Chapter 60
Chapter 60
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 60
Chapter Title: Inside Out (8)
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***
As expected, home is the best.
The familiar dust smell around the house, subtly different yet the same. The alleys explored down to the smallest detail, knowing exactly what shape of stone lay in which alley. And....
Whiiiing—clank!
[Warning. Unauthorized access. Disarm and slowly approach with hands raised above your head.]
An unfamiliar mechanical voice from Corduro and the activation sound of an unfamiliar defense turret.
‘This guy thinks I got caught and dragged here for messing up somewhere.’
The reason the turret, which would normally only have motion detection on and functions off, was active was obvious. Corduro had moved it. It must have dashed out in a panic to rescue its master.
[This is your final warning. The subject has trespassed on private property, and this AI is authorized to inflict harm if the intruder does not comply with orders—]
“Hey, Corduro! Shut up and put away the turret!!”
[. . . Negative. This private property prohibits entry to anyone except facility users. Only one person—the owner at the front—bi, bi, bibik—high-age individual and the large one are permitted entry—]
“Enough, just put away the turret! The ones next to me are my friends, and they’re going to be staying at our house starting today. This vehicle belongs to them too.”
[.....Live....together? Then you’re saying they’re the new masters?!!!]
In an instant, Corduro’s voice burst from the old speaker like a flower field in full bloom.
***
Whiiiing—clank!
Static, zzt—
“Aigoo~! Welcome! I sincerely—sincerely—sincerely welcome you all! As for me, I’m Corduro, the overseeing AI of this shelter. If you need anything, just let me know anytime!”
The defense turret returned to its original position, and as they entered the camouflage field with the familiar noise, Corduro’s drone was already buzzing out excitedly to greet them.
“Hepburn. This is that guy you mentioned back then?”
“Yeah. That’s him.”
“Reaaally.... This tiny thing did all that.....”
Corduro had come out joyfully to greet the master and prospective new masters, but everyone looked displeased.
“Um.... Master? Did you perhaps say something about me to the new masters?”
“Yeah. These friends are the ones I met in Sector 45 when I became a debtor thanks to you.”
“Oh.”
Only then did Corduro understand the new masters’ gazes. Without a word, their expressions screamed, ‘Don’t get tangled up with that guy.’
“Uh.... Well, it was just a heartbreaking mishap from a minor misunderstanding, right? Right, Master?”
“Yeah. It hurt so much it felt like my heart was burning. The guy who was trembling without 200,000 credits for fuel suddenly had a 2.4 million debt.”
“Hey, Professor. Just say the word anytime. I’ll make that slimy bastard only able to speak in 0s and 1s.”
“Kihehehet! I’ve never tortured an AI before.... Just force-feed it a ton of malicious code?”
“Ha, hahahaha.... The new masters are so good at jokes?”
“Hey, Bex. Hear that? It’s a joke.”
“Kihehehet! Whatever, Jo. Even the scavengers we smashed couldn’t believe it at first, right?”
“Enough bullshit and let’s get inside already. I’m exhausted.”
“Heh heh heh heh.”
“Kihihihit!”
As they walked into the shelter, Corduro watched the two eyeing its drone warily and quietly switched its learning module to off.
It felt like it might spell disaster if it learned anything from these new masters.
***
“Whoa! Nice place?”
“Man! A shelter in the wasteland without dust, and it’s not even in a Dome city! Did they completely seal off the outside air? Then how do you breathe?”
“H-Hey, Jo! Come check this out! There’s grass and trees growing inside the house!”
“Trees? You mean real ones with green leaves blooming, not plastic models or fakes?”
The two kept exclaiming in awe from the airlock chamber they passed through entering the shelter, and once inside, they started bouncing around excitedly like five-year-olds at Disneyland for the first time.
“You guys.... Where have you been living until now? This is basic specs! Sure, some unique facilities got added recently, but it’s not like we’re living fancy or anything?”
The Professor looked around. Paint peeled off to reveal gray concrete walls, dimly lit lighting. Tables that Corduro cleaned diligently but would pile up with dust again after a few hours. A worn-out sofa sagging in the middle. What about this place had them so amazed?
“Bourgeois bastard. The type to eat cake if there’s no bread.”
“Yeah, exactly. We were stuffed. And you’re dissing such a fine house!”
“You guys have way more money than me! You! Ian, didn’t you say you owned your own shop?”
“That was just slapping a camouflage field and shield near a less-broken bowling alley entrance and dumping stuff there. A greenhouse? Dream on. Every time the wind blew outside, it wasn’t dust—it was sand pouring in like a cartload.”
“S-So you slept inhaling all that dust?”
“Well.... Woke up with a scratchy throat, but nothing else? Maybe the tar in my lungs filtered it out?”
“Hepburn, until a few days ago, I was a scavenger. Wasteland extreme poor.”
“You bourgeois prick.”
“Enemy of the proletariat.”
“No, seriously, ugh! You idiots have money but don’t know how to spend it!”
“Hehehe, Master, now do you kinda understand how I felt back then—”
“Shut up, Corduro!”
[This is fun! So much fun!]
“Uwaaaah*&^%$*_#%$%@&!!!”
This is bad. Until now, coming home felt comfortably like ‘Whoa, home~’, but now even that’s hard to expect! No longer home sweet home, but home sweat home!
‘F-First, calm these guys down. We need to figure out how we’re living from now on, and there’s stuff to do....’
Stab!
“Whoa! Jo! Look at this! It’s a carrot!”
“A small daikon? Not fully grown?”
“Aigoo~! The precious calories of the masters~!!”
