Read United States of Japan Online
Authors: Peter Tieryas
United States of Japan (6 page)
Akiko put her hand on his arm. “This is not the time to be modest, captain. I’ve heard of your reputation at breaking encryption codes. Besides seducing women, it’s the only thing you’re good at.”
“That reputation is completely unearned. I get rejected all the time.” He took out his portical and a wire, since Claire’s portical had no EKS connection. He linked them directly.
“You should be careful,” Akiko said. “We’ve already lost a dozen port–”
“In,” Ben said.
“What do you mean, in?”
“I mean the encryption is cracked,” Ben said. “At least the first layer. The second layer is going to be tricky. There are algorithms here that alter their variables with every attempt. Unless you know the base equation, it’ll short circuit both our porticals.”
“How soon?”
“I have thirty seconds before our porticals need replacing.”
Ben jumped through the numbers, pressing keys on his portical screen, alternating equations and variables. His own portical allowed him to input guesses while bypassing the normal security protocols, which in turn meant he could make false attempts without triggering the failsafe guards. The math involved was just like a secret that needed interpreting; hints and signs of demureness, or audacity, knowing when to step back, when to be bold. The sortie involved the right combination of words; a mix of humor, brash stupidity, and affection. Ben coaxed the commands, gently warbling unspoken cues. The cryptography responded like bittings on pins and wafers, a sheer line of desire unlocked through probes, piercing here, pressing there, ululations of longing, rotating into place, a misplaced symmetry of lust.
“Second layer broken. Let’s see if there’s a third.”
The third confronted him with a question:
“WHAT IS THE MEANING OF LIFE?”
He was about to answer, “What?” then figured that would probably cause a short circuit. Was this a trick question, or was it one of those subjective emotional encryption locks that measured audio wavelengths to determine sincerity?
“Despair,” he replied.
“WHAT DO YOU DO?”
Ben had already set off a countermanding key program that would attempt to unravel the entire layer.
“I censor seditious material.”
“DO YOU ENJOY ‘I CENSOR SEDITIOUS MATERIAL’?”
“I love it.”
“WHY?”
His program was struggling to break in. He had another idea. If he could funnel a pathway through the encryption every time it processed his answers, it was possible to transfer the basic files on the portical.
“I protect people from disharmony.”
A harsh beep rang out loud, indicating a misstep. Akiko watched raptly. Ben figured another mistake or two, and both porticals would be destroyed.
“WHY?” Claire’s portical repeated.
“Because I like controlling things.”
“IS THERE A CONNECTION BETWEEN ‘DESPAIR’ AND ‘BECAUSE I LIKE CONTROLLING THINGS’?”
“I hope not.”
Her portical shut down and he quickly disconnected his.
“It’s dead?” Akiko asked.
“Hers is dead. But I transferred most of the files from her portical.”
He accessed her duplicated portical on his screen. Different orbits of influence popped up; her communications to friends, photographs, music tracks, all revolving around each other like the planets and the stars.
“What am I looking for?” he asked.
She sidled up next to him. “How did you get in?”
“It’s kind of like a good date. You just need to be adaptable.”
She searched through the different orbits, scouring for something. “You got everything?” she demanded impatiently.
“Not everything. But most of it.”
She cursed in Japanese under her breath. “It isn’t here.”
“What isn’t?”
She clicked on the photos. A gallery of images appeared: friends at parties, dances, restaurants, outings. There was one female companion that came up repeatedly.
“We’ll need to interrogate all of her companions,” Akiko said. “Can you have the photos sent to my portical?”
He tapped a few commands on the portical display screen. “Done.”
Ben looked at the wall, then back at the portical.
“I’m missing something,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“Why all this security on her portical if there isn’t anything valuable on here?” he wondered.
He went to her room, checked her mat, rummaged through her books, and peeked behind her desk. Some of the plants seemed removable and he inspected the soil, but there wasn’t anything other than roots. He opened the window and felt the wall right outside, just beyond view. Nothing. He went to the living room windows and checked there as well.
“What are you looking for?” Akiko asked.
Ben held up a lean metallic strip he’d found adhering to the external wall. “A peripheral unity driver. It synchronizes porticals.” He inserted it into his machine and a series of numbers popped up. “Normally, as long as you pass the security codes on your portical, it’ll sync directly and open up un-synced files. But if you fail, you won’t even know the sync didn’t happen unless you’re looking for it.” A new sphere appeared. “It looks like that game,
United States of America
.”
Akiko snatched the portical, pressed a few buttons. “Look at this introduction and the ludicrous exaggerations about the death tolls of the Americans,” she said, agitated.
“Why don’t you just censor it?”
“We’ve tried. But it’s become an underground hit and is spreading rapidly.” Akiko handed Ben back his portical. “What’s this ‘Kami mode’?”
“That’s world creation,” Ben replied. “It means she can change and design the world using her portical.”
“Is that standard in most games?”
“Sometimes. Depends on the designer.”
“If it’s on there, does that mean anyone can take the game simulator and modify it?”
“Pretty much.”
“We’ve found the game piggybacked with many top hits,” Akiko said. “Even if a censor were checking a game, they wouldn’t see it unless they knew the specific codes to access it.”
“How did
you
find them?”
Akiko looked grimly at him. “We can be convincing. I’ll need your portical back,” she said. “You’ll need to request a new one.”
“I always carry a few spares. Can I copy my personal items over?”
“Make it quick.”
Ben organized his portical and sent data into his personal database on the kikkai. A message came in for Akiko, which she read.
“Are you done?” she asked.
“Yep.”
Akiko held up the picture of Claire’s friend that seemed ubiquitous. “Command just informed me that the woman in the pictures is her friend, Jenna Fujimori, and is suspected of working with the Americans. They’re tracking her location at the moment. She was the one who was speaking in the communication with Claire when they mocked the Emperor. We hope she can tell us more about Mutsuraga’s current plans.”
“What’ll happen when you catch the general?”
“What do you think?”
“Are there any theories on why Claire…” He glanced involuntarily towards the bathroom.
“Perhaps she couldn’t bear the dishonor of her father’s sedition.”
As they went to the elevator, Akiko checked her portical again. There were no updates. “I need to eat,” she said.
“There’s a great tempura burger place nearby,” he offered.
“Let’s go.”
11:31AM
“Oh great, we beat the lunch rush,” Ben said. “I recommend the classic tempura burger. They dip their buns in honey and pecan sauce and it’s amazing. You can get vegetable or pork tempura. I personally like the shrimp. They catch it fresh and–”
“Order as you please,” she said. “I’ll leave my lunch choices to you.”
The interior of the restaurant was painted in a colorful mix of curry yellow and braised brown hues that made it resemble a fried crustacean. Statues of their mascot, Shrimp Boy, smiled at them from every corner. There was a playground in the middle of the restaurant and the walls were huge portical display screens showing both adult and children versions of the Shrimp Boy drama and cartoon series. Waiters and waitresses dressed in pink shrimp costumes bowed and welcomed them in Japanese: “Good afternoon, officers.”
They were escorted to a private room blocked off by shoji screens.
“It’s cheap, has great service, and the food is amazing,” Ben said excitedly. They took off their shoes and sat on the tatami mats. “The only place I like better for lunch is a chicken and waffle place on Pico that’s fantastic, though I’m really digging the Cajun sauce and boiling crab at this seafood place on Wilshire.”
Akiko took out her portical and started reading files.
Ben said, “I have a rule. No business during lunch.”
“Why not?” Akiko asked.
“Everyone needs a rest now and then.”
“The enemies of the Empire do not rest. Neither should we.”
Her eyes went back to her portical.
“What’s so interesting?” he asked.
“What are you seeking? An exchange of useless information?” She put her portical down. “What would you like to know?”
“A little bit about who you are.”
“I work seven days a week, my brother was killed by American terrorists, and I hate people who waste my time.”
“What do you like to do for fun?” Ben asked.
“Hunt traitors,” she snapped. “Anything else?”
The burgers came a few minutes later. Ben savored each bite, relishing the mix of the shrimp and the honey. Akiko chewed without a word. She only ate a quarter before commenting, “It’s too sweet,” then put it aside.
“The eggplant fries are pretty good,” Ben said.
She took a bite and spat it out. “They’re too salty.”
Ben was about halfway through his burger when she asked, “How much longer are you going to eat?”
“Just give me another minute.”
She sighed before looking at her portical again. A ring went off and she immediately picked up. “Hello, General,” she greeted.
“Any progress on the case?” the general asked.
“A little bit, sir. We’ve found evidence that Claire Mutsuraga had the game on her portical. It was a tricky connection, but I was able to figure out the best methodology of breaking through. I’m going through her files this very minute.”
“Excellent. Our first tangible connection. Well done.”
“Thank you, sir. I’ll be following up with her friend, Jenna Fujimori.”
“We’ve tracked Fujimori to the Compton Opera House where she is taking part in rehearsals. Head there and interrogate her. Report to me immediately once you learn anything new. Command has taken a direct interest in this and wants continual updates. You understand the revised orders that were sent earlier?”
To Ben’s surprise, Akiko seemed uncomfortable replying. “I do, sir. Is there any room for–”
“No,” the voice cut her off and the communication ended.
When Akiko looked up at Ben, he said, “I’m done,” even though he had a third left.
She looked away, clearly preoccupied by a troubling thought.
12:11PM
The Compton Opera House (known to everyone as the COH) was a favorite spot for first dates because of their beautiful gardens and an all-night zoo that was tailored for nature outings. The government had rebuilt Compton after massive riots destroyed it a few decades back. It was now one of the richest, most exclusive neighborhoods in Los Angeles. The COH was shaped in the dragon mask of the Emperor, a massive conglomerate of crimson eyes, a commanding nose, and snarling lips. Adjacent buildings included the Tojo Theater House and the Wachi Tea Gardens. Statues of the three treasures, the
Kusanagi
sword, the jewel
Yakani no Magatama
, and the mirror,
Yata no Kagami
, were the source of huge water fountains.
