Ch.59Work Record 011 – Seizing the Opportunity (4)

Though I felt no drunkenness, I fell asleep leaning on the pretense of it, and morning came. The quality of sleep remained consistent regardless of my mood. As Chance had said, software seems to be bound by hardware.

If there were hardware that didn’t wear down like a Posthuman Type IV, would software eventually stop feeling like throwing oneself onto a marshmallow without support when lying on a soft bed? I couldn’t know.

If I couldn’t know, I needed to run faster. I had to speed up until familiar scenery appeared. Faster and faster until a better future emerged. Even faster. So fast as to be invisible.

If this festering city was created by running so quickly, wouldn’t slowing down also be an answer? I wasn’t sure, but after thinking about it, I checked my phone. There was a notification from the Housing Management Department.

A large green checkmark appeared with the message “You may move in.” Seeing this made me think that perhaps shouting “faster, faster” was the right answer after all. It was almost a joke.

I could leave right away, but I felt I should share the good news, so I contacted Manager Yoon. Did I want congratulations? Maybe. Or it could just be courtesy.

We had all been drinking until dawn yesterday, but Manager Yoon’s voice was definitely awake. Except for one inappropriate deep sigh.

“Sigh… Good morning, Arthur. Has your residence issue been resolved? The Housing Department asked me about you yesterday, so I told them you’re a mercenary who maintains high efficiency in repetitive public service tasks across various fields.”

It seems they didn’t trust credit alone. Since he already knew, I spoke in a comfortable voice without needing lengthy explanations.

“I didn’t know that… Thank you for speaking well of me. It seems to have helped speed things up. Since I only have one box of belongings, I’m planning to wash the sheets from my temporary bed and head over right away.”

“I don’t need to add anything more for you, Arthur. Looking back, it was truly fortunate that Francis introduced you to me. I’ll skip the formal advice—enjoy your day off and see you Friday. Goodbye.”

After responding pleasantly to his crisp words, I got up. I removed the fabric from the temporary bed’s metal frame and headed to the laundry room—where I used to go with Eve—and tossed it into the washing machine.

This was my third visit to the self-service laundry, but it was the first time I actually watched the washing machine run. I found it somewhat amusing when another communication request came in.

The name wasn’t visible. A censored name with Belwether’s sheep logo as the profile picture… probably the Shepherd. He was the only Belwether executive who would care about me directly. I connected the call.

“So, Shepherd Six. I saw you got a place. I’ve left a gift there, so check it out when you arrive. Ah, you can’t use it downtown. If you were the type to fire such things downtown, I wouldn’t have given you that gift. Just calling briefly before work.”

“Ah, yes. Expecting maximum efficiency today as well. Um… damn it. Stop calling me Shepherd Six—I’m not even a Belwether employee anymore.”

The Shepherd burst into laughter and asked in a sharpened voice. A question I still couldn’t answer definitively came through.

“If you really think so, I can watch my words. But do you really?”

“I’m at least trying not to be. Take care.”

The Shepherd ended the call with a laugh. Having one’s inner thoughts read wasn’t particularly pleasant. I could understand a bit more why Eve insisted on hiding her past.

After fitting the washed fabric back onto the temporary bed frame in the duty room and saying goodbye to Tina and Nadia, I left the office carrying my box.

It’s about a five-minute walk from the office. My first apartment being just a five-minute commute away—what luck. I was still wearing my pistol.

If nothing happens, it’s thanks to wearing the pistol; if something does happen, I can handle it because I’m wearing the pistol. With that thought, I entered the apartment complex.

I didn’t think much would have changed, but my belongings had increased more than expected. If I hadn’t left two sets of combat uniforms at the company for changing, I would have had much more stuff.

One carbine, a bundle of two flash grenades, two t-shirts with the Nightwatch logo, and one set of sweatpants. It was now too much to fit in the single box I had brought.

I decided to think positively—my life had become abundant enough that it couldn’t all fit in one box. After notifying the Housing Department that I would arrive soon, I took the elevator to the 10th floor where my apartment was located.

