Facts have proven that no drone with a job should ever hang the word “bored” on their lips.
It leads to trouble.
The following day, at twelve o’clock noon.
Noah, who originally only intended to patrol the [Corporation] headquarters and leave early, was now standing before the floor-to-ceiling window on the top floor, forced to work overtime. He pinched his chin with his right hand, seriously contemplating a grave question.
Why must drones work?
It is so hard to understand.
Noah thought. He lowered his head and looked at the crowd of young drones outside the lobby on the first floor.
The distance was too great. From where the Excellency stood, he could only see the young interns swarming like ants. However, the unique vitality and clarity of youth were unmistakable, as if they were full of passion for their upcoming internship careers.
They were completely unaware that the employee mortality rate at the [Corporation] had been rising year after year.
That is correct, mortality rate.
As one of the Three Houses of the Zerg Federation, the [Corporation] was no longer limited to any single industry. Instead, it used individual planets or even independent civilizations as market units.
Ever since the Federation joined the Star Sea Peace Alliance, it had launched a series of aid programs for lower-level civilizations.
The so-called aid program involved the [Corporation] providing special loans to lower-level civilizations, allowing them to purchase designated scientific technology from the [Academy] to build raw material processing systems on their home planets that met the Zerg’s needs. The civilizations would then repay the principal and interest of the loans by exporting the processed strategic resources to the [Corporation] according to a set ratio, ultimately achieving a full debt repayment scheme.
The interns were about to represent the company in these underdeveloped civilization markets.
Turn a profit, and you stay. Lose money, and you are out.
The high mortality rate was because they were isolated and helpless in foreign civilizations. While most lower-level civilizations were wary of the new Federation drones behind the interns, there were also those who were not afraid of death and chose to take extreme risks, imprisoning the interns in an attempt to seek greater benefits.
Noah changed his posture, lazily leaning against the wall, thinking that this was actually a very good entry point.
If this world were an interstellar novel starring a life form from a lower-level civilization, these interns sent out by the company would undoubtedly be the best starting point. One would only need to find a way to trap the interns, steal their starship, and then connect with the interstellar community as an individual, climbing higher step by step, and finally overthrowing the Zerg tyranny.
Ah.
That was a digression.
Work truly leaves one feeling dead inside. Noah thought languidly.
In the eyes of other drones, they likely assumed the young Excellency was contemplating grave matters of national importance. Little did they know that beneath the male drone’s calm and rational appearance, he was fantasizing about the Zerg race going extinct right now, so that he would never have to work overtime again.
“Excellency Noah, the data you requested is all here.”
Noah came back to his senses.
He nodded slightly to the other party as a gesture of thanks, racing against time to open the electronic employee file and skimming through it roughly.
The [Corporation] adopted a dual-sequence rank system internally, meaning a dual-track system of P-sequence (expert path) and M-sequence (management path). The P-sequence took technology or professional ability as its core, while the M-sequence focused on management ability, running parallel to the P-sequence. Levels above P60 and M10 represented the highest authority of the [Corporation], the Board of Directors.
After thousands of years of development, the number of board members now approached three digits.
But those were just ordinary directors.
The seven lifetime directors who truly held supreme decision-making power and could represent the company in the power games between the Three Houses were the ones who mattered. Among these seven seats, four belonged to privileged families led by high-privilege male drones.
The surname Veroria, which originated from his father, was one of these four. With Noah reaching adulthood, this power naturally fell into his hands.
Noah lowered his eyes, his gaze scanning quickly through the file in front of him, occasionally circling a few names.
He was not actually very concerned about who the mastermind behind his attack was. The truth was often unimportant; the key was who benefited, who handled it, and who had the motive.
In this way, the suspicion against the Holy Land lineage could be lowered to the minimum. After all, Noah’s genetic level was what it was, and even if other male drones wanted to compete, they would not gain much. Instead, if Veroria were out of the picture regarding the company, countless high-privilege individuals would be unable to wait to sit at the table and divide the spoils.
That meant there was a traitor within the company.
He was afraid he would be busy for a while now.
After lunch, Noah took a short nap and quickly threw himself back into his afternoon work.
Over ten years of change, power shifts had naturally occurred within the company. Noah used the information in the file to map out the drones in his memory and, in his spare time, reviewed the latest version of the Criminal Code. Political maneuvering to destroy evidence like Igris was too reckless. It was best to solve things relatively gently. If force was truly necessary, it would not be too late to use high-level political maneuvering.
Thinking of a certain drone, Noah paused slightly.
Speaking of which, had the other party been a bit too quiet these past two days?
Since they parted at the Holy Land, they had not met again. The other party had issued invitations, but Noah had declined them with the excuse of being busy with work. After a few times, the Council Chairman stopped asking for rejection and retreated obediently.
It seemed that everything had returned to the starting point.
