C&C desperately requested.
WARNING/DISCLAIMER:
This type of prose is definitely not for everybody. I've recently read
Ulysses by James Joyce and I think it affected the direction of this fic.
THANKS!
The only way I can describe the process of having a fanfic pre-read is like
taking the Hindenburg through a field of antiaircraft batteries all firing
at you with incendiary rounds. My thanks to my pre-readers for their
patience, kind remarks and their goddamn ability to shoot this puppy down
every five minutes. Shit!
==========
"Thin-de le'hsaun 'aloun'myin-de/bpi-de gka-de hsou-depaya."
--- Ancient yautja proverb.
(Learn the gift of all sights or finish in the dance of fallen gods.)
--- English translation.
==========
The Imperial Household of Japan has, since 200 B.C., been the symbol of
the national identity of Japan. Even during the era of the Tokugawa
Shogunate and then the rejection of the Emperor's Divinity in 1945, the
Emperor, first as absolute ruler then as a constitutional figurehead, has
always meant stability and an anchor to centuries of tradition in the face
of the modern world. The Second Great Kanto Earthquake of 2025 destroyed
that myth of stability with the death of most of the Imperial Family as well
as everyone in direct line of succession. Without an heir to the throne and
the last Yamato clan Emperor of the Jimmu Tenno line unable to bear any more
children, the people of Japan turned to a new figure of power. GENOM.
The Reconstruction efforts further underlined the idea of GENOM both as
saviour to the people of post-Holocaust Japan and as the new spiritual
figurehead of the Republic. The subsequent manoeuvres of GENOM to control
the Diet cast the already diminished role of the Emperor into further
disregard. The rationale behind this was to situate in the subconscious of
the nation, the idea that the Japanese identity would be led by a greater
figurehead. When the Diet Resolution 1020 was forwarded, officially
abolishing the title of Emperor and replacing it with a more 'modern' post
of President, the Emperor did nothing to protest this. By refusing to even
put up a token defence for the traditions and ceremony that had kept Japan
unique among the other peoples of Asia, the Office of the Imperial Household
resigned from the Palace Duties in disgust. Thus began the May 4 Mutiny.
On the fourth of May 2026, the Grand Chamberlain of the Imperial
Household and several Imperial Stewards and Minor Nobles in the Self Defence
Forces stormed the National Building, taking the entire Diet hostage. The
Prime Minister and other Members of Parliament who had pushed forth
Resolution 1020 was beheaded live on NHK with the Sword of Jimmu Tenno, the
symbol of the Emperor's divinity. The siege lasted for three months until
the National Building was recovered by a contingent of the Japanese Ground
Self Defence Forces equipped with the best of GENOM weapons technology.
The siege began at 07.59H right before the daily speech given by the
Grand Chamberlain to the Japanese people. The terrorists fought to the death
for six long and terrible hours, singing songs old samurai glory, to protect
the Grand Chamberlain and cover his escape. His unsaid speech was found
littered on the floor of the Assembly. It reads as follows:
"This nation was founded by Kami and lives only at their behest and
blessings. Thus, do the Children of Nihon live. By disavowing this sacred
bond between our world and theirs, we anger them and risk our own karma.
GENOM seeks to become a new religion among the young, with their power, and
wealth, and other seductive temptations.
"When Emperor Showa rejected his own divinity in 1945, the Empire of
Nihon crumbled into a soulless materialistic society, more concerned with
hedonism and self-gratification. Now this Emperor has chosen to give up his
birthright. The birthright handed down from Amaterasu Omikami to Jimmu Tenno
and his children. The Office of the Imperial Household will not and cannot
stand for another further destruction to the nation and traditions we so
dearly love.
"We shall honour his wishes and turn our backs to him. GENOM proclaims
that by doing so, that we are hypocrites, and that we dishonour the very
traditions we espouse to protect! This is not true. The Imperial Household
never placed their loyalty to the person of any one Emperor. We, as in the
past and always, have devoted our lives and honour, and loyalty to the
throne of Japan and symbols of Divinity.
