Ch.13Work Record #002 – Appropriate Results (3)

“Then, see you tomorrow at 9 AM. I’d like to say 6:30, but given the current time…”

Ms. Eve left after setting only the meeting time and disappeared into the parking lot. A motorcycle vanished, leaving a trail of light from its headlamp. I decided not to bother tracking its position by eye.

The manager had already gone home, and only Valentina and I were staying in the night duty rooms. Since the two rooms were separated by a wall, I could have some space to myself. That was something to be grateful for at least.

However, I occasionally heard sounds from inside the wall. It was like something small gently tapping against the thin wall. When I approached and knocked back, the sound would stop for a while. Was the building older than it looked?

Anyway, it wasn’t important, so I took out my phone and examined the case files that the department head had ordered Stephanet to upload to my phone.

For any organization, the term “splinter faction” brings peace of mind. Jaina had announced that while they opposed Bellwether’s human experiments, this terrorist act was the work of some extremist elements…

It was strange. That statement was accepted. The fact that the Information Processing Team had accepted this rebuttal without even opening up the spokesperson’s or Jaina representative’s head to check the contents was odd no matter how many times I thought about it.

After that, everything moved quickly. Jaina handed over a list of these splinter faction members to Bellwether, and even though these supposed extremists surely knew their names had been preserved on the net, they were easily eliminated by Bellwether’s strike team. Elimination happens when there’s nothing left to discover. When there’s still information to be gathered, they go to the Information Processing Team.

Surely they couldn’t believe that this “splinter faction” approached Francis through an online dating app and welcomed ten armed visitors, including one mutant.

I wasn’t sure if I was already falling into conspiracy theories or if this was bigger than I thought.

But claiming that some Jaina splinter faction could voluntarily discover that bioengineered monstrosity that even I, a Bellwether employee, didn’t know about, was closer to delusion.

They had no way of finding out. Not even one.

There was only one possibility. Was there a whistleblower at Bellwether? Perhaps someone who wanted to expose the creation of an inhumane and inefficient bioengineered monstrosity to the world by feeding information to Jaina.

And voices from inside are easier to identify than those from outside. The Information Processing Team would arrest that whistleblower and… no, that’s not possible under Branch Manager Sun.

The Information Processing Team doesn’t move with its own will. They don’t process people; they process tasks. They don’t extract brains from human bodies to read the gray matter; they just extract storage devices from machines to decode the contents. Forcing them to move was neither more nor less than a bad joke at Bellwether.

Besides, even if there was a whistleblower, contacting headquarters would have been simpler than using Jaina. The world didn’t know about that bioengineered monstrosity. Covering it up would have been easy.

The simplest method would be to infiltrate Jaina. I had all the conditions that would drive Jaina crazy: I didn’t have any cybernetic implants, and I could hide my enhanced body if needed.

That’s why the Jaina member I met in front of the hotel had tried to recruit me. The skin rots last. To check if fruit is rotten, it’s quickest to look inside.

The question was whether I could endure it. If Vola hadn’t struck first back then, I would have done it myself, and I wouldn’t have just twisted their neck a little like Vola did.

It would be better to try. I checked the net for Jaina’s information sources to see where they would be conducting recruitment activities—or “campaigns,” as they called them—tomorrow. I would go with Ms. Eve.

I hoped that superficial information would be enough, but that was unlikely. Not everything happens in fairy tales or nightmares. Most things occur in the very bland reality in between.

That’s as far as I planned. At least it seemed like we could make a bit more progress than just going in circles as I had told Ms. Eve. At the very least, I wouldn’t embarrass myself.

Only after thinking this through did I fall asleep comfortably on the hard cot. The Posthuman Type IV enhanced body could achieve the sleep efficiency of a normal person’s eight hours with just four hours of sleep.

I fell asleep around five in the morning and woke up just after eight. Had I thrashed around while waking up? I couldn’t quite remember.

Hearing Valentina’s breathing from the adjacent room, I went to the shower, cleaned up, and came out wearing a black t-shirt without Bellwether’s bell-shaped logo and a leather jacket, waiting for Ms. Eve.

She entered through the company’s automatic doors wearing the same outfit as when we first met. I had been waiting with my hands awkwardly in my pockets and only took them out after she came in. I didn’t feel the cold at all.

“Good morning, Arthur. You’re diligent. So, what’s your investigation plan?”

Her concise words somehow carried a warmth to them. Perhaps it was because all I had to worry about was not calling her by name.

“Ah, I couldn’t sleep last night, so I was looking around and saw Jaina members promoting an event online. They’re going to show videos of international sports competitions from before cybernetic implants, saying that the pure human body isn’t inferior but our original form… Well, it’ll eventually lead to futurism and zealotry. I thought I’d try registering there.”

Her eyes just quietly looked at me. It was a gaze that seemed to say I had more to tell, or maybe that was just my over-interpretation, but I eventually confessed.

“My goal is to try that if I don’t feel like beating them up. I have a much stronger aversion than you might think, senior. If I start clenching my fists, please stop me.”

