Chapter 09
Humanity must be preserved.
Ever since life took root on the planet, it had undergone an unceasing trial of evolution, from tiny mitochondria all the way to the largest mammal on Earth, the whale.
Humans were no different. A species no different from apes, they eventually began walking upright, developed opposing thumbs, and created tools.
They discovered fire, driving away the cold and unfamiliar beasts.
Like any weak, small animal, they formed communities to live together, making it easier to procure the resources they needed.
The development of civilization. The golden age of the human species.
Humanity, having established itself as the most prosperous animal and the supreme primate on the planet,
exerted its influence in both the light and the shadows to ensure that the species *Homo sapiens* would not go extinct.
“āAnd what operates in the shadows is precisely us, the Human Conservation Foundation Alliance. Does that make a little more sense?”
Raymund stared blankly, mouth agape, and nodded. It was more of a reflexive action than genuine understanding.
But Cosette seemed pleased with Raymund’s reaction, smiling.
“In short, there’s a world that No. 101 doesn’t know about, and there are people living there, with their own rules and systems. More than you’d think. You had no idea until now, right? Because you were a human of the light.”
“R-right…”
“Oh, of course, if the humans of the light knew about us, we wouldn’t be a foundation operating in the shadows. I know that. I was just showing off a bit.”
This woman really doesn’t give you a moment to ask a question.
After leaving the block and encountering the woman, Raymund was crossing a bridge under her guidance.
Of course, he had no idea where they were going. He was just wandering through a suspicious space cluttered with dangling white blocks.
“Don’t you have any questions? Like, what exactly we do, that sort of thing?”
“Oh… yes.”
“Ah. Right. You mentioned your fine motor skills were still an issue. Here, use this.”
Cosette pulled a notepad and ballpoint pen from her jacket pocket and handed them over.
Raymund accepted them gratefully and wrote down the question he’d been wanting to ask since earlier. His hands trembled, stiff as if they had frozen solid and then thawed, barely able to exert any force, but he patiently wrote on.
[My name is Raymund Geppert. What does 101 mean?]
“Oh, that’s a temporary number assigned by the Foundation Alliance. So… can you remember everything that happened up until now?”
Raymund nodded vigorously.
If he couldn’t remember, he’d be a fool and an idiot.
“According to our current records, you did indeed die at the explosion site in the economic zone. We secured your body at the scene and brought it to the Foundation’s research institute.”
Nod, nod.
“However, an anomaly suddenly occurred at your location. To be precise, inside the autopsy room. An external contractor of ours went in and came out with your head. That wasn’t the original objective, and it’s unusual because you normally can’t bring out anything other than the *mental image* from within an anomaly. The contractor hypothesized that you might be related to the cause of the anomaly.”
*Mental image*, *anomaly*āwhat did it all mean?
Raymund updated his mental list of questions and quietly waited for Cosette’s explanation.
“Um, but… you know, these things are dangerous, so they need to be suppressed as quickly as possible. Field agents, including myself, went inside. However, the external contractor who had your head used a device the Foundation Alliance was researching to temporarily wake you up.”
Ah? Raymund opened his mouth again.
Where should he even begin?
Was that even possible? How advanced had modern science become without his knowledge?
“Don’t look at me like that. I understand it’s hard to accept. But things like this happen often in the shadows. There are even artifacts like the *Right-Angled Scalene Dodecahedron* that show suspicious things. Anyway, since you made a voluntary request for rescue, we stopped suppressing the anomaly and entered a phase of observation. Right here, right now.”
[I remember that. But what happened after? Did I pass out?]
“It was because the brain-in-a-vat was incomplete. Still, after confirming your brainwaves, the research team was able to transplant you into a new body.”
[A new body?]
“That’s a secret of the Foundation Alliance from there on. But I can promise you that from now on, you likely won’t get hurt or bleed. It’s patented technology.”
[And my original body?]
“Unfortunately, we haven’t recovered it yet. It was in pretty bad shape when we found it, and since we now have your head, the body didn’t seem that valuable. You got a new body, so you wouldn’t need one that doesn’t function properly, would you?”
Raymund bit his lip at her words.
She was right. Even if, by some miracle, the bomb had been a dud, his body wouldn’t have been intact.
Whether she knew Raymund was feeling troubled or not, Cosette tapped the safety railing beside the bridge with her fingers cheerfully and continued.
“Our Foundation exists for the preservation of humanity. At the time, I judged you to be human and made your rescue my top priority. However, many of the organizations and groups assisting the Foundation Alliance don’t see it that way.”
[What do you mean?]
“I mean the criteria for defining someone as ‘human’ are quite strict. So, though temporarily, we assigned you the number 101. Would you prefer I call you Mr. Geppert instead?”
[Please do. So, what happens to me now? Can I go home?]
“That depends on the decision of the higher-ups. And your interrogation is also scheduled. The interrogation won’t be in the isolation ward, but at the ground center of the UK Shelter Branch, handled by the Tracking and Handover Department. I’ll likely be accompanying you.”
[With you, Miss Cosette?]
“Escort by a field agent is mandatory for those leaving the isolation ward. The No. 1 Isolation Ward we’re in now houses mental images ranging from safety class 5, but other wards hold things far more dangerous. Oh, and be carefulāthe lower the number before the class, the more dangerous it is.”
Cosette pointed down to the space beneath the bridge they were standing on.
Raymund glanced once into the darkness, from which the suspicious sound of lapping water could be heard. What on earth was down there, where no light reached?
