Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 316 Exchanging Correspondence (First Update)

Miss Greaves was still some time away from being discharged from the hospital. Before then, Salomon attempted to use artificial intelligence to uncover supernatural phenomena within secular society. This was new territory for the machine; previously, she could only predict premeditated crimes. Whether it was a terrorist attack or a criminal plan targeting ordinary people, it would leave traces online, and artificial intelligence used that information to make big data predictions.

However, supernatural attacks are unplanned, dark wizards don't transmit important information via the internet, and dark magical creatures don't hunt after meticulous planning. Therefore, most supernatural attacks, or magical disasters, are sudden events that machines cannot predict. Thus, artificial intelligence can only determine the occurrence of supernatural attacks by mining information from various demon and devil worship cults—this is far from accurate. Most are simply organizations created by teenagers with delusions of grandeur on Twitter and Facebook, engaging in no activity other than promiscuity and drug use. Their greatest harm is syphilis, AIDS, and osteoporosis, which hardly qualify as supernatural attacks.

Real devil cults wouldn't do these things. Although they communicate online, the coded messages are beyond the comprehension of artificial intelligence. She still needs to learn, and Salomon generously provided a wealth of information about this European cult—a stack of parchment twenty inches thick.

Is that all?

“No, these are an introduction and an appendix,” Salomon said. “I’m sorry, these are all paper documents. They were written before the information age. You’ll need to learn through a camera. I can give you two little fingers so you can turn the pages yourself.”

So the machine found another method: searching for people in secular society who fit certain characteristics. For example, in areas inhabited by werewolves, disappearances and murders occur during full moons; vampires, for instance, mostly lack identification and never appear in sunlight. Whether a vampire who doesn't appear in a mirror will actually appear on a camera is a very interesting question.

Artificial intelligence is screening certain groups of people based on a few characteristics, but Salomon believes this will be ineffective, as the machine might mistake a lazy, stay-at-home person for a nocturnal vampire. The scenario would be comical, and Salomon doesn't expect artificial intelligence to achieve anything significant in this area. However, since she's willing to allocate computing power to experiment, the arcane mage doesn't mind seeing the results.

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"If you ask me for my opinion on the matter of papal change, my friend, I can only tell you that you have asked the wrong person. It makes no difference to me whether it is Ratzinger or Bergoglio. I do not belittle their wisdom; frankly, I am quite willing to listen to the wisdom of the popes, and I am very interested in their views on faith, but this does not mean that I will completely turn to Catholicism."

I don't know how you view me, but in my opinion, stigmata cannot change a person's essence. Now I more or less understand the meaning of stigmata, but if you want to nail me to the cross and make me bear the sins of the world, that's undoubtedly a huge joke.

Salomon dipped his pen into the viscous ink, dripped the excess, and continued writing on the letter, head bowed. Since this was a correspondence with church members, Salomon deliberately used the Copperplate ES typeface, a strict and elegant script that exuded the feel of metal engraving. In the past, ordinary people would have needed to attend specialized schools to learn this script—he used it not out of respect but out of malice; he was wantonly mocking the recipient's level of education.

The pen scratched across the parchment as he wrote on the letter:

"But after thinking about it, I feel that what you care about is not my opinion on this matter. You seem to be asking me about my views on faith, on the different ideologies represented by the two popes. You want to know which one I support. This is not the first time. I can't understand why you care so much about my faith. I don't know if you have a special liking for pain, but the motive you use to ask me this seems like that of a masochist craving pain and waiting for a whip."

Perhaps you are actually a scintillator, Father Moru, but you just haven't realized your true nature yet.

I don't intend to provoke you, so I won't bring up the difference in the number of people killed between religion and politics; it's meaningless because that's a recurring issue since the dawn of human religion. I'm not specifically referring to your faith; all religions worldwide are the same—blood and soul are the best offerings to the gods, whether from believers or non-believers. Of course, you might say that's the most extreme example of the past, and that we live in civilized society where humans no longer commit such cruel acts against each other. In contrast, the victims of wars fought over resources are the majority.

But war will eventually end, but differences will not.

Blood sacrifices in the name of faith still occur in some places. War breeds ignorance, ignorance encourages folly, and the more folly a place is, the stronger its faith becomes. I know how you will refute this; you believe faith is a force for good, but the facts prove that humans will fight each other for differing opinions—I saw two fans of the same celebrity pulling each other's hair on the street just yesterday. So what about religious differences, which are like ulcers in the mind? What happens when those with different beliefs take up arms is something we have all witnessed.

I won't mention the ridiculous miracles told by shepherds, nuns, hysteriacs, or obese housewives, nor will I mention the appalling hygiene of the baths at St. Bernard Lourdes—I'm sure you know that, after all, that sticky liquid doesn't cure diseases, but rather is a breeding ground for all sorts of bacteria, and antibiotics there are best-selling medicines.

I prefer to explain miracles to you scientifically. Without supernatural intervention, it's perfectly normal for unsuspecting rural girls to perceive certain natural phenomena as miracles, and this has happened twice. The human brain is amazing; when many people say something is true, it becomes true, just as happened in Fatima in 1917.

A mass hysteria, a foolish revelry that only happened in Fatima.

I can only reiterate once again, I have no faith, not the kind you're looking for.

I admit that having no faith is a very painful thing, but I think it's a bit too terrible to believe in a holy book that has been written, translated, and distorted by countless people, and to practice the moral standards in that book. You might say that it's a parable and cannot be understood according to its literal meaning, and then things will get very interesting.

Should we interpret it literally or symbolically? Which interpretation best represents God's original intent? This question warrants a war. Don't be surprised; I believe you've studied history and know there are even more absurd reasons for starting a war.

Having no faith is extremely painful. I must learn to judge for myself; I cannot entrust good and evil to the Lord for judgment, because I am a human being. Compared to the pain of having no faith, I am even less willing to entrust my will to a book, to the will of someone else that has been altered and distorted, for judgment. I cannot tolerate such an absurd thing.

This isn't about your beliefs; I hold this attitude towards all religions—which leads to a question.

Moru, there are so many religions in this world, why is your religion being treated differently? Why are non-believers subjected to limb stretching and being burned at the stake?

Perhaps it is my stigmata that strengthened your faith? Or perhaps you believe that is my true nature? Moru, I want to know how you perceive me.

P.S.: I'm about to depart for the Outer Realms, so please take care of the messenger for now. As for when I'll return, you'll find out by watching the television.

The silver carrier pigeon gently pecked at its wings, which reflected the light. It eagerly hopped onto the newly rolled-up parchment, watching the melting red sealing wax drip onto the letter and the ring on its little finger imprint a six-pointed star on the wax.

It caught the letter, flapped its wings, and magic propelled it into the air, where it awaited its destination near its master's mouth.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the world, Father Moru also picked up his pen. He was waiting for a reply, but before that, he had another document to write, a will for his heirs.

He looked somewhat depressed and sickly. He coughed twice and put down his pen.

"I foresaw my death," he wrote, "but my death did not come as expected. It was faith that saved me from death, because I met the object of my faith, and I approached him without trying to offend him. Now we face the great enemy of hell. If my blood fails to awaken him, you must treat him as you would your God, and guide him, for he is the shepherd."

I finished writing this before bed. When you read this, I'll be writing the next one on my commute.

Can't we get some votes since this is such a rare opportunity?

(End of this chapter)