Final Attack Orders
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Pico Wilson sat in the middle of his corpse pile.
피코 윌슨은 시체 더미 한복판에 앉아있었다.

The Sculptor was talking at The Painter; The Painter talking at The Composer; The Composer was talking at The Builder; The Builder was talking at The Sculptor. The Snipper sat atop his throne, saying nothing to anyone and not being spoken at, the only person in the room actually listening. All of them wanted attention but him.
'조각사'는 '화가'에게 말하고 있었고, '화가'는 '작곡가'에게 말하고 있었으며, '작곡가'는 '건축가'에게 말하고 있었으며, '건축가'는 '조각사'에게 말하고 있었다. '절단사'는 왕좌 꼭대기에 앉아, 그 누구와도 말을 주고 받지 않으며 이 방에서 유일하게 말을 듣고 있는 사람이었다. 그를 제외한 모두가 관심을 원하고 있었다.

“I’m telling you, we mock them through ear worms and jingles! They won’t be able to get it out of their heads, they aren’t free in their own minds!”
“내 말은, 후크송이랑 시엠송 가지고 조롱을 하자니까! 노래를 머릿속에서 없앨 수가 없으니, 자기 머릿속에서마저 자유롭지 못하게 되잖아!”

“No, we literally turn their art into adverts and billboards! The corporatisation of artistic expression kills its meaning!”
“아냐, 그들의 예술을 말 그대로 광고랑 광고판으로 바꿔야 해! 예술적 표현을 민영화시키면 의미를 죽여버리잖아!”

“We can literally grow a gallery around them, the ultimate display of power! Forcing them within the confines of the institution!”
“말 그대로 주변에다가 갤러리를 자라나게 할 수도 있겠어. 궁극적인 힘의 표현인 거야! 건물 안에다 가두자고!”

“Just sculpt our own artists to take their places, claiming themselves to be the original creators! The real ones won’t know what to do!”
“예술가들을 조각해서는 대체한 뒤, 조각상들이 원본이라고 하자! 원본들은 뭘 해야 할지 모를 거야!”

The Snipper played little attention to the squabbling. Surrounded by petulant children, he thought, snapping out some of his subjects’ ribs and stabbing them into the dead man’s legs. How the hell does The Critic even keep them in line?
'절단사'는 이 하찮은 말다툼에 거의 신경을 쓰지 않았다. 심통 사나운 애들한테 둘러쌓인 것 같구만. '절단사'는 시체의 갈비뼈 몇 개를 부러뜨려서는 시신의 다리에다가 꽂아넣으며 생각했다. 당췌 어떻게 '비평가'는 이 치들을 통제하는 건가?

The answer to that question kicked open the door. Immediately, all conversation was dropped, all disagreements put aside, and all heads turned to face The Janitor.
그 질문의 해답이 문을 걷어차며 들어왔다. 그 즉시 모든 대화가 멈추고, 모든 의견 충돌이 한편으로 밀려나며 모든 시선이 '관리인'을 향했다.

The Janitor towered tall, a long black trenchcoat stopping just short of its knees. It was definitely an ‘it’; the presence was not of a human but an immutable force of reality. Its face was entirely obscured by a gas mask; it wore a pitch fabric that hurt to look at. Where it moved, lights seemed to flicker and disappear, physical objects looked intangible and transient, the impossible was certain and certainties could not even be conceived. The Janitor walked into the room, wooden floor creaking to accommodate the immense pressure, and it glanced towards the corpse pile. The Snipper looked directly into the black eyeholes, and in that instant, his stomach turned, his throat tightened, his heart started beating faster and the hairs on his arms stood on end. For the first time in his life, The Snipper felt the sweet rush of love. Well, that or fear. He’d never felt either before, and from what he had heard, the two seemed very similar. He knew one caused attraction, and the other repulsion, and yet here he stood immobile and completely awestruck by the being in front of him. He blurted out the one thing he knew, from an artistic perspective, was objectively true.
'관리인'은 커다란 키에, 무릎까지 내려오는 큼지막한 검은색 트렌치코트를 입고 있었다. ‘그것’이라고 밖에는 부를 수 없을 것 같았다. 인간이 아니라 현실의 불변하는 힘의 현현처럼 보였다. 얼굴은 방독면에 완전히 덮혀있고, 보고 있기만 해도 아파오는 듯한 피치 천pitch fabric으로 된 옷을 입고 있었다. 움직일 때마다 빛이 깜빡이다가 사라졌고, 물리적인 물체는 무형이며 일시적인 것처럼 보이며, 불가능이 확실해지고 확실성은 알 수 없게 되었다. '관리인'은 방으로 걸어들어오자 그 엄청난 압력에 맞추어 나무 바닥에서 끼익거리는 소리가 났다. '관리인'은 시체 더미를 쳐다보았다. '절단사'는 그 검은 눈구멍을 정면으로 쳐다보았고, 그 즉시 속이 뒤틀리고, 목구멍은 좁혀지며, 심장은 더 빨리 뛰고 팔에 난 털은 곤두섰다. 살면서 처음으로 '절단사'는 사랑의 달콤함을 맛보았다. 뭐, 그게 아니면 공포일 것이다. 어쨌든 두 감정 모두 이제껏 느껴본 적이 없었으며, 들은 바로는 두 감정은 아주 비슷한 것 같았다. 하나는 끌어들이고 다른 하나는 밀어낸다는 것을 알고 있지만, '절단사'는 아직도 움직이지 않는 채 눈 앞의 존재에게서 경이로움을 느끼고 있었다. '절단사'는 무심코, 그의 예술가적인 관점에서 보았을 때 객관적으로 진실인 것을 입 밖으로 뱉었다.

