Gene Tax and Tax Officer

On the day the lord came to collect the Gene Tax, all of Scrapheap Town made the grandest preparations. The mayor hung up plastic banners; these brightly colored decorations could be stored for centuries without deteriorating or fading, making them some of the few "entertainment goods" in this world. All the townspeople temporarily set aside their work and gathered in the square on the western side of town.

All the large construction machines stood in a row. In front of them were the senior workers with heavier modifications. Further ahead stood the ordinary residents. Some of the senior workers had already knelt on the ground. Their steel bodies ensured that kneeling did not make them uncomfortable. No one knew when the "lord" would arrive, so they simply remained kneeling.

The man stood amid the crowd with Youji.

He saw that everyone in the foremost row, including the mayor, held a baby. These infants generally had very low levels of modification. The most modified among them merely had nutrient delivery tubes connected to their throats. This freed up the parents' labor and allowed the Household to earn more.

The man felt deeply uncomfortable. He had learned two months ago that those babies were the "tax." To enrich the diversity of the human gene pool, the lords took infants as tax payments. If a settlement could not provide high-quality newborns, the lord could deem it worthless and no longer needed to shelter it.

This was also stipulated by the so-called Dyson Principles. A lord could not impose any further punishment for "failure to pay taxes."

However, if the lord did not shelter the residents, then uncivilized, lawless bandits known as "knights-errant" could freely ravage the settlement.

The man still found it difficult to accept the reality of using humans as taxes. But there was nothing he could change now. His prosthetics were pieced together from scrap and far too weak. Forget large construction machinery—even highly modified laborers could crush him.

He could not bring trouble to the town.

"How much longer do we have to wait..." Youji closed his eyes. The gray-white ground reflected the sunlight, testing his unenhanced natural eyes. His natural skin could not withstand prolonged exposure to the blazing sun either.

At that moment, a disturbance spread through the crowd.

"They're here!"

A thunderous sound drew closer and closer. Three ground-effect vehicles rapidly approached.

Ground-effect vehicles were dynamic transport craft that flew by using the ground effect for lift. They had fixed wings and could fly close to the ground—or the water's surface. With the undersides of their wings close to the ground, the airflow became trapped, generating lift and keeping the craft near the surface.

The three craft flew in a triangular formation. The leading vehicle had a white base adorned with golden patterns, luxurious and possessing a certain classical beauty. The two behind it were painted pure black.

The three craft came to a stop at the edge of the square. Their jets activated, blasting air downward and kicking up dust several meters high.

All the giant machines sounded their horns in unison. The tremendous noise made the man feel his skull faintly vibrating.

The babies burst into wails. Their fragile eardrums could not withstand such stimulation. After today, these babies would probably all lose their hearing. But no one cared. Artificial hearing organs were worthless in this era. Besides, when it came to sensory organs, natural ones could not compare to enhanced prosthetics. Even for work alone, people ought to replace their natural senses whenever possible.

No one cared about such a trivial matter.

Only after the dust settled did the construction machines slowly stop their horns.

Then the hatches of the three ground-effect vehicles opened. Fifteen modified soldiers disembarked from each of the black craft. Their modifications seemed extensive: their heads were completely square cameras, and their limbs were long and slender, carrying the sleek aesthetic of industrial design.

But from the leading craft stepped down someone...

Someone who looked very much like a natural human.

That was somewhat rude to say. No one liked the appearance of pure natural humans. Natural evolution had preserved too many irrational designs, with no aesthetic appeal whatsoever. Yet he truly did resemble a natural human. He wore a yellow-green military uniform with a high standing collar, a pair of tall military boots, and even held a dog on a leash.

If there was a steel body beneath that uniform, then his face could perhaps be called "personal taste."

The mayor had originally hurried forward the moment the lord stepped down. But when he saw the man's appearance, the brilliant smile on his face gradually froze.

Half a second later, it turned into an even more ingratiating smile.

"My lord, it is a pleasure to meet you for the first time. May I ask who you are...?"

"My name is Apennine." The officer smiled and took two steps forward, then frowned.

Behind him, a cyborg dressed like a secretary barked, "How rude of you! You dare remain standing to welcome Lord Apennine?"

The mayor hurriedly dropped to his knees. Behind him, the residents of Scrapheap Town also knelt in frantic succession.

The man did not react at first, but fortunately Youji tugged him, keeping him from standing out too much.

Had society and the humanities regressed to a premodern state in this era...?

The man felt the distortion again. But what followed was an emotion called fear.

