Resemblance

By the time I stepped out of the lockup, the moon had long since risen. Streetlamps stood at thin, irregular intervals, lighting the road back to the coop.

Humans from the Geofront.

Red uniforms. The first Geofront people I had ever laid eyes on. Someone I'd crossed paths with before might have been hiding what they were — possible enough. As far as I knew, though, these were the first humans from underground I had actually met.

Not quite what the Old Man told me.

I'd heard they possessed magical tools that belonged in a novel. Wigs you could recolor however you liked, for instance. Why anyone would spend technology that astonishing on nothing more than a wig, I couldn't say, but by the Old Man's account, pouring ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠your strength into useless things was what peace looked like. In any case, the red uniforms were probably the lowest class even the Geofront had to offer. No distinguishing traits, which would be why they were the ones sent up to the surface. Even so, the fact that they had come up at all was a major incident.

A will to tighten their grip on the surface.

It began with this very operation — driving the desk officers out of doors. The aim wasn't only to thin the numbers. There would be an intent to strengthen control as well. It didn't look like control by fear, though. What they were after was probably sameness.

I had thought the words in that directive were bullshit. Having lived through them, I found my mind had shifted, if only a little. Because of Dr. Myeong.

The change she went through out in the world was something she never could have known, had she spent her whole life inside the Complex. Dr. Myeong, whom I had believed incapable of changing, had shown a side of herself that hadn't existed before — and in the space of a few days. A brief change, of course. She had returned to her post, and she would go back to being that same person who never compromised. But the promise remained: she would look after the Waste Disposal Squad. Proof that she was a human being with room left to change.

A scanner sat wherever the lamplight fell. One of them licked over my body on an invisible wavelength. The streetlamps ran only during the recommended return hour, just as they were doing now. It wasn't exactly a curfew. Even so, the same bedtime and the same hour of waking were recommended to everyone.

All of it exists to control people as conveniently as possible.

It wasn't simply a matter of fencing in the hours a person was allowed to move. The time you spend awake and the time you spend asleep shape the way you think, and what you can do changes depending on whether it is day or night. Live any life you like before you arrive here — lie down at the same hour, rise at the same hour, and keep at it — and little by little a resemblance starts to form. That is what culture is. You never become an identical person. You do, gradually, become the same kind of Korean, the same kind of Seoulite, the same kind of person from Yeouido. The small divergence that opens between you and who you originally were is what builds your likeness to other people.

Scanner two. It would look like a small difference, of course. But that difference stacks itself higher every day. A person's way of thinking is not finished overnight — best not to forget it. If a thing happens day after day, then it is never a small difference.

Scanner three. Once people grow similar, they become easy to control. It has nothing to do with right and wrong. This is a question of efficiency. What I knew for certain was that Dr. Myeong, having gone outside and come back, would be an easier human to control than she had been before. Set their intentions aside for a moment. Why do any of this? What were those bastards underground afraid of?

Scanner four. On the way to Coop 202 I had passed four scanners in all. Was that a sufficient number to control a person like me?

"So? How was it, seeing Teacher in person?"

"He's handsome."

"I know, right!?"

"......"

"Anything besides that?"

"I started wondering why you like him, Instructor."

"Hm? I already told you all of it, didn't I?"

It wasn't a story he had heard only once or twice. Min Yeo-jin had always praised the Postman until her mouth went dry. Cheon Su-hyeon had never listened closely. He had assumed that somewhere in all those stories, the real reason ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠simply wasn't there — and not because he couldn't trust Min Yeo-jin.

Because Cheon Su-hyeon himself was exactly the same. Being able to talk all night about why ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠he liked her only meant he could run his mouth on whatever nonsense came to hand, from morning until night.

"You want to hear it all over again? That, I could talk about all night if you want!"

In that instant a vast fear broke over Cheon Su-hyeon. The reason Min Yeo-jin liked the Postman — the fear that it might be the same as the reason he liked her.

Coop 202, once again. I lay straight down on the bed.

Comfortable.

To me, the whole of 202 was nothing but a comfortable place to sleep. Which is to say, the most important space in the world.

Stare at the white ceiling and a few faces rose, then faded. Tonight's leads were Elder Heo, the Gentleman, and two sentries I hadn't even had time to give nicknames.

Elder Heo's had been a happy enough death. Whether the life had been happy, I couldn't say, but the end, at least, hadn't been bad. I'd buried the finger exactly as he'd wanted. If not for me, who could have buried it in a place like that?

The problem is the core Elder Heo left behind.

Too unsettling an object to leave sitting out in a cabinet, so I hadn't taken it from the bag. Use it and you were guaranteed a core-appraisal ability — while whatever life you had left shrank to a single year. A thing that made no sense from one end to the other. For now, I would simply carry it.

The visit to the Human Meat Factory had paid well. I'd gotten on familiar terms with Tata, a man who held real power, and better still, I'd secured the right to trade with them exclusively.

