Story Reader / Floating Record / ER10 Deceivers' Rapture / Story
Section 1A/1 - Introduction and Overview
1A/1a: Repeal Article 1092 of the current "Science and Technology Progress and Safeguard Act".
1A/1b: Human classification criteria shall derive solely from morphological, behavioral, or phenotypic markers. No governing entity may deny natural person status under any pretext of genomic sequencing.
1A/1c: Restrictions and discrimination against natural persons based on their genome or genetic profile (whether altered or not) are prohibited.
1A/1d: Human experimentation shall not be conducted for the purpose of obtaining biological materials or research data, nor using healing or benefit exchanges as incentives.
1A/1e: Modified natural person genomes (including non-human/artificial DNA) retain human classification.
1A/1f: No natural person, or any part of their body, may be owned by any individual or organization.
1A/1g: Human cloning is prohibited.
—July 13th, front-page headline of the Transatlantic Herald,
The World Government Parliament passes the 'Human Right to Life and Biomedical Test Subject Protection Act' with an overwhelming majority, and death row inmate human experimentation contract program is terminated.
...Progress always comes at a cost—that's old news, isn't it? It's just that our definitions of acceptable cost have never quite aligned.
With such dismal results, your efforts were truly a waste of time.
She browses through the news section on her handheld terminal, taking a light sip of the iced tea that her guest had eagerly volunteered to prepare.
You've added a bit too much rum, the sweetness even overpowers the tequila's kick. If my niece were mixing this, she'd certainly add some white mint to salvage it.
She sets the slender glass down, offering a dry critique.
I even went out of my way to learn from a bartender friend... Perhaps you could consider it an experience of a unique flavor?
The smooth-talking blonde man blinks.
Speaking of which... you came up from the Lucky 38 casino, have you already met my niece?
From what I know, your people had some issues with her.
Since when did Polard Agency operatives get this careless? Exposing their identities in public, of all places?
Just a bit of necessary misdirection. Since that private detective we recruited is playing the conspicuous fool, I can move freely while blending into the crowd.
Of course, your sharp-eyed niece still saw through it. Besides Eleanor, I doubt anyone else would have recognized what was so special about that revolver.
This kind of verbal sparring is more of a customary greeting between them before they get down to business.
In the end, Kurono just doesn't buy into Project Eden's feasibility.
Of course. The Zero-point Engine has been proven theoretically, so successful experiments are just a matter of time. But the colony ship's ecological life support... Nobody's ever guaranteed that.
Initial population, reproduction models, shipboard ecosystems—too many variables.
Picture this: A colossal ship with limitless energy, taking a decade just to hit 25% light speed.
Sadly, she had barely left the Oort Cloud before the passengers on board drowned in their own excrement and carbon dioxide.
Whoosh—the ghost ship speeds onward to its new Homeland!
With a rather twisted sense of humor, he hooks his thumbs and gestures with both hands to mimic a pair of wings.
The hostess forces a hollow chuckle through her nose.
Is that why you've pinned your hopes on human augmentation?
Exactly. But the media are such a hassle. Originally, Kurono provided compensation to the families, and the death row inmates voluntarily signed up as test subjects—it was clearly a win-win situation.
Yet exposés keep popping up in the papers, claiming we mistreat death row inmates.
I've drafted several "Public Safety Information Control Acts", but unfortunately, my Parliament colleagues lack the necessary awareness.
The details mentioned in this report by your dear friends in the media seem far more dramatic than a mere scandal.
...An explosion recently occurred at a secret research facility under the Kurono Group, accelerating the deliberation and voting process for related legislation.
Monzano picks up her data pad again, scrolling through the screen while quoting the news in a decidedly sarcastic tone.
The path to becoming gods is a dead end, so we're left to live out our mortal lives. In the end, your stance has won, former Director of the North American Institute of Ecological Sciences.
After all, the human body has its limits. It seems we have no choice but to follow your vision... and launch The Cradle, with its self-sustaining ecosystem, into the stars.
The blond man takes the loss in stride. He even offers compliments in response.
These days, people just call me "the Mogul of Las Prados".
Thank your brother and his wife for dropping dead. You, as Eleanor's guardian, clean up nicely—she gets the inheritance, you get the territory. Everybody wins.
You're here to secure budget for Kurono? You really don't know your place.
Come on, no need to be so harsh. I need your help this time.
Though New Neilis Air Force Base has been repurposed as Las Prados Spaceport, its surrounding infrastructure still houses military-industrial and launch facilities.
