Chapter 71: The Veil of Ignorance

****

[Anomaly Utilization Composite System]

[No. 1]

[The Veil of Ignorance]

[The Veil of Ignorance is structured across multiple layers in order to efficiently achieve its objectives. The layers are divided from the simplest, most superficial Stage 5, down to the complex and secretive Stage 1.]

[The Veil of Ignorance is currently maintained through the operation of 36 anomalies and the execution of 13 protocols. Refer to the attached document for details.]

[Stage 5.]

[Censor mass media and social media in accordance with the Foundation’s will. Cooperation from major media and internet companies is required. Employ whatever means necessary to secure that cooperation.]

[Convince the public that anomalies do not, in fact, exist.]

[Spatially contain anomalies from densely populated areas. Ensure that, as much as possible, people do not reside in regions with high anomaly activity.]

[Stage 4.]

[Minimize the number of anomalies that exist or operate outside the Foundation’s control.]

[Compartmentalize Foundation activities as much as possible, so that information regarding the anomalies the Foundation handles is not disclosed to personnel without direct operational relevance.]

[Stage 3.]

[Install frequency transmitters that affect brainwaves in densely populated areas, implanting the notion that anomalies do not exist into humanity’s subconscious.]

[Disseminate memetic factors that prevent belief in the existence of anomalies as widely as possible.]

[Stage 2.]

[Manipulate the probability of anomalies being discovered by the general public, employing anomalous physics and metaphysics.]

[Precognitively detect events that could threaten the Foundation — particularly the Veil of Ignorance — and block them in advance.]

[Should an event threatening the Foundation — particularly the Veil of Ignorance — occur, retroactively destroy that event or erase it from history.]

[Stage 1.]

[Identify individuals who have witnessed anomalies or are otherwise associated with them.]

[Erase the memories of those who have witnessed anomalies. Either convince them it was for some other reason, or make them regard the fact as trivial.]

[Recruit individuals associated with anomalies into the Foundation whenever possible. If this proves impossible, employ other means to remove them from society.]

****

I stared at the underground laboratory. Government-funded research institute, my ass. If the government could pull off something like this, the country wouldn’t be in the state it’s in.

“This is where you’ll be working, Dr. Geum.”

I nodded.

“Who are you people, exactly?”

“Research.”

“You’re not affiliated with the government, are you?”

“Dr. Geum. Please, have a seat.”

I sat down in whatever chair was nearest in the lab. A young woman with black hair was watching me. Her name tag read: Dr. Lee Seah, Ph.D.

This woman — her tag clearly says Ph.D., but she doesn’t look a day over high school.

“I’m Lee Seah. Please call me Dr. Lee.”

Was Lee Seah pretty…? I couldn’t say. The thought that came first wasn’t that she was pretty, but that she was a bit strange. It felt incongruous for a Chief Researcher to have a face like that.

Her expression and thoughts were impossible to read, and her way of speaking was odd too. Not that she was inarticulate — it felt like talking to an alien.

“So you’re Dr. Geum. Master’s from Seoul National University, completed military service, strongly recommended by Professor Park, and the Response Agency already finished your personnel vetting through paperwork.”

“That sounds about right.”

“Dr. Lee. Answer a few questions for me.”

“You’re direct.”

I looked at Dr. Lee again.

“What is this place? What am I supposed to do here?”

Lee Seah mulled it over.

“The Korean government has a department for responding to anomalies. An organization assembled around the Response Agency, with the NIS, the Ministry of Science and ICT, the Ministry of National Defense, and certain corporations — they’re currently in negotiations with our side.”

“I see.”

“They’re asking to have some of their people participate in Foundation work. That’s why you and Professor Park are here.”

That would explain things, at least.

“So then. Are we here because of government influence? This is research being conducted by a private entity, not the government?”

“Private…? The Foundation is a non-governmental organization. It’s an organization that does a lot of good work, so you needn’t worry. Are you interested in making a donation?”

“No.”

Donating the salary the Foundation pays you back to the Foundation—what kind of contradiction was that? Dr. Lee was probably joking.

“I’ve brought a specimen for you to examine, Dr. Geum. You’ll need to record its macroscopic structure and conduct molecular biological analysis. I’ll bring the next specimen once you’ve finished documenting that one.”