The pair went through the lobby of the opera house into the actual performance hall. The COH had converted the interior for a new show called the
Water Geisha
and a massive water tank half the size of the building was built inside. Ben had heard about the show, a thousand coordinated swimmers performing a dazzling water spectacle commemorating the Japanese victory in the Pacific during the Holy War. None of them were wearing their costumes yet, but submarines, aircraft carriers, and gunboats were each going to be personified in a tense drama set to music. The smell of chlorine pervaded and the temperature was warm enough to cause him to sweat under his uniform.
“That’s pretty amazing,” Ben said, marveling at the height of the tank.
Agent Tsukino approached one of the attendants, showed her badge, and said, “We need to see Jenna Fujimori.”
The carpet that usually lined the aisles had been stripped out in favor of cement. Performers were walking past them, many of them naked aside from a tiny oxygen mask for their breath. They were of different ethnicities and wore colored contact lenses that doubled as shielding for their eyes underwater. Hundreds of naked men and women swam within the tank and the lights swayed in a dance of their own, pirouetting and spinning in a resplendent swirl. A flurry of bubbles somehow turned into the shape of torpedoes that blew up upon contact with the live performers. A small group of gaudily dressed men and women were at the base outside of the tank, barking directions into their microphones. Many of the swimmers were short, stout, and muscular. The woman approaching them had arms that were twice the size of Ben’s own, though she looked to be under five feet tall. Her brunette hair was tied into a wet knot and she was wiping the water from her green eyes. She had the tattoo of a bat on her right shoulder and though she was stark naked, she didn’t seem embarrassed in the least bit. She also didn’t seem that pleased to see them. “What’s going on? I’m very busy and–”
Akiko showed her badge. “We need to talk with you. You should put some clothes on.”
“I have a skin suit on,” she said, referring to the transparent layer around her body. “The–”
“What’s going on here?” a man with green hair and a yellow swim suit demanded, as he approached them from the aisle. “I need her for the show.” He saw Akiko’s badge. “This show is for the celebration in four days. This is for the honor of the USJ. She doesn’t have time to waste with questions! I need her
now
!”
“Forgive me, Hideki-san,” Akiko said, though she did not bow. “We have some important questions regarding Imperial security.”
“I am going to file a complaint with the Ministry of Defense! How can I run a show without my performers?”
“Surely you can do without one for a short time.”
“For you, it’s just a short time. For me, it’s a ripple effect putting us behind by days we don’t have!” He started moaning in pain and there was even a tear in his eye. “None of you military types understand the arts. The only art you know is paranoia. Governor Ogasawa is personally attending opening night. The performance must be flawless.”
“Why don’t you have a replacement take her place?” Akiko suggested.
“You are taking her away from us?” he inquired, scandalized by the suggestion.
“I am.”
The man started hitting his head with his open palm and screeching. His assistants fanned him and did their best to console him, as he seemed about to swoon.
Akiko seized Jenna by the arm and, when she hesitated, eyed Ben. He grabbed Jenna by her other arm and helped escort her out.
“I thought you were just asking a few questions,” Jenna said.
“You won’t be returning tonight,” Akiko informed her.
“What did I do?”
“The question isn’t, what did you do wrong? What you’re really wondering is, what did you get caught doing?”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“We’ll see about that.”
They exited the opera house.
“Who was that man?” Ben asked Jenna.
“Director Hideki Inouye,” she replied.
The only non-ethnic Japanese person to direct a national ballet. Ben hadn’t recognized him with his green hair. Then again, Inouye usually had some outlandish hair style.
“You must play a really important part,” Ben said to her.
“I’m the
Panay,
one of fifty Western boats that got blown up during the Holy War,” Jenna answered. “I’m pretty much just an extra.”
12:54PM
Adjacent to the COH, a gray truck was parked. It was lugging a trailer that Ben presumed to be an interrogation room. The back was open, a ramp sticking out. They led Jenna up and, after they entered the truck, two men in black suits closed the door behind them. Along the walls were panels and porticals that were manned by various personnel. Two guards seized Jenna, tied her arms and legs together, then forcibly thrust her onto a chair. The surrounding lights dimmed and a spotlight beamed straight into her face.
“Jenna Fujimori,” Agent Tsukino began, “how would you like it if I broke both your legs and fractured your spine so you could never swim again?”
Ben felt a chill in his body. He wondered why they’d snatched her up in broad daylight at her place of work. If they really meant to break her legs, they could have grabbed her in the middle of the night so that no one would notice. This was meant to be a public arrest.
“That would not be good,” Jenna replied.
“If you cooperate with us, we may let you perform in future shows.”
“What about the
Water Geisha
?”
“Impossible,” Akiko said. “You are not a true patriot.”
“What do you mean?”
Akiko lifted up her index finger. From the speakers, a recording of Jenna’s voice played.
“What about Tim?” Jenna was asking.
“She’s worried he can’t have babies,” another voice asked. Ben recognized Claire’s voice
“I heard even the Emperor can’t have babies anymore,” Jenna replied. There were a few ribald jokes followed by giggles that seemed silly and childish, not by any means malicious. The recording came to an end.
“We were just joking around,” Jenna tried to defend herself.
“At the expense of the Almighty and Gracious Emperor. He has given you life! All you foreigners! He freed America from the tyranny of the slave drivers. And you think it’s funny to ridicule his ability to procreate? By extension, you are also mocking every one of his sons and daughters, and
their
sons and daughters, the whole royal line.”
“That wasn’t my intention.”
Akiko slapped Jenna across the face. “You are insolent in the face of obvious guilt! You don’t show an ounce of penitence!”
Jenna glowered back with angry eyes.
“You have something you want to say?” Akiko challenged her.
“I’m sorry about what I said.”
“You don’t sound sorry.”
“I am.”
“You should have had honor like your friend Claire.”
“What are you talking about?”
“She committed
jigai
to atone for her insolence.”
“What? When?”
Akiko slapped her again; this time blood dotted Jenna’s lip. “I’ve checked your financial records, the shows you’ve watched, and the game decisions you’ve made.” Akiko started listing her transactions and choices. By themselves, they might have been harmless. But in conjunction, manipulated and funneled into a verdict, Jenna’s guilt seemed beyond question. “Every action you’ve taken indicates a treasonous state of mind. Do you know what the punishment is for thought-treason?”
Jenna shook her head.
“Fifty years in a labor camp. How would you like to go to the labor camp at Catalina?”
“I would not.”
“When was the last time you saw Claire Mutsuraga?”
“I talked to her by portical two weeks ago, but I’ve mostly been busy with the sho–”
Akiko kicked her in the shin. “I have your portical records! You talked a week ago!”
“I don’t remember. It’s all mixed up and it’s been so hectic the last few days.”
“Did she talk about suicide?” Akiko asked.
“No, of course not.”
“You’re certain?”
“Yes!”
“Where is her father?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“I swear I don’t know,” Jenna replied in a panic. “I’ve only talked to him a handful of times.”
“About what?”
“Nothing important. Just stuff, you know?”
Akiko took out her silver gun. “There’s an old American religion that said if your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off. If your tongue, cut that out too.”
“I really don’t know anything.”
“This gun will rewrite the history of your blood. If I shoot you with this, in a minute you won’t be recognizable. In four, you will suffer untold agony. In seven minutes, you will die the worst death known in the Empire. I will only ask you once again. Where is Claire’s father?”
“I really don’t know!”
Akiko took the gun and fired into her neck. It took thirty seconds before Jenna started screaming.
“W-what’s happening?”
“Where is General Mutsuraga?” Akiko asked.
“I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know! Please-please d-don’t-don’t.”
Jenna vomited and the whole contour of her back transformed, muscles pressing against her flesh, causing it to bulge. Her breaths were feral, desperate, and lonely. Viruses were raiding her entire immune system, pillaging, sacking, and devouring. Nature never hesitated. The smell of her blood and shit filled the air. She’d released her bowels and her shrill cry continued. Ben turned his head away, but could hear her retching and struggling against her seat. He looked to Akiko. She noticed his gaze. He went to the back of the trailer and hit the door.
“Let me out,” he ordered. “Let me out!”
A guard complied. He rushed out and gasped. He’d seen executions, knew about torture methods from San Diego. But the way Jenna’s biochemistry mutated and the smell that followed was more repulsive than anything he’d been prepared for. It was never a good thing to betray yourself emotionally in that way. But he couldn’t help himself.
“I know it’s hard to see,” he heard Akiko say from behind him. “You handled it pretty well for the first time.”
“How many times have you done this?” he asked her.
“This was my thirteenth,” she replied. “She was guilty of collaborating in a terrorist act that resulted in the death of seventeen of our soldiers last year in Palos Verdes.”
“How do you know that?”
“We found the information on Claire’s portical after you cracked it open.”
“You didn’t ask her anything about it.”
“We’ll extract the memories from her brain.”
“What?” he said, startled because he didn’t know that was even possible.
“Biologics have asked for fresh subjects to test.”
“What if it doesn’t work?”
Ben saw Akiko’s face express the troubled look he’d seen earlier. It hardened when she noticed his attention. “Those were my orders,” she stated, with a harshness that seemed to compensate rather than affirm.
Ben involuntarily touched the side of his throat. “Why did you bring me along for this?”
