Ch.5Final Work Record – Dishonorable Discharge (3)

“You’re really damn calm… Is that how all Belwether folks are?”

The mercenary who had originally been employed by Jack let out a hollow laugh as she asked. Mercenaries don’t betray. At least not until their clients betray them first.

Jack had hired her for what should have been simple lab security, but what she actually got was the job of sending a Belwether employee wearing a Post-Human series enhanced body to the operating table. That was betrayal.

So I could trust her a little. Leaning on that thin trust, I shook my head. I wasn’t nearly as calm and mechanical as I appeared.

“I’ve been trapped in a virtual reality inside a cultivation tank with no net connection for a month, thinking only about smashing that bastard and getting out. After nearly dying, ‘calm’ isn’t exactly how I’d describe myself.”

“That’s calm enough. You know how many rookie mercs out there get startled by their own gunshots and shoot like crap? Anyway, to the point. Our identities…”

She was looking for a way out. A good sign. The fact that she wasn’t trying to somehow turn this situation around and handle it herself was perfect for me.

“I’ll vouch for you. Well, just looking at how you’ve got that guy’s wrists zip-tied shows that Stephanet will probably take that into consideration…”

She exhaled briefly, as if relieved. Gesturing toward the other mercenary who was sitting on the floor, spraying pain medication on his broken arm with trembling hands, she said:

“Then buy us a drink to make up for breaking his arm. Might not seem like enough, but even though we’re just regular employees, it doesn’t hurt to be on good terms with Belwether people. What do you say?”

A web of connections spread like a spider’s web helps you take one less bullet during a job, get backstabbed one less time, or somehow get saved by someone when there seems to be no way out.

“As long as you’re not asking me for minor rule violations. This mess I’m in now… it happened because of a very, very shitty minor rule violation.”

That was all the time it took. While the mercenaries had zip-tied Jack’s wrists, leaving him with no means to resist, and were exchanging a bit of small talk. At that moment, a black silhouette appeared at the lab door we had left open earlier.

Too large to be human. Even carrying what looked like a rifle so heavy it required an exosuit to fire—something regular employees rarely saw even once a month.

It seemed to have assessed the internal situation and deliberately revealed itself. I could sense the moonlight coming through the windows bending about three and a half times due to the optical camouflage of the exosuits preparing to enter.

I pointed toward the tactical team in exosuits to the mercenaries who were looking at me, wondering why I’d suddenly stopped talking. Despite the weight of the closed exosuits, there wasn’t the slightest sound.

The mercenaries quickly put down the shotguns slung over their shoulders, the pistols at their waists, and even the daggers they’d kept just in case. Tactical teams are typically staffed with impatient types.

Seeing them disarm without orders, the tactical team member in the exosuit began speaking through the external speakers. Even the slight static in that voice came through clearly.

“Facial recognition complete. Security Team Emergency Response Division 6, ‘Striders,’ Strider One, Section Chief Michael McMurdo. Identify yourself by rank and name, prior to death classification.”

I stood up at those words, looked at him, and gave a brief salute. I may have spent a month lying in a coffin, but I had practiced much longer than that to do my part as a security team rookie.

“Belwether Los Angeles Branch Security Division 4, Shepherd Six, General Staff Arthur Murphy. Please confirm voice identification.”

Stephanet briefly continues the procedure of comparing my language usage patterns and movements to confirm that the brain inside my body is really mine. It doesn’t take long. Stephanet was already certain.

“Confirmation complete. Who are those mercenaries beside you?”

“They’re mercenaries hired by the copyist Jack Winstead, but they seemed unaware of the job details, so I only subdued them. They also helped arrest and detain the copyist. Would you authorize them to submit their contracts to prove they’re victims of a fraudulent agreement?”

The mercenary sitting in front of me was biting her lip, as if worried I might say we were on the same side. After I finished speaking, she slumped back in her seat.

“If they were just caught up in this, it should be taken into consideration. Two civilian contractors, submit your contracts.”

