Chapter 2204: Chapter 2204

In just a few hours, it would be exactly one year since Jenkins had arrived in this world. Yet, aside from a brief encounter at a lava lake in the first Mysterious Realm, he had never had a deep conversation with any miners.

So, unlike with the governess and the newsboy, he was at a loss for how to start the conversation. To make matters worse, he had no idea what the miner's "Heart of Unwearying Labor" even meant.

It was a bland opening. The miner, who had been curled up resting, answered as if only just noticing Jenkins:

His command of the common tongue wasn't perfect, and he spoke with a thick, unplaceable accent. Yet, the miner showed no surprise at the sudden appearance of a well-dressed stranger—one holding a cat, no less—in the mine. All he wanted was to rest.

Jenkins asked, feeling the conversation's awkwardness himself.

"You see? You fancy yourself an expert on this world, but you don't even understand the life of an ordinary person."

The clockwork man standing beside him jeered. Jenkins ignored it.

"Speaking of which, can you even find anything in such a shallow part of the mine?"

They were quite close to the mine's entrance, and the main tunnel obviously extended much deeper, which Jenkins found puzzling.

The miner shook his head, clearly not in the mood to talk. Jenkins noticed that, besides his pickaxe, he had a metal flask—probably for water—and a half-open iron lunchbox containing what looked like the last of some breadcrumbs. The man must have been underground for hours.

"I noticed there seems to be an open-pit mine nearby?"

He'd seen it when they landed.

"Yes, that one's a real rich deposit. You can find something practically just by digging at the surface."

"So, couldn't you work over there? It's still mining, but working above ground has to be safer and less strenuous, right?"

"More money underground. Less on the surface."

He didn't deny Jenkins's conclusion, but he had his own reasons.

"Right. More strenuous, more dangerous... so naturally, the pay is better. Is it enough to live on?"

The miner lapsed back into his taciturn state.

Even Jenkins knew it was a foolish question. The miner didn't deign to answer, merely shooting him a look.

It was a stupid question.

Jenkins understood the lives of a noble girl's governess and a newsboy; he could imagine their worlds. That was why he'd been able to connect with the first two targets so easily. But a miner from the lowest rungs of society? He was utterly out of his depth.

This wasn't a combat-oriented Mysterious Realm. Jenkins could brawl with an ancient balrog, but this social impasse was giving him a headache.

Of his remaining abilities, only [Spiritual Communion] seemed potentially useful. Then again, Jenkins highly suspected the miner's inner thoughts consisted of little more than 'tired,' 'hungry,' 'thirsty,' and 'stranger, leave me alone so I can rest.'

Fortunately, while the joys and sorrows of one person are rarely understood by another, basic human needs are universal. Jenkins decided to change tack and steer away from the topic of work:

"Do you have family?"

"Yes. A wife, a son. Had a daughter, too. She died in the spring."

There was no emotion in his words, only numbness.

"How old is your son?"

"Turned five this summer."

Given the custom of marrying young among the poor, Jenkins could hazard a guess at the miner's age. He certainly didn't look like a man in his twenties.

"Are you going to have him learn to read?"

"Of course. Can't have him end up like me."

After another silent pause, he added:

"I've heard that some political exiles or the widows of officials run small home-schools. They teach whatever they know, and the tuition is cheap."

"Yes. I plan on sending him to a place like that to learn his letters when he's a bit older. As long as he doesn't end up like me, I don't care how much he learns."

The miner shifted restlessly in his cramped corner, likely imagining some terrible future.

"That's right. Literacy opens doors. At the very least, he could find work as a copyist, or get a job in a factory. I hear the factories are always looking for literate workers, and they pay better than those who can't read."

Most factories in this era were hardly ideal, but they were a world away from the mines. A good life was all relative, and to the miner, the future Jenkins painted was incredibly appealing.

It was the first time he had called Jenkins 'sir.' With a pained grunt, he shifted his weight, turning to look up into Jenkins's eyes. It was dark deep in the earth, but the miner's eyes shone brightly:

"You think... a child of someone like me could really learn to read? He's a bit slow."

"Bloodline doesn't affect intelligence, and even if it did, it wouldn't stop him from learning to read. Did he learn to talk at a normal age?"