“Because I don’t think you take your job seriously,” she said. “You’ve been reported multiple times by colleagues and subordinates. I think you are barely competent, a man who is too comfortable with what he views as a stable job. Why do you think you got passed over last night for a promotion? I want to remind you of the repercussions of your reports, to realize that what you see, what you censor, is taken very seriously. We must maintain constant vigilance against the enemies of the Empire.”
“You did this as a favor to me?”
“An interdepartmental reminder for an alumnus.”
“What is it about this game that has you so worried?”
“The fact that you have to ask that question means you haven’t learned your lesson yet.”
“You forget I graduated almost last in my class?”
“I never forget.”
“Do you need me for anything else?”
“Yes. But you’re free for the rest of the night. Go have your pointless fun at the kyotei races.” He was about to leave when she called him. “Captain Ishimura.”
“Yes?”
“Salute your superior officer before leaving.”
He saluted her. She dismissed him and went back into the interrogation trailer.
He stumbled his way to the subway entrance at the base of the plaza. Several civilians bowed to him to show their respect. He went to the restroom, saw that the “Other” door was marked “Out of Service.” He found the door for ethnic Japanese and made his way to the sink to wash his face. He wiped his nostrils clean, blew the snot out and washed his face again. The stink of Jenna’s death wouldn’t go away. He sat down on the bathroom floor and stared blankly at the people coming in. His portical rang. He ignored it.
6:12PM
One more inch and it would have been death. The driver swerved with just enough pressure to curve smoothly, rather than colliding with the two boats next to his. Nine mechanical horses raced as tribute to the miracle of man traversing water. The LA Kyotei Stadium was massive, water tracks that were second in size only to Tokyo. Thousands were in the crowd, and Ben and Tiffany sat in the box seats for Taiyo Tech along with five other couples.
“They’re amazing!” Tiffany Kaneko exclaimed. She’d dyed her hair blond since the previous evening and wore a red kimono. Though she hadn’t powdered her face white, many envious glances skittered in Ben’s direction.
He sulkily sipped on a tiny cup of
sake
.
“What’s wrong?” Tiffany asked.
He forced a smile, realizing people next to their box seat were watching them. “I’m amazed by the race. Chao’s dexterous for a fat man.”
“His fat is deceptive. Look at him on those corners,” she said. “He uses his weight to counterbalance those turns. He eats an ungodly amount of ramen to keep those handles. He used to be really skinny, but he wasn’t as good. His big butt keeps him glued to the boat.”
“Were you the one who was telling me you found big butts on men attractive?”
“A man who sits a lot won’t run off on you.”
“I don’t think you have to worry about men running off on you,” Ben noted.
“I’m always telling my girlfriends to find a fat man.”
“You eyeing Chao?”
She giggled. “I bet he’d be having more fun tonight. What’s bugging you, Mr Iko?” She said the last word like “mystery” + “ko,” her favorite nickname for him.
“I hear it’s quite chic for officers to change the dye of their hair.”
“You’re pondering what color to change your hair to?” she asked.
“How do you think I’d look with blond hair like yours?”
“I like black hair,” she replied. “I should write an opinion piece on it after I finish the two pieces I’m working on.”
“What are they about?”
“Can’t say.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t want you to censor it preemptively,” she said.
“I only give suggestions so you won’t get into trouble.”
“I know and I appreciate it. But there used to be a thing called ‘freedom of press’ where you didn’t have to worry about offending the wrong person or political group.”
He put his hand on her waist and said, “I still have the freedom to press you.”
“There’s people around. Later,” she promised.
“You gonna tell me what you wrote about?”
“My dream last night.”
“You dreamt of kyotei racers?”
“Rats. I lived in a big mansion and it was gorgeous. But anytime I tried to sleep, I was covered by rats.”
“Did they smell bad?”
“Do rats smell?”
“I never tried smelling one,” Ben replied.
“Why don’t you try next time?”
He sniffed her clothes and she pushed him away with a laugh. “After the rat dream, I dreamt I was married to a man whose first wife had died. He was still in love with her and, no matter what I did, he couldn’t let go. It was so sad.”
Ben’s mind went to Mutsuraga. “Based on a true story?”
“Probably a movie I watched somewhere. Would you censor a sad story?”
“If it was boring.”
“You find all sad stories boring.”
“All sad stories ring the same. It’s the happy ones that… wait, is that a line from somewhere?”
“I think you have it in reverse.”
“You want a happy family?”
“I’d love a miserable one where everyone hated each other.”
“Why?”
“So we could find redemption in each other’s arms.” She kissed him. “Why aren’t you watching the races?”
“How can I when you’re next to me?” he said, moving his hands lower to her hips.
“What about
go
tonight?”
“Sounds great. Let’s go,” Ben said.
“Go to play
go
?”
“Go home and play something else.”
“All you officers only have one thing on your mind.”
“What’s that?”
“Procreation,” Tiffany said.
“I consider it a form of recreation.”
“Let me watch Sollazzo race. Please? Pretty please?”
He nodded and she clapped gratefully.
“Can you be a darling and get me some yakitori and rice candy from outside?” she asked, in a way that was gentle enough to be forceful.
He saluted her and exited the box, down the escalator. Many attendees bowed as they passed him. A group of enlisted men saluted him. When he got to the food stand, there was a long line. An attendant bowed to him and said, “Sir, please go to the front.”
He shook his head. “It’s not necessary. I can wait.”
“No, no. Officers should not wait.”
“It’s fine. Thank you.”
A new round commenced on screen. The racers were speeding around the course. For all purposes, he looked like a soldier waiting in line to grab food for his lover.
“Good match, isn’t it?” someone asked.
“Wh… yes, yes,” he stammered. “Been waiting all week for this.”
“Who you rooting for?”
He had to look at the screens to remember the names of the racers.
8:37PM
After they got back to his apartment, Tiffany slipped out of her kimono and started to kiss him. He caressed her breasts, her light brown nipples perking up. She had the tattoo of a three-headed lizard to the right of her belly button, a mascot and symbol of good luck from the Northern Campaigns when an actual three-headed lizard was supposed to have led the stray Japanese army into the camps of American rebels.
A few minutes later, she asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.”
She felt his pants. “This isn’t like you. You were so giddy earlier.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Why don’t you lay down? Let me give you a massage.”
She helped him undress. He lay in bed. She put her hands on his shoulders. “There’s the problem. All the nerves are bunched up.” She massaged his neck, rubbing out the tension.
“You still remember your university days?” he asked.
“Of course.”
“Good memories?”
“Good and bad. What about you?”
“The cadre sent us down to San Diego for part of our officer training. One of the first things they had us do was chop off the head of a prisoner. They brought this skinny guy out for me. I could see his rib cage and he had a hard time breathing. They tied him to a pole. Told me I had to cut his head off. The man was so scared, he shat himself. I couldn’t do it. Tried to, but my hands wouldn’t move. After that, they said I didn’t have what it took to serve in San Diego and gave me all sorts of demerits.” He got up on his elbows. “I still think about how scared that guy was.”
“Why?”
“Maybe I have a psychological defect. Shooting an enemy, that’s one thing. But cutting off their head. I don’t know if I could ever do that. But I might have to. Someone said to me,” and he did his best to mimic a deeper voice, “‘The sword is an extension of our soul. Used properly, it becomes a part of who we are, an expression of our being. Kill a man with a gun, and you have no connection to him. Kill him with a sword, and your souls are intertwined.’”
“It would have been shocking for anyone to be faced with that kind of situation without any context,” she said. “Don’t feel bad.”
“The officers made so much fun of my name back then.”
“I love your name, Beniko. It has a lovely ring to it.”
“It’s a woman’s name.”
“Your mom picked it?”
He nodded. “Before I was born. She was convinced I’d be a girl.”
Tiffany touched his face. “You would have been very pretty.”
“I didn’t like them mocking me and they even attacked my parents for giving me that name. When I tried to defend them, they asked me why I cared. Didn’t I turn them in? I couldn’t say anything and their bullying got worse, so I stopped caring and just fooled around. It worsened my reputation and I’ve never been able to shake it.” He kissed her and asked, “Do you ever feel like covering anything other than kyotei and football?”
“Like scarred captains of the army?”
He laughed. “I’m sorry I’ve been out of it tonight.”
“You should be. I’m going out of town for the next week. Big kyotei matches in Beiping and Hong Kong.”
“You’re not covering the Anniversary?”
“I am, but from Beiping.”
“Do you have different lovers in every town?”
“You really want to know, or will that spoil the fun?”
“You know I don’t get jealous about things like that,” he said. “I just wonder what you’re like around different people.”
“The same. Well, a little different.”
He held her chin, looked her in the eye.
“I’m gonna miss you,” she said.
“It’ll only be a week. I’ll be here waiting.”
There was a look of regret in her eyes and he wondered why.
“Lay back down,” she ordered, then continued to massage him. “Go to sleep.”
“I’m not tired. I have so much to do.”
“Like what?”
“Plan a funeral,” Ben said. “And keep a promise I made a long time ago.”
“What promise?”
“I’m sworn to secrecy.”
She moved her hands down his back. “You can take care of your secrets tomorrow. Tonight, clear your mind of thoughts.”
“I wish I could.”
“Let me help you.”
“How?”
“With pain.”
She intensified the strength of her massages. Ben drowned his restlessness in tactile vacuity.
11:41PM
The tenth portical ring woke him. Tiffany was nowhere in sight. Ben turned on the portical. There was no video, only an audio call from a number he didn’t recognize.
“You’re still alive.”
“Who’s this?” Ben asked.
“It’s
me
,” Agent Akiko Tsukino said. Her number was blocked as with all members of Tokko to maintain their privacy.
“Do you need something?”
“Check under your bed,” she ordered.
“Why?”
“Just look. I need to confirm if they’ve targeted you as well.”
