Baccano! - Volume 7 - Chapter SS1

DIGRESSION, OR PROLOGUE TO WHAT’S NEXT I

THE ETERNAL ONE

In San Francisco Bay, there was a small island—less than twenty-two acres in area—just offshore.

Most of the island was bare rock, and its coastline was made of steep cliffs all the way around. On its top sat buildings made of concrete.

The island was called Alcatraz, a word that meant “the pelicans,” but it was shrouded in a solemn atmosphere that didn’t suit the name.

Although the island had once been completely undeveloped, after the gold rush, ground had been broken for the construction of a fortress to protect San Francisco. It was reinforced further during the Civil War and was ultimately made over into a maritime fort equipped with 111 long cannons and Rodman guns, which were, at the time, cutting-edge technology.

Starting in the Civil War era, military criminals were held on Alcatraz Island.

Even after its role as a fort had ended, the island’s facilities were used to jail soldiers who’d committed crimes, war criminals, and American Indians who’d been captured during internal disputes.

The stronghold that had been created to guard against external enemies now became a facility that kept others from escaping. By the beginning of the twentieth century, the island had taken the shape of a full-fledged military prison.

Deep inside that prison, at the end of a cellblock with a long corridor that would later be nicknamed “Broadway,” storerooms under the cells had been remodeled into a group of solitary confinement cells known as “the Dungeon”…

…And even farther down…in the very depths of the prison, in a place that wasn’t recorded on any layout drawings inside the facility—

—there he was.

A special cell, built for just one man.

It was about the size of a hotel room, too spacious to really call a “cell.”

In exchange, the only facilities in the room were minimal—a bed and running water—and as with the other cells, the only small articles in sight were things like soap and a tin cup. The size of the room served to make the atmosphere several times more desolate: That was the sort of cell it was.

Just a few of the prison guards were allowed access to this area, and its occupant passed the time quietly, ever so quietly.

In this bleak jail, which never saw the sun, the man sat on the bed, gazing into space.

His eyes weren’t vacant. He was focused on a single spot, with clear purpose.

“I was keeping a journal, mentally.”

Abruptly, the man spoke.

His eyes were still watching the same spot; it seemed as though he was speaking to the room itself.

No guard was visible outside the cell.

Naturally, there were no other prisoners inside it.

“Before, through ‘bargaining,’ I was able to read books and newspapers at will…but the management’s grown stricter, you see. They confiscated all of them.”

Even so, the man kept speaking.

He wasn’t talking to himself. His speech was obviously directed at someone else, and it echoed clearly off the cell walls.

“Warden James Johnston, who arrived after the management of this prison was transferred to the Department of Justice… He’s a pretty sharp fellow. In terms of hygiene and meals, he gives the greatest consideration possible to the prisoners, and in exchange, prisoner management is dreadfully thorough. I imagine legends that this jail is ‘escape-proof’ will follow it far into the future.”

“I didn’t come here to listen to you whine.”

An impossible response echoed in the cell—and then the air rippled.

“Well, never mind.”

The formless “presence” that had filled the area for the past few minutes converged in front of the man, who was sitting on the bed.

The man blinked once, and as he did so, the presence morphed into the figure of a man in a suit: Ronny Schiatto.

“It’s been a long time, Huey Laforet. I don’t think we’ve met face-to-face since the ship.”

When he heard his name, Huey finally shifted his gaze, directing a genuinely happy smile at the tall man who stood there, looking down at him.

“Ah… You remembered my name. Although I don’t remember ever telling you what it was…”

“Maiza’s talked my ear off about you. From the fact that you aren’t shaken by my visit, I assume you’ve been watching me as well.”

“…Initially, I was watching Maiza. I found you by accident, demon… Or, no: Ronny Schiatto. Is that your real name? Immortals aren’t able to give false names to each other… Although I’d only have your word regarding whether you, a demon, need to obey that restriction.”

Huey had begun speaking with deliberate politeness. In response to the tease, Ronny spoke expressionlessly.

“I’m Elmer C. Albatross.”

“…?”

He abruptly introduced himself by the name of a person they already knew.

Naturally, Huey was aware he wasn’t looking at Elmer.

For the first time, his smile faded, and as if in exchange, a smile appeared on Ronny’s face.

“…I gave you a false name, didn’t I?”

“Yes…”

“As additional testimony, Ronny Schiatto is my real name, in a way. Although it is a name I gave myself… Provided you believe what I say.”

There was a smile on Huey’s lips, as if he was satisfied, but his eyes hadn’t completely relaxed.

“Even if it is only his name, I’d rather you didn’t use Elmer casually in experiments like that.”

“Those don’t sound like the words of a fellow who uses others’ lives and livelihoods in experiments without batting an eye.”

