00052 --- The Little Prince in the Ossuary -------------------------=
#Journal, page 83, Camp Roberts
In the end, Jeffrey's prediction was correct. He had received another medal. Major Bliss from the Public Affairs Office once again appeared with a "him again?" expression. He even felt a bit apologetic towards him.
The Distinguished Service Medal he received this time was ranked lower than the Military Merit Medal. Nevertheless, even more journalists showed up than before. Major Bliss had a hard time controlling them.
The reporters asked him to give some words of encouragement to the American citizens. Of course, a speech had been prepared. Major Bliss told him what to say. He questioned the significance of all this but did as instructed, even with such an embarrassing speech.
"Protect your families and homes! I'm here to help!"
Smiling was the toughest part. No matter how much he thought about it, it felt awkward, yet the reporters happily captured it. Their sensibilities were undoubtedly different from ordinary people. If not, perhaps the world had gone mad, and they were insane too.
An invitation had arrived from the civilian residential area. For them, who were bored and anxious each day, he was a good reason to throw a festival. The combat camera footage had already hit the news. They had initially said it would be used as a combat manual, but making promotional materials took precedence.
Ignoring the invitation was difficult. Inside the zone, they had decorated everything splendidly, assuming he would naturally attend. If he didn't go, many would be disappointed, and much of what had been prepared in advance would become useless.
Even after attending, he didn't feel comfortable due to the people making passes at him. There were personal and more political dimensions involved. A Californian state senator showed interest in him and even called over reporters to take pictures.
Besides that, there were temptations of spending a night together. They said it was natural to desire strong men in these perilous times. However, he sensed a different kind of desire from them. It was difficult to express, but it seemed like a show of vanity.
It was as if they didn't actually want him as a person.
He wasn't sure. In a country where sexual mores were relatively free, it might not be considered a significant problem.
He realized that such scenarios were not confined to just movies.
In any case, he declined. Using the excuse of still being a minor was at least somewhat useful. Most accepted it as a cultural difference, but a few laughed out loud. They questioned whether it was such a big deal.
He realized anew that the process of being made a hero is never comfortable for the person involved.
#Journal, page 84, Camp Roberts
As Christmas approached, the atmosphere of TV broadcasts began to change.
It wasn't just Christmas carols being played. The programming, which was predominantly disaster broadcasts and news, began to include more everyday programs like talk shows, stand-up comedies, and dramas. Videos depicting mutant infections in a comical manner became the norm.
Closed channels were reviving one after another. The number of people gathering in front of TVs increased rapidly.
To him, this represented a manifestation of confidence in overcoming the disaster. It was likely an effort to spread a positive atmosphere.
Among the new programs was this:
「Do It Yourself for Patriots (DIY)! Today is our first episode!」
The purpose of the broadcast was to encourage people to produce materials and equipment needed by the nation at a personal level. Initially, he thought it was trivial, but in fact, it was no joke.
「Hello to all the patriotic citizens across the country. I'm McCallister Guyver Johnson, your all-round technician prepared for you. For the next seven weeks, I'll be carving wood with fellow patriots! And what are we making from that carved wood? Don't be surprised. An aid supply aircraft!」
For a moment, he thought he heard wrong. The host emphasized once more.
「Oh, no need to doubt. It's exactly what you imagined. An aircraft that flies in the sky! No need to be scared, you can make it with the ordinary tools lying in your garage!」
Ordinary tools were by American standards. Here, it was common culture to make or repair quite a few things oneself.
「We shall call this project... yes! The Wooden Wonder! The name that will make historically informed patriots go aha! That's right, back when we were giving the Nazis a thrashing, they built an excellent bomber out of wood in the land of whimsy, england! I took inspiration from there! Oh, it's not the exact same thing, of course!」
Soon the screen displayed blueprints and provided a phone number. It said you could order the blueprints, which would be sent out for a fee, with all proceeds donated for defense purposes.
「The aircraft we're making doesn't need armor, doesn't need to fly high, nor fast! Our enemies don't have anti-air guns! Of course, it won't have any wings! Our hope, the 'Wooden Wonder', only needs to be able to fly with cargo and people!」
Technician McCallister listed the performance of the finished product. If made properly, it could carry up to 2 tons of materials and fly 1,000 km.
The closing message of the broadcast was as follows:
「We've prepared materials at each area's community center! The Department of Defense will purchase completed parts that pass specification and quality inspections! We ask for much support from patriotic citizens!」
The term "completed parts" was basically referring to preliminary production entrusted to individuals. The host also showed himself finishing his creation using a machine lathe.
Most importantly, it was about motivation. Having something to do significantly helps to alleviate feelings of helplessness.
In the same vein, recruitment ads had become much fresher compared to before. Having war heroes encourage enlistment remained the same. However, the solemnity had faded, making way for humor.
The first to appear was a muscular white sergeant sitting atop a Grumble's corpse. A reporter asked him.
「What do you think is needed to protect humanity?」
The sergeant replied.
「More weapons, more ammunition, and even more bastards.」
Then the reporter queried again.
「Bastards as in, excluding women?」
The sergeant frowned.
「What does gender have to do with being a bastard?」
On the switched screen, the reporter grinned brightly.
「That's what he says! God bless 'Merica! Yeah! You too can become a bastard! Call now! Dallas! 972-392-9158! Fort Worth! 817-467-3266!.......」
This advertisement reflected the recently revised conscription law. Originally, only males aged 18 to 65 were subject to the draft, but now females could also be conscripted.
