Nanomachines, Rookie!
It's nanomachines, rookie! .......... When I was human, I read something similar in a magazine once. About how doubting your sense of self causes regression to the most primal instincts. For thoughts, that primal instinct is the same as the main body's purpose. Absorb, grow, devour. For an android to philosophize about emotions and spiral into an existential crisis... It's absurd, but this might just be the worst crisis I've faced since becoming this body. I could turn a single strand of hair into a perfect cube against threat entities or human armies, but I can't fix the turmoil inside me the same way. This time, I can't just knuckle-rap them into line like usual. That's not what they need right now.
As the little thoughts' faces began twisting into masks of madness, I approached them. I laid my hand on their trembling crowns and stroked gently. Kindly, just like my attachment humans did for me. Yeom Hana's hot palm, Han Min-seo's cautious touch, Lee Gyu-rin's friendly pat. Recalling those memories, I kept my hand light—stroke, stroke.
[……!]
The little thought being stroked flinched. Its fingers, wriggling to turn into tentacles, froze. Its cheeks, sprouting teeth, rounded out again. The others hesitated too. The waves of madness rippling through the mindscape sloshed, then began to settle like receding tides.
In the quieted mindscape, I spoke.
Don't worry. For better or worse, I'm a former human, you know. Sure, I ended up like this after accidentally observing Mom, but... Anyway, out of all the egos in this mindscape, I'm the one handling the humanity. A former human's emotions are real, so that makes all of us—you included—real too. The feelings we have aren't fake.
......That's the little pep talk I gave the kids. But honestly? I have no idea either. I said a former human's emotions are real, but can you really slice the line between real and fake emotions like with a knife? Still, I think that very imperfection—the fumbling around without knowing every universal truth—is what makes it human. So it's fine.
The one I'd stroked sniffled and looked up. The others rose one by one, glancing around as if checking each other's faces. I spotted the glasses-wearing thought and the doctor-robed one locking eyes, sighing in relief. I mimed wiping sweat that wasn't there with the back of my hand.
Phew. One crisis down.
……………
Cheon Jung-sa brought his gear from the Gwanaksan battle. A Power Suit with an insect-like helmet as its signature feature. The high-mobility armored plates combined with the goggles gave it the look of a bipedal insect—or maybe a tokusatsu hero—more than a human. Two Vibrating Knives at his waist, two Railgun pistols holstered on his thighs. It overlapped with the image of him back then, grinning as he swam through bullet hell to plant bombs on a Walker's joints.
He'd been smiling then. Not now.
I wish this attachment human could just forget the past and live on forever. But for a man who's lost everything, that's probably too much to ask.
The mindscape was quiet too. The little thoughts, who would've usually been clamoring "It's a Rider Kick!" in a frenzy, were huddled silently today. Maybe the existential crisis hadn't fully faded, or maybe they'd sensed what Cheon Jung-sa was about to do. Probably both.
I trailed right behind him. I wanted to stay by his side until the end.
Dusk settling over Seoul. Skyscrapers piled from glass and steel. Two letters etched into the hexagonal emblem above the main gate: Cheolung. The same crest buried in the dirt of his razed home.
The Cheolung people probably never imagined they'd get revenge just for leaving that emblem as an example.
Cheon Jung-sa stopped and turned. A strange serenity hung on his visored face.
"Little miss. I still don't get what you are... but thanks for the help."
His Power Suit-clad hand stroked my head. Stroke, stroke.
"But you should head back now. This ain't a sight for you... A ton of people are about to die."
I just looked up at him without answering. Even if the android maid—Ciel's core was destroyed beyond repair, as long as she lived, a good connection might come someday.
Through his stroking palm, Cheon Jung-sa's emotions flowed in. This—well, it's awkward for me to say it directly, but there's no other word for it.
It's fucking bullshit.
Cheon Jung-sa lost his home—his entire fortune—to Cheolung Group's retaliation. He thinks it's really, really, really fucking bullshit. He thinks the chaebol who wrecked his everything in an instant with a casual "click" is fucking bullshit. He thinks his own situation—losing it all in a snap—is fucking bullshit. He thinks this world, this Korea where such bullshit is possible, is fucking bullshit. So he's gonna make those bullshit bastards suffer some bullshit before he dies too. That's this man's resolve.
Dumb as a rock, maybe. But kinda cool. Is this what they call hardboiled?
"......Guess talking's off the table, huh."
Misreading my silence, Cheon Jung-sa gave a lonely smile. His helmet's visor dropped, hiding his face. The Power Suit's back boosters ignited at low power, and he rocketed straight toward Cheolung Group's main gate.
