Chapter 38
A Dream
To Seong Geon-woo and Yong Yeo-hong, the words of the robotic monk Jeongbeop sounded orderly and logically sound — yet, the more they listened, the more confused they became.
Perhaps noticing the silent bewilderment of his audience, Jeongbeop paused for a moment before continuing.
“Moreover, our Buddha, the World-Honored One of Freedom, has another name.”
“What is it?” Yeo-hong asked.
The robot monk replied, his metallic face completely devoid of emotion.
“Zhuang Zhou.”
“Zhuang Zhou… the butterfly dream… when he dreamed he was a butterfly…” Geon-woo murmured to himself.
Jeongbeop nodded.
“The dream that Zhuang Zhou dreamed — that is the world we live in.
You, too, must dream. Thus you know that all things within dreams are illusions — every feeling, every encounter is but a false connection.
If one fails to truly awaken to this, one becomes trapped within, suffering endlessly from the pains of birth, aging, sickness, death, separation, resentment, and unfulfilled desire.”
Both Geon-woo and Yeo-hong, after some thought, found themselves strangely agreeing with the robot monk’s reasoning — assuming, of course, that the world really was just some divine being’s dream.
Then Jeongbeop changed the subject.
“Please wait a moment, benefactors. I have something I must do.”
The two watched blankly as the robotic monk, dressed in robes, opened a metallic panel on his abdomen and took out a plastic bottle.
Next, he loosened a screw on his collarbone area, revealing a small opening, and poured a thick, yellowish liquid into it.
Curious, Geon-woo spoke.
“That’s…?”
He hadn’t really expected an answer, but Jeongbeop replied calmly.
“Special lubricant.”
Their faces froze. The profound conversation they had just taken seriously now felt utterly absurd.
Oblivious, Jeongbeop closed his compartment and looked at them, his red eyes glowing faintly.
“How many springs and autumns have you seen?”
Neither of them understood the question. The textbooks of Pango Bio focused more on poetry and idioms than on archaic phrasing.
Seeing their confusion, Jeongbeop rephrased.
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-one,” they both answered.
Jeongbeop pulled his red robe over his knees and spoke solemnly.
“You are both young. Perhaps that is why my words do not yet move your hearts. But as thirty, forty, fifty years pass — as your bodies weaken, as illnesses and tragedies increase — you will come to realize that life itself is suffering.”
Geon-woo closed his mouth again, though he seemed to have something to say. After a moment, he replied seriously:
“But we’re genetically modified humans. Even fifty years from now, our bodies will still be strong.”
Jeongbeop seemed momentarily speechless, but recovered quickly.
“Even so, death cannot be escaped. Whether fifty years or a hundred, the essence remains the same.”
Yeo-hong looked as if she wanted to argue but, noticing the grenade launcher attached to the monk’s left arm, thought better of it.
“You’re right,” she said quickly.
Geon-woo also diverted his gaze from the weapon.
The red light in Jeongbeop’s eyes flickered.
“Tell me — in a dream, what do you think is real? Reflect on your own experiences.”
After a brief silence, both shook their heads.
“There is truth in dreams,” Jeongbeop said, his tone cold and emotionless.
“Only one thing is true — awareness of self. Even in dreams, everyone knows who they are.
Don’t you see? All things are emptiness, but consciousness is real. To awaken, one must seize one’s true consciousness and break free from the prison of flesh. Then, and only then, can one enter the Pure Land and attain eternal bliss.”
Geon-woo asked instinctively,
“So how do we seize our true consciousness?”
Jeongbeop pointed to himself.
“By uploading it into a robotic vessel. That way, one easily escapes the bondage of flesh.”
Yeo-hong frowned.
“But shouldn’t religion emphasize cultivating the self, not machines?”
“If there are three thousand proper paths, there are forty thousand byways,” Jeongbeop replied evenly.
“Though the roads differ, all lead to the Pure Land.
Our order has simply chosen one of the proper paths — the path of enlightenment through science and technology.”
The two said nothing, their thoughts tangled.
“By shedding your flesh and implanting your consciousness into a bionic chip,” Jeongbeop went on,
“you can witness the Pure Land — the same New World spoken of in Ashland.
Through this, one also attains understanding of the Dharma and certain miraculous powers.
It is by such grace from our merciful Buddha that I was granted the power to hear the voices of your hearts. Though my attainment is not yet high enough to hear the deepest whispers.”
Why is he even telling us his weaknesses? the two wondered silently.
Jeongbeop pressed his palms together and murmured a Buddha’s name.
“A follower of the Buddha does not lie.”
Geon-woo asked another question.
“What do you mean by ‘attainment’?”
“Uploading consciousness is not an end but a beginning,” Jeongbeop replied.
“Technology is not the essence but a tool — a means to better understand the Dharma.
Once freed from the shell of flesh, one sees the world differently, and thereby more deeply realizes the emptiness of all things.
That progression itself is the path. The stages along it are the levels of attainment.
When a practitioner reaches the rank of Great Arhat, only then can they transcend this world and enter the Pure Land.”
After finishing, Jeongbeop looked over the two humans.
“This may be too profound for now. Let us end here.
I sense you will wander throughout Ashland, experiencing many aspects of the world.
May you come to realize that life is suffering and the body is void.
When fate allows us to meet again, I shall guide you to the Glass Pure Land.”
The two were visibly relieved when he finally stopped talking. They quickly stood, bowed slightly, and stepped aside.
“If calling my Dharma name feels awkward, you may address me as Master,” Jeongbeop said, bowing.
Then, with a sweep of his robe, he turned and disappeared around the corner.
Geon-woo and Yeo-hong exchanged glances and hurried back through the rust-covered forest of steel.
At the main gate, Yeo-hong gauged their distance, then hastily pulled out her radio.
“Team Leader, we encountered a monk from the Order!”
Geon-woo didn’t stop her — he’d been planning to report as well.
“What? What was his Dharma name?” crackled Jang Mok-hwa’s voice over static.
Meanwhile, near a tall smokestack, Jeongbeop had come to a halt deep inside the ruined steel factory.
His red eyes glowed fiercely as his head turned stiffly. From his mouth came a voice colder than metal.
“A woman’s voice…”
At the factory gate, Yeo-hong answered through the radio.
“Jeongbeop! He said his name was Jeongbeop!”
There was two seconds of silence — only static.
Then Jang Mok-hwa’s urgent voice burst through.
“Withdraw immediately!”
The transmission cut off.
Neither Geon-woo nor Yeo-hong understood why their team leader reacted so strongly. She hadn’t even asked what had happened or whether the “karmic link” had been confirmed — she simply ordered an immediate retreat.
Still, they had no intention of disobeying. As members of the Security Division, strict compliance during field operations was a fundamental rule. Besides, they trusted their team leader’s judgment — and they both felt an instinctive dread toward the strange, sermonizing robot monk.
Without a word, they raised their assault rifles, crouched low, and sprinted out of the steel plant.
Thanks to genetic enhancement and years of training, maintaining a high speed was no trouble. Soon they emerged onto a cracked cement road and turned toward where their jeep was hidden.
The engine was already running.
Bang! Bang!
They jumped into the back seat and slammed the doors shut, gasping for breath.
“Floor it,” Mok-hwa ordered the driver, Baek Sae-byeok.
Then she turned to the two in the back.
“When you used the radio — how far were you from Jeongbeop?”
“Pretty far. We were at the main gate, and he was… probably behind the smokestack. We couldn’t see each other,” Yeo-hong panted.
She hadn’t actually seen him when they exited, only estimated based on time and direction — so it was just a guess.
Nothing more than a reference point.
