A Grand Excuse

It had been roughly a hundred days since the war with the Mercenaries officially ended. Inside the executive office of Roma Station—the current headquarters of the Rising Sun Alliance—Taro was drowning in a sea of post-war paperwork. His eyes drifted toward the calendar on his desk, staring blankly at the date.

"Has it really been three months already? Crap, if I'm not careful, I’ll blink and realize I’ve turned into a senior citizen. That would suck."

Taro grumbled to himself, reflecting on a quarter-year that had flown by like a kinetic slug.

Between high-level summits with neighboring powers and endless sessions with the Alliance Council, his schedule was a nightmare. He’d spent his days hand-writing letters to the families of over a hundred fallen soldiers and scrambling to manage the sudden influx of immigrants and spies. It occurred to him, far too late, that his last actual day off had been before the war even started.

"............Wait a second. Isn't this a total violation of the Labor Standards Act?"

Taro frowned as he recalled the Common Law he had personally drafted for the Alliance.

Under those rules, employees of companies based within the RS Alliance were strictly prohibited from working more than 120 hours in any 240-hour window. He’d modeled the legislation after his memories of Earth’s labor laws—which, shockingly, were a complete anomaly in the Galactic Empire.

"However, the law states that emergency situations are exempt, Mr. Teiro. And is that not exactly what we are facing?"

Koume, who was busy working at one of the three desks in the room, didn’t even look up as she spoke.

"True enough, I guess..." Taro sighed, letting his weight sink into the plush backrest of his ergonomic chair.

"Furthermore, Mr. Teiro, there is a specific provision stating that the limits do not apply to those whose personal profits are tied directly to the company's success. Have you already forgotten the very clause you insisted on adding?"

"Ugh... Look, I have a strict policy of never remembering promises that are disadvantageous to me. You’d be surprised how many of our business partners operate on the same principle."

"You should save the sleep-talking for when you are actually unconscious, Mr. Teiro. While your excuse is amusing, as a human being, you are behaving like the absolute worst. Truly, you represent a segment of the population that ought to be eradicated."

"Haha! Yeah, I feel the same way half the time. Searching through contracts for specific clauses is a pain, and those guys really do get on my nerves."

"Physically?"

"............No, okay? No. The death penalty is definitely overkill. The fact that I even considered it for a split second is terrifying. I’m scaring myself here."

Taro used [BISHOP] to disengage the chair’s tilt-lock. He laced his fingers behind his head and stretched out as the seat reclined until it was nearly horizontal.

"Haaa... I’ve got enough money to spend the rest of my life just messing around. Why the hell am I still working? Dammit, maybe I should just rewrite the law."

He groaned, his sigh heavy with the weight of his own success. Taro’s personal wealth had long since reached "filthy rich" status; he was officially a man who never had to lift a finger again if he didn't want to.

"As an AI who must dedicate her entire existence to labor, I find your complaints difficult to process," Koume said, tilting her head slightly. "I can only inform you that working is the natural state of being. Labor is defined as a noble pursuit."

"Man, I am so jealous of your programming," Taro muttered, shrugging.

"Besides, even if you attempted to change the law, the market and the Council would likely revolt. In certain sectors—mostly manual labor—the working hour limits have actually hindered the competitiveness of Alliance firms. The current regulations were only passed after significant concessions. This is the limit of the status quo."

"I mean, I get it. But honestly, seeing kids like Sophia and her brother working from dawn till dusk? That’s just messed up, no matter how you slice it. They should just mechanize that stuff already."

"Indeed. However, in this galaxy, that is simply the norm, Mr. Teiro. Aside from a small circle of elites who receive a formal education, this is the reality for everyone—even in the Imperial Center. Furthermore, if you mechanize manual labor, you destroy the jobs. If the saved labor costs were redistributed to the workers, it might work, but we both know that will never happen."

"............Yeah, you're right. It definitely won't. The rich will just get richer. But wait, shouldn't talent gravitate toward better conditions? Statistically speaking? Like market theory—companies should compete by offering better perks until things balance out, right?"

"Mr. Teiro, have you forgotten the Right of Belligerency?"

Taro blinked, confused for a moment, before his face twisted in realization.

"Oh... They’d just crush the competition physically, wouldn't they? Wait, is the entire galaxy just one big price-fixing cartel? 'Do what we do or we'll kill you'? That’s brutal."

"Perhaps not that blatant, but in essence, yes. However, since there is no single entity orchestrating it, it has simply become a culture. These rules are laid down by individual companies and organizations at their own discretion."

"Some 'culture'... In that case, we’re definitely the more civilized ones here. And I know it’s rich coming from a lazy bastard like me, but there’s more to life than just working."

Disgusted, Taro kicked his chair back into an upright position and rested his chin on his palm.

