Ch.136Work Record #020 – Freelance Style, No Gimmicks (3)

That day, all of Detroit was talking about Mr. Ryland, Ms. Serena, and Gardner. The interest stirred during the intermission would inevitably translate into ratings.

It seemed to have already found a stable trajectory. All twelve defectors caught today were sent to the information processing team. They must have increased the staff allocation for me, as by evening, twelve chips were delivered.

Still not enough. And if the Call Sign Gardner series had reached a stable position, there was a matter to worry about. Given the emergency call during what was usually my rest time in the evening, it was obvious what this was about.

I headed to the conference room with the presentation Chance had prepared, thinking I might as well give my presentation while I was at it. The manager, Ms. Serena, Chris the Lobringer, and H Entertainment’s security team—whom I was meeting for the first time—were all there.

The security team stood at attention and saluted me as I entered, then cleared their throat. They seemed about to explain everything from the beginning, so I spoke first.

“The ratings seem to be stabilizing now, so I’m guessing other entertainment conglomerates are starting to push back. Which one is it?”

“Glad I don’t have to explain again. We’ve confirmed that N Entertainment has issued orders to mercenaries. They’re apparently nitpicking that Gardner’s character background is blatantly related to N Entertainment, calling it impersonation…”

While the pretext was impersonation, the real purpose was to counter our ratings. They’d be satisfied just inflicting an injury to force a broadcast hiatus, and if they managed to kill and end the show, they’d throw a party. But there would be no party.

“The actual purpose is because of the sudden spike in ratings after mentioning the Ryland Winters series. The city’s outer perimeter is our responsibility, but… you know how the entertainment industry works.”

“I’ve often heard that people in the entertainment industry sleep with their artificial eyes still on. So you’re saying we need to handle the infiltration ourselves?”

“That’s right. You’ve been granted temporary command authority, so you should be able to call and deploy personnel. The company-level countermeasures will be explained by the Executive Producer.”

He naturally passed the floor to the manager. The man was always gloomy and dry, yet somehow emanated strength. Speaking with uncharacteristically gritted teeth, he said:

“We’ve already made contact with Farmers Corp. We’re not usually on good terms with them either, but having a common enemy makes dialogue possible. We’ve agreed to publicly attribute the motif to Farmers Corp’s legal assassination team.”

This would blow away the other side’s pretext. It seemed they had someone to call when problems couldn’t be resolved by the security team. I continued listening quietly.

“And the materials created through our contact with Farmers Corp have been passed to the Market Keepers. If their pretext is false, then this is just forcing an issue to monopolize the market and ruining fair competition.”

“Market Keepers call that market failure. So we just need to hold out until the Market Keepers take action, right?”

“Correct. If N Entertainment is smart, they’ll stop after being blocked once or twice. If they’re stupid, they’ll keep trying and… be corrected. It shouldn’t be a long-term problem.”

His ability to resolve issues with just two communications was precisely why he stayed behind the angle. As the meeting seemed about to conclude, I held everyone back. They had all probably sacrificed their personal time to come here.

“Ah, I was planning to show this at the next episode meeting… but could I do it now? Since everyone’s already gathered.”

As I displayed the first page of the hologram presentation, the manager quietly gestured to the security team. Without being told to dismiss, they left the conference room, and the glass turned opaque, separating the inside from the outside.

The manager nodded briefly as if telling me to go ahead. It was time to do something truly useful with the trust I’d earned so far. I flipped to the first page of the hologram projector. The content was simple.

The first page summarized Gardner’s current situation, from being a two-week fill-in character to bringing in Detective Ryland. True to Chance’s work, it was so meticulously organized that it was actually easy to understand.

“Honestly, according to the original plan, I was just supposed to quietly leave the city in two weeks… but now things have gotten too big, wouldn’t you all agree?”

The gathered managers, Ms. Serena, and even Chris nodded. We all shared this premise. I could continue as myself, a freelancer, without Gardner’s gimmick.

“So, I think we need an exit strategy now. And this is the exit strategy I’ve prepared.”

