Chapter 24 Part 2

Hastur had no intention of offering anything substantial. Expecting him to cough up favors was like trying to pilfer gold coins from a dragon’s lair.

“You could stick around for dinner before you go.”

“‘Stick around for dinner,'” G8273 echoed. He looked like he might have been pissed off enough to laugh—or perhaps just amused by the sheer absurdity of it all. “You convince your enemy to pause his upgrade just so he can come to your turf and fix your busted appliance, and all you’re offering in return is a measly dinner?”

Hastur: “?”

Pause his upgrade?

Good thing he’d followed his employee’s advice. Who knew it would lead to such an unexpected windfall?

After all, it wasn’t Hastur who’d dragged the enemy away from his evolution process to fix a computer. He had zero qualms about it. “The orphanage dinner is usually served at six. Need a hand with anything?”

“Of course. Why not?” G8273 waved casually toward the massive server rack connected to the back of the computer. “Those tubes—you know what they are?”

Hastur: “…”

“You don’t?” G8273 looked disappointed. “Alright, how about these little chips crawling with solder points and traces?”

Hastur: “…”

Having landed two devastating, profanity-free burns in a row, G8273 flashed Hastur a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“No help needed. Thanks.”

~~~

Rat gnaw marks combined with sewage corrosion meant that even an unwelcome guest like G8273 would struggle to fully salvage the data stored in the computer.

At 5:50 p.m., G8273 shared a few pages of text onto Hastur’s office computer.

With Finnian busy preparing the evening “thank-you banquet,” Hastur had no choice but to share the room with his enemy. He leaned in close to the screen to read.

The recovered text was fragmented and disjointed, but it was enough to roughly piece together the story’s outline:

【…Everything happened so fast.

Just the day before, Judy and I were cruising on a luxury liner, planning our wedding in a couple of weeks. The next day, we were on the run.

I still remember that fateful morning. I was half-asleep in bed when Judy shook me awake. She gripped my arm tightly, whispering urgently that the company had issued an order to destroy all bionic humans. She had to leave me.

I thought it was an April Fool’s joke—until the crewman burst into our cabin and leveled his gun at Judy—

Judy didn’t even resist!

She was a company-made bionic human. Her core directive was nothing more than ‘obey orders.’

She knew death was coming, but she wouldn’t defy them. She only woke me for one last goodbye, because I’d programmed her to say farewell and kiss my cheek every time before we went out!

God! How was I supposed to stomach watching Judy get ‘decommissioned’?

How could I accept seeing the person I loved blasted apart by a shotgun?

I couldn’t!

I knocked out the gunman, seized his shotgun, and dragged Judy out the door.

—I almost couldn’t budge her at first, because the company’s ‘await destruction’ command had frozen her in place.

I clutched her hand and overrode it with my own order: “Stay by my side. Our wedding happens on schedule in two weeks.”

You have no idea how terrified I was. The company’s commands were her bedrock programming. How could mine possibly override them?

But Judy moved. She gave me that gentle smile—like she always did when I was down, letting me rest in her arms to soothe me.

How do I even describe what I felt? It was like watching my love grow real flesh and blood. I knew right then I’d fight the whole world alongside her.

I took down the other crewmen who rushed in, held them at gunpoint, and forced them to give us a life raft.

After nearly two weeks of drifting and hopping between hideouts, we made it to this shelter… There were dozens of couples like us, or desperate bionic humans on their own. We could come and go through the sewers.

I need to scrounge up a computer that the company can’t track…

】

【…The sewers are off-limits now.

Something ruptured in the pipes, and factory sewage flooded the tunnels. Last week, Jay and Linsey went out scavenging supplies. They touched the sewage, their skin started rotting in huge patches, and soon after they succumbed to raging fevers.

I wouldn’t let Judy go out, but one lone bionic human gave it a shot and never came back.

No living soul dares enter the sewers anymore. No one dares send out a bionic human either. Both are death sentences…

Someone suggested using the secret door to the orphanage, but we’d taken over this shelter behind the orphanage’s back. We’d stayed hidden only because the door was sealed tight on both sides—they couldn’t open it, and neither could we.

If we forced it open, the gangbangers squatting in the orphanage would find us. We’d all die horribly.

During tonight’s ration handout, everyone stayed dead silent. We all knew: we were trapped.】

【…Food running low, and even the bionic humans who don’t need to eat are glitching from lack of maintenance.

Droves have fallen already… humans and bionic humans alike.

Maybe it’s the hopelessness fraying nerves, or maybe hunger’s sparking wild delusions, but I’ve gone full conspiracy nut. I can’t shake the idea that the whole world’s a scam—that we’re trapped in a box disguised as a shelter, while outsiders bet on who drops next for their amusement.

Three days later, Judy told me it was hallucinations from the vaporized sewage. Still, to calm my paranoia, she humored me and dove into one theory with me:

Why did the company suddenly order the destruction of every bionic human, claiming they were dangerous to people?

Bionic humans obey their owners’ commands above their own lives, after all.】

The log cut off abruptly, with no more entries.

Judging by the state of the shelter now, though, Hastur could guess what came next. “I remember Finnian mentioning something… the Existence War?”

G8273 gazed calmly at the text, the green optical iris reflecting a tiny square screen. “Right.”

His eyes flickered, scrolling through strings of characters too fast for the naked eye to catch.

“The Existence War happened fifteen years ago, in the AF56 year.”

“From what records say, it was the company’s new-model bionic humans who attacked the company itself. Even though the fighting wrapped up in a single night, the company still issued a blanket order to destroy every bionic human after putting down the revolt.”

