Job Aptitude Test (4)
I got up from my seat, where I had been watching the progress of the job aptitude test.
[Where are you going?] Artemis asked.
She can tell at a glance if I’m just heading to the bathroom. Since I don’t smoke, when I get up like this, it ans I’m leaving with a purpose.
“I’m going to check out the test site.”
[You can watch it from here, why bother?]
“I’m the type that prefers to be in the field. I want to feel the atmosphere firsthand.”
I wanted to observe the residents taking the test in person, rather than through a monitor. Plus, there were things I wanted to hear: the murmur of people. In the past, it was just noise. But once it's gone, you realize how precious it was. The murmuring, which was once just noise, was now sothing I missed—that special feeling of a space full of people.
[In those clothes?]
I looked down at what I was wearing in response to her remark. It was my usual work outfit, a chanic’s uniform with a patch on the left shoulder that read "Safety First."
Though it was a chanic’s uniform, the company had spent a lot on it, so it was comfortable and the design wasn’t bad. Besides, before I was an administrator, I was an engineer. Even now, as the highest authority, I still often grab tools and navigate between the equipnt. This outfit was practically my daily wear.
“What’s wrong with it?”
She sighed at my question.
[You’re no longer on your own. You’re now the leader managing countless residents. How you appear to others is the foundation of authority.]
In the locker room of the central control room, there was an outfit waiting for , which seed to have been prepared in advance. It was a dark-colored matching set of dress pants and a shirt, perfectly ironed. A beige vest, a checkered tie, and a pair of brown crocodile leather shoes, crafted by Artemis herself from bioengineered materials. The finishing touch was the lab coat I used to wear during my graduate studies, which replaced a suit jacket.
Speaking of Artemis’s fashion preferences, she’s not particularly fond of my chanic’s uniform or comfortable tracksuits. However, she absolutely adores my lab coat, to an extre degree. I suspect it’s one of the few positive tastes she strongly holds.
I once asked her why, and she, unusually flustered, gave a long-winded explanation, which was out of character for her. I found her reaction fascinating, so I kept pressing her, only to get scolded in the end.
Roughly speaking, her explanation boiled down to her preference for an intellectual appearance. She always insists that I personally handle even the smallest adjustnts to her main body. Whenever I enter her room, I must be wearing that lab coat. If I don’t, she gets angry.
Even for simple tasks that I would prefer to leave to the robots, she always replies with, "Absolutely not!" She justifies why I, and only I, must maintain her main body, and her argunts are so logical that there’s no room for objection. I imagine she must have been an incredible lawyer when she practiced in the U.S.
Once I put on the clothes she had prepared, the caras around the room buzzed and were adjusted their angles to observe . After adjusting my outfit a few tis to et her standards, I heard her satisfied voice.
[That will do.]
At last, I was allowed to head outside.
***
At the sa ti, a physical fitness test was underway at the testing site. Typically, fitness tests for jobs include running, sit-ups, push-ups, and grip strength tests, but due to the shelter's unique conditions, the test categories had been modified.
Those aiming for regular jobs took standard fitness tests. However, applicants for jobs in security, firefighting, rescue, and disaster prevention underwent specialized physical tests.
Take the security force test as an example. The first test was to asure strike power—participants had to punch, kick, or use a baton to strike a human-shaped dummy, and the destructive power was asured. Since lethal weapons were not provided, applicants needed to prove their ability to subdue residents with non-lethal weapons or hand-to-hand combat.
It might seem harsh to demand that they control large groups of people with primitive weapons, but it wasn’t. Behind the security force were hornet drones equipped with tasers, guard robots ard with riot-control shotguns, and sentry guns loaded with 5.56mm rounds. Above them, caras kept watch over the entire underground city, and even the air they breathed was controlled by Artemis. The power of this background granted authority to the security force.
“All it takes is making them understand: if they act up, they’ll get hit. Even if they fight back, they’ll lose. If they retaliate as a group, bullets will fly.”
That’s the logic. As long as the security force could subdue one person in a one-on-one scenario, that was enough.
Wham! Wham! Wham!
Applicants for the security force hit the dummies with their batons. Despite the large number of applicants, many were sitting on the ground while watching, as the exam rooms were running simultaneously.
