"Calm down, Emma." Professor X transmitted the whole sequence of events to her via brainwaves. But that still did nothing to persuade the White Queen.
"Then why bother with those consciousnesses at all?" the White Queen said in bewilderment. "Just let them die there, and then revive them, isn't that fine? The ones who come back are still them anyway!"
The White Queen truly couldn't make sense of it. She said, "Didn't you say the revived ones are exactly the same as before? Then just revive them! Why not?!"
Magneto was beginning to understand what it meant when people said, "Those whose paths differ cannot make plans together." Was the White Queen's thinking wrong? Not exactly. It really was the way to maximize benefit, and in the end there would be no sacrifice at all; the members of the strike team would all be revived, and they wouldn't remember their own deaths. As things stood, this seemed like the best way to respond to the situation.
And yet, Magneto and Professor X both did not want to do it. But they couldn't come up with any reasonable justification either. To keep sacrificing the Mutants' living strength in order to save some consciousnesses that could be replaced was an absurd decision, utterly unlike the wise choice a leader of a people ought to make.
But they still wanted to save them. No matter what, they wanted to save them.
"I'll go myself," Magneto said. "If Lorna is willing to go, I'll take her with me."
The White Queen looked at him as though at a Madman. "Not only are you going to your death, you want to take your daughter with you?! Are you insane?!"
"No matter what, I cannot agree," the White Queen said. "I am one of Clarkia's founders as well, and I say I do not agree. If you insist on doing this, I will do everything in my power to stop you. Don't force me to lay a hand on you, Erik!"
"You won't be able to stop me." Magneto turned and looked into the White Queen's eyes and asked, "Emma, answer me: what kind of Mutant nation do you want to build?"
Magneto had never asked any Mutant this question before. Only in this moment did he realize how important the question really was.
The White Queen was slightly taken aback, and answered on reflex, "Of course a nation strong enough. Prosperous and flourishing, not inferior to any country on Earth."
"What is the meaning of a nation's strength?" Magneto asked again.
"Of course it's to protect Mutants," the White Queen said. "Those people have oppressed us for too long. We cannot count on them to spare us; we can only protect ourselves."
"Yes. We build a strong nation in order to protect all Mutants. Then what about the consciousnesses of the strike team members?"
"But…" The White Queen opened her mouth and said, "I just think it's unnecessary. Because they won't actually die; we can use the Clarkian Totem to revive them. So why waste Strength to save them?"
"I'm sorry, Emma. The nation we want may not be the same." A rare trace of sorrow slipped into Magneto's tone. In his long and turbulent life, this did not happen often; it felt like being forced to part ways with an old friend.
"There will be many people who agree with you." Magneto's voice turned a little hoarse. Then he turned to look at Professor X, took off his helmet with one hand, and said, "Announce my decision to all Mutants. I want to tell them myself."
Morning on Clarkia Island was still as peaceful and gentle as ever. Mutants who had just gotten up went out in twos and threes, walked along the tree‑lined paths into the valley, then rode stone platforms to the dining bar to eat, sitting before bright crystal stained‑glass windows and chatting about yesterday's amusing incidents.
The shadow of the strike team's total annihilation seemed to have lifted. Establishing a nature reserve, though not in line with their original intent, would not draw much further opposition either. The storm seemed to have subsided, and they had gained the beautiful home they had wanted.
But soon, Magneto's voice once again resounded in the mind of every Mutant on Clarkia Island.
"My friends, we have just received good news. The consciousnesses of the strike team, once wiped out to the last man, have been uploaded into the System of the Red Orchid Factory. That is to say, the heroes are still alive. They are striving to shake off the pursuit of the Mother Module's security System, and we must go save them."
The Mutants began converging toward the Central Royal Court, until they gathered on the plaza before it. Magneto was standing on the platform above; within his steady voice there was a faint, almost imperceptible tremor.
"This is a very difficult decision. Because people will definitely be hurt and suffer Death for it, and Mutants can no longer bear more sacrifice. But we still must go, because this concerns the most important question of all—what kind of Mutant nation are we going to build?"
"My compatriots, I hope you will think about this question seriously and with care. On what foundation are we to build our nation, what kind of country are we to establish, what kind of home are we to let ourselves and our descendants live in? Everything about all of this is what we have paid so much effort for, the one thing we now have a chance to decide. I do not want us to make a mistake on this one crucial point."
"So I must tell you that we have another option. We can use the bodies constructed by Clarkia's Totem and the consciousness Professor X preserved to remake the Mutants; that will require no sacrifice at all, and they will come back just the same. But the Professor and I have decided to go save them. Because building a home that can truly shelter all Mutants is the wish of our entire lives. We will not abandon a single Mutant—that is the Mutant nation we want."
"I know many of you will not agree with my decision, so now I have told you everything. If what you want is different, you may choose to leave; I will not hold anyone to account."
Magneto gazed at the pairs and pairs of eyes in the plaza below. There was hope there, and disappointment, and bafflement, and righteous indignation. But he could no longer hear the shouts of support or the curses; only in the instant he spoke these words did he at last understand what it was he truly wanted.
Why was it that the suffering he had fought with all his might to overcome could not bring a complete end to other Mutants' suffering? Why was it that all the failures he had repeated so many times could not be exchanged for a sufficiently happy ending? Why was it that the Mutant nation he had spent his whole life to build could not be an ideal state? All his pent‑up resentment, all his countless refusals to accept, fused into a single question—why can't Mutants have a true Utopia?
He did not believe it. He still wanted to try. He had to try once more, still as if it were the last time. Idealists are always trapped between expectation and the passage of time. And Magneto looked at Professor X, who had stood at his side all along, and at those Mutants who had chosen not to leave.
He recalled the decades he had trudged on alone, only occasionally brushing past them in fleeting moments—brief and vanishing in an instant, yet what he remembered was only the surging trust and love coming toward him. Those pains and grievances, it seemed, were gradually dissolving into the morning light of Clarkia.