O-03-03
Its eye sockets are empty. It is a skull, after all. But I doubt it is blind. It certainly has its gaze fixed on me, and I can somehow feel that it's listening to me.
"Let's see… I've been tasked to perform Insight Work with you, One Sin and Hundreds of Good Deeds. According to my new colleagues, who you have already met, I just have to confess to you…"
Level 1 sins are small lies or actions that either go unnoticed or can be jested about.
Level 2 sins are more serious and can only be shared with close friends.
Level 3… those are so profound they cannot be shared with anyone and are usually taken to the grave.
I looked at the records. Although the report didn't contain their name, I knew Laurence was the one who told the story about the guy who was shot in a deer's costume. They were the type of person who would bully 0-00-00, so I'm sure they told O-03-03 nothing but self-serving lies amidst some truths.
Marette, on the other hand, was instructed to share a Level 3 sin. 1 minute and 48 seconds afterwards, a bright flash of light was seen seeping through the containment unit's door. Immediately afterwards, there was a facility-wide power outage. Thankfully, O-03-03 was the only abnormality in the facility at the time, so no trumpets had to be sound. Marette, however, lost 6 years of their memories. Whatever was weighing on their chest, O-03-03 ate it.
"How do you eat, exactly? Do you munch with your teeth? Or is it something less visual?"
Asking my question to the abnormality was pointless. It was there to listen to my sins, not to engage in minor chatter… It probably wasn't even able to do the latter.
So, I heaved a sigh and faced the fear within. Time to tell that giant skull attached to a cross that wears a crown of thorns and floats 2 meters above the ground.
"I was born a child at the Backstreets of District 12. My parents died to the Smoke War, so I was an orphan. Honestly, I don't know how I survived up to this day. I guess I got lucky. Ah, but that is no sin. That's not what you're here to listen to. I'll get to the point. You see? There was once a case of another child in the Backstreets that got rescued from their miserable situation. It was quite insignificant, but it was quite the sensation at the time. He ate the mutant mush that grew on tin can and cried about it. They even had the gall to denounce the rich's corruption. So sweet. There is so much worse shit happening there, it irked me that only that pathetic case got to the media."
The skull looked a little brighter, as if it had already eaten something.
"Ah, but that wasn't the topic I was trying to get at, One Sin. You see? I did much worse things at the Backstreets in order to survive… Do you know the Sweepers? Liquefied flesh monsters. They attack people with hooks capable of turning anything into liquid so they can slurp it and extend their lives. Some other times, they just kidnap orphans like me and convert them into new members of their families. What I went through… well. It's something I have not told anyone yet because it's not the type of story you share during mealtime. My best friend, me and a bunch of other orphans got tricked into going to a charity in order to eat something. Sweepers poured from everywhere and started napping kids. The ones who resisted the most got hooked into liquid. My best friend… Louis… they protected me. Their body turned to liquid and covered mine. Somehow, the Sweepers left me for dead, without even sweeping Louis remains from me. Then… I was cruelly reminded of my dire situation: I was hungry. So I drank my best friend from the dirty ground. I only wished I could have thanked him for rescuing me twice. When he protected me from the hook and when he rescued me from my hunger. Truly… Louis was my hero…"
A red unhappy face shone on the door's window. The work was over. I retrieved my documents from my lap and stood up. Why did One Sin not take my memories like it took Marette's? If I had to wager, I'd say it was because I didn't feel that much guilty. To bear guilt means to have the power of changing things and regretting your choice. I had no power to change anything… and even if cried while drinking my friend, I didn't regret nourishing to live longer.
It matters little the truth within the sins we tell O-03-03. What really matters are the emotions we show. That thing… People think that it feeds on the "evil" that seeps out during conversations between people. it doesn't really feed on sins. It likes sins because they bring forth the most intense feelings on their bearers. Its name… It makes sense now. It may be doing hundreds of good deeds by relieving the pain of people who suffer, but its ultimate singular sin is eating people's emotions to the extent of erasing their memories of it. The degree in which it succeeds depends on the regret the one who confesses feels. I never get good results with One Sin because I accepted my past and embrace it, unlike many others.
Writing down my personal notes on the abnormality, I stepped outside the containment unit.
"[CONFIDENTIAL ID]! You failed your work again! It's only a ZAYIN! Are you not following the managerial tips you were given? If you are to keep working on the Control Team, you have to perform much better than that!"
The thing that never got tired of putting pressure on the Control Team as if we were the center of the universe was Malkuth, my department's Sephirah. I'm told that she is another AI, like Angela. I never understood the difference between humans and machines, anyway. That's something only The Head bothers to control. Despite their metallic bodies, if they manifest desire, what are they, but living creatures?
I'm not sure about Angela, but Malkuth sweated desire from every seam of her metallic husk. Her body had a squared shape. Her name displayed in bright letters over the cavity where a digital yellow eye looked at me angrily. Despite being a machine, she wasn't taller than me, which gave her genderless appearance cuter. Her slim mechanical arms held a to-do list and a pen. On top, a red streak line resembled a hair band.
"Are you even listening to me?!"
"I am, miss Malkuth. However, I don't think I will ever produce good results with O-03-03. We are… incompatible."
"Don't give me that! Angela is counting on us to produce energy before the day ends, so you have to get good results with every abnormality here!"
Her passion for work was suffocating me.
"Why don't you work on the abnormalities yourself then?"
"I cannot do that. I am a Sephirah. Me interacting with them would yield no results."
"And results are everything for you, huh? Do you even know the price employees will have to pay each time they work on an abno? Do you know what I almost lost to One Sin?"
The flustered Sephirah looked through the notes she held, similar to mine. However, hers had official reports, confidential data and a bunch of attached papers with scribbled notes to remind herself of what's expected of the Control Team.
She found One Sin's documents.
"You are absolved of your sins. Is that a bad thing? You should feel grateful to work on O-03-03! You have no idea of what is yet to come…"
"You're right, miss Malkuth. I'm lucky I am still alive, considering there are four more danger level above a ZAYIN. If I get to enjoy the savings I make from working for the Wing, I will be extremely fortunate. However, if I have to die in this place, I'd like to still be the person that I am, not some husk of my former self."
I was ready to receive my punishment for my insubordination, but my comment impacted my Sephirah so much she was left without words.
I sighed.
"I'm sorry, miss. I'm being unreasonable. I will make my best attempt at satisfying your demands. I am grateful for working for Lobotomy Corporation. It's better than being extorted of my money from a certain Finger's subsidiaries."
The skull looked at me once more with its non-existent eyes. I readied myself to be stolen of my stories. I fed it insignificant chatter that I made up before entering. I wouldn't care to lose stories that never happened. One Sin wasn't bothered by that either way.
Upon finishing the day's quota, I met with Marette and Laurence to review the day. The former was discharged from the infirmary and debriefed of their current duties within L Corp –to compensate for their amnesia–. The later just commented on their relief. They thought our work would be much harder than that, but it was a pleasant surprise everything we had to was talk to some dumb religious skull and move on with our lives. The jerk didn't even pity their colleagues who just lost 6 years of their lives. Still, they were the jerk I would be working with for a long time, so I tried my best to fit in the group.
