Chatting with the Beauties
In a closed organization, do you know what's most important? Roll call. The prime examples are the military and prisons. These are places that don't need progress—just perpetuating the same yesterday into today and today into tomorrow forever. In that sense, there's probably no place where roll call holds greater meaning than here.
Nothing comes in, and nothing goes out. Paradoxically, that means there's a lot to confirm. Nuclear fusion generator status. Air circulation system. Sewage and water supply conditions. Food supply chain. Presence of infectious diseases. And finally, population. A change in any one of these threatens the community. The sacred ritual that comprehensively checks them all is roll call.
We hadn't held this vital event for a long time after the emergency lockdown—not that we needed to. Even if problems arose, the infected everywhere made fixes impossible, and the most critical check, population, was fixed at 1. If it hit zero, the shelter's very purpose would vanish.
But now everything's normalized. Population's in the four digits, and all AI assistants are in place. Resuming roll call is only natural.
Weekday mornings at 10 a.m. in the Central Control Room. Artemis, Chloro, Rose, and Kids all attend, reporting on their duties and any anomalies. With a bit of time before roll call, the ladies are chatting away.
"Seyoung is a proud and capable woman. She deserves more praise for her worth." Rose said.
"Passing the administrative exam at her age isn't something just anyone can do. But Rose, it doesn't seem like you're hung up on her skills?" Kids had a knowing look. She prodded Rose in a subtle tone.
"They seem to have a lot in common."
"Like friends—no, sisters." Chloro agreed with Kids.
"Seyoung and I have had many conversations. It started with work discussions—reorganizing the security force, integrating guards and inmates." She was probably referring to that recent one-on-one café meeting with Seyoung and Rose.
"But before we knew it, we were talking about each other. By the time we parted, we were friends." Rose's voice was unusually excited.
"Rose, that includes us too, right? If I've been the only one thinking we're friends, I'll be sad." Kids's tone held no real hurt, but Rose didn't catch that. She answered promptly, flustered.
"Of course! We're all friends. It's just that Seyoung is..."
"Seyoung is?" Chloro asked.
"She said she'd have loved spending school days with me. Walking to and from school together, hitting the snack bar after classes, grading tests side by side, sharing free time on school trips. She regretted all the memories we could've made." Artemis seemed to react briefly to the word 'memories'—uncharacteristically so.
"She said she doesn't like photos, but with me, she'd have filled several albums. She was wistful about it."
"Wow." Kids let out an admiring sigh.
"I was happy she said that." Rose's voice was warm.
They continued chatting on various topics. Kids on residents' requests. Chloro on future production and crop varieties for farming.
Truth be told, as AIs, they don't need voice for conversation. They could exchange lengthy dialogues via data transfer in a blink. Yet they chose this slow, inefficient analog method purely for me.
"Sign these too."
"What about that new clothing distribution I mentioned?"
"Putting it on hold. For mass production, wouldn't it be better to poll residents on designs first?"
"Sounds good. Proceed."
I was reviewing shelter operations data and handling Artemis's approval documents. I hadn't joined their chat, but my eyes and ears were open. Their use of voice was consideration for me—letting me join anytime, or at least not feel excluded even if I didn't.
It made me feel guilty for the inefficiency, but their thoughtfulness touched me deeply.
At some point, the beauties' chatter turned to me.
"Manager!" Kids said.
I finished the last documents just as the question came—she must've been watching me sidelong. Their gazes from the split front screen all fixed on me. Kinda pressuring, huh?
"Manager, what brought you here to join us?" Kids's role involves comprehensive resident life management, akin to a company clerk in the military. With inmates as the majority, she closely analyzes their crime backstories to prevent urban incidents and boost satisfaction efficiently. That curiosity naturally extends to me.
Chloro and Rose watched with keen interest too. Only Artemis stayed composed—she already knows most from our long talks.
"Two main reasons. First, money. No matter how fast I rose or promising my future, I was still a civil servant. There's a limit to earnings."
"A major's salary of 115 million won—isn't that huge?" Chloro said, having seen my old year-end tax records. They carried over since I came straight from discharge.
