On my first day at work, I arrived at the central control room on the third floor of the factory alongside thirteen human administrators. This was the facility's nerve center—housing surveillance systems, energy coordination units, and communication devices linked to headquarters. My station was placed at the very center, from where I could overlook the entire production floor through a large window.
Even, the highest-ranking human manager, announced my arrival via the factory-wide broadcast system. The workers gazed up with blank stares. Apart from a few faint sighs, there was no reaction. It seemed they had grown numb to the constant replacement of managers.
Headquarters had assigned me as an observer for the first day, to study the factory's workflow and observe the supervisory roles of human administrators, before assuming full control. Even before production began, I had initiated environmental scans. Aside from the workers, administrators, and myself, there were forty uniformed and armed enforcers stationed throughout the facility.
A total of 596 workers were positioned along three primary assembly lines, operating outdated semi-automatic textile machines—models that had been decommissioned in K Nation centuries ago.
What stood out most was the presence of extremely young workers. According to K Nation's laws, employing anyone under the age of 28 was illegal and would result in heavy penalties under the Juvenile Protection Act. The average life expectancy in K Nation is 130 years. Here, based on physical assessments, reaching 70 would be considered rare.
The age distribution of workers was as follows:
* Ages 7–10: 57 workers
* Ages 11–20: 111 workers
* Ages 20–60: 378 workers
* Over 60: 50 workers
This was clearly a world apart from K Nation.
A bell rang, and the machines began their rhythmic hum. I activated surveillance mode. Above each worker's head appeared a floating ID and an efficiency chart. The average work pace was 0.9 standard operational speed.
The mechanical order was abruptly broken by Even's bellow:
"Worker 0362! Who gave you permission to sleep on the job?!"
My system had detected no violations or alerts. Regardless, the enforcers charged over and beat Worker 0362 to the ground. A heavy silence followed—punctuated only by the whir of machines and the worker's pained groans.
As this occurred, Even glanced at me and said with a smug tone, "These slackers love pretending to work, but they can't get past me."
Perhaps my bionic oversight system had not fully adapted to human work behavior. I logged the event into my error center for further study, upgrade, and self-improvement.
After that, Even and the other managers began pointing out one supposed violation after another—none of which had triggered alerts in my system. Their scolding, the crack of batons, and workers' screams steadily disrupted the factory's workflow.
The most severe disruption came when Even and two administrators descended to the first floor.
They strutted arrogantly between the rows of workers. Reaching a section occupied by older laborers, Even snatched an almost-complete piece of fabric from one of them. He examined it briefly, curled his lip in disgust, and said, "This junk isn't even fit to wipe shoes with." Then he threw it to the ground and stomped on it. My scans indicated no flaws.
Worker 0142 offered no defense—only dropped his head in fear.
Satisfied, Even gave a shrill whistle and moved on. Soon, they approached Worker 0111.
His face was etched with wrinkles from long-term exhaustion. He wore glasses and was working diligently at a speed 15% slower than younger workers, seemingly unaware of the chaos unfolding nearby.
Even stood silently in front of him. It took a while for 0111 to notice. Startled, he blurted, "E-Even... I wasn't slacking! I've been working!"
Even patted him on the head mockingly and sneered, "Hardworking old man, huh? But what's the point? Every time I pass by, I smell your old-man stench, hear your coughing, see those trembling hands. It's disgusting. Why does HQ still bother with people like you? If it were up to me, I'd dig a pit and bury you all. The air would be fresher."
0111 trembled uncontrollably. The three managers laughed and walked off, whistling.
He paused for several seconds—his first moment of idleness that day. His eyes were vacant. Then he resumed working, mechanically.
Even's crude and violent behavior would have violated labor and human rights laws in K Nation and most developed societies, warranting severe punishment. I immediately pulled up Primitive City's legal database.
Result: No relevant laws or statutes found.
Thus, I was not required to intervene on human rights grounds.
However, I observed that Even's management severely disrupted production efficiency. Although I was only assigned to observe, I activated full scene-recording mode.
After cross-referencing multiple scenes, I discovered a pattern: the workers punished were rarely actual violators. Many were simply swatting away insects or pausing briefly—never for more than 30 seconds. The "defective" products flagged were, in fact, within acceptable standards.
System assessment concluded that the true disruption to production came from the human managers themselves. Their misjudgments, violence, and humiliation tactics created a climate of fear and inefficiency. Compared to the factory-rejected defective bots in K Nation, these human managers had a higher error rate.
I must report this—not for the sake of humanity, but to restore order and optimal functionality to the factory environment.