"From this point on, there is no Emperor. The noble line of Jimmu Tenno
is ended! The Yamato clan is dust beneath our feet! As the People of Japan
have turned their face away from tradition and the Kami, the Kami and their
blessings turn away from you! Nihon shall lie dead, until one chosen by the
Kami shall come, bearing the Sword of Jimmu Tenno and the lost Mirror and
Jewel of Amaterasu Omikami.
In the end, the Reconstructed Diet unanimously rejected Resolution 1020
and the Emperor kept his position. But somehow, the prestige that once
sustained that post, even through the furore surrounding the Dissolution of
that post, was gone. As if the Divine Mandate of Heaven had been finally
stripped. Regardless, GENOM moved to the forefront of society. The Grand
Chamberlain made well his escape and vanished with the Sword of Jimmu Tenno.
To this day, we know nothing of the whereabouts of the Grand Chamberlain. As
is the tradition, all Members of the Office of the Imperial Household have
no record as to their identities or names. The Sword of Jimmu Tenno comes
back several years later in the hands of the Shogun.
CHAPTER 27. The Reconstruction of Japan, the Dissolution of Tradition, and
the Return to Empire.
---Junior High School History Textbook, c. 3072
==========
"All nations need something, some person or symbol, to which they can
cleave; which can give a disparate mass of people a sense of identity and
thus of unity. And when times are bad, that can unite them across barriers
of language and clan. GENOM has built itself into that national symbol, that
icon. No one will go against them in favour of vacuum. There must be an
alternative icon."
---Apocryphal quote from a former janitor from GENOM.
==========
YESTERDAY'S TOMORROW
The NERV Control Room descended into chaos as the Intruder made itself
felt inside the Box.
"Analysis of pattern: blue," Ritsuko muttered in shock, "It's an Angel,
no question."
"An Angel? You let an Angel get inside?" Sub Commander Fuyutsuki gasped.
"Sorry, sir."
"No excuse needed. Close the Central Dogma. Separate it from Sigma
Unit."
"Central Dogma, closed down physically," an Operator intoned as warning
klaxons sounded, "Separating it from Sigma Unit."
What had begun as a routine harmonics test had quickly become a
full-scale... well, how does one say 'cluster-fuck' politely? The Angel had
hitched a ride into the Geo Front by hiding inside a set of replacement
valves in the Pribnow Box. Within the presence of the pilots, it began to
corrode away the 87th protein wall and started to use the converted matter
as a building source to propagate itself at an alarming rate. At this point,
the primary task would be to retrieve the pilots and operators from the
infected corridor.
"Abandon this Box," Misato screamed, "Evacuate!"
Something about this attack did not smell quite right to Commander Ikari.
This was not what he had expected the Eleventh Angel to do. He was sure of
this. He had studied the documents too thoroughly the last fifteen years to
have made a mistake like this. For some odd three or four seconds, he
dismissed a stray possibility that the Angel had been modified somehow...
"Stop the alert."
Aoba stared at his Commanding Officer in surprise, but swallowed his
shock and complied. "S-- stopping the alert, sir."
"It was a mistake, the Commander intoned in precise syllables, "An error
in the detector. Tell the Japanese government and the Committee so."
"Y-- yes, sir."
**********
YESTERDAY'S TOMORROW
Commander Ikari lay awake that evening, staring at the ceiling of his
spartan bedroom. His thoughts ran through the day's incident. This afternoon
's battle may not have been fought in the streets of Tokyo-3, but the war
was just as vicious, he mused. The nanites began their assault on the MAGI
by evolving into a colony of complex organisms capable of jumping from the
heavy water container into the computer's Security Mainbanks. They had then
breached the clearance passwords and proceeded to invade Melchior and
reprogram it. Balthazar was the next to fall. The final target was the full
access of the Geo Front itself.
