The apocalypse had arrived. A world where poverty and scarcity choked people's throats. A world where factories stopped and supply chains broke - where stopping ant death.
Even though the world we knew had died, people stubbornly survived by adapting to their environnt. Everyone changed to find their own way to survive.
The teacher who visited earlier was like that too.
I stared at the man with wide eyes in disbelief. I couldn't believe my ears.
"...A school? You're making a school?"
Apparently that teacher announced plans to rebuild a school by gathering other surviving teachers and tutors. And on quite a large scale too.
"The scale is big. They're collecting tuition from parents, accepting donations, and even requesting support from the military and police," the man explained while flipping through his notebook.
Even with the world like this, parents' enthusiasm for education hadn't died - the response was incredibly positive. Kind-hearted people were making small donations too.
As I kept listening, it sounded less like just a school and more like the birth of an entire organization.
A school operating on received food and resources. The military piggybacked on it too, providing barbed wire and soldiers for paynt, and the police were similar.
'Though it feels like the military gathered combat data and changed strategy. Still... a school?'
I narrowed my eyes. I didn't like it.
Modern society had almost completely collapsed. We'd regressed to the past where even minors worked if they were capable.
It was a loss in many ways - losing labor power, paying tuition fees and donations.
"Did we donate anything?"
"No, nothing like that. We already divided resources equally anyway. We don't have anything to donate as a group. But..."
The man turned to look out the window at the people scattered throughout the villa district.
"The kids' parents and elderly folks donated bit by bit. They're children after all. It's school."
I smacked my forehead.
Wasting precious food like that. Were people really doing that well? Had we stockpiled resources too early and too much? Was dividing everything equally a mistake?
I found myself disliking the teacher and school. A black hole sucking up others' resources while providing little value. Worse con artists than Sa Gi-hyeok.
Of course children symbolized hope, future, and protection, but was this really the ti to worry about such things?
This had to be stopped.
"Remote classes would be difficult. Where are they planning to hold the school?"
"They're inviting people tomorrow for sothing like an information session. Let's go see it ourselves."
Seed they were holding an event like a company briefing or investnt presentation. I fell into thought while absently handling my hamr.
***
The new school building was located in a residential area rather than a comrcial district. Though empty schools in zombie territory were available, commuting there was difficult - schools in human territory were sowhat better.
When I arrived with the man and villa district children and parents well before the presentation ti, quite a few people had already gathered.
Middle and high school students wearing uniforms, elentary students in casual clothes, and their parents had gathered in surprising numbers. The atmosphere of curiosity and hope made uncomfortable.
An unsettling sight greeted us at the main gate. Barbed wire on the walls. Barricades installed at the entrance, with two soldiers guarding the gate.
A villa district mother stroked her children's heads.
"Co on, say hello to the soldier uncles."
"Hello, uncles!" The children bowed at the waist.
"We're not uncles..."
"Hi!"
The soldiers smiled at the children, waving their hands.
They say wounds from people must be healed by people. The ntally unstable soldiers seed to be recovering by interacting with people while performing legitimate duties with proper purpose.
It also felt like work to improve public perception.
'Lots of problems here.'
A kind of information warfare was underway, with the military launching a counter-offensive. Friendly soldiers, soldiers ensuring safety, soldiers protecting children.
They really weren't to be underestimated. Minimizing losses, winning local hearts and minds, securing food, ntal recovery - they'd changed strategies this quickly.
"...I'll look around separately."
"Alright. I need to check out these teachers."
After parting from the man, I walked toward the playground.
There were school buses and police in the playground, with police speaking to parents.
"Worried about your children's commute? No need to worry. We'll operate school buses with police escorts, and if we run out of fuel or roads are blocked, police will escort children ho."
They patted their guns reassuringly.
Schools and children. That one thing had united the city's powerful groups. It made uneasy.
It felt like the world before collapse. A world where public authority functioned properly. A safe daily life.
'This isn't right. It's the apocalypse. They should be acting like gangs, moving like warlords.'
Kill people! Plunder resources! Kidnap children for ransom! Use child labor! Isn't that more apocalyptic?
The unfamiliar atmosphere here made feel stifled. Like being forced to wear ill-fitting clothes.
I swung my hamr through the air pointlessly as I crossed the playground toward the auditorium. It was both where the presentation would be held and where the school had stockpiled various supplies.
Murmuring voices could be heard.
"They prepared properly."
"The tuition seems worth it at this level."
Books stacked against the auditorium walls. Parents leafed through them while chatting.
I mixed in among them, examining the books.
'Not new books.'
They seed to be textbooks collected from schools, with doodles and nas remaining. Could be relics of students already dead and gone.
There were also clean workbooks that appeared to be from bookstores or academies.
Plus things utterly useless in the apocalypse like musical instrunts and art supplies.
