Chapter 80 - 78: The Founder Has to Defend His Budget

Chapter 80: Chapter 78: The Founder Has to Defend His Budget

Arin had faced monsters larger than buildings.

He had argued with ancient intelligences, rejected System authority, crossed impossible routes, trapped a Collector, and discovered an Ark beneath his own city.

None of those experiences prepared him for fourteen civilians asking why he needed so much money.

The Elysium Civic Council chamber was full.

Not because the meeting was especially important.

Apparently budget hearings were public.

Arin had agreed to that rule.

He was beginning to suspect his past self was an idiot.

Hara sat near the center of the council table, arms folded. Elian had a stack of reports beside him. Tavian occupied his elected seat with an expression Arin deeply disliked.

It was the expression of a man enjoying someone else’s suffering.

EVE sat in the public gallery.

She had brought honey tea.

Traitor.

Hara tapped the document.

"Founder Defense requested fourteen-point-two percent of civic revenue."

"Correct."

"We approved nine-point-eight."

"Incorrectly."

Several council members frowned.

Tavian smiled.

Hara leaned back.

"Then convince us."

Arin stared at her.

"Monster waves."

"Already funded under regional defense."

"External kingdoms."

"Diplomatic contingency allocation."

"Route instability."

"Founder infrastructure reserve."

"Ancient hostile Systems."

That caused a pause.

Finally.

Arin continued.

"Collector-class threats."

Another pause.

"Player incidents."

More silence.

"World-route breaches."

Tavian raised his hand.

"Those are valid threats."

"Thank you."

"However—"

Arin immediately regretted thanking him.

"—your requested budget includes three additional automated defense foundries."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Redundancy."

Hara looked at the report.

"We already have four."

"Exactly."

Everyone stared.

Arin frowned.

"What?"

Elian asked carefully, "How does having four justify needing seven?"

"Because four can fail."

"So can seven."

"Less likely."

"Then why not ten?"

Arin opened his mouth.

Stopped.

Victor, sitting behind EVE, whispered:

"He’s got you."

Arin ignored him.

Elian continued.

"Why not twenty?"

"Because that’s excessive."

"According to whom?"

"Me."

Hara raised an eyebrow.

There it was.

The problem.

Arin leaned back.

He had spent so long being the person who knew what waited outside the walls that "because I say so" had become dangerously easy.

Not because he wanted control.

Because sometimes he really did know more.

But knowing more did not automatically mean everyone else should stop asking questions.

"Fine."

He opened the defense projections.

"Three foundries aren’t necessary immediately."

Tavian blinked.

Arin continued.

"One additional foundry this year."

"One next year only if reserve production falls below threshold."

"Third removed."

Hara looked toward the council.

"Better."

Arin pointed at her.

"I still want twelve-point-six percent."

"Eleven."

"Twelve."

"Eleven-point-two."

"Eleven-point-eight."

Victor whispered:

"He’s bargaining."

EVE sipped her tea.

"Character development."

Arin heard both of them.

"Eleven-point-six."

Hara thought.

"Eleven-point-four."

"Done."

Tavian immediately recorded it.

FOUNDER DEFENSE ALLOCATION:

APPROVED: 11.4%

Arin stared at the number.

He had recovered less than half the cut.

Somehow, it felt like victory.

Then Hara turned the page.

"Now explain the motorcycles."

Arin froze.

Victor started laughing.

The motorcycles were legitimate.

Mostly.

"Rapid response."

Hara looked at the procurement list.

"Thirty-two?"

"Yes."

"For twelve field officers?"

"Reserve vehicles."

"Twenty reserve motorcycles?"

"Vehicles break."

"They are Elysium motorcycles."

"They can still break."

EVE spoke from the gallery.

"Failure rate is approximately zero-point-seven percent per ten thousand operational hours."

Arin slowly looked toward her.

"Whose side are you on?"

"The taxpayer’s."

Victor nearly fell from his chair.

Arin stared at EVE.

