#066
Awakened after a long time, Popo excitedly rolled around the mountain for a while. Not minding the dirt that clung to it, it looked exactly like a robot companion dog as it rolled about freely, different only in its spherical shape.
Yoo Seong-woo felt relieved. He had been feeling considerable guilt for running away without saying goodbye, especially after Yeon Tae-soo had treated him so well.
‘At least I’m glad I said goodbye.’
He had asked Popo to leave a box at Byeolbyeol Animal Hospital, and Popo, covered in camouflage cloth, had traveled the incredibly long distance to Haeya-dong and back.
By now, Yeon Tae-soo would have probably checked the transmitter placed in the box, along with the carving and the brief farewell message written on the bottom of the box.
‘…Will he be angry?’
Yes, of course he would be angry. He might even rant about Seong-woo being ungrateful.
Seong-woo resolved to provide financial compensation if the opportunity ever arose.
‘Let’s contact him again after leaving the country.’
For now, getting as far away from Yeon Tae-soo as possible was more important.
If he could leave the country without being discovered as an android. And if the time came when he could express his gratitude to Yeon Tae-soo again.
By then, Yeon Tae-soo’s affection for him would have diminished considerably. He wouldn’t be as desperate as before.
No, perhaps his feelings had already cooled off significantly.
‘It was fake emotion anyway.’
He, as an android, had unintentionally seduced Yeon Tae-soo, and this function would naturally weaken as the distance between them increased.
It was only natural, but thinking about it left a bitter taste. Yoo Seong-woo shook his head to stop thinking about it further and called Popo.
“I think I’ll collect money faster than expected. Maybe in about a month… I’ll have enough.”
Popo only blinked its lights, perhaps thinking Yoo Seong-woo was talking to himself. Yoo Seong-woo cleaned Popo carefully and put it back into a plastic bag. Despite likely disliking power-saving mode due to its companion dog AI, Popo didn’t resist and obediently went back into power-saving mode.
After burying Popo under the tree as before, Yoo Seong-woo headed back to work. His limited break time was over.
He worked nearly eighteen hours a day, but still hadn’t saved enough money. He could endure the fatigue. Though his body was strikingly similar to a human’s, perhaps it was still more efficient.
The problem was that his headaches were getting worse. In the past few days, his headaches had become so severe that he had collapsed screaming in the middle of work.
Workers passed by indifferently as Yoo Seong-woo writhed, clutching his head. It was a common sight, as many collapsed under the terribly harsh working conditions.
“Registration number 95-a, if you don’t return to work in 10 seconds, you’ll be marked absent.”
The supervisor robot’s cheerful voice boomed loudly, and Yoo Seong-woo gritted his teeth as he got back on his feet.
Being marked absent meant losing a day’s work. That meant receiving less pay. And that meant delaying the day he could afford passage for smuggling.
As he rejoined the line of workers moving soil, the supervisor robot fortunately turned its gaze away, creaking. His hands still trembled from the lingering headache, but Yoo Seong-woo concentrated on his fingertips, trying not to show it. The safety helmet on his head felt as heavy as a stone.
“Are you alright?”
Instructor Kwon asked him. Unlike others wearing masks and protective gear, Instructor Kwon wore ordinary work clothes. Yoo Seong-woo nodded and adjusted his mask.
“Yes.”
Instructor Kwon nodded and shifted his gaze elsewhere. The workers carried on, treating Yoo Seong-woo as just another fragment among them. There was no emotion, no compassion. Everyone was in a similar situation.
In the deepest part of the damaged Mount Jiri mine, where toxic substances leaked out, everyone working here, like Instructor Kwon, had expressionless faces.
When first assigned here, Yoo Seong-woo thought these humans all had deep personal stories.
The work didn’t have many conditions, and the pay was high due to the danger. People working here must have reasons for needing money.
After just a few days, he discovered that the majority of those walking beside him were androids.
Instructor Kwon was the one who had informed him of this.
He said he had originally been manufactured as a military android. The reason he was resistant to toxic substances was because he was designed that way. He was an android soldier meant to be deployed in place of humans when chemical weapons were used by anti-terrorism response units.
