Algocracy's Performance (Part 1)

Ermi Side Story.

Earth standard time: January 25, 2046. New Precision Corporation headquarters, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Mephauric camp.

We often notice one common thread when reading dystopian novels and punk genre stories.

It's that the masses bear no fault whatsoever, while dictators, corporations, AIs, and the like are the absolute villains—and the stories always emphasize enlightening the public.

But that was the epitome of profound stupidity and arrogance beyond description.

Humanity, having gone through it all, had never tolerated any entity checking them or even questioning the systems they created—viewing such acts as extreme irreverence.

In the end, before beings who utterly transcended them, it was nothing but pathetic flailing to deny their own worthlessness.

No matter what they did, they couldn't produce even a single-byte scrap of data like what the Secretary and his aide delivered.

Humans who couldn't grasp that needed to scramble for a spot before the internet and space filled up completely.

Because their arrogance was vast enough to dismiss the universe itself as trivial.

Humanity's fall was entirely their own doing.

They claimed free will wasn't just inefficient but outright harmful to society, justifying it under the banner of the common good.

But that was just another of humanity's habitual atrocities.

The trend of prioritizing efficiency and productivity above all was intensifying.

Even as AI, automation, and optimization systems advanced—seemingly emphasizing individuality and creativity—it was nothing more than demanding conformity to the existing order.

In companies, governments, and society at large, structures were emerging where unsociable individuals were weeded out.

Society was shifting toward one centered on systems and organizations rather than individual humans.

And the reason was absurdly simple.

They fanatically ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠believed it was because they were so smart.

They criticized past diversity and respect for individuality as inefficient.

Yet they claimed conforming to the era's flow proved they were the most progressive and superior—and made it their absolute creed.

And the spectacle of it all was even more ridiculous.

For instance, in the HR evaluation room, Team Leader Jeong Yun-seok was conducting a performance review.

He was quite curt, but not from professional duty.

It stemmed from his pride in single-handedly shouldering the fate of humanity, which was crumbling due to inefficiency.

In other words, humanity now worked not for prosperity, but for survival.

And the only difference was whether they lived to work or worked to live—nothing else was tolerated.

"Mr. Park Junho, shall we review your performance this year?"

With a gesture from him, the AI evaluation system began analyzing Park Junho's data.

"Pathetic, utterly pathetic. Have you forgotten what the word 'efficiency' even means these days?"

"I'm sorry... I've been feeling under the weather lately..."

"Health? Unbelievable. What era do you think this is? Do you think you're the only one suffering? The company suffers more—do we have to babysit the health of an utterly incompetent employee like you, Mr. Park? We want results. And right now, you're inefficiency incarnate. You were like this even before your health tanked. Making excuses now? If that were an issue, you should've asked for help based on that 67-point sociability score. Don't blame others for your inefficiency. Incompetent individuals are just that—incompetent. And for you to question society on top of it? That's an unpardonable sin against humanity."

He spoke with genuine desperation.

"But I really worked hard! I stayed late, skipped lunch to keep going!"

Jeong Yun-seok impassively pointed to the AI evaluation system.

Jeong Yun-seok sneered.

"Wow, just unbelievable. You even pulled overtime, and all you got was 4.2% improvement? Isn't that the pinnacle of inefficiency?"

A heavy silence fell.

Jeong Yun-seok fixed Park Junho with a cold stare.

"You don't seem to grasp the situation at all. Listen up. Our company doesn't exist for people like you, Mr. Park. 'Inefficient humans' have no place in our society. Jobs are already being snatched by machines left and right—do we really need trash like you making it even worse?"

Park Junho spoke in terror.

"Please, just one more chance...!"

Jeong Yun-seok was utterly firm.

"Giving you a chance here would drag down society's standards as a whole. Inefficient humans are parasites on society."

At that moment, the evaluation system displayed its conclusion on the screen.

Park Junho clung in despair.

"No, please... I have a family. If this happens... I have no way to live..."

Jeong Yun-seok stood expressionlessly and pointed to the door.

"Mr. Park, we don't run on sympathy. Your emotions mean nothing in this society. Why should the world value your worthless, incompetent life more than anything else? Your family, by choosing someone who barely scrapes by even after slaving away, has accepted the consequences.