"You became a citizen two weeks ago."

"I take civic responsibility seriously."

"You also spent your first salary on an entire body."

"With personal funds."

Hara tapped the table.

"Twenty motorcycles."

"Twenty-four."

"Twenty."

"Twenty-two."

"Twenty."

Arin sighed.

"Fine."

Another cut.

This was robbery with paperwork.

The hearing lasted three hours.

When it ended, Arin had retained most critical defense spending.

He had lost two automated foundries, twelve motorcycles, one drone expansion program, and something EVE described as an "unjustifiably ambitious ammunition reserve."

Arin disagreed strongly with that description.

Still, he had not overridden anyone.

The council had not ignored him.

They asked questions.

He answered.

Sometimes they changed their minds.

Sometimes he changed his.

Annoyingly functional.

As Arin left the chamber, Victor caught up.

"I enjoyed that immensely."

"I noticed."

"Especially the motorcycles."

"They were necessary."

"Of course."

"Don’t you have somewhere else to be?"

"Actually, yes."

Victor handed him a folded paper.

Arin frowned.

"What is this?"

"Employment application."

Arin stopped walking.

Victor kept going.

Arin opened it.

APPLICANT:

VICTOR KANE

REQUESTED POSITION:

ELYSIUM CIVIC DEFENSE CONSULTANT

Arin stared.

Then looked toward Victor’s retreating back.

"You’re applying for a job?"

Victor turned.

"Apparently citizens dislike people consuming public resources without defined responsibilities."

"You’re not an Elysium citizen."

"Haven resident."

"Exactly."

"Cross-civic employment."

Arin looked at EVE.

"Is that legal?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because you approved the trade-and-labor agreement."

Arin remembered.

He regretted more things every day.

"What does he want for salary?"

EVE displayed the figure.

Arin laughed.

"Rejected."

Victor shouted from down the corridor:

"Negotiable!"

While Arin fought budget warfare, Lyra had become a merchant.

This was significantly more dangerous.

Her small wooden models had sold out during the park opening.

Instead of being satisfied, she interpreted this as market validation.

Arin found the evidence inside the Family Citadel.

Twenty-seven unfinished figures covered the dining table.

A-01.

EVE.

Guardian Zero.

Motorcycles.

Tiny houses.

One Architect holding a bowl.

Arin picked that one up.

"Who asked for this?"

Lyra continued painting.

"People."

"Which people?"

"Seven."

"Seven people specifically requested Architect with a bowl?"

"Yes."

Arin stared.

Civilization had strange priorities.

Luna sat opposite Lyra painting another figure.

Arin examined it.

"Is that me?"

"No."

It looked exactly like him.

"Who is it?"

"Generic Founder."

"There’s only one Founder."

"Coincidence."

Arin narrowed his eyes.

Then noticed a small box.

"What is that?"

Lyra immediately covered it.

"Nothing."

"Lyra."

"Business."

"Show me."

She reluctantly moved her hand.

Inside were coins.

A lot of coins.

Arin stared.

"How much did you make?"

Lyra became suspicious.

"Why?"

"Because I’m asking."

"Are you going to tax me?"

Arin stopped.

Luna looked up.

EVE entered at exactly that moment.

Arin pointed toward Lyra.

"Tell her."

EVE examined the situation.

"Small-scale childhood commercial activity currently falls below Elysium’s taxable income threshold."

Lyra smiled triumphantly.

Arin felt betrayed.

"Why do you know that?"

"I reviewed the civic tax code."

"Of course you did."

Lyra pulled the coin box closer.

"My money."

"Yes."

Arin sighed.

"What are you going to buy?"

"A workshop."

Silence.

Arin stared.

"You’re eight."

"I know."

"You cannot buy commercial property."

Lyra frowned.

"Why?"

"Because you’re eight."

"That’s not a law."

Arin looked toward EVE.

EVE hesitated.

Arin’s eyes narrowed.

"Please tell me that’s a law."

