Ch.169Work Record #025 – Winning and Losing at Coin Toss (2)

I needed to find the source of the information leak. She… or my copy had memories up to Adrian’s escape from Belwether. Probably October 3rd.

I couldn’t clearly remember if I had undergone a brain scan after that, but the first person who came to mind was Jack. The scientist who tried to replicate Type IV using my brain. He should be in a brain prison now.

When Jack was cultivating a posthuman using my brain, did he feel enough guilt to create a new body for me? Or did he discard the brain but somehow preserve the information inside it and transfer it to another body?

There was no way to find out. Jack would now be an immortal of this era, tucked away in some corner of the brain prison without even a name tag. What I needed to figure out immediately was… why she was at Half & Half Company.

There was something I needed to make clear before finding anything else. I am not a fake. I lightly place my hand on the side of my head, attempting a short-range connection between her computational assist device and mine. It connects.

“Yes, Arthur. That’s probably how you remember it being real… but unfortunately, I’m the original. As you just saw, I also have a computational assist device implanted. I got the surgery from someone I know, and I haven’t heard anything about brain stuff.”

And it wasn’t just anyone, but Mr. Günter. If my memories were the copies, Mr. Günter would have definitely commented on it. He would have at least found it strange when implanting the computational assist device.

I catch her wrist as she swings her fist at me again. If I am me, I should act like myself. I apply slight pressure to her wrist, and she doesn’t even make a sound of pain, just glares at me with burning eyes.

“And if you were Arthur Murphy like you claim, you wouldn’t be doing this. I’m someone who can talk things through. I’m someone who finds the most rational solution in any situation. Don’t you think so?”

“When the bastard who stole my life is right in front of me, I’m not going to rely on rationality! The top priority is getting it back first. If you were Arthur Murphy, you’d know that much.”

I recall the time of reckoning when I was too busy to think about the future. She was the version of me still stuck in that time. I push the muzzle of Small Evil under her chin. Making things clear.

“That’s true. Still, if the best option fails, you should think of the next best one. I just want to know where my information leaked from and why it flowed into Half & Half Company.”

She doesn’t flinch at the gun barrel. She doesn’t groan in pain. Somehow, I even feel an eerily similar quality in her tone. An inexplicable discomfort crawled up my body.

But I wasn’t stupid enough to pull the trigger because of that discomfort, and she wasn’t stupid enough to keep flailing her limbs in this situation. She made a sound like she found this ridiculous.

“Half & Half Company? Oh, that place I got these clothes from? Why do you think I came from there when my body isn’t even Bella standard? I stole the clothes. You know how to call their security team, right?”

“Simple. They would have contacted security when they found a Bella wandering outside, and then?”

I gave a short nod as if asking her to continue, and she started speaking. Her voice was completely different, but her manner of speaking was similar.

“I took care of that guy and stole his clothes and equipment. I thought about infiltrating Half & Half Company to steal a submachine gun or something, but since the computational assist device is different, I thought I’d get caught, so I just left.”

Yes, she’s definitely me. Ridiculously me. Ridiculously, she also seemed disgusted looking at me. She seemed to have just realized that we were beyond just understanding each other well. No, there was a bigger reason.

If she’s me, she would know that I’m good at lying. And she would also know very well that I only lie when it’s necessary to get through a situation.

We are essentially the same person. We just have slightly different bodies. From her perspective, this was definitely a situation where lying was necessary to get through.

Then she would try to verify. She growled like an animal, with two bullets still lodged in her shins, barely having received hemostasis and painkiller injections. She asked something only I would know.

“What was the stupidest thing you did in high school?”

“Implanting a small spyware in the head of that nationalist officer who messed with Ray, so the map program wouldn’t sound an alarm. What happened after that?”

She snorts at my question. Right now, she believed I was using that copied brain. I’m the real one. I could be certain.

“He came into Belwether’s security jurisdiction to catch an armed robber, got disarmed and detained. That incident caused a commotion for a year. Who cultivated Arthur Murphy?”

Her attitude became somewhat more neutral. She says Arthur Murphy, not me. If she’s me, she would have started considering the possibility that she herself might not be Arthur Murphy.