He moved to the edge, shone his portical below. To his surprise, there was a device there he’d never seen before, crowded with wires and what appeared to be explosives.
“W-what is that?” Ben stuttered.
“Is there a red light on?”
Ben saw the red beam shining in his eyes. “Yes.”
“That means it’s armed. The bomb is pressure sensitive.”
“You mean if I get off the bed–”
“You’ll die unless you listen to me,” Akiko replied.
“How did this happen?”
“Someone wants you dead. There’ve been several names targeted on a list I found on Jenna’s belongings, including you. The others are already dead.”
“Can you send a bomb squad?”
“We just had them try on another target.”
“And?”
“They were killed. I’m outside your apartment building. The technicians designed a jamming signal I can send out, but it’ll only last a minute before it gets overridden.”
“What do I do?” Ben asked.
“Hold on. Let me sync with the bomb’s kikkai signal.”
Ben looked at all the paintings on the wall, thought of the days he’d spent aligning the furniture to get optimal feng shui.
“I got it,” Akiko said. “Leave your portical on the bed, open your window, and jump out.”
“Is there a Plan B?”
“What’s wrong with Plan A?”
He envisioned himself splattering against the cement. “I think I’d rather die in an explosion than falling down from a building.”
“Can’t you take a leap of faith?”
“In you?”
“I’ll release a safety net,” she assured him – the nets that went up in case people tried to commit suicide from the tops of buildings.
“Very generous of you. Why would you care if I lived or died?”
“I still need your help tracking down the general.”
“So this isn’t an interdepartmental favor to your alumnus?”
“Not this time.”
“If I’m not very helpful, will you shoot me too?”
“I shoot anyone who betrays the Emperor.”
It was madness to jump out of a building. But did he have any other choice? He looked under the bed again. There were explosives all right. Was this how he was going to die?
Think, Ben, think!
If he jumped out the window and she didn’t trigger the net, it was very possible they could call his death a suicide. An all-too-convenient closure to a Tokko plan to dispose of him. He preferred to leave a bloody mess. He looked over at the window and knew it was a far drop down. Too far.
“Jam it,” Ben said to Akiko. He tossed the portical down, ran out his room and down the stairs, nearly slipping. He rushed to the front door and grabbed the samurai armor. As it was coated in titanium, he hoped it would provide some protection. He lifted the chest plate and covered his body, ran out of the unit and shut the door behind him. The elevator seemed like a bad option so he went for the stairs when he heard a rumble. The fire was oddly cold and he felt something hurtle into his back and propel him downwards. He closed his eyes, ready for death. “
Shikata ga nai
,” he murmured to himself, feeling morbidly satisfied that his concluding emotion was a sense of welcoming.
LOS ANGELES
July 1, 1988
1:36am
Just under twenty-four hours earlier, Akiko had woken her boyfriend early in the morning. Night was dissolving into day and a layer of fog dallied over Venice Beach. She remembered traces of a dream, an old friend painting his house blue, covering the lamps, shelves, even the flowers in a darker hue of ultramarine. She’d reminded her boyfriend of his duty. “If more men with your genetic history don’t contribute to the fertility clinic, the population of pureblooded Japanese will disappear in the USJ.”
“Do you know what I have to do there every day?” he’d protested. “They take the joy out of–”
Everything was nothing for her, while seeming nothingness could signify anything in the proper context. In the wrong context, her concerns about the infertility Japanese men were experiencing from all the atomic weapon testing going on in Nevada could be construed as treasonous.
“Why’d you volunteer me for this?” he groaned.
“Because we’re citizens of the Empire and it’s our obligation to help in any way possible.”
“What’s the big deal about being pure Japanese? You’re French and Korean, and you’re a more important part of the Empire than I ever will be.”
She bristled at his reminder of her polluted ancestry. “The fact that you’re full blooded Japanese is essential to the Empire,” she said, even though, objectively, it made no sense. Some of the finest officers she’d served with were of mixed ethnicity, whereas many of the pureblooded Japanese were arrogant assholes who felt too privileged to listen to common sense.
As an agent of Tokko, she knew hints of personality had to be vanquished. Akiko possessed no photos, despised most gifts as junk, and had only the most utilitarian of furniture. Her kitchen was bare as she rarely ate at home. The floors were concrete and the wood was stripped out in case of electronic bugs. There were no shelves betraying books of interest, nothing worthy of being categorized as a hobby, though she did possess an extensive library of writing recommended during her time at BEMAG on her portical.
She was extremely satisfied with the thought that even if her apartment had been targeted by the terrorists, she’d have lost nothing and her room would be almost indistinguishable from a thousand others. Anonymity was her secret identity. Her appearances were mostly natural with only a minimal amount of sun cream to protect her skin. For official agency visits, she wore dark red lipstick and colored her eyes violet because she found the effect intimidating for her subjects. It was a color combination she’d worked at over the years to produce an almost warpaint-like appearance, and it was the one she’d used when she met Beniko Ishimura.
Almost a day after she’d sent her boyfriend to the clinic, she was at the hospital with Ben. He’d survived the attack and was lying on a hospital bed in front of her, his back being treated for burns. The doctor had assured her he’d be able to return to duty in a few hours, saved by his suit of armor.
“Thanks for coming for me,” Ben said to her. “If you hadn’t delayed that bomb, I’d be a thousand pieces right now.”
“It was my duty,” she replied.
“Even if it was, I’m grateful,” he said. He turned to the side. “I honestly didn’t think you would give a shit whether I lived or died.”
“Why would I not? We’re both servants of the Emperor.”
“I’m glad you still feel that way.”
“Why didn’t you trust me when I asked you to jump out of the window?” she demanded. “If I wanted you dead, I wouldn’t have gone through such an elaborate ruse.”
“It’s not that I didn’t trust you,” he replied. “I’m just afraid of heights.”
She looked at his scars, which were already looking better. “You’re fortunate Los Angeles has the best medical facilities in the Empire.”
The Empire’s state of the art biotechnology had eliminated most known diseases, a fact not lost on all the German officials she saw in the hallway. The burn marks on Ben’s back were rapidly healing, but her mind involuntarily went back to the night her brother had been killed by explosives from an American terrorist attack. He’d been burned beyond recognition and, for a moment, the blackened groove of Ben’s skin looked the same. Still, it was only an archipelago of burn marks in an ocean of flesh compared to the lava field that had been her brother. Ben had survived with superficial wounds to his back and arm.
“I feel very fortunate,” Ben said. “And grateful.”
Her principal mission had been to execute Jenna publicly, despite her protests to the contrary, and have her brain ready for Biologics. Akiko had also been told to assess the captain, determine if the complaints about his lazy work ethic were true. She didn’t like him, didn’t think he took his job seriously enough. But as she reported, he had been able to crack Claire’s portical when over thirty specialists had failed.
“How many others died?” he asked.
“I don’t have the exact number. Other agents are still collating the information.”
“Anyone you know pass away?”
“Someone leading the bomb squad,” Akiko replied. “I was supposed to be in her place.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“I didn’t know her well,” Akiko stated. “But she died in the line of service. There is no greater honor.”
“It’s still tough having someone die in your place.”
“People die and are reborn into a new life. It’s the skewed circle that drives our existence. She took my place. I’ll take someone else’s someday.”
“You believe in reincarnation?”
“Why do you seem surprised?”
“Tokko usually aren’t religious.”
“Everything gets recycled. Star dust, cow shit, even our ashes. Why not the electrical impulses of our brain? You don’t believe it?”
Ben shook his head. “No.”
“That’s why you fear killing,” she stated.
“I fear birth more than murder.”
“Birth?”
“Bringing children into our world without any regard for their desires is a crime. Even if they are ‘reborn souls.’”
“Only a man who’d turn in his own parents would say something like that,” Akiko remarked.
Ben seemed about to defend himself when a nurse came in. She removed the regenerative gels that were treating his burns. “Please stay this way for the next two hours,” she said, put the gels back on, and left.
“Any idea who set the bombs?” Ben asked Akiko.
“The main suspect is your girlfriend, Tiffany Kaneko,” she answered.
“That’s impossible,” Ben said.
“Why? She was the last person you were with. There’s a lot of unusual activity in her itinerary for the past month that can’t be accounted for on standard records.”
“You mean she travels a lot. She’s a journalist.”
“You feel an attachment to her?”
“Of course,” Ben replied.
“Even if she may have been the one who tried to kill you?”
“I highly doubt it.”
“Doubt is my area of expertise, Captain Ishimura. It’s never wise to ignore doubt of any nature.”
“If it was only me, it’d make sense. But this is way bigger than that.”
“I’ve considered that,” Akiko said. “I have officers investigating your home and they’ll get back to me if they find anything in the debris. I’m curious how long those explosives were there and why they picked tonight to set them off.” She stood up.
“Where are you going?” Ben asked.
“To speak with Tiffany.”
“Let me come with you.”
“You still need the gels to work on your back.”
“I’m fine.”
The bioscans behind him measuring various statistics indicated nominal health conditions. “You could compromise the case with your bias,” she said.
“What’s that mean?”
“If your girlfriend turns out to be the one who implemented the bomb, she will be executed.”
“And if she’s innocent?”
“Everyone’s guilty. It’s only a matter of figuring out what for.”
“What about Tokko?”
“If we weren’t guilty of something, we wouldn’t be good at our jobs.”
Ben tried to stand, but Akiko stopped him. “There’s an incident I need to investigate,” she said.
“What kind of incident?”
“The Gogo Arcade is having unusual problems.”
“I like the Gogo Arcade,” Ben said. “Let me come along.”
She was about to refuse him, but something in his eagerness reminded her of her brother. “Give the gels another two hours to work and then meet me.”
Ben lay back down.
