Ch.112Work Record 018 – Headhunting (1)

On Tuesday, Kei became a bit more honest, and Ms. Eve brightened up a little. It wasn’t too difficult to go on a low-altitude reconnaissance of the wasteland with Kei during the day, renting a drone.

Everyone was taking steps forward. I was letting things flow. I let what Mr. Günter gave me flow to Ms. Eve, and what I received from Belwether flow to Kei.

I hope that what flows and flows will eventually return to me. With that thought, I welcome Wednesday. Though it’s only been two days since I started receiving official work again, it’s already a holiday.

Today I had somewhere to go. I couldn’t just go with Ms. Eve without any plan, so I’d have to go alone. In the morning, after contacting Mr. Robin again, I put on my display helmet and left home.

The day is quite clear. Being December, there’s no heat haze, and the sunlight is moderate. In Los Angeles winter, outerwear is only needed in the mornings and evenings. I get on my bike and set my destination.

Next time, I should probably introduce Ms. Eve to Mr. Robin as well. But that’s for next time. I start the bike that charged all night and head toward the Panacea Meditech branch.

I pass by two unmanned drones fixing a malfunctioning sentry gun near the Changcheon Robotics Corporation building. The unmanned streets weren’t as lonely as one might think.

Drones capable of thinking like Chance would have created their own society by now. Like the cleaning androids I met before, if they have motivation, they’d be quite lively.

You don’t have to resemble humans to possess humanity. I think this as I pass by. I just pass by everything. That’s how I reach the Panacea Meditech building.

I arrive at the entrance of Panacea Meditech, marked by a statue of a woman extracting venom from a snake. I transfer control of my bike to Panacea Meditech and head to the visitor center.

This place reminded me of Francis. I couldn’t even begin to imagine how terrible he must have felt after waking up, having slept through Jaina’s entire terrorist attack.

Was it his fault? It was his fault. Not a capital offense, just a minor violation of rules. But saying all the consequences were his responsibility seemed too harsh.

While I was lost in these pointless thoughts looking around the visitor center, Mr. Robin soon entered. As always, his brown hair, revealing his forehead, flowed gracefully, and he wore goggles for checking the status of the cultivated children.

Belwether’s visitor center felt almost like a visiting room. It had several private rooms that needed to be reserved, but Panacea Meditech’s visitor center had a much more open atmosphere. That’s the difference in their business types.

There weren’t many people who personally visited Belwether employees, and when they did, it was often for personal matters. At Panacea Meditech, patients sometimes came to thank their representatives.

He noticed the small evil deed attached to my waist and whistled. He took off his large goggles that looked like safety glasses, stuffed them into his pocket, and smiled.

“Arti! What, security didn’t even take your gun? You didn’t smuggle it in, did you?”

“I’m a freelancer. There aren’t many of us anyway, and we’re all trusted by at least one major corporation, so they consider us reliable. They just told me to keep the safety on unless there’s an emergency.”

He approached my side and poked my ribs with his elbow. With a strange expression at the feeling—neither I moved nor did he bounce back—he said:

“Huh. I knew you changed bodies, but judging by the shock absorption… it’s either a Perun or the latest PostHuman model. Is it Perun Type 3 or PostHuman Type 4?”

The Perun series was made by Petrov Company. Though not as prominent as Belwether or Fitts & Morrison, it’s quite a large military contractor across the rotten Pacific. Some people used them occasionally.

“It’s PostHuman. It would be strange for someone who worked at Belwether not to use Belwether products. You know I worked at Belwether.”

“No, I just thought, this guy came from Belwether, but he probably isn’t that close with them anymore.”

“Who else would returned products be close with besides Belwether? I’m still on good terms with Belwether. There were some misunderstandings, some human errors… that’s all. I have no lingering attachments.”

Mr. Robin reached out and grabbed my cheek, stretching it slightly. It didn’t hurt. This body I’m wearing now has pretty good elasticity. He let out a small laugh.

“You’re too mature for your age. Belwether taught their kids wrong. At your age, it’s okay to be much more childish, Arti.”

“If it’s okay to be childish, then it’s also okay not to be, right?”

“That’s true, but. Sometimes you seem more adult than me, and that’s the problem. That damn efficiency. Oh, you’re still friendly with Belwether but no longer an employee, right?”

Mr. Robin looked at me with a rather mischievous, perhaps slightly wicked smile. It might have resembled my face when I tease Ms. Eve. Perhaps it’s something I received from Mr. Robin.

“Right?”

“Then, since you’ve retired anyway, why don’t you go to the highest-ranking person you know at Belwether and tell them to stop messing with people who have dysplasia? Now that you’ve retired, they’re all just mister so-and-so, not boss anymore.”

At that, laughter burst out uncontrollably. He probably meant for me to complain, but if I actually did that, it was obvious who would hear it.

Seeing me laugh, Mr. Robin folded his arms. He probably thought I was mocking him. That wasn’t the case at all, but it was understandable why he’d misinterpret.

“No, I’m not joking, really. There must be at least one person who would take a retired employee’s complaint seriously. Don’t you think?”