“You are beautiful.”
“정말 아름다우시군요.”

He numbly offered The Janitor a cracked rib, grinning dumbly while shaking. The Janitor cocked its head to one side, as if confused, then took the rib and placed it inside an inner trenchcoat pocket. A heavily obscured, almost mechanical voice buzzed from the diaphragm of the gas mask, and yet the words were clear enough to be understood by all.
그는 멍하니 '관리인'에게 부러진 갈비뼈를 건네며, 떨면서도 말 없이 미소를 지었다. '관리인'은 혼란스러운 마냥 고개를 한 쪽으로 기울이더니, 갈비뼈를 받아서는 트렌치코트 안쪽의 주머니에 집어넣었다. 방독면 격판을 통해 흘러나온 목소리는 아주 불분명하여, 어찌 보면 기계음 같기도 하지만 여전히 무슨 말을 하는 지는 전부 알아들을 수 있었다.

“You know not what you have offered me. I may well craft Eve from this rib.”
“당신은 내게 무엇을 주었는지 알지 못합니다. 전 이걸로 이브를 만들어낼 수도 있습니다.”

The Snipper’s grin, somehow, widened even more.
그럼에도 불구하고 '절단사'는 이전보다도 더 크게 미소지었다.

“Then shall I consider you my Yahweh, my Jehovah, my lord and god?”
“그렇다면 당신을 내 야훼, 내 여호와, 내 주이자 신으로 여겨야 할까요?”

“I am not a god. I am simply a hand.”
“전 신이 아닙니다. 전 그저 손에 불과합니다.”

“The hand of a god, then!”
“그렇다면 신의 손이로군요!”

“I am my own hand. Nobody thinks themself a god.”
“저는 저만의 손입니다. 그 누구도 자신을 신으로 여기지는 않습니다.”

“Nobody does, indeed.”
“그 누구도요Nobody does. 그렇죠.”

The Painter and The Composer shared glances, The Builder actively stared at his feet, and The Sculptor felt somewhat ambivalent to the whole affair, breaking the conversation.
'화가'와 '작곡가'가 시선을 교환했고, '건축가'는 제 발만 내려다봤으며, '조각사'는 이 일 전체에 양면적인 감정을 느껴, 대화 중간에 껴들었다.

“Get a fucking room. We’re busy.”
“가서 호텔 방이라도 잡던가. 우린 바빠.”

The Janitor turned its head to face The Sculptor.
'관리인'은 고개를 돌려 '조각사'를 마주보았다.

“Apologies, Sculptor. To business, then. To the topic of Friday.”
“죄송합니다, 조각사 님. 일 얘기를 하겠습니다. 금요일에 관해서 말입니다.”

“Right. Well, you’re obviously here to sit in on the plans. I want you standing by as an ace in the hole in case things go south, you can probably keep track of everything from one of the nearby rooftops.”

“I was planning on doing so regardless. The Director had requested such before her accident.”

“Good. Now I think, perhaps, it would be interesting if we used a bit of a multi-pronged approach here. We’ve all got good ideas, we all think we’ve got the best ones… why not just go for all of them at once?”

The Painter interjected.

“We still need to organise ourselves, else we’ll be tripping over each other’s feet the whole time.”

“True. So, everyone – Janitor excluded, of course – put your plans down on paper, set a timetable, and we can work around it all. Here.”

