Chapter 19 -- Quota


Chapter 19

Quota

After the simulation, the team had gotten into their vehicles to go to the bar for their usual post-operation drinks.

Normally, after such a victory, the atmosphere would be quite cheerful.

But this time, it wasn’t.

Salih, sitting in the back seat, was lost in deep thought, his gaze fixed on the window.

Even though the team had won, the expression on his face affected everyone; there was no sense of celebration.

Nathan couldn’t handle the silence any longer.

He reached out and lightly touched Salih’s knee.

“Hey, man, what’s wrong?” he asked.

“You don’t seem to be feeling too good today.”

Salih suddenly turned to him, the anger in his eyes unmistakable.

“Why are we even here?” he snapped.

“Why are we playing this game?

What’s the point?!”

Nathan hadn’t expected such a sharp reaction.

For a moment, he didn’t know what to say; his mouth opened, but no words came out.

Gideon, sitting up front as always, remained cold and composed.

In the passenger seat, his eyes never leaving the road, he spoke.

There was no emotional fluctuation in his voice:

“Perhaps…” he said calmly,

“you are here to understand just how valuable the life you have really is.”

A brief silence filled the vehicle.

But Gideon continued:

“The suits you wear… perhaps they should be distributed to everyone.

If one person feels pain, and others do too, maybe you’d all give up the desire to kill each other.”

Gideon’s words hung in the air.

They weren’t something with a ready answer, nor were they easily dismissed.

The five-person team’s vehicle pulled up among other military vehicles lined up in front of the bar.

This place was where simulations and faction groups met—a space for post-combat relaxation and socializing.

It was quite crowded; inside, loud conversations, laughter, and war stories mixed together.

The team got out of the vehicle and made their way through the crowd to an empty table.

As soon as they sat down, one of the bar’s servers approached with a notepad ready.

“What can I get you?” the server asked.

No one at the table spoke immediately; the weight of the simulation still hung over them.

Nathan ordered a frothy German beer.

For Gideon and Arch, it was the standard drink injection pistol.

Salih ordered whiskey, and Neil requested a strawberry-flavored nutrient drink.

Neil was a different version of a robot with taste receptors.

The server noted their orders and then looked directly at Neil.

“Sorry, friend,” he said.

“Robots with taste receptors can only receive sweet nutrients once per week.

Your quota for this month is already used up. I can serve you the standard nutrient instead.”

The words immediately cast a cold atmosphere over the table.

Salih frowned and turned to the server.

“What do you mean by that?” he asked, his voice sharp with anger.

The server, clearly uncomfortable as a human employee, still had to explain.

“I’m sorry,” he said, taking a slight step back.

“They are regulated. Each has a quota.

We have to follow the quotas to serve their orders.”

This answer completely infuriated Salih, who already had a lot of stress built up from the simulation.

He suddenly stood up.

His eyes were burning with anger.

“What do you mean by that?” he shouted.

“I want my friend to get whatever he wants immediately!”

He leaned toward the table, raising his voice even more.

“If necessary, charge it to my account!”

With this outburst, the murmur inside the bar abruptly stopped.

The crowd turned to look at Salih.

A sudden silence fell over the room.


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