–But the Doctor did use to work here?
–Dr. Easter is the youngest member of the team here. He’s known as the Black Sheep.
–Black Sheep?
–When it became necessary for a scapegoat to accept responsibility for the alleged war crimes, he voluntarily put himself forward as the sacrificial lamb. Well, there were a few who had to do this, but Dr. Easter was a special case.
–In what way special?
–Out of all the researchers, he was the biggest advocate of the view that their research should be turned over for the benefit of civilians. So, when the Three Magi put forward their proposal for Scramble 09, he was the first volunteer. Even though he’d go straight to prison if it failed. That’s why he’s the Black Sheep.
–Three Magi?
–The three founders of Paradise. Two of them have left, of course, so it’s just the One Wise Man at the moment.
–The two who left set up Mardock Scramble? Balot asked, thinking that the conversation was starting to take a strange turn. It wasn’t really hitting home that they were now talking about how she, ultimately, was rescued just a little while ago.
–No, one of them originated the idea of Mardock Scramble, but the other one thought of a different path and opposed the abolition of the Research Facility.
–A different path?
–She founded OctoberCorp.
Balot’s footsteps stopped abruptly.
–What’s the matter?
Tweedledee looked puzzled. Balot shook her head absentmindedly. She felt as if she’d just been told why she was killed and why she was saved all at once.
Suddenly Balot remembered what the Doctor had said right at the very start, when they first met. OctoberCorp—whose usefulness consisted of supplying a steady stream of amusement to the denizens of Mardock City—was his nemesis, against everything that he and Oeufcoque stood for.
Still, Balot had no idea what she was supposed to do with this information at the moment.
–Is Oeufcoque also known as a Black Sheep? Balot asked. She resumed walking.
–Nah, he’s the Golden Egg. All the other researchers at Paradise wanted a piece of him.
Tweedledee giggled.
–But all he wanted to do was get outside. And the researcher who founded Scramble 09 was also Oeufcoque’s inventor, you see. So no one could stop him from leaving Paradise. But everyone says they never imagined in a million years he’d end up teaming up with the Black Sheep or the Rusty Gun.
He suddenly turned to Balot as if he’d just noticed her for the first time.
–The Rusty Gun is a man that you know. Dimsdale-Boiled.
Only when he spoke his name did she actually get it.
–Sounds like you’re the one who knows everything.
Balot shrugged her shoulders, bracing herself against the pain that inevitably followed.
She was beginning to relax around this young man, so intelligent and yet so innocent. The idea of conflict seemed to be an alien concept to this Tweedledee. He had the placid demeanor of someone who had never been troubled by any sort of disturbances during his upbringing—and yet he wasn’t excessively clingy or needy.
Hand on the wall, Balot moved on, dragging her whole body along with her. Her muscles were inflamed, and in particular both her wrists were swollen. Yet Tweedledee made no effort to help her or even to adjust his pace to match hers. He talked as he liked and walked as he liked. Not selfishly, exactly, for every once in a while he paused to give Balot the opportunity to catch up. He showed no sign of irritation or impatience.
