A Calculated Bluff
The battle against F was turning into a war of attrition.
Three days had already passed since my home was blown to pieces.
Pus seeped from the wounds where shrapnel had embedded itself. There were still far more shards buried beneath my skin than the ones I had managed to pull out.
I didn't even have the luxury of worrying about the throbbing pain as I fled from alley to alley.
The main things to avoid were the CCTV cameras.
Keeping my head low beneath the walls to stay out of sight, I slipped from shadow to shadow, barely managing to find my next hiding spot.
It was a gap between buildings, a warehouse that looked like it had been abandoned for ages.
Having suddenly become the prey, I focused on healing my wounds while taking extreme care to stay off F's radar.
Augmented soldiers were famous for their rapid recovery rates, but with shrapnel still lodged inside me, that healing factor became a curse. Every night, I had to tear open my own flesh to dig out the shards. I was constantly gouging open wounds that had only just begun to knit close.
"Your inflammation levels are off the charts. At this rate, your liver is going to give out first."
But right now, there were plenty of things far more pressing than my liver or inflammation.
Healing was important, of course, but I was facing a much more immediate and severe crisis.
"I'm starving..."
I was running dangerously low on calories.
I had money, but I couldn't go to a restaurant. There were CCTV cameras at every single entrance to the market.
Seriously, there used to be barely any cameras in the civilian sectors—so why did they suddenly seem to be everywhere now that I was the one being hunted?
I survived by breaking into houses in the civilian residential areas.
There was no other choice.
But even that was reaching its limit.
Other households were starting to run out of food as well.
"I'm going to starve to death at this rate..."
Since I burned over three times the calories of an average human, skipping one meal brought on dizziness, skipping two triggered hypoglycemia, and going a full day without food put me on the brink of death.
I had to secure food somehow.
Should I just close my eyes, buy a massive batch of gukbap, and run for it?
But I heard rumors that even the gukbap places are stopping sales because ingredients aren't coming in...
Just then, the roar of a mob echoed from the end of the alley.
"Waaaaah!"
"Loot it! Damn it!"
"They aren't even feeding us, so screw the company! We have to eat to live!!"
A massive crowd of rioters was surging in one direction.
It was the direction of the Maetan cafeteria.
I pulled up the collar of my jacket, wrapped the towel I had used to wipe my blood around my head, and blended into the mob.
The cafeteria I used to frequent had been completely trashed by the rioters.
Windows were shattered, and pots rolled across the street. Broken wooden tables were repurposed as makeshift weapons by the mob.
It was the third day since F had infiltrated Maetan.
Intra-Maetan was still offline.
Even those with physical cash were starting to run out of funds.
Due to constant security concerns, keeping large amounts of cash on hand had always been considered a dangerous practice in Maetan.
To make matters worse, the collapse of Intra-Maetan had completely paralyzed logistics.
Food supplies destined for local shops had ground to a halt, piling up at the distribution hubs with nowhere to go.
The fury of citizens whose lifelines had been severed finally boiled over.
The security guards stood at the cafeteria entrance with rifles raised, but the rioters vastly outnumbered their bullets.
Besides, they all knew each other.
In a city like Maetan, everyone was connected by two or three degrees of separation.
They were faces you couldn't bring yourself to shoot. It was a hunger that weapons couldn't suppress.
After firing a few warning shots into the air, the guards helplessly stepped aside. And just like that, the cafeteria was overrun.
I slipped inside the cafeteria along with the rest of the crowd.
Suddenly, I thought of the cafeteria lady who always gave me an extra scoop of rice, calling me the "young man with the big appetite."
"I feel bad for her... looting her workplace like this."
"That lady is standing right behind you, Uncle."
I turned around. Sure enough, the lady—wearing her usual kitchen uniform and a mask over her face—was standing on top of a long dining table.
"Rice is in Warehouse 1! Meat is in Warehouse 2! Loot Warehouse 2 first! Don't bother going past Warehouse 6, that's just tableware! Hey, is this really the time to be stealing vegetables?! Grab the high-calorie stuff first!"
