Ch.181The Third Twilight of the Idol – Idol Destroyer (7)

Prometheus carried Mila’s body to the crematorium installed inside the bunker. He burned her dead body. He inserted the artificial brain into a new body prepared in the cultivation room.

Now she returns as Mila Joyce. An ordinary body without even the wound on the back of her head. Chance, who had been quietly watching her with my eyes, spoke first. He wasn’t using the voice module.

“Is that woman worth enough to carry the remnants of war technology from the extinction war era in her head? Worth enough to willingly drink from a cup filled with highly toxic hope?”

‘People all carry as much as they can bear, Chance. I just happen to have a strong back. You know that, right?’

“I’m not joking. And that’s a quote from Serena Vanderbilt.”

‘If you recognized that, then you also recognized it wasn’t a joke. Everyone takes just one brick from someone else’s words to reinforce themselves.’

Chance seemed to struggle to find a response to my statement that I was willing to take responsibility because I could handle it, but in the end, he probably couldn’t find the right words. Chance’s worried voice echoed in my head.

“I’m concerned, Agent Arthur Murphy. You know too many things you shouldn’t know, things others want to know. It’s hard to infer that this will lead to good results.”

‘To avoid even small evils, one has to accept that much, Chance. Are you worried about a total lack of ability?’

“I affirm. You are certainly a powerful and capable mercenary, but you’re just an individual. If a mega-corporation or the federal government begins tracking you, it’s almost impossible to hold out for long.”

‘Then all the more reason to get inside. Günter trusts me. The fact that there’s an agent who told me about Operation Prometheus means that I’m a usable resource in that woman’s mind.’

If I report that I’ve successfully neutralized Operation Prometheus and she confirms it, she’ll consider me someone she can definitely trust. I didn’t pass the fire to Bellwether.

Somehow, I need to establish my position that way. Once established, until there’s a need to overthrow even insiders, I might be able to avoid crises with the phrase, “That guy is our resource.”

Mila, who had been waiting in just a gown after washing the clothes stripped from her corpse, approached me. Her expression was too natural to call her Prometheus.

“Oh right, I’ll give you this too! I think you need it more than I do. It was originally an AI designed to block abnormal access attempts on me, but I don’t need it anymore, right?”

She probably doesn’t need excessive security software now that she’s discarded Prometheus’s fire. I bent down and pressed my forehead against hers as she rose on her tiptoes again.

There was no need to be this close for a short-range network connection. It was just to show her that we were mentally connected right now, and she seemed to like it.

My computational aid device connects to her artificial brain via short-range network. I can see information about the AI installed as a second layer in her artificial brain. Chance explained on my behalf.

“It’s a weak AI different from us. It’s programmed to detect abnormal access and counter-attack the attacker through the channels they use. This will be useful.”

A weak AI meant that I wouldn’t have another voice to talk to in my head. It used a shield-shaped logo with a woman’s head with snake hair.

After receiving the weak AI from Mila and setting up the counter-intelligence weak AI with help from Chance and her, I’m improving bit by bit in some direction from my total lack of ability.

In the corner of my vision where the translucent freelancer HUD appeared, a small shield-shaped logo floated, indicating that the AI she gave me was protecting my computational aid device. It was right next to the network indicator.

The psychological comfort provided by a single small indicator that wasn’t eye-catching was enormous. It would suit my work well. If the firewall K prepared was breached, I would be the first target.

If hacking is the only method that comes to mind to neutralize a Type 4 coming to handle office work, this weak AI would handle it. Its name was Aegis.

I was glad to have become a Bellwether biological weapon enhanced with technology from that war era, but what improved my mood even more was… that even in that war era, washing machines were still washing machines.

Mila’s clothes would take about an hour more to finish washing and drying, and until then, I could freely explore this base, which I decided was a good thing.

“Well, since we’ve just finished the purposes we’ve been holding in our hearts… shall we take that house tour we planned? You’ve only seen the study and the sleeping quarters so far.”

Mila’s eyes lit up. Whenever such incredibly human reactions appeared, I could hear Chance’s drive sound, suggesting he wasn’t used to it either.

