00003 - The Little Prince in the Ossuary
#Supply Procurement (2), Camp Roberts
After completing procedures like strategic exercises, tactical movements, basic signals, and mental training, the supply procurement mission was initiated.
In truth, it was a mere formality. There was a large crowd seeing off the vehicles as they departed.
It was unclear what their motivations were for coming out to bid farewell.
If one had a high rank in leadership skills like insight or perception, they might have been able to read such motivations.
Thinking about skills prompted the subconscious to react, and the control AI output a help message.
「AI Help (Insight Level 4): There is currently unused excess experience.
Experience is consumed when acquiring skills, and the player's basic attributes are also enhanced through skill acquisition.
Acquiring skills without preliminary knowledge requires a lot of experience.
Simply confirming the existence of a specific skill can also consume experience.
When the player has sufficient preliminary knowledge and experience regarding a skill, the experience required for acquisition decreases.
Preliminary knowledge can be obtained through books or familiar NPCs.
Additionally, for skills acquired in a previous playthrough, the required experience for reacquisition decreases based on the number of times it has been acquired.
Depending on the situation, even without any preliminary knowledge, obtaining skills by using a lot of experience might be beneficial.
The choice is up to the player.」
He already knew this information.
The boy opened his skill list. Skills of which he had no knowledge did not appear at all.
There was a way to put in specific keywords to check the existence of related skills, but, as the control personae warned, doing so consumed experience.
Also, acquiring the skill afterwards required several times more experience.
This was known as the 「Unknown Penalty」 due to ignorance.
For instance, a player could acquire high-level skills in mechanical engineering without any relevance.
But it would consume a tremendous amount of experience. This seemingly unnecessary cost had the advantage of instantaneously acquiring specialized skills that would otherwise be difficult.
However, some advanced skills that required the acquisition of specific prerequisite skills were exceptions.
Another advantage players had over NPCs was a kind of inheritance concept.
Skills obtained at least once in previous playthroughs did not apply the 「Unknown Penalty」.
Instead, a graduated 「Talent Advantage」 was applied based on how many times the skill had been learned.
This meant re-acquisition required less experience. However, this benefit applied only to the levels of the skill learned previously.
If the skill was learned up to Level 6 in a previous playthrough, there was no benefit for Level 7 and beyond.
This Talent Advantage, along with additional effects from achieving challenges, was the sole benefit afforded to multi-playthrough players.
The boy prioritized allocating experience to combat-related skills.
These were essential skills, so he had learned them often, allowing him to increase their levels significantly with little experience.
Of course, this also meant that the number of worlds the boy had ended in a dead end before this playthrough was considerable.
Level 9 「Close Combat」,
level 10 「Melee Weapon Proficiency」,
level 8 「Firearms Proficiency」.
While riding in the vehicle, Elliot, the U. S. Army private managing the mission, was diligently writing in a green-covered notebook.
Seeing that he wrote a date at the top, it seemed to be a diary.
As the boy stared at him blatantly, the private noticed, discreetly attempting to cover it, feeling embarrassed.
"I'm not too familiar with etiquette in other countries, but staring like that doesn't seem too polite."
"My apologies. It was unintentional."
"... It's not a big deal, though."
Corporal Elliot shut his notebook and tucked it away. It seemed to be a supply notebook.
The functionality notification in a corner of the boy's view blinked. It was the time acceleration function.
While commuting to a specific location or wanting to shorten the time until a mission started, one could use the acceleration function to make the time in virtual reality pass quickly.
The situation in between was determined by the control AI's situational computation, providing necessary details in journal form if the player needed to know something.
In essence, time acceleration was another way of expressing progress in journal form.
However, using time acceleration at the early stages rather than mid to late stages was considered unwise.
This was because gains from minor incidents and human interactions couldn't be ignored at that point.
Sure enough, someone spoke to him even while he remained still.
"Hey, kid. What's your name?"
A soldier from another seat asked. Judging by skin color, the soldier was Mestizo. Even in the U. S., known as the melting pot of races, the diversity within the military stood out, and he was amongst them. The name on the dog tag wasn't typical Anglo-American.
「Guilherme」
Though he could recognize the spelling, he was curious about the pronunciation, seeing only fragmented characters in a hologram. It signified a name format unknown to the player.
"My name is Gyeo-ul."
"Gi-uh-ul?"
"It's Korean. It means Winter."
"Oddly, the pronunciation sounds kinda like mine."
The boy pointed at the name tag and asked.
"How is it pronounced?"
The soldier seemed amused. As the boy tried to gauge his mood, level 4 「Insight」 activated.
「They seem fascinated by the composure amidst a tense environment as everyone else is intimidated or nervous. They likely think you have guts. (There is a 72% likelihood of error / to reduce the possibility of error, higher levels in 「Insight」 and 「Perception」 as well as intelligence adjustments are needed.)」
Ah, so that's it. It was motivation deducible within reasonable assumptions. The soldier answered.