'No weapons at all. They didn't even capture zombies as teaching aids. Not proper apocalypse education.'
I looked at it all suspiciously. This was a presentation. There must be intent behind this composition. After thinking hard to discover that intent, I soon grasped the situation.
"A recorder? Wow. I got hit with one by a teacher when I was young."
"Crayons... they loved drawing so much."
The parents were lost in mories. Without modern devices like computers or tablets, these emotional tools seed to remind them of the past.
Parents eting for the first ti let down their guard, sharing mories of the past.
It was work to create a good first impression of the school. A familiar school. A school where parents could share their childhood with their children.
The parents already seed to have lowered their defenses.
Perhaps because of that, the reaction was positive when teachers took the stage. They welcod them with applause, eyes bright with expectation and hope.
"So many have co. That must an many of you want to show your children the normal world we had."
The elderly woman who stepped forward as representative spoke slowly.
From whispered conversations around , she seed to be a vice principal or principal from so school. Sure enough, boring and tedious talk followed.
Children were the hope of the future, education helped them grow into that hope, and so on. No matter what disaster struck they couldn't give up on children's education, etc. Let children experience normal student life rather than survival and disaster...
'No. Why waste so much ti on superficial talk.'
Shouldn't they just summarize the key points? This is their only path to survival as educators. Education is a product. We'll do our best because we'll starve if we can't sell this product.
I looked around but surprisingly, people were watching the old woman with impressed expressions.
Not just parents, but even police and soldiers.
The emotions were off. I needed to adapt quickly. I hastily smoothed my frown and muttered:
"Good words."
"She's clever. Really hit on wealthy parents' hopes."
The man beside spoke in a chilling voice. He subtly pointed at the people around us.
"They're all from major survivor groups, well-fed people. Those with food to spare - those desperately surviving can't afford tuition and couldn't co. Know what this is?"
"What?"
Was there sothing I'd missed? When I looked at him questioningly, he answered shortly:
"School ties. School connections for the new era. They're reviving that."
School connections. I suddenly glimpsed the future. When the current generation of adults died off, wouldn't these children band together under the na of this school?
Was this preparation for the future? Giving children a na to unite under?
Moreover, unlike children focused on survival, these school children would accumulate knowledge, creating a gap...
I looked at the people around us. People showing no signs of hunger, as the man said. The aristocrats of this city. A school to maintain those connections.
The man spoke coldly:
"We should probably exclude the children's parents. Kids talk carelessly. They might leak important information without realizing."
"Understood."
This wasn't simply about showing children a better world. It was truly a long-term investnt seeking intangible returns, farming humans.
I closed my eyes. I'd let my guard down.
'Right. People aren't stupid. They wouldn't send kids to school just for the school experience.'
Carelessness was a shortcut to death. I needed to stay sharp. Doubt everything, grasp intentions, calculate invisible profits and losses.
The old woman's voice continued.
Disease prevention asures, police subduing infected students with tasers, plans to teach zombie and raider defense in PE class, lessons on basic farming and repairs...
By then I'd finished my calculations.
'The school's existence is a loss for .'
Just improving the military's image was bad enough. The military with their remaining bullets and weapons were an unstable elent - a school interfering with efforts to damage military perception was unnecessary.
Above all, I hated the possibility of the school becoming a focal point. People grow stronger when united. What if groups rged around the school and children's relationships? An enormous group would be born that would be hard to deal with.
'Whether zombies or people, they need to decrease.'
Limited city resources.
The fewer people consuming resources, the more resources for . It benefited when people doubted each other, divided, fought, died. The city's resources were consud less by the number of dead.
Better to have small groups squabbling.
I clasped my hands in prayer.
'Please zombies. Co out zombies. Co make chaos.'
It would be good if a parent - no, a student - turned zombie and caused an incident here. Please co out. Anyone change. Kill by accident. Create division.
Perhaps my prayer was answered.
"Now tomorrow's entrance ceremony-"
"Kraaah!"
"No!"
Near the end of the presentation. A uniford student turned zombie. With bloodshot eyes gleaming, they lunged at people nearby.
But unfortunately, what I wanted didn't happen. The people here had survival experience equal to mine.
"Bite! That's right!"
Soone nearby offered their forearm. A man wearing a leather jacket - after blocking the zombie's mouth with the tough clothing, he knocked it down and pinned it with his weight.
"Stand back!"
At the sa ti police appeared, pushing through people. Taser and two pairs of handcuffs. The subduing ended instantly. The police officer who cuffed the zombie's wrists and ankles bowed to its parents.
"What would you like us to do? We can escort them ho if you want, or sowhere out of sight..."
"...Please send them ho."
The zombie's father turned away silently. He seed tired, or perhaps used to it, or resigned.
Either way, the school presentation concluded.
The man and I walked back with stiff expressions.
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