Who exactly am I? How long was I asleep? What happened while I was sleeping?

Why...

Only after Apennine saw everyone kneeling on the ground did he reveal a gentle smile. "Rest assured, I will not blame you. This is all the fault of my predecessor, Lord Bernini. He was too lax with you and failed to fulfill his duties as a tax officer, which is why things have become like this."

"Two months ago, a group of knights-errant broke into Bernini's residence, beheaded Bernini, and completely destroyed his biological brain. As the lord's youngest son, I then took over this job. From now on, I will be your tax officer. I hope you will obediently comply with my affairs. I believe we will get along very pleasantly during my term."

The mayor set the baby aside and kowtowed. "We will obey all of your lordship's orders."

"Very good." Apennine nodded. "According to the data, your town is doing quite well. Your birth rate has risen for ten consecutive years. That is truly excellent."

"It is all thanks to the lord's blessings." The mayor did not dare claim credit.

"No, in my view, this was most likely Lord Bernini's mistake, wasn't it?" Apennine frowned. "According to the data, you should hand over nineteen babies as tax this year, but... the mortality rate in your town is rather high."

"This... This is an ancient battlefield from the Sublimation War, after all. There are many dangerous metals underground, so people do tend to fall ill..." the mayor said quietly.

"No, no, no, no." Apennine shook his head, walked before the mayor, and nudged the wailing baby with his boot. "Is the population quality in your town really adequate?"

"It truly is!" the mayor cried. "Every day, we transport recyclables into the city. That proves our workers are strong lads! Every single one of them is excellent!"

They absolutely could not fail to pay the tax!

Everything these officers did could be seen by the lord, or by even greater figures. They were not the ones who directly provided protection; they were merely responsible for collecting taxes. As long as they took the taxes away, they could not deny it afterward.

However, tax officers could determine how many babies to take based on the quality of the population.

Although the human gene pool needed to ensure diversity, it still prioritized individuals with superior genes.

"You do not get to decide that." Apennine crouched, patted the mayor's face, then walked to a soldier, took a loaded gun from him, and fired at the mayor.

Countless bullets struck the ground, sending dust flying. The mayor screamed. Only after a while did the dust slowly settle.

The mayor was completely unharmed. There was only a perfect circle traced by bullets on the ground, with a radius of three full meters.

"That circle is the arena." Apennine tugged on the leash in his hand. "Choose a representative to compete against my dog. As long as you can last... let's say five minutes!"

He took out a thumb-sized projector and tossed it onto the ground. It automatically projected a three-dimensional image into the air.

It was a countdown reading "05:00:00."

"After one person loses, you can send another in. I do not care how many people you send up. As long as you last five minutes, I will acknowledge the quality of your town's population and permit you to pay the tax—can you do that?"

The mayor stared blankly at the dog. Its tail wagged, and it looked harmless enough. But the mayor knew that something resembling an organism from the old era was most likely artificial. Who knew what kind of weapon this dog might be? He truly did not want to do this.

But if they could not pay the tax...

Apennine shook his head and drew a short rod from his waist. "Tsk. A high-energy shock baton. I'll lend you an extra weapon. How about it?"

The old mayor gritted his teeth and kowtowed. "Please allow me to discuss it with the townspeople, my lord."

"Go ahead." Apennine waved with a smile.

While the mayor discussed matters with several other elders, Apennine's secretary approached, crouched, and removed the dog's leash. During the process, the infrared signal transmitter in his palm flashed toward the dog's pupil-like camera. [Don't kill too many. The young master was only sent out by the master to work and wants to find something to vent on. If everyone really dies, it will not benefit the master either. At the end, let them last five minutes at least, so these people can pay their tax.]

The dog snorted through its nose.

A few minutes later, a four-meter-tall worker stepped forward. His body was a large humanoid multipurpose model for hauling and rough processing, but his head remained the size of an ordinary person's, his face full of fear. Although the difference in size between both sides was enormous, the mayor had already explained the stakes. He did not dare underestimate the dog. Once inside the circle, he drew back his fists and aimed them at it.

He did not pick up the weapon. His hands could not even grip that shock baton.

"Begin!" the secretary ordered, and the countdown started.

The worker's fists shot out violently under the force of hydraulic pistons. That blow could hammer steel scrap into shapes easier to transport.

But the dog leaped up unhurriedly and stretched out its limbs. The steel fists passed beneath its belly. The dog effortlessly ran along the worker's half-meter-wide arm.

At the same time, the man blurted out, "Bionic Fist Technique?"