Fortunately, the nanites had been delayed by Ritsuko's idea to randomise
the login passwords,. She then attempted to purge the system by reloading
the source code and succeeded, barely missing the target deadline. All in
all, today was not something Commander Ikari would like to experience again.
The phone rang.
<DORURURU>
"Commander Ikari, sir?" the voice began stoutly began, "You asked me to
telephone you if we turned up any more anomalies?"
Commander Ikari simply grunted his assent for the caller to continue.
Even without face to face contact, the caller recognized the authority the
voice on the other end seemed to radiate.
"Sir, there has been an intrusion in the JGSDF Kansai Armoury. Seven N-2
nosecones appear to have been appropriated BY PERSONS UNKNOWN."
**********
TODAY'S TOMORROW
2033 was definitely a bad year. According to urban legend, some idiot had
left a DD Battlemover running while out to get some coffee and nearly caused
a nuclear meltdown in the heart of the city. Then there was that rumour of a
"mad scientist" breeding boomers out in Tinsel City. 2034 was even worse
then the year past. The Boomer Revolution had left most of the city ruins
from the rampage and people were still coming to grip with the devastation.
2035 wasn't that good for Mega-Tokyo either. The Ministry of Health and
Public Welfare had once again raised the grades on the city's pollution
indexes, thus presenting the inhabitants with the illusion that all was well
for your lungs. The Aqua City reclamation project had been obliterated by
orbital bombardment. Urban legends of the oddest kind seemed to spread by
word of mouth through the pubs and bin fires... there was a demon-possessed
car that roamed Highway 4 searching for kills... someone on the SDPC's
Genaros orbital facility was breeding a race of half-human boomer hybrids
who wanted to exterminate the human race... and top it all, vampires have
been spotted leaving a grisly trail of death across the city. All idiocy
really, but better than the story of the serial killer had stalked the
Paradise loop leaving a number of whores mutilated and disfigured. All in
all, another day under flag of the GENOM Corporation, Ltd.
On the upside, several of the gangs that staked out portions of the city
as private fire zones were seriously depleted in strength. Perhaps things
would look better in the New Year for everyone involved... Then somewhere in
the Kanto fault line, reality once again began to twist upon itself in a
most disturbing manner. From the skies above, came a shaft of light, a
bright yellow in colour and slower in its descent than light ought to be.
Several deep-space probes and geo-synchronous spy satellites went
immediately on red alert and their corresponding ground crews collectively
wet their pants. Where the column of solid light began, none of the orbital
satellites would ever know because just as it began without warning, the
light abruptly faded out of existence.
A figure shimmered half in and half out of the visible spectrum as it
hauled itself out of the small impact crater where the reality bolt
impacted. the figure gazed in confusion at its surroundings then triggered
its tarei'hsan loop.
"NOTE: Next time, don't ever leave the damn planet! It hurts too much
getting home... Itte...."
Then he suddenly realized that the gravity around him was still near zero
when several soda cans and chips of concrete hung in the air around him,
taking their sweet time to fall. This was bad. That meant that the reality
bolt he was riding was still in effect. That meant...
"oooOOOh SHIiIIT..."
Then the secondary reality bolt dropped down and engulfed him.
**********
ANTISOCIAL PRESS PRESENTS:
A JANITOR'S GUIDE TO TAKING OUT BIG BROTHER'S BUMA
CHAPTER HAZ: SOMETHING'S COMING TO TOWN AND IT SURE AIN'T SANTA CLAUS
Written by Khyron the Backstabber
**********
The impact crater itself was negligent, a mere four and three quarter
feet in diameter, but the correlative shockwave had spread out gutting
everything within a mile and a half from ground zero and shattering
reinforced glass for another mile or so. Not quite a nuclear explosion, but
almost just as devastating. The fires from ruptured gas lines and downed
power cables had spread out like a blanket between Districts fourteen and
six. With the help of the Japanese Air and Ground Self Defence Forces, the
Emergency Rescue Units struggled desperately to put out the inferno. It
would be a losing battle, and in the end, the only way Mega-Tokyo was saved
was by triggering the orbital satellites to gouge out wide firebreaks along
the circumference of the blast. In this, another thirty blocks were
destroyed and the parliament screamed at the damage total when the last
embers were put out nine days later: 84 trillion credits in property damage,
138,000 dead and scores more injured. The hospitals were filled to
overflowing with people either injured from the shockwave or with
respiratory problems from the smaze.
