…I knew it.
That idiot. What was he thinking with his Barrel that badly damaged?
You really are dumb. Did you do that because protecting people is a Knight Striker"s job? A lot of good that did when we were both taken out. Ha ha ha. You"re an idiot to the very end.
I can"t believe this…
I"m no match for you.
Out of the three Barrels on this mock battlefield, I"m the weakest one. Heinz Berge is far superior when it comes to combat ability and Phillip Missel is superior when it comes to the desire to protect someone.
I really can"t believe it. And I"m exhausted.
I"m tired.
So very tired…
The special battle was over in an instant.
That was a match that left us with a lot to think about. Why did Lieutenant Colonel Heinz Berge move so that Beretta McWild"s spear would hit him? Why did he need to make such an intense attack at the very end there? And why did Phillip Missel, who joined the German army, intervene to protect Miss Beretta, who should be his enemy?
There are a lot of questions here. But everyone at the mock battlefield should know that the final question has already been somewhat answered. When Miss Beretta"s Grazie and Mr. Phillip"s Expert de Épée collapsed, no one watching could move due to how incredible and quick a resolution it was. The only person moving was Mr. Phillip who kicked open the door to the Study on Expert de Épée"s back.
He only wore the pants of a German uniform with the jacket draped over his shoulders as he ran over to Grazie. The photo taken by our reporter shows how his right arm was broken, the bone was sticking out, and it was coated with blood.
He called out Miss Beretta"s name and opened Grazie"s Study. Miss Beretta was just as b.l.o.o.d.y as Mr. Phillip but she was unconscious as she rolled out in the nude. He wrapped her in his uniform"s jacket and - this is just like something he would do - carried her over his shoulder.
He looked up at the black Lourd de Marionnette standing at the center of the mock battlefield.
I imagine every French person at the mock battlefield could understand the anger in his eyes and face.
This likely came from the second question: Why did the German army"s strongest Lourd de Écrivain have to go that far?
According to those in the know, Lieutenant Colonel Berge"s movements arrived just below the speed of sound.
Even if he could not dodge Miss Beretta"s attack, couldn"t he have fought some other way? That is, other than performing a tackle that did not make use of his shield or sword.
Everyone saw that question in Mr. Phillip"s anger.
A few of the people who saw it concluded that the descendant of the Chevalier de Paris had not actually joined the Germans.
He attempted to protect our representative, Miss Beretta.
Meanwhile, Lieutenant Colonel Berge"s Rot Löwe wordlessly turned its back and left for the hangar.
According to the records, this was the first time in seven years that Lieutenant Colonel Berge was injured while Recréa-ing. The female Lourd de Écrivain who fearlessly confronted and injured him and the Chevalier de Paris who attempted to protect her are receiving Correcteur healing in the Paris General Hospital.
It seems the hospital"s director was personally watching the match at the mock battlefield.
He said they would be fully healed in time for the dance tonight and he would make sure they had a dance together.
Also, the Missel family says they will fully repair every Lourd de Marionnette that took part in these mock battles free of charge. Jean Missel, that hero of the previous great war, had come to view today"s battles and he must have been satisfied with his grandson"s performance.
Now, as I write this, we still have three hours until the dance in the courtyard.
What is going to happen there?
I am writing this inside the mansion. The school festival is having its dance. But I walked home.
A lot happened.
I could not move immediately after the Lourd de Marionnette battle ended. There were many reasons for that. But the biggest was that I could not believe Lady Beretta had lost. I Signe-d that she had won. And then the Ajouter of reality hit me.
Lady Beretta had lost. Lady Beretta, who had said she would protect us, had lost.
And Sir Phillip saved her and left the mock battlefield while I was still unable to move.
The old man sitting next to me nodded and then left as well.
I still could not move.
The next thing I knew I was sitting alone in the dining hall near the mock battlefield - it was Lady Mallette and that group that found me there - and had been there for four hours. The sun would be setting soon and things were growing noisy outside. A group known as the music club was beginning their night performance.
A few of Lady Mallette"s group went outside.
There would apparently be a dance party during that night performance. Everyone had gone to search for a partner.
Lady Mallette breathed cigarette smoke from her nose and said "well I shouldn"t have any trouble finding someone" despite not looking very confident.
She was keeping me company while I could not move. All of them are such good people. They really are. I had to return to the mansion and make dinner for the master. But I did not.
