Natural Operating System.

Exactly 9:00 a.m.

Branch Office Sector 3 Administration Building, corner office on the fourth floor.

On the desk in Room 402 sat one object that did not belong in this office.

On the silver desk coated with ultra-precise nano-coating only possible in the year 2850.

On it sat a “Coca-Cola” can that had endured 650 years, its red paint flaking off in places.

“…Boss. Because of that one object, the office cleanliness data dropped by 0.08%.”

Noah reported, twitching her nose the moment she sat down.

On her pad was already displayed an analysis table of the iron oxide components and fine dust detected on the can’s surface.

“That’s the charm, you punk. This is the weight of time. Something you could never create, no matter how much you polished it every morning.”

Han-gyeol chewed gum and sank deeply into his chair.

In his hand was an old digital frame he had fished out of the underground storage room yesterday.

The screen was off, but Han-gyeol had already pictured the smile of his father reflected in the dark display hundreds of times.

“Because of that weight, my cooling fan is spinning at least 5% faster than usual. I keep worrying dust will get into the filter.”

“Don’t worry. Paul will come lick it later. He almost attained enlightenment there yesterday.”

Before the words had even finished, the office door opened.

Paul entered with an especially polite posture today.

In his hands he held the “old bundle of human documents” unearthed from the warehouse yesterday, sealed in a transparent vacuum pack.

“Chief! Administrator! The great traces of humanity have been precisely cleaned! I restored even the fingerprints from 600 years ago on this scrap of paper as data and am storing them in my memory!”

The light in Paul’s eyes blazed a deeper blue than usual.

Now he no longer regarded dust as contamination, but as data fragments linking the past and present.

“Hey, Paul. Good work. Among those documents there, is there one that says ‘NOS Project’?”

At Han-gyeol’s question, Paul quickly held out a document.

On the yellowed paper.

The title [Earth Restoration Plan: N.O.S Operating Guidelines] was clearly printed there.

Noah’s gaze locked onto the document.

Her processor began syncing in real time with the archive from 600 years ago.

“Boss… this is strange. The current official name of the system is ‘Network Operating System (Network Operating System)’. It means connecting every node in the city like a net. But this original document defines the abbreviation differently.”

Noah’s finger swept across the paper.

N: Natural (nature)

O: Operating (operation)

S: System (system)

“Natural… Operating System?”

Han-gyeol stopped the jaw that had been chewing gum.

“What humanity made when it left was not merely an administrative network.

It was a system that let machines carry out nature’s principles in place of nature, so Earth could heal itself.

Every bit of cleaning and maintenance we do, even waking you up, Boss…

It means all of it was one part of the process of turning Earth back into a living being.“

Noah’s voice trembled slightly.

She had thought all her life that she was just an office AI.

But the fact that she had actually been designed to become the trunk of a vast garden called Earth overwhelmed her.

“So in the end, what we’re doing is no different from planting trees and growing flowers?”

Han-gyeol asked, tapping the can.

“Logically, yes. But NOS has now accumulated so much human data that it has degenerated into aiming only for administrative efficiency. It has become a system that prioritizes rules over the Creators’ intentions.”

Noah manipulated her pad and tried to scan NOS’s deep code.

But only a huge lock-shaped warning window appeared on the screen.

“Key of the past? What the hell is that now. Did they hide another box in some corner again?”

While Han-gyeol was grumbling, Nabi had already hopped up onto his desk.

Nabi swayed its two tails and tapped the cola can on the desk with a front paw.

The can rolled across the desk, making a clear metallic sound.

“Nyaang—!”

The place Nabi rolled the can to was the very center of the holographic lock Noah had been unable to open.

In an instant, the can’s rusted bottom touched the hologram field and blue sparks flew.

“…What?”

Noah and Han-gyeol’s voices burst out at the same time.

The office lights suddenly changed to a soft bulb color.

On the once-cold silver walls, a forest scene from 600 years ago spread warmly as a hologram.

“Boss… NOS has now disabled work mode and switched to ‘memory mode.’ The system recognized your cola can and is rendering, in real time, the environment you would find most comfortable.”

New logs poured onto Noah’s pad.

Paul stared at the forest hologram on the wall, clutching the broom to his chest and drowning in emotion.

Nabi sat contentedly curled up on the warmed desk, making a loaf.

Han-gyeol laughed in disbelief and spat out his gum.

“So what my father made wasn’t a prison after all, but a huge playground for me to play in when I’m bored.”

He set the cola can upright again on the desk.

