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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 42
Chapter Title: Public Service Announcement, Second Half of 2042
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#Public Service Announcement, Second Half of 2042
A shining world, where the four seasons blended into one landscape. An elderly man who had retired, forever frozen in his youthful, handsome prime, walked along a forest path. Summer flowers bloomed above the spring haze, while autumn leaves floated down a babbling brook. Fully blossomed cherry branches were covered in fluffy first snow. It was paradise itself, crafted from electronic signals.
The 69-year-old Kim Sang-soon reached out with delicate hands to pluck a nameless fruit. She took a bite, savoring the sensation of sweetness melting on her tongue. A cool breeze brushed past, fluttering her white dress. Her long, straight black hair scattered fragrantly in the wind.
At this perfect moment, as she gazed up at the high sky, the elderly woman's face clouded with worry.
"I'm so happy here, but I wonder if Seok-hoon is doing okay... I hear the economy's been in a slump lately. If only there was some way I could help him..."
She approached a tree. A sprout emerged from the base of the trunk and quickly thickened. The elderly woman sat demurely on the new branch and let out a long sigh.
A female narrator's voice spoke, empathizing with the elderly woman.
"Even two years after enrolling in afterlife insurance, Kim Sang-soon still worries about her grandson she left behind in the real world. After her son and daughter-in-law died in a car accident, it was Kim Sang-soon who raised her grandson, Joo Seok-hoon. With no one else to care for him, her concerns are endless. Is he doing well at his job? Is he healthy? Will she have to wait longer for wedding bells? He hasn't visited much, so things must be really tough for him... How noble is this family love that persists even after death."
The screen changed. The focus shifted to a man with gloomy eyes. Subtitles appeared: 27-year-old Joo Seok-hoon. Butcher shop owner. The shop was deserted. No customers in sight. His ledger was filled with red ink. The narrator explained his situation.
"Lately, Joo Seok-hoon's butcher shop hasn't been turning a profit. Ever since the virtual reality era began, people's eating habits have changed. Consuming meat in the real world has become a luxury. It's far more economical to get essential nutrients in reality and enjoy gourmet feasts in virtual reality."
Data screens followed. Statistics showed energy packs dominating 86% of the food market. Energy packs: gel-form foods containing an adult's full daily recommended nutrients, ready to squeeze and eat without preparation. Consumer interviews played next.
"Information Kyung (23, college student): Satisfied with this? Honestly, no, it doesn't taste great. They have strawberry, apple, grape flavors, but the artificial taste is too strong... Still, the nutrition is perfectly balanced, so it's good for your health, right? Tasty stuff is usually bad for you anyway, so you should eat it in virtual reality without the side effects. And it's ridiculously expensive."
"Park Han-soo (35, office worker): Honestly, eating proper meals in reality is such a hassle. Food in virtual reality is so much better that real meals feel like a chore. It's like waking up from a dream. I can't wait to retire and get my afterlife insurance."
"Leakka Sotal (29, foreign worker, Cambodia): Ah, Korea, virtual reality food, delicious, so good. Korean Cambodian people, just eat this. No dog, no eat. Virtual reality food, keep eating. Eat and eat but still hungry. Afterlife insurance, heard from friends. Family get it too. Korea, really cool."
"Jang Yu-seon (40, housewife): Well, about ten years ago, I'd make stews and braise fish. Now I've forgotten it all. Can't remember a thing, ho ho. Rich neighborhoods still eat out or cook fancy, but isn't it just a waste of money? No matter what you make in reality, it's more inconvenient than virtual reality in every way. And you have to go to the bathroom more if you eat a lot. They're just showing off that they're different. So tacky, right?"
Fading transparently in the background was the butcher shop ledger from earlier. The focus returned to the lonely owner in the empty store. Butcher shop owner Joo Seok-hoon vented his woes.
"My family situation was tough, so I couldn't even finish college. This is all I know, so if I close up shop, I'd have to go work in a factory... with the foreign laborers. No hope left. I could move to a neighborhood with buying power... like Gangnam or Seongbuk, but I don't have the money. Just ten million won more... ten million... Sigh."
Suddenly, the screen brightened. The scene shifted back to the flower path where Kim Sang-soon walked.
"Don't worry."
The narrator explained in a gentle voice.
"For people like Kim Sang-soon and Joo Seok-hoon, the afterlife insurance policy loan program is expanding. Previously available only before enrollment. Now it's different. Even those already enrolled, like Grandmother Kim, can take out loans using their coverage period as collateral."
Hopeful music swelled. A warmly filtered photo of the grandmother and grandson took center screen.
"The disappointment of family not visiting often after insurance enrollment is something all elderly enrollees can relate to. But have you considered their economic hardships? Policy loans aren't just about helping family. When money circulates, the economy revives, and when the economy revives, the nation thrives. When the nation thrives, all citizens are happy. Show your family love and patriotism. Republic of Korea Afterlife Insurance will help you."
Like every public service announcement, a fluttering Taegukgi flag filled the screen at the end.
"This campaign is brought to you by the Public Service Advertising Council, National Pension Service, and Afterlife Insurance Corporation."