(AN: Smaze or smog/haze is what the Asian press described the smoke and soot
that spread out from the burning of Indonesia last year. It managed to reach
southern China and Papua New Guinea.)
The National Government had ceased to have any real powers with the
advent of the mega-corporations. Aside from the obligatory knee-jerk
reactions to public outcries and natural disasters, the elected leaders of
the Japanese people had long abandoned their rights to govern, instead
trading their sense of duty and self-respect for puppet strings and rubber
stamps. The oligarchies themselves cared little for anything except for what
could prop up their tottering bellies. Anything else was a waste of time.
Except for last night's disaster.
The devastation of what was now being termed the "Wormwood Meteorite,"
had actually raised such a public outcry and a drain on the already empty
national coffers that the puppets had no choice but to beg their masters for
aid. And GENOM, as the ultimate puppet master, had already learned, no
matter who or how much they controlled, it was always the public perception
that mattered; the one factor that they could never fully shape or direct.
With the nation screaming at its leaders, GENOM had no real choice but to
pony up or risk losing their already ludicrous hold on the sham that was
society in 2034. The loss of revenue actually managed to cut into two
percent of the company's net profits for the early quarter of the Japanese
fiscal year. GENOM was not happy. But neither was it stupid. Within
twenty-four hours, the company had already wrangled enough concessions out
of the rubber-stamp Diet that it would control and oversee over ninety-two
percent of the reconstruction. Though not as great as the Second Great Kanto
Earthquake, it was another chance to gain a tighter stranglehold on the
population of Mega-Tokyo. And that in it self was priceless...
**********
On a high point somewhere far from the devastation line, the Visitor
looked out across the damage his arrival into this world caused. The young
man was dressed in an outlandish outfit made out of dlex, rhynth hide, net
mesh, and pieces of what appeared to be bronze armour plating inlaid with
unrecognisable squiggles. His US-issue BDU trousers had long lost their
Urban Tiger pattern in the grime and were now one large stain. The cricket
shin pads and Converse high cuts he wore were not quite in the best of shape
either. A jury-rigged cloak made out of discarded military-grade tarpaulin
completed the greasy ensemble. All of this was charred and a haze of ozone
seemed to permeate the area in which he stood.
"Hah. What a bunch of pussies. Those riots back in Seattle were more
exciting... Oh well, at least I teleported out of that inferno when I...
hey! How the hell did I get this far?"
The Visitor was puzzled. When the secondary bolt started to drop, sheer
panic had already shifted his reflexes into the teleportation kata. An
experimental martial art inroad the People's Liberation Army were working on
in he 1960's for use in the field. His frenzied motions held true and
reality had parted for him once again. But this time, something was afoot.
Instead of the ten- to fourteen-foot displacement he was used to, the
Visitor found himself several miles away from his original position. It had
taken him over three hours to recover, his lungs pitching up bile and blood.
This was true magic, bought and paid for in the user's flesh... and he
hated it. But the instinct in him to survive was greater than his instict to
shy away from pain. The reality bolt he had just travelled was another big
shock. It usually left a crater about four feet in diameter and him crawling
out. All this devastation and suffering that lay before the Visitor like a
gash of grim fire laying ruin to to flesh and stone was...
"...not my damn fault! Ah, hell. I'll figure it out later. Right now I
just want to sit down."
