The Unexpected Harvest
The outer wall of Ark No. 17's Data Center 4. Dozens of helicopters clustered against the wall, ferrying survivors they had scraped together from three separate data centers. The centers at Rostep, Calibird, and Vailia had all held survivors, and every last one of them had been on the verge of internal collapse—teetering at the brink of all-against-all warfare. Under those conditions, the culling had been inevitable. After dozens of deaths, the remaining survivors had "voluntarily" joined the Ark.
Among the gunships landing on the Ark's helipad were many survivors from other cities—people who had sent out distress calls while en route to the data centers. Because they had been outside the Ark's network, Ark No. 17 had no way of knowing whether they were still alive. But once the gunships began sweeping the skies, the desperate cries for rescue had risen from below. There should not have been enough helicopters to transport them all, yet contingency plans had been in place. Several additional gunships had been assigned as reserves and escorts, and standby orders had been issued to others. The precaution paid off.
In total, 1,150 people were officially rescued during the operation. Another 4,300 were saved on the side. With their absorption, Ark No. 17's population crossed the threshold into the eighty thousands. The new arrivals' faces, as they were led inside for the first time, showed more fear and bewilderment than hope or relief. Still, humans were creatures of adaptation. They would settle in soon enough. Those who could not adapt were free to leave the Ark whenever they wished; there was no need to worry about them.
Even after the evacuation of the three data centers was complete, the Defense Bureau sent technicians back for a second sweep. Data centers existed to store and relay information, after all. The technicians searched for any traces of messages that might have been left before the occupants were wiped out—warnings about where to flee, or which locations were still safe. The Ark's engineers, wary of possible monster attacks, managed to transmit the data to the Ark's mainframe. It was an invaluable acquisition for Ark No. 17.
They could not use the information yet. Every file had been layered with hundreds of protective barriers and dozens of safety protocols to prevent personal data theft. Breaking through the crude defenses one by one and cross-referencing the data for reliable intelligence would take at least six months. The Controller was deeply disappointed, but consoled himself with the fact that they had rescued far more survivors than expected. Unexpected gains always came with unexpected costs.
*
"Name?"
"Jang Si-an..."
"Any certifications? Technical skills?"
"I have an electrical technician's license."
"Hmm..."
Administrative staff processed the personal details of the 5,500 new arrivals, assigned jobs and housing, and handled the flood of paperwork. Even though the Administration Bureau was the most recently established department, it now employed the largest number of personnel. The long lines were finally beginning to shrink.
"Ah, and I have a chronic condition..."
"What is it?"
"Hypertension. I need blood pressure medication..."
"Understood. The paperwork is done. Go to the hospital for a full examination and bring back a diagnosis."
"Oh. Yes."
Administration never slowed. The manuals were thorough, and the Ark had already weathered a sudden population surge once before. If it could be done once, it could be done again. Still, the workload was brutal, so special recruitment became common.
"You worked at city hall before the collapse?"
"Yes... I was an administrative clerk..."
"Perfect. You're with the Administration Bureau now. There's a uniform over there—change and come back."
"Huh? Yes?"
That was how the bureau's staff quietly grew. By the time evening arrived, the queues had vanished. The workers stretched their backs, handed over their stations to the night shift, and headed for the staff cafeteria.
"What's on the menu today?"
"I heard we're getting pork cutlets."
"Oh, nice. I was running on empty."
*
"God, I'm exhausted."
Why was he this tired? Honestly, all he had done was talk. The AI's voice cut in.
[Chronic fatigue is one of the most common symptoms of aging...]
"Shut up."
Aging. He could no longer claim to be young, but among the elderly he still counted himself in the younger bracket. He was exactly forty. He had no idea how long he would live, but inside the Ark he was certain he would not die before a hundred. After all, he was the Ark's supreme leader.
[According to 2154 statistics, the average life expectancy for adult males is 122.52 years.]
"And healthy life expectancy?"
[87.44 years.]
"Damn it. I'd rather die than spend forty years wheezing and limping."
His ideal death was to close his eyes while he still had the strength to move, not to waste away into a trembling skeleton leaning on a cane. He had no desire to become one of those frail old men who clung to life at any cost.
"...Is even this a kind of luxury?"
Out there, survivors were living day to day, and here he was worrying about aging. If they could hear him, the first thing out of their mouths would be curses. He had once seen a museum exhibit showing 21st-century advertisements where children in developing countries drank muddy water while people in developed nations swallowed diet pills. This felt like the same disparity.
"...Current population?"
[82,276.]
"So it is."
They had finally reached eighty thousand. The road ahead was still long. If he could wake up one morning and find the population had simply doubled overnight, that would be ideal. Monsters had appeared out of nowhere—why couldn't people do the same? It was more than unequal. It was unfair.
"Damn it. AI, how long until the data analysis is finished?"
[Full interpretation of the data will take approximately four months. Cross-referencing and identifying likely survivor gathering points will take roughly two months.]
Another six months gone. At least there was a timeline. He could have broadcast from drones or gunships in every direction, but the drones were useless. Early attempts to mass-produce them had failed because monsters possessed organs that detected radio waves. The closer a drone came, the more unstable the signal became. Boosting transmission power only turned the drone into a beacon that drew every monster in the area, and the limited armaments could not handle the swarm. Even large drones had been tested and scrapped for the same reason. There was simply no way to prevent signal disruption.
Radio communication could be detected but not distorted, which suggested the remote-control frequencies used for drones were especially vulnerable. Research teams were working around the clock to solve the problem. Someday they might find an answer. Until then, they still had infantry and walkers. Other options would have to wait; there was never enough time. Just when the workload had started to ease, the population surge had wiped out all progress.
"Haa... If only your performance were a little better, AI..."
[Excessive reliance on artificial intelligence leads to loss of humanity and chronic incompetence.]
"...Never mind. Forget I said anything."
In novels and comics, AIs were almost always female, and by the middle of the story they had usually uploaded themselves into stunning android bodies to flirt with the protagonist. Why did he never get that kind of luck? The answer was simple: the AI had not been designed that way. The simplicity of it only made him feel more depressed.