The 32nd generation space environment simulator has been validated at Tsiolkovsky Aerospace City.
But even if a colony ship can linger in deep space, the longevity of a functional human society within its ecosystem remains an open question...
Kurono has gotten where they are today by following one principle—never putting all their eggs in one basket.
The institute's expertise is the key, and the air force base's facilities are the keyhole. Let's turn the lock and reopen Project Bokonon, and weave a new future for the far-sighted, Madam Monzano.
The man's voice swells with enthusiasm, his invitation morphing into a fervent pitch.
Since when did you pick up this bad habit of discussing business without bringing money? Where's the budget?
Her retort cuts to the chase. Years ago, Kurono axed Monzano's project, diverting resources to their so-called "next big thing"—starving the North American Ecological Science Institute of funds.
Pumping endless resources into improving the life support systems? That's just delusion.
"Humans are not sending themselves to outer space. They are bringing the Earth's ecosystem there." That was your line when you shuttered our institute.
So Kurono's new plan is rounding up death-row inmates, hoping to cook up superhumans who can survive deep space?
Don't you find it laughable?
I get your frustration. That's why we've secured an unlikely backer.
Should I call him a man of the hour? Anyway, he still has some business to attend to, and is expected to visit Las Prados in October to discuss further project details with you.
Monzano slams her glass against the table in displeasure.
Jokes stop being funny when they bounce. You want to know what happens to those who write checks they can't cash? Take a stroll through the cemetery on the outskirts of town.
I'm merely a public servant who happens to occupy a seat in the World Government Parliament—powerless, without influence, and completely clean. Being a messenger is the extent of what I can do.
As for the nightlife of Las Prados, it remains as exhilarating as ever.
He changed the subject.
They say even old Copperfield raves about the summer light shows. Since I'm here, I might as well see what the fuss is about.
If there's nothing else, I'll take my leave now.
The blonde man flicks his bangs aside with exaggerated flair, then straightens up from the plush leather sofa.
Let it be.
For the sake of our years of working together, here's a little reminder: the city guards here are all former veterans of Kurono's armed division. If you want a peaceful vacation, better not stir up any trouble.
Rest assured, Madam Mogul. I've always been forthright, never defer payments, and don't play petty tricks.
He turns away from the hostess by the floor-to-ceiling window, raising an "OK" gesture toward the air.
Ah, you must be Ms. Eleanor! What a coincidence! Have you finished dealing with all the trouble?
A petite figure in the violet dress approaches from the opposite end of the corridor.
Are you a guest of my aunt's? I apologize for subjecting you to such a spectacle.
No, no, no, I should be thanking you, miss! Such a spectacular roulette duel—it's the first I've witnessed in my entire life!
I still have matters to discuss with her, Kephart.
The clear dismissal echoes from the other side of the room—this is the first time Monzano has addressed him directly by name.
I'll leave you two alone, then. Good night, ladies.
The man briskly walks toward the end of the hallway, tactfully closing the door behind him.
Is there a chance he's eavesdropping? By the sound of his footsteps, he hasn't gone very far.
He's well aware of the surveillance everywhere and wouldn't be foolish enough to make that mistake.
Monzano tilts her chin toward the terminal on the table.
Just as you instructed, Aunt, Las Prados' resources are about to be redirected to your old project, aren't they?
I have no doubts about his proposal itself—what's suspicious is what happened to you earlier.
An off-the-books detective from the Polard Agency working with a Kurono-affiliated councilor... That's a clear violation of the group's confidentiality protocols. And that old man? He's got deep pockets—he almost never brings in outside investors.
The memory-uploading and human-modification research has just encountered setbacks, and then ecological sphere research is abruptly restarted. This is far too coincidental.
The girl stands quietly by the sofa, then, as if suddenly enlightened, gives the hostess a knowing smile.
I remember... You often told me to examine things with proper scrutiny, yet seize opportunities when they arise.
The girl cautiously offers a suggestion, but Monzano wastes no time seizing control of the conversation.
A lucky hand might seem like pure chance at first, but once you run the numbers, it becomes clear—it's most likely a trap set by your opponent in cahoots with the dealer.
However, even a temporary advantage can become a turning point—the key is seizing it at the right moment.
Well, you can't plan a counterattack without holding the right cards.
Yes. A manipulated game carries risk, but the payout is correspondingly unmatched.
I don't recall asking for your advice.
Monzano cuts off the girl who was agreeing with her.