I placed fourteen mind map chips on the conference table—two from yesterday’s processing and twelve from today’s. The manager slowly asked:

“Mind maps, I see. I heard you’ve been sending defectors to the information processing team. Viewers have been making various guesses. Starting with ‘He’s a psychopath who enjoys others’ death memories.'”

If there hadn’t been criminal organizations that Nightwatch dealt with who diverted cyborg recording devices to experience the moment of death in so-called “death experience halls,” I would have dismissed it as a joke.

“More important than these being mind maps is that they’re defectors’ memories. They contain things no one wants—things that can’t become entertainment.”

I picked just one, inserted it into the hologram projector, played it only until the part where they pointed guns at citizens, then removed it. Playing more of this in front of Ms. Serena would be inappropriate.

“I’m going to send all of these to the nationalists and blow this wide open. I’ll show them which defectors are killing people who were their own citizens until just a few years ago in Detroit, and who’s supporting them.”

I knew what objection would come—that this was too idealistic to make the defectors disappear. I was quite an idealist, but my idealism had a rather different direction from this.

“At best, we can expect the defectors’ support to be cut off. That’s enough. After I’ve killed dozens collecting mind maps, they’ll lose support and become isolated.”

“So your exit strategy is to exterminate the defectors? I can see the outline somewhat… but only somewhat. I think we need more explanation.”

These people were indeed weak when it came to emotions never used in broadcasts. Did they really grow up in the entertainment industry like those returned children? My suspicion deepened.

“In this morning’s script, Gardner was supposed to be impressed by Serena Vanderbilt, right? What Gardner hinted at the end of the morning segment…”

I replayed the dialogue about the park near the cemetery. This city is not Gardner’s garden. Tending to Ryland’s grave like a garden is not acceptable. It was obvious whose city it was supposed to be.

“This city is Ms. Serena’s garden, right? Gardner ultimately has to leave. He’ll train Ms. Serena before he goes, but he doesn’t expect someone to change dramatically in just ten days.”

Gardner was a caustic person. I could stake much on trust and expectations, but he couldn’t. I flipped to the next slide in the presentation—photos of defectors. I saw Ms. Serena clenching her teeth.

“I won’t go back on leaving. There are things Gardner can’t do but Ms. Serena can. Gardner has no idea how to make others happy, but Ms. Serena knows how to keep them from being unhappy.”

In Gardner’s view, she wasn’t incapable of being a gardener—just inexperienced. In contrast, he himself had not even a shred of talent for making others happy. So this was her garden.

“Gardner must entrust the garden to Ms. Serena, but if he’s anxious about doing so, he’ll try to eliminate the biggest source of anxiety—the factor that has actually ruined the garden and is likely to do so again.”

I tapped the hologram presentation lightly. My explanation had become lengthy to convince H Entertainment’s managers who understood emotional lines but couldn’t follow them, but honestly, it was simple.

Gardner would cut down the most unsightly trees in this overgrown garden and prepare the ground for Ms. Serena to grow a new garden before he left. That was all.

The manager finally nodded briefly. After considering it as if checking a storyline, and seemingly forgetting that this storyline was set in reality, he said:

“Not bad. Quite good, actually. The problem is… the method is quite realistic. I’m concerned that realistic violence combined with realistic methodology won’t look like content.”

This was an important issue in the industry. We had just been talking about things that couldn’t become entertainment, and now I couldn’t just say “not my problem” after using the basics of creative work whenever needed.

“That’s definitely something I hadn’t thought about. So then…”

I couldn’t show myself wracking my brain here. How could I make rolling a six on a die look like direction rather than luck? It might be simpler than I thought.

Show that the entire environment is controlled. Capture everything in the angle. It took less than a second to realize the obvious. I had no habit of acting slowly.

“Let’s capture everything in the angle. Gardner is different from the entertainment industry, right? Starting from killing the fat man in the first episode. Even if it’s quite realistic, people will believe it’s direction if the process is all captured in the angle.”

Having cameras follow me would not be disadvantageous. If there were unmanned cameras flying around me when I witnessed the defectors’ shameful acts with my own eyes, I would actually be glad.

And to show that this was direction, it would be better to find one or two crucial pieces of evidence within the angle as if by complete chance. Of course, the actual likelihood of that was slim.

