On the day His Lordship 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 products" in this world. All the townspeople temporarily put aside their work and gathered in the square on the town's western side.
All the large construction machines stood in a row. Before them were the higher-ranking workers with more extensive modifications. Further ahead were the ordinary residents. Some of the senior workers had long since knelt on the ground. Their steel bodies ensured that kneeling caused them no discomfort. No one knew when His Lordship would arrive, so they simply remained on their knees.
The man stood amid the crowd with Youji.
He saw that the people in the front row, including the mayor, were all holding infants. These babies generally had very few modifications. The most heavily modified among them only had nutrient-delivery tubes attached to their throats. This freed up the parents' labor and increased the family's income.
The man felt deeply uncomfortable. He had learned two months ago that those infants were the "tax." To enrich the diversity of the Human Gene Bank, the lords took infants as tax payments. If a settlement could not provide enough 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 "failing to pay taxes."
However, if the lord no longer sheltered the residents, then uncivilized, uneducated thugs—the Vagrants—could freely ravage the settlement.
The man still found it difficult to accept the reality of human beings being used as taxes. But there was nothing he could change now. His prosthetics were cobbled together from scrap and far too weak. Forget large construction machines—even workers with higher degrees of modification could crush him.
He could not bring trouble to the town.
"How much longer do we have to wait..." Youji closed his eyes. The grayish-white ground reflected the sunlight, putting his unenhanced natural eyes to the test. His natural skin could not withstand such prolonged exposure either.
Just then, a disturbance ran through the crowd. "They're here!"
A thunderous roar approached from afar. Three ground-effect vehicles rapidly drew near.
Ground-effect vehicles were transport craft that used the ground effect to generate lift. They had fixed wings and could fly close to the ground—or water surface. With the undersides of their wings near the ground, the airflow became trapped beneath them, generating lift and keeping the craft close to the surface.
The three vehicles flew in triangular formation. The lead craft had a white base adorned with golden patterns, luxurious and carrying a hint of classical beauty. The two behind it were painted pure black.
The three vehicles stopped at the edge of the square. Their jets activated and blasted air downward, 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 infants wailed. Their fragile eardrums could not endure such stimulation. By the end of the day, their ears would likely be ruined.
But no one cared. Artificial auditory organs were practically worthless in this era. Besides, natural sensory organs could not compare to enhanced prosthetics. Even for the sake of work, a person should 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 sounding their horns. Then, the doors of the three ground-effect vehicles opened.
Fifteen modified soldiers descended from each of the two black vehicles. Their modifications appeared quite extensive. Their heads were entirely square cameras, while their limbs were long and slender, displaying an industrial streamlined beauty.
But from the lead vehicle came down someone...
Someone who looked very much like a natural human.
That was somewhat impolite to say. No one liked the appearance of pure natural humans. Natural evolution had retained too many unreasonable designs, with no aesthetic appeal whatsoever. But he truly did resemble a natural human. He wore a yellow-green military uniform with a high standing collar, tall military boots, and even held a dog on a leash.
If he had a steel body beneath that uniform, then the appearance of his face could be called "personal taste."
The mayor had approached as soon as His Lordship descended, but when he saw the other man's appearance, the bright smile on his face gradually froze. Half a second later, it changed into an even more obsequious smile.
"My lord, it is an honor 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 cybernetic man dressed like a secretary barked, "How insolent of you! You dare remain standing to welcome Lord Apennine?"
The mayor hurriedly knelt. Behind him, the residents of Scrapheap Town also dropped to their knees in a fluster.
The man did not react at first, but fortunately Youji tugged him, keeping him from standing out too much.
Had social and humanistic development regressed to a pre-modern level in this era...? The man felt that same sense of distortion again. But what followed was an emotion called fear.
Who exactly am I? How long had I been asleep? What happened while I slept? Why...?
Only after Officer Ya Ningping saw everyone kneeling 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 tax officer, which is why things have become like this."
