Less Than Human (34 page)

A door hinge squeaked. Bare feet slapped on floor. A voice said softly, “Aunt Eleanor?”

Mari’s voice. She must be at the Tanakas. God, she might have embarrassed herself in front of them. Why didn’t Masao stop
her?

But why was Mari here anyway? Mari had gone away to stay somewhere in Osaka while she was at university …

The whole situation opened like a trapdoor in her memory. She plunged into it, no handholds.

“Oh, shit.” Her voice sounded thick and croaky. What had Akita done to her, and where was she now?

She opened her eyes but they were swollen and gummy. Everything blurred.

“Here.” Mari put a hot towel in her hand.

Eleanor wiped her face. Her left hand felt as though she was wearing a glove. It was bandaged but didn’t hurt. The medical
patches on her inner arm were probably painkillers. She flexed her left fingers clumsily, and streaks of pain ran across her
shoulder and neck.

Mari folded her right hand around a cool glass, and Eleanor gulped the water, splashing some down her neck in her haste.

“Aunt Eleanor, what are you doing here?”

She drew breath sharply and focused on Mari. It gave her a fright; Mari’s head was bald again. She looked like a young monk.
A worried young monk.

Her own head felt cold… her fingers touched smooth skin, the long scar of her old injury, a bump on the back where Taka pushed
her and, where the headache was centered, the rounded biometal of an implant like Mari’s. It had taken a long time to grow
her hair to cover that scar … What the hell did Akita think he was doing? How dare he do these things without her knowledge
or consent? She pushed herself to a sitting position, using her right elbow. The pain in her neck and shoulder was worse sitting
up, but she didn’t feel as queasy.

“Where are we?”

Mari took the glass. “We’re in the second meditation room at the retreat. They haven’t told us where that is.”

Eleanor was sitting on one of six tatami mats laid in a rectangle on a concrete floor, Mari crouched beside her. One strong
lightbulb hung from a cord in the center of the ceiling. A sheet lay crumpled beside her. She was wearing the same clothes
as Mari—a short-sleeved kimono-style shirt and simple pants, both in rough white cotton.

“What time is it?”

“Just before early prayer. That’s about five in the morning.” Mari’s voice was low and urgent. “Aunt Eleanor, what’s going
on? Taka said they brought you in the back of a van.”

Van … the word illuminated a series of images in Eleanor’s memory. Bright lights alternating with heavy blackness, a stuffy
enclosed space. More lights, someone in a green coat, an IV line dangling. Akita must have put her in a van at …

Zecom. She knew she’d forgotten something.

“Mari, Aki … Adam was planning to do something bad at the Zecom Betta. Did they go through with it?”

The girl shook her head. “I don’t know. We’re not supposed to watch outside news. I was told to go and see if the new Angel
was awake and, if so, to bring her to see Adam-sama. Then when I get in here, the new Angel is you!”

Eleanor pressed her eyes, trying to push away the headache that kept getting in the way of thought. Did Akita really still
think she had decided to join him? If so, he was completely deluded.

“I haven’t joined the group. They kidnapped me. But Adam thinks I’ve joined.” Oh-oh, she thought suddenly. Can I trust this
girl? She’s been with these people for months now.

Mari rocked back on her heels, appalled. “They wouldn’t do that! It must be an honest mistake.”

“Mari-chan, they did this to me”—she thrust her bandaged hand in Mari’s face—“without m … my permission.”

Mari’s mouth set in a stubborn line that reminded Eleanor of Yoshiko. “I still think it’s a mistake. Just tell Adam-sama.
Or Gagiel-sama might be better,” she added doubtfully. “They always tell us we’re free to leave if we want to.”

“But nobody goes, right?”

Mari’s mouth set again but she didn’t answer. “You’re wrong about them.”

Eleanor crawled stiffly to the edge of the mats. “Okay, I might be wrong. But if you’re right, they won’t mind you showing
me the way out.”

“But I’m supposed to take you to Adam-sama,” Mari protested. “I’ll get in trouble if I don’t. And the guards won’t let you
out without permission, anyway.”

“That doesn’t sound like you’re free to go,” Eleanor said nastily.

“We’re free to get permission to go.” The concern in Mari’s eyes was replaced by defiance. “Come on, then.”