"Just call me Guilherme."
"Sir Guilherme."
"Just Guilherme's fine."
Fellow soldiers laughed merrily.
The translation of the Korean honorific 'nim' was passing over as Sir, prompting his mock complaints, claiming it wasn't even playful teasing.
In reality, there was little time for conversation. Since they were only 5 kilometers away, the village's outline began to appear shortly after.
Even from a distance, it evoked a dreary atmosphere. Unrest stirred among the refugee support team.
Sir Guilherme heaved a stern sigh.
"Pretty eerie. I was annoyed about being stuck due to lockdown, only to end up seeing this after finally stepping out."
Lockdown referred to restrictions on leaves and passes. Usually associated as a disciplinary concept following military infractions.
Yet, currently, all soldiers were basically prohibited from going beyond base limits.
The convoy proceeded along a road branching left from the highway.
As the gas station lay south of the village, it seemed like the convoy was bypassing the village.
The gas station sign came into view. With a mark of two intersecting blue and red bars pointing downward, the well-known Chevron logo, along with the company name, could be discerned.
Corporal Elliot retrieved keys from his pocket to unlock the gun carriers. They were metal frames where firearms were placed and locked.
"You probably received prior instruction, but do not attempt to flee. If you are spotted during aerial reconnaissance while moving east, you will be shot without warning. Given that a general mobilization order has been issued, there is also no chance of safely crossing the quarantine line. It is crucial you comply with my control. Depending on the situation, summary execution on site could occur. Is this understood by everyone?"
The refugees nodded silently, their faces somber.
Having heard the moving convoy, several infected mutants burst out from the village.
The soldier in the leading HMMWV's turret fired immediately. Not with the mounted machine gun but using a personal firearm modified with a suppressor.
"Grrrr—"
Mutants running alongside, emitting low groans, collapsed in chaos.
Just from watching their run, it was clear they weren't normal, yet their speed was frighteningly fast.
Even after being shot, they struggled, attempting to rise and continue running.
Movement couldn't be adequately stopped solely by pain or bleeding, unlike regular humans.
"For your safety, please remain seated. The situation ahead will be handled."
Corporal Elliot chided, but the refugees remained unyielding. Another soldier, private Blake, grumbled.
"I heard the San Miguel area was already evacuated early and had almost no mutants left. Yet, upon arrival, we're greeted like this."
"They probably wandered in from elsewhere."
Private Guilherme replied curtly, his rifle pointed beyond the railing, eyes vigilant.
Shortly, the convoy came to a halt. As awkwardly-moving tanker trucks crawled toward the gas station, weapons such as guns, bayonets, and machetes were distributed to the refugees.
Despite selecting individuals with relatively stable mental states, there was a clear wariness about accidental discharge.
The boy also received a weapon.
The blades were surprisingly sharp, having been sharpened with electric grindstones.
When passing by, he had seen sparks flying off, akin to those seen from toy fireworks.
"Disembark!"
At the low command, soldiers led the refugees off the vehicles.
According to prior arrangements, soldiers undertook all-around vigilance, while the soldier in charge of guiding the refugees performed a headcount.
Meanwhile, troublesome noises drifted from the gas station.
"Damn, it's a card-operated pump, and the lock won't disengage. Now what?"
One sergeant, as if vexed, scratched inside his helmet. A handful of dandruff fell onto his shoulders, visible despite the considerable distance.
It seemed they hadn't properly received regular supplies like shampoo, either that or he was just lazy.
"We'll proceed as scheduled. If conditions permit, we'll clear road obstacles to summon trucks. Otherwise, individuals should fill their assigned duffel bags with supplies and return. If there's extra time before dusk, making multiple trips wouldn't be unwise. Your dedication to this mission will be evaluated, and rewards will be distributed accordingly. I hope everyone does their utmost."
Refugees, gauging the sergeant's tone, nodded.
"We'll set off now. We've got the rear. Take the lead in order."
Troops took the rear.
It was a prearranged agreement between the base commander and refugee representatives on the grounds that, in circumstances where reinforcements were scarce, the U. S. military could not afford losses.
Some complaints surfaced from refugees when this was made public.
Those currently volunteering accepted such conditions when taking on the mission.
#Public Service Advertisement, First Half of 2040, KBS
A rundown neighborhood, a decaying alleyside. The camera panned to an elderly man collecting waste paper.
Worn-out sleeves fluttered in the autumn wind. Breached with gaping holes patched in haste, soaked in salt and grime.
It seemed long unwashed. As a passing schoolgirl wrinkled her nose and pinched it closed, the elderly man felt embarrassed.
His solitary thoughts transformed into text on the screen.