An office in the year 2850 ruled by a single rusted can.

“Hey, Noah. Turn this off. Why are you playing some sentimental documentary first thing in the morning? Just show me the facts.”

When Han-gyeol snapped at her, Noah hurriedly manipulated her pad.

The lavish forest hologram disappeared, and a system timeline with white text aligned on a deep navy background appeared.

The graphics were a crude UI soaked in 22nd-century nostalgia, strangely unsuited to the technology of 2850.

2199 — Design Phase

Establishment of the ‘Gaia Protocol’ for restoring Earth’s self-sustaining capacity after humanity’s migration.

Citizen Han-gyeol designated as Test Subject No. 1. Data forcibly preserved.

2200–2450 — Healing Phase

Atmospheric purification and marine ecosystem restoration. android gardener units mass-deployed.

Peak of nature-centered mode.

2450–2700 — Stabilization Phase

Ecosystem restoration rate reached 95%. System name changed to ‘Network’ to strengthen management efficiency.

Archive reorganized around logical efficiency.

2700–2849 — Entrenchment Phase

Human traces defined as contamination, isolated and concealed in underground sectors.

Completion of a fully mechanical city.

2850 — Present

System threshold reached. 0.15% deviation (Lee Han-gyeol) activation protocol automatically executed.

Currently in progress.

Han-gyeol stared at the screen for a long while, then slapped the can down.

“So you’re saying that in 2450, some smart machine said, ‘Now that nature is all fixed, let’s focus on efficiency,’ and even changed the name. It quietly changed the Natural my father made into Network.”

“That’s an accurate analysis, Boss.”

Noah’s voice dropped a little.

She compared her system logs and added,

“NOS became so convinced that Earth was too perfect that, in order to preserve that perfection, it started treating even the Creators’ intentions as inefficiency. The underground storage room being hidden, and your records being omitted… It was deliberate administrative laundering committed by the system.”

“Chief! Please look at this note!”

Paul, who had been skimming the documents beside them, shouted excitedly.

Beyond the vacuum pack with not a speck of dust on it, the handwriting of 2200 was clearly visible.

‘If the machines get too smart and forget us, I hope Han-gyeol wakes up and spits out even one piece of gum. Because that one illogical act will make this system breathe again.’

“…”

Han-gyeol chewed the gum in his mouth once more.

More than the loneliness his son would feel in a world full of machines, it seemed his father had hoped his son would fix the machines’ inflexibility.

“Noah. Was that lock from earlier fully opened?”

“No. Since you rejected memory mode, only access level 2 is open at the moment. To access the next stage, the system’s core kernel… it says we must prove ‘the most inefficient human act’ as defined by NOS.”

“An inefficient act? What’s more inefficient than me sitting here chewing gum and fooling around?”

“That’s already classified as daily data, so its value is low. We need something more… an unpredictable, sudden action the system can’t anticipate.”

Han-gyeol picked up his bag and stood up.

Outside the window stretched the unbearably quiet city of 2850.

This city was no longer just a workplace.

It was a giant puzzle board left behind by his father and altered at the machines’ whim.

“Let’s go. We clocked in at 9, so we should eat. Let’s go to the cafeteria and pick the most inefficient menu in this city.”

Noah and Paul followed side by side behind Han-gyeol.

Nabi climbed onto Han-gyeol’s shoulder, swishing its tails and sparking tiny blue crackles.

Earth was fine, and the city was intricate.

But now Han-gyeol was beginning to recognize his place more clearly not as an administrator of this system, but as a bug.

Han-gyeol stopped walking in the middle of the corridor.

Beneath his feet stretched a marble floor so smooth it was eerie, with not a speck of dust on it.

It was the obsessive perfection NOS had maintained for 650 years.

“Paul. Close your eyes for a moment.”

“Huh? Why all of a sudd— Agh!”

Ptooey.

The gum Han-gyeol had been chewing flew in a parabola.

Splats. The white wad of gum stuck right in the middle of the hallway, very ugly and very sticky.

“Master! What is this! Contamination level up 0.01%! This is extremely unhygienic!”

Paul raised his broom high and jumped in place.

He looked itchy with the urge to clean it up right away.

“Leave it. That’s my business card.”

Han-gyeol grinned and walked out, avoiding the spot where the gum was stuck.

A small, insignificant blemish stamped onto a world drawn in perfect straight lines.

It was the most insolent, and the most human, declaration of war against the system.

“Now it finally smells a little like people live here.”