“I’m sending you the directions for the Go–”
“I know where the Gogo Arcade is.”
She went down into the underground parking lot and saw the shadow of a massive winged creature flapping on the wall. It took a moment for her to realize it was a tiny moth brushing right against the light, projecting a black silhouette as its bigger alter ego. She hopped into her car and took out a piece of gum from the glove department. “Any updates?” she asked the centralized communicator hooked into the car’s portical, as she drove to her destination.
“Nothing new since your last check,” the operator from Tokko command answered. “Forensics is still investigating the site.”
“Any mission parameters at the Gogo?”
“You are to question Tiffany Kaneko and determine if she’s a viable suspect.”
Akiko had not told Ben that Tiffany was last seen at the arcade with a group of kyotei racers, partying in their karaoke booths. “Is she considered disposable?”
“Not at this time.”
Which meant the evidence was circumstantial at best. Akiko rubbed her eyes, feeling tired, wanting a cigarette. But she’d quit, or at least told herself she’d quit. She’d go find coffee at the arcade.
2:08AM
Gogo Arcade was as big as some shopping malls and was bustling with activity. The complex was four stories tall and almost two hundred and forty thousand square meters in size. Tubed escalators connected the gaming center to peripheral shopping malls. The first floor was packed with slot machines,
pachinko
machines, and
takarakuji
vendors. Bars were stationed at almost every corner, and waitresses and waiters bowed to those passing by. The second and third floors were brimming with games that players could directly connect into their porticals. Big screens showed off a variety of simulations: fight as a soldier in the Holy War; pilot a mecha; or mow down rebels as the player-controlled bullets in an artillery assault. Huge battles took place over individual porticals projected on the arcade screen, thousands fighting against thousands of others, reinforced in their ideology that
gyokusai
(“a glorious death”) was the ultimate blessing. For those who wanted to take a break from the hyperrealistic visuals of combat, there was also an eclectic share of simulation games – be a bedbug for the night and multiply as much as possible; live life as a brick for ten years; become a raccoon and travel through time; and channel a fire and burn as much of an old American city as possible (of course, all the victims were ethnically non-Japanese as regulated by the censors). The amalgam of noise was so deafening, it became a sonorous blur of gunshots, explosions, and expletives. It was a constant barrage of stimulation, spectacle vying to outdo itself in a visual orgy more blinding than the gorgons. Akiko wondered if the study of unidentified human whimsies had a name.
She’d never liked games. Her brother played them every chance he could and his decision to join the army was directly influenced by his love of war games.
“I want to be like the heroes in
Honor of Death
!” he’d said.
“
Baka
,” she cursed him. “It’s just a game.”
The fervor and intensity with which people played their porticals perturbed her. Even her boyfriend, Hideyoshi, played addictively into the night. A fight between eight gamers had to be broken up by arcade security and a shouting match between lovers over a misreported score had to be quelled by guards. Akiko knew all gaming fell under the Department of Peaceful Propaganda, but she did not like the effect it had on the citizens. She picked up a coffee, averting her eyes from the cigarette rack. She sniffed the cigarette smoke in the air, hoping to get a little jolt. It had been six days since she’d promised herself she’d stop.
The karaoke stations were in the eastern wing of the fourth floor. Many were fronts for hostess and host bars – male and female “escorts” whose time could be bought for companionship. Shortly after her graduation a few years back, some of her classmates had taken her to a host bar to celebrate. While she found many of the men handsome and charming, they were too artificial to take seriously. The men barked back whatever they thought she wanted to hear and were essentially caricaturized companions. She was surprised, then, to find her male classmates loved female artifice even though it was so obviously an illusion.
It was one of those host men that greeted her at the front of the Alchemist Bar, which was located on the top floor of the arcade. He was muscular with orange hair spiraling like a minaret above his head. Utterly ridiculous if he wasn’t so cute. “For one?” he asked, smiling with dimples. According to the portical scan, his nickname was Hornet. He was twenty-two, never went to college, and lived in an apartment in Torrance.
She took out her badge and showed the image of Tiffany on her portical. “I’m looking for this woman. Her name’s Tiffany Kaneko and she was seen here earlier.”
“I don’t recall–”
“Hornet – why do they call you that?”
He smiled in fake coyness. “Because I sting in bed.”
“I can tell they’d love your sting in a labor camp at Catalina. Do you know much about what they do to fresh prisoners in Catalina?”
“I’ve heard stories.”
“You’ve already been arrested four times on obscenity charges. I could arrest you for a fifth.”
“On what charge? I have my license now.”
“Poor memory,” she replied.
He lowered his eyes. “I don’t remember exactly when they went in, but they’re in the back.”
He escorted her through the marble hallway. Akiko connected into Tiffany’s portical, accessing the camera as well as the audio speakers. There was loud music in the background and it was dark with strobe lights flashing so that it was impossible to see out the camera on her portical. Rooms filled with patrons were on either side of them, drunks bawling their souls out in hopes of one night of absolution. Karaoke was their escape, an attempt to exorcise the manacles of everyday routine. In civilian life, drinking binges and singing escapades were a form of bonding necessitated by the caprice of bosses who imposed their will on those below them. Akiko found the Tokko ban on fraternization a relief. They were trained to be suspicious of everyone, even each other.
Hornet went into the room and dragged Tiffany out. Tiffany was drunk, wearing a slinky red dress, her blond hair a mess from dancing. Hornet bowed and excused himself.
“What can I do for you?” Tiffany asked.
“When was the last time you saw Beniko Ishimura?” Akiko asked back, as she showed her badge.
“Earlier tonight. Why?”
“How would you describe your relationship with him?”
“We’re… close friends.”
“Any hostility between you two?”
“Of course not,” Tiffany replied. “Did something happen to him?”
“Do you have any reason to believe something might have happened to him?”
“A member of the Tokko asking me about him seems like a good reason.”
“Did Ishimura act strange at all?” Akiko asked, paying careful attention to Tiffany’s response.
“He seemed distant, like something was bothering him.”
“Did he say what?”
“No. I figured he just had a bad day at work.”
“Is it common for him to have a bad day at work?”
“He’s usually cheerful.”
“Did you notice any unusual people in or outside of the apartment tonight?”
“Definitely not inside, but outside?” She thought back. “No.”
“Why aren’t you with him?” Akiko asked.
“He fell asleep and these guys wanted to party. I’m writing a story about kyotei racing and thought it’d be a good chance to get to know them better.”
“Interactive journalism?”
“Something like that.”
“Wouldn’t that affect your objectivity?”
“I’m good at setting boundaries.”
“Was Beniko a story?”
Tiffany smiled. “While I’d love to write a story about the office of the censor, no. My relationship with him is purely for pleasure. Is something going on?”
Akiko was about to answer when someone familiar popped her head out of the room. “Tiffany?” she called. “Everything OK?”
Akiko startled. It was the girl she’d executed earlier, Jenna. Except she looked normal, untouched by the virus.
“Don’t worry,” Tiffany replied to her.
When Akiko stared at the woman again, a completely different face was there, much rounder with a leaner nose. There was no resemblance at all.
“Here’s my itinerary for the past week,” Tiffany offered, showing her portical’s calendar. “I can get witnesses for most of my schedule.”
Akiko perused it. There did not seem to be anything overtly suspicious.
“Any more questions, officer?” Tiffany asked, taking her portical back.
Akiko shook her head. “I’ll contact you if I have.”
“I’m flying out to Beiping in the morning.”
Her business completed, Akiko hastily exited. Hornet bowed to her as she left, but she did not acknowledge him.
2:45AM
It’s because I’m tired
, she told herself.
I need to get home and sleep
. She prepared a short report to Command in a conference room security provided, explaining that a preliminary questioning indicated no leads from Tiffany. Afterwards, she walked through the arcade and watched as thousands of gamers waged a digital war. General Mutsuraga, the gaming
taisho
, developed war simulations in the first Mexican Conflicts and the San Diego Uprising that had been uncannily accurate, helping them to annihilate their opposition. When the Nazis caused an uproar over Afghanistan, Mutsuraga had programmed tactical games that prepared them for almost every contingency the German army would make. It was as though Mutsuraga knew their steps before they did. There was no doubt of his brilliance and his value to the Empire if it hadn’t been marred by his wife’s death. Akiko wondered again why his wife went out to a public marketplace in San Diego unguarded despite the ongoing revolt, a question she had never been able to resolve.
She saw that Hideyoshi had called. She called back, but he did not answer. He was most likely already sleeping.
I should get back home
, she thought. But she didn’t want to rest yet. She wandered the arcade, observing the people. She understood the teens who were there, but it was the older players that boggled her. Why were they here in the middle of the night, hooked to a slot machine or portical game? Did they have family? Her portical could easily register and detail their personal life back to her, but she liked playing the only game she ever enjoyed – guessing people’s lives. She saw a balding man playing a simulation as a cat. She theorized he was a father of three whose family life he was trying to escape by taking on the tranquility of a lazy feline. The portical confirmed three children, but his wife had recently passed away as had their family cat. Two of his boys served as enlisted men in Vietnam, while the third had been killed. Onto an elderly woman with a thin frame, who was playing a samurai game slashing at horrifying
kami
(spirits). Akiko saw her gold watch and general demeanor, surmised she was a rich woman with a string of young lovers. The portical report indicated she’d been married over twenty years, had two children, and lived in wealth thanks to her engineer husband who was currently on a business trip to New Berlin on the Britannic Islands. Akiko noted the recorded logs of liaisons the woman had enjoyed at host bars. She was about to guess at a few more when all the screens changed.
