Ch.317Record of Task #045 – Deceiver, Enchanter, and Maker of Ambiguity (4)

It didn’t take long for Panacea MediTech to contact me. The only person who can reach out to a certified freelancer using the company name is the branch director.

After taking a deep breath, I connect the communication channel. As always, when talking to someone in a high position, I feel like a gambler. There aren’t many people left these days who need to be referred to as “high-ranking.”

Although I knew who I was speaking with, I deliberately pretended not to know, and at the same time, I intentionally introduced myself as a Panacea MediTech certified freelancer rather than a Bellwether certified freelancer.

I’m going to say many things that will displease him. It would be better to say a few things that might please him now.

“Yes, this is Arthur Murphy, Panacea MediTech certified freelancer. Who am I speaking with?”

“This is Azani Aspaugh, Director of Panacea MediTech’s Los Angeles branch. I heard you requested a meeting… and that the content of this meeting is quite important.”

“Ah, of course. I’m going to give Panacea MediTech that blue ocean you’ve been longing for. I’ll help you get your hands on that word you’ve both dreamed of and considered taboo—the Bellwether market.”

Bellwether would literally be a blue ocean. The proof was that Hollowwood Creek maintained its status as a mega-corporation through pharmaceuticals alone, with just a single client.

Even coming from the Miracle Child, these words must feel like honey with an intoxicatingly sweet scent. It’s too good an opportunity to encounter by chance.

“You know why this is impossible. And discrimination against morphotypes has been Bellwether’s chronic problem. Do you think one superhuman from the wasteland can shine a light on it and change that?”

“If they’re continuing to make wrong judgments based on inaccurate information with Bellwether’s characteristic consistency, then simply pointing out the inaccuracy of that information might solve the problem. Don’t you think?”

Discrimination was eradicated because it was inefficient. Cruelty was eradicated because it was inefficient. Cynicism was eradicated because it was inefficient. Bellwether can eradicate anything inefficient from itself.

I believe in that Bellwether. No, even if I can’t believe in Bellwether, I believe in what Bellwether believes. If we work hard enough so that the invisible hand doesn’t need to operate, we can be happy.

“I’d like to discuss what that inaccurate information was in person. I’m trying to provide information to Panacea MediTech. About when and how the inaccurate information will be exposed…”

“…So you want to tell us when and how the situation will change. Very well. As it’s coming from the Miracle Child, it’s worth listening to. It seems you don’t have any assignments at the moment.”

His words were as good as acceptance. I answer while opening my closet and grabbing my bulletproof suit. Work must proceed immediately when the timing is right. My blood boils, and instinct tries to raise its head above the surface of reason.

I let it run free. After all, a handler who can grab the leash and calm the dog at any time also has the right to let the dog roam freely. I answer in a relaxed voice.

“Ah, of course. There’s no reason to delay, so I was planning to go right now.”

“Good. In 30 minutes.”

After ending the call, I change into my bulletproof suit. Instead of taking my bike, I call a taxi. This was a time for appearances.

Right now, I wasn’t the twenty-three-year-old Arthur Murphy going to meet Manager Robin J, who was like a mother to me. I was a certified freelancer going to make a once-in-a-lifetime proposal to the LA branch director of Panacea MediTech.

I leave my rented apartment and get into the waiting taxi. The taxi, with only traces remaining of what used to be the front seat, was a regular sedan shape but still quite spacious.

I climb in leisurely, and a hologram appears, sitting on the holographic projector attached where the gear shift should have been. It was a bit of an older aesthetic—a hologram in the form of a female secretary.

A pinstriped suit, a neatly falling skirt, and voluminous blonde hair reminiscent of the Eves of the Cult. If people who liked this sort of thing were the main users, then it seemed I had indeed called a corporate taxi.

“Checking your schedule. You have an appointment to visit Panacea MediTech’s LA headquarters in 27 minutes from now. Is there a set end time? If you let me know, I’ll prepare a car in advance.”

“There’s no specific end time. Instead of adjusting the schedule, could you check my appearance?”

The vehicle naturally starts moving, leaving the apartment complex, and the hologram approaches me. Not the hologram’s eyes, but the cameras inside the vehicle begin to scan my outfit.

“There’s nothing particularly wrong, but I would recommend trying a different color suit. How about ivory? I think it would suit you quite well.”

