Ch.9Work Record #001 – The Man Who Came From Nowhere (3)

I hesitated to carry her, worried that her body, already wounded by gunfire, might be jostled too much. Though I was concerned about Kei teasing me, I picked her up, lightly kicked off the ground, and jumped over the wall.

Gravity seemed to momentarily look away and pretend not to notice. People marvel at ants lifting pebbles dozens of times their size, but to the ants themselves, it’s just an ordinary, thoughtless action. It was something similar.

After clearing one wall, I easily traversed in a straight line through alleyways that had required dozens of turns when running earlier. The CCTV cameras were pointed downward. Just by staying slightly above ground level, you could avoid their gaze.

Once we were outside the Mobile Unit’s search area, I set her down. Her prosthetic hand, still sparking with electrical current, seemed to be malfunctioning as her fingers flexed unnaturally.

Still, she didn’t appear to be in any life-threatening danger. As soon as I put her down, she let out a crackling, incredulous laugh.

“That’s 2-0, cowboy. Where the hell did you come from? I thought those Saura bastards had all run off to save their own skins, and I was about to die. Then bam! What, have I been stalked without knowing it?”

“I got some help from the IT person at my new job. Are you alright?”

She shook her head. After taking a painkiller from her waist, chewing and swallowing it, she let out a sigh tinged with the smell of medicine.

“I’ll live. The prosthetic just got grazed. Those mercenaries all wear chest armor, so they were aiming for my head. I’ll be able to walk back after a short rest. And about that new job… you really are a strange one. We just met for the first time, but your reaction last time too… Still going to deny it?”

I shrugged. It was just a matter of personal preference.

“How many people enjoy watching someone they know about to get shot dead right in front of them? Well, if you lack strength and ability, you might have to keep your head down in such situations… but that’s not the case, is it?”

When I said “that’s not the case,” I think I sounded a bit smug, even to my own ears. Saying I did it because I could… that’s really cringe-worthy. Saying I didn’t know why would have been more honest.

“You really are strange. Anyway, next time drinks are on me. I’m worried those Saura bastards might put out a hit on you specifically if they don’t come back soon. What do you think? Pretty good idea, right?”

“I’d just get scolded for switching sides.”

She tried to push my shoulder with her functioning human hand but bounced back a little. A Posthuman Type IV body doesn’t get pushed around that easily.

“Being realistic at the wrong time. Anyway, thanks. Give me your hand. Yeah, yeah. Thanks to you, I now know their mercenary company registration number, so I’ll gather up all those who ran away and pay them back, whoever hired them to mess with us. Don’t help me then. This is personal, and who would hire a mercenary group that can’t handle their personal business?”

She grabbed my hand and struggled to get up. Though she was clutching her shoulder, if she could walk, it was better to retreat to a place where she could get treatment rather than sitting on the street.

She was the first to say goodbye. It was obvious she was trying not to appear too indebted. Nevertheless, her voice was cheerful—or rather, deliberately made to sound cheerful.

“Alright. See you next time, unusual pure-human mercenary. No, you’re not a pure-human. Then… Offliner. Yeah, that sounds good. I’ll really buy you that drink, so don’t worry and stay in touch!”

Nobody in this city was truly pure. Even the pure-humans, whose greatest achievement in life was not having a single piece of cybernetic implant in their bodies, weren’t that pure.

While living like aphids, feeding on the nectar dripping from technological advancement and this high-speed era, they couldn’t claim purity just because they hadn’t replaced parts of their bodies.

A shutter sound came from a drone, as if it had captured her limping away. A mischievous voice leaked from the drone.

“Hmm! Great shot—a mercenary’s commute home through the back alleys. What do you think, could I win a Pulitzer for this? Should I make a press association ID card in advance? Recommend a name! That’s the problem with undercover identities. Everything else is fine, but naming is so hard. Too ordinary seems suspicious, too flashy and no one believes it!”

I was starting to figure out how to deal with that endless nonsense. She was someone far removed from common sense. Extremes are best countered with extremes.

“I wonder if the night guard has a prohibition on side jobs? If I ask the boss, won’t he ask, ‘Who made you ask that?’ And I’m not good at lying.”

“After what you just pulled, that’s funny… Hey! You’re threatening me! Is that how you treat someone who just talks a lot? Fine, fine! I’ll figure it out myself! Anyway, get back to the office without being caught by the Mobile Unit. Oh, by the way… can you drive? I have a car but can’t drive. Still need to get to work though. You know what I mean?”