“Imagine a world where everyone is equal,” a voice declared over the arcade speakers. “Where men and women of all races live in peace. A world where the Chinese and the Africans and the Jews still exist, not mercilessly massacred. Every minute we are told lies, told ‘inferior races’ were wiped away by false plagues. Our literature, our history, even our religion is being reshaped. Genghis Khan was not Japanese. Jesus Christ was not a Shinto priest. Franklin Roosevelt did not voluntarily surrender to the Japanese Empire. America was not a cruel, despotic country bent on annihilating Japan and Germany. It was a land of freedom that believed the pursuit of happiness was an inalienable right. They had no Emperor – their leaders were chosen by and for the people. They could say, do, write, and believe whatever they chose. The United States of Japan has forced themselves onto what was once the greatest nation in the world. Now, rise up, take back the country, return it to what it once was – the United States of America.”
The game opened up with Japanese soldiers executing a group of unarmed civilians, thousands of them brutally murdered. Those who tried to escape were either stabbed in the back or shot in the head. Some of the digital Japanese soldiers laughed as they performed “cutting tests” and decapitated children.
She recognized Mutsuraga’s game all too well as she’d been given a demonstration of it earlier. There was a funereal silence as gamers were engrossed. She called Command to notify them, explaining in brief what had transpired. “The game is playing on every screen. What should I do?” she asked the operator who relayed orders from Command.
“Stay put for now.”
“But they’re all playing it.”
“We are sending assistance.”
“Let me at least try to shut it down.”
“Hold still, major.”
“But–”
Her communication was broken and another figure appeared on her screen. “Major Tsukino.”
“General Wakana,” she called.
“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
The communication ended. She felt relieved.
On several portical screens, the alternate history the game proposed kept on replaying. She found the premise ludicrous. Everyone knew the Imperial Army showed mercy to obedient civilians, going out of their way to help people. Collateral damage was an unfortunate reality of warfare and innocents couldn’t avoid being harmed. But for mass executions, it was only rebels and their families – people who furtively supported the war effort – who were punished. They could hardly be considered innocent when they were supplying arms and a lifeline to dangerous dissidents who abetted in the death of loyal soldiers.
The whole narrative of the game revolved around a decision made early in the Pacific War and a detailed cinematic analyzed the diverging path. At the time the Nazis invaded the Soviet Union, they asked the Japanese Empire to attack from the east. Tokyo Command wanted to attack French Indochina to obtain severely lacking resources, particularly oil, which was scarce (once the war was over, ending their dependence on oil became one of the Empire’s highest priorities). This was also motivated by the earlier defeat of the Kwantung Army during the Battles of Khalkhin Gol, including a beating at the hands of the Soviet general, Georgy Zhukov. Minister of Foreign Affairs, Yosuke Matsuoka, a hero who had been the one to furiously lead the charge to quit the incompetent League of Nations, convinced the Imperial army to attack the Soviet Union, believing an assault on Indochina would result in retaliatory actions by the Americans and the British. “We must either shed our blood or embark on diplomacy. And it’s better to shed blood,” he’d said. He also argued that the earlier Japanese defeat at Russian hands had been precipitated by the Kwantung army’s carelessness and refusal to coordinate with the IJA rather than the strength of the Soviets.
His argument prevailed and, before the cold winter hit, Germany conquered Moscow, Japan keeping much of the eastern Russian army diverted. The next year, they carved up the Soviet Union. Victory over the west followed naturally.
According to the
USA
game, Japan made the foolish decision to attack Indochina first, bringing the US and Britain in early against the Empire. A preposterous turn of events; but even had they entered at that point in 1941 rather than six years later when the Germans, together with Japan, had developed the atomic torpedo, the Empire would have crushed them.
Only one thing troubled her. She had always been inspired by the story of Genghis Khan as a great Japanese conqueror of China, killed by an unfortunate twist of fate when his horse threw him off. The implication that Khan wasn’t Japanese flustered her. The game was a virus that needed to be eradicated. Better to put it out of her mind.
3:12AM
General Wakana wore his ceremonial swords over his collarless black uniform, though he’d dispensed with his standard cape. He walked with a slight limp, leaning on a staff that was made of ivory, rings on each of his fingers. His uniform was covered with medals that indicated service in Mexico and Vietnam. He was a tall man with lean, hungry cheeks and a closely groomed mustache. His hazel eyes were inquisitive, though there was a violence in his gaze that verged on broodiness. His smile was tightly controlled, the muscles in his mouth taut. He was not a man accustomed to levity.
Behind him were trucks filled with soldiers.
Agent Tsukino saluted him and stated, “I strongly advise we shut the whole arcade down, sir.”
“Why?”
“Because of the game, sir. We have to prevent its spread.”
“I take it you’re not aware that this isn’t an isolated incident?”
“I was not.”
“It’s happening in arcades all over the USJ at this very minute. This was a coordinated launch. We don’t want to shut it down until we can determine the source.”
“This might be why they set off those bombs tonight,” Akiko mused.
Wakana considered the connection. “It doesn’t seem like a coincidence.”
“We should stop them,” she said, looking at the crowd. “It’ll engender sedition if we let it continue.”
“Do you have so little faith in the Empire that you think a game will threaten it?”
“Of course not, sir.”
“If we block them, it will only make them more curious,” the general said. “No. Better to let them get it out of their system while we investigate.”
He was right, of course, Akiko inwardly acknowledged. The game had been spreading despite all their attempts at blocking it.
“I’ve ordered the dispatch of soldiers to physically record everyone playing the game,” the general said.
“Why’s that, sir?” she asked. “All portical activity is automatically recorded and we’ll have a list of everyone present.”
“Intimidation.”
They entered the arcade and, sure enough, the sight of hundreds of soldiers recording all the activity on the floor unnerved many of the gamers, especially as the troops did not impede their play.
Akiko’s portical rang. It was Ben. “I’m here,” he said. “Where are you?”
He arrived five minutes later.
“It’s been a long time, Ishimura,” Wakana said to Ben.
“Yes, sir,” Ben answered.
Akiko was surprised that they knew each other.
“I was relieved to hear you survived the blast,” the general said.
“Thank you, sir,” Ben replied.
“You’re going to help us out with this mess?”
“I’ll try, sir.”
“This kind of operation needs heavy equipment, doesn’t it?” Akiko asked. “A year ago, some activists took over a gaming conference and switched up all the scores in a private portical they made inside a bathroom stall. There has to be a central hub either in the mall or somewhere close where all of this was carried out. If we check the circuits and see if there’s any power surges or high concentrations of electrical use, I bet we can track them.”
“Good thinking,” Wakana said. “I’ll have the soldiers search the grounds and check electrical activity.”
“There’s also a chance that the woman I was investigating was connected to these events. I wasn’t sure earlier, but, in light of the situation, I should follow up.”
“Which woman?” Ben asked.
“Tiffany Kaneko,” she replied.
“She’s here?”
Akiko nodded.
“I’m coming with you,” Ben said.
“I need you here,” Wakana said to Ben. To Akiko, he said, “You’re right. She is connected. Don’t question her in front of the group. Just bring her here.”
She bowed as she left his presence. General Wakana got back to hawkishly watching everyone on the floor.
3:41AM
Tiffany was still singing, trying to follow along with the tracks of the popular female band, Vertical Pink. At least that’s what it sounded like from outside. When Akiko entered the room, six of them were bunched around the screen, playing the
USA
game, hypnotized and not even noticing her entrance. Akiko called Tiffany three times but she did not hear as she was singing on a karaoke machine in the corner. Furious when she saw Japanese soldiers being shot at as enemies, Akiko took out her pistol and fired at the screen, destroying it.
They turned to her. “Enjoying yourselves? That game is against the law.” She grabbed one of the men, slapped him in the face, and asked, “How would you like to spend the next thirty years in a labor camp? All of you?”
“We thought it was something for the anniversary,” Tiffany cut in.
“Outside,” Akiko ordered, as she stepped back into the hall.
Tiffany followed, closing the door behind her.
“Are we not supposed to be playing the game?” she wanted to know.
“Have you played it before?”
“This is the first time I’ve seen it.”
“Have you heard anything about it?”
“No,” Tiffany replied. “It’s a strange concept for a game – I can’t imagine the chaos the world would be in if the Americans had won.”
“My superior, General Wakana, would like to see you.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you,” Akiko confirmed.
“For what?”
“He has questions.”
As they left, a pair of blond waitresses with enameled faces greeted several guests, asking, “Would you like some company?”
“What do you think of them?” Tiffany asked.
“They look like mannequins.”
“Synthetic waitresses. I prefer the redhead versions. Some guys prefer their company to real women.”
“Why?”
“Everyone likes a fantasy.”
Multiple waiters bowed as they left, asking them to return soon.
After they stepped out of hearing proximity to the bar, Tiffany’s smile vanished. “Why’s he trying to blow my cover?”
“Excuse me?”
Tiffany glowered. “He didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
She shook her head. “I’m Kempeitai, undercover.” Kempeitai, or Kempei for short, were the Military Police arm of the Imperial Japanese Army. In the USJ, they mainly dealt with external and foreign threats, though, on occasion, their interests overlapped with the Tokko who dealt with internal issues. “They’re already suspicious you came by once. Now that you’ve taken me away, it’s over.”
“What’s over?” Akiko asked.
“The Americans. The rebels. You don’t know?”
“I haven’t been informed.”
She sighed angrily. “There’s a group of George Washingtons that escaped from San Diego. We’re trying to track them down.”
The general was in a storage room full of broken game booths and the artificial waiters they’d seen earlier, albeit wrapped in storage bags. He was making a call on his portical when Tiffany barged in. She bowed as mandated, then furiously demanded, “Where’s General Nakajima?”
“He’s been transferred to Singapore,” Wakana responded, after ending his portical call.
“Why?”
“Your mission is complete.”