“Sure! Oh, but you’ve seen the shooting range too, right? Then other places to see… hmm, ah. I know! Come with me to the viewing room! I have so many movies I want to watch with you!”

I follow her as she excitedly runs down the corridor made for Prometheus, not Mila, heading to the viewing room on the second basement floor. It had quite a few seats, suggesting it was originally a space for researchers.

When I accessed the viewing room’s system with my computational aid, I could see the researchers’ traces here too. The folder ‘Movies to Show Prometheus’ had already been changed to ‘Movies to Show Mila.’

The contents were all classic films. Movies that were about a hundred years old, or even older. They seemed to have selected masterpieces… but the researchers didn’t seem to have unified opinions.

Comments like “This movie should be preserved but it’s not entertaining” or “Isn’t this just a commercial film”… traces of the people who lived in this base were accumulated in memos left in the files. I move to another folder.

The folder of movies Mila liked was mostly Westerns. Movies featuring cowboys who spray bullets wildly with guns in both hands, but those bullets precisely pierce the heads of enemies.

The secret to Mila’s sniping skills is… perhaps just her taste. If she had liked sniper movies, she would have been a sniper, and if she had liked special forces movies, she might have moved like a special operations unit.

Some movies had an excessive play count, and I avoided those. They were probably movies she watched while remembering the researchers after they died in the power plant accident. I choose one with a moderately low play count.

I couldn’t understand the sentiment, and without Mila’s explanations as she sat pressed against me, I wouldn’t have enjoyed even half the movie. All I saw in that movie was a blue sky stretching to the very edges.

It looks just like a Christmas sky. Even on Christmas, the sky’s edges were always whitish as only the city sky was kept clear, but the sky in that movie was blue all the way to the edges.

The blue sky and soft sandy-colored wasteland were very different from the gray sky and bleached wasteland I knew. The world before that war must have been quite beautiful.

The sky was this color when I toured the now-vanished Mediterranean islands with N Entertainment’s program, but the sensation of seeing a familiar sight in different colors was completely different in scale.

By the time the movie ended, Mila’s clothes had already finished drying. The only dangerous thing in this base was Prometheus. Excluding that drone, this was just Mila’s ordinary home.

The dining area, which had been completely sealed off with a notice saying ‘Hydroponic facilities contaminated by radiation,’ was stacked with preserved food, and the treatment room had completely run out of neutralizers.

It was a very ordinary place and at the same time a place where the aftermath of the power plant accident remained very strongly. Mila stretched, smiled as if it had been a fulfilling day, and leaned against me.

“Today I brought you here because of the fire, but… bringing others would be because I want to spend holidays watching movies together! It was a satisfying day. In many ways!”

She lightly tapped near her temple. Both the disappearance of Prometheus’s fire and the introduction to her home… perhaps the latter made the day more satisfying.

Although Mila had a childlike and bright side, she wasn’t out of touch with reality. She put her hands on her waist and nodded. She spoke in her usual manner.

“Still, bringing colleagues here could expose Operation Prometheus, so I’ve downloaded the movies! And I’ll take a few books too.”

“Fire or not, if you ask someone to drive two hours through the wasteland on a holiday, even Tina who loves driving would make a face. Right?”

Mila burst into a small laugh. After giggling happily, she nodded.

“Neither Gong nor Racer would want to drive a lonely two and a half hours. Of course, I’m making you drive a total of five hours today, but, um, um, shall we forget about that?”

“If I said that, Chance would definitely get angry. That was our conclusion today, right? Looking back is certainly necessary, but having hope isn’t a sin…”

I gave Mila the chance to contradict her own words. Having fulfilled her mission, she could now think much more freely.

“Sometimes hope is necessary, but it’s also necessary to leave things in the past. You’re a great compromiser, Arthur!”

I ruffled her hair, then neatly arranged it back with my fingers. There was one more thing I needed to say.

“Still, it’s better to keep Foresight. In this high-speed era, there aren’t many people who can naturally speak of hope like Mila. And it helped those people, right?”

Anything that can help corporate war veterans emerge from trauma should be allowed, as long as it’s not addictive or toxic. Mila was someone who did that job excellently.