“No, it’s not that it’s funny… Anyway, you know that branch employees don’t have the authority to determine company policy.”

Of course, Mr. Günter did have that authority, but we weren’t close enough for me to contact him so casually. We could have been, but I refused and stayed here. Mr. Robin relaxed a bit.

“That’s true… But you know that even the higher-ups considered large-scale cooperation because of the miracle children case before it failed, Arti.”

The term “higher-ups” generally referred to headquarters—not the branch where we worked, but the heavenly headquarters that had turned the city’s name into the company name.

Panacea Meditech had seriously discussed cooperation with Belwether, which had maintained Panacea Meditech’s image and dignity by purchasing the returned children. Of course, it ended in failure.

Belwether couldn’t understand Panacea Meditech’s term “dysplasia,” and Panacea Meditech couldn’t understand Belwether’s term “mutant.” They couldn’t communicate.

Sensing that the conversation was heading toward deep diplomatic and inter-corporate politics, Mr. Robin shook his head dismissively. He pushed an invitation card into my field of vision.

“Talking about external politics only leads to fights. Here, a Christmas party invitation. You can basically bring one person… Is your company big? That company with the exotic name.”

“Night Watch? In total…”

Not eight people. Seven. Nadia shouldn’t exist. After consciously thinking about it, I replied without even a half-second pause.

“It’s a small company with only seven people. If everyone can come, I’ll ask them.”

Tina probably won’t be able to come. She was Nadia’s protector. Both when she lived as a racer and now as Night Watch’s driver. I suppressed the urge to talk about her.

“That’s fine if everyone comes. Remember Jamie? The one who went into HR at Belwether, then left and joined a company that headhunts mercenaries. They said it was okay to bring all five people from their company too.”

He showed me the company profile. It was quite successful for a small company. It was officially designated as a partner by Belwether’s HR team. They’re all about maximum efficiency too.

“You know I don’t remember everyone just because we went to the same school and were all returned kids. I only properly remember those who went to the security team with me.”

Returned children are fundamentally created to be the best employees. They receive education for that purpose, and once their heads grow, they do everything they can to become that. The results are generally successful.

They’re all functioning as individuals in this city. Seeing such friends is quite pleasant. It made me look forward to Christmas a bit.

“Really? The security team kids… honestly, I haven’t been in touch with them either. We were in good contact until a few weeks ago. You know?”

“You know?” was synonymous with “coup.” I nodded slightly. It was still a busy time for everyone.

“At least one kid who went into security office work contacted me. They’re still checking, but they said at least no one died, which is such a relief. My legs went weak when I heard that.”

He casually knocked his knee with his fist. It was just an exaggeration. Panacea Meditech was also a company that made artificial bodies, and he didn’t have any visible implants on the outside. I responded with a joke.

“Have you been wearing this body for too long?”

We were organisms moved by our brains, nerves, and selves. The body is just clothing. When it wears out, you just change it.

“Are you saying I’m old? I’ll cry, you know? And it’s only been about 4 years since I changed from my last body. It’s still relatively new.”

Panacea Meditech’s artificial bodies generally don’t get sick, don’t age, and heal quickly when injured. While other performances were average, their regenerative ability was on par with PostHuman Type 3.

Hearing that, I open the invitation to examine it. It showed a photo taken when we graduated from Belwether’s affiliated high school, along with the destination. It was an annex of the Belwether building. The content was trivial. That’s why I liked it.

Originally, security team aspirants and legal assassination team aspirants would hold simple shooting competitions, but now it was all uncertain. Belwether’s coup had left deep scars. At least it seemed they had reserved a shooting range.

After saving that invitation as an important file and briefly exchanging more trivial conversation, Mr. Robin tilted his head slightly to the side and connected his computational assist device communication. It was his habit.

“Ah, I wanted to talk more with our Arti… but I’ve got a call. Well, not exactly a call, but I think I need to go up. You know what I mean?”

It meant red information. Panacea Meditech’s red information was almost always personal information. Information about cultivated children or parental requirements… all things that should appropriately be classified as red.

“Of course I know. See you at Christmas.”

“See you at Christmas!”

It seemed like I could start the day in quite a good mood. I was craving Mr. Günter’s kebabs, and since it had been a while since I’d had a day off not entirely spent on training, I could afford a little luxury.

I didn’t have much money left in my account. I had put all my first month’s earnings into the house deposit, and then there was no work for nearly a week due to the Belwether coup. Still, money is something you can always earn more of.

Money is just a conversion of value. I was valuable enough for Mr. Günter to call me directly to Belwether headquarters. That statement was the most valuable thing I received from Mr. Günter.

I head to a restaurant with glass walls covered by holographic gardens that create a pseudo-outdoor seating area… and one that doesn’t use pseudo-ingredients. I decide to accept the hit to my account.

Saying they don’t use pseudo-ingredients doesn’t mean they use good ingredients. The salmon at this place was also farmed by Farmers Co., but at least it wasn’t made in a laboratory.

Real ingredients were a luxury. A luxury everyone could enjoy if they were willing to accept a small hit to their account. Perhaps because of that, this restaurant was full of customers with no empty seats.

