39. Metal Pan Factory (2)
Conveyor belts lined up in perfect order moved at a steady rhythm. The room was filled with white light, and the metallic arms of automated robots gleamed silver as they bustled about.
Overall, it was cutting-edge, with the overly bright white light tempered just right by the coolness of the metal, creating a harmonious palette.
Jinri and I began walking with the fresh excitement of elementary school students on a factory tour.
We were in a situation where we should be hurrying, yet overwhelmed by the vastness of the factory and the meticulously calculated mechanical beauty, we didn't even know where to head. Strangely, though, the perfect order gave off an atmosphere that convinced us, "If we just keep going, we'll reach the right destination." So, we proceeded at the slowest pace of our journey so far, as if on a leisurely stroll.
"It smells nice,"
Jinri murmured.
"Are they baking bread or something?"
I heightened my olfactory sensors and analyzed the fine particles in the room.
"No, it's mostly the smell of metal."
"Yeah," Jinri agreed. "It's like baking bread with metal flour."
"Metal bread, huh…" I made a slightly wry face. "I'm not really a fan. I have a metal allergy."
"Really?" Jinri said regretfully. "It's delicious, though. The texture is great too."
"I'll give you the texture, but it's a bit fishy or something…"
"Once you get used to it, that becomes its charm. It's like a quirky flavor."
Chatting about metal bread like that, we proceeded deeper into the factory.
"So, what kind of bread… no, what are they making here?" Jinri asked.
"Hmm."
Having been carefully analyzing the scent all along, I figured it out in 0.0035 seconds.
"Vehicles."
At my words, Jinri's olfactory sensors synced instantly, and she sniffed around like an excited puppy, confirming the surrounding smells.
"Flying ones."
"Yeah, no mistake. It's the smell of airplanes."
"I see," Jinri nodded. "So this is an airplane factory."
"But it's not just airplanes. All sorts of things are being made."
"Then let's look around more."
We went further in, but the factory was endlessly vast, as if it had no end.
And there was no one around.
"Excuse me!"
Unable to bear the utter silence any longer, I raised my voice and let it echo through the room, but there was no reply—just the busy sounds of the automated robot arms. Even though countless arms were moving vigorously with some unknown cutting-edge technology, it was almost noiseless, as if noise-canceling had been applied.
So, it was no wonder Jinri and I ended up like obnoxious students talking at normal volume in a quiet library.
Anyway, no reply.
And no one around.
In such a massive factory, just Jinri and me.
No other humanoids in sight—only countless factory arm robots crammed together on a scale of thousands.
The silence deepened the further we went.
While the surroundings grew brighter, the quiet became denser.
"It's kinda creepy,"
Jinri muttered in her usual tone, without seeming particularly scared. I actually felt a chill from her excessive calm but decided it was better than silence.
"It's not scary."
I deliberately chose the opposite words to distract myself—a psychological technique that works on humanoids as well as humans.
Then, a faint trace of fear finally began to show on Jinri's face.
It seemed Jinri was the reverse type.
I realized she was a humanoid robot model that resolved negative emotions by voicing her true feelings.
So, I corrected myself.
"Sorry, it actually is scary."
Relief colored Jinri's face, and she looked a bit reassured.
Even so, the fear that had sprouted didn't fully vanish, and she flashed an ambiguous smile, as if to say, "Well, it'll work out somehow."
Like that, while talking about our favorite types of bread, desperately running our CPUs at full throttle to break through this eerie factory's silence—as if mass-produced—we suddenly saw a shadow fall from above.
Instinctively, I gripped Jinri's hand and tried to pull her close to protect her, but I was a moment too late.
Something grabbed Jinri's other hand faster than me and yanked it up with force—no, in an instant.
"Jinri!"
I squeezed the hand I was already holding even tighter, but the force pulling her from the opposite side was too intense. If I stubbornly held on, her arm might break—no, it could be torn off—a sense of crisis flashed through me.
In the end, I yielded to the force and let go of her hand.
"Yura-kun!"
The instant I heard Jinri's scream, in less than 0.000000000000001 seconds, I realized letting go was the biggest mistake of my humanoid robot life since manufacture. I immediately reached out toward her receding hand.
And barely managed to grab it again.
But then I was dragged along with Jinri.
What was pulling Jinri's hand was a gigantic factory arm.
That arm was covered in patterns reminiscent of ancient runes etched in prehistoric murals, exuding a solemn presence as if it had been lurking since time immemorial.
It was a massive factory arm with overwhelming presence, its upper arm alone larger than us by a full size.
And finally, for the first time since entering this Metal Pan Factory, my auditory sensors picked up a voice other than Jinri's or mine.
"These…"
A mechanical yet surprisingly clear voice. It rang out overlooking us with pronunciation as crisp as a female announcer intentionally acting robotic.
"These impurities…"