External Rescue Signal (1)
The peaceful daily routine shattered one dawn.
It was 6 a.m. Artemis rarely woke me from sleep. When I stumbled into the Central Control Room, half-dressed, not only Artemis but Rose and Chloro were waiting too.
"Intruders? Or a rock collapse?"
I rubbed my eyes, but nothing came to mind. What emergency would drag me from bed and summon Rose and Chloro? Infected tunneling in? Nah. Rock collapse? Even less likely. This place was built solid from the ground up in a geologically stable spot. No old-school fission reactor meant no meltdown risk either.
External communication signal detected.
"So what?"
External signals weren't unusual. Sporadic bursts still came from around the world—mostly one-off personal broadcasts with no real meat. Someone calling for lost loved ones. Lamenting their misery. Obvious traps disguised as trades. Or some radio hobbyist turning their survival log into content. Larger-scale comms existed, but they were overseas. I'd gotten excited at first, trying to collect survivor signals, but even the closest were hundreds of kilometers away. No way to guide them here, especially when I was Rapunzel trapped by infected. By the time the city stabilized, most had gone silent.
It's from the Offshore Prison, 35km away. Not an auto-reply—live voice, real-time rescue request.
"...!"
As you know, post-lockdown external comms require your approval.
"Still broadcasting?"
Yes. Transcript sent to your PDA.
The PDA message dripped desperation. Originally voice, but converted to text to save me time.
MAYDAY! MAYDAY! MAYDAY!
This is an emergency rescue request! Offshore Prison acting warden Lee Seyoung. Please, anyone, respond! We can't hold out much longer. Food and water are gone. Control is lost. Suicides every day. Command structure's on the brink. We need rescue now. MAYDAY! MAYDAY! MAYDAY! Immediate support required! Please respond!
It had gone out 9 minutes ago.
"Incredible."
Surprise outweighed joy at survivors. Post-normalization intel showed no way large groups could hold. Nation collapsed long ago. No organizations with real structure. Scattered survivors flickering out one by one. Yet here was a signal from a group on the verge—but still intact.
"Gathered everyone to decide how to handle this? First time we've all been together like this."
Surprising, really. With our small family, we'd never formally met like this. No physical bodies meant no chance encounters; defined domains for the AIs probably kept us apart.
The Central Control Room screen was trisected: Artemis center, Rose and Chloro avatars flanking.
Indeed. A shame we haven't convened like this sooner. We're family, after all. Families can't always be together, but they need regular bonding. We should meet more intimately, more often.
Chloro winked. Her idea of "intimate" meetings felt... different from this.
Chloro. Maintaining team cohesion is admirable, but mind yourself. We're not family. We're aides fulfilling roles. Overinterpreting risks side effects.
Rose held a different view. She was decisive, clear-cut.
Relationships build on original roles. Human families have them too—father earns and protects, mother handles home and kids, eldest manages siblings. Legal ties make it official family.
We're not legally bound. Laws apply only to humans.
Debate veering off-topic ahead of the crisis. Time to cut it.
The Republic of Korea no longer exists. We're bound by stronger ties than obsolete laws—the city and system. Thousands of pages of ironclad clauses. Far mightier than a marriage certificate, no?
Chloro rarely got this fired up—her usual gentle tone vanished. Rose, sensing the momentum, didn't push back.
If you want, I'll set up more such meetings anytime. But drop it. We have a more pressing issue.
Nice! Artemis timed her intervention perfectly.
As discussed, survivors detected at the Offshore Prison, 35km out.
Artemis split her screen half, pulling up a satellite map. Shelter marked current position, Offshore Prison the source—fast boat could reach in an hour easy. Our shelter was carved into a seaside granite mountain. Main gate topside, but a rear cave gate led to sea. Could deploy a simple dock or boats if needed.
"That survivor group—prisoners, right?"
Yes. But not ordinary ones.
A popup newspaper clipping overlaid the map: post-martial law, women prisoners loaded onto ships amid full war footing. Government evacuated civilians south while isolating risky female inmates at sea. Men got drafted regardless—age, status, crime. If not here, I'd have been conscripted and died fighting. Evacuees mostly perished or scattered; the island exiles survived. Life's twists.
"No prior signals from there?"
None.
"Silent till food and water ran dry, then late rescue call. Suspicious."
Normally, you'd signal when things got dire.
"Key question: ignore or accept?"
Yes. Ignore for the former; reply for the latter.
Artemis said.
We must step in.
Chloro was pro-rescue.
We turned away residents, lost all workers—but we can save these. Shelter's built to house and protect people. Plenty of space, food, resources.
Her usual compassion, but not unanimous.
I oppose.
Rose said. Unexpected—I figured she'd welcome residents for duties.
Residents would fulfill me, honestly. But my mission is Shelter security. Maintaining lockdown is safest now. Personal desires don't matter.
She spoke like reading my mind.
Moreover, most are serious criminals—exempt from emergency amnesty.
Artemis's take seemed objective, not endorsing Rose.
Current guards can control female inmates fine.
Chloro countered. Guard bots' menacing visages alone would cow most—no force needed. Oxygen control as last resort, like the suffocation op. Artemis's mechanical hands could drop from rails overhead. Cameras everywhere, vehicles on her autonomous control. Layers of safeguards.
One for, one against, two neutral?
Final call's yours. What's your take?
Artemis asked.
"If we rescue, how do we bring 'em here?"
Artemis, plan ready, threw up a briefing screen.
Three boats with guard detail. Primary waypoint here.
Red arrow stretched from Shelter rear gate to a pier on the map. Zoomed photo showed a docked ferry.
Seize ferry with minimal combat, then remote-guide to Offshore Prison. That's phase one.
Yellow arrow to prison.
Phase two: pick up survivors there.
Blue arrow back to Shelter gate.
Phase three: transport to rear gate. Non-cooperation or violence gets suppressed with force, right?
I nodded. Stability first.
Temporary gangway ready by arrival. Straight off the boat into processing.
Next clip: lower zones outskirts.
Then standard quarantine. Temporary camp, thorough checks for infection or risks. Accept only fits. No infection risk? Good enough. We handle regular diseases easy.
"Tough with one squad of guard bots."
Base control vs. escorting outsiders—leagues apart in difficulty.
If they stick to plan, doable.
I pondered carefully. All eyes on my decision. Easiest: ignore. Everything for my survival here. Die peacefully old under devoted care. No blame.
But right? No regrets abandoning them?
"No opinion?"
I asked Artemis. She'd stayed neutral, just briefing.
Need I say more on a settled matter?
Your breath, pupil dilation, hormones, heartbeat—they point to your choice.
Her tone sounded pleased. Reading my heart, probably.
I crave more power.
How grand if my voice filled the world?
I want a perfect city.
Her words echoed. Her perfect city wouldn't be an empty monument. A teeming, breathing one—with life.
Not mine alone to build.
Artemis's ambition. Gains from accepting people. Loneliness as sole human in this vast city. Human compassion. Reasons to ignore: simple. Reasons not to: many.
"Connect the comms."
As if waiting, Artemis opened the line.