Brack truly felt nothing for Abraham; if he did feel anything, it was only the affection a master had for a sheepdog.
The only reason he had not discarded him like a chamber pot was habit.
Who knew whether he might come in handy someday?
Even a chamber pot had value, and all it took was finding somewhere to store it, at virtually no cost.
On the other hand, if a chamber pot wanted to become a wineglass, he would have destroyed it long ago.
Thus, the two were not on the same level at all, so their views were inevitably at odds.
But that did not affect the outcome. At Brack's command, Abraham gathered a group of old companions and hurried aboard an airship.
To be honest, the outside world had changed too quickly—so quickly that even Black Overseers like them found it hard to adapt.
Fortunately, Brack was not asking them to operate any high-tech products. He merely wanted them to serve as managers.
By the time they reached Utopia, Brack was already waiting for them.
Only after arriving did he learn what his job entailed.
Though he did not know where these raw materials would ultimately go, it did not affect his work.
"Mr. Brack!!"
Abraham humbly dropped to his knees in salute, expressing his gratitude.
"Get up." Brack said courteously, then briefly explained the task. "Utopia is divided into three levels: an illusory place close to God, a carefree land of pleasure, and a lower land of suffering, all intended to cultivate the most devout believers.
But the current efficiency is low. Few can advance to the second level, while too many who reach the second level fall into depravity. Do you have any ideas?"
Abraham felt nothing about this sort of breeding-like practice. Such was