by Jun Eishima
✦ ✦ ✦
Her consciousness rose from the depths rapidly.
She could see something through her eyelids. It must be bright. She was irritated, and tried to pull her blanket over her head. “10H,” she heard.
“Report: It’s time to wake up.”
“Sleepy.”
“Recommendation: Wake up.”
“No …”
“Warning: Wake up.”
“Five more minutes.”
Her body suddenly felt cold. Her blanket had been torn off her. Pod 006, the support unit of 10H, was as ruthless as ever.
“Ahhh. So annoying.”
10H gave up and righted her body. She needed to stop resisting and just give in before 006 resorted to even more ruthless methods.
Pod used its four arms to deftly fold the blanket, and placed it on the edge of the bed. It put the pillow on top of that. It clarified how determined Pod was to not let her sleep again. 10H sighed as she looked along.
White sheets and a white blanket, along with a white pillow. The walls were white, the floor was white, and the ceiling was white. It was white all over. The only objects that had other colors in this room were herself and Pod—her black uniform and Pod’s red body. No, perhaps one more: the room’s display, depending on what it was displaying.
A voice from the monitor notified 10H that the water temperature and water pressure were at normal levels. This facility was buried deep in the sea, 10,000 meters below the surface of the ocean. Even slight changes in the environment could bring about disastrous results, which was why the surroundings were constantly being monitored.
“Report: It’s breakfast.”
Pod had already brought in a cart with her breakfast on it. That’s white too, she thought. A white plate and a white cup. The cart that carried them was white as well.
“Recommendation: Eat it before it gets cold.”
10H reached for the bread that was on the plate. It was square and flat, with some brown char marks on its surface. When she bit into it, her mouth felt dry. It was hard to swallow, so she washed it down with the liquid in the cup.
“Question: Is the toast crispy enough? Was the coffee a bit strong?”
“Not really …”
Pod could faithfully re-create human breakfast menus every day, but 10H never thought much of it.
“I mean, whatever. We can live without eating.”
“Negative: Health comes from a healthy lifestyle. You must sleep well and eat well. Breakfast is an important source of vitality.”
Vitality? What was that again? Ah, it was “The state of having energy sufficient to accomplish things.” Pod often used ancient words from human civilization.
“It’s such a chore. I have to excrete the energy surplus too.”
It she didn’t eat she wouldn’t have to excrete. 10H thought it was a waste of time, but not according to Pod. “Good eating leads to good excretion,” it said, which apparently gave way to a better mental state.
Of course, androids like herself could break down most foods. In other words, “excreting” was a rare last resort for them.
“Oh …”
The toast she was carrying to her mouth fell onto her plate. Looking closely, she realized that her fingers were injured. She had thought it was difficult to hold her cup because she was sleepy, but her hands were damaged.
“When did this happen?”
“Answer: That is the aftermath of moving goods.”
“Is that … right?”
Yesterday some goods had arrived to resupply their stores. She did remember helping the Pods move them into storage, but had she worked that vigorously?
“Recommendation: Don’t overwork yourself.”
“Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind.”
Maybe her mental state was keeping her from remembering what had happened yesterday. Pod was right, she should probably eat proper meals.
✦ ✦ ✦
It wasn’t just 10H’s room that was all white. This facility’s walls, floors, and ceilings were all white as well.
It was hard enough to bring materials 1,000 meters underwater, so having an intricately decorated interior was out of the question. 10H had come here after the facility had already been made, so it wasn’t like she knew this firsthand. It was only a hypothesis.
This facility, which was placed deep in the ocean where the water pressure was 1,001 hectopascals, was constructed there because it needed to be a secret from the Machines.
The emergency backup servers were located here. They contained data about the human board on the moon and every member of the YoRHa squadron. Human data was the most precious thing in the world.
“Server room 27, all clear.”
Pod scolded 10H, who was eager to close the door.
“Warning: Check carefully.”
“Well, I don’t really understand anything that’s going on.”
Apparently there had to be sophisticated technology, and architectural modifications, to maintain a server this deep in the ocean. As a result, the whole operation was a jumble of components. A Type S might’ve figured it out, but a Type H, which specialized in healing and maintenance, had limited capacity to understand the environment.
And even if she didn’t understand everything, Pod did. In server room 27 alone there were fifteen Pod 006s flying about.
Fifteen red Pods. Since the walls and ceiling were white, they stood out. It was a bit overwhelming. Their back-and-forth conversations filled the air.
“Suggestion: Since today is a bad day, can we reorganize the data another time?”
“Objection: We can’t change the procedure at our convenience.”
“Answer: I was just clarifying our options.”
“Report: Anyway, today’s lucky number is nine, apparently.”
“Suggestion: Then should we work upside down?”
“Objection: No. Are you being serious?”
“Negative: Of course I’m joking.”
What was this conversation? 10H’s head hurt. It had no substance at all.
“Whatever.”
Her thoughts were pretty meaningless too. There was nothing to do here, so she didn’t have anything to think about. 10H’s job was to maintain the Pods. If there was any damage or problems with the Pods, it was her job to immediately fix it. That’s why a Type H was the resident assigned.
But the Pods hardly ever had any issues. And Pods would fix any slight issues themselves. Since first aid was part of their support role, they had simple recovery programs embedded in them. In other words, 10H had nothing to do.
She forgot how many months had passed since she was assigned here. She got a report every morning that noted how many days had passed and how many hours she had worked, but she had gotten tired of it and stopped listening.
“There’s no red lights, so that means it’s okay, right?”
“Roger: Yes, something like that.”
“Okay, let’s go to the next one.”
She went out into the hallway, and climbed the stairs. Since the server rooms were interconnected like a web, this hallway had a lot of turns and slopes, as well as staircases.
“Ugh! Walking is so tiring!”
“Negative: Walking is exercise.”
“I know that. But these shoes don’t help …”
The soles of her shoes had magnets in them, which purposefully made it more difficult to walk. It did provide her with enough exercise just walking around the facility, but it made walking a burden.
“Recommendation: Don’t complain, and just walk!”
“Ugh …”
“Recommendation: Where’s your reply?”
“Yesss.”
Once she climbed the stairs, she saw that the on the air sign was lit up. That was the broadcasting room. Apparently all the messages from the human board were gathered here before being broadcast to other locations. It was 10H’s prediction that this was to keep the whereabouts of the human board a secret, but she wasn’t sure.
She probably could have found out if she asked Pod, but she didn’t particularly want to know. She had no interest in the subject of the broadcast either. She couldn’t care less.
“Was today a broadcasting day?”
“Affirmative: There are 972 seconds left in the broadcast.”
Today’s my lucky day, she said in her head. She wasn’t allowed in the room during broadcasts, so she could skip it. It wasn’t good to skip the room in and of itself, but it just gave her a bit more free time.