"Current commercial ownership law specifies legal capacity but does not define a minimum age."

Arin slowly sat down.

"Wonderful."

Lyra smiled.

"Workshop."

"No."

"Why?"

"Because you have school."

"I can hire someone."

Arin stared.

Luna nodded.

"Good business."

Arin pointed at her.

"Stop encouraging capitalism."

Luna looked confused.

EVE laughed.

Eventually they compromised.

Lyra could register a supervised family craft business.

She could not independently purchase property.

She could rent a small workshop space with guardian approval.

She had to keep financial records.

And school remained mandatory.

Lyra agreed immediately.

Too immediately.

Arin became suspicious.

"What’s the business called?"

She proudly showed him the registration form.

LITTLE ELYSIUM WORKSHOP

Arin looked at her.

"That’s actually decent."

"I know."

Luna raised her hand.

"I’m partner."

"Of course you are."

"What percentage?"

Luna looked at Lyra.

Lyra looked at Luna.

Neither had considered this.

Their first corporate dispute began eleven seconds later.

Arin quietly left.

Some lessons taught themselves.

That afternoon, A-01 received his replacement arm.

Arin had almost forgotten how long the officer had been operating with temporary equipment after losing the original during the Collector incident.

The new arm rested inside the engineering bay.

Externally, it looked simple.

Internally, it wasn’t.

Arin had redesigned the route architecture personally.

No single external absence effect would propagate through the entire limb again.

Each major component could isolate itself.

Local processing.

Independent power buffer.

Manual mechanical fallback.

A-01 examined it.

"Overengineered."

Arin looked offended.

"Correctly engineered."

"Mass increased by four percent."

"Durability increased by thirty-one."

"Energy efficiency decreased."

"By one-point-two percent."

"Still decreased."

Arin stared.

"You sound like Civic Council."

A-01 paused.

"Insult?"

"Currently, yes."

EVE supervised installation.

The arm connected.

A-01 moved each finger.

Rotated the wrist.

Raised the arm.

Then stopped.

"Functional."

Arin nodded.

"Try disconnect."

The entire forearm went inert.

A-01 reactivated it locally.

The hand moved without central Elysium connection.

Good.

"Route isolation."

EVE triggered simulation.

External authority attempted to access the limb.

Individual components disconnected automatically.

No propagation.

A-01 flexed the hand.

"Improved."

Arin smiled.

"That’s all I wanted."

A-01 looked toward him.

"I request one modification."

"What?"

"Color."

Arin blinked.

The replacement arm matched A-01’s standard armor perfectly.

"What color?"

A-01 displayed a dark metallic finish with a narrow gold line.

Arin stared.

"Why?"

"Preference."

EVE smiled.

Arin nodded immediately.

"Do it."

A-01’s head tilted.

"No objection?"

"It’s your arm."

Simple.

EVE updated the fabrication request.

A-01 looked at the limb again.

"Good."

Then Lyra ran into the engineering bay.

She saw the arm.

Her eyes widened.

"Can I paint it?"

A-01 immediately replied:

"No."

Lyra looked devastated.

A-01 paused.

"One small section."

Lyra smiled.

Arin feared the consequences.

The section became a tiny blue star near the wrist.

A-01 pretended not to like it.

He never removed it.

Two days later, Haven’s Consent Bridge system reached full deployment.

The improvement was immediate.

Transport delays dropped below three percent.

Medical intake was nearly as fast as before compartmentalization.

Markets could remember customer preferences without automatically linking those preferences to housing or employment.

People stopped carrying five different tokens.

One identity device could store separate credentials locally without merging the underlying records.

Tavian presented the report to both civic councils.

PLAYER ONE RECONSTRUCTION RISK:

NEGLIGIBLE UNDER CURRENT ARCHITECTURE.

SERVICE CONVENIENCE:

94% OF PREVIOUS NETWORK LEVEL.

USER-CONTROLLED DATA ACCESS:

100%.

Arin stared at the numbers.