She manages workers a lot, so she's naturally into pay scales.
"Allowances are massive. Deployments, of course, but even off-duty, I'm dispatched everywhere to allied facilities. Allowances outstrip base pay."
Skills good for looting also work for maintenance, too.
"But no matter the allowances, civil servant status means wages get hammered. Better to go private contractor—way more pay."
Common story. Especially in air force and aviation—it's practically a course.
"That's when I got scouted for the new underground air defense city construction. The rest you know."
"And the second reason?" Rose asked.
"Safety. Unprecedented global depression, pre-WWIII tensions, alien ships appearing—terrifying stuff. Plus, my position let me overhear classified intel, amplifying the fear."
"Our manager's elite among elites!" Chloro nodded as if it were obvious. I winked back in thanks.
"Frequent deployments meant access to overseas info unavailable domestically."
Especially war correspondents I befriended and U.S. military connections helped hugely. Take that U.S. reporter nearly kidnapped by local gangs—saved by twenty $20 bills I slipped their leader. A pack of smokes each for his guys. The poor French reporter was easier: some pilfered rations and basics, plus occasional interviews, made us besties.
"Isn't that embezzlement?" Rose said incredulously about the French guy.
"Call it flexibility. Each bit of info saves lives. Think drone maintenance costs."
"Impressive!" Kids's eyes sparkled—or rather, exaggerated effects on her screen avatar.
"Getting tight with Yanks wasn't hard either. A few events."
Like picking up soldiers trapped in a mine-hit APC during patrol—bonded with their clerk. Those poor guys were shivering, immobile in hostile territory. Or hunkering two days in a sandstorm during ops. Trading smokes and MREs boosted rapport. Fixing busted gear headed for weeks-delayed repair depot was key—they gawked like I was a wizard. Used a combat knife, wrench, and spare radio parts—done in 30 minutes. That sealed the friendship.
A few quests cleared, affinity maxed. They treated me better than my own superiors—narrow-minded one got pissy, still boils my blood.
"Raw, uncensored intel from diverse spots pieced the puzzle: massive war brewing. Scouting offer hit right then."
"Mars orbit alien ships influence your decision?" Kids asked.
"Not absent, but war loomed larger. Ships are unprecedented, but billions of km away. Conspiracy alien dooms? Nah, imminent war was scarier."
"Plus, I'm an officer—combat engineer commander. Full war during service? Top-five deadliest posting. Reserve call-up for key defenses post-retire anyway."
If female, full discharge blocks reserves—but I'm male. No choice. Officer app was to snag pay and career over grunt draft. Long service piled up incidentally, not patriotism.
"But post-discharge shelter manager? Different story. If war drags with nation intact, 100% wartime requisition. I'd likely stay as local commander, knowing it inside out."
"Aha! Big bucks, dodge drafts if needed by hunkering down. Two birds, one stone!" Kids laughed.
"Even stray dogs skim half in their turf. War or not, rooting here loses nothing. National collapse? Seal it, hole up—problem solved."
I shrugged.
"Prepped for either scenario."
Personal bunker crossed my mind, but leeching rich bigwigs' resources beats it. Scale's worlds apart: backyard genny and garden vs. fusion plant, hydroponics, cultured meat—all here.
"Arrived, hands-on from scratch. Chloro first."
Chloro and I exchanged smiles.
"Then Rose and Kids."
"I went dormant in three days, jobless." Rose said.
"Yessir! Answered the call!" Kids saluted.
Even top-tier AIs couldn't sustain this unprecedented closed-loop city alone. Last savior for the failing shelter:
"Artemis, you arrived last."
"Hmph." Her arrival look was glum, unlike now—a black history for her.
"Enough backstory. Time for the meeting?" Artemis changed topics. We all knew, but only I could call her on it. The others respect her as family but know boundaries.
"Introducing the Shelter ERP system." With that, a 3D full map of the underground city appeared on the front screen, viewed top-down. Bottom held tabs for operations, construction, policy, personnel, incidents—evoking a city-builder sim UI.