Deus lo Vult

by Carlo Zen

  Maybe you want to get blown to smithereens by your own invention. Talk about getting what you deserve. What I want to know is why I’m stuck killing myself with this mad scientist. Isn’t a compulsory double suicide a bit too much? But Tanya manages to express those feelings in a genuine but socially appropriate, roundabout way.

  “Honestly, I wish you would employ that grace for something else.”

  “…? A scientist must stay loyal to their pursuit. Now stop complaining and start the test.”

  But evidently, the moral madman is too much for Tanya. If that’s how you’re going to be, then go ahead and die if you’d like. Just do your best not to inconvenience those around you. If that’s too much to ask, at least don’t bother me.

  “I’m a soldier, not a scientist.”

  Tanya is only working as a soldier. Under no circumstances does the job description include committing suicide with a scientist.

  And in a sense, the scientist has the perfect response to her protest.

  “Then consider it an order. Now, get going.” If Tanya is a soldier, she should obey the orders according to chain of command. He’s completely tied her hands with that, but he’s absolutely right.

  “…Supplying mana to Type 95 now.”

  Having resisted in every way possible, Tanya laments her misfortune as she begins slowly, carefully pouring energy into Type 95.

  “Observation team, roger. Our prayers are with you.”

  It’s common courtesy to say that, but now the words have taken on an ominous tone. The fear that Type 95 will explode at any moment is plain in my expression. Frankly, I feel like my life is in greater peril here than back on the battlefield.

  Both a mage’s tough defensive shell and the protective film for deflecting direct hits are cast using magic orbs. The thought that I’ll have no protection when the orb explodes is worrying me to no end.

  But upon seeing the indescribable emotion contorting Tanya’s face in response to the anxiety for this absurd situation, Schugel dares to smile. Tanya feels as though it’s virtually the first time she has seen the doctor smile reassuringly out of consideration for her. His expression almost seems to be telling her to relax.

  “What? No need to worry. This is practically guaranteed to work.”

  When Tanya sees how he has the pure, innocent, dangerous gaze of a cultist, skepticism transforms into blaring alarm bells in her head. I should steer clear of that crowd…

  “…Doctor, what makes you so confident?”

  If he’s simply a psycho, it would come as no surprise. The problem is that his insanity threatens to involve Tanya in an immense, inexcusable crisis.

  “What? It’s quite simple.”

  The doctor flamboyantly opens his arms, acting as if he’s about to start expounding upon a simple truth. That alone is enough to send chills down Tanya’s spine. Confidently preaching the truths of the world with innocent eyes? That is something fanatics do. The type that’s immersed in some dangerous religion.

  “…And what might that be?”

  The most dangerous move to make when dealing with a blind believer in something is expressing agreement or denial. I was taught back in my human resources days that if I ever needed to peacefully force resignation from an employee under the influence of a cult, it was necessary to avoid affirming or denying their beliefs. The idea is to remain distant and leave no room for misunderstanding.

  Thus, all Tanya can do in this situation is try to prolong the conversation using the gentlest voice she can muster.

  “I am the chief engineer. Lieutenant, you are the lead tester. That is to say, if we work together instead of standing at odds, we can do anything.”

  All cult members are just like this. They only say reasonable things in an even tone with an innocent expression at the very beginning of an encounter.

  “The other day I received a divine revelation.”

  “…A divine revelation?”

  Yeah, figures. I was afraid of this. Hmm. It’s probably just a figure of speech. But this ominous premonition—the voice of reason—won’t stop screaming. I’ve got a bad feeling, like super-dreadnought-class bad.

  “That’s right. If we say a prayer to God for success, those who believe in him shall be saved.”

  “………Ugh.”

  I groan in spite of myself, although I braced for this. Before realizing it, I also heave a massive sigh.

  He just said to ask God for success? A scientist just told me to pray? Thinking that far, it quickly occurs to Tanya how unlikely this scenario is. Did the chief engineer lose his mind over the project getting terminated? That’s entirely possible.

  Realizing as much, I judge that regardless of orders, it’s too dangerous to go through with the experiment. In a split-second decision, I curb the flow of mana and initiate safety mechanism activation to prevent the orb cores from going haywire.

  “I am told it’s important to be humble, free of arrogance.”

  But the safety mechanisms won’t activate. Feigning calm externally, Tanya can’t hold back her shock as she looks again at the orb in her hand. It’s the same all-too-familiar prototype orb she conducted countless tests on. Multiple safety features could clearly be seen…and aren’t activating? In which case, they’ve been disabled…? He just had to mess with it, didn’t he?

  The only one who could have done it is the peacefully smiling chief standing before me. He’s serious about this. He’s so crazy to begin with that it takes me a moment to fully realize.

  “Isn’t this a wonderful opportunity? Let us join in prayer for success.”

  “Doctor, aren’t you an atheist?”

  “The god of invention came down to me. Now I’m a devout believer.”

  Crap. Things really do look hopeless.

  The Type 95 starts acting wacky, much like its creator. I’ve been controlling its coating with mana but can’t any longer. Something about the circuits doesn’t feel right, either. At this rate, the mana will hurtle straight down the path to chaos. And the safety features I normally rely on aren’t functioning.

