After the project began, he hadn't expected it to get stuck at the very first step. The efficiency of the American government was truly something to behold. After the project was submitted, they were still taking their sweet time reviewing it. The review alone would hold things up for months, and that didn't mean it would pass after those months, either. That was just the review; once it was done, they would have to wait several more months for approval.
Should I set up some kind of efficiency department for them too? This was far too slow. At this rate, they couldn't even get to the shit while it was still warm. He missed how fast things moved back home. For a major project like this, wouldn't they make a special exception and get it done at blazing speed?
The project was going through the motions now, and by the looks of it, it wouldn't be finished in less than six months to a year. Ever since he became a shareholder in Stark Industries, he'd had nothing to worry about, and he was actually getting bored. No wonder those American tycoons came up with so many ways to amuse themselves. As the saying went, once people were fed and clothed, their minds turned to lust. When you didn't have enough to eat, you had only one worry; once you did, you had countless worries. There weren't any good games to play in this era, either. Now, apart from refining his armor and stabilizing Gillvalis every day, all he had left to do was go to Cybertron and watch the planet being repaired.
Quintessa had been brought back too, along with a whole lot more Transformers. Now she had become his secretary. As the saying went, when there was work, the secretary did it; when there wasn't, hehehe.
But this gave the people at S.H.I.E.L.D. another headache. How had another person with no records popped up? Nick Fury had personally dropped by for tea, not just because of Quintessa, but also because of the robot army last time. After repeatedly confirming with Rimuru that they were civilian agricultural robots, he also took a few back for evaluation. But the ones he took were basic T-600s, and Rimuru didn't care. Those things didn't even have weapons, anyway. At most, they were just fairly sturdy humanoid robots. What can you do to me? Hit me, idiot.
Nick Fury's single eye watched the T-600 perform various movements in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s testing ground. Its movements were smooth and precise, but utterly soulless. It looked like a very robotic robot. He took a sip of coffee. The taste was a little strange; he hadn't finished the "tea leaves" he'd swiped from Rimuru last time, and some had gotten mixed in.
"Civilian agricultural robots," he repeated Rimuru's explanation, tapping his fingers on the table. "Civilian agricultural robots that can lift a one-ton load and plant potatoes in lava?"
Agent Coulson, standing beside him, struggled to maintain a professional expression. "Theoretically, yes, Director. Their material is an alloy we haven't fully analyzed, but they really don't have weapons systems. Their power cores are very stable, even excessively so."
"Excessively stable?" Fury raised an eyebrow.
"Like a reactor that's been deliberately restricted." Maria Hill walked in and handed him a report. "We tried simulating extreme conditions: electric shocks, high temperatures, low temperatures, and powerful electromagnetic interference. It automatically enters hibernation before it takes damage, then receives a reset command from a backup node we can't locate. It isn't stored locally. It's remote."
Fury's single eye narrowed. Remote commands, untraceable nodes. It reminded him of some less-than-pleasant experiences, such as those lingering Hydra remnants he could never seem to finish rooting out.
"Stranger still," Hill continued, "when we took apart the third one, we found its processor had expansion ports reserved. Standard military specifications, capable of loading tactical modules, weapons control systems, even advanced protocols. It's like... like it was originally a tank, but its software was flashed to make it a tractor before it left the factory."
In the lab, the T-600 happened to turn its head, its optical lens sweeping across the observation window. For an instant, Fury had the feeling the machine was looking at him. Not a mechanical scan, but an observation with a hint of amusement. And he was right: Gillvalis was watching.
He set down his cup and considered whether to go have tea again.
Rimuru really did have plenty of free time at the moment.
His shares in Stark Industries made money automatically every day, and Pepper kept everything in perfect order for him. His armor had been upgraded to Dragon Knight and could now reach near-Earth orbit on its own and return through the atmosphere. Only its color scheme remained undecided, as he kept wavering between "Thanos purple" and "nouveau riche gold."
Gillvalis's consciousness was running stably in Cybertron's planetary core, processing trillions of planetary reconstruction calculations every day. Quintessa, the former "Creator," now wore a business skirt suit and high heels as she projected a holographic schedule before him.
Hmm~~~ This feels great!!!
"Lord Rimuru, at three this afternoon, Mr. Stark has invited you to test his new reactor energy stabilizer. At five, Ms. Pepper Potts would like to confirm where next quarter's charitable funds will go. At seven this evening, you have a virtual meeting about Cybertron's reconstruction and its future direction."
"Sounds like I've still got plenty to do." Rimuru sprawled on the soft sofa, eating a packet of spicy strips he'd ordered online from back home. They had come through an unofficial shipping channel, and the shipping cost was two hundred times the price of the strips themselves.
"All of those are optional." Quintessa smiled. She had learned human expressions quickly. "Your actual project is still stuck in some office in Washington, awaiting the third round of committee review."
Rimuru chewed on a spicy strip and gazed out the window at the New York sky. Slow, far too slow. With the efficiency he remembered, a high-speed rail line could go from planning to operation in a few years. And here? Months had passed, and they hadn't even gotten all the official stamps.
"Quintessa," he said, suddenly sitting up straight, "what do you think would happen if I tweaked Cybertron's 'rapid construction protocol,' disguised it as a 'government process optimization AI system,' and anonymously mailed it to that inefficient department?"
"Based on my simulation and analysis of the current human bureaucratic system, it would most likely be classified as a 'potential security risk' and shelved indefinitely." Quintessa's answer was very rational.
"Then what if... I had a few T-1000s disguise themselves as congressional interns, go to the key people's offices at three every morning to wipe down their desks and organize their files, and 'optimize' their workflow while they're at it?"
"That would be regarded as infiltration and provoke an international dispute. Also, Lord Rimuru, the T-1000's disguise module can currently only make it look like a tall Scandinavian-but it doesn't sweat or drink coffee."
Rimuru slumped back down. That was the root of his boredom: too much power left him hamstrung instead. Crushing an ant was easy, but making an anthill run efficiently the way you wanted? Hard!
He recalled the probing look in Nick Fury's eye when he'd come for tea last time. S.H.I.E.L.D. was a nuisance, but it was also fun. Maybe... I should find something for them to do?
"Quintessa, send an upgraded T-600 to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s testing ground. Just tell them... we've launched a deluxe edition of the agricultural robot, with added automatic lawn mowing and crow deterrence functions."
"Which modules specifically should I upgrade?"
"Quietly unlock that restriction protocol by ten percent." Rimuru flashed a mischievous smile. "Then load it with a nonlethal anti-crow protocol, like using infrasound to drive birds away, or firing harmless gel pellets. Set the frequency to... close to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s communications band."
When your project was stuck in the quagmire of bureaucracy, the best way to relieve your boredom was to create a few harmless but headache-inducing puzzles for the people watching you. Maybe Fury's coffee would taste a little worse as a result.
Rimuru yawned and decided to give himself the night off. The bureaucrats could be tomorrow's headache. As the saying went, drink today's wine today, and worry about tomorrow's troubles tomorrow. For now, he wanted to try the "Chinese massage" technique Quintessa had just learned, using those tentacles of hers that could work with precision down to the cellular level.
He'd also have 715 cut him a plate of fruit. He finally understood why most ancient emperors were muddleheaded rulers.
Oh~~~ This feels great!!!