A shame I never delivered Gyeong-su's letter.

I'd considered leaving it with Clock-out Man, but a thing with a story of its own ought to be handed over in person. Next time I had cause to pass nearby, I would take it along. Something else weighed on me more.

The bomber drones.

They had already built no fewer than twenty, and I hadn't been told that was the end of it. Once trade with me smoothed out the supply of materials, producing beyond that would be entirely possible. A weapon that could strike the Complex from the comfort of a settlement, simply by being sent into the air. Not enough to take a country. Enough, though, to throw the Complex into chaos. They had said that, for the present, they had no intention of launching them anywhere. When those aircraft someday climbed into the sky, I hoped I would not be waiting at the destination.

There are so many. If I asked them to sell me just one, would they?

......Too much to hope for.

In any case, if Tofu learned of this, she'd be gutted. Still — the wish to put an aircraft into the sky had been fulfilled. She was a kid who had cared more about launching a machine heavenward than about being freed from slavery. Clock-out Man clearly couldn't see the appeal at all. I could. If someone told me to choose between a ticket to the Geofront and a boarding pass for the subway, I would take the subway a hundred times over.

Come to think of it, that was the first time I'd ever set foot in a subway station.

The train couldn't run, but I'd had the chance to board it all the same. Some things only find their way into dreams after you've lived them. I'd spent a good full day inside that station; I'd be grateful if it came to me while I slept. And if it did — preferably with the repairs already finished. Preferably with no boss-class creature in the picture. The same went for the Gentleman and the two sentries.

Come to think of it, among the people who had traveled with me this time, the dead outnumbered the living. Only Dr. Myeong and the stationmaster had barely made it out. The Gentleman, the two sentries, and Elder Heo were dead. Fair to call the thing a curse. Wasn't I the one who had survived to the very end — a survival instructor when I was a Hunter, a field commander of the Lemming Unit when I was a soldier? It would be no exaggeration to call me a master of staying alive, and yet the people beside me died without a struggle. A life better suited to solitude, and yet—

I failed the mission. They'll send me out again.

With another two desk officers tacked on. Could I bring every one of them back alive this time? Preferably people who, even if they died, would not be the sort I'd have to meet in a dream.

Who are they going to make me take.

No answer in thinking about it. I didn't expect the choice would be mine in any case. I barely knew a handful of desk officers to begin with. The odds of being assigned one of them were next to nothing.

"Hah."

Close my eyes now, and it would be a nightmare. A crowded dream, maybe, for the first time in a while. Better than having them arrive one by one.

Early morning. Winter had come into the director's office.

"Director?"

"......"

"Director Bae?"

The secretary did her best to thaw the frozen man, but—

"Do we really all have to go out? Isn't there any way? Well? Director!"

—she herself was on the verge of freezing.

"......If that is the policy of the state, then we will have to follow it."

"Sending every last one of us out — does that even make sense? The other agencies aren't going this far. Why is it only the post office......"

In truth, a problem larger than her own deployment was waiting. Family. Bae Guk-jang's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠wife and daughter were slated to be thrown into the missions as well.

"Director, isn't there some better way? If it's money, I'll give you as much as you want!"

"Well......"

"You have a way to survive this somehow, don't you? Please, tell me!"

"There could be no such thing."

"Even the family you cherish so dearly is about to be sent out, every last one of them, and you're telling me you have no way?"

It was not that there was no way at all. Put the connections he had built and the vast funds at his disposal to use, and a method might yet present itself. Or he might be assigned a mission whose odds of survival were, comparatively, safe — finish the little outing, and come back whole. Or he might attach himself to someone hardy enough to guarantee that he lived.

One thought bit the tail of the next, and at the end of the chain he found Woo Jungkook. A man he was raising, with himself as the sturdy backer behind him. The reason the two of them had gotten along this far was simply that he had been careful to smooth Woo Jungkook's way. From Woo Jungkook's side as well, Bae Guk-jang had to be indispensable. If the director wielded that fact as a weapon and asked for help, Woo Jungkook would have no room left to refuse.

"Director! You do have a way to save your family, don't you? Couldn't something be done for me as well? Just one more person — just me! Whatever you want—"

Those words from the secretary drove the director to a swift decision.

"So we try asking Jungkook, then?"

For the three Jo siblings, the hour when they would have to step into the outside world was closing in, one second at a time.

"If it's Mr. Jungkook, I feel safe."

"I will ask. I cannot promise how it will turn out."

"What about showing a little sincerity? I was already thinking it would sit wrong to ask empty-handed. Isn't there something we could offer that would actually be of use to Jungkook?"

Three siblings with nowhere to turn but Woo Jungkook.

"As it happens...... there is one thing that might interest Mr. Jungkook."

"What kind?"

Jo Yong-han drew his hidden card.

"Suppose I were able to pull strings, so that before long he could go to the Geofront. What would you say to that?"

He had decided to try drawing out one of Woo Jungkook's deep-rooted desires.