“What do you mean? Do you see the game playing at every stall?” Tiffany demanded.
Wakana pushed one of the mechanical waitresses. “Your cover’s blown.”
“How is it blown?”
“Beniko’s apartment was destroyed by a bomb shortly after you went home with him. That’s why the Tokko is investigating you.”
“What?” she snapped. She stared at the general, taking a moment to register what he’d said. “Is-is he OK?”
“That’s beside the point.”
“You think I had something to do with it?”
“Even if not, you’re under suspicion and the only way to clear you is to reveal your true identity.”
“I want to see General Nakajima.”
“I know you and Nakajima had a special relationship. But that’s over.”
“Since when?”
Wakana stood up. “Since now. You are dismissed.”
“What about the Beiping mission?”
“Canceled. You’re dismissed,” he repeated.
“I’m not under your jurisdiction. I have my own mandates.”
“Right now, you are under my command and I have the orders to back them up.”
She hesitated, wanting to object, but knowing better than to do so. She bowed and left in a huff.
“Confused?” the general asked Akiko. Two aides entered. One did a strange ceremonial tea dance with a fan, making swan-like motions with his arms and legs. The other made wild gesticulations, seemingly shouting without vocals, a mime-act in military fatigues. The general took no notice of them.
“Yes, sir,” she said, not sure whether she should be more confused by the Kempei involvement or the strange behavior of the aides.
“Sometimes I am too. There are so many plots behind other plots and even more plots under those that they get entangled and no one knows who’s spying on who. In the end, I suspect no one even knows why the plots were perpetuated.”
“Are there American sympathizers here?”
“They are everywhere and I’ll send others to follow up on her leads,” the general replied. He unzipped the hanging bag of an artificial waiter and opened up a panel. “They’re failed models. Recreating human behavior isn’t as easy as our scientists would like to believe.”
“Why are they here?”
“The colonel in charge of the arcade is a collector who believes every piece of junk is an artifact. He even keeps the broken arcade machines from decades ago. Loves the fact that they’re ‘made in America.’” He opened up another bag with a ridiculously proportioned female waitress. “I find love traps distasteful. Did you know the Chinese included them in their military teachings?”
Akiko nodded. “It’s part of the old thirty-six stratagems.
Mei ren ji
, an act of desperation.”
“Their efficacy can be questioned. Stolen victories using deceit crumble at the first sign of adversity.” He felt the cheeks and neck of the female model. “It feels so real. Will they replace us with these artificial humans in the future?”
“I don’t know, sir.”
“I suppose robots will come with their own set of problems. Your theory checked out.”
“Sir?”
“About finding a hub. Contact Ben. He’s found it.”
“I’ll call him right now.”
“Do you think the perpetrator is still here?”
“Possibly. Gloating, reveling in their act.”
Wakana zipped the bag back up. “Did you know, in Mexico Unit 798 used to send in dogs covered with plague-infested fleas? They used to drop rats from planes into enemy camps, but dead rats weren’t very mobile. So instead, they poisoned the dogs and sent them into enemy camps. Once the dogs died, the fleas wouldn’t stay on a dead body and they’d infect all the enemies with a genetically modified form of bubonic plague. Our soldiers waited until their body parts started dropping off before we mopped them up.”
“I am familiar with the history of the Department of Epidemic Prevention and Water Purification in the west.”
“How do we find our sick dog?”
“We find out where they released the dogs.”
The general nodded. “Our enemies are hungry fleas, ready to ravage. Be careful not to get infected.”
4:21AM
Outside the hall, Tiffany waited anxiously.
“Is Ben alive?” she asked Akiko.
“Yes,” Akiko replied.
She sighed in relief. “If you find him–”
“He’s here.”
“Where?”
“On a task, but close by.”
“I had no ulterior motive, if you’re wondering.”
“I wasn’t. I am wondering how you, as a Kempeitai officer, didn’t notice anything suspicious.”
“Are you blaming me for what happened?”
Akiko remained silent.
“Why is Wakana in charge?” Tiffany asked.
“General Wakana is one of our most distinguished commanders.”
“I heard he pissed off a lot of people in the SD Uprisings. Made all sorts of unreasonable requests. I thought they’d banished him to Africa. These rebels are barbaric with no sense of culture. They must be the ones who set off the bombs. That game needs to be erased and its creators publicly executed,” Tiffany stated with conviction.
“I agree. Too bad your cover got blown,” Akiko said, not so much with sympathy as scorn.
Tiffany was annoyed by her comment, but thought better of refuting Akiko. “When you see Ben, tell him… tell him I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For lying about who I worked for.”
“Why should you apologize? That’s just part of your work.”
“I know we have to lie to those around us, but that doesn’t mean I’m comfortable deceiving those I care about.”
Tiffany did a short bow of respect and left.
4:52AM
Akiko met Ben a few miles away from the arcade in a flora store that specialized in bonsai plants and was shaped like a greenhouse. It was a quiet neighborhood, set against a Babylon of neon from the arcade that never shut down. Laminate lights were on inside and Akiko entered through the front door. There was nothing conspicuously out of place on initial examination, but she did notice that it didn’t smell like fertilizer. Not that all greenhouses smelled of dung, but the density of plants in the front seemed orchestrated to conceal rather than to showcase. Cacti, orchids, and fancy pottery blocked her path. She pushed them aside. Behind were rows and rows of porticals, wiring circuitously wrapped in thousands of directions like an electronic nervous system pumping information. Data streams were coursing through the building like digital sluices canalizing the paths. On the monitors, multiple variations of the
USA
game rapidly played out. Japanese soldiers were being shot by American ones fighting for their “independence.” There must have been at least a thousand porticals stacked on top of each other to form towers.
“This is where the rebels carried out their hijacking,” Ben replied, examining the porticals.
“The other arcades must have similar places,” Akiko assumed.
“I’ve informed the other sections and maybe they’ll catch someone, though I’m betting they’ve been abandoned. I’m looking here in case I can find something the big groups can’t.” Ben peered at Akiko. “The general tells me Tiffany is Kempeitai. Did you know?”
“I just found out.”
“Has she been cleared of suspicion?”
“For the time. Those rebels must have had some inside help.”
Ben shook his head. “You can’t trust anyone.”
“Not when the stakes are this high. She apologized to you.”
“For what?”
“For her deception,” Akiko replied.
“I know, ultimately, it doesn’t really mean anything. But I feel like I’ve been dating a complete stranger.”
“Everyone in the USJ is a stranger,” Akiko said.
“I guess you’re right. Ironic.”
“What?”
“You’re the only person I’m certain of, and you’re Tokko.”
“Don’t take it personally. I still haven’t told my mother I’m part of the Tokko.”
“Why not?”
She was surprised at having told Ben this fact. “Where were these porticals manufactured?” she asked, changing the topic.
He lifted one up. “Good question. They’re not made in Japan or China, that’s for sure. They’re shoddy, cheap material, no serial numbers to track. I’m thinking they’re made in the USJ and I’m pretty sure it’s in Anaheim in Portical Valley.”
She peered into the trashcans and saw they were full of smoked cigarettes and empty ramen cups that still reeked – they’d been here recently. Garbology officers could go through the trash and forensics would scan for fingerprints.
“Doesn’t the arcade have a security system?”
“A really good one,” Ben answered.
“How’d they crack it?”
“I said good, not great. It wouldn’t have been that hard for an experienced portical tech to break through. Let’s head to Anaheim.”
“Are they open? It’s 5:00am.”
“They never sleep. Looks like you could use some shut eye. Why don’t you let me drive?”
She was too tired to object.
5:32AM
Akiko was in a store that sold memories, a mishmash of tawdry emancipation bottled into faked vulnerability and fingernails from forgotten musicians grilled on kebabs of misplaced desire. If only she’d had better taste, she could have escaped the corpulence of discontent. But no, her belly swelled and her fingernails turned into claws as her nose gushed latex paint.
“Hey,” she heard, feeling ice chill her wrist.
“W-wh–”
“We’re almost there,” Ben said.
She looked at Ben and oriented herself. “Did I sleep?”
“Soundly,” he replied. “You were dreaming.”
She rubbed her eyes. “I’ll be happy when our medics find a way for the human body to go without sleep.”
“Dreaming is my favorite part of the day.”
“Some of our scientists are trying to find a way to record dreams to see what people are really thinking at the subconscious level.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes.”
“You can’t arrest someone based on their dreams.”
“Why not?”
“What if it gets misinterpreted?”
“We would have agents to curate them,” Akiko said. “Unfortunately, it won’t be available anytime, soon since their primary focus is on extracting memories from the dead.”
“How close are they?”
Akiko tried not to think about Jenna. “Still in the initial steps.”
“I guess the dead won’t be able to keep secrets anymore,” Ben noted.
They took a left into a road full of gigantic portical advertisements for new entertainment shows and gaming competitions.
“How much further?” Akiko asked.
“We’re arriving. The rules are looser here and they don’t like military. I hope I don’t offend if I suggest that you follow my lead.”
Akiko wasn’t familiar with Portical Valley, so she said, “That’s fine.”
“You OK?”
“Why would I not be?” Akiko asked.
“You look frazzled.”
“I’m tired.”
Ben held up an inhalant. “Need a shot of caffeine?”
“Later.”
Portical Valley was a strange intersection of technology and lewd ribaldry. There were cocoons of scintillating lights tightly choreographed into demo booths for new machines, grandiose monuments to marketing ascending high above them. It was a shopping center as big as a public square, a bazaar selling every type of portical and accessory imaginable. Built indoors, the ceiling was a sprawling display screen with advertisements of scantily clad actors and actresses. Promotional models abounded, the usual throng of tight T-shirts, bikinis, buff bared men wandering about with catchphrases and phony smiles packaged to appeal to repressed libidos. Porticals and sex made for a surprisingly agreeable liaison.
