However, the idea of expending precious resources just to maintain the status quo, not to do something productive, was very taxing on her mental health.
In comparison, working with the agents Inside to capture Suikanet nodes was a very satisfying and rewarding duty. You could look on the map of Honshu and actually see JR North Japan’s green dots spreading, bit by bit.
Compared to the second generation of agents, who were all destroyed within a year with almost nothing to show for their effort, this was an incredible leap.
After they’d captured a sufficient number of Suikanet nodes, what would the next step be? None of the members of Engineering 2nd Division had been told yet, but they weren’t worried. Not a single person doubted the great mind and capabilities of their leader, Yukie.
Presently, however, there was big trouble brewing.
Two of the saboteur agents had gone missing. Samayunkur and Yaieyukar, two agents dispatched to the northern region of Tohoku, had gone silent for over a month since their last detected signal from the Ou Mountains.
Haikunterke, who had reached the Noto Peninsula, also went silent from time to time. But the Suikanet nodes in the Tohoku area were almost all under JR North Japan’s control, so it was unthinkable that Samayunkur and Yaieyukar would be without any means of communication for so long.
The company suspected that some error had occurred to both of them at once. So they ordered Nepshamai, currently assigned to the Kanto region, to travel back north to search for them.
“So let me ask one more time. What is Samayunkur like?” Rube asked.
“He is a genius,” came the brief response.
“Uh-huh. And?”
“And, um…”
The voice cut off for quite a while. It was unheard-of for Nepshamai to go for over five seconds without responding in a conversation. Rube glanced at the network status charts; the connection status to the Morioka area was very strong at the moment.
“What’s up, Shamai? You don’t usually do this.”
“It’s hard to describe him. Kur always seems to be talking as though he’s considering how other people view him. So the impression he gives off is totally different depending on the person. I’m betting the Kur I know and the Kur Terke knows are entirely different people. If you spoke with him, you’d probably find him different from what I describe. All I can say for certain is that he has an intelligence that’s far beyond any of ours.”
“Huh. So basically, you can’t read his inner thoughts.”
“That’s assuming he has inner thoughts. When it comes to him…well, to all of us, the only thing that matters to the mission is how we appear to the station, so whatever’s happening on the inside isn’t that important. Kur’s always understood that, so maybe he simply abandoned any pretense at having an inner core.”
“That’s kinda scary, huh?”
“I can’t relate.”
“Oh yeah, you don’t feel that emotion. Fear is rooted in survival instincts, after all.”
“In any case, there’s always the possibility that Kur’s disappearance is all part of a prank on his part.”
“Why would Kur want to prank us?”
“There’s no meaning to it. He’s not the sort who acts with purpose…although I’m not sure of that. Never mind. What I can say is that when it comes to Kur, nothing is certain.”
Rube wondered what the higher-ups were thinking, dispatching someone about whom everything was so unclear, but she held her tongue. She still didn’t know what the android kids thought about their own siblings. They were raised together and had the same goal; did they feel a kind of kinship because of that?
In any case, Rube was the type of person who felt mistrustful of anyone hailed as a genius. In her life experience, the so-called genius archetype was unsuited to fulfilling an assigned mission. Brilliant types changed their goals as they pleased. At least, that’s what human geniuses did.
A bell clanked to signal noon.
“Time to switch,” called a man behind Rube, tapping her shoulder.
“All right.”
She flicked the switch on the desk over to his computer. It was an instrument designed to keep multiple operators from being in contact with an agent simultaneously. Rube opened her mouth in a wide yawn and stretched, then grabbed a bottle of fresh milk from Tokachi’s dairy stronghold, drank it down in one go, and exhaled. She’d have preferred a beer, but she couldn’t crack one open at work just seconds after the end of her shift.
Lost communication with both at the same time.
Genius.
Can’t say anything for certain.
A mission to hunt for a coworker.
Makes you lose motivation to work.
Multiplying soba noodles.
Has nothing to do with dogs.
A cavalcade of jumbled key phrases cycled through her mind. She was exhausted. Talking with Nepshamai was like working out unfamiliar core muscles explicitly related to vocabulary.
She stood up from her chair and glanced at the nearby partition, where Kaeriyama was still sitting at his desk, staring at the screen. His shift ended when hers did, but there he was, still hanging out at his desk for no reason.
“Hey, our shifts are up. Get lost, Kaeriyama,” she said, kicking the back of his desk, the empty milk bottle in hand. “Our Shamai was telling me that you’ve got a weak stomach, and you still hang around after your shift is done, which makes you an unreliable variable that could break down and threaten the mission.”
“That’s what you said, Miss Rube. Shamai doesn’t say things like that.”
“Oh, shut up. I’m half-right. Here, drink this, go home, and actually sleep for once,” she instructed, handing Kaeriyama another bottle, this one of drinkable yogurt.
“No thanks. My house often doesn’t have any power these days, so it’s freezing. It’s easier to relax at work.”
“Just do what your work senior says, kid.”
“I’ve been in this department longer than you.”
He’s a mouthy punk, Rube thought.
The Corpocker-3 series of androids performing the current mission numbered twelve in all. Eight of them were in the field, while four were in maintenance or on standby at the facility in Hakodate.
There were several significant differences from the Corpocker-2 series.
• Their appearance was designed to mimic a human child rather than an automated turnstile. This made it possible to gather intelligence by communicating with Insiders.
• They were given handheld structural genetic field cancelers. The tools were developed for a different purpose, but their ability to tear holes in the station structure made them valuable for mobility Inside.
• They were loaded with a unique brain called a main memory device. Unlike the previous generation, which had to be remotely controlled through Suikanet, these were far more autonomous. This enabled them to engage with the mission proactively, even in areas with a poor connection.
However, to preserve some semblance of management of the agents, it was possible to control them remotely to a degree. Any unnecessary emotional attachment might dull one’s judgment of the right time to take “control.”
On a wall of the Engineering 2nd Division was a poster for the three laws of an agent’s technical officer.
One: Always get adequate rest.
Two: Do not get excessively attached.
Three: Do not doubt the value of the mission.
At the very least, Kaeriyama was failing to uphold rules one and two.
When Rube was first assigned, she thought it was ridiculous to make the androids look so human and then demand that you didn’t get attached to them, but it wasn’t the company’s fault. They were made that way to fool the station, not for the sake of the operators.
Just don’t think too hard about it. It’s a job, nothing more.