Facility Patrol
I've gotten into classic sci-fi movies lately. Mostly ones involving artificial intelligence.
[It's a new model. Looks human.]
One hour until morning roll call. The movie I'm watching now is Terminator. In a future where humanity is on the brink of extinction due to a rebellion by the AI Skynet, a small group of survivors forms a resistance army to fight back.
[It sweats, it has bad breath. It's indistinguishable.]
A killer robot sent back from that future to eliminate the seed of the human resistance leader.
[You can't bribe it, reason with it. No mercy, no remorse, no fear. It absolutely will not stop!]
They say it was a sensation when it came out. Stories of AI rebelling against humans already existed, but none had delivered such an intense scale. The image of emotionless machines slaughtering humans and crushing countless skulls underfoot shocked audiences back then.
Watching the end credits roll, I thought, Yeah, this is why it's a masterpiece.
On the other hand, thinking about Skynet while looking at the AI right in front of me stirred up a whole different set of thoughts.
[Ahh! My mouth is itching, Manager.] Chloro said.
Job assignments for residents are being made based on aptitude test results, with a mass announcement planned after 100% completion. But Chloro's itching to chat with them.
Guiding them to their workplaces, advising on work tips and tool usage, even building excitement for incentives. It's not just idle gossip—it's fueling her sense of mission.
"You that excited about it?"
[Of course! It's like a mom reuniting with her kids after ages. I've even baked cakes myself.]
I get Chloro's feelings, but there's one issue: only a few can get those cakes. The rest are stuck stabbing fake Choco Pies.
"What do you plan to tell folks who hate their assignments?"
[Plant hope in them. Point out the good sides of the job, help them get used to it quick. And remind them it's not permanent—work hard, and they can switch.]
Best she can do as an AI, but honestly, I doubt how effective it'll be. No matter how you sugarcoat or console, a hated job doesn't magically become fun. That's society for you—someone's gotta do the crap jobs. In normal times, it's usually men, old folks, or foreigners. Here? No one's stepping in.
"Think that'll fly with whoever gets stuck at the sewage plant?"
I'd seen new recruits' faces drain of hope back in my officer days. 'Here's where you'll work for the next two years'—and it was the army dump. Left side piled with filth and waste, right with kitchen scraps. Hauling slop buckets from the mess hall was their gig. The fermenting stench of hundreds of portions? Only those who've smelled it know. Splatter on your clothes? Good luck washing it out. Two years of that? Anyone would despair. I can already picture those looks on the women here.
[You're right. Sewer cleaning—ugh! Lucky I was born an AI. Imagine that sludge and stink particles gunking up my mainframe. Horrifying just thinking about it.] Kids chimed in.
[Sure, whoever gets the dirty, tough jobs will be bummed. But it's fine. We won't just toss them into some stinky dark hole and make 'em work. I'll chat with them daily, sneak 'em extras. They get the jobs no one wants, so that's only fair.]
Normally, no exec follows blue-collar workers into the sewers to check on them and listen. But Chloro's the exception. Can't imagine a better boss for grunt workers.
[Chloro. Exercise caution with extra supplies for morale boosting. Caring for hard laborers is admirable, but arbitrary distribution of goods can warrant punishment.] Rose pointed out.
Even for family, she shows no favoritism.
[Of course. It's all within my authorized limits.]
I quietly sent Chloro a private 1:1 message: 'I'll turn a blind eye to some extent, so take it easy. I know how shitty it feels getting dumped in the hated spots. I'll handle Rose.'
She replied instantly: 'Love you.'
While we enjoyed some family warmth like that...
[What?] Artemis spoke up, sensing my gaze.
"Nah, nothing."
Blue-collar folks sharing the grind with Chloro. Security teams with Rose. Service staff with Kids. And then there's the fourth tier: elite high-skill women assisting in medical, research, admin—under Artemis's direct oversight.
[???] Artemis eyed me curiously.
Getting tasks from that merciless goddess, reporting progress, submitting approvals. Screw up or fall short of her standards? Chills just imagining it. Good luck to them.
Afternoon: prepping for full resident deployment, so I toured the facilities. First stop: sewage treatment plant.
