but I realized after a moment that it was entirely to be expected that Horiki should take this view of me; that from long ago, even as a child, I seemed to lack the qualifications of a human being; and that, for all I knew, contempt, even from Horiki, might be entirely merited. I said, feigning tranquillity, "Crime. What's the antonym of crime? This is a hard one." "The law, of course," Horiki answered flatly. I looked at his face again. Caught in the flashing red light of a neon sign on a nearby building, Horiki's face had the somber dignity of the relentless prosecutor. I felt shaken to the core. "Crime belongs in a different category." Imagine saying that the law was the antonym of crime! But perhaps everybody in "society" can go on living in self-satisfaction, thanks to just such simple concepts. They think that crime hatches where there are no policemen. "Well, in that case what would it be? God? That would suit you— there's something about you that smells a little of a Christian priest. I find it offensive." "Let's not dispose of the problem so lightly. Let's think about it a bit more together. Isn't it an interesting theme? I feel you can tell everything about a man just from his answer to this one question." "You can't be serious. The antonym of crime is virtue. A virtuous citizen. In short, someone like myself."
"Let's not joke. Virtue is the antonym of vice, not of crime." "Are vice and crime different?" "They are, I think. Virtue and vice are concepts invented by human beings, words for a morality which human beings arbitrarily devised." "What a nuisance. Well, I suppose it is God in that ease. God. God.