Cold from the concrete floor numbed Eleanor’s bare feet, which helped her ignore the other aches. Mari led the way down a
corridor, lit at intervals with the same naked bulbs as the room. On the left they passed a door labeled
MEDITATION ROOM ONE
and another labeled
NOVICE TRAINING
, both written in ornate roman letters. The next door said Amenities in plain Japanese script and under it a handwritten scrawl,
“no meditation!” All these doors were on the left. The right wall of the corridor was made up of uneven wooden panels. Some
of them had warped to show a dirt wall beneath. Nothing looked like a door to the outside world. The end of the corridor behind
them was flat concrete.

They turned a corner to the left. At about twelve paces, there was a gap in the concrete wall on their left, in which Eleanor
glimpsed stairs inside a narrow alcove leading upward into darkness.

“It’s locked,” said Mari. “None of us have the key.”

Something whirred down the corridor toward them that seemed as out of place as she felt—a helpbot. It was older than the Betta
models, a Yamazaki 1200 by the looks of it. A rectangular box on wheels with a round half sphere on top, its arms folded close
to its sides instead of retracting like the newer models.

It wasn’t working properly. One of the arms trailed disconsolately on the floor, and it moved in a wavy zigzag, bumping off
the walls.

“What’s that doing here?” Eleanor fought an urge to grab the robot and adjust its navigation controls.

Mari glanced at it, uninterested. “They use those in training. The novices do, I mean. Here we are.”

They stopped at the first door on the left past the alcove. The right-hand wall was the same old panels. The door’s label
said
VESTIBULE, LEVEL THREE ADEPTS AND ABOVE
ONLY. A different sign had been painted over underneath it. Eleanor could just make out the characters for machine.

“Wait,” she said. “Mari-chan, did you tell them I’m related to you?”

“How could I? I only just found out you’re here.”

“It might be a good idea if you don’t tell anyone yet.” She thought Akita quite capable of using Mari as leverage for whatever
he wanted. What the hell
did
he want with her?

Mari knocked three times on the door and pushed it open. “You go in,” she whispered. “I’m not allowed.”

Eleanor took one last look at the robot, a connection with normality. It was now turning in uneven circles.

Inside the room, the first thing she noticed was the red carpet. It ran in a meter-wide swath between boxes and shapes covered
with sheets, up three steps, and finished at the foot of a high-backed chair set on a dais. Akita sat in the chair, and behind
him computer hardware occupied the whole of the back wall of the room. He wore a gold satin robe gathered in so many ornate
folds that he looked like a gilt waterfall. In spite of the chair, he did not dominate the room—the screens and consoles did
that.

She caught a glimpse of angled steel and wide bases under the sheets at the side of the room. Heavy machinery. This could
be a factory storeroom.

Another man stood behind Akita with his back to her. She thought she recognized the dark undershirt and broad shoulders of
Fujinaka, from the Zecom Betta. He wore loose trousers in silver satin.

“Lilith-san, you are awake!” Akita clapped his hands together once. “I have been waiting to show you your future.”

She stepped along the red carpet, annoyed that there was no room to avoid it. At least it wasn’t as cold as the concrete.
“Akita, what do you think you’re doing?”

He leaned forward as she approached, his eyes too bright. “You must call me Adam here,” he said in a mock-whisper. “Just as
we will call you Lilith.”

“Lilith?” she said, momentarily distracted.

“Adam’s first wife. The one who lent her soul to the Evas.”

It took a moment for her to realize the last reference was to a manga. Bible, manga, sutras, they were all religious texts
to the Angels.

“Call me whatever you like. But I’m not staying. I wish to leave. Now.”

Fujinaka turned around and watched her with his narrow, measuring eyes.

Akita’s mouth dropped open in shock. “But you haven’t entered the Macrocosm yet. You said you wanted to see it.”

“I said I wanted to see your new interface. I didn’t say I wanted to be doped, abducted, and m … mutilated!”

He frowned, puzzled at her anger, then his face slackened again. “Now, now Lilith. I admit we were a little rushed in your
case. But you are important to us.”

Eleanor controlled her breathing with an effort. “Why did you do this to me?”

“You wanted it,” he said, puzzled. “I wanted it. I have always admired your talents. You have the knack of linking theoretical
problems with the practical. I think you will be a great asset to our movement. My other disciples do not have the knowledge
or experience to manipulate the Macrocosm successfully.”

