Chapter 2: The Cleaner
In the bathroom, Yang Bo stared at his reflection in the mirror. According to the original records, he was 182 cm tall, weighed 75 kg, had black hair and black eyes, and a handsome look. The original owner was 19 years old—though here adulthood was reached at 16. The original had strictly followed every recommendation, resulting in a seemingly perfect physique. Yet Yang Bo couldn't shake the feeling that it all felt artificial—as if he were merely inhabiting someone else's body.
"I need to find a job. Please help me narrow down the options," he said after finishing his morning routine.
In this world, even renting an apartment guaranteed a degree of privacy. You didn't need to sort your trash, since you'd pay for waste disposal, and you could ignore those nagging smart-program suggestions—after all, renting was treated just like buying; the interior of your room was considered your personal territory, complete with numerous privileges.
However, since he was living in government housing, privacy was minimal. They justified it with a "protective care" policy—mainly because, in the past, people had died in government apartments and the authorities were criticized for not taking enough responsibility for vulnerable citizens.
"Master, based on your education level, the job available to you is that of a cleaner," the intelligent system announced.
"Furthermore, you are advised to visit the Community Service Center for more detailed information," it continued.
When Yang Bo heard "cleaner," he mused: In this world, the buying and selling—and even the killing—of small animals was strictly regulated. Many of these creatures were implanted with miniature bio-chips. Perhaps working as a cleaner was the best way to verify the so-called "time traveler benefits."
"System Dad?" he half-whispered.
"Boot up?" came no response. After fiddling around for hours that night without receiving any new information, Yang Bo grew a bit frustrated.
The next morning, he had his breakfast—a boxed meal that just needed to be heated in the microwave (all free food was provided in this manner). After dressing, he stepped out; the door automatically opened as he left.
At the elevator, his smart wristwatch directed him to the correct one. The elevator doors were already open and waiting.
Outside, he found wide, immaculate streets. Intelligent cleaning robots were diligently at work, the landscaping was superb, and the pavement was made of stone tiles. People moved at a normal pace—occasionally, someone riding on an anti-gravity skateboard would whiz by amid admiring glances.
The main road was divided into two levels. The first, below 4 meters, was reserved for public transportation—maglev buses and anti-gravity taxis. The second level, between 4 and 8 meters high, was designated for private vehicles, mostly anti-gravity cars. These private cars were autonomous: once the owner set the destination, the vehicle would deliver them anywhere, with temperature, humidity, music, and even the doors automatically managed without a single effort from the passenger.
"Advanced—so damn advanced," Yang Bo muttered while walking, marveling at the array of vehicles. Even the skateboards, though resembling ordinary ones, were equipped with superconductive, anti-gravity systems and featured handrails instead of wheels.
Everyone wearing a wristwatch was a Resident, while those without one were Citizens. This distinction was immediately obvious. A person's citizen rating was linked to the extent their genes had been "activated": Class C allowed one to learn mecha piloting; Class B, air-ground combat; Class A, space battleship piloting; and Class A+ even allowed space carrier piloting. As for the legendary S-class—one person was said to be capable of annihilating an entire fleet.
The Interstellar Federation was divided among three major powers: the Waterblue Empire, the Crimson Federation, and the Aiding Alliance to which Yang Bo now belonged. These three factions were constantly at odds while keeping each other in check. Yang Bo was currently in Waer City on Padostar.
The Waterblue Empire adhered to an imperial system, the Crimson Federation followed a constitutional monarchy, and the Aiding Alliance truly operated as a federal parliamentary system. Technologically, the three were on par—after all, for many years the three had remained enormous entities.
Regarding genetic enhancement, there had once been two schools of thought. One, the "Ancient Martial" approach, focused on unleashing one's innate potential. The other, the "Technological" school, relied on gene serums. Clearly, the gene serum had a huge advantage; in recent years the Ancient Martial approach had almost vanished.
"Wang Technologies has just launched its 14th-generation quantum chip," the system reported, followed by, "Pingan Technologies unveils its 12th-generation individual weapon, 'Rift Cutter.'" Yang Bo glanced up at an advertisement on a blue building.
The weapon, shaped like an 'S', looked as though it were composed of two curved blades fused together, lacking a handle. In its center, a transparent crystal emitted a captivating glow. The entire weapon shone gold as it flashed through the air, leaving behind a streak of golden light.
Yang Bo shook his head as he studied it. This class of weapon required at least a Class C citizen to operate. The crystal at its core was an "energy stone": 500 grams of it was equivalent to over fifty billion units of electrical energy, with higher purity resulting in a far more terrifying energy yield. Ninety percent of the weapon was made from superconductive material, and its interior housed a quantum chip that allowed it to link instantly with the bio-chip implanted in its user. Moreover, it featured an anti-gravity system and an energy mechanism that could vibrate tens of thousands of times per second. Unless facing the energy shield of a warship, virtually any object was as insignificant as air against it.
Bolstered by its communication network, the time it took for the user to, say, eliminate an opponent from one pole of the planet to the other depended on both the weapon's performance and the user's own capabilities.
"This thing is even more powerful than the flying swords in the novels," Yang Bo murmured after viewing the advertisement.
Of course, such weapons had a drawback—the communication link. As a result, most users wouldn't operate them at long distances for fear of interference. Additionally, these weapons were registered across the Federation, and many zones prohibited their entry.
At the Community Service Center, where both robots and human staff provided service (the female staff were exceptionally pretty and courteous, though all responses were rather formulaic), Yang Bo inquired about employment. Given his educational background and résumé, the only position available was that of a cleaner—the lowest tier job, incapable of operating advanced machinery.
The cleaner training was held right at the Community Center. The training for a low-level cleaner was very straightforward: how to protect oneself, which protective gear to wear in various environments, which types of cleaning agents to use on different materials, and how to conduct personal service while respecting individual privacy—no unauthorized photos or theft allowed. The training lasted twelve hours. Each session had just one participant, though there were several instructors, and the twelve-hour period was all that was required.
Even the food at the training center was noticeably better—clearly freshly prepared rather than churned out on an assembly line.
By the next morning, Yang Bo's face was calm on the outside, though his inner irritation was simmering. His smart wristwatch was more nagging than his own mother. While he could easily disregard his mother's advice, the wristwatch's recommendations—if ignored—would result in mandatory psychological treatment. Yang Bo suspected it might even send him to something akin to a mental hospital.
Surprisingly, after the afternoon assessment, he was offered a job. A middle-aged, portly man with silver-white hair, dark eyes, wearing a blue plaid shirt, jeans, and sneakers—looking to be in his thirties with thinning hair and a down-to-earth appearance—approached him.
"Mr. Yang Bo, would you be willing to join our Anzhi Clean Services?" the man inquired. In this era, few people were actively looking for work, and his company needed manual laborers—specifically Residents.
"Mr. Liu, I'd be happy to," Yang Bo replied. He noted there was a probation period of three days, and the contract had been signed at the Community Center.
"Excellent, Mr. Yang Bo! Let me treat you to dinner while I explain our company's operations. Our compensation is very generous," Mr. Liu said warmly.
(End of Chapter)