‘Androids don’t have retirement. Nor do they have ranks. When disposal is imminent, they get reassigned to places like this instead.’
In his 35th year since manufacture. When minor issues started occurring, the military deployed him to the Mount Jiri recovery work. It was an efficient move for the military. He could handle toxic substances that humans couldn’t tolerate, and his combat abilities were superior to humans’.
There were many other androids here besides Instructor Kwon.
The numerous androids here weren’t hunted or ostracized like those in other regions. One could make a fortune by killing an android, extracting its black moonstone, and running away, but they would be caught by the supervisors before that.
Androids like Instructor Kwon, with mobility and strength far superior to humans, supervised the site, and the non-humanoid supervisor robots were also much stronger than average humans.
This place was the last refuge for androids.
Yoo Seong-woo didn’t particularly feel solidarity or compassion for them. If androids had such feelings, wouldn’t they have staged a coup long ago?
The reason solidarity wasn’t programmed despite all the other emotions probably stemmed from humans’ fear of machine rebellion.
In any case, this place was safe for him. It was overflowing with toxic substances, and he worked eighteen hours a day, but he didn’t have to hide being an android. No one asked why he needed money.
He thought that maybe continuing to live and work here wouldn’t be so bad.
The only problem was having particularly exhausting days like today.
The intensity of work and the headache were the same as usual, but today he felt strangely tired.
It was probably because he was thinking about Yeon Tae-soo. On days when he thought a lot about him, physical fatigue would overwhelm him like this. No, it would be more accurate to say that he recalled Yeon Tae-soo on difficult days.
What effect had those days spent with Yeon Tae-soo had on him? Somehow, shaking off thoughts of him was oddly difficult.
Walking through a corridor filled with fumes so potent they could induce nausea even through his mask, Yoo Seong-woo kept thinking about Yeon Tae-soo.
The reason he kept recalling him was probably because his system was malfunctioning. There would be no other meaning to it.
He just needed to finish today’s work, receive his daily wages, and return to his quarters. Then he would safely get through today…
Yoo Seong-woo held his breath and continued walking. The yellowish lights in the corridor kept blurring in his vision.
***
Compared to the hard work, the meals provided here were not particularly good. Tonight’s dinner consisted of stir-fried pork with mostly oil and onions, kimchi stew that was mostly broth, and barley rice.
He forced his tired arms to move, stuffing the food from the tray into his mouth. Suddenly, a day recorded in his database came to mind.
‘What do you like? I noticed you ate stir-fried pork well before. And kimchi stew.’
The memory of Yeon Tae-soo unnecessarily frequenting the animal hospital made something inside him tingle.
A surge of something rose from somewhere inside his body, whether it was from his chest or elsewhere. It flowed up through his throat. Yoo Seong-woo forcibly swallowed it down with his food.
He reached for his face to check his sunglasses.
Since starting work here, he had never taken off his sunglasses. He couldn’t predict what might happen if he revealed his face. Even if being an android wasn’t a problem, his face, identical to Yoo-hyun’s, could certainly cause issues.
While chewing the terrible-tasting stir-fried pork, Yoo Seong-woo realized that Eden’s chef had been quite skilled. He let out a bitter laugh as this thought occurred to him.
And then, the inevitable pain in his face returned.
“Ah…”
His hand went to his mouth, which wasn’t covered by a mask.
Instead of a mask, a long scar occupied his face.
A scar that ran from between his eyebrows, across his nose, down his right cheek, and to the corner of his mouth.
No, it wasn’t quite a scar yet—the pinkish trace that hadn’t fully healed throbbed. It hadn’t hurt when he had burned his own face, but occasionally he felt pain afterward. Usually when he smiled.
It was fine if he didn’t smile, as it wouldn’t hurt. Just by making his appearance intimidating, this wound had already fulfilled its primary purpose.
And if he ever had to reveal his face, the wound would first draw attention away from his face that looked identical to Yoo-hyun’s. With new flesh growing unevenly over his prominent nose bridge and damaged mouth, it should be quite effective.
Yoo Seong-woo traced the healing wound with his fingertips as he put the remaining food in his mouth.
The fatigue was particularly heavy today. Yes, it was just an unusually tiring day. That was all.