  “……………”

  If I try to extract the mana manually, it’ll throw the whole system off-balance, resulting in certain collapse. So despite realizing how dangerous it is, I have no choice but to keep feeding the engine energy. But at this rate, I’ll eventually lose control. I’m caught by this dilemma, but it seems as good as settled that the orb will go berserk in the near future.

  …At this point, I can’t stop myself from imagining my unpleasant fate in vivid detail.

  “We’re sure to succeed if we become believers of invention and pray.”

  “…By the way, what would happen if I don’t pray?”

  “Well, I suppose we would both become martyrs,” the lunatic replies simply. The dangerous smile on his face indicates he would undoubtedly embrace martyrdom with pride. It could be described as the ecstatic smile of a suicide bomber.

  “We should call for a medic right away. Or would you rather I simply put you out of your misery?” From Tanya’s point of view, if she’s doomed to die anyway, at least she could kill this lunatic with her own two hands. If she takes him out as she’s being killed by his defective orb, at least she won’t be the only one suffering a loss. An enticing prospect. Granted, it isn’t much of a fair deal, but market principles assure me it’s better than winding up completely in the red.

  “Calm yourself, Lieutenant. Have you not met God yourself? If we both trust in God, we’ll be saved.”

  He says this at the very moment I’m winding up to make my hidden desire to kill him a reality. Tanya stops short. Whoa, wait a minute.

  “The energy coefficient is rapidly destabilizing! The mana is out of control!”

  “This is insane! The cores are about to melt! All personnel evacuate!”

  The observation team is shrieking. Tanya can’t hear the screams as anything other than noise, but a second before she falls unconscious, she definitely feels it—

&n
bsp; I swear I can feel that damn devil—Being X—grinning at me. Oh yeah. It’s a supernatural being who plays with the laws of nature. It’s the vile devil, who toys with human lives.

  “You set me up?! Damn you, Devil!!!”

  “After much deliberation, the Lord has approved of causing a miracle during the—what is it you’re developing again? Elinium Type 95?—that thing’s activation experiment.”

  When I come to, I’m in a familiar space, and at some point, an entity slightly more intellectual than Being X approaches me. The reason for my visit this time is directly connected to the mad scientist demanding to conduct such a reckless experiment.

  But he’s only a mad scientist, not a religious fanatic. Based on how he was acting just before the accident, he’s a victim, too. It’s probably Being X and his sect pulling the strings. They must have been manipulating him, at least as far as this experiment is concerned. Not that I feel a particle of sympathy for him, let alone a full ounce.

  “Ahh, I see.”

  The entity before me only seems decent compared to the one that came before it. In other words, this one is more like a fanatic capable of holding down a conversation. I can’t let my guard down. I’m basically dealing with someone steeped in a religion of one kind or another. At the moment, I don’t care if he’s a god or devil.

  What I need to watch out for is the very likely possibility he’ll try to push his values on me rather than discuss things rationally. His values are completely insane. He might seem intelligent, but the core of his nature is no different from an incompetent worker’s.

  I should eliminate him immediately. If he’s at least an incompetent bum, I can put up with him. Still, competence notwithstanding, all religious fanatics are diligent workers. It would be a truly praiseworthy virtue if not for the insanity.

  “Allow me to congratulate you. The Lord has determined that you have led a sinful life out of ignorance. He has decided to guide you down the righteous path.”

  “I’ll pass on that.”

  …Wow. A fastball? I figured he was up to something, but pitching an incredible fastball down the middle? Messing with people’s lives is quite honestly a lot of fun, but it’s completely unacceptable for me to be on the receiving end like this. Why can’t I decide how to live my own life? Isn’t my existence as an individual the least I should be able to control?

  “Oh, set your mind at ease. Doesn’t your distress stem from the fear that you’ll be forced to act against your will?”

  Well, it’s hard to say. I’m not sure how to describe this sense of trepidation. It’s true that I resisted the idea of being forced to follow a path determined by somebody else.

  It would also be immensely humiliating for these beings to control my mind or lead me to think a certain way. Mass hallucinations should only be shared among the people who want to get intoxicated by a particular story. If there’s profit to be had in illusions, we’ll invest in them; if there isn’t, they aren’t even worth taking an interest in. And if any crazy people become a threat, I can always kick them awake and make them guzzle down the sludge of reality.

  As an individual, I have to firmly resist this attack on free will that compels participation in mass hallucinations. Freedom. I’m free. I don’t want anyone to violate my freedom.

  I would hate to act against my own principle and violate the freedom of others, but honestly, I can deal with that. The thought of someone else violating my personal freedom, however, is absolutely intolerable. I was once equipped with the resources and connections to protect that freedom. Now I possess certain powers to defend it, coupled with an appreciation for the significance of its value.

  “As such, worry not. We shall bless your computation orb so that it may bring forth miracles. You shall use it and feel the grace of God. Surely that will enable you to offer him words of prayer.”

  “‘Words of prayer’?”

  “That’s right. The words for praising the Lord were forgotten by your ancestors. It is through no fault of your own that they were not passed on to you.”

