ＳＩＮＧＵＬＡＲＩＴＹ ２１０１: Ⱥ NɆØ-ĦᵾNŦɆɌ ȻĦɌØNƗȻŁɆ

Chapter 5: The Informant

As the hands of my watch inch towards 8pm, a dense fog begins to drape over the city, a welcome respite from the relentless rain. The rising ocean waters have transformed California into a mirror image of Washington state weather wise, a change that has been decades in the making. The beaches have receded, but not to the dystopian extent depicted in post-apocalyptic films. I stow away the encoder tool in the trunk before sliding into the cockpit of my glider. A call buzzes in my earpiece. "Call from Monica". I rest my hands on the cool roof of my glider before accepting the call. "It's Monica, Whyet," her voice softer than usual. "I had to ensure I was calling from a secure line. I wouldn't dream of discussing this over my work phone. To answer your question, yes, we do have contracts in various military sectors. What do you need to know?" I draw a deep breath before posing my first question. "How much do you know about these contracts?" I ask, "I'm aware of a few projects and sister companies under our umbrella. As for their exact roles or contributions to our military, I can't say."

"Could you provide the names of those companies? I'll conduct my own research. I don't want you to jeopardize your position or risk your safety." "Don't fret about me, Whyet. I want to assist you. Our largest sister company is Typhon, headquartered here in California. Then there's Eriksson Inc., formerly owned by Alexander Eriksson, but we acquired it several years ago. It was based in Sweden, and an American division is in the pipeline. They were developing some sort of stealth technology for ground and aerial units, very hush-hush. We also have a stake in an African company, Rogue Games, which designs VR simulations for military exercises. They're based in Ghana and train our military NeoGens there. They also have several international locations. Beyond that, everything else is classified, and I'm not even sure of all the corporations we influence. I wish I could provide more, Whyet, but I hope what I've given you proves useful." "It'll do for now, Monica. By the way, I managed to get a copy of Memoirs of a Neo-Hunter." I inform her. "That's fantastic, Whyet. I hope you find it as captivating as I did."

"We'll see. I've never been much of a reader. But I'll delve into the book when I get a chance. I'll see you in the morning, Monica. I'm off for a drink before heading home." I was currently in the Fullerton area, one of LA's more upscale neighborhoods, Mindy owned her condo here for the past year. I actually helped her move. I recall a ramen place Mindy and I used to frequent for quiet chats, meals, and drinks. Perhaps it's time for a break from the whiskey. A warm sake doesn't sound too bad. I switch the glider to manual mode and take the wheel, unwilling to deal with the vehicle's safety precautions at this moment. After a brisk 10-minute drive, I arrive at the Noodle Hut in Orange County. This part of town, surprisingly, lacks the towering building sectors and megastructures. It's one of the pricier areas, but the grounded feeling it offers is refreshing. Nestled in the heart of Orange County, down a narrow alley, lies the small ramen bar. As I push open the creaky wooden door, a gust of warm, steamy air greets me, carrying the rich, savory aroma of simmering broth and fresh noodles. The soft, ambient glow of neon lights bathes the interior, casting shadows on the polished wooden counter.

To my left, a row of stools lines the counter, each one occupied by patrons hunched over large bowls of ramen, their faces softly illuminated by the war glow from the old school 40 watt bulbs. Behind the counter, the chef moves with rhythmic precision, his actions a dance of culinary artistry. He ladles steaming broth into bowls, tops them with springy noodles, and adds a medley of toppings: slices of tender chashu pork, a soft-boiled egg with a warm yolk, bright green onions, and a sheet of nori that gently waves with the rising steam.

To my right, a panorama of the cityscape unfolds, the neon lights of the city casting vibrant reflections on the rain-slicked streets. The sound of the city - the hum of engines, the murmur of conversations, the occasional clink of chopsticks against ceramic bowls - creates a soothing backdrop.