Fortunately, we lived in an age where reality could be censored and truth could be manufactured. And by coincidence, an entertainment industry manager who stood at the forefront of truth production was right in front of me. Lucky me.

“The most important part of Gardner’s plan needs to be discovered within that angle for people to believe it… The angle doesn’t just include the inside of the city, right? I’m sure you’re monitoring outside the city as well.”

Just as there are no corporations that install CCTV and surveillance systems in other people’s bedrooms, there are also no corporations that don’t install any surveillance systems inside and outside cities. They always exist to some extent.

The manager nodded briefly. I flipped to the next page of the presentation, displaying the Federal Rehabilitation Support Bureau logo. This page didn’t seem to have been there originally—Chance must have added it while listening to our conversation.

Would the Federal Rehabilitation Support Bureau be so cautious as to hide their logo? Of course not. From their perspective, they were legally supporting the nationalist Detroit’s successor.

“This is the logo of the nationalist department supporting the defectors. Could you check if there’s any surveillance footage with this logo?”

“And then we just need to insert Gardner into that footage. If the angle includes scenes of Gardner tracking nationalist activities, it will definitely look prepared and directed.”

At least it would look more like H Entertainment’s long-cherished project than a documentary of a working freelance mercenary in action. That “at least” was enough.

“In an age where reality can be censored and truth can be manufactured. Even for them.”

The manager who had summarized what I said looked up. Still gloomy, still smelling like this entertainment industry, he said:

“In that case, good. The Call Sign Gardner series will end with Gardner exterminating the defectors. I approve. You’ll have support.”

I listened to his words feeling as if my project had just received an approval stamp. I decided to suppress the urge to cheer. Shouting was the defectors’ job, not mine.

“The writers will be relieved too. They’ve been racking their brains trying to create stories with all the attention but no direction. Now at least there’s a direction. Are you really not interested in changing jobs?”

“I think I’m fine where I am now. Call Sign Gardner, a character deployed by Heroism & Hope to exterminate defectors and reincorporate the Ryland Winters series into the worldview. Clean, isn’t it?”

“You know that’s not what I mean. You could take on any role you want besides Call Sign Gardner.”

“Then I’d like my role to be Arthur Murphy, a freelance mercenary from Los Angeles. You don’t need to pay me. It’s an independent film where I’m the actor, director, and writer all in one.”

Among polite rejections, it was the most definitive, and among definitive rejections, it was the most polite. If it were Walter, he would have sighed immediately and muttered, “Uncooperative, I see.” The thought suddenly occurred to me.

“You’re firm in your decision. What on earth is in Los Angeles that makes you reject without even hearing the conditions?”

“My life. If you pry into it, it’s not that great, but it’s too precious to just throw away.”

This was a lie. It was false modesty. I lived quite happily. Being able to achieve what I want with my own hands makes a person vibrant and happy.

The manager stared at me with those gloomy eyes as my answers came without even a quarter of a second’s hesitation. He seemed to be reminded of someone.

“You sound like Ms. Polaris. Very well. I’ll stop the job offer here. I don’t think I could persuade you anyway.”

It seems I’ve come to resemble Mr. Günter. Is it a good thing to appear as someone who only accepts proposals that please them? I wasn’t sure. So far, it hadn’t been too bad.

I would end up killing quite a lot of people. There was no need to feel guilty. The only times I felt guilty about killing people were with Adrian and the security staff member from Half & Half Corp.

They had no reason to die. Neither Adrian nor Frank, the Half & Half Corp security team employee, deserved to die, though Frank was certainly rude and impure. I killed them because I needed to.

The defectors were the opposite. Killing them brought me no benefit whatsoever. There was simply a reason to kill them. If we’re talking about guilt, I would feel more guilty leaving them alive.

Letting criminals who kill innocent people as if it were natural live would be tantamount to condoning those murders. I had no intention whatsoever of condoning them.

To remove those criminals from this city, I needed to wear Gardner’s mask. The freelancer’s dialogue and negotiations were just completed, so now it was time for Gardner’s high-frequency blade to do its work.