Superhumans may sound grandiose, but in reality, the things they could do aren’t very interesting.
They bent spoons—just like those frauds on TV long ago did, calling it telekinesis—they guessed numbers on the backs of cards—calling it clairvoyance—and after great effort and a long interval of time, they could move their body about one step—they called it teleportation, though it never happened instantaneously.
Humanity, suspicious that these superhumans might be frauds, tested them with hundreds of tests. I wasn’t sure why they conducted pancreatic inflammation tests on someone with teleportation abilities, but anyway, the superhumans passed numerous examinations, and the world, realizing their abilities were real, became excited and called them the new human race.
The New Humans. Neo Homo Novus with new abilities in their grasp.
These were people who could pass through closed doors, read text behind their backs, and move objects with just a glance.
When these powered individuals first appeared, Disney’s stock price reportedly skyrocketed for a while. Superpowers=Superheroes=Disney. People’s thought circuits were actually that simple.
The world called these people the new human race, but they were actually quite useless.
They really could bend spoons with just a glance, but the problem was that it took at least two hours per spoon. Teleportation took half a day. Half a day to move forward just one step.
Furthermore, the powered individuals had an even bigger problem…
“Why didn’t you register with the National Assistant System, Mr. Park Hae-jun?”
A cold-looking man with glasses asked, putting down the resume.
“Why didn’t you register? You could have lived more comfortably than now if you had registered there.”
“Because I want to write movie scripts.”
At Park Hae-jun’s answer, the man made a face as if to say, “What did that have to do with anything?”
“As you know, once you register with the National Assistant System, you automatically become affiliated with the Capital Defense Command.”
The man still wore an expression that suggested he didn’t see what the problem was. Park Hae-jun let out a sigh.
“Have you been in the military? I haven’t gone yet, and I’d like to never go, ever.”
The moment assistants register with the national system, they automatically become part of the military. And not just any military, but one where discharge was impossible once you’d registered.
The Capital Defense Command’s motto is “Shield While Alive, Loyalty in Death.” What exactly were people who could bend one spoon every two hours supposed to protect? The cutlery drawer?
“From the moment I register myself in the national system, the only topics I can write about are patriotism and anti-communism, and even those must pass military internal review, and all rights to copy, display, distribute, and circulate those writings must be transferred to the state. I don’t want that. What artist would want that? Besides.”
Park Hae-jun tapped his head for emphasis.
“I still haven’t decided which among America, Japan, North Korea, and China is our country’s main enemy. What do you think, Secretary? Who do you think is our country’s main enemy?”
“You’re an interesting person.”
The man who had introduced himself as Secretary Yang replied with an expression that didn’t look amused at all. Park Hae-jun smiled faintly and wiped the sweat in his hand by rubbing it on his pants. He seemed nervous. He was starting to prolong his nonsense.
Though he was smiling, Park Hae-jun was currently backed into a corner. His career was crumbling, and everyone was cursing at him. Nobody believed him.
At that time, the only person who took his side was Senior Yang, with whom he had formed a connection during high school.
Senior Yang handed him a business card, saying to contact him if he really wanted to fight, and that business card belonged to this very man before him, Secretary Yang.
Cornered, Park Hae-jun called Secretary Yang, grasping at straws. When he conveyed that he had received the card from Senior Yang and could do whatever was asked of him, Secretary Yang asked, “Can you really do anything, no matter how unreasonable?
“Do you know what kind of work I’m going to assign?”
Park Hae-jun answered the first question by saying he would do anything as long as it wasn’t illegal, and after hesitating a bit on the second question, he said yes.
“I sincerely hope Mr. Park Hae-jun’s abilities are sufficient.”
Secretary Yang immediately set up an interview appointment. It was for half a day later. The speed of progression was so fast it was to the point of bewildering.
Honestly, from the moment Senior Yang gave him the business card, Park Hae-jun had guessed what he would have to do. It was a matter of assistance.
Superhumans. The Homo Novus of the new era. The cutlery drawer protectors called the new human race had a fatal weakness…the stronger their ability, the more errors developed in their minds.
No, “errors” wasn’t the right word. To be precise, they suffered from mental afflictions in exchange for gaining supernatural abilities. It had nothing to do with whether they used their abilities or not. Just having the ability gradually damaged their brains.
They heard voices, saw visions, and fell into hallucinations. Not only that, they also suffered from various paranoia, anxiety disorders, obsessions, and neurasthenia.
In other words, they went crazy.
Eventually, after a powered individual suffering from delusions that the government was trying to kill him broke into the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff’s room and tried to bend the chairman’s neck like a spoon before being caught, did the military realize the seriousness of this problem.
Fortunately, the powered individual’s ability was minimal, so the chairman’s cervical vertebrae were safe—there’s even a rumor that his turtle neck was actually corrected—but there was no guarantee that bigger problems wouldn’t arise in the future.
The government pondered over the awakened new human race. Their mental illnesses couldn’t be controlled with medication. No alternative therapy worked. The afflictions of the powered individuals only deepened.
Fortunately, superheroes always had sidekicks.
Sidekicks. Just as Sherlock Holmes had Watson and Batman had Robin, the Neo Homo Novus had assistants that made the heroes shine even more. Next to the spoon-bending man was the fork-bending man.
Park Hae-jun couldn’t bend forks, but he could calm down powered individuals suffering from mental illness while trying to bend spoons. Park Hae-jun just had that ability. He knew how to do such things without learning from anyone else.
The state called such people assistants. Originally they were called guides, but as part of the movement to use Korean terms, they became “assistants.” Other titles included helpers, navigators, and aides, but none of them were appealing. Why should I assist and help other people?
Anyway, only Senior Yang knew that Park Hae-jun was an assistant. No one else knew. Even Park Hae-jun’s parents were kept in the dark in regard to this matter.