“I’m not a mutant who can subdue a Type IV Posthuman enhanced body with bare hands, Arthur. Stopping yourself is your job. If you don’t think you can do that, it might be better not to go. What do you think?”

To be honest, what I needed today more than rushing into an investigation was some time to cool my head. But I didn’t want to sit with questions that had neither answers nor hints.

Which was more important? A day of rest, or taking even one step closer to the truth? I chose the latter. There would be holidays tomorrow too. If I failed today, I could rest tomorrow, combining today’s failure with tomorrow’s rest.

“I can do it. Last time when a Jaina member was spouting that disgusting nonsense in front of me and trying to recruit me, I didn’t throw a punch. There’s no reason I can’t do at least as well this time.”

Ms. Eve’s brow furrowed slightly, as if displeased. Or perhaps she was just trying to see more clearly. After that gaze lingered for a moment, she spoke again in her quiet, cool voice.

“I’ve warned you clearly. If you still want to go, I’ll follow. Do you know how to ride a motorcycle?”

“Even security personnel at Bellwether who don’t need to drive within the company must be able to operate both two-wheeled and four-wheeled vehicles, so I got my license in college. Oh, and according to traffic laws, Posthuman enhanced bodies from Type III up don’t even need to wear helmets. In most accident scenarios, the risk of critical injury to the neck and head is lower than for helmeted drivers. Fewer fragments are better.”

I had researched this, but while I was speaking, Ms. Eve’s gaze became so sharp that I thought if there was an expression that could kill with just a look, it would be that one.

She said just one word. I didn’t want to hear a second. It was cold, but that coldness tasted of concern.

“Wear it.”

“Ah, yes.”

It felt like being K, elaborately arguing only to be shut down with a single word. Still, I couldn’t refuse her concern. I put on the universal-sized helmet she tossed me. Again, my face wasn’t visible.

Even for security personnel who rarely needed to drive, it was good to practice to increase the chances of promotion and assignment to better-paying departments. I had naively thought that becoming part of the security team would involve more experience than training. With the helmet on, I locked the office door and headed out. Again, it wouldn’t open when I stood alone.

Ms. Eve’s motorcycle was ordinary. It wasn’t specially modified, and it had just a plain white paint job, as if not drawing attention was more important than riding something fancy.

Today, at least, the sky was clear. There was a bit of blue visible. It seemed they were trying to precipitate smog using weather manipulation drones, and if so, that project was quite successful.

If the smog cleared, Los Angeles would once again be a city full of sunshine. Or maybe not. People blamed the weather when things got worse but took credit when things improved.

At least it wasn’t weather that would cause Jaina members to cancel their campaign. We headed to downtown LA. That was the first location I had in mind.

Jaina’s campaigns were more welcomed in areas where wealthy people lived, so it seemed better to visit the campaign site in the downtown area first.

Only those wealthy enough to dress well tried to make up for the faces they couldn’t cover with clothes by painting them with righteousness. Most ended up with thick makeup like geishas.

As expected, there was a fairly large campaign site. Placing a Jaina campaign site in front of the Farmers Corporation building, which was trying to eliminate smog with weather drones, was somewhat blatant.

It seemed that some high-ranking official at Farmers had committed an inefficiency so great that it needed to be covered with good deeds.

When an employee makes a mistake, the internal investigation team and security team come. When the board makes a mistake, the chairman’s personal security team comes. And when the chairman or executives make a mistake, the Market Keepers come—libertarian crusaders who recite their creed that markets must be free and money must flow like a bible, a pan-corporate special operations unit adorned in gold and black enhanced suits.

Corporations no longer had to worry about governments, but such smokescreens were always useful because of the Market Keepers. And the Market Keepers always saw through the smokescreens. That was a story from those lofty heights that wasn’t my business.

After parking the motorcycle in a nearby lot and hanging the helmet on the handlebar, I headed to the campaign site. Just seeing Jaina’s logo of caricatured people holding hands started to make me uncomfortable. I had to endure it.

Jaina members themselves weren’t such bad people. Most were just ordinary people asking whether we were turning ourselves into machines too much.

The problem was that the large organization wasn’t properly managed. Among them were malicious ones who connected people to doctors who stole cybernetic implants under the name of “demechanization procedures.”

The Jaina members here were good people. If I hadn’t taken the day off, they might be people who would go to work at Farmers behind us, or ordinary people who would gladly be part of society instead of shouting “Abandon machines!” elsewhere in the city. Only after repeating this to myself like self-hypnosis did I continue walking toward the campaign site.

A Jaina member handing out coated flyers spotted me and started walking over as if they’d found a target. Judging by the lack of artificial eyes and the prescription glasses that refracted light, this person was definitely a pure human.

I shed some of my great hatred. I don’t dislike this person. I’m trying to find the ones who threw my life into a pit before I somehow crawled to a place of rest.

Hating this person would be irrational. Therefore inefficient. Only after the word “inefficient” came to mind could I relax my eyes a bit. The woman approached with a smile.

“Hello! You seemed to be walking this way—are you here for our Jaina campaign? We decided to hold our campaign during the day because the people who show the least interest in our activities are mercenaries who need to be mechanized for professional reasons. And mercenary work is a profession that requires showing off. Many of you treat pure humans as weaklings, don’t you?”