"Koume recognizes that humans are fundamentally lazy creatures. However, the desire to be lazy is often the primary engine of progress. Great inventions are frequently born from the urge to do less. The emotion of laziness itself is not inherently evil."

Koume delivered this philosophical nugget as if she were reciting a weather report.

"Right?" Taro agreed. "There’s that saying, 'Necessity is the mother of invention.' Or was it 'mother’s milk'? Wait, 'mother’s milk' sounds kinda lewd... Anyway, if that's the case, my motivation to work is disappearing even faster. I’ve already built an environment where I can be as lazy as I want."

"Mr. Teiro, is it not because you wish to be free?"

"……Huh?"

"Freedom. Humans are creatures that can only define freedom within the context of restriction, Mr. Teiro. Perspective is relative. In an environment with zero constraints, freedom cannot exist—though, by that same token, neither does hardship."

"............Uhh, okay. So you’re saying I’m choosing to be tied down? Since when did you become a philosopher?"

"Negation, Mr. Teiro. Koume is merely an AI. While forced restriction is unpleasant and there are limits to what one can endure, choosing your own burden is an exercise of freedom in itself. Humans are curious beings; your emotional distinction between yourself and others is quite blurred. You will likely continue to struggle until everyone you care about enjoys the same freedom you do."

"No way. That’s basically the same as saying I have to work forever............ though, put that way, it doesn't sound so bad."

Working hard for the sake of others. If he followed Koume’s logic, it was the same as working for his own sake. It was a nice thought. Deep down, he knew she wasn't entirely wrong.

Then, sensing the trap Koume was about to spring, Taro spoke up.

"Besides, once I find Earth, I’ll finally be free from the 'curse' of having to look for it."

Taro smirked. Koume gave him a slow, solemn nod.

"Exactly, Mr. Teiro. And since you are now such a mature adult, you should be able to accept the following: the deadline for the Alliance’s Common Mental Age Assessment was last week. I 'accidentally' forgot to mention it to you. You should view this missed opportunity as a minor inconvenience—a small price to pay for the freedom you have claimed. You’ve truly grown up."

"HEY! CAN SOMEONE GET ME A DRILL?! A TUNGSTEN CARBIDE ONE! I NEED TO DISMANTLE A CERTAIN PIECE OF JUNK MACHINERY RIGHT NOW! I CAN'T BELIEVE I WAS ACTUALLY MOVED BY THAT SPEECH! ALSO, I AM CLEARLY NOT AN ADULT, AND YOU’RE THE ONE WHO JUST KILLED MY CHANCE TO BECOME ONE!"

Taro screamed as he lunged out of his chair. To his surprise, the office door swung open immediately.

"Sorry, Boss, no drill on me. Besides, even if you took her apart, the little lady would just put herself back together. Though, if you want a drill I'm not using............ No, wait, that's a bit too much self-burn even for me. You got a second?"

Alan walked in, dressed in his usual grease-stained work clothes and bandana. Taro gestured for him to take a seat with a "Sure, brother," and the man sat down with a heavy thud.

"Phew............ Alright, where do I even start?"

Alan exhaled a long breath and rubbed his chin with a grave expression.

"Is this important?" Taro asked, his voice dropping.

"Yeah," Alan replied, looking troubled. As Taro straightened his posture, Alan leaned forward. "To be honest... I’m not sure how to say this. I’ve lived a lot of life, but I’ve always been crap at this kind of thing. I really wish I could’ve left this to Dr. Arzimof."

"Wait—hold on. Is it that bad? Did someone die?"

"No, no. Almost all the wounded are back on their feet. We did lose one guy in the General Affairs Department, but he was pushing ninety. Natural causes."

"A-Ah, right. I heard about him. I sent some condolence money and a pension for his family............ Wait, is the Dandelion Squad being targeted again?"

"Haven't heard a peep. Actually, the squad’s pretty popular these days. They took the brunt of the fighting, so everyone’s treating them like heroes."

"Okay... then what is it? Just spit it out!"

Taro stood up, his anxiety redlining. Alan stood up too. He took a couple of hesitant, apologetic steps toward Taro, then nodded as if finally steeling his resolve.

"The Mental Age Assessment check was last week. I really meant to tell you... I’m so sorry."

"I ALREADY KNOW! DAMMIT! I ALREADY KNOW!"

Taro threw himself back into his chair, covering his face in mock-sobs. Through the gaps in his fingers, he saw Alan’s "solemn" face vanish, replaced by a massive, shit-eating grin.

"Dammit, you definitely knew and kept quiet on purpose............ Alright, what’s the real news? The Head of Intelligence doesn't walk in here just to prank me when he’s supposed to be drowning in counter-espionage work."

Taro pouted. Alan shrugged, then leaned in close, the humor instantly draining from his eyes.

"We found Eden. Phantom went to the coordinates himself to verify. It’s the real deal. You’d better start coming up with an excuse to take a few days off."