The Sculptor passed pens and paper to everyone in the room. Everyone began to scribble down notes, The Janitor dutifully standing in silence. The Snipper finished writing, and started to fold his paper into a small origami flower. He began his conversation with The Janitor anew.
'조각사'는 방 안의 모두에게 펜과 종이를 나누어주었다. 모두 종이에 뭔갈 쓰기 시작했고, '관리인'은 예의 바르게 조용히 서 있었다. '절단사'는 다 쓴 뒤, 종이를 접어 작은 꽃을 만들었다. '절단사'는 다시 '관리인'과 대화하기 시작했다.

“So what do you look like under the mask?”
“그래서 그 방독면 아래 얼굴은 어떻게 생기셨나요?”

The Janitor turned. The Sculptor scowled, but continued his own writing.
'관리인'이 몸을 돌렸다. '조각사'는 쏘아보다가, 그냥 계속 글을 써내려갔다.

“Under the mask I am something else.”
“방독면 아래의 저는 다른 인물입니다.”

“Do you ever take it off? Like, if you get itchy or something?”
“벗기는 하나요? 뭐랄까, 간지럽다거나 그럴 때?”

“I remove the mask when I am not needed.”
“저를 필요로 하지 않을 때에 벗습니다.”

“And then what?”
“그러면?”

“And then I am not me.”
“그러면 저는 제가 아니게 됩니다.”

The Snipper scratched his head.
'절단사'는 머리를 긁었다.

“But you are you, though.”
“그렇지만 당신은 당신이잖아요.”

“The me that is this me is not the only me. This is the me that wears a mask. The face beneath this face, perhaps, considers itself a mask concealing me.”
“이 모습으로써의 저는 유일한 제가 아닙니다. 당장의 저는 방독면을 착용하는 저입니다. 이 얼굴 아래의 얼굴은, 아마도 자기 자신이 자신을 가리는 가면이라고 여길 겁니다.”

“Oh, so it’s like a split personality shindig. A bit cliché, but hell, who am I to judge, right?”
“아, 그러니까 인격 분리 파티 같은 거로군요. 조금 클리셰이긴 합니다만, 제가 판단할 처지는 아니죠, 안 그래요?”

The Janitor remained silent.
'관리인'은 침묵을 지켰다.

“So, you’re not planning anything for Friday then?”
“그래, 그러면 금요일에는 아무 것도 준비하지 않는 건가요?”

“My role differs. I am not an artist.”
“전 역할이 다릅니다. 저는 예술가가 아닙니다.”

“Everyone’s an artist.”
“누구나 예술가가 될 수 있어요.”

“I cannot create.”
“전 창작하지 못합니다.”

“Not all art is in the creation of things. Hell, look at me.”
“모든 예술에 창작이 필요한 건 아니지요. 저만 봐도 그렇고요.”

The Snipper removed a kidney from his subject, rubbing his finger along the rubbery flesh.
'절단사'는 시체에서 콩팥을 떼어내, 제 손가락을 고무같은 살갗에다가 문질렀다.

“I do not wish to be an artist.”
“전 예술가가 되고 싶지 않습니다.”

“Then you’re a critic?”
“그렇다면 비평가로군요?”

“I do not judge. I observe.”
“전 판단하지 않습니다. 전 관찰합니다.”

“That’s just silly. Observation is inherently judgemental. You choose to observe things worthy of your attention; your choice of what to watch is a judgement.”
“바보같은 소리에요. 관찰이라는 행위에는 판단이 내재되어있어요. 자기가 관심을 가질만한 것을 관찰하기 마련이죠. 관찰할 것을 고르는 것부터 판단이에요.”

The Janitor remained silent. The Sculptor placed his pen down on the table, a detailed itinerary of his exhibit completed.
'관리인'은 침묵을 지켰다. '조각사'는 펜을 책상 위에 내려놓았고, 전시회의 상세한 일정이 완성되어 있었다.

“Stop bugging The Janitor. If you’re done, hand over your paper.”
“'관리인' 좀 그만 괴롭혀. 다 끝났으면 종이 주고.”

The Snipper threw his completed paper flower over to The Sculptor, who began to unfold it with poorly veiled anger.
'절단사'는 다 쓴 종이를 '조각사'에게 던졌고, '조각사'는 화를 쉽사리 숨기지 못하며 종이를 펼치기 시작했다.

“So you clean up after us, yeah?”
“그래서 우리가 한 일의 뒷처리를 해주신다고요?”

“That is correct.”
“맞습니다.”

“No matter how much mess we make?”

“That is correct.”

“If I nuked the city, could you clean it up?”

The Painter interjected.

“Don’t nuke the city.”

“Don’t tell me what to do! Could you?”

The Janitor placed a gloved hand to its chin. It thought for a few seconds, The Snipper’s face grinning madly at confounding his new friend.

“Yes.”

“How?”

