Ch.114Work Record 018 – Headhunting (3)

After sending the contract, it didn’t take long for the signed document to return from Heroism & Hope. Now it was official.

From the 20th onward, I’d be busy meeting with Heroism & Hope Entertainment people, with perhaps a day of personal time around Christmas before heading to Detroit.

I received a virtual reality training program enclosed with the contract. It was E Entertainment Company’s close combat training program for actors. The company had gone bankrupt over ten years ago during the corporate wars.

The entertainment industry had always been like this. Building new structures from the ruins of old ones, only for those new buildings to become ruins themselves in an endless cycle. I didn’t bother thinking about what the acronym stood for.

I entered the office’s virtual reality training room and connected to the program. Though it was an outdated program with slightly reduced realism, I could clearly understand why they’d sent it.

It was a program teaching how to use not just daggers but sword-sized high-frequency blades and everyday objects as weapons—something you couldn’t find in the Hive.

E Entertainment’s broadcasts must have been similar to H Entertainment’s. High-frequency blades were too small to grip with reinforced suit hands, so at least their protagonist probably wasn’t wearing a reinforced suit.

Did they go bankrupt over copyright disputes? Must have been a bloodbath. I gripped the sword, feeling a different weight than the high-frequency tactical dagger, and swung it lightly following the trajectory displayed in my vision.

It would probably just be a secondary weapon, so I didn’t need to focus too much on it, but I decided to do it properly anyway. This was something I couldn’t experience outside of H Entertainment, and all experiences eventually prove useful.

People aren’t easy to cut. Especially those with spinal replacements. Only Shepherds or Market Keepers could easily cut through panic room doors or sever limbs.

Still, these weapons excelled at neutralizing bulletproof equipment. Ceramic plates would be cleanly cut rather than shattered, and with enough force, even metal plates could be sliced through.

Actually, scratch that about metal plates. After forcing my way halfway through one in this virtual reality, a warning sound indicated the blade was damaged.

What mattered wasn’t the training program itself but the sensations E Entertainment had programmed into it. The important thing was that they had collected all the memories and sensations of their employees cutting through people.

Here I could learn things you’d never know until you actually cut someone. I switched weapons, trying everything from hydraulic gauntlets that extended to the arm and shoulder.

Every one of these weapons was less practical than a single gun. That’s why they were only used in the entertainment industry. That’s why the entertainment industry’s legal assassination teams were so unpredictable.

Now I needed to become like them. Moving to the next part of the training, the surroundings changed to a somewhat outdated but ordinary office. A training dummy AI appeared before me.

This appeared to be everyday object combat training. I grabbed a nameplate and swung it at the charging dummy, but it wasn’t very heavy—just barely enough to beat someone to death.

The flowerpot was too light and hollow because its contents were hologram generators rather than soil, so hitting a head with it didn’t deliver enough impact. A pen could pierce bare skin but was useless against even minimal armor.

In this situation, the best weapon was the enhanced body I was wearing. I raised my middle finger and jabbed it into the side of the dummy’s head. A confirmation window appeared saying the target’s computational assist device was destroyed and the brain damaged.

A standard security team helmet would crumple after two punches, with impact building up inside. Two light hits followed by a proper punch yielded quite good results.

I picked up a teaspoon, stabbed it into the dummy’s face, and drove it in with my fist. No, that was inefficient. The trajectory of my punch prevented proper penetration. It was better to stab with my palm or strike like a hammer.

This was training in how to kill. Learning to kill people with anything within reach. There was a reason for it—to help maintain order in a city that someone would give their life to protect.

That made it worthwhile. I hadn’t looked away or lost my purpose. Bellwether had taught us how to keep our eyes on the goal. I picked up speed, gradually increasing the pace.

With a clear purpose, you can somewhat soften the aversion to killing people. You need to push away that aversion and let curiosity rise.

Teaching isn’t about indoctrination. You have to think for yourself and move on your own. I held the teaspoon by the head and used the handle part. Optimizing.

I could understand why nationalists treated returned children as child soldiers. They could repeat this for eight hours straight.

I finally left virtual reality at 9 PM, used the shower, said goodbye to Tina, and left the office. After returning home, I immediately called Chance and asked:

“Chance, what kind of city was Detroit in your memory?”

What Chance remembered wouldn’t be that helpful. He was from before that war. Still, there was no AI better than Chance when it came to history lessons.

“It was a tenacious city, sir. A city that rose from ruins. The headquarters of the company that made Agent Arthur Murphy’s bike was also in Detroit before that war.”

