Ch.110017 Work Record – New Recruitment Period (9)

It’s 8 o’clock. Time to go to work. It’s been a really long time. The daily routine at the company always begins with a review of previous assignments.

The review of the operation to clear out the workshop created using Farmers Corporation’s laboratory in the wasteland ended without much difficulty. The only point worth noting was that more Vegas mercenaries should have accompanied me when I went down to the lower levels.

Certainly, infiltrating as a pair made for a stealthy approach, and since we were dealing with wasteland gangs, we could subdue them without much trouble. But if that hadn’t been the case, two people might have been insufficient.

In a direct confrontation, numbers definitely matter. Whether you’re a Type IV or whatever, concentrated fire will kill you just like any human. Enhanced bodies only draw out our abilities; they don’t transform us into different beings.

The discussion about how personnel should have been deployed if reinforcements had been sent went on a bit longer, and we even had to run a virtual reality simulation. Enzo’s opinion yielded the best results.

Considering the VIP section’s structure with its many narrow corridors, and the critical role Vola played in the frontal infiltration team, it would have been best to assign three more Vegas mercenaries to me.

By the time we finished the review, it was already approaching 11 o’clock. Kay quickly turned on the hologram projector and prepared to refresh the task list. I tensed my body in anticipation of picking up work after such a long time.

Good things tend to disappear in an instant. The usual task list contained about 200 items, but today there were slightly fewer. It seemed everyone was still being cautious.

Scanning down the list with my peripheral vision, I spotted a request marked urgent. It was to escort an employee from Bellwether Company’s Human Resources Department. The destination was the Retired Employee Building.

Despite being called the Retired Employee Building, it was located outside the Bellwether headquarters. It was actually a welfare accommodation provided to security team employees who had participated in corporate wars.

It was quite a nice place. The units were much more spacious than those in regular employee buildings, with excellent facilities… and guaranteed family safety, which made it unbeatable in LA.

The dangerous part was the people inside. Corporate wars were violence without limits. They were the last resort when all other means had failed. These were people who had experienced that.

If the entertainment industry was involved, there would have been horrific massacres, and pharmaceutical companies frequently evacuated employee-citizens and unleashed biochemical weapons on invading forces. Barbaric affairs.

Nevertheless, older people would occasionally mutter, “Still better than that war.” The purpose of corporate wars was to enforce one’s will—to force favorable terms in negotiations.

That war… I’m not sure. Why they waged such a war. Perhaps even the people of that era have forgotten. When too many people die, it becomes impossible to make sense of anything. Especially when it was 9 billion.

I suppose it means that violence with reason has a foreseeable end, but violence without reason does not. That was my conclusion. I pushed that assignment toward the boss.

Even the most justified violence leaves aftereffects. Most corporate war veterans suffered from aftereffects, and if HR was requesting an escort, the situation must be bad.

It would be good to have someone with a Type IV enhanced body who could skillfully subdue people if necessary. Having me there would be better than not.

The Night Watch logo was stamped on the assignment. The data downloaded, and President Yoon displayed a photo of six high-rise apartment buildings on a large hologram screen. The Retired Employee Building.

“Today’s assignment is VIP protection. An HR employee from the LA branch needs to visit a corporate war veteran they haven’t been able to see due to the coup and lockdown, and you know what security is like around the Retired Employee Building.”

Even gangs don’t set foot near the Retired Employee Building. Those who chose memory erasure suffered from inexplicable fits of madness, while those who chose to bear their memories continued to suffer from the war still raging in their minds.

That alone would be manageable, but these people were also corporate war veterans. Their combat experience was beyond what could be handled by simply deploying security personnel. I learned about this in school.

Once, a corporate war veteran mistook smoggy weather as the outbreak of a corporate war between Bellwether and a pharmaceutical conglomerate, killing six security personnel at the Retired Employee Building before being subdued.

Since then, no security team has been stationed at the Retired Employee Building. And that employee who participated in the corporate war was sentenced to euthanasia rather than neural prison by the disciplinary committee. He wasn’t even blacklisted.

It was an unsolvable issue. Bellwether’s only solution was to expand their sales department and strengthen cooperation with partners to reduce the likelihood of corporate wars in the first place.

“Let’s be thoroughly prepared before going in. The protection duty lasts until the HR employee meets with the retired employee and returns to Bellwether. And… remember, it’s not their fault. Understood?”

