Chapter 12: Indirect Assessment

Just after three that afternoon, Paper Hero made his way to the familiar entrance of HL Northern Second Branch in the Crown Commandery, still wearing his shabby trench coat and flat cap. He had only just recovered from serious injuries, but they no longer affected his ability, so he had come.

Paper Hero had a fairly good impression of the man called Time Attendant. Even his obvious personality flaws made him more approachable than someone full of bureaucratic platitudes.

The receptionist knew Paper Hero quite well too. They exchanged a few pleasantries, and Paper Hero went in on his own. He dropped by Malone's office every few days anyway, as dutiful as a man going to his mother-in-law's to do chores. Showing him the way or announcing him would have been pointless.

As usual, Paper Hero went straight in without knocking and was greeted by the following sight: Time Attendant was lying on Malone's desk doing sit-ups, while Malone held his legs down.

For the first few seconds, Paper Hero wondered whether Blood Owl had damaged his brain or left him with serious psychological aftereffects. Or perhaps he was still comatose in the hospital, and everything before him was the nightmare of a man in a vegetative state.

He was not left to drift in bewilderment for long. Time Attendant spotted him and got down from the desk. “You're here. Good. Come with me.”

Time Attendant led the way, with Paper Hero and Malone following. Paper Hero gave Malone a very strange look, somewhere between disgust and contempt. Malone wore the expression of a man past caring how much worse things could get and calmly put a cigar between his lips. “After he got back from the hospital, he came to my office to wait for you. About thirty seconds after sitting down, he looked absolutely horrified and announced, with tremendous urgency, that his life was being wasted.”

Paper Hero gave Malone a skeptical sidelong look. “So he's been doing sit-ups on your desk for two hours?”

“No. First came shuttle runs, then handstands, then push-ups, then squat jumps back and forth, then handstand walks back and forth...” Malone's eyes had seen too much. “Between exercises, he does a set of sit-ups as a rest break.”

The corner of Paper Hero's mouth kept twitching. “You did tell him there's a gym on the second floor...”

Time Attendant interrupted them with another machine-gun burst of speech. “Waiting in the office for you to arrive and then proceeding immediately to the underground testing area is the most efficient arrangement. If I exercised in the second-floor gym, the colonel would have to notify me of your arrival, I would have to come to the office, and only then could we head underground. The communication time, unnecessary distance traveled, and all other factors combined would waste approximately eight to ten minutes.

“In that time, I could listen to two songs, eat lunch, use the toilet, do two sets of eye exercises, play three rounds of Fight the Landlord, read approximately three thousand characters of written material, and so on and so forth. And that's without considering how many of those activities I could do two at a time.”

Malone covered his face and shook his head. “That's what he said when I told him where the gym was.”

Paper Hero sighed. “All right. I'm beginning to understand how you feel.”

Time Attendant went on without looking back. “Life is very short, gentlemen. Making effective use of every minute and every second, doing more than others in the same amount of time, constitutes a profit. There's an old Eastern saying that an inch of time is an inch of gold. By that reckoning, I'm a billionaire, while you two are destitute.”

Paper Hero shrugged. “A couple of years ago, I heard a nobleman say something that seems worth quoting here. The gist was, ‘The poor ought to be penniless, and the rich deserve their fortunes.’”

Time Attendant replied, “Don't you find people who hold that view utterly repellent?”

“Of course I do,” Paper Hero said. “The son of a bitch. But you have to admit, that's reality.”

Time Attendant glanced back at him. “I see. Your position is that, whatever happens, you and I can never agree on our attitude toward time, so I might as well let you wallow in your own degradation and die poor. Is that it?”

Paper Hero laughed. “Ha ha ha! I'm so glad you understand.”

Malone blew a smoke ring and joined in with a smile. “I'm beyond saving too. Please don't pity me.”

Time Attendant looked puzzled. He had completely missed the joke. “You're both older than me, yet you still squander your time for no reason. Your attitudes toward work and life are truly beyond remedy.” By then, he had reached a door. He held his magnetic card up to the scanner, and the door opened automatically.

“All right. Our incidental conversation while walking has now concluded at four minutes and twenty-three seconds. Please cooperate so we can finish the work as quickly as possible. I plan to board a plane before five, complete my written report during the flight, fax it to headquarters, and land directly at my vacation destination. I hope you won't disrupt this latest schedule, which I finished drawing up while doing sit-ups.” Time Attendant led Paper Hero into a huge cubic room measuring fifty meters on each side.

Malone stopped at the entrance. “I'll be in the observation room next door. You can speak to me directly over the intercom.” Then the electronic door closed.

Dark metal enclosed the room on all sides. The overhead lighting seemed capable of producing various colors, but for now it gave off an ordinary, soft white glow.