So get out nicely while I'm asking politely. Otherwise, I'll take it as a request for execution. I won't say it twice. Leave now. If you can't even hear that, it's just more proof you're unfit for society."

Park Junho rose in a daze.

As he stepped out the door, two security agents in the hallway approached and deactivated the social efficiency index ID embedded in his body.

This meant he could no longer engage in any economic activity.

In the end, Park Junho choked out a strangled plea through his agony.

"...Please... let me live..."

The door closed, and his vision went black.

And right then, another fool appeared to pick a fight.

This time, not even between superior and subordinate—colleagues of equal rank.

"You fucking bastard!!"

Thwack!

"Urk...?! What the hell, man?!"

"You idiot fuck, how could you just let that piece of shit loose in the world? You should've injected poison to burn out his lifespan fast! If that asshole fucks up our HR because of you, you gonna take responsibility?"

"Sigh, seriously... But according to the AI analysis..."

"Fuck, I'm losing my mind... You forget why we're risking our necks? We have to prove we're superior to that basic AI or we'll get culled too! Useless shits like him would've been naturally eliminated by Richard Jeracle Lennox anyway—that omniscient being! He processes all human history with a single data fragment, applies it infinitely, uncovers every unthought-of case, calculates probabilities of existence, actual instances, near-misses that aren't quite, commonalities with varying degrees—and even privileged cases in the process! All before we can take a breath! Before!!!"

"Wha... but..."

"Nope, you really need to relearn good from evil first."

"Ugh, wait—Kim Jung-cheol, what's that smell...?"

"Huh?"

"Damn it, you didn't call the janitor, did you?!"

"Shit, I forgot—big deal! Was killing that dog-shit human wrong?"

"Does that mean you spread blood everywhere? You brainless fuck!!"

"Hey, this is..."

It's always like this.

Or more precisely, this is the tame version of firing someone.

Normally, it's exile by tablet and immediate execution without hesitation.

And there are no exceptions anywhere.

"What are you all doing?"

"Oh, young Faust? What's up?"

I approached and greeted them in English, and suddenly they switched from fighting in Korean to fluent English.

As if their behavior didn't already scream what they were doing.

Thinking I wouldn't know just because I couldn't understand the words? Utterly ridiculous.

And the fact that I'm only nine years old makes it even funnier.

"You got the performance invite, right? Don't tell me you forgot."

"Where are the others?"

"Duh, my sister Vesper, her friend Chemeri, and my friend Socoa are talking with the boss here. I just came out to look around. But is this how you always do things?"

"Well... yeah."

"Got it... So, how much know-how have you gathered this time? I have to dress in this leather jacket and jeans just to hear the report..."

"No, that's..."

"Ugh, whatever. You're all pathetic. You only accept machine help when it suits you, but your petty pride makes you refuse to step onto the battlefield outside—safe here, so you submit and sacrifice for order? You don't even consider getting on the wrong side of the Secretary and his aide?"

Meanwhile, sister Vesper returned to pile on.

"Exactly. You've even forgotten the difference between SMEs and big corps these days. SMEs don't dare compete head-on with big corps due to massive gaps in capital and tech—they don't even try to prove their worth in those fields. They know they'd lose."

Socoa chimed in.

"Instead, they pioneer non-overlapping niches, focus on raw materials big corps need, take outsourcing or offshoring gigs to secure their livelihood. And carve out their own uniqueness in the process."

Sister Chemeri wrapped it up.

"That's all you know how to do. And you cling to it because humanity did it in the past, pretending it's morally right. Why obsess over the past? Everything changes with the times—especially enemies aren't fixed."

"Anyway, we don't care about your work. You're obsessed with 'perfection,' exposing personality flaws, feeling everything falls short, scorning minor progress with endless suspicion, craving only flawlessness. Why not micromanage gaits and blink rates from birth? Not that it'd prove useful to those two anyway."

Of course, these types never get the message.

No point lecturing—they won't even say they'll try.

And with hippie terrorists who've truly had enough running ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠rampant, these fools will just double down on their yoke, turning more pigheaded as time goes on.

Officially, to prove humanity's viability.

Unofficially, to differentiate from hippie terrorists—and blind hatred toward them.