Chance displayed images of the city from his database. Photos from before that war. Photos from before that war had a distinctive coloration. I couldn’t tell exactly how the colors differed, but they did.

Driverless cars cruising the roads, proud expressions on people’s faces, even a giant billboard advertisement reading “The Windy City will stop when the wind dies down, but Detroit knows how to row itself.”

“Of course, it couldn’t escape the aftermath of that war. All I remember is that Detroit was completely destroyed. There must have been reconstruction efforts.”

This was beyond what Chance knew. I gathered information using my freelancer access to Heroism & Hope to learn about work-related knowledge. As Chance had said, there had been reconstruction efforts.

Detroit had geographically supported the nearby nationalists, but in the nationalists’ support programs, Detroit wasn’t a top priority. Not even second or third. It was almost at the bottom.

The city’s condition was so poor it would have been classified as black in triage, a “wait and see” judgment. It had once made a spectacular comeback, but wasn’t so lucky the second time.

It was simply misfortune. Not being chosen in someone’s armchair theory wasn’t the city’s fault, but the city had to bear the responsibility. It was absurd.

After that came Heroism & Hope’s acquisition of the city, and now Ms. Serena’s hero drama was being broadcast year-round. A drama with scripts but no stunts.

It was quite well-received. Glory & Gore’s arena had rules, but Heroism & Hope’s hero drama had none. Everything would feel very real.

After looking into it for a while, I closed all the windows. Continuing would only give me a headache. I threw myself onto the bed and connected a call to someone I needed to inform about this job.

It didn’t take long. Eve’s voice was still pleasant to hear.

“Good evening, Arthur. What’s up?”

There was almost no coldness in her tone now. Even if it was just for me, such a change was quite significant.

“Ah, it’s about field work. I’ve been assigned a security detail for two weeks starting December 27th, right after Christmas. I thought I should let you know when I got the assignment.”

“Two weeks… Then we’ll have to visit the cult leader after you return. This security job isn’t particularly dangerous, is it?”

“It’s ordinary enough that they’re looking for freelancers for security reasons. It wasn’t just my decision either—Manager Yoon and Enzo also reviewed the contract with me.”

It was close to not being a lie. It wasn’t a security job to begin with. I wasn’t sure if I should be less critical of K next time.

“Then I guess there’s no need to worry, but…”

The silence lasted about three and a half seconds. If you can count one second precisely, you can measure the length of silence, and turn that wait into anticipation.

“Two weeks is definitely long. I’ll miss you. Do you have shifts at least? Or is it 24-hour close protection?”

The cover contract specified two shifts. I double-checked to avoid errors before answering.

“There are shifts, so I’ll contact you when my shift ends. It’s after Christmas anyway, right?”

“That’s fortunate, but… Okay, see you tomorrow. I need to spend more time. From the day after tomorrow, we might grab a beer after work, but honestly, those are just brief moments.”

“Without any plans?”

“I’ve learned that whenever I make plans for something, I always get entangled with you. I want to see what happens when I don’t plan.”

Hearing that, I turned on my computational assist device and brought up a map of the Greater LA area in my mind. After quickly scanning through the points of interest that instantly appeared with the help of my computational assist device, I answered:

“Then I’ll make the plans. How about going to the Hive? It’s a building full of merchants who specialize in dealing with mercenaries, and there’s even a bar on the first floor. Seems like a decent place to spend a holiday.”

“Sigh, I wasn’t supposed to be told… Alright. Fine. Since you chose the place, I’ll see what it’s like. Don’t prepare anything too elaborate, okay? You know what I mean.”

“I remember what you said you enjoyed. Definitely.”

Another silence followed for about four or five seconds. I had a good memory and knew how to recall necessary memories when needed.

“That… you’re really good at leaving people speechless. Yes. Going out with you makes even visiting the cult leader enjoyable, so no matter how strangely you plan things, it won’t be a bad day. Right.”

Her tone became a bit more hushed, suggesting that while it wasn’t too embarrassing to mention, she didn’t want others to hear it. I couldn’t help but laugh.

“And now you say everything you want to say, whether it leaves you speechless or not.”

“I’m an adaptable person too. See you tomorrow, Arthur.”

That night was quite long. Was it because of the training? Maybe not. Everything I learned that day was being processed. It was being converted into long-term memory connected to my computational assist device.

From now on, I would remember how to kill people with anything I could get my hands on. I would also remember how efficiently this body I wore could destroy human bodies.

At the same time, I would remember Eve’s voice. I would remember the length of those three-second and four-and-a-half-second silences. I remembered normal things as much as I remembered inhuman, abnormal things.