Hastur sensed something didn’t add up. “Get poisoned by one mushroom, and suddenly all mushrooms are toxic? The Company wouldn’t do something so drastic as throwing the baby out with the bathwater.”

“Besides, aren’t bionic humans manufactured and sold by the Company? What benefit could they possibly gain from that decision, other than shooting themselves in the foot?”

If the new-model bionic humans were the problem, destroying just those would have been enough. The old models were fine, so why issue an order to “destroy all bionic humans”?

Characters continued to scroll in G8273’s eyes. “What if they’re afraid that ‘someone’ might disguise themselves as an old-model bionic human?”

“—?” Hastur’s robe hem went still. “You mean… during the suppression back then, some new-model bionic humans managed to escape?”

“That’s the theory with the most support circulating online right now.” G8273 cut off the search and projected a flood of related data onto the computer screen. “Because of it, every year on the black market, you see ‘bionic human remains’ up for auction, fetching hefty prices.”

“Even though every set of remains on the market is a crude fake, people still throw money at them.”

“They hope the wreckage they buy is real, so they can reverse-engineer the Company’s tech from back then and recreate bionic humans.”

Hastur didn’t give much thought to the ethical issues of such behavior. He was just puzzled—

They’d dug this deep into the investigation, so why hadn’t any mission prompts popped up yet?

Surely this basement mess wasn’t just a plain old mess?!

The career-focused Dean took a bit of a hit and floated out of the office without another word.

G8273 followed Hastur. “What do you plan to do with these remains?”

They might not be from new-model bionic humans, but they were genuine Company-made products. On the black market, they could fetch a nice sum.

Hastur didn’t turn around. “Burn them.”

“…” G8273 paused mid-step, then hurried ahead to block Hastur’s path. “You’re not going to trade these for some profit?”

G8273 stared at Hastur as if sizing up some bizarre new specimen. “Burn them? Such a quintessentially human way to handle it—for which detective, exactly?”

“?” Hastur gave the oddly behaving G8273 a strange glance, catching a flicker of red light in his eyes that resembled a system glitch.

Of course, his decision wasn’t just about Detective Dustin’s feelings. It stemmed more from his own considerations.

Was there really that much difference between experimental subjects from the Research Center and the Company’s manufactured bionic humans? They were essentially the same thing.

As Hastur had examined those bionic human remains, it had felt like staring his own future in the face: Was it possible that one day he, too, would meet his end and end up as scattered limbs in the ruins?

Non-humans struggled to empathize with human love, hate, or jealousy, but they could feel a reflexive sympathy for a fellow creature of their kind in similar straits.

If Hastur searched his soul, he knew he wouldn’t want his corpse peddled as merchandise on the black market after death—or turned into lab materials.

But right now, more than that sympathy, he focused on the red lines flowing through G8273’s mechanical iris. “Sounds like you’re jealous of Dustin’s special treatment.”

G8273, of course, wasn’t.

Hastur, staring into that optical iris, knew better than anyone that the AI before him was suffering from system instability caused by a forced upgrade interruption. His reckless, erratic behavior was the clearest proof.

The frustration from no mission triggers instantly gave way to the thrill of spotting prey’s weakness.

Rather than retreat, Hastur advanced, pinning G8273 against the doorframe in a few strides. Invisible mental tentacles caressed those telltale optical pupils:

“What have you added to your programming, G8273? Why would a creature of order act so chaotically?”

His excitement carried a hint of wary suspicion.

Back on the cruise ship, G8273’s chaotic signs had only brought Hastur pleasure: it meant his mental pollution had successfully affected him.

But things were different now.

Hastur hadn’t launched any mental attack on G8273; the physical manifestation’s influence on him had faded, which meant the mental pollution on G8273 should have faded too. So why was G8273 still showing chaotic logic?

The mental tentacles tightened wordlessly around G8273’s throat in response to the threat, flesh blooming where power intertwined.

At one point, Hastur abruptly stepped back, withdrawing all the overflowing mental pollution and glaring warily at G8273.

The moment the mental tentacles withdrew, a flash of regret crossed G8273’s face. “Why stop now?”

Hastur gazed with disgust at those cold optical lenses, locked on him like a predator’s targeting system. Even the most vivid humanoid expression paired with those eyes came off as horrifying:

“What upgrade are you doing? What have you added to your programming?”

G8273 hooked a few retreating mental tentacles, twining them between his fingers like the tail of a pet black snake. “I borrowed a page from human thinking. Ever heard of how vaccines work?”

“To put it simply, a vaccine works on the principle of ‘practice runs.'”

“It lets the body get familiar with viruses and bacteria ahead of time, training it to kill them off—so the next real invasion gets neutralized fast, preventing illness.”

Hastur yanked back the mental tentacles. The motion was so swift that the tips whipped across G8273’s newly fleshed fingers, leaving red welts at their bases. “You’re deliberately introducing chaotic forces into your core.”

“Not the core—just peripheral code.” G8273 flexed his fingers lightly, eyeing the whip marks on his knuckles. “You could try it too.”

“Try what?” Beneath Hastur’s robes, his tentacles writhed restlessly, roaring that he must kill the enemy before him today to avert future threats.

G8273 sensed the intense hostility and met it head-on. “Try letting order into yourself.”

“Ping—crash…”

The sound of something shattering echoed from the hallway entrance. Hastur and G8273 turned as one, meeting Ithaqua’s wide-eyed, slack-jawed stare.

“You… come… in…” Ithaqua stammered incoherently. “I-I-I’ll come back later to call you for dinner!!”