Mission Log 003 - Too Many of Me (3)
Number 7436 Bella wasn't as finicky as we'd feared. She seemed content just to be recognized as a person. Even after sitting quietly all day, she showed no signs of resistance. It was as if she was saying, So what if my wrists and ankles are bound? Her compliance eased the team's tension a bit. Bola, who seemed the least interested in such matters, was the first to drag over an office chair and seat her.
"Wouldn't it be great if we could snag a decent sponsor instead of pointing guns at her head and just buy her out? She's so well-behaved."
"If the place I worked wasn't a brothel, maybe. What I learned there is that people want a night with Bella, but not to wake up next to her the next morning."
She might be smart. But intelligence is useless when it's not needed. Day by day, as she analyzed her surroundings, her thoughts must have dwindled. She didn't even know what it felt like to have blood rushing to her head, but she hated the idea of turning stupid with a vengeance. Enough to stage a hostage crisis, anyway.
"You can think, huh. So, when did you notice? There must've been a moment when some wire in your head snapped back into place, right?"
Bola's mechanical body harbored some humanity, which might explain why she could ask so casually. Eve always wore a mix of pity and disgust whenever she looked at 7436.
"I don't know exactly. It was just one day. A customer ordered something I really didn't want to do. I said no, and the culture team dragged me off for tests before sending me back. I didn't know anything, but I thought saying no was a big deal. It wasn't. You guys don't know when you became you either, do you?"
Bola let out a mechanical laugh. To anyone watching, Bola looked less human than 7436. We overused the word "human" without truly grasping it.
"Smart cookie. Not scared of parting ways in three days?"
Bound by cable ties, she pointed at me with her hands. No fondness in her expression.
"That guy throwing the exploding thing and coming in, and now too—I know there's nothing I can do. I'm pretending to be fine because I'm scared shitless."
Eve left the office upon hearing that. Bola patted 7436 with her mechanical hand and stood.
The official mission that day was simple: catch street racers. Unless we could chase cars on foot, Eve and I couldn't pull full weight. So the office held just the four of us: me, Eve, Enzo, and 7436. Eve looked like she had something to say but couldn't bring herself to.
As her frustration mounted, her voice cracked, the coldness crumbling. "Arthur, could you and Enzo step into the lounge for a bit? Close the door. It won't take long."
Enzo knew Eve's story, so we quietly stepped out and shut the door. I deliberately dulled my hearing. Enzo clasped his hands anxiously and sighed.
"Ugh, what kinda good poem is faith, turnin' people like that? Messin' with brain functions makes 'em not human, believin' in gods or whatever—same damn thing."
I kept my hearing dulled on purpose. No desire to eavesdrop. It was probably something for 7436 alone.
"Yeah. LA's lucky to have Bellwether keepin' it in check. Fill the quotas! I don't care. How great is that?"
Enzo shook his head quietly. Religion had been nearly eradicated, not just persecuted, but people needed something to believe in. Megacorps often filled the void. It wasn't religion—no one called it that, standing at the extreme of religious hatred—but their actions weren't far off.
He seemed to think I was one of them. "D-don't trust Bellwether too much, Arthur. It's a company made to make money, ideals just to fool people."
"Ah, um. I don't believe in Bellwether. You have a guess why my service record got wiped, right? I just... yeah. I believe what Bellwether believes. Having ideals matters."
Efficiency, stability, order. That's what Bellwether stood for. Few followed it in the field. I'd been charged with a crime outside the four tenets, punished in ways unrecorded. Yet Bellwether still championed efficiency, stability, order. Worth believing in still.
Betrayed doesn't make you a betrayer. Bellwether strayed sometimes, and so did I with personal grudges or Yakyeong recognition—but belief is belief.
Enzo chuckled softly at my words. Not mockery.
"Haha, been callin' real believers cultists. S-sorry..."
I closed my eyes, thinking of those at Bellwether who shared the ideals. Then a small voice in my ear—not Enzo's stutter.
"So don't close your ears. You gotta listen. Eve needs someone to hear her out. Even eavesdroppin'."
My ear itched; I rubbed it and asked Enzo, "What was that just now?"
"Ah, n-no. Just said you got a solid faith. That's it."
Was Enzo playing innocent? I'd decided to keep distance, but one persuasive word shook it. I'd told myself it was personal, ignore—but Eve herself had stayed by me out of personal concern until I met Shepherd One.
Maybe I could too. I reset my hearing, prepared for shock. The closed office door was no barrier now.
"I asked you two to give us space, but it wasn't for anything big. Just... I get it. Being surrounded by too many 'mes'—I know the feeling. Sorry if my look creeped you out. You just reminded me of Hollow Creek."
All men in Hollow Creek were Adam, women Eve. A surveillance city binding limbs with religion. Different people became the same Adam or Eve. Clones were at least physically equal. But Hollow Creek's weren't.
Eve's disgust made sense now. But that was all I knew. The rest was new.
Her voice softened a bit, like she'd been stalling for the real point. "Won't explain Hollow Creek—you get it. What I wanna say is... trust that culture team guy a little. Not many good people out there, but they're not zero. Betrayin' him and runnin'—freedom's short-lived. I want you to trust him."