“Robin J. Manager of Artificial Uterus Team 3 at Panacea Meditech Cultivation Team. All the other returned children were also under Manager Robin’s care. What was Manager Robin J’s usual appearance?”

What I asked this time was relatively low-security information, but it was trivial. The password to meet Robin J was important information, but this was something that could be forgotten.

Because we could recognize Manager Robin even if we couldn’t recognize her appearance. I wondered if she remembered things she didn’t need to remember, but she answered confidently.

“She wears a white coat over her shirt and stuffs goggles with HUD in her pocket. I think I know why you’re asking, body thief. If what’s implanted in my head is a mechanical brain, I would have forgotten such things.”

“Don’t jump to conclusions, Arthur-2. I use an AI that can think properly like a human as my AI assistant. That server computer you examined has a proper AI in it.”

She saw me as an enemy, so she tried to irritate me by calling me a body thief to break my composure, while I no longer saw her as an enemy, so I tried to use the most objective name possible.

That’s the only difference. From her perspective, she died just yesterday and came back to life now. I survived for about three months. A lot happened during that time, and I became a slightly different person. That’s all.

“Don’t call me ‘two,’ body thief. Remember when Harry dated Ray in 11th grade? They were quite a good match. An office worker with good grades and the second-ranked student in our year as a couple.”

This question contains a lie. Harry, who graduated top of his class from Belwether’s affiliated university, was focused solely on studying throughout high school. He even wore glasses because he hadn’t gotten eye implants yet.

Did my question seem like I was simply asking her question back? There was no way I would fall for my own trick. I answered with a sigh.

“No, Harry and Ray never dated. And Harry didn’t graduate second in our class, he graduated first. It seems like you’re starting to have information confusion, so when was Arthur Murphy’s first relationship?”

She growled in response to my words. It wasn’t the sound of a beast howling. It was the simple sound of an animal not wanting to lose what’s theirs. It wasn’t an answer to my question, but she knew exactly.

“That’s because the first-ranked student was involved in an unsavory incident, and although a disciplinary committee wasn’t convened, the teachers’ meeting concluded that the top position should be taken away. I wasn’t particularly upset about it, Arthur.”

Eve, watching from behind, would hope the answer matches what she knows, but sadly, it didn’t. The first reason was that I had never told her about it. Arthur-2 answered confidently, but her answer was strange.

“My first relationship was in middle school after I decided to aim for the security team. I thought they really liked me, but they just thought a kid who trained with a rifle from age fourteen looked cool, so we broke up soon after.”

This was true. I had told Eve about this before. But that wasn’t the first one. I brought the hologram projector from the living room and placed it between us. The smell of dried blood wafted through the air.

“Chance, find the records from June of 4th grade in the Belwether Elementary School graduation album records over six years. Select a part where my face appears and display it here. It’s probably in the corner of a group photo.”

After saying that, I decided to check one last time. I needed to be sure whether I was falling for my own trick or if she really didn’t know. I examined Arthur-2.

She seemed a bit flustered. Probably because I called my AI assistant in my head as if I had seized an opportunity. I asked her slowly. To help her recall.

“Can you tell me anything that happened before 7th grade? I’ve told Eve about the relationship story you mentioned, but I’ve never told anyone about anything before that.”

Of course, she didn’t know who Eve was. After thinking for a while, she started speaking with a somewhat uncertain voice. She couldn’t remember. There was no excuse she could make.

She also had a computational assist device. If what was in her head was the real brain of Arthur Murphy, my real brain, she would have been able to remember sufficiently.

“I remember elementary school graduation. Manager Robin J and… the administrative team leader from Belwether came, right? Besides, isn’t it rather strange for a twenty-three-year-old to remember exactly what happened in elementary school?”

Usually, the administrative team leader attends events related to returned children. The fact that she knew this accurately showed she was me, but from this point, her memories were becoming confused. She had answered inductively.

“No, someone else came to our elementary school graduation instead of the administrative team leader. The HR team leader from headquarters came. Because it was the first time the returned children taken in by Belwether had achieved something.”

