Good night.