The fault lies with Bellwether. It was Bellwether’s responsibility to use every negotiation tool to prevent corporate wars, and when that responsibility wasn’t fulfilled, corporate war veterans were born.

Bellwether never discouraged anyone from blaming them for matters related to corporate wars. They simply endured it stoically. Someone needs to absorb even the inevitable resentment.

Today’s briefing was short. It must have been a heavy matter even for President Yoon, who was still a Bellwether retiree, and since we couldn’t predict what might happen, we had to rely on improvisation.

Consider all situations and respond accordingly. I recalled what Talos, Mr. James, had said and nodded. Since the assignment conditions included wearing casual clothes, I didn’t put on combat gear.

All I could do for preparation was wear underwear woven with bulletproof fibers. It could only stop handgun bullets, but combined with a Type IV body, it provided decent ballistic protection.

I also packed firearms in a case, and while I usually kept Small Evil at my waist, today I tucked it inside my jacket out of sight. Everyone was in casual clothes but had definitely brought their equipment.

President Yoon still wore her porcelain-like milky white prosthetic hand. We looked like we were heading out for a company dinner, but our destination was Pasadena, where Bellwether headquarters was located.

Since it wasn’t too late, the city was still bustling with activity. In this city, lack of stimulation was considered sinful, and if it developed into boredom or tedium, it was practically criminal.

A massive billboard was beaming down an advertisement from Nature & Nature Entertainment: “Experience nature and tourist attractions from before that war.” Alongside it was another ad asking people to sell their memories of traveling before that war.

On the left side of the screen showing virtual reality was an island with pristine white walls and buildings with blue roofs, while the right side showing reality displayed only a rough sea. It was the same place.

Glancing at this scene, we arrived at Bellwether headquarters. After parking in the designated spot, an employee in a neat suit approached us, tapping President Yoon’s shoulder with a prosthetic hand.

Her hand was clearly prosthetic but covered with artificial skin to look like a human hand, and parts of her eyes and face were also high-end implants designed to be unnoticeable.

Just as security team employees were required to have inconspicuous eye and hair colors, the human resources team must be required to keep their implants concealed. She shook hands with President Yoon.

“You’ve followed all our requirements perfectly. I’m Lucille Sheridan from Personnel Department 8 of the Los Angeles branch Human Resources team. I’m sorry for making you work night hours!”

Despite the strict regulations, she was pleasant to look at as a member of the human resources team. Bright, energetic, at least as long as that attitude was part of her paid duties.

“Not at all. Official partner companies like ours are primarily engaged in nighttime security activities. But isn’t it rather late to visit a retired employee?”

“It is late. I’m working overtime too. We generally try to accommodate requests from corporate war veterans, and this former security team member asked if I could visit at night.”

I could somewhat understand why. Though I no longer felt that tickling sensation in my throat, there were times when the softness and comfort of a plush bed at night would become terrifyingly unsettling, and I’d end up sleeping on a hard bed at dawn.

President Yoon’s silence was noticeably long. She just sighed once, then opened the van’s passenger compartment door and said:

“I see. Let’s go. Arthur, stay beside Ms. Lucille, and Vola, wait at a distance. Full-body prosthetics can be intimidating, after all.”

With these simple instructions, the vehicle departed. It wouldn’t take long to reach our destination. The Retired Employee Building was the farthest among the nearby buildings, yet the closest among the distant ones.

As the car started moving, Lucille lightly tapped the compartment wall as if checking its soundproofing, then spoke. The car was slowly making its way to the Retired Employee Building.

“Higher-ups said there was no need to mention this, but this person participated in quite a horrific corporate war. Just last week, they confronted a passerby, demanding to know if they were a T-Enter legal staff member…”

She chose her words carefully about three times for each sentence. She seemed to be selecting words that would prevent this person from appearing monstrous. What was likely a threat at gunpoint, she described as “confrontation.”

A hero and a scapegoat simultaneously. And also a risk. Sometimes all three descriptions were true, as they were now. Fixating on just one would make it impossible to see the person before you.

Still, the unstable condition remained unchanged. No company, capable or foolish, would send legal staff to the Retired Employee Building, so it must have been a simple delusion.

President Yoon smiled slightly at the corners of her mouth as she listened to her words. Respect makes people smile.