Noah, however, felt a bit uneasy for no reason.
When a Drone Consort is quiet, they are usually up to no good.
His Excellency hesitated for a few seconds and, unable to help himself, made a phone call directly to the Council Chairman’s office. He was concise and got straight to the point: “Where is your Council Chairman now?”
The Secretary-General’s expression was slightly subtle. After hesitating repeatedly, and facing His Holiness’s cold, knife-like gaze, he finally told the truth: “Mr. Council Chairman has finished his workday.”
Finished his workday.
Day.
Finished.
Noah’s movements paused.
He looked down at the optical computer in his hand. It was two o’clock in the afternoon. He turned his head and looked at the mountain of physical files in front of him, enough to make him work until two in the morning, and asked calmly, “Finished his workday?”
The Secretary-General hesitated to speak.
Noah: “…” He suddenly had a bad feeling.
The Secretary-General lowered his head in shame and stammered: “It is like this, Excellency Noah, the Chairman only works four hours a day, so…”
Noah: “…”
Who?
How many hours?
For a moment, Noah almost suspected he had heard wrong. Whose Drone Consort worked four hours a day? Then what was he, working from six in the morning until two in the morning?
Was he a fool for punishing himself?
His Excellency calmly exercised his fingers and repeated with a smile: “Where is he now?” His distinct knuckles intertwined one by one, pressing down with a creaking sound.
At the same time.
Aetherealm, Nicole Lake.
The black-haired drone was squatting under a tree with no poise, his head lowered as he patiently adjusted the fishing rod in his hand. Beside him was a wooden bucket with a diameter of half a meter, filled with water, in which eight fish were floating lazily, the result of his afternoon of hard work.
Not far away, the old drone who had also been squatting for the better part of the day touched the fishing rod in his own hand, his expression somewhat complicated.
Igris seemed to sense something.
He blinked his eyelids, which were drooping slightly, and made a prompt, time-critical decision. He reached out to pull the bucket beside him in an extremely casual way. The sunlight fell on the beautiful fish scales, refracting a dazzling, golden light.
The old drone: “…”
Damn you.
Just as the young Council Chairman was pinching his chin, pondering whether the distance between him and the other party would allow the other to accidentally see the eight big, fat fish in his bucket, and whether he needed to make a greater effort to show off, the communication sound on his wrist suddenly rang.
Igris glanced at the name on the communication device and answered reluctantly: “What is it?” The expression of disgust could not have been more obvious.
The Secretary-General, who felt slightly guilty about betraying his own boss: “…”
Haha.
Suddenly, he felt no guilt at all.
Though he thought so, considering the other party was his boss and he had indeed not withstood a certain Excellency’s interrogation, the Secretary-General pondered for a few seconds and decided to save him a little. He said subtly: “Councilor Griffith claims to have a major matter to discuss with you. Would you like to come back?”
Igris did not even lift his eyelids: “Tell him to go to hell.”
“…” The Secretary-General tried to remind him: “Councilor Griffith’s master, Excellency Kaelan, is also coming along. It might truly be an urgent matter.”
“Tell him to go to hell, too.”
The Secretary-General: “…”
Before he could come up with a more intimidating name or event to imply that the other should return to work, the Council Chairman was completely unaware and said without looking back: “Anything else? Then tell them all to go to hell.”
The Secretary-General made a cold face and hung up the communication decisively.
The world returned to silence.
The young Council Chairman stretched, leaned back into the comfortable reclining chair, and basked in the sun in a lazy and leisurely manner.
Good grief.
On such a nice day, anyone disturbing his mood deserved to die anyway.
I did not actually go back to kill them, I am truly a good drone. The Council Chairman thought as a matter of course, and by the way, added a little merit to himself in his heart.
It was also at this moment that a special message alert suddenly rang out.
Frost-white Lop-eared Rabbit: What are you doing?
The wording was simple, the tone plain.
It was just five simple characters, yet the drone who received the message froze, as if an instinct engraved into his DNA had awakened. He rose from the reclining chair instantly and stood straight.
The next second, he woke up as if from a dream.
That is not right.
The big block of ice that was originally his master has lost his memory. This one that remains is nothing more than a little ice cream that is weak on the outside but tough on the inside. What is there to be afraid of?
Thinking this, the Council Chairman chuckled softly and lay back down in a calm and composed manner.
Indifferent, calm, and unmoved.
Does a mere little ice cream want to manage him?
It took only a few seconds for the young Council Chairman to come up with social niceties to brush off the other party. However, before he could turn his stomach full of ghosts into actual text or voice, a cold voice, synchronized with the message alert on his optical computer, rang out behind him.
Frost-white Lop-eared Rabbit: Think before you speak.
“…”
He turned his head.
Not far away, the young and beautiful Excellency lifted his eyes slightly, spoke calmly, and smiled: “Finished making up your story?”