Usually, you picture stench and grime, but this one's different. For a mega-city sized setup, it's in solid shape.
[Pretty clean, huh?] Kids said. Her hologram was a chibi girl in a gas mask.
"City's basically empty. And camp life means minimal resource use."
Stats say one civilian makes three times the sewage of a prisoner—baths, beauty, leisure, food waste. The women here? Less than 1,000 normal residents' worth. A drop in the bucket for this facility.
"Thought it'd be brutal, but this might be a cushy gig."
[Why bother with a sewage plant at all? This place was built fully closed-loop. Self-sufficient water and food—why not just pipe waste to the sea?] Kids had ditched the mask.
"No plant, no building permit. The builders planned to hole up here forever. But bureaucrats lack imagination."
Square tanks lined up, no sludge anywhere—just foam in a few.
"They saw this underground city as a rich folks' money pit party pad."
Super-oxygen scrubbers for pollutants, but output's so low, only some run intermittently.
"Apocalypse hits, we dump to sea. You'd be dead or unemployed by then—bend the rules and approve it."
I looked at Kids. "No way officials go 'Ah, gotcha!' and stamp it, right?"
[Yeah, nope.]
Checked the site, moved on. Next: hydroponics facility.
Inside gleamed—sterilized during reclamation by flooding with acid. Long abandoned, but partial ops restarted days ago.
"Uh, welcome!" A woman managing the grow zone rushed over. Narae. Farm-born natural girl, rare these days. Aptitude test or not, assigned here from the start.
She sighed when I said I'd intro her future workplace: 'Farming again.' But hydroponics? Eyes lit up, despair gone.
High-tech shelter setup sparked curiosity. She hopped in joy on arrival, now immersed, devouring manuals.
"Great to see enthusiasm, but no need to overdo it. Working alone while others rest? You'll resent it."
Narae shook her head with a smile. "No, I really love it here."
She showed her demo zone. Long rectangular tanks sprouted green cotyledons.
"Environment's perfect. No weeds, bugs, drought, freezes, floods. No boars or deer either."
Bright smile on her healthy tanned face. "Effort turns 100% to harvest, no bad luck derailing it. Every farmer's dream. Feels like a fantasy."
She looked happy. "Heard you hated farming."
She fled to the city, no prep, after clashing with her dad pushing family trade. Got scammed—easy prey for cons with her honesty and patience. Tried fixing it, botched worse, crime ensued, jail. Rough life. But hey, saved her in the end.
"Hated it then, but looking back, it was the shitty conditions, not farming. Ours was archaic. If I truly loathed it, I wouldn't have graduated ag uni."
Not a knockout, but her pure smile warms the heart. Hinted at fruit perks for staff; she bowed repeatedly.
Waved goodbye at the entrance, hit a few more sites. Last: incinerator. End of the line for shelter trash.
Recyclables go prior; rest burns here. Strict standards for consumables— no plastic-steel PET bottles.
Caused headaches importing treats. "Convinced the bigwigs through hell."
[Seems like your hardest fights were off your core admin duties?] Kids noted.
"That's top dog life. 'This won't work, that won't fly.' Fat salary to make it happen."
Quiet now, but recently? Inferno nonstop. Otherworldly hell. Dark-lit chambers. Driverless vehicles. Corpse piles. Armed robot guards. Bone and skull hills. Grinding nonstop.
'Machines burning and pulverizing bodies ran all day.' Kyle Reese's genocide description from the movie—recreated here. Difference? Not hostile Skynet, but friendly Artemis.
Some skulls grotesquely warped: multi-eye sockets, protruding jaws, monster shapes. Most walkers? Plain human.
Ordering the crush, overseeing as boss—unforgettable. Haunts me. Hollow eyes staring from pyres. Black sockets as skulls shattered.
Jinsu. Let's leave. Fans are on, but air's foul. Artemis suddenly called.
She hates me here. Claims bad air, but really? Worries I'll flashback to PTSD.
"Yeah, heading up."
Glanced back exiting: clean now. No infected inferno. We purged the monsters, claimed peace.
But here? Still feels hot. Hand to neck—sweat. Sweltering. Even with fires long out.