“You can worry less. Night Watch has two people who are good with words, and one of them is not only good with words but also skilled physically. Problems won’t arise, and even if they do, they won’t escalate.”

Lucille smiled at those words. Shortly after, the car reached the Retired Employee Building’s parking lot… Kay and Tina remained in the car while the six of us took the elevator to Lucille’s destination. It was the 27th floor.

No one said a word. The tension only grew as Lucille lightly pressed the doorbell of the residence. Bellwether employee buildings were known for their excellent soundproofing. The interior seemed quiet.

Then, the door opened. A rather ordinary-looking man leaned out from inside. His dark circles were pronounced, but he still made an effort to smile as he greeted Lucille.

“Ah, my case manager. And these people with you… Oh, I did ask you to come at night. I wanted to see some security team juniors, but these must be partner company people. I’m Frank McBee, formerly of the New York branch Special Operations Division.”

Full-body prosthetics are for work. When returning to life as a human, it was common to receive a body made of flesh again. That’s probably why he appeared to have no implants.

Something was strange. But what? I examined Lucille’s expression. Her face showed confusion that was trying to subside. She seemed unsure about who the person in front of her was.

Since he extended his hand to me, standing right next to Lucille, I grasped it and shook it lightly. I introduced myself briefly.

“Arthur Murphy, general employee of Night Watch mercenary company. We’re not part of the HR department, so…”

“No, no. Please come in. We all know that gangs and criminal organizations don’t come into this neighborhood. I can’t leave you standing in the hallway when you’ve come all this way for work.”

The strange thing was… his ordinariness and kindness. Lucille’s expression grew more puzzled. Why was this strange? Because this was someone who had been threatening passersby just last week.

Is such a sudden improvement possible? My own fear of softness quickly improved after Günter and I impaled Walter’s head with a harpoon. It’s possible. What’s needed is a catalyst.

“You seem much… better than last time, Frank. Right?”

At Lucille’s words, the former special ops member bowed deeply in apology. He explained what had happened.

“Ah, I’m truly sorry about that. I forgot our appointment, and when someone in a suit rang the doorbell, the surroundings… overlapped in my mind.”

He must have at least restrained them. The fact that he didn’t kill them suggests either good control of his strength or that he was too disoriented to subdue them efficiently. Can this improve so quickly too? It’s hard to say. He continued:

“Still, things have improved since last week. I was arrested for the special intimidation incident with the passerby, and when I returned, I found this email.”

His connection assistant transmitted a website address to us. I heard Kay’s voice in my head.

“Umm… it’s safe! Why is it safe? Usually in situations like this, there’d be people trying to take over your computing assistant just by clicking on a site address. It’s a genuine counseling site for veterans.”

With that assurance, I opened the address in my field of vision. It was a webpage with a greenish color scheme. The site name was… Foresight. Does it offer prophecies? As long as there were no issues with the site, that was fine.

“At first I thought they might be scammers, but I figured if they were frauds trying to exploit others’ stories, I’d give them an earful of complaints. Their responses seemed quite sincere.”

His rationality seemed to be functioning normally. He spoke with a rather warm smile.

“I’m too old to be a counselor, but I can tell you one thing for certain: Don’t lose hope. Dwelling only on reflecting on the past when you have the power to cultivate the future is regression, isn’t it?”

The word “regression” was strange. What kind of counselor would tell someone not to reflect on the past? Seeing all of us with questioning expressions, he burst into laughter.

“I know. I know. The word ‘regression’ is quite odd. It’s just a strong word they used seeing how much I was wandering. After talking for a while, they were clearly good people. You could feel their love for humanity.”

Is he really okay? While I was wondering about this, suddenly in my field of vision, the Foresight company’s homepage… no, that’s not it. A site with a 51-star American flag appeared.

The design format was identical to the counseling site called Foresight I had just seen, with only the text changed. Chance spoke in my mind.

“This is the appearance of a government-operated counseling site after that war. Assessment: Considering his self-description as quite old, it was likely created by someone who experienced that war. However.”

‘However?’

“If that’s the case, the use of the word ‘regression’ becomes even more strange. A human who experienced that war would never call dwelling on that war ‘regression.'”

I decided to make a note of it. Fortunately, what awaited us in today’s assignment wasn’t a series of gunfights and tragedies, but a glass of fresh orange juice made without synthetic food substitutes.