Ignoring the comment, Huey asked the other man indifferently, “That aside, what brings you here today? Private conversations are severely restricted in this prison. If a guard finds you here—”

“You’re an exception to the rule, and you know it. Besides, I could take care of a guard or two for you.”

“The things omnipotent beings say certainly are different. Although, for all that, you do sound very human.”

The reserve finally left his eyes, and Huey tossed back an ironic response.

Ronny evaded the other man’s question easily, then stated his real purpose in a matter-of-fact way.

“All right. Huey Laforet, what is your objective?”

“…Objective?”

“You’re at war with Nebula, you’re collecting the ‘failed’ liquor—what are you planning?”

In response to this question from the being he’d called “omnipotent,” Huey tilted his head, intrigued.

“Why would you ask me a thing like that? You’re a demon; all you’d need to do is read my mind.”

“Uncultured oaf. That would be boring. Do you intend to bury my life in tedium?”

“…”

This extremely unreasonable answer confirmed for Huey, once again, that the other guy was a demon.

I see. Just what I’d expect from someone who presided over a “game” like granting the wish of the one who summoned him for free.

Even as he thought this, Huey continued to argue. “It wasn’t tedious to march into a prison on the opposite side of the continent and ask the person in question for the answer directly?”

“The prospect of conversing with an eccentric like you makes it pretty interesting. Besides, we’re far too short on time for me to take the trouble of transferring from train to car and applying to visit you officially.”

“That’s not fair. It really isn’t. Your answers all hinge entirely on your own convenience.”

Huey shook his head as if he was troubled, but his voice was in perfect good humor. “That’s right; if I were to sum up your existence in one word, it would be—cheater. Yes, cheater. That’s the only way to put it. You completely ignore the laws of physics, and you pull off feats that can only be described as magic as if they were common sense!”

He’d begun to speak a little emphatically, but then he immediately lowered his tone and agreeably answered Ronny’s question. “My objective is an experiment to see what the beings known as ‘immortals’ can do. The end goal of that experiment is, Ronny Schiatto, to create a ‘demon’ such as yourself with my own hands—or for me to personally become what you are.”

“…Do you think being me will make you popular with the ladies or something?”

It was a joke, clearly made to evade the issue, but Huey wasn’t the least bit disconcerted.

On seeing this, the corners of Ronny’s lips warped as if he was entertained.

“And? How is the experiment going?”

“At the very least…I have some idea of what you really are.”

“…I’m merely a long-lived alchemist. I’m no demon.”

“Those words are true, but not the whole truth. Isn’t that right?”

Huey spoke as if he saw through everything, and Ronny responded with silence.

“You aren’t a demon or a god—much less a simple alchemist… But no, I shouldn’t say more than that until I have the results of the experiment.”

For a short while after that, silence ruled the cell. Then, abruptly, Huey spoke.

“Still, this incident startled me as well. I never dreamed Nebula was being so reckless.”

“Did you order your hand-raised guinea pigs to slaughter everyone just to confirm that?”

“Well, I was very nearly certain already. The twins’ reports are always accurate.”

Chuckling, Huey spoke with utmost confidence.

“I wonder if they’ll be able to keep them under control. Now that they’re aware of immortality, not as a concept but as an actual experience. Individuals would be one thing, but nearly half of Nebula’s employees experienced it at once. Will they be able to use them fully? Well, I managed to annoy them a little; I’m now able to observe an interesting test subject like Dallas Genoard, and most importantly, Tim grew a lot during this affair… Enough to reveal his rebellious intentions to me.”

“‘All according to plan,’ you mean?”

As Ronny spoke, he sounded mildly disgusted. Huey nodded, looking satisfied.

“Yes. Almost everything happened according to someone’s plan, either mine or Nebula’s. However, there are several people who could upset our calculations. Claire Stanfield, for one, or the former Felix Walkens—or you yourself.”

“The most I’ve done lately is time a cloud break to match a sword draw. It startled some diners, but that’s all.”

“…The things omnipotent people do are quite different, aren’t they?”

Huey seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the current situation, and Ronny changed the subject, hitting him with some sarcasm as he did so.

“Still…Christopher’s crew, and your ‘twins’… You’re really making practical use of Szilard’s techniques, aren’t you?”

Ronny was pointing out, indirectly, that Huey had stolen Szilard’s research. Huey smiled as he responded.

“Will you take me to court as an industrial spy?”

“Suing a penniless jailbird is just a waste of time.”

“Jail, hmm… If we’re discussing jails, I’ve been in one for several centuries already.”

Getting up from the bed, Huey turned eyes that seemed to be fondly remembering distant days on the wall of his cell.

“Back then, on that ship, you shut us into a prison of time. Yes, there is no past, present, or future here. The flow of time merely forms a whirlpool.”

