Ch.50Work Record 010 – Routine Corporate Dispute (1)

The holiday where I learned too much passed by all too quickly. No, perhaps it didn’t pass that quickly after all. Sleeping alone in the duty room on Thursday night was just awkward.

Once again, I couldn’t fall asleep until dawn, barely managing to drift off, yet I still woke up at 7:30 AM—my old reporting time from the Belvedere days. At least I’d brought along some semblance of a regular sleep schedule.

Today, too, I check the sky outside the window. The sky was blue. Twenty-two degrees on a morning in the third week of November. It seemed the heat had prevented the fog from forming and creating smog, sending it away instead.

At least abnormal heat is better than smog. The heat is filtered out by the homeostasis maintenance system of the Posthuman Type IV anyway. After a light stretch, I prepared for the workday.

By the time I finish washing up, I run into the boss. Usually dressed in a bulletproof coat to protect her skin from smog, today she was wearing something lighter.

“Good morning. On days like this, I envy artificial body users like you, Arthur. Even Type I had some homeostasis regulation functions, right?”

The Posthuman series was essentially an undergarment concept. It was designed to provide everyday assistance beneath proper enhancement suits or combat uniforms, and even the early Type I was more than adequate in those areas.

“It only had homeostasis regulation and reinforced equilibrium organs, but it still sold like crazy. Would you like to change into one?”

That’s why when talking about artificial bodies, people used the word “wear.” Just as one can’t wear the same clothes forever, there was no rule saying people had to live forever in the body they were born with. That’s the weight of it.

“I think about it sometimes. As a Belvedere retiree, I could get the Type II procedure, and I wonder how much money would be left if I got the procedure and had all new implants installed. Is it rude to call it luck?”

She gestured toward my body as she spoke. Having a Posthuman Type IV without even a serial number was undeniable luck by anyone’s standards, so I lightly shook my head.

“For Belvedere to officially outfit someone with a Type IV, they’d need to be at least in their mid-thirties and a well-worn security team member, so I do envy your luck, wearing one at your age.”

“Still, you know how inconvenient it is to live without a single implant. I’m enduring it because of my position as an Offliner, but… I desperately need a computational assistance device.”

She made an empty gesture, pretending to manipulate a UI in the air. The boss slowly let out a laugh, then pulled out something like a black-colored neck warmer from her bag and handed it to me.

“I understand your ambition, but I think it would be better if you continued your work as an Offliner for now. A fully adjusted Type IV Posthuman is meant for full-scale warfare, but we’re more focused on raids rather than all-out war.”

With implants fully installed, I’d be ready for the front lines of corporate warfare immediately. It’s excessive performance and cost for what a night guard needs. Boss Yoon continued.

“Still, after a few months, once your work efficiency is clearly proven, we’ll consult with mercenary workforce company specialists to get a list of implants suitable for you, Arthur. Keeping you in a pure human state would be a waste of ability, talent, and efficiency. Don’t you agree?”

A few months. Not a timeframe that feels particularly long. Perhaps until now, I thought everything would end once I caught the bioengineered monstrosity that killed me? Despite this sudden thought, I nodded.

“There’s no need to rush. Being an Offliner is more efficient in quite a few situations. As a Belvedere partner company, we should prioritize efficiency. Ah, what’s this…?”

Changing the subject, I held up the elastic, artificial muscle-like neck warmer I’d been absentmindedly holding. A confident smile came in response.

“Ah, right. This is the voice modulation module I promised you. You can connect it instead of using a neck microphone. It records your voice from a distance where it can be heard clearly, analyzes the pattern, and then takes about seventeen seconds to change your voice to match the recorded sound. The performance when using it with the vocal cord detection microphone should be better than the previous one.”

It seemed to be a device that directly adjusts vocal cord vibrations to change the voice. Its performance would be cruder than a voice synthesis program, but it would be much less detectable and much simpler to use.

With nothing more to explain, Boss Yoon extended her hand as if telling me to try it, then lightly placed her hand on her ear. It seemed someone was looking for night guards right after the holiday ended. I didn’t bother eavesdropping on the conversation.