That was wrong of me. No one told me it was okay to do that. I had spent 15 years with the master telling me to do my job right. But I waited for Lady Beretta for myself and not for my job.
Why did I do that? I do not know.
I asked Lady Mallette about that and about something else that was bothering me. Why had I been unable to move immediately after Lady Beretta lost? And why was I waiting?
Lady Mallette gave a very simple answer.
"Isn"t that because you"re no longer just a machine?"
I am a machine. I am not human. But Lady Mallette made it sound so simple.
"If you were a machine you would have been able to move even after Beretta lost. But you were so shocked by it that you couldn"t move. And you"re still worried about her. You"re growing less and less perfect. As a machine I mean."
"So am I of poor quality if you view me as a machine?"
"I don"t think you were originally. But Beretta said you"re fine this way."
"Why would Lady Beretta say that about me? Do you believe her?"
"That girl won"t give many details. But she was born to a family of Belle de Marionnette engineers. Do you know how Belle de Marionnettes are treated in America?"
I said I did not and she smiled a little. As if to say there was no helping that.
She told me a lot:
America has a serious racial discrimination problem. To avoid dealing with their social problems they treat different races and Belle de Marionnettes as the undercla.s.s.Lady Beretta helped her parents by looking after the Belle de Marionnettes that had been left in a warehouse unable to move. She worked to bring them out into the world once more. She gave them names and had them grow more human. But then they told her what they had been through. They had all been overworked to the point of breaking down or treated like tools to be loved.Lady Beretta would make periodic repairs to the Belle de Marionnettes she had raised and sent to work in someone"s home. The owners would only ever demand the Belle de Marionnettes be made to do more work.And just before the next repair visit the Belle de Marionnettes would break themselves without telling her anything. Those given harsh jobs would intentionally place themselves in harm"s way during the course of their work. The ones used as tools to be loved would throw themselves down the stairs. They would destroy themselves.Lady Beretta would gather up their broken parts afterwards. Every time it was the same. Their joints and hearts would still be those of a doll. But they had always developed the ability to shed tears like a human.Those tears were shed by something inhuman. The only human ability they gained was the one to cry.
I have never shed tears. Kings and queens in picture books often shed tears when they lose their princess. Based on that and what Lady Mallette said I can a.s.sume that tears are shed when you feel a powerful emotion in response to losing something - and powerfully enough to feel the need to throw yourself down the stairs.
I can say that tears are brought by an unpleasant emotion.
That must be what is known as sorrow. I have yet to shed tears. That means I have never felt that unpleasant emotion. That must be because I am with Lady Beretta.
I kind of understand why Lady Beretta is so concerned with me. She had not told me the answer. But I felt like I understood it all.
It was selfish and uninvited. But it was not unpleasant.
She has never taught me an unpleasant emotion.
She has protected me.
This is what Lady Mallette said:
"That Phillip guy and Berretta are both Lourd de Écrivains who see protecting people as their primary duty. So it"s only natural for him to move when no one else can."
"Then can we just let them protect us?"
"That"s why you need to think about what happened today. You could not move for Beretta today. If you regret that then you may want to protect her. And…"
"And?"
"If you want to protect her then you first need to become the kind of person who will not worry her."
Lady Mallette added "like me" in a joking voice and laughed.
Become a person.
Lady Mallette"s words are right there in my memory.
I am not like the Belle de Marionnettes in America. I have not experienced anything unpleasant and I do not want to destroy myself. But can I never rid Lady Beretta of her worry as long as I am a Belle de Marionnette?
That must be why she gets angry when I treat myself like a doll. The unpleasant feelings inside her start to rise to the surface.
I thought through all that in the dining hall. I stopped thinking when Lady Beretta returned.
Her injuries were fully healed. She had changed clothes again. The clothes apparently belonged to Sir Phillip"s mother. She said they had stopped by his mansion to borrow them. They were large red clothes with the hem spread wide. They looked like something out of a picture book.
Sir Phillip arrived soon thereafter.
His injured right arm was wrapped in bandages and hanging from his neck by a sling. He was not fully healed because he did not receive Correcteur healing until after Lady Beretta.
Everyone cheered for them. Everyone slapped them on the head or poked at them. They seemed to be enjoying it and they were carried out into the courtyard.
I stayed on the outside of the group for a while. But then I went home. For some reason I felt like I could not be there. I cannot dance with my metal legs and that may have been part of it.