“Where are we going?” Akiko asked.
“This is just the surface. We’re visiting an old acquaintance of mine.”
Elephants, zebras, and monkeys ran rampant. Exotic birds flew from one empty ledge to another. The enormous leg of a broken mecha was on display, the remnants of a goliath that had once blasted Americans in San Diego. At the base, food stalls sold squash and basil that granted virility. Miniscule chilies promised to make a tongue burst after a taste and red shallots bled spices to make other parts implode. The lemon grass and kaffir limes contributed to the international canal of coconut juice flowing through the intestines of everyone passing through the valley. Many were engaged in community portical games at kiosks, shrugging off fatigue and frustration.
“Why are there so many animals?” Akiko inquired.
“Organic porticals built into the animal body are the new rage,” Ben answered. “Kind of like flesh phones, but with deeper connections. Check out those ostriches.”
There was a herd of them with copper plating on their bowl heads.
“For racing,” Ben said. “Increases hormonal activity and makes them easier to control.”
“They have a portical brain?”
“Half and half. Same for body.”
“Who controls it?”
“The portical intelligence system. Some creatures have direct interfacing with humans. I hear in Manchukuo, they have brutal cricket matches with human drivers. Leaves a lot of them crazy, living as a bug.”
“I suppose it makes a useful diversion for the masses.”
“I’ve never seen a cricket match, but the ostrich races are disturbing and violent. Some of those matches are to the death – those birds’ll do anything to win.”
“They take after their human masters,” Akiko noted dryly.
Many of the human masters had artificial parts and there were stores that promised updates to mechanical limbs in a matter of hours. These included tooled supplements that helped in jobs like janitorial work, plumbing, and construction by having replaceable equipment constructed into the arm. Also on sale were supplemental teeth to enhance taste, fashion nails with portical screens built in, and sensory augmentation to stimulate weaker nerves.
They entered a seafood store that reeked of dead fish. Swarthy cooks chopped up meat and peeled the fins off salmon cadavers. Boxes of discarded clam shells and fish bones were leaking viscous juices that drenched the floor with aquatic blood. Ben and Akiko walked into what appeared to be a storage room, but it led to another door that itself turned into a staircase. On an enclosure on the left wall, the upper half of a man turned to them on a steel swivel, his face covered by a fishnet. His head was shaved, though he had a fastidious square mustache. “How can I help you, officers?”
“I’d like to see Koushou,” Ben replied.
“Do you have an appointment?”
“You know we don’t.”
“Koushou is not in at the moment.”
“We can wait,” Ben said with a smile, before placing a rolled wad of
yen
into the man’s hand.
“Koushou will return shortly.”
“Probably by the time we reach his chambers.”
“Perhaps.”
They went down the long stairway, guided by violet radiation that gleamed temptation.
“What was that?” Akiko asked.
“That’s what you call greasing the modern eunuch.”
“He’s human?”
“Cut in half.”
“Nothing below?”
Ben shook his head.
“Does he just stay there forever?”
“Another eunuch replaces him when he needs to rest,” Ben explained. “They go in shifts.”
“Why do they do this?”
“The lack of a lower half ensures their loyalty. Important trait down here.”
“How does he eat?” she inquired.
“Injections of proteins and other nutrients to keep him alive.”
“That’s barbaric.”
“He lives a very comfortable life as gatekeeper,” Ben said.
“With bribes?”
“Toll fees.”
“How much did you give him?” she asked, crossing her arms.
“Don’t ask,” Ben said, and brushed some lint off his jacket.
“Isn’t he in pain?”
“Regenerative gels make him feel like he’s in heaven, and he’s wealthier than you and I can even imagine.”
“There are things more valuable than money.”
“Not down here.”
They walked into a lobby that was dense with smoke. The tangent chamber organized itself into blocks of alcohol dispensers and naked waiters serving patrons. Some of the glass walls had shaded tints where human action was visible in silhouette, naked couples frolicking with animals. A woman was passionately kissing a muscular man who had a plastic face – one of those artificial males – and her perfume assailed them with its scent. Each vice smelled distinctively lurid: drugs, cigarettes, kinky sex, alcohol, that revolting effusion of dank obsession stirred together by the helplessness of addiction and frailty.
“Why isn’t my portical working?” Akiko asked.
“Outside connections are disrupted.”
“Why?”
“Koushou’s orders. Only internal connections work and we don’t have access. He’s pretty much king down here,” Ben said.
“King?” she asked, offended by the encroachment on royalty.
“He’s developed a taste for cruelty.”
“How do you know him?” Akiko asked.
“San Diego.”
“He served?”
“With distinction. We get what we need and we’ll be on our way. Even if you might not like it, let him rule his little empire down here.”
“I’m not sure what that means.”
They entered a hallway with a convex ceiling, white walls, shallow reflecting pool, and statues of grotesque animals. It resembled a temple with its axial alignments and lilies floating serenely in the water. She was about to comment on the architecture when she noticed something strange. The statues looked real and one of the nude women blinked. It took a few seconds to realize that all the statues were actual people, bound by metallic strips, some with bars perforating their body, wires intertwined with veins and muscles. An emaciated male had a metallic nail sticking out at every junction point in his bones, a tattoo of a black line linking them in a constellation of affliction. A woman’s skin was split up like patchworks, part metal, part flesh, hundreds of squares breaking up her body into a checkerboard. Another was bent backwards, the spine arcing in an impossible three hundred and sixty degree curl, the face held immobile by a larynx substitute and thousands of needles. They were sculptures celebrating the prosthetics of human profligacy. There was an altar at the other end and several columns that led to a corridor. Next to the altar was a tall giraffe with the face of a human and a dog with the body of a man. A woman had the wings and legs of a flamingo. They were hybrid people and the worst part was that, even though their bodies were immobile, their eyes were restlessly skipping.
Meditating at the head of the pond was a plain-looking man who was neither ugly, nor especially handsome, an Asian face that would have disappeared in a sea of strangers. His haircut had no discernible fashion aside from being somewhat combed so that it didn’t rise haphazardly. He wore a blue robe, had a neutral expression, and revealed shriveled yellow teeth with huge gaps between them, the stalactites of an inscrutable appetite.
“Have you heard the theory that the mythological Noah’s Ark was actually the very first natural history museum?” he asked. Even his voice was plain.
“I have not,” Akiko answered, after she saw Ben dipping his hand in the pool, ignoring the question.
“Some fanatics theorize humans are just organic machines created not so long ago with a self-sustaining system.”
“That runs counter to our knowledge that the Emperor is god,” Akiko replied.
“Like I said, fanatics. I’ve always been curious. Was Noah a glorified weatherman who knew when to call his animals back in?”
“Noah is part of a silly superstition the Americans clung to.”
“Every ancient culture in the world had a flood myth.”
“Except Japan.”
“Why is that?” the man inquired.
“Because Japan was the highest point in all the world.”
“We were the first to develop pottery and live in accordance with all kami until the westerners disrupted our ennui.”
“Look, Koushou. I’m not here for a history lesson. We’ve found some porticals that–”
“I know why you’re here. Ishimura messaged me the specs.”
Koushou stepped into the pool, not concerned that his robe was getting wet. He approached a man who was hanging upside down and took a dagger-shaped device off his neck. The bottom tip was pointed and he pushed a button at its base. The man started weeping.
“Why is he crying?” Akiko asked.
Koushou cackled. “He’s so aroused right now, it’s driving him crazy.”
“Aroused?”
“Look at his pants.”
She saw the bulge.
“I can control every hormone in his body,” Koushou boasted. “I can make him so hungry, he’ll want to rip out your neck with his jaws, or bawl his eyes out because he’s depressed about a stupid comment he made to someone insignificant fourteen years ago.”
“Where’d you get that?”
“Same place where I got most of my tech – the army,” he explained. “We had a lot of fun with these in San Diego, didn’t we, Ben? You never had the stomach for this kind of thing with your porticals and numbers.” Akiko looked back at Ben, who was still concentrating on the water. She tried to get his attention, but Koushou said, “I pamper them for the most part.”
“Who are they?”
“My pets. The ones who’ve betrayed me or tried to steal from me. Or ones who just suited my fancy. They all deserved death. I gave them this alternative. They are contractually bound to me. The only art worth contemplating is live art. They change every day, force you to countenance possibilities about human nature that would otherwise be impossible to comprehend.”
“What have you learned?” she asked, dubious.
“That a universe exists within every human being. That to the blood cells and organs in your body, you are god. That this universe is only one individual among infinite others.”
“You think the universe is a living being?”
“One among billions that will eventually die. We fight for the scraps. Did you know the Japanese government wondered after the war if they should outlaw Christianity?” Koushou asked.
“I did.”
“Then you know why they eventually didn’t.”
“No one follows a defeated God,” Akiko answered.
“Because Gods get replaced all the time.”
“The only thing I’m interested in right now is who bought those porticals.”
“I know what you’re interested in,” Koushou said. “What can you offer me in exchange?”
“How about your life?” Akiko asked, gripping the viral gun in her belt.
“I’m inoculated to your viruses. You’ll need to do better,” he said.
“This is a new weapon devel–”
“I was trained at the 9th Army Technical Research Laboratory. I’ve worked on the latest death rays, fire balloons, humanoid mechas, submersibles with fighter jets, atomic torpedoes the size of a pen, and diseases beyond your imagination. If all you have are petty threats, get out of here.”
She knew the 9th Lab was one of the most secret facilities in the Empire. Seeing the technology he had access to, she believed him.
“What do you want?”
“How badly do you want this information?” he continued.
“It’s a matter of Imperial security.”