As always, I woke up at dawn. Even for a trip to the Hive, I needed to prepare, so I started by taking out my carbine and disassembling it for cleaning. The sound of polishing metal always calmed my mind.

I packed two extra magazines into the gun case, then disassembled and cleaned Small Misdeed as well. It was in excellent condition. I checked it by rotating it in one hand with the magazine removed. It was clean.

I traced the words “Small Misdeed” that Special Operations had engraved with the blade of their fingertips. Had I become somewhat accustomed to the term “Small Misdeed”? Perhaps. The job with H Entertainment was also a small misdeed.

But I hadn’t accepted those words to my core. Only when Small Misdeed’s barrel is rightfully pointed at me and I can say “This is the smaller misdeed” will I have truly accepted it to the bone.

With the magazine inserted, the 3kg piece of metal with 21 rounds was back in my hand. The name “Small Misdeed” seemed almost ridiculous. Small Misdeed was as heavy as my carbine without its magazine.

After finishing preparations and confirming that rain hadn’t flooded the streets and that the morning sunlight was showing less smog than usual, I left home. I pushed the gun case under the bike seat.

The morning news was uninteresting. Half & Half Company reported losing another Bella model, but nobody cared, while Heroism & Hope was advertising a new character.

“Brutal criminals require brutal solutions.” That seemed likely to become my catchphrase. A voice that wasn’t mine recited the catchphrase as a silhouette appeared.

Isn’t it meaningless to show a silhouette of someone people wouldn’t recognize anyway? It was inefficient, but that was the entertainment industry. I came from the defense industry.

At least Eve didn’t know that was me. I couldn’t imagine how much she would have teased me. I accelerated again toward the Hive. In front of the Hive building, I saw a familiar bike silhouette.

Eve, seeing me approach, removed her helmet, revealing her flowing deep blue hair, and waved lightly. It hadn’t been that long since we’d last met, but soon it would be.

“I figured it would be much better to enter with a freelancer by my side than going in alone. It’s quite an impressive place. What did you come here to do?”

The Hive I saw this time, unlike the last time when I viewed it through one-meter visibility smog, was quite an aesthetically pleasing building. From the second floor to the top, the windows on the building’s facade were divided into a honeycomb pattern.

“I wanted to use the virtual reality access room on the third floor. They said they have an official partnership with Nature & Nature for relaxation purposes. Do you like natural scenery?”

Eve immediately frowned. She tried hard to smooth her expression but then let out a heavy sigh.

“No, not at all. At Hollowed Creek, they used to give that experience to kids who followed the cult leader’s words well, calling it Eden and whatnot. The helmet-type access devices were also used for making copies… Ugh, here I go again.”

I was quickly trying to reorganize the schedule in my head when Eve extended her hand. I took it. She took a slow, deep breath, seemingly suppressing an instinctive discomfort.

Hollowed Creek had certainly painted all her memories, knowledge, and emotions with the color of fanaticism. But now she knew how to scrape away that paint.

“You said you’re going on field work from the 27th. With barely two weeks left, I don’t have time to show aversion reactions. I’m even used to the name Eve now. I won’t be afraid of virtual reality access devices that cost dozens of credits per hour.”

Just as I had trusted Günter and walked into the cultivation tank, connecting straps to my wrists and ankles, Eve trusted me and willingly joined me in the Hive’s virtual reality access room. We connected to Nature & Nature’s scenery.

I chose the island I had seen advertised on the street. Since the island had disappeared during that war, the entire space was a patchwork of someone’s memories. There were still many gaps.

Some areas were filled with automatically generated landscapes, while others displayed messages saying they were inaccessible due to insufficient data—it was still a landscape under construction.

But that was enough. The sky without terrible smog, the beating sun, and the white buildings heated by that sun on the island were sufficient to make the incomplete parts unnoticeable.

Looking around the scenery leisurely, Eve spoke. Unlike her initial concern, she was relaxed, not even needing to catch her breath.

“How many credits per hour did you say this was, Arthur?”

“It’s… 40 credits per hour. Why?”

“It seems at least twice as good as the virtual reality the cult leader gave the kids and called Eden. It’s ridiculous that I couldn’t enjoy something like this because of memories of a 20-credit-per-hour paradise.”

When you strangle your fears and aversions one by one, eventually only what you can enjoy remains. I needed to explore more ways to strangle that 20-credit-per-hour paradise.

But that wasn’t what I needed to do now. What I needed to do now was enjoy this 40-credit-per-hour scenery. In that virtual reality, I reclaimed the leisurely holiday I had lost yesterday.