Ch.176Work Record 026 – Iconoclast (2)

When Arthur-2 returned around the time people were heading to work, there was a long bruise mark on his face. Vola had probably taken him to that gun shop he knew.

The gun shop owner must have tried to test Arthur-2, saying he doesn’t sell weapons to “meat chunks,” resulting in a different outcome than when I had simply pulled out my emergency switch to remove my prosthetic hand.

Vola let out a leisurely laugh through his voice synthesizer. It seemed like a laugh of approval, so the result couldn’t have been too bad. Instead of the sulking Arthur-2, Vola explained.

“Ah, damn. How can you be so similar yet so different from each other? That gun shop guy threw a punch, but he caught the arm, pulled it while aiming a pistol from the counter at his chin…”

“Lacked the strength, I’m guessing? Judging by the bruise on his face.”

Arthur-2 growled at my natural deduction. This was precisely where we differed.

“If I’d had proper strength-assist equipment, nothing would have happened, Arthur-1. Not everyone in the world wears a Posthuman Type IV like you.”

Vola covered Arthur-2’s head with his alloy hand and stroked it lightly. Another difference—how easily he quieted down when petted.

It might just be that his indignation hadn’t fully subsided. Such feelings don’t disappear overnight. Still, Vola seemed to prefer him this way.

“Ah, everything else is fine, but you were a machine made of meat chunks, so there was never any need to replace parts. This one was actively looking to swap things out? Says modifying is cheaper than getting a whole new body. I like that.”

Since Vola was an excellent prosthetics maker, respected even by Talos and Mr. James, there shouldn’t be any problems. I tried to imagine what I had achieved through biotechnology being accomplished through mechanical engineering instead.

Apart from the small bruise on his face, Arthur-2 looked good. He wore urban camouflage combat fatigues with a helmet, light body armor… and even carried a submachine gun.

When Vola tried to pet him again, he put on his helmet and approached me. Apparently stung by my earlier comment about his lack of strength, he started grumbling.

“You said it’s work time, Arthur-1. Explain about the other employees. I’ve got my mercenary license and need to participate in this job… if I’m going to be here, I should be participating, not just observing.”

He shows distance from me but then suddenly comes close. I held back a smile at his sense of responsibility and let him look around the office.

It was getting quite busy compared to when there were just eight of us. If more people joined, would Ms. Nadia need to move? After briefly considering this, I introduced my former colleagues first.

When I mentioned Vola was field staff, he commented that while Vola would be good for frontal assault, he’d also be useful for rear infiltration. At the mention of Eve being a medic, he tapped the floor with his toe, seemingly concerned about her legs.

He looked at Kay, the IT specialist, with some suspicion, but nodded comfortably at the mention of Enzo. When I talked about Tina, he asked if a public racer could be trusted.

As always, Enzo was the best at earning people’s trust in Yakyung. Our cash alchemist who could conjure anything needed with money and drop it from the sky.

“And over there with the dual pistols is Mila. Her position is… sniper, I guess? Even though she uses pistols, her aim is frighteningly accurate. Almost like a designated marksman.”

As I tried to move on with the explanation, Arthur-2 leaned his head toward me. I bent down to match his height, and he whispered softly.

“She talks a lot. When working, she can be quiet… but you say things to that woman that ‘I’ would never say. Are you hiding something?”

“She’s from the wasteland and still not used to city ways. So with Mila… I speak in terms that would make sense in the wasteland.”

Mila energetically nodded with her hands on her hips. Instead of properly drawing her pistols, she made finger guns and pretended to spin them.

“I always wanted to use pistols in the wasteland, so I learned well! My parents were people who lived from before that war, and they sometimes showed me movies! Westerns!”

As Mila reminisced about the past, mentioning a handful of pesos, the unrepentant, and listing names of many old movies, Arthur-2 again seemed to sense something off.

For someone who always told me such people couldn’t possibly remain after that war, Mila was one of those rare pre-war culture enthusiasts who somehow survived.

“I suppose so… What about the rest?”

Arthur-2 pointed at the new employees who were exchanging trivial conversations with Kay. Seeing this, a slender newcomer from the entertainment industry stood up.

He had an overall elongated impression. Standing just over 180 centimeters tall, his body wasn’t bad, but he didn’t have that broad-shouldered look, making him appear slender. Perhaps it was also because of his short hair.