His migraine was kicking in and he knew that it would be a long time
before the coppery taste of blood in his mouth would disappear.
"Unless..."
Dangling his feet over the ledge, the Visitor reached for the battered
LC-1 Alice pack and began to rummage through the assorted odds and ends he
had picked up over the years. Out came a 50-round drum magazine half-filled
with 7,92x57mm SmK(H) for his Maschinengewehr-34... the Ehrgeiz module
(which he STILL had no idea what to do with)... a well-worn pocketbook
called Catcher in the Rye... a much more well-worn pocketbook called The
Handbook for Volunteers of the Islamic Irish Republican Army: Notes of
Guerrilla Warfare... two EXTREMELY worn copies of the May 1998 issue of
JOMAG and the June 1999 issue of OKAY!... a spare 'Bad Religion' T-shirt in
a waterproof sachet... a set of watercolours from Windsor & Newton... and
his stuffed bunny 'Jen-Jen.' A look of incredible happiness flew across his
grimy features as he pulled out an off-white steel canister about a foot
long and half a foot in diameter. The canister was a portable DNA
refrigerator he had come across in some unimportant bush war several
realities ago. This particular item bore the words 'Level 6 Biohazard' in
black and yellow stencil.
The Visitor checked the twist-lock and nodded when the seal appeared to
be unbroken. The battery charge was another matter. As it had not been built
for long-term storage the primary and secondary charges were depleted to
point that the Visitor judged the contents wouldn't last another day.
"Oh well. Since I've kept this baby in deep freeze this long, I doubt it'
ll keep anymore. Might as well open it up."
The canister was protected with a variety of redundant pressure seals.
And the Visitor's fingers struggled to trigger the depressurisation
switches. All that was left now, was for him to break the airtight gasket
and open the final lock. He did just that.
"Here's to coming back to this godforsaken hellhole of a country," The
Visitor mumbled as he bit into the last of his candy bars.
"The last in my inventory... Now why the hell did Hershey's have to
tamper with something as perfect as the Bar None? I hope this place has some
bars with the original recipe and not the ones where they added caramel..."
In the air, the fast pace of a drum track and a male voice singing about
"the end of the world as we know it" arose from his tinny first-generation
Walkman. Life, for a brief instant, seemed so perfect.
==========
"You know you've been in Mega-Tokyo too long when you see another gaijin
get on the monorail and you go 'Wow! It's a gaijin!'"
---"Seven Days to Empire," Quotes from the Shogun.
Houghton Mifflin Books. c. 2098
==========
War Journal Entry 92021-01
No matter what reality I wind up in, it's the rooftops I find myself
being drawn to. There's this feeling you get when you stand atop the high
ground and look at all the normals going about their everyday lives. It's
peaceful here and the unfettered wind carries off most of the pollution. Not
like that bottleneck down there... You'd be lucky if you saw...? What the
hell is that over there? Looks like some idiot city planner decided to cut a
large gash right across the city and out into the bay... Maybe the Commies
have taken over here and you got an East and West Tokyo? Better check it out
before I get shot for border crossing. I wish I had my binoculars with me.
I'm telling ya, this country gets weirder and weirder. I guess that any
society with an inherent lack of SPAM in the ordinary neighbourhood grocery
store is a society built on abomination. Not like the West is any better.
Their refusal to eat lunch out of little boxes bugs me as well. I've been
toying around with a few ideas for reconstruction after the War. It'll have
to be big and encompass everything... and I mean EVERYTHING. I remember Dad
telling me that it takes at least five years of peace to undo the scars of a
year of war. That means at least fifteen years under somebody's guns when
the shooting stops. I hope whoever he is does a better job than last time we
had a war.
>sigh.< I wonder where the hell I am? I don't recognize this place any. I
know I'm still in Japan. The katakana and hiragana on the electronic
billboards are a dead giveaway, but I've never seen a skyline like this
before. Maybe it's just me, but all these buildings seem to be double their
normal heights. And I'm sure I would have noticed that huge truncated cone
over there. I may be apathetic, bit I'm not ignorant. Oh well, standard
procedure... a three-block radius info-recon patrol. Maybe I'll figure out
why this place looks like a Tim Burton movie.