Chance naturally displayed the graduation ceremony photo and the 4th-grade photo on the hologram screen. As I said, the person who came to the elementary school graduation was labeled as Belwether’s HR team leader.

And in the photo taken in 4th grade, a young Arthur Murphy was showing his hand holding tightly to the girl sitting next to him. It’s ambiguous evidence and an ambiguous photo.

To be honest, it was hard to call it a relationship. But if she remembered this photo, she should have known it could be used against her and should have explained this photo as well.

Just like how she tried to shake me earlier with the question about whether Harry was second or first in our class. But she didn’t do that. It wasn’t hard to infer why.

She was looking at the photo as if seeing it for the first time. And she couldn’t properly remember who came to the elementary school graduation. But I’m always someone who finds a breakthrough.

“Even with a computational assist device, a human brain is still a human brain. It’s natural to have information confusion about such old memories, body thief.”

“Then you should have remembered about the elementary school graduation, Arthur-2. It was the first time I met someone from headquarters, and that’s something you should be able to remember.”

There was no way I would have forgotten that memory when I was even more blindly devoted to Belwether than I am now. She made a reasonable point, but I also found my breakthrough in my own way.

“And yes, it’s natural for information to get confused. But you should still clearly remember one or two things. Not remembering anything at all is rather strange, Arthur. Dash. Two.”

She could have refuted this statement with a very simple method. She just needed to say the same things about childhood that I remembered. But strangely… or inevitably, she chose the next best option.

Of course, it wouldn’t work. All the words she tried to start using difficult concepts or common notions ended up trailing off without completing the sentences. Her expression slowly distorted.

She made a face as if she was about to vomit. As she slowly tried to curl up her body, I gently held her head with both hands and made her look at me by lifting her head. I made it clear.

“Save the identity crisis for after we finish the job, Arthur-2. Right now, we need to find out who cloned Arthur Murphy and put him in that body. If you were me, you’d agree.”

Eve, who had been supporting her from behind, tried to remove my hands from her head, probably thinking my actions were excessive, but it was then that Arthur-2 finally looked at me like myself.

“Yeah, that’s so like me. Fine. Yes, fine. That’s what I always repeat to myself while working. But get treatment first. You can’t go around looking for a copycat with someone whose legs are damaged.”

I am Arthur Murphy. I am someone who can communicate. She is also Arthur Murphy. We are people who can communicate. We were people who could overcome pressure and confusion with faith in duty. That was enough.

Eve, who was holding Arthur-2 from behind, let out a hollow laugh as if finding our conversation ridiculous. It must be an incomprehensible situation. On the contrary, Mila’s eyes sparkled.

“Really, Arthur. That works? Saying things like ‘Save the whining for later. Work comes first’?”

“I’ve never said that exactly, but do you know what I said to Kay when I came back from death the second time? ‘I have four holes in my chest and my thigh is shattered, but let’s take care of the backlog first.'”

I’ve always been this kind of person. I lift Arthur-2 gently, take the elevator down, and call a taxi. After covering Arthur-2’s ankles, we head to the hospital. Regenerative treatment will take about a day.

And during that day, we can talk to some extent. About the stories I experienced after dying and coming back to life, and the stories she experienced after dying and coming back to life.

In the taxi, leaning against the back of the seat, Arthur-2 glanced at Eve sitting in the front seat and then looked at me. She said something ridiculously like me again.

“Judging by your tone, that woman must be Eve, and seeing how she tried to stop you when you were pushing me… she cares about you. She must be a Hollow Creek escapee, right?”

“That’s right. She seems cold. But why did she give you a painkiller? One, to prevent shock death for interrogation. Or one, because she’s someone who can feel compassion even for an intruder.”

She excellently proved through her answer to my question that while she might not be me, she was indeed Arthur Murphy from three months ago. It was a statement worthy of Eve’s sharp gaze.

“The latter. She’s a good person. She seems cold, but judging by her expression when surprised, she’s not cold to the bone. If I had to make a bold guess, she’s probably softer than she appears.”

Eve looked at us with a fierce gaze for a moment but eventually sighed. She nodded briefly and dropped a single remark.

“Yes, it’s certain. Both of you are Arthur. One is a bit younger… but it’s certain.”