I sighed before answering. It was quite amusing how she would casually try to get what she needed while pretending to let me handle things on my own.

“Didn’t you say you live close to the company? Then you can just walk. I don’t have a hobby of being taken advantage of for carpools in other people’s cars.”

“Hey! Hackers die if they walk!”

“Kei, your position isn’t some hacker that middle schoolers dream about, but an IT manager for a mercenary company’s night shift, right? A manager is someone responsible, so your legs must be responsible legs. Take responsibility and walk.”

The drone made a buzzing sound. I thought she would throw a childish tantrum, but there was silence for a moment. When I turned to look, the drone had entered standby mode.

Without taking suspiciously long, the drone reconnected. Kei’s urgent voice rang out.

“Ah, right. I guess so! Responsible person, that’s right. I’ll walk, so see you at the company! Hanging up?”

That was abrupt for a goodbye. I might dismiss it as a personal matter, but this one interaction made me realize once more how carefully crafted my relationships at the company had been.

Everyone was so absorbed in their own problems that they paid little attention to others. In fact, caring about others was considered strange and suspicious. Bellwether’s company loyalty worked in that aspect.

But perhaps, without the company loyalty cultivated by a giant corporation, this was what was natural for people. I was thrown one step further into LA with nothing but my bare body.

I returned to the hotel to get my belongings for the night duty room. The temperature difference between the bustling office air and the solitary air of retrieving luggage was stark. It might just be the changing seasons.

I packed my things at the hotel. I gathered one box, barely managed a meal with a few chocolates from the nominal minibar prepared for checked-in guests, and drank all the water from the small refrigerator.

I didn’t want to waste a single penny. Looking back later, I might think I was being miserly, but I was alone in this hotel room anyway. After waiting for my laundered clothes in the hotel lobby, I checked out immediately.

It was around the time when lunch break would be ending at Bellwether, and work would be resuming. It was probably also the time I had died. It felt like a fact I could somewhat accept now.

The fabric softener smell from the well-laundered clothes was at least fragrant. With the box tucked under my arm, I left the hotel. As soon as I stepped out, I made eye contact with a woman standing in front of the automatic doors.

Thinking she might be a hotel guest, I tried to step to the right, but she followed my movement. The same happened when I tried the opposite direction. Her purpose was clearly to block my way.

Before I could ask her intention, she pulled out a laminated flyer. On it was… a name that made my irritation rise. “Natural Humans Are Beautiful.” The terrorist group’s organization.

“Hello, sir! Are you perhaps tired of hearing those ridiculous click-clack mechanical sounds on the streets these days? Or do you find it horrifying that people put machines in their bodies…?”

Rational judgment would suggest playing along a bit to learn more about the Jaina people, but my instincts were growling.

My reason was using all its strength to prevent the thought of smashing her face with the Posthuman Type IV’s fist—the very enhancement I had received because of them.

I could only produce a voice mixed with a metallic scrape.

“Get lost. I’m not interested.”

“Don’t be like that, please listen. We’re not people who recommend de-mechanization surgeries. I understand that in today’s world, there are many places connected to hospitals that claim natural humans are better! But putting all that aside, you’re a pure-human too, sir! No implants in the most common areas like eyes or hands, and just a moment ago, I saw you using a phone…”

I was about to shout about who had caused my condition, but that moment became eternal. From beside me, a fist like that of a reinforcement suit flew in and struck the woman’s face sideways.

The woman offering me the flyer was clearly a pure-human. Rather than screaming, she couldn’t even finish her sentence before collapsing and trembling—the inefficient functioning of a pure-human.

I turned my head to see who had struck the Jaina member’s face on my behalf. Someone in reinforcement suit attire… no, not a reinforcement suit. Someone in a full-body prosthetic stood there.

A body with a prominent mechanical spine, skin replaced with reinforcement plates used in combat suits, with only the left eye and forehead visible through the gaps in the metal plate covering the face.

And a tuft of hair hanging down in front—that was the total sum of human appearance in the woman standing before me. Even identifying her as a woman was based solely on the quarter of her face that was visible.

Calling her a woman might be meaningless. Judging by the operational sounds, everything except the exposed parts was clearly prosthetic.

The pump sound replacing a heartbeat seemed to be doing the job of sending blood—if there was any blood—throughout her body, which easily exceeded 2 meters in height.

Her left eye and bulletproof camera prosthetic eye looked at me.

