Chapter 32: Person in Charge, Step Forward

****

“Where is Director Geum?”

Nanami glanced at me for a moment. The man in the black suit lifted the square briefcase to eye level and opened it. From inside the case, a pair of blue eyes stared back at me.

What the hell is that now?

A cat raised its head from inside the briefcase. The moment I saw it, I knew — that was the real body.

I’d grown too accustomed to strange things to be surprised by this. This was probably an anomaly too… Honestly, a talking cat didn’t even rank on the scale of shocking supernatural phenomena.

“Then you must be Director Geum. I am Christopher Petraeus, the Ninth Overseer of the Foundation’s Standing Committee. Apologies for coming in this form.”

“Ah, yes.”

I didn’t know why he was a cat, but he must have his reasons. The Siamese cat’s blue eyes stared straight at me from inside the briefcase.

“Pleased to meet you.”

“Likewise. And I’m not the Director — I’m the Chief Researcher of the Director’s Office—”

The cat Overseer cut me off.

“Dr. Geum. Let me clarify one thing. When the people at Facility 82 need approval or need to show something to a superior, who do they go to?”

“Me.”

“Who gives final sign-off on research matters?”

“Also me.”

“Then you’re the Director. I understand your head’s a mess, but this isn’t the time for confusion in the chain of command.”

Hop.

The Siamese cat leaped out of the briefcase and landed on my arm. I awkwardly folded my arms to catch it. The soldiers who’d come off the fighter jet formed up around me.

“You’ll be carrying me for the time being.”

“Ah, yes.”

“And I’ll be borrowing your voice.”

“Why do you need to borrow my voice?”

“I’m a cat. In this state, I can’t speak human language without borrowing someone else’s voice.”

“Yes, well, borrow away.”

The cat in my arms coughed and hacked for a moment. It seemed to be adjusting its voice.

“Ah, ah, ah. I am Director Geum.”

Uncomfortable. Uncomfortable in a very novel way.

****

Christopher.

The name Christopher derives from Greek. Roughly translated, it means “one who carries Christ,” or more broadly, “one who carries the chosen one.”

And here I was, carrying an Overseer. A remarkably apt name, if I did say so myself.

Anyway. I was currently moving to the Director’s Office, escorted by the task force soldiers Christopher had brought, cat in tow.

“Explain the situation as you understand it.”

“A city has disappeared. A small city called Yulje-myeon was covered in clouds, and it seems no one outside Yulje-myeon can remember it.”

“And you?”

“Thanks to the Crystal Clock and the LSD, I remember it for now. I’ve already forgotten it several times.”

“I see. I’m not using a human brain, so I should be less affected by the cognitohazard. Let’s start by looking at a map.”

The cat tilted its head.

“I haven’t been able to see it properly yet. I remember that a city called Yulje-myeon exists, but specific information about it seems to drain right out of my head.”

“Really? How odd.”

“I knew cognitohazards existed, but one that erases people’s memories on this scale—”

I blinked.

“What was I doing just now?”

The cat swatted my face.

“Director Geum. Pull yourself together. There’s a cognitohazard connected to Yulje-myeon, and we were planning to rescue those people. The cognitohazard keeps making us forget Yulje-myeon exists.”

“Ah, right. There’s a place called Yulje-myeon.”

“Keep going.”

“My informants told me that hostile groups might take advantage of the eclipse to summon a god, or commit an incident of similar scale.”

“Summon a god, you say. That’s possible. Do you have evidence? God-killing takes a lot of preparation.”

“Our facility has been attacked by several Groups of Interest recently. An anomalous artist who raided the museum, Gardeners conducting a rite in the forest, Returnees, and Librarians trying to smuggle a Returnee out.”

“Well, that’s hard to explain, then. If it’s enough to erase an entire city, ordinary power wouldn’t do it—it’s fair to assume a god was summoned.”

“Right. Do you remember where Yulje-myeon is?”

I blinked. No. Where on earth is that city, and why should I know it? My head kept churning.

“I don’t know.”

Christopher let out a sigh.

“A briefing won’t work in this state. Bring the Cognitive Team and the Head of Support for Facility 82.”

“I apologize.”

“It’s because you’re human. Can’t be helped.”

“I keep muttering so I don’t forget. Yulje-myeon, Yulje-myeon, Yulje-myeon, Yulje-myeon…”

Right, there’s something I need to do first.