It was fortunate that a unit on a not-too-high floor was available. The 10th floor was low enough that jumping from it wouldn’t be a major problem in an emergency. When I arrived at the door, a drone painted in Belwether colors was already there.

The drone slowly scanned my entire body. It made an error sound, tried again, failed once more, and finally produced audio output.

“Unable to verify serial number. Switching to facial recognition.”

This was the first time I’d experienced inconvenience for being a Posthuman Type IV without a serial number. The drone scanned my smiling face and issued another guidance tone. It extended a metal key hanging from a hook.

“Scan complete. Arthur Murphy, general employee of Nightwatch, the official mercenary contractor for Belwether. Belwether Housing Management Department supports your new home. Your key has been issued.”

The feeling of receiving something I had used as a kid too young for implants, now again after turning twenty, was quite peculiar. After briefly feeling the distinctive weight of non-lightweight processed metal, I used the key to open the door.

My eyes would be replaced eventually so eye recognition wouldn’t work, and using a physical key was better than fingerprint recognition. Copying a fingerprint was much simpler than copying a key.

The interior I entered with the key was… honestly, nothing special. A typical monthly rental with a bedroom, living room, kitchen connected to the living room, and a balcony.

At least the place wasn’t empty. It had an installed washing machine, and though it was a generation older than what Belwether employees used, it even had a bed and desk.

For a place I moved into just two months after having my head cut off, it was excellent. The Shepherd’s gift was prepared in the bedroom. A server computer and a weapon case much thicker than my carbine bag.

The Shepherd had definitely said it was something I couldn’t use downtown. Must be explosives. As I approached with anticipation, a pairing notification appeared on my phone. I connected eagerly and heard a familiar voice.

“Thank you for connecting. Chance, dash, nine-one-three-nine. Connection confirmed. It’s been a while, Agent Arthur Murphy. Please forgive my word choice. This unit is still somewhat ignorant about the current world. However, I have determined that assisting General Employee Arthur Murphy, who operates with the same purpose as this unit, is a worthwhile endeavor.”

Am I allowed to feel such immense joy at hearing from that war-era drone? I wasn’t sure, but there was no reason to hold back my smile. I spoke with a welcoming voice.

“So, you refused retirement?”

“Negative. Belwether Industrial employees offered me retirement. However, the paramilitary commander of Belwether Industrial, known by the callsign Shepherd, also offered me the role of assisting Agent Arthur Murphy. I accepted the latter proposal, and here I am. This was not an arbitrary placement.”

It’s actually the police protecting Beverly Hills who should be called nationalists’ paramilitaries, but Chance, who had fallen out of the nationalists’ era, was instead calling the Shepherd a paramilitary commander.

I bookmarked Chance, whose profile picture showed the nationalists’ flag with sixty stars waving. Now I could comfortably talk to him anytime.

Then, I gently tapped the weapon case placed next to the server computer. I asked leisurely:

“You’re already enough of a gift for me, so what’s this? My guess is it’s some kind of explosive… Since they sent it with you, is it something reverse-engineered from your weapons?”

I unlocked the case as Chance connected to my phone. When I opened it lightly, what was inside was… a rifle. Or more precisely, something that looked like a rifle.

It was too thick to be called a rifle. The barrel diameter was wide enough to easily see inside, and the thick heat sink attached to the side made it look even bulkier.

And the magazine wasn’t for bullets either. Inside the detached magazine were… grenades of a specification I’d never seen before. Chance began to speak:

“Affirmative. This weapon is a 1-inch caliber…”

“You mean… 25mm caliber?”

“1-inch caliber.”

Chance wasn’t a perfect AI. Even the nationalists use the metric system now. After correcting the terminology, Chance continued.

“Resuming. This is a grenade rifle that fires 1-inch caliber self-propelled armor-piercing grenades. While it should technically be prohibited from external distribution, it was given as special compensation considering that Agent Arthur Murphy recovered this unit and brought great productivity to Belwether Industrial. This artificial intelligence will serve as the targeting assistance device.”

Is it really okay to just hand over a reverse-engineered weapon from that war era to a contractor employee? There were many weapons stronger than grenades, but this weapon had the special characteristic of being from that war period.