A moment later, Boss Yoon removed her hand from her ear and called the employees before she began speaking. While others would hear it through communications, she spoke directly so I could hear her words.

“We’ve received a request from Farmers Co.’s Wasteland Reclamation Research Institute. They want to select several genetically modified plant species that can adapt to the wasteland and conduct actual field research, and they’ve requested Night Guard for escort. Everyone please arm yourselves and assemble at the company by 9 AM. We might encounter mercenaries from other megacorporation partners, so make sure you’re well-armed.”

Farmers Co. was the company that occasionally attempted to clear away smog by precipitating it, even on days when the weather wasn’t stifling, and they also produced nearly 98% of the crops in North America.

Not 98% of pseudo-crops. Farmers Co. was the one and only company that produced real food ingredients by building massive hydroponic towers in the middle of major cities. I momentarily suppress the feeling of my mouth watering.

Naturally, Farmers was also interested in wasteland regeneration. If they could make use of the wastelands—polluted beyond what the word “pollution” could adequately describe—Farmers Co.’s production efficiency would literally skyrocket.

The problem is that not every company wants the wastelands restored. Boss Yoon’s explanation continued. I decided to listen as if it were a briefing.

“The company currently in conflict with Farmers Co. is N Entertainment. Nature and Nature—nature and instinct, it seems. They’re famous for memory injection and virtual reality tourism programs that let people experience nature from the pre-war era, and they fear losing their market share if Farmers Co. leads wasteland restoration. So, we’ll likely encounter mercenaries affiliated with them today.”

Entertainment megacorporations generally named themselves with a single letter of the alphabet. They had killed and been killed so repeatedly, and gone through so many mergers and separations, that even their identities had disappeared.

I used to enjoy watching broadcasts from G Entertainment—Ring and Glory—which had legitimized underground fighting arenas where participants actually killed each other.

Just a trivial juvenile transgression. Boys that age all loved G Entertainment’s broadcasts. Those not in security teams often continued enjoying them longer.

I stopped watching G Entertainment broadcasts after receiving education at the security team training university where I witnessed autopsies of dead terrorists and security team members with my own eyes.

Spilling blood just for ratings seemed… strange to me. That was all. I refocus on the briefing.

“Being an entertainment corporation, the quality of their mercenaries will be good, but unless they want to starve to death by engaging in corporate warfare with Farmers Co., they’ll likely send just enough mercenaries to kill one or two people as a threat. Our job is to prevent those one or two people from dying. Any casualties beyond one is too many. Understood?”

It was obvious that everyone would be confirming over the communication system. I was no exception.

All employees had assembled by 8:36 AM. Despite wearing black uniforms in this hot weather, the Posthuman Type IV’s homeostasis maintenance system was working perfectly. I felt neither heat nor cold.

Volla removed her facial armor, revealing the only human-like part of her face, and outputted her voice. She had replaced her vocal cords long ago.

“We still don’t know the exact numbers? I thought Farmers would at least get support from their security team, even if they’re not Belvedere or Fitts & Morrison.”

Boss Yoon nodded briefly. Unless it was a military contractor, companies typically focused their resources on headquarters security teams, and Farmers Co. was no exception.

“A non-military company doesn’t station many security team personnel at branch offices. Farmers Co.’s LA branch somewhat outsources to Belvedere’s security team, and Belvedere and Farmers haven’t contracted for protection services in the wasteland. Of course, N Entertainment won’t want this to escalate to corporate warfare either, so they won’t send many mercenaries.”

“Understood. We should depart, meet the client, and proceed directly to strategy meeting.”

“Let’s do that. Everyone board the vehicle. Working with Farmers means we’ll at least get a box of ingredients for Christmas. Not bad for a side benefit.”

We all boarded the van, and once again my seat was in the front passenger side. Sitting next to Tina, I watched life spark in her eyes despite her perpetually drawling manner of speech.

After the van departed, it didn’t take long to reach the same office building where I had watched Jaina’s campaign with Eve. After parking the van, we headed into Farmers Co.’s branch office building.

The lobby featured garden beds growing real plants, not holograms, and a massive tree that was practically Farmers Co.’s symbol. The giant tree had deep roots extending into a sphere filled with liquid.