“…”

“What can immortals do? What possibilities do they hold? That’s all I’ve thought about. No matter how brilliant or virtuous they are, they can’t become gods who will deliver the world from its discontent. In order to save one person, several sacrifices must be made. Those are the limits of humans.”

“I wouldn’t make too light of humans if I were you.”

“Well, well. Those don’t sound like appropriate words for a demon…”

In the end, Ronny supplied Huey with one final piece of information.

“It’s not fair for me to be the only one learning things. Let me tell you one thing you aren’t likely to know.”

“What is it?”

“Are you familiar with a man named Ladd Russo?”

“Yes, he was…one of the uncertain elements in the Flying Pussyfoot experiment.”

As he used the phrase uncertain elements, Huey’s smile faded slightly.

It was as if he was displeased that the results of the experiment had been disturbed.

“I hear he’s after your life, and they say he’s going to be transferred to this prison. Lucky you.”

“That information doesn’t make me the least bit happy. What’s lucky about it?”

“—You won’t get bored.”

Huey tried to raise his voice in protest, but it was too late. Abruptly, the air in the cell reverted to the way it had been before—

—and settled down into a situation which was, in a way, extremely normal: The only presence was that of the prisoner.

It had been an hour since Ronny vanished from the oubliette.

And yet there was another figure in it besides Huey.

It wasn’t Ronny, of course. The silhouette was completely different from his.

“Say, Father? Father? Aren’t you bored now that they’ve taken your books away?”

The voice unmistakably belonged to a child. It was bright and innocent, and it sounded completely out of place in a prison.

“I’m not bored. People even come to talk to me, once in a while.”

As Huey answered, he lightly stroked the head of the figure in front of him.

Its black hair rustled softly, and golden eyes peeked out from between its bangs.

The figure was about the same height as Huey while he was seated in the chair, or maybe just a little taller. In combination with the voice, this made it clear that the individual was a child.

No matter what sort of plea bargain he made, there was no way he’d be allowed to let a child into his cell.

In other words, the island’s administrators weren’t aware of this situation.

“Father! Listen, listen! Guess what?! I met my big sister!”

“That’s wonderful, Leeza.”

On hearing her own father call her name, the little girl—Leeza—smiled happily.

Then her young, artless voice—the complete opposite of the mature one Christopher and the others had heard—echoed in the cell.

“Father, listen, I’m even stronger than Chané! I’m sure I am! If that Vino guy hadn’t been there, I know I could have killed her!”

At that, Huey gave a troubled smile and poked at Leeza’s head.

“None of that, now. I told you; you mustn’t kill your sister yet, remember?”

There was no anger in his warning, but Leeza shook her head, looking about to break down in tears.

“I-I’m sorry! I, I… Please, Father, forgive me; I won’t do it again, so forgive me!”

“Ha-ha, I’m not angry, Leeza.”

“Really?”

His daughter asked the question timidly, and he smiled kindly and stroked her cheek.

“Yes, really. Don’t worry.”

“You won’t hate me?”

“Now how could I hate my own daughter?”

His face was smiling, but Huey’s answer was indifferent, almost mechanical.

Leeza, however, didn’t register this. Her cheeks flushed pink, and she spoke to her father in her most coaxing voice.

“Say, Father…? Who’s more important to you, my sister or me?”

The girl’s question was tinged with unease, and Huey responded with an even kinder smile.

“You of course, Leeza.”

At her father’s answer, the girl said “Oh, I’m glad!” and flung herself into his arms.

…And so she didn’t notice.

When her father gave that answer, he hadn’t been looking at the girl’s face at all.

Huey’s eyes were still gazing at that point in space, just as they had been before…

Today, as always, a lone immortal continued to deceive all of creation.

All the lab animals who were involved with him, the whole of the natural world—even himself.

An old memory rose in his heart.

“Huey. In this world, there’s nothing but justice and love. That includes self-love, justice used to satisfy your desires, that sort of thing. In that case, what do you have to do to get everyone in the world to smile? …There’s a way. It’s easy to say, but very, very hard to actually do.”

“You’ve intrigued me.”

“—You have to become a bad guy.”

“Bad?”

“If the whole world is made up of justice clashing with justice, and there’s absolutely no way to save everybody—then I’ll have to become the world’s lone ‘evil.’ I just need to visibly commit fouls big enough to outmaneuver all justices, one after another.”

“…That’s ridiculous.”

“Makes you smile, doesn’t it?”

Remembering that conversation with his good old friend, Huey murmured as if he were talking to himself.

“Say, Elmer… Am I ridiculous now? If you saw me, would you smile?”

His voice didn’t reach the ears of the daughter who nestled close to him. It was simply drawn away, into the darkness of the cell.

Quietly.

Quietly…