“I didn’t want this,” she protested, but halfheartedly. He wasn’t going to listen, whatever she said.

“Together we can restore order to the Microcosm. Create a new reality.” He was almost pleading with her. “In the times that
are past, Buddha and Christ taught that suffering is the lot of all living things. And what is the root of suffering?”

He waited for her to answer. Fujinaka kept his eye on her as he coiled a long lead.

“Desire?” she ventured.

Akita nodded slowly. “That is what they taught, because these teachers of the past did not have my power to ascend into the
Macrocosm. They were chained to their mortal bodies, but I am not. Of course,” he said smugly, “when the body is vanquished,
desire evaporates like dew in the sun’s rays. Your niece is learning this. You can, too.”

He must have known all along about Mari.

“Akita … Adam. Thank you for your invitation, but I don’t want to get involved.” She turned on her heel and walked back down
the carpet. It was only ten strides to the door, but it felt like fifty.

Akita said nothing. Fujinaka muttered something inaudible. She opened the door, her back feeling uncomfortably vulnerable,
then she was in the corridor again. Her heartbeat thudded in her ears. Could it be this easy? Where to go? There must be an
exit.

She turned left, the other way from her route with Mari. The corridor continued past two more doors, voices murmuring within.
The helpbot had gone.

As she reached the corner, a man in a silver robe turned into her path. Slim build, expressive eyes, hollow cheeks. Samael.
The man who drugged her in the Betta.

She jumped back, and he laughed.

“Going somewhere, Lilith-sama?” He made the honorific sound like an insult.

“Upstairs.” She didn’t attempt to get past him. His arms were half-raised, the fingers flexing as if he could feel her already.
No biometal on those hands.

“You don’t want to do that,” he said firmly. “Adam-sama is looking forward to you joining him in the Macrocosm. Let’s not
spoil that for him.”

He grabbed her left arm above the elbow and pain shot through her neck and shoulder. “I haven’t got time to keep an eye on
you. In case you have any funny ideas about escaping, remember your niece. You do care for her, don’t you?”

He thrust his face into hers, and she pulled back as far as his grip on her arm would allow. “Good,” he said. “Back you go,
then. The Macrocosm awaits.”

He shepherded her up the corridor to the vestibule. Eleanor’s neck ached and she felt nauseous. Of course it wouldn’t be that
easy.

“Can I use the toilet?” she said.

Samael sighed. “Be quick.”

The toilet offered no escape. The fan was linked to the light switch. If she had tools and a torch, she might disconnect them
and then see where the fan duct led, if she could climb up there. The wiring was pinned around the top of the door and out
a badly replastered hole in the concrete. She might have a chance of shorting the lights, but it wasn’t much good if she didn’t
know where to go in the darkness.

Back inside the vestibule room, Akita was now seated facing the consoles. Fujinaka strapped him in at the chest, legs, and
onto a padded headrest.

“Gagiel-sama,” said Samael. “Here’s your missing customer.” He pushed Eleanor in the small of the back so that she stumbled
forward, catching her toe on the carpet.

Fujinaka/Gagiel narrowed his eyes further. “About time. We want to make sure this is going to work, you know.”

“Adam-sama says it will,” said Samael, and he seemed to mean it. Perhaps he actually believed all this rubbish.

“Lilith-san, we begin.” Akita’s head was held motionless by a padded strap, but he smiled sideways at her. “We enter the realm
outside and encompassing other realms, which previously only the Buddhas and Devas knew.” He raised his free hand, the artificial
one. “Are you ready?”

“I could do with a drink of water,” said Eleanor.

“Stop stalling.” Samael prodded her in the shoulder, and she stepped up onto the dais.

Akita closed his eyes. “You must hold a memory as you enter. Anything, but it must be clear.”

“Why?”

Akita mumbled, but she couldn’t distinguish words.

Fujinaka clipped another chair to the console, beside Akita. There were no long gloves as she’d seen Fujinaka use in the Zecom
Betta, only an aperture covered with a soft material that yielded when she poked it gingerly. Several screens were attached
to the top of the console.

She wavered. “How many of these consoles have you built?”

“Three completed so far,” said Akita, without opening his eyes. “Two are here. One has been sent to believers in a distant
land.”