Ch.198030th Work Record – Superior Human Party (3)

The preparations inside the party venue didn’t take long. As Sophie had said, after about ten minutes, the unmanned scanner activated. When Pathfinder executives passed through, there were no issues.

True to their nature of hiding neither their names nor identities, their names appeared on the screen just like everyone else’s. Watching this, I walked in, only to be greeted by that irritating warning sound.

Two members of Pathfinder’s chairman’s security team approached me as I stood before the scanner. After receiving information from the drones about what went wrong, they cleared their throats and said:

“If there are information restrictions, we’d appreciate if you could lift them. Right now, all the scanner shows is…”

The virtual screen they handed me showed that virtually all my information was censored except that I was Arthur Murphy, a twenty-three-year-old freelancer.

“Ah. I don’t have an augmented body serial number. Because… it’s classified information. And my modification history doesn’t show up either. That’s also classified.”

I hadn’t wanted this, but I’d grown accustomed to it—and to politely saying, “Please don’t ask me about information you can’t access.”

“Still, just looking at the facts rather than history, I’m wearing a Posthuman Type IV, so I’m at least 98% modified. And if you look at the scanner…”

The metal detector was already showing my tendons, replaced with metal coils, and various reinforcements throughout my body. I stood still so they could see it clearly.

“It’s not over a hundred percent, at least? One way or another, things got complicated, so I had to let you verify manually. Sorry for the delay.”

This handling seemed quite smooth. The two security team members examined the scanner screen and nodded briefly.

“No need to apologize. You could have just snapped that it’s classified information, but you explained and let us verify, so we appreciate it. Please go in.”

After a brief mutual nod, I headed into the party venue. Sophie, who had been waiting inside, nodded emphatically as if she was quite impressed. The smile rising to my lips felt quite natural.

“I thought all freelancers were either twisted in character or cynical about everything… basically lacking manners, but you just cleanly shattered my preconceptions, Boogeyman.”

“Nobody gets a freelancer license for free or by chance. If anything, it would be strange if someone who went through what it takes to earn a freelancer license seemed too natural.”

“Don’t scare me, Boogeyman. Looking at it another way, doesn’t it mean you’re trying to be a good person despite going through what it takes to earn a freelancer license? I’ll give you points for that.”

She’s a good person. Different from Polaris. Actually, amusingly enough, when meeting these corporate justice tyrants one-on-one, person to person, they weren’t that bad most of the time.

It was easy to imagine them as pot-bellied capitalists in top hats, but harder to imagine that they had the leisure that comes from being wealthy enough to never need to desperately cling to trivialities.

They all had confidence because their futures were secure. Those gathered around them were all elites who had lived in that wealth, so they couldn’t help but be cultured and untroubled.

Because of that ease and brightness, standing before them made one’s own shabbiness apparent, like a shadow lengthening in front of light. Perhaps this was their most terrible aspect.

The fact that they could make you forget they were both good people and the tyrants of this high-speed era, hereditary corporate nobility—that was definitely their most terrible aspect.

Since not everyone can be born as children of mega-corporations, perhaps the more realistic approach is to make good use of these good people. One doesn’t possess the flower garden.

“I didn’t know people like you, Sophie, were still born after that war. I imagine you hear that a lot.”

She covered her mouth with her hand and giggled again. I could see the wariness growing in the eyes of the security guard standing behind her. We seemed to be getting friendly too quickly.

“I hear it all the time! But, coming from someone whose information is so heavily censored, it’s hard to believe we’re similar in age. Of course I’m joking, but maybe…”

“Yes, yes. I’m a 60-year-old special operations veteran from Bellwether who successfully completed a mega-corporation’s secret mission six months ago that I can’t tell anyone about, and received a new life as a reward. I even listen to 70s old rock.”

I knew what was coming, so I answered with a light joke. As if it were a mischievous remark, Sophie tried to push my shoulder with her fingertip but was blocked by my shock-absorbing skin, making her expression sour.

It didn’t last long. She was someone who suited smiles better than sourness, and her expression quickly returned from sour to smiling. Conversations with good people feel this warm.