Whether they submitted their contracts or not wasn’t visible to me. My vision wasn’t augmented, and I didn’t have any implants at the moment. In an unaugmented world, clues remain invisible.

I thought I should replace my eyes first if I got reinstated. No eyes would match Post-Human IV type eyes, but this body was far too good for someone like me.

“Contract verification complete. Simple security duty, confirmed. Would you accompany us to Division 4 for investigation? And put something on. Your security team affiliation was removed due to death classification, so we couldn’t bring security uniforms, but…”

The tactical chief pulled a vacuum-packed set of employee clothes from a storage compartment on the tactical drone following him and tossed it to me. It was a regular office staff uniform I’d never worn before. The quality was still excellent.

True to Belwether’s name—a bell-wearing sheep—the top had a trapezoidal zipper, and it was mostly white. Though it had anti-stain technology, it would still be troublesome if something got on it.

It had been a while since I’d worn real clothes. The regular employee clothes weren’t very good for mobility, but they were excellent as the first clothes to wear after coming back from the dead. The tactical chief nodded briefly.

“Emergency Response arrived first, and the situation report is complete, so the Information Processing Team will be coming to take this copyist away. I should say the ceremonial words. Dr. Jack Winstead… The Information Processing Team is as slow as a sheep with a broken leg. It’ll take them nearly thirty minutes to get here.”

The closed exosuit approached the man trembling on the floor and crouched down lightly. Jack looked worried, as if afraid the man might crush his head under his foot.

But Belwether wasn’t a company that showed such mercy. The tactical chief continued:

“Those thirty minutes are your last chance. Not your last chance to escape. Not your last chance to make a deal or confess. It’s your last chance to commit suicide. If dying is too frightening, you might want to scream now all the screams you’ll let out for the rest of your life. The Information Processing Team only wants the contents of the gray matter in your head, not the vocal cords to scream with, the tongue to bite, or the teeth.”

I tried to suppress the chill running up my spine. Being on the security team, I was somewhat familiar with the Information Processing Team’s activities… but only somewhat. They were chilling.

He got up after gagging Jack to prevent him from biting his tongue. After taking away even the chance to scream or take his own life that he’d just mentioned, he gestured for me to follow him.

“You’ll have to attend a disciplinary committee meeting as a formality. One way or another, you are wearing a copied product. The replication of a cutting-edge enhanced body is a major issue, so a corporate supervisor from headquarters will also participate. Both mercenaries, follow as well.”

He raised two fingers to where his ears would be in an almost habitual motion, then spoke with his external speakers still on so I could hear:

“Situation resolved. Found the sheep. Returning to the pasture.”

Three Emergency Response Division vans were already waiting in front of the lab. The mercenaries were directed to the third van, and I was assigned to the second.

I wondered why we needed to be separated, but when I saw the face waiting for me inside, I couldn’t even ask. The Security Division Chief was there. The chief of Security Division 4 where I had worked.

Pacing inside the van, he clenched both fists as if he’d found a long-lost son when I boarded. With a confident expression, he poured out his words:

“I knew you weren’t dead, kid. How could someone who shoved a grenade into that bastard even after getting those fucking claws stuck in his chest not make it to the hospital? Absolutely not! Welcome back, Shepherd Six. Well, I mean, we did assign someone else to your position… but when someone says Shepherd Six to me, that’s you, kid. You know that, right?”

Those words made my chest feel cold, but I decided to bear with it. I didn’t want to ruin that happy expression. We boarded the van and headed back to Belwether’s corporate headquarters.

The dawn air was mixed with smog as if coated with smoke liquid, but at least the moon was visible today. For me, the terrible downpour had been just recently, but not for this city.

The van runs between skyscrapers. The early morning drivers didn’t try to block the path of the corporate security vans driving in a line. It was a bit amusing how the road parted as if for a fire truck.