I turned my head. In a tub in the corner of the lab, a single enormous eyeball lay resting. What the hell—how had I missed that?

“And what’s that?”

“A whale eye. A specimen that just came up from Jeju Island. Apparently a beached whale was caught.”

There was no way that was a whale eye.

The pupil shape alone wasn’t that of a mammalian eye. And the size—a size that couldn’t even be compared to a soccer ball or a volleyball.

I narrowed my eyes.

“Why not call it a rabbit eye?”

“It’s a rabbit eye.”

Lee Seah answered curtly, and I let out a sigh. A snort of unintended laughter escaped me.

“Dr. Lee. Wouldn’t it help the research more if I actually knew what I was dealing with?”

She shook her head.

“Take your time. The Foundation will decide based on you and your results. How much we can trust you, how capable you are.”

It was a bit unpleasant, but it was only natural.

They had to evaluate their employees too, after all. I averted my gaze from Lee Seah and sighed.

“Then… let’s do our best together.”

Lee Seah nodded. Mechanically.

****

The specimens I had to examine grew stranger by the day. The Foundation researchers’ eccentricities also worsened daily. Though the people themselves were kind enough.

I stared at the bone placed before me.

“This is, no matter how I look at it, a piece of a human.”

“Dr. Geum. Is there a problem with that?”

Of course there is, you madwoman.

“I suppose it was donated for research purposes. It’s a common thing. How many people donate their bodies every year for the advancement of humanity and science?”

“Dr. Lee… You find your own words funny too, don’t you? You’re doing this to be funny, right?”

“A little.”

Still, Lee Seah didn’t lie much.

“Record the specimen. Confirm its molecular biological characteristics, then hand it back to us. We’ve already completed the ethical considerations.”

A terrifying thing to say.

“Ah, right. You must never go into the basement of the research facility. The Extended Physics Division and the Metaphysics Division have locked something strange down there.”

“Something strange?”

“I’m not supposed to tell you, but I’m telling you as a special exception. Never approach it, and never speak with researchers outside the Biology Department.”

For now, I nodded.

****

The Blue Rose was freezing to death.

Lee Seah thought of the two as completely different people. The young-looking scientist Nanami had recovered, and the bumbling doctoral student she’d once worked with.

In fact, they were completely different people. Life experience, appearance, personality, ability—all different. It wouldn’t be strange to say they weren’t the same person.

“…”

Well.

Lee Seah was a child raised by the Foundation.

Not a test subject, but she had spent her entire life inside the Foundation. She was raised in the hands of Foundation scientists.

At the age when other children learned their multiplication tables, she memorized the periodic table; at the age when other children learned multiplication, she learned calculus. It was much later that she realized that wasn’t normal.

In that context.

The Director who worked with Lee Seah, and that bumbling researcher who had once worked with Lee Seah, were objects of considerable curiosity to her.

Were all outsiders that stupid?

It was only after a long time that Lee Seah realized.

Dr. Geum wasn’t stupid. Rather, Dr. Geum was smart even among the smartest of outsiders.

More than anything. Whether she was stupid or not wasn’t actually important at all.

Because Director Geum had turned the people under her command into her own people, and crushed every Foundation employee who had treated her with contempt.

The Precognition Division Chief had been the same, the Head of Research had been the same, the HR Section Chief had been the same, and the Humanoid Division had been the same.

Come to think of it, that was quite a lot of people.

****

I sat blankly, fiddling with my hair.

As I sat on the hospital bed, the Head of Medical walked over.

The fact that she’d shown up without trailing a whole group of medical staff this time suggested she had good news.

Or else truly bad news.

“Director Geum. How are you feeling?”

I nodded vigorously at the doctor’s question. I felt like I could finally function at a level comparable to before the dive.

“I’m perfectly fine.”

“Hmm… Let me take one last look at your test results. Ah, everything’s within normal range this time. You’re cleared to be discharged today.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

Time to get back to work, then.

And soon enough, I’d be able to uncover the truth of Project Blue Rose. I could chase down the other things the Foundation was hiding, too.

First stop: Jeju Island.

I’d find the truth the Foundation was hiding—the hidden truth about Project Blue Rose. I didn’t know what I’d find, but I hoped it would give me a clearer answer than what I had so far.