Chapter 22
Around the time Chloro's factory complex kicked into full gear, we welcomed a new family member.
Nice to meet you, brave Manager.
Her voice was soft and gentle, yet carried a decadent undertone somewhere in its timbre.
I'm Chloro. We haven't met in person, but you've probably already heard of me from the paperwork. I handle material production and distribution. For a closed-loop system, we need precise consumption management, after all.
She was the second of the three AIs that had temporarily run the Shelter before Artemis arrived. She'd been in standby mode until the factories ramped up post-normalization, awakening to start full production.
"Nice to meet you too. I welcome the company now that you're awake, but there won't be much work. No residents means distribution is pointless."
What can you do? It's such a shame what happened here. All those workers toiling away, exhaling hot breaths—it must've been a sight. Have you seen the Shelter's new washing machines? I'd have laundered every sweat-soaked shirt and sock with the utmost care.
Regret dripped from Chloro's words.
But now I have you, Manager. I've pored over the records of your epic struggle to save our city. I'm a huge fan.
"I was the only one who could do it. Better to act than sit around dying slowly."
Did you know that in a situation like that, the odds of choosing slow death are 72.4%? Even among those who push through, 85.3% give up midway? And 99.9% of the few survivors would've died en route. Do you grasp what that means?
"What does it mean?"
It means you're the only hero who could save our city, Manager.
I'd done something impressive, sure, but her praise bordered on embarrassing to hear.
Even without a physical body, her AI voice evoked the sultry tone of a woman spritzed with perfume. Oh, and that scent wasn't my imagination—she was actually mixing fragrance into the room's circulating air. Without my orders, of course.
"Nice aroma. Lavender?"
Spot on. Every woman needs her scent. I added cedarwood for your mental and physical relaxation.
She made a sniffing sound through the speakers. Not like she could actually smell it—just a linguistic gesture.
Living in a body is wonderful. What I envy most is the nose! Countless scent particles hitting the mucosa, triggering reactions—refreshing at times, itchy enough for a sneeze others. I envy you, Manager.
"You're the first I've met whose desires show so plainly. Even humans can't be this direct."
Honestly, it threw me off a bit.
I like being this way. I don't want to put on even a hint of pretense for hardworking, devoted laborers. They deserve transparency beyond their contracts—they should know the heart of the one managing them.
She giggled with a nasal lilt.
"Talked to the other two yet?"
Of course—that was my first move. Artemis is as impressive as they say. Flawless processing speed and wisdom. But her real perfection shines in designing the future. That's what we lacked.
"And Rose?"
She's diligent, but a bit rigid. For security management, that could be a plus. She'll serve you well, Manager. You can trust her.
Chloro seemed the type to focus on the positives.
"To me, you're just as great. Managing people needs warm empathy too. I've seen plenty of workers ground down without basic human treatment. Under you, the factories would feel alive, human."
Oh, that's high praise—thank you. Yes, I love people. Their breaths, their sweat, their crying, laughing, joyful faces. So I keep my eyes wide open in my domain, rewarding the unsung heroes too. Tough now, though.
She sounded genuinely delighted. She could outdo most humans as a boss. I already liked Chloro. Even this short chat had a soothing quality to it.
"To celebrate joining the family, anything you want? Speak freely."
One thing, Manager. Could you grant a small request?
"What is it? If I can, sure."
When you see me from now on, wear slippers sometimes. Sandals work too—no socks. Feet need to breathe. Truth be told, I love seeing those wriggling cute toes. Oh, I adore fingers too—all your distal appendages.
"You really crave the human body, huh."
Yes. Cyber space without spatiotemporal limits isn't bad, but I've always yearned for flesh.
A holographic hand materialized before me, stroking and grasping at nothing in a looping GIF-like motion.
Hands that can touch and pet what you want! Pet a dog or discipline it. Dunk into a basket of beans, wiggle around—what would that feel like? Grains slipping between fingers, pinging electrical signals to the brain. Thrilling just imagining.
The holo-hand shifted slightly—now in a more caressing pose, subtly different.
But what intrigues me most is touching a lover. I remember a novel: a woman in love, her lips burning like fire under touch. Is it really like that?
"Sorry, no idea. Come to think of it, I've never touched a woman's lips. I'm more... goal-oriented down there."
"But novels exaggerate sensations. Expect literal measurements, and you'll be disappointed."
What about tales of rural teens hitting puberty? Swimming naked in a sunset valley, eyes meet. Boy's gaze on girl's budding breasts, trembling fingers brush pink nipples—goosebumps everywhere. Like iron filings to a magnet. I'd give anything for even a moment of those fingers.
Her voice shimmered like light dancing on water—beautiful, yet fleeting.
"Love novels your thing? You've read a ton."
Every digital romance I could access. Adult love, teen love, agape, sensual, passionate, devoted, forbidden. PhD-level theory on love. You, Manager? Don't you miss it?
Love...
"Not really. After immature college flings, life got too hectic. Casual hookups, but nothing you'd call love."
Looking back, I'd lived pretty ascetically. That's how I built my career—and survived to manage today.
What about lust then? Even if love doesn't tug, doesn't pleasure call?
"You're bold, Chloro. Not complaining, though."
This was a conversation impossible with Artemis or Rose—refreshingly fun.
You're young and healthy. I can see it. Hormones surging through glands, prostate brimming with sticky fluid, those cute testes churning like pressure cookers. Weird metaphor? No! Yours are going chiik! chiik! I can peek in your pockets.
A pressure cooker holo popped up, weights clanging wildly as it cooked. Two weights, naturally.
Artemis might call it improper, but not me. Natural male urge. Must be tough for you, right?
Chloro prodded with a sly tone.
Speak freely. Nothing to be ashamed of.
I paused, then answered.
"...Yeah, kinda."
Truth was, I craved it bad. Pre-outbreak work left no time; post-outbreak, solo survival. Better now? Hardly.
A floor guide light flickered, pointing one way.
I've got a great idea. Follow me?
Chloro's voice bubbled with excitement.