He showed off the grenade launcher slung over his shoulder with a long strap. It had a six-round cylinder attached, and a Belwether stock for more comfortable firing.

“Call me Jay. Not the alphabet J, but J-A-Y. Though my callsign will always be Juliet. I’m a grenadier. Can’t really use lethal rounds much…”

“Even if you can only fire smoke or gas grenades, I know how helpful that can be for operations. As a grenadier, there’s one concern, but you probably know what it is.”

Jay waved both hands dismissively. He projected a photo into Arthur-2’s field of vision and spoke rather proudly.

“I’m not a demolition maniac who gets orgasms from firing booms and making things explode. Instead, I’m an amateur guitarist. Addicted to KSC’s krill nuggets, and… pretty normal.”

Being able to introduce oneself as mundane as possible is a sign of a good person. Arthur-2 also softened his sharp voice.

“If you doubt that much… I momentarily forgot that it would only be disparaging the company that I—no, Arthur-1—has been working for. I like krill nuggets too. Though not enough to proudly call myself an addict.”

Since changing bodies, I’ve found them unpleasant due to the fishy smell. When greasiness combines with that fishiness, it becomes quite unappetizing.

Only eating dishes made with real ingredients makes me feel better. My body has rather high maintenance costs. There was no option to choose one with better efficiency.

The other newcomer sitting nearby also stood up. With a thick Russian accent—actually, somewhat exaggeratedly thick—she extended her hand stiffly to Arthur-2.

“Kalisa Milinov. My position is…”

Interrupting her, Jay flicked his hand and said with an amused expression:

“It’s an alias. More precisely, a role name. I heard her real name is Emily.”

Coming from the entertainment industry sometimes means that role names can be more familiar than real names. My conclusion was to remember her as Emily but address her as Kalisa.

Emily pressed the end of her strength-enhancing prosthetic hand firmly on Jay’s head, only releasing it after he made an exaggerated sound of pain. Her accent remained unchanged.

“Please just know the name Emily. Kalisa is more comfortable. It was the role I was given when I was a child actor at B Entertainment—Kalisa Milinov, a cold Russian war machine, that kind of feeling.”

Blood and Blade Entertainment. They only produced rather clichéd content with repetitive themes, which is why they were quickly absorbed by G Entertainment.

She had an appearance quite close to the stereotype: skin pale to the point of whiteness, neat blonde hair, a distinct bridge of the nose, and perfectly matched bright blue eyes.

Though she carried a carbine, the most eye-catching thing was undoubtedly the high-frequency blade at her waist. True to their company name, they were skilled with high-frequency blades, and she was still using what she had learned there.

“Anyway, my position is just a regular rifleman. But that doesn’t mean this on my waist is just for decoration. It was a company that knew people would like good sword action scenes if given a good blade.”

She was subtly implying that both the quality of the high-frequency blade and the person wielding it were good. And also a calm acknowledgment that this alone wasn’t enough.

Being born as a child actor meant she had quite impressive specs. In this high-speed era, there aren’t many proper programs for children.

Arthur-2, who had been quietly listening to the explanation, nodded briefly. President Yoon, who had been watching the introductions, walked up to Arthur-2.

“It’s a small three-story building. One entrance at the front, one at the back. The enemies know a mercenary company is coming, so they’ve set up an ambush on the second floor and barricaded the third floor. What will you do?”

If similar, it would be like when we eliminated the Battering Ram Vigilantes or when we cleared out the NFD company and the Vegas Strip guys. But as a sample problem, the situation was much simpler.

The hologram projector turned on, modeling a low commercial building in an urban area. Arthur-2 began speaking almost immediately, as if without a moment’s hesitation.

“Since it’s only three stories high, we can infiltrate without needing rappelling, so I’ll send Arthur-1 to the roof first. First, neutralize the roof guards and create a disturbance from the rear, which they wouldn’t have expected.”

In most cases, people believe that if there’s no way up, no one will come up. This is usually correct, but occasionally there are those who stubbornly climb up.

“It would be better to equip him with gas grenades. Since it appears to be an urban area, non-lethal suppression gas would be ideal. Tear gas would be better since we need to make them flee.”

It was somewhat fascinating to see him reciting exactly the method we used when purging NFD. President Yoon, who was asking while reviewing the operation records, seemed satisfied.