Of course, I—as the purple slime girl—followed in his shadow.
I told you already. No matter what you do, I'll watch till the end. This Outer God Girl keeps her word.
[Didn't you actually say that out loud...?]
Hush.
……………
To sum it up, it went like this.
Cheon Jung-sa breached the main lobby in under five minutes. Eight guards blocked him, but he zip-lined three out of commission, then Railgun-pistooled the rest who kept coming. From the lobby to the fifteenth floor: emergency stairs. No elevator. He cleared each floor's security one by one, burning through one Vibrating Knife in the process. He picked up the guards' weapons to resupply as he climbed.
Fifteenth to twentieth took the longest. The defender there was no joke. A tall woman in a dobok, no Power Suit. She sliced Cheon Jung-sa's Vibrating Knife clean with what looked like a plain kwando.
An awakener? Or one of those Communist-Magic Cult types from China?
[Whoa, she's mid Giga-rank at least, easy. This is dangerous...!]
The sharp-eyed thought clenched its fist.
After a brutal clash, Cheon Jung-sa punched a Railgun round into her side and broke through—but at a steep cost. Two piercing wounds in his abdomen from her blade. One even gashed from his shoulder blade straight to his heart. And yet he stood.
My infused energy forcibly knit his severed muscles and organs, forcing his failing body to move. No telling how long it'd hold.
Dripping purple blood in globs, Cheon Jung-sa finally reached the top floor.
And I—slipped slickly through the chairman's door just ahead of him.
In the spacious room, decked with luxury leather sofas and dazzling chandeliers, stood a massive bear of a man evoking a slab of dough. That must be Cheolung Group's chairman, Ma Hyuk-su.
"Lord Dusk! This isn't what we agreed on!"
Ma Hyuk-su bellowed at a floating blue hologram, veins bulging.
The voice from the hologram, by contrast, was leisurely and drawling.
"Ahh, my apologies. My misjudgment."
Leon Dusk. Ruler of Nikola. Tech-feudal lord of Texas. I'd seen him in a TV docu before—the owner of that zombie-packed-street country.
"I never imagined I'd invest in trash who lose to pathetic IT scraps, then can't even stop a single non-awakener merc."
"Lord Dusk—!!"
Leon Dusk in the hologram smirked slyly, lighting a cigar.
"Should've known better than to trust a single-digit billionaire wannabe."
"You fucking showboating son of a bitch!!"
The chairman's curses exploded as the hologram cut off unilaterally.
Bam!
He slammed the desk; the steel bent like taffy.
Whoa, he's pissed. But no amount of swearing reaches Leon Dusk across the ocean. Getting dumped by the boss sucks, company or not.
Then the chairman's door shattered inward. Cheon Jung-sa boot-kicked his way in.
The gazes of the over-two-meter giant chairman and Cheon Jung-sa locked. Power Suit caked in blood and flesh, purple glow flickering from abdominal holes. Even faced with Cheon Jung-sa's mangled state, Chairman Ma didn't flinch.
"Ha. Pathetic. To get pushed this far by a single bug."
In response to the mockery, Cheon Jung-sa answered with action. His body sprang like a spring, booster-thrust propelling the Vibrating Knife straight at Chairman Ma Hyuk-su.
Claaang!
But the instant the blade met pecs, a sharp metallic ring echoed. No blood—instead, a flash. The knife couldn't even scratch the chairman's chest.
Riiip, riiiip—
The chairman's suit tore open. Beneath, nanomachine particles glowing blue spread in hexagonal patterns across his body.
"Nanomachine Suit, bug. Custom import straight from America."
The chairman grinned beast-like, grabbing the embedded blade barehanded. Crunch. The concrete-slicing Vibrating Knife shattered pointlessly.
No time to gape—his fist cleaved the air.
Boom!!
Cheon Jung-sa's body flew like a cannonball, smashing into the marble wall dozens of meters away. His chest plate crumpled inward with his ribs—visible even from here.
Yet.
Cheon Jung-sa shoved the debris aside and rose. My purple energy wrung his shattered body beyond limits.
[…….]
The sharp-eyed thought bit its lip. The little ones watched silently.
Cheon Jung-sa drew a Railgun pistol, aiming at the chairman. Opposite, the chairman—upper body sheathed in blue nanomachines—tossed his tie and advanced.
Cheon Jung-sa's finger squeezed the trigger.
The chairman's foot stomped the floor, charging.
The distance closed between them.