Eve opened the door right after, as if dreading a reply. She looked drained, heading out for air down the stairs. After that, she never spoke to 7436 again. Like she'd said her piece.
7436 started brooding too. Missions those days, and the next, needed no extra effort. Two days' ammo didn't fill a mag.
Trouble hit on the third day, when we were to return her. I draped a blanket over sleeping 7436 on the leather sofa and stretched. A week into Yakyeong felt as comfy as six months at Bellwether—never happened.
Silly pun. Gulping water from the on-call room bottle, urgent footsteps approached from outside. Rhythm said Yoon. Augmented hearing made life easy.
She looked rattled—uncharacteristic. Something off-plan. She knocked on Valentina's on-call door. Seeing me awake, she sighed.
"No need to wake two. Good. Saw the morning news?"
Normally I'd shrug, but this felt serious. I straightened. "Nah, figured it was just Daily LA merc-stalking crap. What hap—"
She slid a holo-screen my way instead. It showed 7436 in an article: Half and Half Corp purging industry spies from the clone brothel.
Those idiots upstairs had screwed up. The article claimed the clone hostage incident was due to a rival spy in the culture team planting agents. Key part: Half and Half's security had rooted them out, ensuring no more clone malfunctions.
No numbers on purges or deaths. Couldn't tell if our client was swept up.
Breath caught. Yeah, if they were smart, they wouldn't have said bury it with one clone. Couldn't, so they torched their own necks.
"C-contact with the client?"
Obvious answer, but her voice dripped dread. "No, Arthur. Culture team Section 4 Chief, hands-on with ops—low survival odds. But that's not the issue. If the client logged our contract..."
It'd bury us. Even if Half and Half security was ragtag, Yakyeong field ops were four. Beyond us. Survive that, Bellwether audit hits. They'd claim Yakyeong colluded with spies to offload blame—contractor violation.
"We're fucked. Any way to check?"
"Could ask Kay to infiltrate, but purges aren't hacker-bait. Heads together first. Called everyone—wait."
Eve arrived first; others in fifteen. Faces grim. Mid-tier corp head-on? Insane.
No sharp fixes. Don't approach first. Half and Half was primed for bigger scandals to bury this. 7436's fate secondary. If logged, we're done regardless.
Meeting dragged. Eve spoke quietly. "What if we go in ourselves? We have 7436... Half and Half offers clone pickup service, free return too. Call for remote retrieval, take out security, then we hit Half and Half direct. Offer her freedom in exchange."
Sounded off-brand at first, but solidified. We'd met two guards yesterday.
"Those guards wore visored helmets—hiding affiliations, internals obscured. If we call one..."
Bola nodded approval. We knew different things—made us more efficient than clones.
"Post-purge, security gets two weeks off. Shock from 'killing bad guys,' not coworkers. Short-staffed. They might send one. Viable. Thoughts, boss?"
"Not bad, but..."
Who goes? Bola too conspicuous. Eve and Yoon lacked intimidating builds guards favored.
I spoke without resentment. Duty calls. Yakyeong lives, I live. Like leading Security Squad 4.
"I'll go. No Bellwether security badge, but you know I grad'd their academy. No one looks more guard than me. Just convince 7436."
My calm resolve made Yoon grab my collar, hesitating. But she knew options were nil.
Fine. Do it right. Half-corpse from incompetence? Graduated that at Bellwether.
I feigned ease. Was this academy indoctrination or me? Usually, me jumping in worked best.
"Kay, recap that alley gig. Obvious pick. And life insurance, bonus deets? Double-emergency mission—should be hefty."
Yoon regained composure. Faking calm reassures teams. They find ways.
"Double life pay... full 4500 credits prepaid to you. Not enough, but..."
"Plenty. Fill gaps with loyalty. Gotta have a company to stick to."
Prime the pump. Trust's like an old, rusty well pump—needs priming. Still works.
Trust lit Yoon's face. I believe Bellwether's beliefs. Efficient. I do efficient. Her eyes said she bought it.
She called 7436, unbound wrists and ankles, letting her walk out on her own. Blanket in arms, she stood before us.
"Can't say good morning, 7436. Half and Half purged spies—culture team paid. Client's fate unknown; we're next. So, proposal."
Yoon flashed her ID. Identity. Life. Name. Proof of self.
"Cooperate, help infiltrate Half and Half—we guarantee your new identity. New name, face, papers. Simple: go with Arthur, confirm client, wipe Yakyeong links."
7436 was sharper than expected. "He's staff; I'm not. Dump me, leave—"
Yoon's sniper eye gleamed. Bellwether efficiency flashed. Dismissing her doubt.
"Bellwether hates variables. Abandoning you to blab? Inefficient. Offliner killing you inside? Inefficient with eyes everywhere. We call for Bella 7436 retrieval, extract you, new ID—variable nullified."
7436 trembled at that zealous efficiency gaze—model citizen in hyper-speed era. Unseen in her world.
She nodded. Maybe Eve's empathy helped. Who knows.