The trunk area was fixed, floating in midair. The lobby was filled with the scent of forest, and the lush leaves were vibrant, but there wasn’t a speck of soil. They had perfectly hydroponically grown a giant tree and displayed it in the lobby.

After scanning Boss Yoon at the reception desk, a man in a suit soon walked out from inside the building. He was large but didn’t seem to have an artificial body, evidenced by his forward head posture.

With deep bronze skin, red-dyed hair, and normal human eyes, he might even be a pure human. Or perhaps he just had a computational assistance device implanted in his head.

He offered handshakes to each of us, starting with Boss Yoon, and handed out business cards. He spoke with a somewhat slow but friendly voice.

“I’m Pavlidi Leon, general researcher at Farmers Co.’s Wasteland Restoration Research Institute. Thank you so much for taking on escort duty today! Please call me PD for short, and let’s go for the briefing. Ah, regarding plants…”

Boss Yoon shook her head cleanly. Already in work mode, her tone was rigid, which seemed somewhat unfamiliar to PD. He seemed like someone who had only worked at the Los Angeles branch.

“You don’t need to brief us on plant-related matters. The genetically modified plants are Farmers’ responsibility, and escort is ours.”

“Ah, um. Right. You were asked to provide escort, not guarantee success… So, what information should I explain?”

Following him past the gate and through a long corridor inside the building, we reached a glass dome. Various unidentifiable plants were growing in soil that smelled of the wasteland.

I glanced around briefly, but I was completely ignorant about plants. They all looked like weeds to me, yet each was being carefully tended by researchers.

“Please tell us the number of researchers who will accompany us to the wasteland, and what equipment or support we can receive from Farmers Co.’s security team.”

PD awkwardly extended his fingers, clasped his hands together, and tapped them lightly before speaking.

“Originally we planned to go with four people, but I was told a minimum number would be better for effective protection, so we decided on just me and my two assistants. Though they’re assistants, they’re actually university students doing internships. And the security team said they would provide bulletproof vests, helmets, and first aid kits. We haven’t even received basic firearms training…”

He was an ordinary employee-citizen. Employee-citizens must be protected. That’s why security teams shed blood. Life is more efficient than death. I steeled my resolve.

Boss Yoon nodded after extracting only the necessary information.

“We appreciate the minimized personnel. We need to proceed cautiously since we don’t know how many mercenaries N Entertainment has hired. Does the experiment involve just planting and returning?”

“Ah, yes! That’s right. They might attack researchers by mistake, but the experimental samples are Farmers Co.’s long-cherished project. Even N Entertainment folks won’t touch them.”

Farmers Co. supplied both the wheat flour for premium bread and the soy starch for ordinary bread. They provided real meat, cultured meat, and soy protein simultaneously.

This meant that messing with Farmers Co. could result in everyone from executives to entry-level employees starving simultaneously. Most megacorporations can be somewhat self-sufficient, but not for long.

Even the stupidest mercenaries wouldn’t interfere with such a company’s cherished project. A moment later, he returned with several plant samples. I could only identify one of them.

I couldn’t recognize the shapes, but one plant smelled like mint. Probably from the mint family. PD pointed to the plant samples sequentially and explained.

“These are all species with excellent self-sustainability. However, their vitality is so strong that if planted too close together, they would hinder each other’s growth. We’ll plant them at sufficient distances from each other, so it will take a bit longer.”

Longer time was the worst news for an escort mission, but as the boss said, plant decisions were Farmers’ domain. Night Guard just needed to perform their duties effectively in the given situation.

He pulled up a holographic map showing the locations chosen for planting. The boss visually calculated positions that could cover all points simultaneously and lightly touched one spot.

“We’ll set up the sniper position here, and I’ll handle sniper support and command with cover from Rifle 1. Volla and the Offliner will be responsible for directly guarding the researchers. Volla, focus on protecting the researchers with armor plates, and the Offliner will aim to eliminate attacking mercenaries. Due to the workload intensity, there will be a 20% increase in the life allowance. Any objections?”

“None,” came the unified response. PD was looking at us with somewhat impressed eyes, and today was just like any other Friday. Except for the absence of smog.