Two people who came in late after all the seats were filled approach my table. Are they looking to share? No. Judging by their walking direction, they’re coming toward me. I place my hand on the control of my small evil deed.

One is in a formal suit, and the other is in casual clothes. They’re corporate people. The one in casual clothes with a deeply pulled hood had a face that wasn’t clearly visible, but the man in the suit had skin so pale it was almost white.

He gives off an unpleasant aura. Not so much anxiety or threat, but something murky. Only when he approaches me and hands me a business card from Heroism & Hope Entertainment do I understand why.

I knew they would come eventually, but I didn’t expect them to track me down to a restaurant I entered for lunch on my day off. With a sigh, I gestured to the opposite side of the table, indicating they should sit.

The two sit down, and the man in the suit lightly flicks his finger, causing the surrounding sounds to become muffled. It was a Fitts & Morrison silence zone generator.

He spoke with a somewhat mumbling tone. This is probably what a love call to a freelancer typically looks like.

“Since you didn’t respond to our paper mail, I’ve come… representing Heroism & Hope Entertainment. The reason we’ve been keeping an eye on Arthur Murphy is…”

He turned on a hologram projector and displayed several screens. One showed footage of me verbally subduing a terrorist from the Non-Human Liberation Front.

Another screen was playing audio released by Belwether of Night Watch dealing with Osgard Company, and the last was a scene of me taking down a heresy inquisitor. That should have been under a publication ban.

“These. Our Heroism & Hope Entertainment needs a mercenary like Arthur. Skilled eloquence, a sense of justice, and definite ability. Is there any reason you’re refusing the role of a stand-in?”

“Unfortunately, I have no interest in such entertainment or becoming a figurehead. It’s too big a job for a one-month experienced mercenary who lives day to day, isn’t it?”

At the word “figurehead,” the man glanced at the woman with the deeply pulled hood sitting next to him. The hood was removed, revealing the face I had seen in H-Enter’s videos.

She shook her head as if to indicate she wasn’t offended, then looked directly at me. The sensation of seeing someone from a screen right in front of you is something you can’t get used to.

“I’m Serena Vanderbilt of the DPD. And yes, I am a figurehead. It’s quite ridiculous to see someone called a commissioner running around the city in such an enhancement suit.”

DPD… that was a nationalist-style naming. I couldn’t understand what nationalists and the entertainment industry were doing together, but I decided to let it pass for now.

The second thing I noticed was the difference in speech. In the video, she had a quite refined voice, but in reality, she spoke with a stiff, angular voice. It’s all just production and setting. Probably.

“But, that’s how Detroit survived. The city will survive. We’re asking you to help with the city’s survival, not the entertainment industry.”

She seemed to understand well that it was strange for the security of an entire city to appear to be in the hands of one person. Yet she was still there.

I can’t know the reason. For now, there’s a bit more reason to continue the conversation. Leaning back in the restaurant chair, I asked:

“I understand it’s not as cheap a thrill as I thought, but as far as I know, treating penetrating wounds doesn’t take that long. And you seem to be doing well now.”

About a week or so. If she entered intensive care, she could return around Christmas, and even now she was walking on two feet. Hearing my words, she brought her hands to her face.

She grabbed deeply behind her jaw and separated the skin without hesitation. Beneath that artificial skin was an android skeleton. Despite having a scent and heartbeat that could pass as human, she wasn’t human.

And, as if providing additional explanation, a hologram window appeared. It was set to be visible only from a specific angle. Inside it… was the image of a hospital room where she was lying.

When the person in the screen moved her arm first, the android here moved its arm in feedback. It seemed they had sent a remotely operated android as a stand-in. They were using a double to hide her injury.

The hospital room interior was clean, with a cultivation chamber in the corner. In such a place, with intensive care, a penetrating wound could heal overnight. Just like it did for me.

The problem was… only the upper half of her body was lying in that hospital room. The condition of her body, with the amputation site barely sealed, was at best like a corpse barely kept alive in preservative fluid.

The woman in the screen spoke first, and the android opened its mouth a beat later to repeat her words:

“If it had really been just a penetrating wound, I would have already returned. But when you’re shot with an anti-enhancement suit round from an anti-materiel rifle, your body doesn’t get pierced—it gets shattered. This will take… about a month.”

A month to re-cultivate the lower body, connect it, and complete rehabilitation. I honestly didn’t know whether to be amazed that she could recover from such a state in just a month. They did need an additional performer.

This makes me think twice. Rubbing my forehead at the disruption of my plan to enjoy a peaceful lunch, I said:

“I’ll reconsider it. Since this would be red information for others, I’ll have to think about it alone… When do I need to decide by?”

“By Christmas, the cultivation should be complete, and Serena should at least be able to walk. Work starts from the 27th, so please decide by the 20th. We have quite a lot to prepare as well.”

I had about a week left to decide. And, terribly enough… I was beginning to think that it would be better for that city if I went than if I didn’t.

I couldn’t just send the detailed information file he sent to the trash. I would probably get involved, and it would likely be my first field assignment.