No offense. I shouldn't have said that.
Truth is, we won't know if this is Kurono's internal power struggle or just some money grab... unless we dance with the devil ourselves.
Besides, this might be our last chance to revive Project Bokonon.
She conceals any ripple of emotion in her voice as she gently turns to gaze at the lights outside the window.
Neon casino signs, scattered with deliberate artistry, punctuate the gaps between opulent buildings. Spotlights stain the early summer night sky in a mesmerizing brownish-purple hue. Here, the game is the one true law.
Since the establishment of the World Government, the end of history seems to have become nothing but a fallacy.
Humans fanatically push everything to the extreme—energy, engineering, biology—as if the world would end if they didn't build a Tower of Babel in just seven days and nights.
Maybe it was that restless hunger that made me refuse Fred and join Kurono. May he rest in peace.
The woman deliberately glances toward Eleanor, only to find her expression as calm as ever.
She doesn't restrain her emotions, but continues her impassioned commentary.
And Las Prados is the ultimate entertainment. Humans are bizarre creatures—the further reason takes them, the wilder their release.
Resources from the City of Sin, now fueling the pursuit of the unknown... How ironic.
I won't waste this opportunity.
I've always been curious... if I may ask, Aunt, what exactly does "Bokonon" mean?
It's supposedly from a book the old man greatly admired. Too bad the author was a deranged mad doctor.
Kurono's people are always speaking in these cryptic, mystical ways. Disgusting as always.
I prefer calling my life's work by its most straightforward name...
<color=#ff4e4eff><b>Eden Type-III Colonial Ship</b></color>.
Her gaze drifts past the tightly packed buildings beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. Eleanor knows the woman's thoughts are fixed on a place somewhere in the northern suburbs beyond the city.
New Neilis Air Force Base—where humanity, poised to step proudly into the stars, is forging its own safety net.
Location Unknown
Code Name: Fort Winter
Six months later
Traces of the biting wind blades carving away for thousands of years cover the exposed rocks. The fortress facility, half-hidden by snow and mountain, stands as the only mark of civilization in this far northern land.
Is this the "North Asian Research Institute of Life Science and Evolution"?
The man steps from the helicopter's rear cabin into the snowstorm, removes his eye mask, and gazes at the mountain range behind him with admiration.
Hah, I think this fits the researchers well.
A well-groomed gentleman steps onto the platform from the landing pad's suspended stairway.
I've long heard of your reputation, Mr. Godwin. I also caught wind of the recent news—a mere laboratory accident, yet those mediocre minds, who had their eyes on your project all along, seized the opportunity to make a fuss and even put an end to all your efforts.
Fortunately, you had the right people backing you, ensuring that a pioneer like yourself wouldn't be cast aside so easily.
Sample CB103, lost in the explosion, is now in the hands of the one who sent me to meet with you. He asked me to assure you—your work will not be seized by the four major powers under the World Government.
I have no interest in hearing any more about the Queen Bee Project or any other nonsense.
The old man's obsession with those lunatics killed the dream of transcending flesh. They derailed the project worse than the media ever could.
My boss knows this. We believe space demands enhancing human's adaptability through mechanical modification, not those misguided delusions like M.I.N.D. fusion.
Here, you'll have full support. My boss sends his regards—a name you might recall.
He hands over a sleek, minimalist business card. Godwin accepts it with a cursory glance.
...Is it that doctor-writer who was in the news? Even someone like me, who spends all their time in the lab, has heard something about it.
I heard that they pushed patients to kill themselves. Well, only some wealthy eccentric with such twisted proclivities would be willing to fund such inhumane experiments.
Godwin's mouth twists in a wry smile.
Well then, I hope we'll have the opportunity to meet again.
He ducks into the helicopter Godwin just left, rotor-blown snow stinging Godwin's face.
Feeling the chill, he wraps himself closer with the coat.
So cold...
The vast light-years stretching between Earth and potentially habitable worlds feel like an endless winter—one humanity is doomed to never cross. But this time, humanity will make a true attempt to leave The Cradle behind.
This is also why he signed that suspiciously long contract and came here.
Here, humanity will have the opportunity to take the ultimate step in evolution: immortality.
Clang...
As the black steel doors open, the sound of a rotating shaft brings Godwin back to reality.
What he fails to realize is that the investor lurking in the shadows has already arranged every detail of the sifting operation.
Godwin casts one last glance at the snowy mountains, then turns back and steps into the dark passage.