She was pointing all over the place, actively directing the mob. In her hands, she clutched bags stuffed with various seasoning jars.
"Man, this feels so therapeutic! Those cheap chefs always bitched at me to scrape every last drop of seasoning... Once you're done looting, head to the plaza! We're having a massive feast tonight!"
I grabbed some high-calorie synthetic butter and protein bars that didn't require cooking, then slipped back into the alley.
I really wanted to eat the food she was going to cook, but the plaza had CCTV cameras. Not only would F spot me, but if F attacked, innocent bystanders would get caught in the crossfire.
"Your wounds are healing too slowly."
Just as CC said, my recovery was sluggish. The combination of burns from the explosion and deep puncture wounds from the shrapnel, coupled with my poor caloric intake, was taking a toll.
"It'll heal eventually."
Having finished my meal, I got moving again.
Over the past three days, I hadn't stayed in one place for more than an hour.
This constant movement was another factor slowing down my recovery. But since I had no idea when F might ambush me, I had no choice.
Still, at least I had eaten my fill for the first time in a while.
I endured the pain, digging out more shrapnel from beneath my skin until night fell.
"Uncle, another message came in today."
At CC's words, I looked up at the night sky.
A light was blinking from a building in the center of the city.
To my eyes, it was just a flickering light, but CC, who could detect the slightest variation, recognized it as Morse code. The sender... was F.
F was reaching out to us.
'To the recycling factory.'
"He's getting impatient."
It was the same message as yesterday and the day before.
Maetan wasn't entirely incompetent, either.
According to what I'd overheard among the rioters, Maetan had spent the last three days narrowing down the list of users who hadn't logged out.
Apparently, only four people remained on that list now.
It was only a matter of time before they located F's host.
"But if that happens, my data might leak to Maetan..."
That was a real possibility. In fact, it was highly likely.
I might have to settle this tomorrow.
"Uncle, the Morse code message just changed."
"It says... 'You will regret this.'"
I was long past the point of regret.
"He's telling us to look at the CCTV."
The next night, F's Morse code message changed again.
"CCTV?"
"Yes. It seems there's something he wants to show us."
"If I access the feed, will he detect us?"
"Probably not. We're just tapping into the raw CCTV data stream without any authentication... Do you want to take a look?"
"I was planning to make a move today anyway."
Earlier this afternoon, the security forces had shot a man dead in one of Maetan's back alleys.
He was one of the names on the list.
I approached a camera from its blind spot and grabbed the cable with my prosthetic arm.
Countless CCTV feeds flashed before my eyes.
"Ah."
A camera feed showed the recycling factory that had caught fire.
In the middle of the factory, where the flames had yet to be fully extinguished, a small figure was squirming.
A delicate-looking boy who looked barely past ten years old.
"It's Kang Yeolchan."
...
In the center of the vast factory warehouse, Kang Yeolchan lay with his hands tied behind his back.
He was merely unconscious. His chest rose and fell in slow, steady breaths.
How had he become a target?
I didn't think F had tracked Kang Yeolchan all the way from the Internet.
He must have spotted him while monitoring me.
"The restaurant..."
I recalled helping him when we met at the gukbap restaurant.
F had already been watching me back then.
Which meant this was my fault.
"What should we do?"
"What do you think?"
My physical condition was far from perfect.
I stood up, chewing on my last protein bar.
"We go save him."
The recycling factory was still burning.
The chemical-fueled flames couldn't be extinguished with water.
Though the roaring inferno had subsided, small, stubborn fires continued to smolder all over the place.
The factory was thick with toxic gases released by the burning chemicals.
The surrounding area was dead silent.
No one dared to approach because of the toxic fumes.
Thanks to that, I was able to walk right through the main gates without having to worry about being seen.
As I navigated through the lingering fires, the warehouse where Kang Yeolchan was being held came into view.
Standing a few paces in front of the unconscious boy, F was waiting for me.
He was in the body of a middle-aged man with a scruffy beard and droopy eyes.
Beneath the man's combat coat, a gleaming silver left hand was visible.
Of all people, he had to take over his body.
Captain Choi Gwangho of the 15th Mechanized Infantry Division, 9th Special Enhanced Battalion.