「But if I can sell these, I can at least have a meal...」
The scene shifted to a deep focus shot. Uphill. The camera angled down from above.
The old man struggled against gravity, small against the cart loaded with scrap. His small stature emphasized next to the heaping cart.
With the sun setting behind him, the portrayal was a visual metaphor for the twilight years of his life.
The desolate atmosphere and bleak surroundings hinted at a neglected and impoverished old age, inviting empathy from elderly viewers.
Then came the warm, affectionate tone of a female narrator.
"At 86 years old this year, Woo-cheol Park sustains himself by collecting waste paper. He receives a pension of 630,000 won per month...but it's not enough. In 2040, the government's estimated minimum cost of living for single-person households stands at 1,645,053 won. The cost of living rises every year, yet the national pension, its funds exhausted, remains stagnant year after year. Life for the elders in Korea is unbearably difficult."
Mr. Park finally surmounted the incline. Close-up shot. Beads of sweat dripped from his wrinkled forehead.
Another scene shift.
The junk dealer meticulously sorted the paper stock. Not all paper held the same value.
Next to him, Mr. Park waited anxiously for his turn.
After calculated deliberations, it amounted to 13,325 won. Attached to his cart were pouches with lightweight items like aluminum cans and rusty metal.
Weighing and tallying together with recycled paper value barely exceeded 20,000 won. The dealer, out of kindness, rounded it to 21,000 won. Mr. Park was graciously appreciative.
Again, the narrator's voice softly emerged.
"Mr. Woo-cheol Park fares better than most. Legally permitted salvage yards are rare in Seoul. Increasing numbers are closing due to unprofitability, leaving many seniors unable to sell the paper they collect. They must rely on the meager pension."
Having finished his late meal, Mr. Park lay in a sparse room devoid of most possessions.
It was still early to sleep, but there was nothing else to do. The old TV showed no signs of life, remaining broken despite tinkering.
Sleep eluded him. The cramped room offered no respite to stretch out his body, and even in the autumn chill, the home's cold bit through the walls.
He shivered under a blanket, curling tightly. His thoughts floated across the screen.
「Gotta save the briquettes for winter...」
It wasn't thrift but survival. Without this, there would be no making through alive.
「I wonder what Sooyoung is up to...」
Mr. Park thought of his daughter. A close-up of his eyes filled the screen, followed by a glimpse of the daughter he raised.
eThe narrator continued with warmth, perhaps too warmly, creating an uncanny sensation.
"Parents unwilling to be burdens, even when they have children, are well known across Korea. In this rough world, living on one's own is hard without parents becoming their burden. They don't wish to impose. But could this truly be the right thing?"
Once more, the scene shifted.
Technicians worked diligently to install facilities, while scientists and doctors in white coats convened discussions.
The mood starkly contrasted previous imagery with its bright energy.
On a monitor the scientists and doctors observed, a human brain's bioelectrical signals were vividly displayed.
Subsequently followed were diverse landscapes where numerous happy, smiling individuals appeared.
A young woman soaked in summer sunlight with her feet in a stream. The caption came up, labeling her as 92-year-old Ahn Mi-young.
A man strolling through a springtime flower field in the breeze appeared.
The caption read, 88-year-old Choi Dae-yang. Many other elderly participants also enjoyed impossibly youthful and boundless joy in surreal surroundings.
"Transform your national pension into postmortem insurance. This is the era where it's not about living but existing. Any Korean citizen over 65 can abandon their physical body to obtain the freedom of the mind and limitless happiness. The Postmortem Insurance of Korea assures life beyond death."
Now it juxtaposed Mr. Woo-cheol Park's sorrow and the blissfulness of countless people within virtual reality in alternate editing.
"No longer is enduring each day of fear and pain necessary. Do not fear thought extraction surgery. There's lower risk of surgical failure than a plane crash. The globally recognized technology of the Postmortem Insurance Agency's life-support devices and neurological connectors will maintain your brain's health beyond its natural lifespan. Should virtual reality seem unfamiliar, request a pre-experience. Experiencing the future world you'll live in and deciding afterwards is permissible. Virtual reality experience facilities are open year-round to the public."
The appearance of these experience centers was neat and orderly. Elderly folks visited in small groups, donning connection devices to taste the virtual experience.
The experience was spectacular and remarkable. The elderly grinned contently in appreciation.
Amidst them was Mr. Park, drastically younger with his wrinkles gone, standing on a sunlit spring day, walking a pathway adorned with blooms.
"Happiness for all in Korea, being crafted by Postmortem Insurance."
As the advertisement neared its close, the screen filled with fluttering images of the national flag.
"This campaign is brought to you by the Public Service Advertisement Council, national Pension Service, and Postmortem Insurance Agency."
Clacky's Corner:
Damn, that informercial at the end. It seems this future is pretty bleak, with VR as an escape instead of a recreation.