After removing the magazine and confirming no grenade was loaded, I picked up the grenade rifle. Even with the magazine detached, it was quite heavy. It clearly wasn’t designed for human hands to hold and fire.

As a Posthuman Type IV with strength comparable to enhancement suits, I could probably manage to hold and fire it, but shouldering it seemed impossible. Looking closely, it didn’t even have front or rear sights.

“Belwether Industrial employees determined that with the Posthuman Type IV enhanced body worn by Agent Arthur Murphy, standing fire with this grenade rifle would be possible. This artificial intelligence concurs. While the explosive charge of the grenades has been adjusted to reduce recoil, it can still guarantee definitive destruction against most enhancement suits.”

I leisurely examined the desert-colored grenade rifle, painted the same color as Chance. It used the camouflage pattern from that war era, not the current Belwether pattern.

With both the barrel and body finished with obsessively meticulous detail, it was clearly a Belwether product—like a perfect blend of the best aspects from two different eras.

“At least I won’t have to rely solely on Vola for fire support. Though her role is different since she can fire cluster munitions.”

“Affirmative. Additionally, General Employee Arthur Murphy can receive assistance from the only artificial intelligence with operational experience with this weapon. You may try holding it with the magazine connected. This weapon unlocks according to this artificial intelligence’s judgment. Since our operational purposes are identical, in most situations where Agent Murphy makes a determination, my judgment will follow immediately.”

It meant I could only fire when Chance thought it was right. Our purpose was to protect the citizens of the Greater Los Angeles area. I could only fire when it aligned with that purpose.

Most of the public service work I was receiving involved criminals, gangs, or mercenary companies that had turned criminal, so there shouldn’t be many problems… but it could still be a variable.

It seemed better to talk with Chance a bit more. I picked up the thick magazine containing eight armor-piercing grenades and connected it. It was definitely heavier than before.

Would Belwether really give away so easily to a contractor something they would barely hand over to their assault division? After thinking about the reason briefly, there was only one conclusion.

Either things weren’t going well despite calling in the internal affairs department, or they were denied permission to call internal affairs altogether. The Shepherd needed a backup plan.

If so, I could somewhat understand why he gave me this grenade rifle reverse-engineered from a war-era weapon.

He was trying to create a variable. A single Posthuman Type IV body couldn’t be a significant variable, but a Posthuman Type IV wielding a weapon from that war era was different. It could be a sufficient variable.

This wasn’t good news. Belwether was a company that despised variables, and when a high-ranking official of such a company resorts to depending on variables… it meant things were seriously wrong.

I could set that issue aside for now. It could wait until after I tried breaching Belwether’s security with K and Black Friday. With an uneasy feeling, I asked Chance:

“So, Chance. Can I ask exactly when you’ll unlock it? Even if we act with the same purpose… it’s inefficient to gloss over this with just words.”

“Affirmative. I plan to authorize firing only against criminals, corporate paramilitaries, or other armed personnel who could harm civilians. Whether they wear enhancement suits is irrelevant. Even if they aren’t wearing enhancement suits, I will authorize use if subduing them by other means would result in loss of life.”

Chance was an AI capable of thinking and flexibility. At least he wouldn’t mistake mercenaries from other companies’ contractors for civilians. I decided to skip over the obvious.

“And you’ll only authorize firing in the wasteland, right?”

“Negative. If civilians have been evacuated and the situation is urgent enough to require this grenade rifle, I will unlock it even within the Greater Los Angeles area. However, in such cases, judgment may take slightly longer. Please be understanding.”

This was natural, as calculations would be needed to determine if civilians had truly been evacuated, or whether the grenade explosion might damage surrounding facilities.

At least Chance wouldn’t stubbornly prevent me from firing when necessary. That was sufficient. Chance, who had been merely responding, spoke again:

“Additionally, this artificial intelligence contains training manuals that were provided to Department of Homeland Security agents during that war period. If Agent Arthur Murphy demonstrates dedication to citizens, the manuals will be provided.”

Who knew the gift would be the voice of conscience echoing in my heart? At least if this voice of conscience unlocks the grenade rifle when I listen and provides new training manuals, there was sufficient reason to follow it.