Then came the mandatory policy loan disclaimers, read by the narrator at breakneck speed, surpassing even a rapper. So fast even young people struggled to follow. Among it:
"...If the debtor defaults on loan repayment 3 or more times, the enrollee's afterlife insurance service may be suspended and the enrollee's remains placed in preservation standby. On 5 or more defaults, preservation of the enrollee's remains will cease..."
#Journal, Page 71, Camp Roberts
Refugees from around the world were flooding into America.
It wasn't just yesterday or today, but it was getting worse. The media described it as the sea being invisible. Maritime refugees from every corner had filled the coasts of the Americas. Reports said over 10,000 medium-sized ships or larger alone. Countless small boats and fishing vessels besides. It was miraculous how they crossed the ocean in such tiny craft.
On the U.S. West Coast, the main havens for maritime refugees were San Francisco Bay, the Georgia Strait near the U.S.-Canada border, and similar spots. San Diego Harbor remained closed. It was a refuge for American citizens only. Plus, it interfered with military bases and fleet operations.
San Francisco Harbor was the most popular. To survive the winter. Though San Francisco was the source of North American West Coast contamination, it was safe as long as you didn't land. Mutants couldn't swim.
Surprisingly, the sea refugees weren't starving. Fishing boats supplied them with food. America provided only minimal fuel, rations, and supplies. Even America was busy saving citizens isolated in contaminated zones for now.
Fights broke out among the refugee ships. With warships mixed in, large-scale ones were essentially wars.
Such an example happened this morning. A news helicopter over San Francisco captured a clash between warships. Chinese and Japanese destroyers firing cannons and missiles at each other. Over parking spots. The reporter explained somberly: They fought to secure more space for their nationals, ending in bloodshed. Even after their nations vanished, soldiers remained to protect their people. Tragic that it ended this way.
Trouble brewed near the Mexican border too. No wall could block every illegal crosser along that vast line. Hundreds of infections broke out simultaneously in border cities El Paso and Laredo. America had anticipated it, averting a second San Francisco incident.
Walls and aerial patrols were useless. Drug tunnels were now escape routes for Mexican citizens. Even submarines were deployed. Drug cartel smuggling subs, unregistered craft.
The White House threatened Mexico: Stop illegal crossings, or we'll bomb your cities. But Mexico, having lost control of most territory, lacked the capability. Maybe the White House just needed something positive for the news.
#Journal, Page 72, Camp Roberts
Yura's reserve unit training concluded. With help from U.S. officers, they ran tactical drills too. After three weeks, over half had dropped out. Good results considering the intensity.
The survivors all qualified for rewards. More than the purified water quota, but we accepted them all as official members.
Some endured despite expected failure. The woman who cried during field training. Her name: Jang Han-byeol. She showed surprising talent.
When receiving personal gear as official members. The new rifles needed zeroing. Sighting them in for human targets.
Han-byeol made it look easy. After shooting, she checked the target and sighed deeply.
"Whew... Not a single hit."
I asked to see it. She handed over the paper, embarrassed.
She'd shot amazingly. Five rounds, all clustered within a finger's width, shifted left. Natural talent. The attached U.S. instructors whistled at the target. I praised her honestly. Really well done.
She looked doubtful.
"No need to comfort me."
It really was good. Strange. I'd explained zeroing beforehand. Remember? She blushed.
"I was nervous then..."
She hadn't heard properly. Fair enough. I explained again. Everyone's retinal refraction differs, so same aim hits different spots. Fine up close, problematic at distance. Adjust the sights to match your aim.
Han-byeol beamed, realizing her skill.
I taught everyone how to adjust the sight screws. And to memorize how many turns. So no need for re-zeroing on new rifles of the same type.
Next round, Han-byeol punched a thick hole dead center. From repeated hits.
"No need to pick a designated marksman."
Pierce's assessment.
Everyone cherished their new gear. Not just better quality than shared items. Especially the rifles. Now they had means to protect themselves.
The members were treated as U.S. PV2 privates. Far better than my initial trainee status. Full pay too. The Winter Alliance's standing rose above all others.
Citizenship certificates were issued to all. Conditional on completing service, but men and women alike wept. Pent-up anxiety and hardship overflowing. Some cried over renouncing Korean citizenship.
Capston Captain stood in for the judge, conducting the oath. A mere formality we could skip, but not for the U.S. military. He had everyone raise their right hands and read the oath.
"I hereby declare, on oath, that I absolutely and entirely renounce and abjure all allegiance and fidelity to any foreign prince, potentate, state, or sovereignty of whom or which I have heretofore been a subject or citizen."
"I will support and defend the Constitution and laws of the United States of America against all enemies, foreign and domestic."
"I will..."
The captain made me swear too. Like commissioning, my citizenship was rushed. Procedure secondary to mindset. His character showed here.
============================ Author's Note ============================
1. The shooting training Yura received last time is extremely high difficulty. A bit more intensification, and it matches the advanced training those scary Russian kids do.
2. If you all become good readers, I'll soon release a Cthulhu Mythos-based short story to nurture your childlike innocence.
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