“You must have heard that many times. That’s why you have such a well-prepared answer ready. Right? If it weren’t a joke, I’d be acting this way with someone old enough to be my father…”

“Fortunately, it is a joke. If we’re talking about father figures…”

Sophie must have been the youngest daughter. Paul Lippmann, the chairman, approached, either wary or interested that his youngest child was chatting with a freelancer.

He extended his hand to me first for a handshake, and I grasped his casually offered hand and shook it lightly. Though he was a small-built old man, his grip seemed remarkably strong. Clearly just my imagination.

“About my age, I suppose. I’m Paul Lippmann, chairman of Pathfinder Logistics. As you know, I find paths and build bridges to walk those paths. I’m curious what you’re doing.”

That was Pathfinder’s company motto. It’s not uncommon for it to come from the chairman’s speech habits. It took only a natural half-second pause to choose my words in response to his question.

“I’m trying to keep the people around me from being unhappy, and now I’m studying how to make them happy. I’m also working on building myself up to a level where I can accomplish such things.”

“Ah. I see. So meeting Pathfinder Logistics executives… my family, that is… is also part of building yourself up? Making a good impression, creating connections.”

He was a sharper, more fastidious old man than Sophie Lippmann. His gaze scrutinized me up and down. Perhaps his affable, self-revealing demeanor was for the company’s sake.

“There are limits to what you can ask from connections or relationships where no debt is owed. Instead, I came to observe a pathfinder who’s ahead. I was curious how mega-corporations build themselves up.”

“Pathfinder… you speak well. Level, you say. What level do you think you’re at? You need to be aware of your situation to see room for improvement. Tell me.”

“I’m experiencing a comprehensive lack of ability. Even Bellwether, who hired me, still compares me with other freelancers and considers them when hiring.”

There was no reason to say my goal was to bring down mega-corporations. Chairman Paul Lippmann wiggled his white eyebrows as if intrigued and continued.

“A comprehensive lack of ability. What a sweet phrase. Lacking everything means you can move forward no matter what you do. So there’s room for improvement. You won’t tell me your purpose?”

“At Bellwether, they say not to draw the last mark on the speedometer. If I had to state a purpose, it’s just to overcome obstacles as I encounter them. To reach somewhere better than here.”

Chairman Paul Lippmann stroked his clean, beardless chin. Not much time had passed since he chose to maintain a cleanly shaved chin for a younger impression rather than growing a beard to look more elderly.

The gimmicks of the Gardner role I played were laughable. All those gimmicks only had meaning on screen, but in reality, they have meaning everywhere visible. I wouldn’t call it mimicry.

“Abstract yet concrete. Not bad. Very… not bad. At superior human parties, one always meets people with ambition like this.”

He finally relaxed his expression a bit and continued. He seems to be similar in nature to Sophie Lippmann. A breakwater inevitably wears down from the waves.

“Still, not son-in-law material.”

“Ah, I already have a partner… someone I’d be reluctant to give up for a position as son-in-law in a corporate noble family.”

I swallowed the words: I’d rather give up mega-corporations for that person. Chairman Paul Lippmann made a somewhat exaggerated gesture of relief.

“Your partner must have a hard time.”

“You speak as if you’ve given your wife quite a hard time.”

Chairman Paul Lippmann burst into laughter, his shoulders shaking at my natural retort. He nodded.

“An unexpected response. Yes. Anyone who can build what’s called a mega-corporation must be able to make at least a few people love and be loyal to them at first meeting.”

I was thinking of Günter’s charisma. I remembered how he could make a wandering shepherd find his path and reignite extinguished flames. I didn’t envy it.

It was merely the image of one of the most powerful tyrants of this era. Yet I wanted to emulate it. Such ability was necessary to bring down Hallowed Creek.

Chairman Paul Lippmann stared at my face for a moment. I hadn’t expected a hateful name to emerge. I wasn’t startled. I decided to appear natural.

“You’re thinking of Chairman John Rutherford.”

It was the name of Hallowed Creek’s cult leader. I didn’t find it unpleasant. Hallowed Creek could appear that way. Still, I countered leisurely.

“I was thinking of Pastor Bill Weaver.”

“Wasn’t he a foolish fellow?”