NOTE: Better find a public bath and find a way to get rid of these
ridiculous tresses. They may have helped me blend in with the yautja, but
the way they're all matted up, I know I'll have to end up getting them cut.
Just another permanent reminder... Next time a bunch of Extraterrestrial
Biological Entities decide to offer you a hitchhike, just say no.
END MESSAGE.
---------------
His journal entry and candy both done, the Visitor packed his gear up and
slung the army rucksack over his shoulder. The heavy facemask went on his
face and a cool stream of filtered air channelled through the intakes. He
then activated his shiftsuit and vanished from sight.
**********
"Of course I'm a god! Duh?!"
---"Seven Days to Empire," Quotes from the Shogun.
Houghton Mifflin Books. c. 2098
==========
With the devastating regional conflicts and brush wars of the last
half-century, the United Nations found itself not the cooperative for global
unification as it intended to be, but rather an impotent police force sent
to facilitate dictators and pacify the repressed. Furthering this
self-realization was the whimpering death throes of the concept of the
nation-state in the face of the new barrier-less corporate world.
Coupled with insurmountable debts the organization accumulated for the
policing of an apathetic world, the idealistic charter of 1946 began to bog
down near the end of the Millennium. A sharp contrast to the rise in the
fortunes of the multinational firms of the 80's and 90's. It seemed that the
United Nations would soon wither away along with the nationalist sentiments
that heralded the beginning of the century. An altogether inauspicious end.
Until someone had a bright idea in 2015... the carrot and stick approach
to universal peace. Offer the multinationals the guarantee of stable
economies and prospects in whatever part of the globe they wished to do
business in, in exchange for a dip in the industrial trough. All in all, a
very good deal leaving all concerned with more than a bit of pocket money on
the side.
But naturally, as the originators, the United Nations got the lion's
share of the arrangement. Governments that didn't toe the UN line found
themselves facing either well teethed UN militia in blue and white combat
smocks or a host of contending 'governments-in-waiting,' covertly financed
of course, by a small economics club in Geneva called the World Trade
Organisation. And for those multinationals who, God forbid, forgot to pay
the Piper, government contracts shut down and lucrative operations denied.
Peace followed for the small-minded.
The bubble began to blow.
By 2019, the multinationals began to chafe against the UN impositions and
a number decided to fight back and wrest control of the economies. Of
particular note, was a cagey entrepreneur and corporate raider of
Israeli-German descent, named Quincey Rosenkreutz. His shot over the UN bow
came in April of that year, when he terminated his company's contract with
the Algerian government to supply them with semiconductors at fixed prices.
The UN retaliated by manipulating the Algerian government into charging
GENOM with unethical business practices and labour conditions sending the
company stock into a nosedive. The domestic board of directors would be
expelled and all assets on Algerian soil nationalised. But the Algerian
government (and subsequently the United Nations) didn't expect what came
next. By early June, an army composed of the French-Christian populace took
control of the capital in a vicious fortnight war against the National
Liberation Front. The surrounding provinces capitulated and fell to the new
secular government.
Many suspect that Quincey had bankrolled the revolution and the salaries
of the Dutch and South African mercenary companies that had provided
technical aid during the war, but these speculations were never to see light
of day as the new government gave the Algerian GENOM facilities a clean bill
of health, and the death penalty to their accusers. The corporate world
suddenly had become a more interesting place to be.
(Oh, shit. I shouldn't have revealed this... um, please delete the last
six paragraphs from your hard drive.)
**********
[Well? Comments or the like are welcome. This story keeps getting longer and
longer and I'm still on Chapter 1. It ain't finished, but I might as well
post the few bits that work. Anyone have any ideas how to proceed?]