"Yes. His first word was 'Papa.'"

"Then he can definitely learn to read. You don't need to worry about that."

A rough smile cracked the grime on the miner's face. It wasn't a handsome sight, but it was utterly sincere:

"It'll be different. It'll definitely be different."

With those words, he braced himself against the rough-hewn wall and pushed himself to his feet. He took a few gasping breaths, coughed, and wiped his face with the towel draped around his neck. Then he spat into his palms, gripped his pickaxe, and began to work again.

He didn't have much muscle on him; even as the wiry man moved, all you could see were the protruding bones of his back.

Jenkins simply watched him. Then, a heart-shaped diamond materialized over the miner's heart. This gem was even warmer than the one he'd received from the boy; cradling it in his palm, he could feel its searing heat.

"I don't understand."

the clockwork man admitted:

"Why did that happen? You barely said anything. How was it so simple? Even simpler than with the governess?"

"For change. For the next generation. He's willing to work himself to death, to trade his very life for money, all to change his child's fate."

The clockwork man shook its head:

"Fate never changes. People just have a flawed understanding of it, which leads them to believe that their actions can alter what was already set in stone."

"I agree with that sentiment. If fate were completely unknowable, it would be no different from fate not existing at all."

Jenkins looked at the diamond in his hand:

"It's burning hot..."

"That's why I've always believed that even machines must have a heart, must have emotions, to be complete. In this world, feelings—emotions—are catalysts for extraordinary power."

Neither of them paid any mind to the rhythmic clanging of the pickaxe as the clockwork man and Jenkins walked back the way they had come. They chatted as they went, looking for all the world like two travelers just passing through the era.

"Speaking of fate, since you also believe it isn't entirely knowable, what do you think an unknown destiny represents?"

the clockwork man asked.

"I'm not sure I understand what you mean."

"Take that miner, for example. From his perspective, the future for him and his family is set on a fixed course. Any small change would just be a shift from being a dockworker to a factory hand, or from a sailor to a miner. But from our perspective, his family is brimming with possibilities. Every new dawn could bring a new story, every moment an unexpected turn. Every decision they make, large or small, will have unforeseeable consequences for their future.

This is a magnificent era, filled with countless opportunities and mishaps waiting for every single person. The future can be divined or calculated, but no prediction can ever be perfectly accurate down to the last detail. So, what does an unknown destiny truly mean to people?"

"It represents possibility. The possibility that can exist, as long as you believe in yourself."

"Just possibility? I thought you were going to say that if you believe in yourself, you'll always succeed."

"We both know that's just something people say to make themselves feel better. The path ahead is interesting precisely because it's unknown. If a person's short life had no variables from the moment they were born, wouldn't that be dreadfully boring?"

Jenkins said, then turned the question back:

"So, what does an unknown fate mean to you? Humans hope for an unknown destiny, because only then is change possible. But for a machine whose fundamental logic is one plus one equals two, the unknown can't be a good thing, can it? After all, a machine can't calculate the unknown."

"While I cannot calculate the unknown, I can establish a system to run numerical simulations of a chaotic system."

That left Jenkins speechless. He hadn't expected the Difference Engine to have reached such a level.

"Whether fate is unknown has no effect on me whatsoever. But for you... aren't you [The Unknown Path]?"

The two continued up the tunnel. The exit was not far ahead.

"Savior Williams, I only recently came to understand it. Your very first emblem was Destiny itself—a fact as astonishing as you being the God of Lies. The unknown fate manifests through you. Your every action stirs the currents of destiny, interfering with my models like a completely incalculable variable. So, does this mean that you, the symbol of [The Unknown Path], can perceive the unknown destiny of the world, just as we perceive the unknown possibilities in that miner's life?"

"So that's why you wanted to see the miner—to ask me this. And here I thought you were trying to learn about human emotion. I figured that, as a machine that can't have a bloodline of its own, you wanted to understand humanity's feelings for family to shore up your own soul and speed up the fusion of the Mechanical Heart and the first steam engine."

Jenkins retorted with a long, sarcastic spiel. Even the clockwork man couldn't tell whether he believed his own theory.