Time to tear into those Precognition Division bastards.

What?

They said no major incident would happen during the eclipse? I haven’t made many enemies since joining the Foundation, but today I’ll give it my all to tear them apart.

****

Click-clack, click-clack. Rattle-rattle-rattle.

The sound of one pair of dress shoes and several pairs of combat boots moving. The Precognition Division staff pricked up their ears.

BANG!

The iron door of the Precognition Division burst open, and task force members flooded into the building. At their center stood Dr. Geum.

“Where is Section Chief Gwon?”

“Ah, here I am.”

Section Chief Gwon pressed hard on his temple. Last time too, Dr. Geum had used a laptop as an excuse to bring a task force and kick down the Precognition Division’s door.

Today Dr. Geum had come with a different task force. Given the facility lockdown, it was probably a task force from Foundation HQ.

It might even be the Praetorian Guard of the Foundation’s leadership.

No matter how he looked at it, that wasn’t standard task force armament. Black armor, bayonets with a faint blue sheen, firearms that might be laser rifles or who knows what.

“Dr. Geum. What brings you here?”

The Precognition Division Chief rose quickly from his seat and bowed his head. Dr. Geum was holding a cat for some reason, but that wasn’t the important thing right now. This was an incident serious enough for the Foundation’s leadership to get involved.

Say the wrong thing now, and he might die.

“Section Chief Gwon.”

“Ah…”

“Section Chief. What did I tell you? I asked you to prepare countermeasures because a major incident might break out on the day of the eclipse, didn’t I?”

“That was—”

“Section Chief Gwon. An entire city of forty thousand people has vanished from the map, and you’re telling me this division couldn’t foresee it, couldn’t even catch a lead on an incident of this scale?”

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

“That’s exactly the problem, Section Chief Gwon.”

Checkmate.

Section Chief Gwon screamed internally. No matter how he tried to spin it, he couldn’t make excuses for a problem he knew nothing about.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Geum. I don’t know what’s happening—”

“Didn’t I just tell you? A whole city just vanished.”

Tap, tap, tap.

Dr. Geum’s heels struck the floor impatiently.

“If you mean the cognitohazard, the information contamination effect retroactively influences the past before the incident occurs, making precognition impossible—”

Dr. Geum shook her head. The cat cradled in her arms shook its head too, for some reason.

“Why are you telling me this now?”

“Dr. Geum. I’m sorry. I’ll correct it.”

“How exactly will you correct it?”

“…”

“Come with me, Precognition Division Chief. You’ll participate in field command until this incident is resolved.”

“Understood.”

“Select your personnel and pack your equipment right now. The Precognition Team is coming to the field with me today.”

Dr. Geum left the Precognition Division office with the task force. The Division Chief let out a sigh of relief. At least he’d avoided dying on the spot.

****

This is the command room.

The Siamese cat sat atop the communications equipment in the command room, staring at me. I scratched my head.

“Good work.”

“I’m not really used to fighting.”

“Grab the mic. I’m issuing orders to the facility.”

“What should I order?”

“You figure it out.”

“I’m not sure. Keep the facility on lockdown until the situation ends, and have a helicopter ready to take Recovery Section 1 and Division 2 to the scene?”

“That’s a bit off.”

“Is it?”

Christopher stood up straight.

“First. You can’t fly a helicopter into the center of a cognitohazard. What if the pilot loses his memory on the way there?”

“Second. The facility lockdown is because of me. If anything, the facility’s functions should be kept running as normally as possible.”

“Third. If the recovery teams could handle this, I wouldn’t have needed to come. It should be the task force moving out, not the recovery teams.”

All fair points. I nodded.

“Still, good work. Grab the mic, explain the situation to the staff, then give the orders. We’ll need to call the allies afterward too.”

****

[Um, ah. This is Dr. Geum of the Director’s Office.]

[Code Red has been activated. Something has shrouded a city called Yulje-myeon in fog and erased it from memory via a cognitohazard.]

[Until further orders, please remain armed. Unless there is a special reason not to, all Foundation staff at this facility are advised to take today’s duty shift.]

[Recovery Section 1, Recovery Division 2, and task force personnel: prepare for immediate deployment. Support Division, please prepare a field support team. We depart in one hour.]

[Thank you.]