Psycho Pass: Redemption (UPDATING)

6 (UPDATED)

The day was perfectly cloudy and humid. The seats in the academy courtyard were cold and deserted, the only company was the sound of silence, so expectant, so lonely at the same time; few people could appreciate it and instead feared it, ignored it. Yet Yashiro had realized the beauty of its simplicity.

When the wind blew in her face and made her look away, she saw a figure sitting on one of the stone seats, with one leg over the other and hands clasped on his thigh, looking up at the gray sky. At that moment, the desire to sit next to him and analyze his reaction crossed her mind. Would he be surprised by the unexpected closeness? Would he turn away from her out of discomfort? Or would he tell her all his problems, as many people used to do in the squares?

And yet her body moved away from the image without realizing that she had walked to the empty academy library, where she often stayed to hang out. She went to the science fiction area and picked up a book she had started reading a few days earlier, which was still in the same place.

Like an algorithm following its programming, she first felt the scent of the pages and then succumbed to the pleasure of enveloping herself in a different world, letting her thoughts flow freely until she reached the mental climax.

"I am the verb, and my name cannot be pronounced. It is the name which no one knows. They call me Ubik, but Ubik is not my name. I am. I shall always be," came a soft, deep voice.

Looking up, Yashiro met a tall, amber-eyed young man with snow-white hair. He was dressed in a yellow vest and pants, and matching moccasins. He would be a few years older than she was. She remembered the image from the courtyard and her expression darkened as she realized it was the same man she had seen before. He sat in the nearest armchair, in a formal, inquisitive posture.

"The metaphor of God," Yashiro blurted out.

With one leg crossed over the other, he leaned forward as he scrutinized her with shrewd and prominent eyes, cordial and penetrating at once. The man kept an expression of professional friendliness on his face, a steady and determined attention that was immersed in Yashiro, whom he did not know, but studied intently, drawn to something she was unaware of, as he raised his head slightly in a defiant gesture.

"The spray can is merely a form Ubik takes to make it easier for people to understand and use," the man continued. "It's not the substance inside the can that helps them, but their faith in the promise that it will help them."

Yashiro's eyes widened. They were silent for several seconds.

"Whoever has the audacity to delve into the works of Philip K. Dick is worthy of my attention," he smiled. "I'd like to chat. May I ask your name?"

"Takahashi Yashiro," she replied slowly, frowning.

"Shibata Yukimori," he answered.

Yashiro studied his features and his appearance, leaving the copy of Philip K. Dick on a small table beside her and stretching out in the armchair. He did the same with the book he was holding and clasped his hands together on his thigh.

"Rousseau was ahead of his time when he stated that man is condemned to be free, but is everywhere in chains," he declared. "What are we willing to sacrifice for welfare, order, peace? As John Stuart Mill anticipated centuries ago: today's society is fully aware of individuality, and the danger that looms over human nature is no longer excess, but lack of personal impulse and preference. And a human being without desire or impulse has no more character than a steam engine."

"The tyranny of custom," she remarked with a frown. "Any singularity of taste, any originality of conduct is avoided as if it were a crime—"

"Because it really is," he quickly replied. "As soon as the social order is broken, the price is paid by all: both those who corrupt it to do harm... and those who decide to risk being different by creating something new. Because the Sibyl System does not find differences, it only regulates entities, each and every one of them, as if they were one."

Freedom has consequences, as there will always be someone who steps out of line, who breaks the barriers imposed by the system. And that implies that there will always be someone who has a different vision of what well-being represents. Was that the end of humanity, in every sense of the word? Were they really going to sacrifice their nature for the sake of order and peace? Yashiro remembered Ouryou Roichi and his intriguing paintings, which would later be dusty and lying around in some room somewhere, with no audience to give them recognition and credit.

"An anthill where each individual belongs to society, serving his fellow man with a function that exploits his possibilities, but of which he is not aware," Yashiro continued. "And for people to develop, they have to live in an environment of freedom. Otherwise, there will no longer be universal tradition and paradigm breakers, as Charles Darwin or Galileo Galilei were in their time..."

He turned to the window facing outside and a few rays of light merged with the amber glow in his eyes.

"People can choose, but they are unable to act based on their individual interests. They have freedom, but they cannot exercise it," he said quietly, pausing for a long moment. "The value of a State is that of the individuals who compose it, but when it dwarfs its members, when it postpones their intellectual expansion to increase that of its administrative capacities, it realizes that the perfection of the mechanism for which it has sacrificed them lacks vital power, for in order for the mechanism to function it decided to destroy the source of that power—the individual."

Silence fell between the two for a few moments. He studied her features closely.

"You are an inhabitant of Kafka's castle," she guessed, squinting. "You chose to stay and protect it even though you could leave, even though... the doors were closed to you from the very beginning."

Yashiro frowned at the man's analytical gaze, which at that moment denoted a weight that although he tried to hide, she could recognize. For a second a smile escaped his lips and his gaze stopped on the bookshelf behind Yashiro.

"I was born in this city, and so I feel a responsibility to do something, to not let it perish," he sighed with a more serious expression. "If you had everything at your disposal, would you not be willing to free society?"

"It's society that must do so of its own free will."

His eyes widened, but returned to the same seriousness as before seconds later.

"While you wait for people to become aware on their own, I act when I have the chance to give them power," he declared.

"While you blame the Sibyl System, I blame the people," she gestured with her index finger as if touching her head. "Rational beings waiting to be judged by a gun when reason should suffice to direct them. Free people would immediately create a government if it were taken from them, conducting public affairs in an intelligent and orderly manner."

At that moment, a high-pitched, repetitive sound burst into the atmosphere. Yashiro blinked as she realized it came from him, who took a few seconds to look away from her. He rolled up the left cuff of his white shirt and checked the time on his leather watch, turning off the alarm. The dial was gear-shaped, and added to the rounded hands and Roman numerals, it gave it a Victorian style.

"I'm afraid our talk has come to an end," he said slowly. "I have a class to teach in ten minutes."

"I apologize for causing you such a delay."

He frowned and picked up the book he had left on the table. Then he got up, followed by her.

"For this kind of conversation, I'd make it a habit to be late."

They placed the books in their respective shelves and before leaving the library, they bid farewell to the kind woman who cleaned the dust from the books, although the environment was always in perfect condition and the books ordered according to their genre.

"If there is a god playing dice with the world, I hope it will be in our favor again next time," he remarked, gazing up at the sky.

With one last parting glance, their paths diverged. Yashiro was still processing the entire conversation when she crossed the courtyard of the academy.