He was a veteran mercenary who had been hired by the Cradle Cult.
"Former United Human Forces, East Asia Operations Command, 8th Corps, 13th Independent Unit 'Shoeshine', Staff Sergeant Yoon Juhyuk."
F recited my military record using Choi Gwangho's mouth.
"I have determined that you are in possession of a Quantum Processor."
"That's right."
"I will now retrieve the Quantum Processor."
"Arrogant bastard."
As if I'd just hand it over.
"You have no choice."
F said, pointing at Kang Yeolchan behind him.
"Do you not value the life of this hostage?"
"An AI resorting to dirty hostage tactics... Don't you have any pride?"
"Such concepts are unnecessary for resolving the situation."
F took a step forward.
"There is no space to mount a processor in a neck-hub. Judging by this human's prosthetic arm, your Quantum Processor must be installed in your prosthetic. I will take it now."
"Stop right there!"
F stopped in his tracks.
He was surprisingly cooperative.
"If you don't want this hostage's life to be wasted, let him go."
"Have you lost your mind, human?"
F's lips curled in disbelief.
For an artificial intelligence, he was incredibly expressive.
I detached my left prosthetic arm and held it in my hand.
Then, I thrust the prosthetic directly into the flames burning beside me.
"What are you doing?"
"I've lived with this thing for a while, and I know one thing: these Quantum Processors are highly sensitive to heat."
"Futile. The thermal shielding of that prosthetic will protect the processor even inside a fire."
"Is that so? Then how about this?"
I jammed the tip of my combat knife into the elbow joint of the prosthetic and pried it open.
With a sharp click, the outer casing popped open, exposing the Quantum Processor inside.
"I doubt it'll survive direct exposure to the heat, will it?"
"Do you not care about the child's life?"
"Losing the AC series to an AI versus losing a single child's life—which do you think is a greater loss for humanity?"
"You speak of utilitarianism at a time like this?"
I gripped the prosthetic's hand as if shaking it and lowered it back into the fire.
A wave of intense heat began to creep up my fingertips.
"Make your choice, quickly. The thermal shielding on this arm isn't as great as you think."
"Do you have no human heart?"
"What does an AI like you know about humanity?!"
When pushed to the brink, humans can become infinitely cruel.
"Decide, AI. Will you release the hostage and save the AC, or will you let both die? I'll warn you, trying to rush me is useless. Choi Gwangho's physical specs are on par with mine. You'll never catch me in time."
"I have decided."
"Huh?"
F spoke with absolute certainty.
"I will kill you and retrieve the AC intact."
F—and by extension, Choi Gwangho's prosthetic arm—crackled with a brilliant blue light.
He was planning to use Neural Acceleration.
Since I had detached my prosthetic arm, I couldn't activate Neural Acceleration myself. I wouldn't be able to match his speed.
But this was enough.
I had bought more than enough time.
Pitter-patter-pitter-patter!
Having regained consciousness, Kang Yeolchan scrambled to his feet and bolted toward the back door of the warehouse.
"What?!"
F couldn't hide his shock as he watched Kang Yeolchan suddenly sprint away.
Just as F began to turn his body to give chase—
"Where do you think you're going?!"
I hurled the detached prosthetic arm straight at F.
The glowing, red-hot metal arm flew directly toward Choi Gwangho's face.
"Hmph!"
F caught the flying prosthetic with his left arm.
But he failed to track me, as I was already closing the distance right behind it.
"Haaaaah!"
Channeling all my forward momentum, I delivered a devastating flying kick.
Unable to raise a guard while catching the prosthetic, F was sent tumbling backward across the floor.
Yet, he immediately picked himself up and reassumed his stance.
Does he not feel pain? No, he must have cut off his pain receptors.
"Yoon Juhyuk. I commend you for rescuing the hostage. However, I have also achieved my objective. Just as you said, in a truly utilitarian fashion..."
"Are you sure about that?"
"...!"
F's eyes widened in sheer disbelief.
I picked up my prosthetic arm, which was crawling back toward me.
"You've been played, machine."