August 17, 2014

  Yawn… hic. Kim Dae-hyun stumbled out of the bar, hiccupping. “…Ugh, what a mess. Why’s my life such a wreck lately?” He wandered into an alley, urinating against a wall while rubbing his bandaged, broken nose. “…Tch, all because of that jerk Hyung-jin, getting me chewed out by Dad… Life’s just peachy…” He staggered out of the alley. Thud! A car hit him, knocking him sideways. As he collapsed, two masked figures jumped out, gagged him, and hauled him into the car’s trunk. Bang! Bang! Despite being drunk and in pain, Kim Dae-hyun kicked the trunk door. It was futile.

  “…Ugh… morning already?” Jang Cheol-dae rubbed his eyes, waking up. Three days had passed since his surgery. He’d moved from the infirmary to a third-floor bedroom. Sleepy, he headed to the second-floor bathroom to brush his teeth. “Yawn… where’s everyone? At the infirmary?” Thinking of Gamamusa and Ko A-young, who’d been in and out of the infirmary, he entered without much thought. Creak… He froze, stumbling back in shock. “…What the—?!” Two masked figures were preparing to operate on someone on the surgical table. One removed their mask. “Sir, you shouldn’t be here.” It was Ko A-young.

  “…What’s with the getup?” Jang Cheol-dae, sweating, sat beside them. Instead of surgical masks, Gamamusa and Ko A-young wore balaclavas. “Nothing special. Just hiding our identities in case the patient wakes up,” Gamamusa said. Jang Cheol-dae stared at the patient, bewildered. “…This guy—you kidnapped him, didn’t you?” Seeing Kim Dae-hyun, who’d bullied his son and his friend, on the table felt surreal. “…How’d you even snatch this guy? I don’t get it.” Gamamusa stood. “…We knew exactly where he’d be. It’s all within my calculations.”

  Jang Cheol-dae frowned. “…What, you tracked his phone? That’s psychotic.” Gamamusa shrugged. Ko A-young returned to the table, silent. “…I’ve been wondering—will this even work?” Jang Cheol-dae asked. Gamamusa nodded. “…It has to. It worked on me.”

  …

  October 9, 2001

  Whirr… Gamagogi tested a surgical saw for cutting skulls. It ran smoothly. Gamamusa lay on the table, watching silently. “…Nervous?” Gamagogi asked. Gamamusa finally spoke. “…You’re worried now? If you were, you shouldn’t have started this.” Gamagogi thought, then shrugged. “…My skills’ll keep you alive. There’s a one-in-20-million chance you’ll die—higher than normal, but still…” Gamamusa nodded weakly at the grim remark. A question struck him. “…What kind of surgery is this?”

  Gamagogi paused, adjusting equipment, and turned. “…How to explain? It’s a unique experiment—the first of its kind on humans.” Gamamusa grew skeptical. “…I heard it’s based on Olds and Milner’s pleasure center experiments. Is it really that dangerous?” Gamagogi nodded. “…It’s far riskier. Only high-risk sociopaths can handle it.” Puzzled, Gamamusa watched as Gamagogi sat beside him.

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  “…Do you know why humans wage war?” Gamamusa shook his head. The question seemed out of nowhere. Gamagogi leaned in. “…Humans fight for glory. It’s abstract but simple at its core.” He held out his palm. “In 1990, British anthropologist Robin Dunbar introduced ‘Dunbar’s Number’—the number of stable social relationships a person can maintain, about 150. It’s like having 150 people you’d share a drink with if you met them at a bar.”

  He closed his palm. “Dunbar’s Number is like a closed society. If a village’s police and residents collude to shun outsiders, they’re within that number.” He opened his palm. “An open society exceeds Dunbar’s Number, lacking mutual trust, requiring binding laws.” He pressed his palms together. “When human groups exceed Dunbar’s Number, they don’t know each other. This causes problems—humans fight for resources.” Gamamusa tilted his head. “…Resources? Like land or food?”

  Gamagogi shook his head. “…The idea that humans fight for survival resources comes from evolutionary theory, assuming we exist to survive. No, humans need a more vital resource: glory.” Gamamusa frowned, confused. Gamagogi continued. “…It might sound absurd. If a god created humans, why? To be loved by God and love each other. And to love, you need glory.”

  Gamamusa clapped his hands together. “…Every human group seeks glory within itself. If I’m Japanese, I’d get help from Japanese abroad. To gain glory from the ‘Japanese’ group, I’d brand myself as such. If I’m Korean, I’d face Japanese scorn, as the ‘Korean’ brand might steal ‘glory’ from the ‘Japanese’ one, or vice versa. During Japan’s occupation, Koreans praising Japan let Japan take Korea’s glory. But without an external enemy like ‘Koreans,’ the ‘Japanese’ group would fracture and fight internally. Humans aim to maximize glory from others.”

  Gamamusa scowled. “…I still don’t get it. What’s this got to do with the surgery?” Gamagogi pulled a chip from the table and showed it to him. “…This is called the ‘God Brain’ chip. It accesses and organizes data in the human brain, which stores 2,500 terabytes but can’t retrieve it efficiently. This chip can pull and play all that data simultaneously and store external information in your memory.” Gamamusa hesitated, then set it down. “…It can expand your Dunbar’s Number to a trillion. You’d know their lives, personalities, and love them—elevating a human to a god-like state of omniscience.”

  Gamamusa nodded calmly at the shocking claim. “…Why use high-risk sociopaths? Isn’t this just about knowing everyone?” Gamagogi shook his head. “…You don’t get it. If a serial killer, rapist, or dictator like Hitler wanted to befriend you, what would you say?” Gamamusa shrugged casually. “…So what? They haven’t hurt me.” Gamagogi tilted his head. “…If they killed or raped you? Or planned to?” Gamamusa shrugged again. “…I’d find a way to stop them.”

  Gamagogi nodded. “…Normal people react differently. Instead of solving problems, they ignore or belittle ‘evil’ enemies—useless loser thinking. I tested ordinary people, showing them the lives of terrorists, rapists, murderers, and enemy soldiers from childhood to adulthood.”

  Gamamusa shook his head. “…Normal people couldn’t grasp that ‘monsters’ could have such ordinary lives. Overwhelmed by stress, they refused to understand their enemies. Even boosting endorphins or dopamine to reduce stress and motivate problem-solving didn’t work.” Gamagogi held out the chip. “…I concluded that to end all war and conflict, those who can’t ‘understand’ humans must wield divine power. This chip is the first step toward ‘world peace.’”

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