"Two months ago, a group of Vagrants broke into Bernini's residence, killed Bernini, and completely destroyed his Biological Brain. After that, as the lord's youngest son, I took over this position. From now on, I will be your tax officer. I hope you will obey my administration. I am sure we will get along wonderfully during my term."
The mayor set the infant aside and kowtowed. "We shall follow all of Your Lordship's orders."
"Very good." Ya Ningping 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 said, not daring to claim credit.
"No, in my view, this is most likely Lord Bernini's mistake, isn't it?" Ya Ningping frowned. "According to the data, you should hand over nineteen infants as taxes this year, but... the mortality rate in your town is a little high."
"This... This is, after all, an old battlefield from the Sublimation War. There are many dangerous metals underground, and people do easily fall ill..." the mayor said quietly.
"No, no, no, no." Ya Ningping shook his head, walked before the mayor, and nudged the wailing infant with his boot. "Is the population quality of your town actually acceptable?"
"It truly is!" the mayor cried. "Every day, we transport recyclables into the city. That proves our workers are fine young men! Every last one of them!"
They absolutely could not fail to pay the tax!
Everything these officers did could be seen by the lord, or even greater figures. They were not the ones directly providing protection; they were merely responsible for collecting taxes. As long as they took away the tax, no one could deny it.
However, the tax officer could decide how many infants to take based on population quality.
Although the Human Gene Bank needed to preserve diversity, it still gave priority to individuals with superior genes.
"You do not get to decide that." Ya Ningping crouched down, patted the mayor's face, then walked to a soldier, removed a loaded gun, and fired at the mayor.
Countless bullets struck the ground, sending dust flying. The mayor screamed. Only after a long while did the dust slowly settle.
The mayor was completely unharmed. However, the bullets had traced a perfect circle on the ground, with a radius of three full meters.
"That circle is the arena." Ya Ningping tugged the leash in his hand. "Choose a representative to compete against my dog. As long as you can last... five minutes, then!"
He took out a thumb-sized projector and tossed it onto the ground. The projector automatically cast a three-dimensional image into the air.
It was a countdown reading "05:00:00."
"After one person loses, you may send another in. I do not care how many people you send. As long as you last five full minutes, I will acknowledge your town's population quality and permit you to pay the tax—can you do it?"
The mayor stared blankly at the dog. It wagged its tail, looking harmless enough. But the mayor knew that something resembling an organism from the old era was most likely an artificial creation. This dog might be some kind of weapon. He truly did not want to do this.
But if they could not pay the tax...
Ya Ningping shook his head and drew a short rod from his waist. "Tsk. A high-energy stun baton. I will lend you an extra weapon. How about it?"
The old mayor gritted his teeth and kowtowed. "Please allow me, my lord, to discuss this with the townspeople."
"Go ahead." Ya Ningping waved with a smile.
While the mayor discussed matters with several other elders, Ya Ningping's secretary approached, crouched down, and unfastened the dog's leash. During the process, the infrared signal transmitter in his palm flashed at the dog's eye-shaped camera.
[Do not kill too many. The young master was only driven out by his father to work, and he wants to vent his frustration. If everyone really dies, it will not benefit the lord either. At the very least, drag it out for five minutes and let these people pay their tax.]
The dog snorted through its nose.
A few minutes later, a four-meter-tall worker stepped forward. Though his body was a large humanoid model designed for transport, rough processing, and multiple uses, his head was still the size of an ordinary person's, and his face was filled with fear. Despite the enormous difference in size between them, the mayor had already explained the stakes. He did not dare be careless. After entering the circle, he drew back both fists and aimed them at the dog.
He did not pick up the weapon. His hands could not even grip that stun baton.
"Begin!" the secretary ordered, and the countdown started.
The worker's fists shot forward under the force of hydraulics. That strike could pound steel scrap into shapes suitable for transport.
But the dog leisurely leaped up and stretched out all four limbs. The Steel Fists passed beneath its belly. Without effort, the dog ran along the worker's half-meter-wide arm.
At the same time, the man blurted out, "Bionic Fist Technique?"