“He was a weak person.”

It was his weakness and his sin that he brought in a cult leader to lighten his immediate burden, not knowing who might usurp what he had shouldered. But he wasn’t foolish.

Creating a place for desperate people to lean on and making it flourish despite all the pressure isn’t something a foolish person could do.

“How are foolishness and weakness different? They both lead to failure in the end.”

“Strength is easier to obtain than wisdom. A foolish person shuns help from the wise, but a weak person doesn’t refuse help from the strong.”

“Isn’t that exactly why Pastor Bill Weaver brought in Chairman John Rutherford, who was strong but full of malice? I’m starting to see the purpose you’ve been generalizing.”

“I’m trying to live as a person who is both good and strong. My tastes are quite childish. I can’t bear to see the people around me get hurt, and I hope for happy endings even when everything goes wrong.”

Chairman Paul Lippmann burst into laughter again. Not because it was unexpected like before. It was the expression of seeing something for the first time. The face of someone seeing something not too bad for the first time.

“No, no. You don’t ‘can’t bear to see’ or ‘hope for’ anything. You’re the type who would shoot dead anyone who tries to hurt the people around you, and who would forcibly drag in a happy ending.”

I wasn’t sure if that was truly good. I might simply be a person with deep vengeance and self-righteousness. I doubted myself as much as I believed in myself. My self-trust was strong enough to enjoy doubt.

Still smiling, he shed his appearance of a somewhat diminutive old man and looked at me with vibrant purple eyes flowing with vitality. He spoke as an equal.

“How does Bellwether always find and certify such freelancers first? I’m incredibly envious. Have you thought about starting your own company?”

“Is there a more tactful way to say ‘don’t go into business’ than making me propose a stupid business idea?”

“There’s no need to be tactful. It was a good meeting. Today’s party will be quite enjoyable. This is why I like superior human parties.”

This party was aristocratic. Not simply because many corporate nobles attended, but because it was filled with people like Chairman Paul Lippmann and Sophie—it was an aristocratic space.

If nothing else, I needed to learn this dignity. If I already possessed it, I would need to refine it, but it might be better to assume I didn’t have it and learn from the ground up. Everything is an opportunity.

Soon people began entering the party venue. The Shepherd appeared ceremonially, and even Talos squeezed his massive body through the scanner and walked in. It was somewhat amusing.

While waiting for the Panacea Meditech people, I glanced at someone entering through the scanner who appeared to be a pure human, with almost no mechanical implants.

Must be someone from Panacea Meditech. Though I deliberately stood by the entrance, I didn’t make any effort to acknowledge them. I didn’t need to.

As she headed into the party venue, greeting various people, she glanced in my direction. After confirming my face… she approached me and extended her hand.

She was a woman with black hair. Her naturally wavy hair flowing down her shoulders was quite beautiful, and a warm fragrance emanated from her.

Though her impression wasn’t particularly warm, the expression she wore in front of me seemed overwhelmed, confirming she was indeed from Panacea Meditech.

“I was just attending ceremonially, but to see one of the miracle children standing in the party venue. And…”

A moment of silence followed. She must have realized which company had certified me first. She naturally steered the conversation in a direction that wouldn’t become uncomfortable.

“A freelancer certified even by Heroism and Hope. As a fan of the Call Sign Gardner series and the research team leader at Panacea Meditech, you make me happier than anyone else I could meet here.”

Well… she probably wouldn’t realize it, but you’ve also met the lead actor of your favorite series. The chance to see three people overlapping into one at a party is certainly rare.

“I’m also glad to be able to show a Panacea Meditech employee that I’m well-dressed and in an elegant place. I’m certified freelancer Arthur Murphy.”

Normally I would have said “Bellwether” certified freelancer, but I omitted it this time. Mentioning Bellwether in front of her didn’t seem like a good approach.

“Oh, really. It’s no wonder the miracle children are Panacea Meditech’s children. I’m Team Leader Morgan Willard. If you’re okay with it, would you like to look around together?”

Chairman Paul Lippmann’s words about making my partner suffer stung like thorns again. The purpose of meeting Panacea Meditech was to build connections and maintain reputation… so it should be fine. Probably.