As of today's date, december 22, the U. S. military force had surpassed 8 million. The refugee volunteer force was also continuously expanding. It was difficult to predict where the expansion of the U. S. military would end.
While pondering these thoughts, I appeared on TV. The background had a fluttering Star-Spangled Banner and unnecessary fighter jets flying past. In the midst stood me, striking a magnificent pose.
「Protect your families and homes! I'm here to help!」
What is this...?
#Intentional Actions (有所作爲) (1), Camp Roberts
The information from the journal manifested as visible changes at Camp Roberts. The U. S. military began recruiting refugee technicians.
Regarding the 「Gyeo-ul Alliance」, Gyeo-ul handled recruitment in place of the recruitment officer. He screened people based on the occupations and skills listed in the roster. Given the alliance's size, they filled a tent tightly when gathered.
"Those selected this time will be primarily deployed to base construction or facility restoration. They may also be dispatched to factories, power plants, or field repair units. They say they'll provide private soldier-level salaries and risk allowances. Are there any volunteers?"
People flinched at the mention of risk allowance. No one stepped up voluntarily. Someone cautiously raised their hand.
"Excuse me, I am not volunteering yet, but I have a question."
"Go ahead."
"Is there no mention of citizenship?"
Gyeo-ul made a regretful expression.
"They haven't mentioned anything about that yet. They seem to think that reinforcing their forces is more important."
Quite a few were disappointed. Immediately, another question surfaced.
"You mentioned private soldier pay, specifically how much are we talking about?"
Gyeo-ul fumbled through the recruitment instruction appendices and salary tables.
"They're starting with $1,756 a month. It says adjustments will be made based on technical level, experience, and English proficiency. And they're paying the basic $150 for risk allowance, and if you work outside the camp, it's guaranteed. If there's combat during work, they say they'll pay $225."
"Still, that's about 2 million won. There's nothing much to do here anyway, so we might as well go..."
Questions continued. Countless hands were raised here and there. Gyeo-ul pointed to each one to answer. Most questions were about safety.
After such a process, the final number of volunteers was 17. More than half decided to stay cautious. While having more volunteers would increase the influence of the 「Gyeo-ul Alliance」, there was no need to force anyone. It was a time to prioritize stability over results.
Among the volunteers was a welding technician with a speech impediment. He displayed remarkable skill. The U. S. military examiner was impressed. Initially, they had shown reluctance because he couldn't speak English and had difficulty with normal communication. Even other technicians were amazed. They crowded around the results.
"Wow, look at the weld bead this guy made! He's a master, a real craftsman."
"He's supposed to weld, but he's laying dragon scales."
"From what I can tell, his welding technique is an art form."
Even to Gyeo-ul, who knew nothing about it, the welded joints appeared neat. Scales of the same size and shape overlapped neatly. His acceptance was virtually guaranteed, and it seemed there would be an adjustment in his salary level.
His name was Park Byung-hoo. He smiled shyly.
Gyeo-ul called him aside.
"Are you sure you want to do this?"
Byung-hoo pulled out a pen and notebook.
"Do you think I shouldn't because I'm disabled?"
"I'm not trying to discriminate. I'd actually be happy if you worked. It means an economically capable member has joined the alliance. Public perceptions towards the disabled would change too."
Taking a breath, Gyeo-ul continued.
"I just wonder if you feel pressured to step up because you're disabled. That's discrimination too. The risk for you in outside activities might be greater."
There were people within the 「Gyeo-ul Alliance」 who disliked those with disabilities. They couldn't openly rebel against Gyeo-ul, so outwardly they remained calm. Subtle contempt and insults happened where no one could see.
Just considering the notes from Lee Hoon-tae that Gyeo-ul received shows that. Many have insulted or mocked him to his face, because he allegedly can't hear, under the guise of claiming to be hearing impaired.
He wondered if Byung-hoo was being half pushed by this atmosphere. That was Gyeo-ul's true intention.
It was also true that the risk level was different. Recognizing differences and discrimination are clearly different concepts.
Byung-hoo scribbled with his pen.
"Thank you for considering. It's true I do feel a sense of duty, but it's not necessarily a bad thing. Even if it's risky, I want to try."
Gyeo-ul nodded.
"Understood. Then go ahead."
The U. S. military examiner was calling the successful applicants. Byung-hoo joined the ranks of the successful with quick steps. Behind Gyeo-ul, several presences approached as he watched him go.
They were Chinese. Gyeo-ul greeted the central figure.
"Long time no see, miss."
Li Ai-ling quietly nodded to Gyeo-ul.
Her appearance had changed a lot. Before, she seemed intentionally over-styled. Now, she looked plain. She was dressed in white. Considering the 「Triad」 situation, it was likely mourning attire.
She asked Gyeo-ul.
"Does what you said to us before still stand?"
He had been waiting. Gyeo-ul nodded.
-------------= Author's Notes -------------=
Thank you for all your comments on the previous chapter.
I see that the readers of this novel are over 40,000 years old and none of you use bipedal movement.
Saying that walking on two legs is passé gives me confidence in you all.
No writer could secure such great and blasphemous readers.
I am delighted.
-------------= Clacky's Notes -------------=
I'm not sure, but it seems author-nim is referencing a table top game that has war and hammer in its name and that is 40K years into the future.