Right now, I didn’t want to ask what had happened to that monstrosity. Talking about revenge during recovery time was inefficient. Belwether hated inefficiency, and so did I.

Arriving at Belwether’s headquarters, I used the security staff-only passage I hadn’t seen in a long time to move to the disciplinary committee room. They seemed to want to proceed immediately. The higher-ups appeared to barely sleep.

It must be because of all the cybernetic implants they’d attached to their bodies. They modified their bodies to the point of almost breaking their minds with phantom pain, sometimes looking less like people and more like machines built by some deranged scientist who used a bit of organic material as components. It was a portrait of people becoming monsters in pursuit of efficiency.

I step into the disciplinary committee room. Essentially, it was an ordinary office. There were seats for the disciplinary subject and a few witnesses, and displays rising like tombstones from the floor surrounding the disciplinary subject in a bright room.

To surround means to pressure. There were eight displays in total, but only three were currently turned on. One of the two displays at the head position output audio.

Above the display floated a logo in the shape of a bell-wearing sheep. It was Belwether’s logo. Not the simplified bell shape, but the complete version.

“Good evening, former General Staff Arthur Murphy. I am Belwether. I am the headquarters management AI of Belwether Corporation, and I am here representing the will of the corporation, all shareholders, and the Chairman.”

This is a good sign. The fact that the Belwether AI, not the Chairman, is here means this isn’t being treated as a very important matter. The other display at the head position output audio.

Only the words “No Video Output” floated in white on that display. This one was a person. At least, it should be a person. People are unpredictable, so that’s a bad sign.

It was intuitively a bad sign. A monster that should only appear in nightmares had walked into reality at that moment.

“Former General Staff Arthur Murphy. I’ll omit my name since you won’t hear it anyway due to the automatic censorship system. I’m the Director of the Belwether Los Angeles Branch. Let me say in advance that my opinion is ‘no exceptions.’ For the company, maintaining an employee who has used a copied product, even if there were any exceptional clauses, is more important than saving just one person like you. That’s only natural, isn’t it?”

The Security Division Chief tried to stand up, but the Tactical Chief restrained him. It seemed only two displays were currently online. I grabbed one trembling hand with the other to stop it and calmly replied:

“But, but… there’s nothing in the company rules that says an innocent employee can be punished just to avoid setting a precedent! Belwether AI, please check the company rules.”

“Reviewing company constitution and rules. Review complete. Former General Staff Arthur Murphy’s claim is valid. I express concern in the name of the company. Branch Director _–_-_-. Regarding copied product issues, the principle is to prioritize investigation of technology leaks over investigation of employees involved in the incident.”

Due to the automatic censorship system, I couldn’t hear the Branch Director’s name. Belwether calling him by name was pressure to make a wise decision. A sigh leaked from the Branch Director’s display.

“Isn’t it also stipulated in that constitution that headquarters should not interfere with branch decisions, Belwether AI? If you say so, I will reconsider. Former General Staff Arthur Murphy, when did you know that artificial body was a copied product? Didn’t you accept the procedure with the meager mindset that even a copied product would be fine when faced with death?”

He intends to make an example of me. It was clear now. The other’s attitude was too cold to cling to the fear of being discarded by the company. I had to pull myself together. I had to do something.

I take one deep breath. All of this would be recorded by the numerous sensors planted in this room. I spoke with almost gritted teeth:

“Since when has the disciplinary committee been a place to punish an employee’s mindset rather than their actions? According to the company constitution and rules, I have no obligation to answer that question.”

Two voices were heard simultaneously. They were words that instantly revealed the attitudes of the beings behind the two displays.

“Valid.”

“Uncooperative, I see.”

But strangely, there was no displeasure in the Branch Director’s voice. It seemed my proper rebuttal didn’t interfere with his intentions.

I need to think. Having died and come back to life, I can’t be thrown into a world where I have no way to live after being blacklisted by the disciplinary committee. But what can I do right now?

There was nothing I could do. All I could do was rely on the Belwether AI. The Belwether AI began to speak. Or rather, tried to. Her words stopped after just two syllables.