The high number of applicants wasn’t just due to ex-convicts looking for cushy jobs—a significant number of forr prison guards were also applying. Naturally, this brought two hostile groups into the sa space, so conflicts were inevitable.
“Boo!”
“Is that all you’ve got?”
“After everything, you still want to play prison guard? Aren’t you embarrassed?”
The ex-convicts in the waiting line booed whenever a forr guard swung their baton. They refrained from swearing and kept their places, careful not to cause trouble.
The targets of the jeering ignored it, focusing on their tests with a mindset of "I’m not avoiding you because I’m scared of you, but because I don’t want to deal with your filth."
There were two key targets for their strikes: vital points for riot control and non-lethal points for standard control. Though the forr prison guards swung their batons with effort, many received low scores. This wasn’t due to their power or accuracy but because they were deducted points for "aggressiveness." It was a hidden scoring category.
So won, particularly those who failed the test, instinctively pulled their bodies back as they extended their arms to strike with the baton. This posture resembled soone shaking out an eraser—a movent driven by a primal instinct to avoid the enemy.
Artemis judged this as a sign of combat avoidance and deducted points. On the other hand, candidates who swung with their weight behind them, without pulling their bodies back, received high scores.
Like Nina, for example.
Bam! Bam!
She hit the dummies like a fish in water. Her strikes were relentless and full of force. Each blow carried power from her legs through her waist and into her arms and she spun the baton with trendous destructive force. In the combat section, her punches ranked third in power among all candidates, and her kicks took first place, earning her the highest score in the subduing category.
“Hiyah!”
There was also Seyoung. She swung her baton according to the techniques she'd learned from the manual. Although her strikes lacked power, her form was perfect. However, when it ca to punching and kicking… it was almost pitiful to watch.
"So cuteee!"
The prisoners cheered for Seyoung, mixing half-mocking tones with genuine affection.
After the forr prison guards finished their strike tests, the female prisoners participated in quick succession, with most performing better than the ex-guards. They were stronger, and many had no hesitation when it ca to violence, which resulted in a much more aggressive approach to their attacks.
For the running portion, they only conducted a 100-ter sprint and skipped the 1000-ter long-distance run. In an enclosed underground city, after all, there's nowhere for a target to run if they're trying to escape. AI would imdiately seal off every exit route to trap them like rats in a cage. Plus, they were drones and sentry guns to assist. In reality, there was no need for any chase.
Similarly, sit-ups and push-ups, which had no real application in practice, were removed entirely. Instead, they tested back strength with a drill where participants had to flip themselves from a lying position to simulate escaping from a mounted position in a grappling situation. They also tested strength and endurance, which would be necessary for close-quarters combat.
“Hey, hey, over there.”
Among the waiting participants, a woman pointed to the corner of the second floor. A man, arms crossed, was observing the scene. No one knew when he had arrived, but everyone in the room recognized him. They would have studied the city's information while hoping to join the security force and likely prepared for possible exam questions.
Everyone had researched the city's history, organizational structure, and current leadership. Naturally, they'd co across details of the sole survivor and highest-ranking administrator.
As a few people turned to look, more followed, and soon, everyone in the testing area was gazing up at him. Caught off guard by the attention, he stiffened for a mont, then slowly waved with a smile.
The reactions were divided. The ex-prison guards responded respectfully and bowed their heads as if they were greeting their superior—even though they hadn't officially been assigned to the security force yet.
Most of the prisoners cheered and reacted positively as well. His authority as the top administrator, his background as a forr military officer—and not just any officer, but a high-ranking one—and the overwhelming combat skills he'd displayed in the shelter reclamation mission, as seen in video footage, all combined to give him a powerful charisma, especially in tis like these.
Watching this, Seyoung let out a bittersweet smile. No matter how many tis she thanked Jinsoo for their rescue, it would never be enough. The care he had extended to her was beyond words. With such a positive response from the security force candidates, most of whom were skilled fighters, she didn’t need to worry about issues of control in the future.
However, this also signaled the true beginning of the survivor military faction era, marking the end of the history that had persisted under the na "Republic of Korea."
Seyoung was a practical woman. She didn’t have the luxury or the ingratitude to harbor any complaints. She would continue to cooperate with him in governance to the best of her ability and was filled with gratitude. Still, she couldn’t shake the lingering feeling of lancholy.
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