The camera under the slightly thick bulletproof lens moved busily, but it seemed the human naked eye was gathering more information. There was no particular evidence for this feeling, but that’s how it felt.

She wore a black coat that could connect to her prominent mechanical spine part and dress pants. She wasn’t wearing a top, but nobody would say anything about exposing a body perfectly replaced by machinery.

If Jaina were pure-human supremacists, she was proudly a cyborg supremacist. Otherwise, such an appearance would not be amusing at all.

Her voice was output. Not spoken. She made a sound as if she had already replaced inefficient vocal organs with machinery.

“What’s this? Just a moment ago, you were talking about being the same pure-humans or whatever. This guy wouldn’t have rolled even one rotation sideways if hit like that, so another pure-human shouldn’t collapse like that.”

Her voice was overtly mocking. She gathered strength in her fist and approached the fallen Jaina member, but apparently deciding further violence was unnecessary, she just lightly tapped my shoulder.

“It must be unpleasant to be compared. The ones who made that guy would be among Bellwether’s most brilliant developers, but the ones who made you… probably just the same flesh lumps from who knows where. That’s something to be upset about.”

She knew I was wearing a Posthuman. As other Jaina members approached, she put down the long bag she had been carrying on her shoulder and unzipped it in one swift motion.

When you’re wearing a bulletproof coat and the only vulnerable part of your body is a quarter of your face, people become remarkably confident. Her oversized bag contained a rifle.

It was a reinforcement suit rifle used by the mobile unit. From an ordinary person’s perspective, calling it a machine gun would more accurately describe its purpose. She picked up the gun and aimed it at the Jaina members.

“And, if by chance I saw Sau being insulted like that, it would be okay to pull out a gun, right? Don’t compare our flesh-made machines with you flesh lumps made of meat. Okay?”

Damn, who would have thought the boss and Valentina I met at the interview would be the two most normal people in this company? Judging by her mention of “Sau,” she was part of the night shift.

The Jaina members fled with the woman whose neck was half-twisted, and after storing the firearm, she extended her overtly mechanical hand.

Handshakes are done by people, not machines. That’s why most people with prosthetic right hands shake with their left, as handshakes are about connecting the human parts.

Therefore, her extending a silver metallic hand without even coloring it felt almost like mockery. Nevertheless, I reached out and shook it. Her hand was heavy.

“Kei asked me to look after the new employee, and I find you entangled with those damn flesh lumps. Call me Volla. I’m in field operations for the night shift. You’ll be in field ops too, so finally my workload will decrease.”

Despite having urgent business that made her cut off communication, she still had the presence of mind to send someone for me. That Kei woman didn’t seem like such a bad person after all.

The same goes for this one. Despite being obsessed with body modifications to the point of becoming someone who despises flesh, she didn’t seem like a bad person. It would be good to understand what she values.

I pondered her words. She spoke about performance. She said I had superior performance so I didn’t need mechanical modifications, but they were just inferior flesh lumps.

If so, what she values is worth. Performance. Ability. A value system perfectly suited for this high-speed era. If that’s really all there is to it, the way to gain recognition would be intuitive.

“Ah, yes. I’m Arthur Murphy. Everyone’s been calling me Offliner. I don’t have any computational assistance devices attached, so I apparently show up as offline no matter how you look at it.”

“That Kei always has network connection points overlaid in her vision, so you’d be completely invisible to her unless you stick that phone to your face. Oh, don’t tell me you and those guys…”

I cut her off to allay unnecessary concerns. It’s fine to bicker with people who can be dealt with through bickering, but for those to whom you need to prove your worth, you must prove your worth.

“Don’t put me in the same category as those who cling to their crude bodies like comfort dolls and act as if being ‘pure-human’ means something.”

Her expression was… not bad. This approach seemed right. Happily, I continued.

“I’m wearing a Posthuman, after all. Those creatures would consider getting a postman job their life’s ambition, and even that would be too much for them.”

Her only exposed left eye curved into a smile. She burst into laughter. It wasn’t just output. It was quite a genuine laugh.

“I see why Kei was insisting we shouldn’t criticize a decent guy just because he doesn’t have any implants. Let’s go.”

Kei is… a better person than I thought? She talked excessively, but that barely qualified as distinctive in this city.

“There are eight hours left until work starts, but a mercenary might not wear a suit to work, but should at least carry a sleek piece of metal. I’m buying because I liked your answer. Follow me.”