“Okay! That was really rewarding work. I think I need to change the web page design though… do you think K would help if I asked?”

“If K designs it, something excessively rebellious will come out. You’d be better off asking Eve for help. Taking care of people is Eve’s specialty.”

After loading the few books Mila had gathered into the bike’s cargo compartment, I check an abandoned Chance model artificial brain outside. The internal AI has been completely deleted.

After placing that weathered artificial brain in Prometheus’s body, which had collapsed in the treatment room after running out of power, I arranged the interior a bit more to make it look like Prometheus had shut down on its own.

I had spent the holiday afternoon on unplanned manual labor, but it felt much better than spending it on an unscheduled gunfight. Finally, Mila and I headed to the sleeping quarters.

After a moment of silence for the remains she had been able to retrieve and the researchers who had barely survived after the incident, we took the elevator up to the first basement floor.

Before leaving the elevator, Mila pulled out the elevator button labeled “Central Hall” with “Home” written over it in human handwriting and put it in her pocket.

She would leave, but home would be with her. We exited through the study-disguised entrance we had come through and got on the bike. We leave the federal government’s military base in the middle of the Mojave.

It took another two and a half hours to return to Los Angeles. Since I would soon have to meet Eve and the cult leader again, I was getting used to wasteland driving. Not just driving.

This would be the last time I could keep my distance from gunfights in the wasteland. I would have to shoot and kill the agents of Hollow Creek. I didn’t intend to feel guilty.

If I were killing people who knew how to think for themselves and work for themselves, I couldn’t say there were no personal feelings, but Hollow Creek’s brainwashed followers didn’t know how to act for themselves.

There’s enough reason to despise those who just sit there repeating that they have no choice. Slaves obey, machines produce, and humans enjoy. What doesn’t enjoy isn’t even human.

Calming my hatred, I dropped Mila off in front of the office. Los Angeles was sparkling in colors no different from before we left the city. Very ordinary.

The Serena Vanderbilt series was still popular, unaware that the fire of the old era had almost spread, and they were selling a compilation of all of Gardner’s episodes. Not just that.

Nature & Nature was still criticizing Farmers Co. with trivial matters and boasting about the number of mutants Bellwether’s counter-terrorism department had captured. No one knew what had happened.

Perhaps what I gained, apart from the burden, was not nothing, but the fact that this city, indifferent to people, could remain indifferent for one more day. I decided to think of it that way.

After exchanging trivial chat with Tina, I returned home and sent another communication request to the nationalist agent who had contacted me. The communication was accepted shortly. I spoke like last time.

“Ah, sorry for the sudden call. Even though the federal government is preparing better for the future than Bellwether… I’m a mercenary who has lived seeing and feeling Bellwether’s power until now.”

When I put a slight emphasis on the part about preparations, she listened carefully. Only a short voice and a loud heartbeat could be heard.

“What do you, no, please continue. I’m listening.”

“I’m also a person raised by Bellwether, which is obsessed with efficiency. The nationalists are trying with all their might to neutralize those reckless people who gave me life. You know that, right?”

At the emphasis on the word “neutralize,” she took a deep breath. She made a sound like she was consciously holding back her words. ‘Rejoice only in your heart. You know that?’ I said only in my mind.

“Even though some people just want the world to be engulfed in flames, the Bellwether I know isn’t like that. Such people soon get a ‘discarded’ label on their identity information. I thought I should tell you.”

“This is very, um, sudden… but, sigh, yes. Even Bellwether wouldn’t spread only bad things in the world. Perhaps I should be satisfied with finding someone I can talk openly with.”

I briefly showed her a scene I had recorded while making it look like Prometheus was destroyed—me smashing a Chance model artificial brain with my hands—then removed it from the communication channel. It was evidence.

“Maybe so. I hope we can talk again sometime. Well… have a good evening. It’s my day off.”

“I look forward to it as well. Have a good evening too, Arthur. It’s a workday for me. Goodbye.”

She hung up the phone dryly, but the edge of her voice was trembling with relief. It seems it was too much to hide until the end.