Story Reader / Interlude / The Chess Player / Story

You might have saved me this time, but the humans will still throw me away in the future.

Why wouldn't you just let me die there and then?

You should see what the people in the Maintenance Depart are like... Take a look at how they treat the wounded.

He once said, "You matters because you are you."

I saved you because you are you, and that reason is more than enough.

Never give up your life so easily, even when you are a Construct.

Doesn't matter what our bodies are made of. A life is priceless either way.

I... will not watch a teammate die, and I will not accept a future where Constructs are tossed aside.

As for this... Well, the Maintenance Department is packed to the brim right now, so I thought I'd just get a quick treatment until they're done being so busy.

How about you? Why are you here?

Thanks for saving him, Chrome. I hope he survives.

That's not enough.

Even if I've managed to save a few Constructs this time, this will still happen again and again.

If I don't come up with a real solution...

I can drag him away from swarms of Corrupted, but I cannot lift him from the abyss.

Sigh... He wasn't always like this. He used to be quite easygoing with all his dirty jokes. But the squad he was in was completely wiped out in a scout mission.

When the Rescue Force arrived, he was about to jump into the Red Tide. Took them a lot of effort to keep him from diving in, but still, he changed after that.

No one knew what happened during that mission. It wasn't until his maintenance was over that he found out the commandant from his original squad was promoted and transferred to another team.

We're just tools to those humans, after all. Perhaps there's nothing strange for them to throw us away when they're done with us.

We're fighting to reclaim Earth right now. I wonder how the humans will see us once our job is done and the war is over?

Something went wrong with our planned route, and we went through an area filled with Corrupted.

We tried our best to take the refugees to safety. We went through layers of Corrupted to save the kids in the camp.

I had to carry the children back to the safe zone against a hailstorm of bullets. But when I put them down, one of them looked at me and cried.

He cried, and he yelled, "It's a monster."

I took a look at my reflection in the river, and that was when I found out that my whole body was scarred and burnt from the attack.

Especially my face. Since the temperature of the shrapnel that hit it was too high, the artificial skin of half of my face had melted.

...I suppose a human wouldn't even be able to stand.

While I stood in front of the child, looking like I'd be joining the Corrupted at any moment.

...Realizing that, my M.I.N.D. deviated drastically.

Then I got sent here.

A very talented doctor treated me then.

Not only took my delirious complaints seriously, he patiently comforted me.

For a moment, I felt like I was treated as a "human."

It made me... less desperate.

It made me think that perhaps humans and Constructs can understand each other.

It should've been like that, shouldn't it?

We were one and the same originally, weren't we?

They do that because they never understand what Constructs are.

A single slander on Constructs can create panic among humans.

How could I not notice that?

We are Constructs. We travel from the battlefield to the Maintenance Department and back. We accept missions, and then we complete them.

The humans who survived, those sitting on their thrones comfortably in Babylonia, barely have the chance to know us.

Who has the time to consider the relationship between humans and Constructs when we can barely survive and win this war against the Punishing Virus?

Don't get too obsessed, you.

But the names of the wounded and dead Constructs in the battle have not even been mentioned.

Chrome's monitor shows the news of a commandant getting a promotion, followed by a rousing, inspiring speech. He clutches his fists.

I can save him from destruction, but not desperation.

I can drag him away from swarms of Corrupted, but I cannot lift him from the abyss.

Even having chosen to become a Construct, all I can do is follow the rules and complete the missions, earning praises. Just like before.

You even stopped asking about your teammates' whereabouts after a word from your father.

Are you afraid?

You're afraid that you've made the wrong decision. You're afraid that your choices will lead your team to their doom.

Because you've never made any choice for yourself in the past. Every move you make, you make them in other people's shadows.

You're thinking that, if only you were a human, you'd be able to fight for the rights of your fellow men and lead them away from their inevitable end.

As a mere Construct and a squad captain, you have no power to sway those arrogant humans and their prejudices.

Can they be the missing pieces of the solution?

I'll teach you how to identify what is worthwhile and what to abandon in the future.

Mr... Smith.

Why do I have to become a Smith, sir?

You will become the perfect being and inherit everything of mine.

You will search, and you will be.

Constructs?

You should know the gist of Constructs by now. They are the modified soldiers fighting on the surface.

And you, Langston, will be the one who commands them.

What are you doing with those pointless words? Those masquerading titles serve no real purpose.

You should've known this by now.

Become a commandant, gain victories, grasp real power, and proceed to higher places.

That is what you should do as a Smith.

Like father, like son, I say. Truly worthy of the legacy of the Smiths.

We'll be counting on you to take care of us then.

The Smith Estate is frequently visited.

Most of the time, he just needs to keep to his study. If he runs into the guests on his way to school or back home, he will politely greet them.

That is "Langston's" routine on top of his path to becoming a "Smith".

The guests, their faces all blurred together, will pat his head and compliment him as an excellent successor.

Except he has no interest in them. These praises are for a Smith, and he has yet to become one.

If he keeps going non-stop, day after day, then one day—

The part of you that remains when that shell of a body is cast aside.

Even... if we live to see the day we win... there won't be a future for us, will there?

I thought you were just another perfect facade the folks at the top created to comfort us.

Victory will belong to humans.

Langston was raised to be a leader.

"Constructs" to him then slowly became data in the simulated battles. They were resources he could use, his leverage to reshape a fight.

But ever since he became a Construct, he has realized that Constructs are no different than humans. They also feel pain and tired. They laugh when they find something funny and cry when they see something sad.

The contempt, distrust, even the caution and fear are all very real, despite them hiding in the shadows as they wear down the soldier's will and corrupt the human's heart.

Humans always fear what they do not understand, especially the elders in positions of power. They know little about the evolution of technology, and Constructs are no more than weapons used to reclaim Earth to them.

But the only difference between Constructs and humans is what their bodies are made of.

Despite no longer being flesh and bone, Constructs are still humans. They deserve the same future.

When humans reclaim Earth, the names in the history books should not just belong to humans.

If Constructs cannot share a fate with humans, their divide will only grow, and when the distrust bubbles and boils over, they will never be able to understand each other again.

If he had not become a Construct, he would not have discovered the unfair treatment they receive.

Humans and Constructs need a "bridge" that connects them.

Maybe this is something he can do, being both.

If he wants a say in this, he has to be strong enough.

If this is what is necessary to achieve his goal, he does not mind taking advantage of "himself."

He opens his comms and finds the person he is looking for, and he sends out the transmission request.

Mr. Asimov.

There's no doubt that you are the best person for this project.

But have you looked into the cost of equipping a specialized frame?

I understand the risks.

I've made my choice.