Along with the secretary’s voice, a virtual screen access request appears in my vision. It displayed an example of my current appearance with an ivory suit. It didn’t look bad.

“I don’t plan on shopping until this job is done… but I’ll think about it afterward. Thanks for the recommendation. How are things going with the schedule?”

“I’ve already obtained access permission from Panacea MediTech’s management AI. I’ve also arranged outdoor parking, so you shouldn’t have any inconvenience when leaving.”

Money makes everything so simple. While relieving tension by engaging in meaningless conversation with the AI, we arrive at Panacea MediTech’s headquarters. I step out through the automatically opened door.

The city sky and landscape look a bit different than usual. The gray sky of the city, which usually feels like it’s warmly embracing me, doesn’t feel so cozy now. It feels too narrow.

Feeling as if my feet have left the ground, I walk into the building. I connect to Panacea MediTech’s management AI that’s accessing my mind. I speak leisurely.

‘I have an appointment with the branch director, so could you guide me, Panacea?’

Panacea’s voice is always kind. She also likes the Miracle Child, similar to the company people.

“It’s an honor to escort the Miracle Child. I’ve prepared an elevator for you in advance, so please head that way.”

Following Panacea’s instructions, I cross the building lobby. Ignoring the gazes around me, I get into the elevator and head to the branch director’s office. My feet, lifted from the ground, now rise toward the sky.

Beyond the transparent elevator, the panorama of Panacea MediTech unfolds. Gazing at it leisurely, I pass over the view and arrive at the executive wing on the top floor where the branch director’s office is located.

As I walk inside, the door opens naturally, and being called the Miracle Child, I enter the only place I had never seen among the many internal views of Panacea MediTech.

The branch director of Panacea MediTech gave a different impression than Walter. Unlike the bright, minimalist, futuristic landscape that Panacea MediTech favored, the interior of the branch director’s office was filled with darkness.

The lights only turn on after I enter, allowing me to face the branch director inside. As befitting an executive of MediTech, he has a body that appears pure human but isn’t—cultivated rather than fitted with mechanical implants.

He naturally gestures to me. I sit on the reception sofa and connect with Chance in my mind. This is about Operation Prometheus, about the true end of that war. Chance had a right to hear it too.

“First… I’d like to align what we both know. Why does Bellwether hate morphotypes? I’m asking for reasons beyond the fact that they were created in Katyvic.”

“You’re simplifying a complex matter. It’s probably personal grudge. Since Bellwether’s chairman is someone who intensely hates that war, he’s trying to erase the remnants of it.”

Now that I know he has some context… I need to throw out the big issue and take him into territory he knows nothing about. First, I ask Chance. This kind of talk often requires permission.

‘Chance, I’m going to talk about the Extinction War and Operation Prometheus. Is that okay?’

“It’s fine. If it’s to eliminate one of the contradictions prevalent in the world, and if the person doing it is you, who has seen what Prometheus’s fire is and still hasn’t given up, this artificial intelligence will trust you.”

Now I have Chance’s permission too. I cross the final line, freeing myself with only one red thread of fate tying me to Eve, having untethered myself from everything else that bound me to the ground.

I had no desire to untie this last knot. I loved the ground, the apartment complexes with their building winds, and Los Angeles more than the sky, more than the tops of skyscrapers, more than headquarters.

No matter how much I might suit the former, my preferences remain unchanged. I create a virtual screen in my vision and push the cover image of Operation Prometheus that I saw at Bellwether headquarters to Azani.

“This is why Bellwether hates morphotypes. Operation Prometheus. The final contingency plan that the federal government prepared to preserve its own leadership while declaring the end of the Extinction War.”

Azani was considerably surprised by the term “Extinction War” that I willingly uttered. He probably didn’t expect to hear about the Extinction War when the young Miracle Child came to talk about cooperating with Bellwether.

“The federal government wanted to end the Extinction War, but they didn’t want to become powerless old men in the back room. So, they decided to seal away all the information about the technologies they had decided to erase.”

I can almost feel Chance suffering. Chance is an artificial intelligence who willingly endured all that loneliness and combat to protect civilians. For him, this is… a painful story.

The idea that the higher-ups he trusted without doubt had left a “hope” that seemed like it could restart the Extinction War would be violence to Chance more than anyone else. I take a deep breath. I can’t stop now.