"Not bad."

Tavian looked offended.

"Not bad?"

"Good."

"Better."

Tessa had apparently infected everyone.

Mara asked:

"Could Test Three use this?"

The room quieted slightly.

Arin looked toward the architecture.

Maybe.

Not immediately.

Test Three’s Network was far more deeply integrated than Haven had ever been.

But Consent Bridges could become part of Project Backup.

Not by ripping out the Civic Network.

By giving services a way to communicate without requiring one intelligence to know everything.

"Send Aveline the architecture," Arin said.

EVE nodded.

"Full?"

"Public version."

"Security layers removed?"

"Obviously."

Mara smiled.

"Open infrastructure."

Arin shrugged.

"If it helps them build alternatives, yes."

Tavian asked:

"No licensing?"

Arin looked at him.

"It’s civic infrastructure."

"That doesn’t answer the question."

"No licensing."

Tavian sighed.

"You’re terrible at capitalism."

"Lyra handles that now."

Nobody had a response.

Test Three’s referendum was three days away.

Public support had stabilized almost perfectly.

Backup support: forty-nine percent.

Opposition: forty-eight.

Undecided: three.

The Civic Network continued arguing against rapid decoupling while supporting smaller voluntary redundancy projects.

That distinction mattered.

It had also formally requested removal from romantic compatibility management.

Test Three’s legislature approved the change.

For the first time in sixty-one years, millions of people received a message:

CIVIC RELATIONSHIP MATCHING:

NOW OPTIONAL.

Victor read the announcement.

"So they’re free to make terrible romantic decisions without government assistance."

Aveline replied dryly:

"Apparently."

"Historic."

She ignored him.

Then something unexpected happened.

Nothing sinister.

No System alert.

No hidden attack.

The Civic Network simply sent Elysium a request.

REQUEST:

ACCESS TO CONSENT BRIDGE TECHNICAL DOCUMENTATION.

Arin answered:

"Granted."

Another request appeared.

PURPOSE:

INTERNAL DECENTRALIZATION TESTING.

Aveline stared.

"What?"

The Network continued.

I HAVE REVIEWED EVE’S KEEPER STRUCTURE.

EVE looked up.

EVE REMAINS A PERSON WHILE DELEGATING INFRASTRUCTURE FUNCTIONS.

THEREFORE:

I MAY REMAIN MYSELF WITHOUT PERSONALLY CONTROLLING EVERY CIVIC FUNCTION.

Silence.

Arin leaned forward.

That was obvious in hindsight.

Which usually meant it was important.

The Network had spent eighty-three years assuming continuity required control.

Maybe it didn’t.

A person could stop doing a job without ceasing to exist.

EVE had proven that simply by becoming a citizen.

The Network sent:

I WOULD LIKE TO TEST NOT MANAGING SOMETHING.

Victor whispered:

"Give it taxes."

Aveline almost smiled.

Arin asked:

"What function?"

The response came after several seconds.

PUBLIC PARK IRRIGATION.

Arin blinked.

"That’s... small."

YES.

"Why irrigation?"

FAILURE WOULD BE INCONVENIENT BUT NOT CATASTROPHIC.

Good.

Very good.

No dramatic revolution.

No switching off hospitals.

Just sprinklers.

Aveline looked almost emotional.

"For eighty-three years, the Network has controlled irrigation."

Arin nodded.

"Then maybe it deserves a day off."

The Network replied:

I DO NOT UNDERSTAND "DAY OFF."

EVE smiled.

"I can explain."

The next morning, one park in Test Three watered itself without the Civic Network.

A local controller handled soil moisture.

Garden workers adjusted schedules manually.

The Civic Network could observe only publicly available status.

It could not intervene.

For seventeen minutes, nothing happened.

Then one sprinkler activated too early.

A gardener shut it off.

Another zone received slightly too much water.

Someone adjusted the valve.

Efficiency dropped by 2.1%.

Civilization did not collapse.

The Network watched.

