The flames rose gently in the fireplace, pushing the gloom out of the room. The warmth they emanated filled the entire room with an almost unearthly warmth. He set down the book he was carrying on the small table adjacent to his couch, staring into the darkness as if he could see or hear something that was part of another dimension. At one point he heard slow footsteps in his direction, and knew who it was automatically when a quiet, old melody drifted through the room, accompanying his walk. That mansion needed an owner to give it meaning, not only hunting dogs in the garden to show off its power.
"Always reading Bertrand Russell. I would expect nothing less from you, Makishima-kun."
Makishima Shougo let out an amused smile at the comment, and raised her head towards him. As a public figure she usually wore formal clothes to maintain her reputation, however, when she was with him, she usually wore more casual attire. In this case, it was a black sweater over a light blue shirt, with simple dark pants and leather shoes. He had always been of refined manners and conveyed this in his distinguished appearance, but also in his posture and movements. La Traviata flooded the room in ecstasy as it gave way to an Italian voice. Libiamo, libiamo ne'lieti calici...
"You know me well enough to know I can't resist."
The older man gave a half smile, as he walked over to his desk and turned on the lamp above it. He liked to wipe every inch of his shotgun with a cloth, especially after one of his fox hunts. Despite the distance, he could see a faint gleam in his big green eyes, which were constantly open and never blinked.
A single glance was not enough to realize that in reality, Senguuji Toyohisa's entire body was artificial, except for his nervous system and brain. Thanks to this, he had been able to live for over a hundred years. Many respected him for his wisdom, others hated him for his dehumanization.
However, his ambition knew no bounds and he dreamed of living longer, until he reached immortality. As Makishima watched him, he could not help but think of Dorian Gray. A person who sought to live in the present, to remain forever young like a diamond shining in all its splendor. The day society achieves immortality, if it ever does, will be the end of humanity and all that made them human, for you can only appreciate life when you know the uncertainty of death. After all, games are always more terrifying, difficult and entertaining when they have a time limit, which is why Makishima loved that game called life.
He imagined Yashiro's youthful figure in the armchair in front of him, wondered if she would think like him on various issues they had not yet exposed. He sensed that behind that distant gaze hid a fascinating temperament. Would she be like a chess queen, willingly hiding her true potential? Or was she nothing more than a pawn like the others?
He imagined a world in which human beings would have transcended in such a way that they were able to govern themselves. He would do everything in his power to achieve this, because he would not wait for someone else to do it, he would not pray for a hero or trust in the afterlife or resurrection. Death was something natural that every living being had to accept. And human beings, out of desperation, just as they created cars and buildings, also created gods. However, he hoped that a few centuries later this would not happen again for the sake of humanity, nature and life itself.
The society in which they lived was plagued by people incapable of thinking and deciding for themselves, as they allowed their lives to be determined, granting them their most desired pleasures without contemplation. He could not bear to see them turned into pets that wagged their tails when they were fed, he could not accept that they preferred to remain prisoners like birds in the big cage that the system had created. Was that the price they had to pay for welfare?
Abandon all traces of individualism, knowing that this has always characterized human beings and has differentiated them, to a great extent, from all other living beings? How could they prosper without brilliant minds? What progress would they make if the population was represented by worthless, mediocre beings, who did not think of the future and lacked ideals of their own? Their personalities were projected by the system. They lived a life that was not living, they were dead in life.
Mankind was always in search of order and peace, getting their hands dirty in the process, devastating everything in their path, sometimes believing themselves corrupted by society, as Rousseau thought, who claimed that their fellow men were innocent and kind and only wanted to survive, when in reality the problem had been themselves from the beginning, due to their nature, and in that Makishima agreed with Hobbes, that man was a wolf for another man. Human beings shared an equality at birth, but then they overcame themselves individually through intelligence and the use of reason. While Aristotle understood man as a social animal, Hobbes held that society arose from an artificial arrangement based on self-interest that sought security through fear of others, so that the State or Republic arose.
What better than to deprive each person of everything that made them human? Was it not more beneficial to turn them into mere cattle instead of leaving them in their natural state? How could they reconcile lives worth living if to create meant to break the rules, to have real value was to be a criminal? The Sibyl System regulated people's behavior to make them similar, suppressing all individual morality. I could find no difference between people who deviated from the law to create something and people who deviated to do harm, and sometimes there was no difference at all, for the system only regulated.
In the past, for a Greek it was preferable to die than to be exiled, since the dead person continued to be part of a family in which he was remembered and venerated, but the exiled person, being excluded from the community, also ceased to be part of humanity. Aristotle said that a man who did not need his community was a god or a beast, a being superior or inferior to man, but never a man. And to the system, Makishima was but a shadow. Since childhood he had ceased to be human, and yet he felt more human than all those wandering faces. He had nothing, he had no one, except his ideal of freeing society from the Sibyl System. He might fail, but he was willing to make the sacrifice. Would she be as well?
The sound of the music was gratifying and calmed his thoughts, for the moment, because one way or another he returned to the same thing, and it was the quiet face of that young woman he hardly knew, who seemed to have much in common with him and nothing at the same time, like two opposing forces fighting. È un fior che nasce e muore....
"While you blame the Sibyl System, I blame the people."
Makishima did not realize that he had clenched his fist so tightly that he seemed to be about to hurt his skin. Those words were insignificant to him and yet he could not stop thinking about them. The Sibyl System was guilty, why could she not understand it? Why not destroy it once and for all? In questo, in questo paradiso ne scopra il nuovo dì...
"It's society that must do so of its own free will."
He focused his gaze on the fire. Those words transformed his appearance, triggered something inside him. He longed to prove her wrong until she finally accepted the way he intended to change society. These people were not ready to decide about their lives, and he could not simply wait for them to open their eyes. Someone had to guide them and teach them to do it for themselves.
He was aware that, if he really wanted to influence a whole mass, he needed the help of other people. And he had the feeling that they could get a lot out of her, if he could convince her first. He was curious to know how far she would be willing to go, if she really had the courage. Would she let him down like all the others before her? How long would it take for her to break down? Would he finally find a tool that would never wear out?
"I sense an unusual tension in you," Senguuji brought him back to reality.
The small flames seemed to dance together to the music, and Makishima watched them for a long time, to concentrate on something other than the image of Yashiro. He found it surprising that in all that time he had been reflecting on that young woman, to the point of forgetting reality.
"I found a very sharp Swiss Army knife, but its various functions cannot be used by simple persuasion."
Senguuji laid his shotgun gently on the desk, as well as the cloth he had used to clean it until then. His transparent gaze remained fixed on the fire, until he focused on his guest with a knowing and somewhat amused smile, closing one of his hands to cup his chin.
"You mean he's a difficult person?" Senguuji paused briefly. "You mean the girl you were telling me about the other day?"
"Ouryou Rikako is also an interesting piece that is part of the act, but I have a feeling that this one is not just a pawn. She's a player like us, or will be one day."
"I have obtained the equipment you requested," Senguuji poured himself a glass of wine.
Makishima turned his head towards him and smiled with narrowed eyes. Music reigned in the room once again, intoxicating them with true delight as night fell.