Chapter 47: New Employee Recruitment

****

I don’t trust the Human Resources Department. Though, to be fair, what decent employee ever gets along with Human Resources Department?

They’re terrifying people.

Me, the Head of Research, the other staff — all of us. A few words from the Human Resources Department people can decide life and death. Most employees live and die at Human Resources Department’s say-so.

It probably isn’t an easy decision from Human Resources Department’s side either. But I have no choice but to meet with them. Someone has to manage people.

“HR Section Chief. Do you have the list of people who passed the personnel screening? I’d like to see it before they arrive.”

“Ah, of course. You’ll be observing the interviews, after all.”

The HR Section Chief handed me a single sheet of paper. Twenty names and resident registration numbers of the candidates to be vetted this time were written on it.

Looking at it again, it wasn’t just names and resident registration numbers. In handwriting as fine as sesame seeds were the candidates’ family addresses, personal information, physical details, academic records, residences…

“You’re Santa Claus.”

Knowing which children are naughty and which are nice.

The HR Section Chief nodded.

“I’m sorry, but I’m busy. I’ll be going now, Director Geum. Thank you for your time.”

Of course you’re busy.

The HR Section Chief quickly took their leave.

****

It was a bit awkward, but the meeting with the HR Section Chief ended quickly. Let me think for a moment.

How does the Foundation recruit people?

It’s complicated.

They don’t seem to do open hiring. Instead, they carefully select people one by one, whenever a vacancy opens, after conducting every possible investigation.

First, they often recruit from among containment targets or amnesticization candidates. I think the logic is that it saves the cost of killing or containing those people.

They also often recruit from the families of Foundation personnel. And if the Foundation needs an expert, I hear they sometimes manipulate that person’s entire life to bring them into the Foundation.

Apparently there’s an annual gathering where new employees come together. Though I haven’t attended one yet, either as a new hire or as Director.

Anyway. Let me skim the list.

These are the new personnel to be added to the Precognition Division.

The Precognition Division recommended six new employees, and Human Resources Department recommended six. The Director’s Office and others recommended eight.

All of them have passed Human Resources Department’s vetting. The level of detail is so exhaustive that I’m not sure what to make of it. I took out the Crystal Clock.

“Doctor, have you ever hired anyone before?”

[No. I wasn’t someone who did personnel work, and I wasn’t high-ranking enough to be involved in hiring. I don’t think I can help you this time.]

“Well, understood.”

Twenty hiring candidates.

How many people do we need…? A total of twelve non-combat personnel were killed or injured in the last operation. Including combatants, it’s a considerable number.

Even thinking about it again makes my head spin.

“Doctor, is it okay to hire more people than planned?”

[I don’t know. There’s probably no rule against it.]

I thought for a moment.

My position in the Director’s Office is, at best, precarious. The more people I’ve brought in under my command, the better.

For now, my goal is to hire all twenty.

“Let’s hire all of them.”

[Will that work? You’d have to pressure Human Resources Department to change the established hiring plan.]

“Worth trying. It’s also to my advantage to hire as many as possible while I’m acting Director.”

[Fine, understood. Do you know what kind of people come into the Foundation as new hires?]

I shook my head.

“I’m looking at them right now.”

[Let’s see. Four are contained humanoid anomalies or Group of Interest agents, five are students from inside the Foundation, and eleven are ordinary outside hires.]

“That’s right. The already-contained candidates just need a visit, the students will probably come if called, and the outside experts… those will take some thought.”

[What are you planning to do?]

“Since I plan to hire all of them, I need to meet them.”

[I don’t get it. You haven’t even gotten a yes on hiring everyone — why waste the trip?]

That’s not right.

Even if they don’t get hired this time, these people are a sort of reserve force managed by the Foundation. There’s nothing to lose from meeting them.

And that goes double for the Foundation’s students.

“For now, let’s have the Foundation students come in first.”

****

White lab coat, dress vest, tie, dress pants. And Nanami, armed, standing guard by one side of the office. My preparations were complete.

A knock. I crossed my legs and sat, and the Foundation’s students entered my office.

“Ah, Director, hello! I’m Park Seon, this month’s research intern. We’re students from the Foundation-run school, here as research interns for Facility 82.”

Three students in pale mint-colored coats. Though their faces weren’t clearly visible thanks to the masks and goggles.

They’re probably students raised by the Foundation.

Like Head of Research, Lee Seah?