The Janitor remained silent.

“Oh come on, don’t be a cocktease. How would you do it?”

The Janitor turned to look at The Snipper. Pico’s body was overcome with the same primal shock that he felt when first seeing it, shivers running down his spine and losing feeling in his extremities.

“Alright, whatever. I guess I’ll just have to find out the hard way.”

The Painter yelled louder than before.

“DON’T NUKE THE CITY!”

“Sigh. Fucking spoilsport.”

The Sculptor completed unfolding the piece of paper.

“What the fuck is this?”

He held it up for all to see. The only words on the piece of paper were drawn in blood, spelling out ‘CORPSES FOR THE CORPSE THRONE’.

“I think I was direct and to the point with my itinerary.”

“You’re just going to be exhibiting piles of corpses?”

“Yes.”

“…you know what? I’m fine with that. It’s simple, it’s creepy, and some people will probably just run the fuck away. Straight and to the point. Good job, Snipper. Glad to have you onboard.”

“Snip snip snip.”

“No. Don’t try and make that a thing that you do. That’s not a thing. Everyone else done?”

The Builder and The Painter passed back their papers, The Composer having long ago written down his song list. The Sculptor appraised their plans.

“This is good. This is really good, actually… Bob, you’ll have to move your plan around so you’re not getting in Robbo’s way, your gallery’s going to start blocking the adverts if you have it coming up through the alleyways.”

The Builder offered a solution.

“I’ll have the gallery mimic the surrounding wall decorations, anything you’ve done can move through to inside. Actually, scratch that, I’ll just stick windows around everything you do.”

The Painter nodded in agreement.

“I’ll send you a map of the whole plan tomorrow morning, we can figure it out by the night.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

The Sculptor continued.

“Like I said, Snipper’s just running corpses, and Sam’s fine, since sound doesn’t really… oh, actually, the internal acoustics of Bob’s stuff might fuck with it. Something else you’ll have to figure out tomorrow morning, but it’s a tiny issue, you’ll be able to figure it out. I’ll be fine since my stuff’s mobile anyway. We’ve cut this close, gentlemen, but we know what we’re doing. We have our battle plans. After this, nobody’s going to forget why we’re the cool ones. I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

The Sculptor straightened his papers, placing them into a small folder, then walked out of the room, shortly followed by The Builder, Composer, and Painter. The Snipper snuggled into his corpse pile, The Janitor observing every movement. A voice came from deep within the pile.

“Why? Why do you clean up after them?”

The mask’s diaphragm buzzed.

“That is my role.”

“Who set that role?”

“The Critic.”

The Snipper lifted his head above the pile.

“How does he strongarm someone like you?”

“I have free will. I follow willingly.”

The Snipper frowned.

“Nobody who follows instructions is really free.”

The Janitor remained silent.

“Does he know who you really are, then?”

“I am who I am who I am.”

“Do you know who you really are?”

The Janitor remained silent. The Snipper cackled.

“You’re like a caged bird, except the cage is made of glass and you’re a rhinoceros. You don’t even realise you can break free, do you?”

“I am already free.”

“No. No you aren’t. You poor thing. You poor, pitiful little thing.”

The Janitor faced The Snipper, again shooting lightning down his arms and drying out his mouth. His face betrayed nothing of it.

“I am more free than you will ever understand. I am free from desire, free from emotion, free from everything. You may be free from others, but I am free from myself. I shall take my leave.”
“저는 당신이 이해하는 것 보다 더 자유롭습니다. 저는 욕망에서 자유롭게, 감정에서 자유로우며, 모든 것에서 자유롭습니다. 당신은 다른 것들로부터 자유롭겠지만, 저는 저 자신으로부터 자유롭습니다. 전 이만 가보겠습니다.”

The Janitor left the room with a single step, leaving The Snipper to lie in collected viscera. He sucked the blood from his thumb, spitting it out onto the floor. It was lying, it was deluded, The Janitor was not free.
'관리인'은 한 걸음에 방에서 나갔고, '절단사'는 내장 더미 위에 누운 채로 남았다. '절단사'는 엄지 손가락에 묻은 피를 빤 뒤, 바닥에다가 뱉었다. 거짓말을 하고 있고, 망상에 사로잡혀있으며, '관리인'은 자유롭지 않았다.

That would not do, Pico thought.
그러면 안되지, 피코는 생각했다.

He would have to free it.
그가 자유롭게 해주어야 할 것이다.

All face-up monsters on the field are changed to Attack Position and their battle positions cannot be changed.
필드의 앞면 표시 몬스터는 전부 공격 표시가 되고, 표시 형식은 변경할 수 없다.
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