“After that… well, nothing special, just put a full-body cyborg mercenary with additional armor plating at the front, provide sniper support, and eliminate the enemies driven from the third floor on the second floor. That’s all.”

“That’s the textbook approach. I’ll pick out some good operation records for you to review. I’m in the office most of the time, so feel free to come ask me anything.”

The natural sequence of reviewing operations and heading out to work continued, but around 10:30, suddenly my computational assist device started emitting a warning sound as if it were being torn apart.

I wasn’t the only one feeling it. Everyone with computational assist devices was clutching the sides of their heads at the similar sound. It was an emergency message from Belwether. A map with coordinates was displayed.

‘Android hostage situation at this location. Roads connected to this point have been temporarily closed, please detour.’

The location was… on the outskirts of the metropolitan area. A common five-story office building. After waiting a bit longer, President Yoon seemed to receive a call, slightly nodding before placing his hand on the hologram projector to connect.

And above the projector… a Shepherd’s helmet with fluorescent blue paint-like marks appeared as a hologram. It had been quite a while since I’d heard the Shepherd’s voice.

“This is Gerard McNamara, current Belwether Los Angeles Branch Security Chief and Acting Branch Manager. Callsign Shepherd. I’m assigning an emergency task to the mercenary company Yakyung.”

The emergency assignment that came right after that message must be related to what was summarized as an “android hostage situation.” Shepherd began the briefing bluntly.

“This is a request to eliminate a low-risk hostage situation that occurred in the suburbs. The perpetrators are activist androids affiliated with the Non-Human Liberation Front, and other activists are currently in a standoff at the scene.”

A “low-risk hostage situation” doesn’t mean the situation itself isn’t dangerous. It means the importance of the hostages isn’t very high. They’re likely neither Belwether employees nor employees of Belwether’s partner companies.

If Belwether partner employees or Belwether employees had been captured, the Special Operations Division would already be jumping out of helicopters, or snipers from the Assault Division would have been deployed. Since that’s not the case, a partner company is stepping in.

“There are a total of 7 perpetrators. According to information provided by the Non-Human Liberation Front, they are Transparent Eye Denialists. As per our policy, there will be no negotiations. Additional information has been sent in document form.”

Transparent Eye Denialists. What grows distant from the body also grows distant from the mind. Without transparent eyes to believe in and follow, they might have fallen into nihilism or skepticism, leading to such actions.

How ironic that androids who worship artificial intelligence that infects their minds to self-replicate transparent eyes are actually more peaceful and safe. It seems that while God may be useless, religion can sometimes be useful.

The distributed materials, formatted in Belwether style, stated that while it would be ideal if no hostages were lost, casualties could be accepted if within reasonable limits.

Among the things a megacorporation can say to citizens outside its authority, this is perhaps the most compassionate. It’s inefficient to disregard hostage lives just because they’re of low importance.

To begin with, Belwether’s security team doesn’t have such a policy, and letting low-importance hostages die would make even Belwether employees or partner company employees, who are the objects of protection, feel insecure.

The instruction to care about hostages isn’t for the hostages’ sake. It’s for the city to function properly. But thanks to that, even low-risk hostages won’t die. That’s enough.

I flip through and read the materials containing basic information about the hostage-takers. President Yoon, who had replaced his porcelain-glossy prosthetic hand with a matte black one, lightly tapped the office desk with his fist.

“Change clothes and prepare for work. When we arrive, Enzo will pretend to negotiate to buy time while we find a way to enter. Since it’s a hostage situation, we need to move cleanly. Understood?”

No one fears Enzo. At first glance, he looks like a fragile person who could be bullied into doing whatever you want. Because of this, those androids will be led around by Enzo.

A unified response came back. Vola was gruff, Ms. Eve despised hostage situations themselves, Arthur-2 despised those inefficient beings. Kay looked as if something was bothering him.

He might think all this happened because he released the Transparent Eye, and that’s probably true. Still, at least he didn’t run away. Time to head to the parking lot.

With Arthur-2 joining, not everyone could fit in one van, so we split into two. The first van carried the field staff, while the second van carried President Yoon, Arthur-2, and the office staff.

We pass through a city where the weight of the hostage situation is nothing more than a rumor—”I heard something like that happened.” It’s better than the whole city becoming gloomy and worried because of this one incident.