Though I hope they don’t end up like her.

“Mm, right. Fields of interest?”

“We’re studying extended physics, a subject that can’t be studied outside the Foundation. Nonlinear time, causality distortion, reality adjustment—”

“You know there’s a new hiring opening this time, right?”

“Ah, yes.”

“Well… I’ve read all of your records. I’ll push for you in this hiring round.”

“Thank you.”

“Yeah, no need to be so formal.”

Extended physics.

Things like reality adjustment coefficients and causality distortion fall under the category of extended physics. Naturally, that includes working in the Precognition Division, or observing anomalous spaces with observation equipment.

They could probably fill the gap in the Precognition Division.

“By tomorrow, pick one extended physics paper each, prepare a briefing summarizing it so even a non-specialist can understand, and print out your resumes and portfolios to bring in.”

The research interns nodded.

“Alright, good work.”

“Yes.”

“Not leaving?”

The students shuffled out of my office.

****

*Squeak.*

The door to my office closed. Nanami let out a snicker the moment the research interns were gone.

“Isn’t that a bit too intimidating?”

Nanami’s hair fell across her face.

“Mm, intimidating? For research interns, this level of treatment counts as being treated like guests. They’ll stay far away from anything dangerous or important.”

“Old fogey…”

“You can’t let students walk all over you, can you? Especially when they already look down on you for looking young.”

With the students gone, there was no need to stand at attention. Nanami leaned against the wall at an angle.

“I don’t think that’s the case now. Honestly, the only person who’d judge you by your appearance is yourself.”

“Mm…”

I looked at Nanami.

“Nanami. Can you explain Project Blue Rose to me? Do you know what it is?”

Nanami didn’t answer right away.

“I’ve heard of it… but I’m a soldier. What was in Project Blue Rose, what its goals were — I don’t know any of that either.”

“Understood, for now.”

“I only know it was an interaction experiment conducted jointly by several national agencies, corporations, and the Foundation. They seemed to be trying to make something by combining multiple anomalies. Everything else is classified.”

That’s not “nothing,” is it.

Nanami is always like this.

“Tell me if you need anything, Dr. Geum. I’ll help as much as I can.”

I wrote down what I’d newly learned. Project Blue Rose, a multi-anomaly interaction experiment that I was apparently involved in in the past.

****

The Returnee, An Yuri. Now just a patient.

An Yuri sat in her containment cell, staring out the window. More precisely, not a window, but a screen showing footage of some forest.

A sigh.

An Yuri looked down at her own chest.

She didn’t know what the Foundation’s doctors had done. The scar from heart surgery, felt beneath the patient gown, was already fading.

The Foundation’s doctors had carved out the Returnee’s heart and inserted a mechanical device in its place. No more pulse could be detected at the Returnee’s wrist. Only a whirring sound coming from the heart.

But that wasn’t even the real problem. The mana that should have been beating along with the Returnee’s heart could no longer be felt.

Outside the window, there was a faint fog over some part of the Garden. A fictional world that neither existed nor could be reached.

It would have been better to see a barren winter plain, or some ordinary scenery. The view through the screen was nothing but an insult.

“Hello, Miss An Yuri.”

“You again?”

“Well, I can’t say I don’t understand how you feel. But this time, I have good news. Your designation as an anomaly has been lifted. You’ll be able to stay somewhere more decent than this bleak containment cell.”

Miss An Yuri stared at me.

“Oh, really?”

“Yes.”

“Where’s my heart?”

It’s actually in the refrigerator of the Director’s Office biological storage. To study the properties of the mana core. But if I answered that… I’m not sure how she’d react.

“I don’t know.”

“No, does that even make sense?”

“Miss An Yuri. Would you consider working for the Foundation? What do you think?”

“No.”

Miss An Yuri furrowed her brow.

“I’m saying this because your situation resembles what I faced when I first encountered the Foundation. I want to help you as much as I can.”

“Would you believe that if you were me?”

“It’s a bit absurd, but this is the last chance I’m offering you, the third one. Either become an employee of the Foundation, or cooperate with its work.”

Still an expression full of irritation.

“What do I get if I cooperate?”

“I’ll help you as much as I can.”

The Returnee picked up the television and hurled it at me. I dodged to the side. Seems her strength is gradually coming back…

“Fine, whatever. Do what you want.”

“Thank you. Let’s start by getting you fitted for a suit.”

One more problem solved. Probably?