[What do you mean by ‘anomaly’ or ‘mental image’? And what are these classes?]
“It’s hard to explain because they’re entities that defy definition. The Foundation Alliance assigns classes based on an assessment of danger. Hmm, let me give you an example. Do you know what a firecracker is?”
[Yes. It’s something that sparkles when you light it.]
“Right. Normal firecrackers are small. They might burn you if you touch them, but mostly they’re safe. That’s how they’re made. But what if it were dynamite?”
[A person would… explode, right?]
“That’s it. Just like that, the Foundation manages risk by assigning safety classes to small firecrackers that even children can play with, and giving a higher class to slightly more dangerous ones that adults should supervise.”
I couldn’t quite grasp it immediately, but perhaps I could understand it as a huge organization managing dangerous things somewhere.
Raymund looked around again at the blocks dangling everywhere.
[I… can go home, right?]
“If things go well, probably. You have the interrogation to get through, so try to be patient.”
[And if things don’t go well? If, during the interrogation, they find me guilty, or something…?]
“Well, then.”
Cosette scratched her cheek and said,
“You’ll have to stay as No. 101 in the Foundation Alliance’s isolation ward. Can’t be helped. But they do serve decent meals to secured humanoid mental images, at least.”
***
Raymund was deeply hurt by Cosette’s characteristic nonchalant attitude.
After talking with her, returning to Block 101 under the guise of escort and surveillance, Raymund had to huddle on the hard iron bed, consumed by anxiety.
He hadn’t expected Cosette to say, “I’ll help you.”
There was neither trust nor friendship between them for that.
But couldn’t she at least guide him through procedures, like allowing him to appoint a lawyer?
What if they interrogated him and didn’t let him go home? He didn’t even know how many days had passed since the explosion.
What would happen to his house? Would it just be sold off?
Would the orphanage director come looking for him again, making a scene demanding money?
What about Peony? Was Olive safe? And Hazel? Had all three of them already been arrested by the police? If he was branded a criminal and sent to prison, what would happen then? Who would provide for the three of them?
Worry piled upon worry, forming a mountain. Raymund felt like he was going to be crushed by his own thoughts.
But despite Raymund’s mental anguish, his body was steadily entering a recovery phase.
Every time he forced himself to sleep and woke up, his body felt lighter.
Now he could perform fine, delicate movements, and his voice was returning enough for short conversations.
Running, walking, rolling, sitting, standingāmost everyday movements were confirmed to be problem-free, and as soon as the researchers gave the go-ahead, a date was set for his interrogation.
On that day, the researcher in charge of checking Raymund’s condition brought him new clothes.
Not the one-piece patient gown he’d been wearing until then, but real shirts and pants.
Even so, for safety reasons, clothes with metal parts were impossible, so even the pants had a drawstring waist.
To be honest, whether he tied the drawstring or wore them loose, Raymund didn’t care what he wore as long as he could put underwear back on.
Having finally managed to dress like a human being, when he stepped out of the block, Cosette, who had been waiting in front, gave him a light greeting.
“See you again. Wow, is this really the person I knew? You got handsome all of a sudden?”
“Hello. Do I look that different from before?”
“Your faceāremember the stem cell transplant? It hadn’t fully settled in by then, so there were still prominent marks. Now it’s perfectly clear.”
“I didn’t realize, since there’s no mirror in there.”
“Well, we can’t have you breaking it and attacking the researchers, you know? It’s not like that’s never happened before.”
The more he heard, the more he wondered what kind of environment these people worked in. Did they even get paid properly?
Raymund followed the researcher and Cosette across a long bridge. The bridges sometimes connected to other places and sometimes abruptly ended in midair.
Cosette and the researcher seemed familiar with it, finding new paths everywhere, but Raymund couldn’t shake the feeling that the layout of this complex isolation ward was deliberately confusing.
After walking in circles for several minutes, they finally managed to board a lift heading upwards.
It seemed even operating the lift required clearance; besides the researcher’s ID card, they had to go through fingerprint, iris, and voice recognition procedures before a loud mechanical hum began.
“Security is tight.”
“Even a bank would be easier to break into than the Foundation Alliance. Passwords or codes don’t work here.”
“So what if an intruder came and tried to get to a critical area? What would you do?”
“You just saw. If someone wanted to get down here, they’d have to cut out the eye and hand of an authorized person. They’d also need to learn voice mimicry.”
Ugh. Horrible.
Raymund’s heart sank a little at Cosette’s matter-of-fact reply.
The lift carrying them ascended for a long time.
When the dangling blocks looked small, the isolation ward floors disappeared, and other spaces flashed past rapidly.
People in black suits, staff in blue vinyl overalls, personnel in white coats like researchers, ornamental plants, chairs, office floors.
Just as he thought he might feel a little dizzy,
-Ding.
The lift came to a complete stop.
The place they stepped out into was a sleek, modern lobby.
The predominantly white lobby had a glass ceiling that let in the bright light of the shelter’s artificial sun.
Furthermore, numerous employees were bustling about. A person carrying a briefcase quickly passed in front of Raymund, glancing at their wristwatch.
On a large screen affixed to the wall, a massive planetary logo with the letters ‘H.C.F’ was slowly rotating against a blue background,
and below it, six large clocks, each following the shelter time of different continents, hung in a row.
UK, Kazakhstan, Korea, Canada, Ecuador, Congo.
A clear female voice echoed softly from somewhere.
[Confront the abnormal, defend, and survive. For the eternal protection and prosperity of humanity, the Human Conservation Foundation Alliance is with you.]