But there was a bigger reason.
I alone am different.I am not human. I am simply something that is protected.
But the other people treat me like I am human.
I do not like that kindness.
I want to truly be the same as Lady Beretta and Sir Phillip and Lady Mallette. I do not want to simply be taught and protected. If I was not a Belle de Marionnette then Lady Beretta would not have to worry so much. Sir Phillip would have greeted me normally when we first met. And Lady Mallette would invite me when she goes out drinking.
And today. I would have been able to move for Lady Beretta and I would have been able to dance…and I would not be writing this now.
I do not want to find myself unable to move when someone is hurt.
I thought about all this while walking back home alone.
I want to become human. But.
I am human.
I Signe that but the Ajouter always comes back the same:
Please.
I am human. I am human. I am human. I am human. I am human. I am human. I am human. I am human. I am human. I am human. I am human. I am human. I am human. I am human. I am human. I am human. I am human. I am human. I am human. I am human. I am human. I am human. I am human. I am human. I am human. I am human. I am human. I am human. I am human. I am human. I am human. I am human. I am human. I am human. I am human. I am human. I am human. I am human. I am human. I am human. I am human. I am human.
Why can"t I become human by writing this!?
Why does this city have the truth of Ajouter and not just what you Signe?
It would be so much easier if I could form myself from just my Signe. Am I missing something crucial needed to be human? I do not know. Perhaps I could become more human if I could shed tears?
But I cannot shed tears. Is my desire to be human weaker than my American brethren"s desire to destroy themselves?
I do not know. I do not know! I do not know!!
Can I become human with something so uncertain?
What am I supposed to do? I am conscious. I can speak. And yet I could not join in when doing so would have made me happier than anything.
I am a machine. I am not human. And that is everything.
Is becoming human a job for me? I understand that it is something I have tasked myself with. But is that what it is?
I might not find the answer right away. I will take my time thinking about it. Thinking is not my job. But this is necessary to become human.
Tomorrow will be spent cleaning up after the festival. It is supposed to start raining tonight so I think I will bring an umbrella with me.
Today went well.
First, I fought a battle and defeated two enemy Panzers. I was also injured for the first time in seven years.
After the battle, the 2nd Aide visited and asked me why I used such a harsh attack in the end. According to my memories, I did indeed perform a tackle at approximately 8 times normal power output at the end of the battle, but to be honest, I do not understand why I made that attack. So I was unable to answer him.
I had intended to block the rotating spear with my shield and then knock down the unbalanced enemy.
I will return to this subject later.
At 20:01, I repaired Rot Löwe in the training ground hangar. While I did, the mechanics arrived and asked whether or not they should bring Rot Löwe to the Missel family. They said all of the Grösse Panzers involved in the incident were being taken to the Missel family"s hangar where mechanics from across Paris were repairing them.
I told them I would repair Rot Löwe myself.
At 22:35, I completed the sight device replacement. After that, I extracted today"s combat records from the memory bank.
I determined the cause of my injury. I had spotted Jean Missel at the mock battlefield and the Psyche Outer device chose to erase the memory so it would not rattle me. I have concluded it was that slight time loss that allowed the attack to hit me.
But this is what I found when I Verbesserung-ed the record from the final attack I made on reflex instead of blocking the spear blow:
< p="">
Once more altering Schreiben user"s memory. A rapid return of a past memory has been confirmed. The return of memories in battle could provide a dangerous shock. Accessing the Psyche Outer mechanism to erase the resurrected memory.
After a 0.0000002 second separation, the memory connection with the Schreiben User will be reestablished.
I conclude I must make a charge.>
There must have been a second bout of confusion brought on by my memories and it was erased.
What did I remember during that attack? There is nothing in my memory now.
At 23:07, I returned to the barracks. Four doc.u.ments had arrived for me.
The first was from HQ saying my appointment as head of the Attesor Project Research Team had been delayed to July 1.
The second was from the 1st Aide reporting on the details of my platoon on the Normandy coast.
The third was from the Panzer Ritter Project Research Team saying they would quickly repair my prosthetic eye after today"s injury.
The fourth was from the army HQ saying I am released from my current mission and should hurry back to the main forces.
I have concluded my work in Paris as complete.
Tomorrow, I will receive the prosthetic eye surgery, complete my training of the Panzer unit, compile some doc.u.ments related to the Attesor Project, prepare for the journey, and then return to Normandy.