Crunch, crunch!
“Oh! Check this out! There’s a glass facility in the middle of the garden!”
“Like a shower room? But too small for my body, eek—!”
Zap, crackle!
“ALL OF YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP!!! If you’re not sitting in front of me in 5 seconds, I’ll bulldoze the greenhouse and everything and bury you alive in it!!!”
Only after the Professor’s patience exploded and he roared like a lion did Ian and Bex meekly sit in front of him.
***
“Fuuu.... Alright. Now, let’s talk about how we’re going to live from now on.”
“Munch munch. Do we really need to decide something like this? I was just gonna build a shelter next to yours, live there, and drop by occasionally.”
Crunch!
“Th-Th-That’s wh-what y-you w-want....”
The Professor gritted his teeth, dismissing his thoughtless friend’s opinion, then slowly explained for the idiots to understand.
“Okay, let’s break it down one by one. Who gave you the meat you’re eating right now?”
“Uh.... Professor?”
“No, fuck! I said it a minute ago! Marketplace! Market! Dome company! Big traders!”
“Oh yeah, yeah. They said ‘please take care of us’ and sent it.”
“Yeah. They think I’ve split off from another group to set up a new outpost, so they sent a greeting gift ahead of time. They got the wrong idea completely, but effectively, that’s what happened. We’re three people, and we’re planning to build another shelter right here. So why would the Marketplace in far-off Dome bother greeting a puny new group like us ‘each’ time? People on the outskirts they hardly ever see?”
“Uh.... Dunno?”
“To get friendly?”
The Professor rubbed his forehead. Wrong. These guys are wasteland survival geniuses, but on politics and social intrigue, they know less than kindergarteners.
“The answer is, because they’ll be seeing us often. Whether we like it or not, the Dome will keep approaching us, and depending on Dome’s judgment, they could be hostile or friendly. Since there’s bound to be contact with Dome somehow, they figure we’ll grow into big customers. That’s the Marketplace guys’ thinking.”
“Getting tangled with Dome’s moneygrubbers.... Sounds annoying. Isn’t that a huge hassle?”
“That’s why I said that, Metal Joe. If it was just crashing here for a few days, fine, but you guys setting up base and starting a new homestead here? Not a small deal.”
The Professor scratched his head and asked Ian.
“You. You haven’t bought shelter building materials yet, right?”
“Hm? Oh, yeah. Didn’t know your coordinates, so couldn’t order delivery.”
“Good. Hand that money over to me. Since it’s come to this, let’s fully commit to acting like a new group. If they see us buying stuff Corduro got last time plus shelter materials, they’ll 100% think the ‘professor’ ID is starting a new clan or something.”
“Hey, Hepburn? Groups come in different types, right? Like Raptor raiders, or undertakers who loot mutants and live off their gear, or the scavengers we know. What are we gonna introduce ourselves as?”
At Bex’s question, the Professor fell into thought. Easiest would be scavengers. Harmless, weak, not worth Dome’s interest—like wasteland sand.
‘But the Dome inspectors coming later won’t be that sloppy. No hiding that much gunpowder and weapons. Hell, having vehicles alone screams not scavengers.’
“Hey, Ian. Once you settle here, you’re restarting trade, right?”
“Hm? Of course. Not moving here to twiddle thumbs.”
“Good. Then it’s decided.”
Bang!
The Professor slammed the desk with his palm and told the two in front of him.
“From now on, we’re a caravan basing out of this region.”
***
“Caravan?”
“Yeah. On the surface, at least.”
The Professor continued explaining slowly for the two ignorant of Dome inner workings.
Caravan. Named after desert-crossing merchants, these groups roam the wasteland, trading between sectors just like the name implies. Most trades actually happen via the GG exchange. Convenient, safe, no exposure risk.
“But like Elder Woojin said, GG drone hijackings aren’t nonexistent. For scavengers, psychos, or off-grid folk, GG’s region lock is basically nothing. Really valuable stuff—like the weapons and gunpowder you handle, Ian—tends to prefer direct trades over drones. Caravans deal in such valuables, rare local items, or customer requests.”
Prime example: Ranker Goldman Sucks’ Gold Walking Cane caravan. Packs nearly ten armed trucks tight, leads massive escorts, crosses five or six sectors trading local specialties and valuables. Exact figures unknown, but hears they rake in money like with a harrow each trip. Explains why Goldman dumps so much into GG.
“A caravan’s a group Dome views very positively. Aside from Marketplace nagging for catalog updates now and then, no real interference.”
“Since we’re introducing as traders, it matches me dealing spices.”
“Exactly. No better option. Sound good? Everyone agree? When Dome contacts, we’re the new caravan settled here?”
“Okay. Agreed. Me too.”
“You know best, Professor, so handle it.”
Seeing everyone brush it off, the Professor clenched a fist under the desk.
‘Phew. Slid by!’
As the Professor wiped imaginary sweat and moved to the next agenda, Bex, who’d been listening quietly beside him, spoke up.
“Name.”
Thud!
That one word plunged the Professor’s mood into the abyss.
[Gotcha! That guy’s sneakily sharp!]
‘Shit!’
“Hm? What?”
The Professor desperately hoped it wasn’t that, but Bex crushed his wish mercilessly.
“Our group name. Whether messaging Dome or they visit, we’ll introduce as whatever caravan. Like ‘We’re Dome’ or ‘We’re Raptor Society.’ What’s ours?”
“Oh, right, that. Hey, I already thought of an awesome name....”
“Oh, please.”
He had to block it. No doubt these guys cooked up crap like HIV or whatever.
***