  “Well, that’s obvious. Although I think there’s more to it than that.”

  Where the heck does that reasoning come from? Someone give me a proper explanation. And right now, if possible. You can even interpret or run it through a translation machine. Since it’s a rush job, I’ll pay extra, and I’ll even throw in a tip, so someone please make it clear what this guy is saying.

  “As I said, the Lord has made it so words of prayer shall flow from your lips, his voice shall be heard by your heart, and you shall believe in miracles.”

  “…That sounds like a really nasty form of brainwashing.”

  Let’s try to sort this out. These evil guys threw me into this world. They may as well have abducted me. And since I haven’t caved, they’ve come up with a new scheme. They’re going to make me use a cursed computation orb. And the more I use it, the more it’ll consume my soul? Oh, screw that.

  As if that isn’t bad enough, they have me in a nasty predicament. They had me in checkmate the moment I realized accepting their offer might be my only way to survive the war despite the price I have to pay.

  These beings are like glory seekers, stirring trouble just to dash in and save the day. Insider trading doesn’t hold a candle to this unscrupulous foul play. For them to get away with this absurdity would be no different than wiping law and justice off the face of the earth. Perhaps I should try to be the representative for the mortal realm’s core values.

  “We won’t actually force you to do anything. You will simply be able to offer prayer in earnest upon experiencing God’s miracles. Such is the blessing the computation orb in your possession has received.”

  It must take a lot of nerve to say that. You hurled me into an environment where I could die at any time in some war and then tell me you aren’t forcing me? That’s like telling someone in a desert not to drink water. You might as well tell me to die. In other words, threatening me much?

  “I see. By the way, what happened to my real body?”

  “You people are being protected by divine grace. Go now, you’d best set forth. Spread the name of the Lord.”

  And on that creepy note, my consciousness is pulled back to the mortal realm. In a most unfortunate turn of events as I snap back to reality, I’m greeted by the face and voice of the last person on the planet I want to see. If I were an imperial judicial clerk, I’d immediately create a law that states mad scientists are to be executed by firing squad. It would be my duty to pass such a law for the sake of the Empire; I have no doubt of that.

  “We were in the presence of the Lord! It’s a miracle! Blessed are those who believe!!”

  The dangerous gleam in the mad scientist’s eyes makes me worry he might burst out shouting, “I am the new prophet!” No, he might actually believe he is a prophet now.

  “Calm down, Chief.”

  I’m begging you, please shut up. There’s no need to emphatically boast that you’ve scientifically proven a mad scientist can change jobs to “religious fanatic.” Please, get out of my sight.

  “Oh, Lieutenant Degurechaff. The experiment is a success!! Let us exalt God’s name together!!!!!”

  Alas, he may have become a religious fanatic, but he’s also still a mad scientist. He’s batty for his beliefs.

  “Come on, come on. Show me the miraculous gift of God!”

  “Degurechaff to Control. Is Type 95’s control formula functioning normally?”

  I’m hoping they could call this all off due to technical difficulties. But a curse has been placed on this device by more or less supernatural beings. How easily they could trample my hopes and wishes. Alas, how powerless humans are…

  “It is, as far as I can tell, but that could be due to issues with the observation apparatus.”

  “Maybe. I guess we don’t have much choice. We should probably seal up Type 95 and examine it back in the lab.”

  Excellent. Caution is an indispensable quality in engineers. While
it’s hard to forgive the way they all abandoned me and ran for the hills, I can come to terms with that now. If their survival leads to the end of this experiment, then I’ll allow it.

  “Bite your tongue! Activate it right this instant, Lieutenant!!”

  Thus begins the struggle. Seriously, can’t this damn mad scientist catch a friendly bullet or have an unfortunate accident one of these days? Actually, I’m sure he’s gotten mixed up in more than a couple situations like that, so why is he still alive? I sincerely doubt this is true, but could he be a pawn for Being X and his clique? I know he’s my enemy, but is he my mortal enemy?

  “…I’m activating it. Theoretically, it will either work or the whole lab will blow up with us.”

  “I’m afraid that joke wasn’t funny, Lieutenant.”

  It wasn’t the least bit funny. Mostly because I was dead serious. But seeing as this thing is cursed, I don’t understand how this could end well.

  I run mana through the computation orb’s circuits and begin synchronizing the four cores. The energy flows absolutely smoothly, no difficulties whatsoever. As for the core synchronization, it’s so effortless I do it without thinking. The mana loss is undoubtedly on par with the theoretically projected value.

  Now I get it. Just going by its specs, I have to admit this truly is amazing. Definitely worthy of praise. But, although it’s truly regrettable, this thing is cursed.

  “Oh, great are the wonders of the Lord. Praise the Lord and the glorious name of God,” I shout, the emotional words pouring from my mouth. Every cell in my body suddenly yearns to praise the Lord.

  “It worked? …It actually, really worked?!”

  When the observation team plunges into a whirl of astonishment, their shouts of wonder finally bring me back to myself.

  “…What did I just do?”

  What was I just thinking? What did I say? Did I offer praise? To that thing?!

  “Oh, Lieutenant. We share this faith, don’t we? It’s a miracle! A miracle!”