A civic group that doesn’t ignore reality. That’s as rare as a mega-corporation that doesn’t cringe at the word “past.” I dug out some nice words and a moderately smiling face. Perhaps I was outputting them.

I needed to find the most efficient strategy. First, it was better to try to leave once. We shouldn’t seem to agree with that opinion from the first word. I should try to escape gradually and then let myself be caught at the end.

“You’ve certainly picked a good day and time. I just happened to come out with a senior colleague from work because it’s a holiday. But you know how much mercenaries hate people who try to teach them as if they’re something special, right? So…”

The woman took out a Farmers employee ID from her pocket and showed it to me. If I were to say that she was trying to teach me because she thought she was something special, I would show my displeasure and then look for another campaign site.

On the other hand, if she was trying to gain sympathy, I could continue with the plan. The situational judgment training I received at the security team training college was very helpful.

“Who would like being taught by others in this libertarian hell where everyone has to carve out their own place? There aren’t any instructors in the campaign site, so feel free to just take a look.”

It was the latter. I could enter this campaign site and continue with the plan. I wasn’t very interested in the campaign itself, but she continued talking.

“We want you to access our virtual reality and experience the physical abilities of the best athletes among pure humans from when science was crude. They’re quite impressive.”

There was an identity scanner at the entrance of the campaign site. Since wallets now contained chips that could be scanned, I wasn’t worried as I passed through, but something unexpected happened.

“Natural humans are beautiful. We will not forget that fact. Identity verification complete, Arthur Murphy.”

Why would they install a corporate-grade identity scanner that even calls out names at a place like this? It seemed they had simply installed the same identity verification system used by Farmers.

Ms. Eve had already passed through the scanner, and the voice started. There was only one speaker. The speaker output the same voice.

“Natural humans are beautiful. We will not forget that…”

Fortunately, the speaker wasn’t very loud. I reached out with my Type IV Posthuman hand to cover the speaker and let Ms. Eve in first. The scanner’s voice was absorbed by my skin, which dampened vibrations and impacts.

A Jaina member rushed over afterward, saying I shouldn’t touch the speaker, but at least I could help prevent my senior, who had come along on my boring and trite investigation, from recalling unpleasant memories.

Ms. Eve, who had momentarily frozen, perhaps knowing what words the scanner would use to welcome her, exhaled a shaky breath and entered the campaign site.

Eve is the name Hollowed Creek gave her. I thought someone who had risked their life to escape that place wouldn’t want to be called by that name in the middle of a main street, but I didn’t realize it would be this bad.

She needed some time to calm down. After taking several seconds to catch her breath, honestly, I expected her to say, “Please do the same when we leave,” but I heard something different than expected.

“Thank you, Arthur. It was a bigger help than you think. Really.”

She appears cold but gets flustered more easily than expected. Her emotions intensify more easily than expected… Perhaps I had judged her as a cold person too hastily.

To appear natural, I tried a few of the virtual reality experiences in the Jaina campaign site. They had perfectly recreated the bodies of several athletes in virtual reality, but they didn’t leave much of an impression on me.

Perhaps it was because my point of comparison was a Posthuman Type IV. On the other hand, after going through several virtual reality experiences, Ms. Eve’s expression became quite relaxed. I decided not to guess the reason. It was probably something personal.

Still, while caring about others, my hatred dulled. While observing her reactions, I didn’t need to pay attention to the Jaina members.

After watching a few clips of old sporting events, I could put my name on the Jaina membership list, which was the purpose of coming here. If they had many regular meetings that would make it easy to infiltrate, things would be much simpler.

Otherwise, my email inbox would soon be filled with membership fee reminders and donation solicitations. The latter was fine. Since Jaina wouldn’t affect my reputation, I could just redirect them to the spam folder.

I put down the pen, and having accomplished my goal, I was about to leave when a blue-striped dark gray prosthetic hand approached me from the side. I heard a familiar voice.

“Give me the pen, Shepherd Six.”

It was the voice of the Shepherd. That is, Bellwether’s head of security. I had reported to him directly via communication a few times, so I remembered his voice. I played dumb.

“Someone who isn’t here can’t give you a pen, Shepherd.”

As far as I knew, the only person who could wrap up the Jaina terrorist incident so simply would be the head of security, so my response was somewhat curt. He didn’t seem to mind much.

“If you weren’t here, you wouldn’t call me by my callsign. Arthur Murphy, general employee of the mercenary company Nightwatch. Do you take personal requests?”

Only after hearing that did I hand him the pen. I changed my wording in response.

“If it’s something like having a chat over a cup of non-synthetic tea in a café, sure. Not that it would happen, but how could I refuse when Bellwether’s head of security is here? What kind of request is it?”

“It’s exactly about having a chat over a cup of non-synthetic tea in a café. If it’s about the Bellwether employee impersonation case, you’d have something to say, right?”

Of course I’d get caught. I was already a shrimp with a burst back, but it seemed it would take a long time to be free from these whales.

Since I couldn’t run away, I sighed and nodded. It seemed appropriate consequences were coming my way.