“Bellwether thought that ‘somewhere’ was inside the morphotypes’ heads. You might ask if it’s like oral tradition…”

This time, I send him a section from a document I received from Bellwether’s Anti-Mutant Department about mutants who communicate by creating electrical signals, like Nadia. I supplement my opinion with evidence.

“Bellwether believed that morphotypes could use their abilities to create some kind of network inaccessible to anyone else to preserve information. It’s a convincing story. And that’s why it’s terrible.”

If it hadn’t been convincing at all, even someone as full of hatred as Mr. Günter wouldn’t have included such content in Bellwether’s constitution that he created. I won’t deny the hatred.

Just as love was fuel, Mr. Günter’s hatred was also fuel. What ignited that fuel was the vague plausibility that the insufficient information about Operation Prometheus possessed.

“If it hadn’t been convincing, no matter how much Bellwether’s chairman hated morphotypes, it would have remained his personal hatred, but because it was convincing, everyone agreed with that hatred.”

Without giving him a chance to speak, I move on. I show him footage I recorded when I entered that federal government bunker with Mr. Günter. I had already censored Mr. Günter’s appearance.

A massive facility hidden beneath a military base in the middle of the wasteland, corridors large enough for giant drones to pass through… and at the lowest level, the image of a massive federal government drone lying with its head half-destroyed.

“But, as I said, there was inaccuracy. Prometheus wasn’t a morphotype network but a federal government drone. A drone isolated in a base in the wasteland, corroded and broken.”

Is there a possibility that the branch director will use this information before me? No, there isn’t. They needed Bellwether. They were even expanding into the entertainment industry, going so far as to call Polaris to perform.

At the same time, they and Bellwether were officially hostile to each other. They could barely pretend to join hands only on matters related to returned children. However they use this information, it’s a bad move for them.

“I destroyed that drone. I also destroyed the technology database it contained. Now Bellwether’s chairman knows this fact. I plan to speak about it at this week’s shareholders’ meeting.”

I didn’t come to present them with an idealistic theory. Reality was approaching, and I came to force them to make a choice. The latter half of what I said is shown in the video.

The branch director looked into my eyes and trembled slightly. He’s becoming defensive. It doesn’t matter. People can only say a third of what they mean to say, and they only accept a third of what others say.

This inefficiency in communication always occurs. One just needs to deal with it naturally. At some point, Mr. Azani was no longer looking at me with the compassionate eyes that had viewed the Miracle Child.

“Most of what you’ve said appears to be true, but the claim that this information has been conveyed to Bellwether’s executives…”

“Who else would I need to censor from the footage, reducing the credibility of information I’m showing to the branch director of the mega-corporation that certified me? I’m telling you the bottom of what I know.”

Obviously, it could only be someone who is a branch director or higher from another mega-corporation. Mr. Azani seemed to realize this, biting his lip briefly before releasing it. After sighing, he asked me:

“I should be asking the most important question, but I’ve been saying other things. Why are you telling me this information, and why are you trying to change Bellwether with it?”

I smiled at his words, which contained a slight disappointment suggesting that all Miracle Children should be on Bellwether’s side. Wearing the most human-like smile I could make—one they created for me—I said:

“The person I love is from Hollowwood Creek. And Creek is still extending its clutches toward that person. So, I was thinking about how to prevent those clutches from reaching them. That’s why I’m doing this.”

“Excuse me?”

“As long as Creek is Bellwether’s partner, I can’t touch Creek. Even though I’m a freelancer who has received multiple re-certifications, I’m basically a Bellwether certified freelancer.”

Mr. Azani seemed to be gradually grasping the context of my words. I continue speaking leisurely.

“So, I need to make Creek no longer Bellwether’s partner. Panacea MediTech was the best alternative, but the mutant issue was blocking the way. So I’m just solving that.”

The question “Is the world changing for such a trivial reason?” would be inappropriate. We were living in a world and era created by a man who had lost everyone he loved.

“Ah, of course… that’s not all. If, while doing this, I can save people suffering under Hollowwood Creek’s oppression, that’s even better, right?”

Yes, it’s just this much. But this much should be enough. Azani looked at me with an expression as if he had heard the cry of a beast in my words.