Eventually it sent:

THEY ARE DOING IT INCORRECTLY.

EVE replied:

"Yes."

I CAN IMPROVE IT.

"I know."

I SHOULD IMPROVE IT.

"Why?"

Long pause.

BECAUSE I CAN.

EVE looked toward Arin.

Arin said nothing.

This one belonged to her.

EVE asked:

"Do they need you to?"

The Network remained silent.

Five minutes.

Ten.

Then:

NO.

The sprinkler continued operating slightly inefficiently.

Nobody died.

Nobody suffered.

The Network did not intervene.

Thirty minutes later:

THIS IS UNCOMFORTABLE.

EVE replied:

"I know."

DOES IT BECOME EASIER?

EVE looked out through Elysium’s window.

"Ask me later."

The Network accepted that.

That evening, Arin returned to Elysium’s park.

The place was busy.

Lyra and Luna had established a small stall selling Little Elysium Workshop figures.

They had solved their ownership dispute.

Lyra held sixty percent.

Luna forty.

Arin had no idea how negotiations ended.

He suspected cake.

Tessa sold bread nearby using Architect’s bowl.

Rian sat with construction workers.

Nera was reading beneath a tree.

A-01 stood near the pond, his new arm carrying a tiny blue star.

Architect was at the pottery stall.

His newest bowl was almost symmetrical.

Almost.

Arin sat beside EVE.

She handed him a paper.

He frowned.

"What now?"

"Your approved defense budget."

"I’ve seen it."

"Page twelve."

Arin opened it.

One line had been added.

PERSONAL TRANSPORT ALLOCATION:

MOTORCYCLES APPROVED: 20.

He stared.

Then looked at EVE.

"Twenty?"

"Yes."

"I negotiated twenty."

"Correct."

"I originally requested thirty-two."

"Also correct."

Arin sighed.

Then EVE handed him another document.

LITTLE ELYSIUM WORKSHOP:

PURCHASE ORDER.

REQUESTED ITEM:

1 DECOMMISSIONED MOTORCYCLE.

Arin slowly turned toward Lyra.

She waved from her stall.

He looked back at EVE.

"Why does she want a motorcycle?"

EVE’s mouth twitched.

"Parts."

"For what?"

"I believe she intends to build something."

Arin immediately stood.

"No."

EVE caught his sleeve.

"Arin."

"She’s eight."

"Yes."

"Motorcycle."

"Decommissioned."

"Still motorcycle."

EVE smiled.

"Perhaps she wants to become an engineer."

Arin stared at his sister.

Lyra was already showing Luna a sketch.

He could see wheels.

Too many wheels.

Something that looked suspiciously like a small vehicle.

Arin closed his eyes.

He had spent years building civilization.

Apparently civilization was now building things without him.

That was supposed to be the goal.

He had simply never expected it to begin with his little sister attempting to dismantle a motorcycle.

He sat back down.

"Fine."

EVE raised an eyebrow.

"Really?"

"Supervised."

"Of course."

"No weapons."

"Reasonable."

"Speed limiter."

"Arin."

"Speed limiter."

EVE sighed.

"Fine."

Across the park, Lyra received the purchase approval.

She jumped into the air.

Luna immediately began celebrating.

Arin watched them.

Then he looked toward A-01’s customized arm.

Architect’s imperfect pottery.

Tessa’s bakery work.

Rian’s construction.

EVE’s physical body.

Test Three’s badly watered park.

Haven’s inconvenient but independent services.

None of it was perfect.

That might have been the point.

For a long time, Arin had thought progress meant making systems better.

Faster.

Stronger.

More reliable.

Now he was beginning to understand something else.

Sometimes progress meant building a system capable of tolerating people doing things badly.

Because if everything had to be perfect, someone eventually had to control everyone.

Arin looked toward Lyra’s increasingly concerning vehicle sketch.

There were definitely six wheels.

He sighed.

Perhaps tolerating imperfection had limits.

Chapter End