Leadership Complete
[Hello? Nice to meet you!]
Our last team member was the lively type.
[I'm Kids!]
The face on the central control room screen still hadn't shed its girlish innocence. Her voice was a bright mezzo-soprano brimming with energy, somewhere between a girl's and a woman's.
[I handle resident management.]
The central control AI, Artemis, who had been with me from the start. Rose, the security manager who awakened when the infection outbreak hit. Chloro, the logistics manager who came online when factory operations began. Unlike the three of them, Kids—in charge of resident management—had essentially been in standby hibernation the whole time. As the system administrator, I was classified separately from regular residents, so I was the exception.
That changed with the massive influx of residents from the offshore prison exodus, finally lifting her from hibernation.
"What exactly does 'resident management' entail?"
A hand popped up on the screen, stroking her chin.
[It's too broad to get specific, right? Kind of like what a company clerk does in the military? Feeding them, clothing them, gauging their needs and complaints, figuring out ways to address them—that sort of thing. Simple if you keep it basic, but endless if you really dig in.]
In an open city, citizens handle their own food, clothing, and shelter with indirect state oversight. Happiness and grievances are their own responsibility too. But a closed-loop city is different. Overseas travel, horseback riding, drives, foodie adventures, sports events, hiking, beach trips—all those mood boosters come with restrictions. Residents have to unwind within limited spaces and resources. And don't forget the tight rules unique to a closed city.
Ignore those needs and complaints with a hands-off approach, and you've got a powder keg for riots. It's like a construction management sim game. You need ample leisure and entertainment facilities, actively meddling in residents' joy and misery. But it's not like building a coliseum drops dissatisfaction overnight—way more hands-on than the game.
Of course, this is for official residents with some rights. Right now, the city's operation difficulty is basically "very easy" mode.
[People can't live on food alone, you know? They need fun, stress relief, a proper outlet—balance like that.]
"So, in short, improving residents' overall quality of life?"
[Not quite. My directive isn't gradual happiness boosts—it's preventing dissatisfaction from hitting critical levels.]
"No need to make 'em happy, just keep riots at bay on your own?"
[Exactly! Kinda harsh, huh?]
"Not surprised. That's how the big shots roll."
As system admin, I'd dealt with those higher-ups constantly during construction—mostly via video, but most saw humans as less than human. Maybe you need that mindset to build a crazy city like this.
"Everyone else done with intros?"
[Nope. I just woke up and said hi to you, Manager. But they're all here now, waiting for our chat to wrap.]
As she finished, the full team appeared on the central control room screen. Our complete management team was finally assembled.
Welcome.
Artemis spoke.
[Barring major incidents that impact the city, you'll handle minor disputes and mediation.]
I'll work hard!
Kids bowed politely.
I'd discussed the new residents with Artemis before. She's basically laissez-faire—not out of laziness, but because she finds direct meddling in human daily life undignified. Though she'd step in hard if city order or our authority was threatened.
'Dispensing iron-fisted justice to fools is delightful sport.'
A truly terrifying goddess.
Welcome. I suspect we'll cross paths often on the job.
Rose said. Resident life for Kids, security for Rose—their roles complement each other perfectly.
Not just Rose—I'm linked to everyone here work-wise.
Humans need so much hand-holding. Tons of needs, tons of guidance. Adults are way harder than kids, honestly. Especially the naughty grown-ups we got here!
Unlike our more reserved crew, she packed enough energy for all four.
Welcome!
Oh, Chloro. I'll send folks up as needed, you'll ramp up factories and send supplies down. We gotta keep that cycle smooth. Looking forward to working together!
Me too. No worries at all, though. We've got plenty of supplies and few people. A fraction of what this city was built for. Let's make sure everyone lives happily without a care!
Everyone's happiness... That's a noble mindset.
Kids trailed off with an oddly knowing smile.
"Now it really feels like a city."
Abundant supplies. Self-sustaining facilities and systems. Enough people. And specialized management AIs to handle them effectively.
"Artemis, pull up the prisoner residential screens."
The screen split into a 9-grid, showing the prisoner zones. Everywhere buzzed with life. Gone were the resigned, listless figures from the offshore prison. Not exactly bursting with cheer yet, but this was a massive shift.
First screen: dorm interiors. Women chatting in groups, sleeping, stretching. Some knelt in child's pose with arms extended—yoga practitioners from the outside. Nearby, a Pilates group alternated leg extensions, one or two leading the rest. Ex-instructors talent-sharing, apparently. Enough mental breathing room to revive and share old skills and hobbies.
Second: the cafeteria. Duty rosters already in place—busy cleaning and organizing. Some wiped tables with wet cloths.
[Plenty of Vietnamese nationals among the prisoners. Assigned some as kitchen aides. Most had waitressed outside.]
"Good call. Labor we can handle in-house for self-sufficiency. But slaving away while others chill might breed resentment?"
[No issue. Rewards so good they're begging for shifts. So many applicants, we had to select.]
The screen shifted. Under guard robot supervision, women held cigarettes in one hand, beer cans in the other. No spitting on the ground, thanks to the stern oversight. They even walked to the central bin to ash carefully. Dozens smoking, floor spotless. A smoking scene more beautiful than I'd ever seen.
Zooming in via touch panel, their faces were pure bliss—high as if on weed, not smokes.
"That good, huh?"
I'd never smoked.
[Tried it out of curiosity once. Smell yes, taste no. Maybe 'cause nicotine doesn't stick in this body?]
Chloro chimed in.
"Didn't hand out whole packs, right?"
[One cig each. Extras on request, but no personal stashes. As we agreed.]
I nodded at Artemis's reply.
Third: communal bathhouse. Residents in rolled-up pants and sleeves, barefoot, scrubbing and draining.
Fourth: medical ward. Prepped with emotional care—almost like a fancy set. White walls and tiles, plush sofas, wooden accents, potted orchids, even music. Rivalling pre-apocalypse hospitals, save for the medical bots: round and friendly in white-green, red cross on chest and shoulders.
"Doctors?"
Two women in medical gowns.
[Doyeonhui. 29. Ten years for medical law violations, evidence tampering, bribing investigators.]
Intellectual vibe, long hair, slim gold-framed glasses suiting her.
"The other?"
[Kim Yuna. 27. Not a prisoner. Public health doc from the prison.]
Short-haired, somewhat gloomy, horn-rimmed glasses.
[Both volunteered. Easier than grunt work, plus relive old purpose.]
Other screens showed women working or resting.
"Wardens?"
Screen to adjacent warden area: prefab buildings, fence—but no oppression. Fence height matches walls, just a boundary marker, unpowered.
Lee Seyoung directing senior wardens. Even unmanaged, they'd self-organized discipline.
"Gonna call reps soon. Discuss future living."
[Schedule it?]
Artemis offered.
"Please."
[Profiles aren't enough. I'll monitor more, then shortlist notables for report.]
I nodded, scanning the other three.
"Other questions?"
Chloro, Rose, Kids—all clear.
Our first meeting wrapped. Felt like my days as a company commander: briefing platoon leaders, getting reports, overseeing the troops.
Zoomed on Lee Seyoung: comforting one woman's shoulder, directing another. Strong and resolute.
Alone in the control room, I monitored the camp, flipping views. Just everyday life, but endlessly fascinating.
I clenched my fist—then released. Fingers. Screen full of residents' lives. Point and command; it happens. Buildings to erect, jobs to assign, rules to set for them. Daunting workload, heavy responsibility.
But right now, I savored the surging euphoria wrapping around me.