“Unco…”

Even the Branch Director seemed a bit confused at this moment. When he called out “Belwether AI?” to the AI that had stopped speaking, the AI began to output audio again.

“I apologize for the inconvenience. The Chairman has sent a message. The Chairman acknowledges the importance of not setting a precedent. However, he also conveyed that he does not consider former General Staff Arthur Murphy’s acquisition of a copied Post-Human IV enhanced body, when he had no choice, to be a crime worthy of blacklisting.”

Not setting a precedent meant dishonorable discharge and blacklisting, but saying blacklisting was too much… I didn’t understand.

The Branch Director asked again in a voice still devoid of displeasure. I was starting to get confused about whether he lacked emotion or simply wasn’t displeased with this situation.

“So… the Chairman wants to bury this incident, quietly dispose of the copyist, and then block the technology leak route? I’d like to hear what the Chairman wants, Belwether AI.”

The fact that I had nothing to add was terribly frustrating. The few objections I could make carried only the weight of reference material compared to their opinions.

Would the person called the Chairman know the word mercy? I couldn’t answer, and the situation of having to rely on someone’s mercy felt terrible. The Belwether AI output audio:

“He wishes to erase former General Staff Arthur Murphy’s employment record and release him as if Belwether Corporation had never employed him. He was never here. He was never employed, never declared dead in the Zaina terrorist attack on October 3rd, never acquired a copied enhanced body, and today’s disciplinary committee never happened.”

The Branch Director was about to answer immediately but stopped. This is what he wants. It seemed similar to blacklisting and firing me versus erasing the records and giving me another form of dishonorable discharge.

What’s the difference? I needed to know what the Branch Director could gain from this to agree with that opinion… but having been in a virtual reality without even net connection for a month, I had no clues to infer from. I stamp down the helplessness climbing up my ankles. If I let helplessness reach my ankles, it would soon wrap around my neck.

“Even so, you wouldn’t want to just let him go. Regarding the Post-Human IV type enhanced body, recovery…”

“No. The Chairman has judged that leaving records of the operating room’s use and having more people witness it would be more dangerous than releasing him. Former General Staff Arthur Murphy can walk out of here if he agrees to remain silent. The Chairman has proposed this. He also proposes to give you a 3-hour grace period to settle your company affairs if you promise to remain silent.”

Strange. Ridiculous. It means they’ll give me Belwether’s latest enhanced body and freedom just for keeping my mouth shut. I couldn’t understand what the company would gain. There must be some logical connection…

If I leave the company with the enhanced body… the Los Angeles branch won’t get a Post-Human IV enhanced body with the brain extracted. That’s all I could think of.

Is it a pride battle between headquarters and the branch? The Branch Director was actively trying to preserve his right to judge me as Branch Director. It might be possible, but… that’s it.

I couldn’t tell if this was a lifeline I should grab, or a rotten rope extended in hopes I’d fall to my death. Still, one thing was certain so far: headquarters had been on my side.

Then it would be better to take headquarters’ rope. At the very least, siding with headquarters would allow me to keep the Post-Human IV enhanced body.

Either way, Belwether intends to cast me out. No matter which side I choose, I’ll have no place at Belwether. So I decided to be selfish. I made a promise with my meager goodness.

Having never even been to a casino, it looked like I’d be making my first gamble in a company disciplinary committee. The spot where I’d been hit by a shotgun seemed to burn and sting again.

If I’m going to get crushed in a whale fight no matter which side I choose, I might as well pick the bigger, stronger-looking whale. My voice trembled with fear of choosing either side, but I composed myself again.

After briefly looking at the Security Division Chief, who was watching me with concern but couldn’t give an answer, neither nodding nor shaking his head, I turned back to the displays and spoke.

Even the heaviest decision in my life felt too light to utter.

“I… accept headquarters’ offer. I agree to the silence order and will take the three-hour grace period.”