Paper Hero had never been here before, though he had heard that many HL branches had testing rooms like this, where ability users could fight each other. In emergencies, the rooms also offered protection against nuclear attacks, air raids, viral outbreaks, and other extraordinary threats.

“If you're testing my limits, I'll need a few things,” Paper Hero said.

“Everything is ready.” Time Attendant raised his voice. “Colonel Malone, please send in the paper we prepared.”

Malone's reply came over the intercom. “Watch your feet.”

At his words, the floor in the center of the room opened, and a full ten cubic meters of neatly stacked white office paper rose into view.

Paper Hero lowered his voice. “Are you sure this room can take it, buddy? If this branch gets damaged, Jim will go berserk like a drunk.”

“I can hear you, asshole!” Malone swore over the intercom.

Time Attendant said, “Stop wasting time, Officer Nice. Humans can make steel, but they can't punch through it. By the same logic, having made this metal, we are absolutely confident that no ability user below Fierce rank can damage this room. Otherwise, the ability-user criminals in Tidal Prison would all have escaped long ago.”

By now, the paper in front of Paper Hero had scattered of its own accord, risen into the air, and begun taking shape. “Then may I ask how you test a Fierce-rank ability user, assuming he consents?”

Time Attendant replied calmly, “That information cannot yet be disclosed to someone of your status. If you want to know, reach that rank and ask me again.”

Under Paper Hero's control, the sheets gradually gathered into a giant beast, its teeth fit to rend sinew and wrench bone, its claws to seize and slay, its spine like cast iron, its tail a steel whip, its eyes gleaming gold, the character for ‘king’ upon its brow. This creature, with all its leaping, bounding, lunging, pouncing, ferocity, savagery, cruelty, and violence, was... a paper tiger.

“You seem to have used a dragon the last time you fought that danger-level-four criminal. Which simulated creature is actually your ultimate move?” Time Attendant asked.

Paper Hero said, “The tiger holds the mountain; the dragon roams the sea.”

“Understood. You mean a tiger is better suited to our present surroundings.” Time Attendant kept both hands in his pockets, showing no intention of moving or readying himself. He simply said, “Then please attack quickly. I'm pressed for time.”

Before he had finished speaking, the paper tiger surged forward. Paper Hero merely said, “Try not to die.”

Time Attendant stood on his left foot and raised his right leg at a leisurely pace. The instant the giant tiger closed in for the kill, he snapped out a kick, bursting it into countless scraps of paper that scattered through the air.

Paper Hero's eyes widened. It was as though the moment Blood Owl had smashed his paper dragon was playing out again. He had never expected there to be more than one person in the world who could shatter his paper beasts through strength alone.

Time Attendant's expression suggested he found this nothing remarkable. Once he had settled back into place, he asked, “I've now experienced your top-of-the-food-chain feline. Did that charge represent your greatest destructive power?”

Paper Hero answered frankly, “Yes. That was my limit.”

Time Attendant walked slowly toward him. “Then please use that paper to form your strongest defense and take one punch from me.”

“All right.” Paper Hero gathered the paper under his control again, forming a pyramid-shaped shield that floated in front of him.

A dozen or so seconds later, Time Attendant asked, “Are you finished?”

Paper Hero said, “Go ahead.”

One punch, without a sound. Paper Hero could not even follow Time Attendant's movement. He felt only a blast of air erupt from the point of impact and sweep through the entire testing room like a gale. Two seconds later, cracks began appearing at the tip of the paper pyramid. It did not collapse completely, though most of it broke apart. The edges around its base still held together.

Time Attendant said, “Very good. Thank you for your cooperation, Officer Nice. I have one final question.” He was already walking toward the door as he spoke, unwilling to waste a single second. “Suppose the force of my punch was one hundred. What would you give Blood Owl's final blow against you?”

Paper Hero thought for a moment. Time Attendant had already left the room, and only just before the electronic door closed did Paper Hero answer, “At least five hundred.”

“Thank you. Goodbye.” Just as Time Attendant finished speaking, the door closed behind him.

Paper Hero let out a long breath. “Whew... What is it with these people...”

Then Malone's voice came over the intercom again. “Elot, an urgent message just came in. You need to hear this. Meet me in my office.”

...

Meanwhile, Time Attendant strode down an empty corridor. He took out his mobile phone and used speed dial. The call was answered after only three seconds. A voice said, “Hello, Deputy Director. What are your instructions?”

Time Attendant replied, “Tell the old man the indirect assessment of Blood Owl's combat capabilities is complete. I'll send him a written report later. As for Elot Nice, as expected, he's not worth entering in the files. Once I've submitted the report, I'll be resuming my vacation. Please don't contact me again.”