Modu annyoung haseyo (Peace be with you, everyone),
Anyhow, here's a VERY rough first draft of my next
"Illusions" story. I'll try to write and post
successive chapters as I whip them up. C&C most
definitely welcome, flames subject to the 'DELETE'
button as always.
Enjoy!
Annyoung'i kyeshipshio (Stay in peace),
=====
Fred Herriotfherriot@yahoo.com**** **** ****"Fanfiction IS Real Life!"**** **** ****
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Kyoto, Kamigyou-ku (Kamigyou Ward), 12 December 2030, noon...
"They're both so beautiful..."
Rei Ijuuin feels her eyes sting as she gazes on the preserved images memorializing a more innocent time for Noriji and Seika Matsuura. Both in their sixties, the Genom Construction group supervisor (Noriji just retired this year) and his wife had been living in Tokyo with their daughters Kurumi and Yui when Mother Nature came calling five years ago. Now all the couple had of their children were what personal items had been salvaged from their home...and the memories. "Hai, Ijuuin-hakase, they certainly were that," Seika places a cup of sencha before their guest.
"I truly grieve for your loss, Mrs. Matsuura," Rei closes the photo album, then sets it aside before gazing on her hosts. "For them to pass on when they were so young..." she shakes her head.
"Many have had to come to terms with something like that since the quake, Ijuuin-hakase," Noriji sagely comments, then shudders as he tries not to break down. Even five years later, it was SO hard. How successful those nameless others were in dealing with the loss of their children, he didn't know. In part, he NEVER wanted to know the answer to that. How would he compare? "There are days, so many of them...my wife and I pray to the gods, wish...that we could find some way to exchange ourselves with Kurumi and Yui..."
He says no more. Nothing more needs to be said about that. "Hai, Matsuura-san, wakarimashita (I understand)," Rei nods, then sighs. Time to bring out the sales pitch. "Tell me...both of you have heard of the FABS (Free Artificial-Born Sentient) debate now going on in Canada, have you not? My company's drive to recognize those boomers and androids who've achieved some self-awareness as beings no different than normal people such as we?"
The Matsuuras exchange a look, then nod. "Hai, we have. I must confess, it's an odd idea to press onto people given what we've heard goes on in Tokyo these days," Noriji muses.
"Even here in Kyoto," Seika adds.
"Hai, true," Rei nods. "But given the numbers of boomers and androids worldwide, those involved in rampages or the like are statistically quite...small in comparison. The reason I asked is that...as part of my duties as Bekkankachou (Annex Matriarch) down in Uji is...to progress inducted sentient research as far as I can. We in Toratotaka are as keen to see such steps taken as your former co-workers in Genom. Also, I wish to...help those like yourselves who lost everything which truly mattered to you five years ago."
"In what way?" Noriji wonders.
"Well..." Rei smiles, reaching forth with her pheromones to ensure her hosts didn't react negatively to this question. "How would both of you...like to see Kurumi and Yui alive again?"
Silence.
"I assume...you've invented a time machine," Seika chuckles.
Rei blinks, then politely covers her mouth. "Not quite, I'm afraid," she impishly grins, her eyes sparkling. "But both of you certainly know the old saying, 'As long as we remember someone, he or she never truly dies.' Well...I wish to help both of you use that...and take it a step further. To let your memories of Kurumi and Yui...bring forth new life...and give you a new future."
Noriji and Seika blink, then exchange a look. Rei remains silent. The couple before her had been married long enough to be able to communicate without speech. She had them intrigued. Now it was time to lay out the bait and see if they would bite. "Are you proposing..." Noriji turns to his guest, "...to create...boomer replicas of Kurumi and Yui, Ijuuin-hakase?"
"Hai, that is exactly what I'm proposing but I assure you that what I'll create...is worlds beyond what you could possibly acquire if you had a friend in Genom's R&D branch and asked for a replica based on the GS or FS designs." A pause, then, "As you both know, I helped my boyfriend Yoshio Saotome create the Bu-33S model over the last twelve months at Genom's Special Project lab in Megatokyo. Of course, knowing that, you'll also know what happened concerning many of them and what was discovered concerning their hearts."
"That was never intentional?" Noriji asks. He had friends in Genom's Osaka Tower who had been contemplating acquiring a Sexaroid companion, but now couldn't thanks to the project's cancellation.
"Hai. It was deliberate sabotage on the parts of scientists who disagreed with the theories behind what Yoshio created," Rei nods. "However, I'm glad to say the 33-S design does not belong to Genom. Yoshio owns all the necessary copyrights to allow us to continue our work within Toratotaka. We both intend to do so. My project, the Child Companion Project as I term it, I believe will turn out the type of 33-S that Yoshio intended in the first place."
"And you wish us to help in this regard?" Seika asks.
"Hai, for your benefit, of course," Rei nods. "Please forgive me for bringing up some very painful facts, but you qualify to be a benefactor of the CC Project. You lost your children in the 2025 quake. Through various factors, you presently also have no brothers or sisters, thus, there are also no nephews or nieces to carry forth your family line. You could consider adopting an orphan, but the government prefers potential foster parents to be younger than both of you...and I'm sure both of you don't wish to relive certain parts of a child's upbringing."
"Not really," Seika demurely smiles, then stares at Noriji.
He blinks, sensing her look, then glances at the closed photo album beside Rei. Taking a deep breath, he gazes at the Kyoto annex matriarch. "Please tell us more, Ijuuin-hakase."
Rei nods...
* * *
"Illusions - For The Love of a Child"
a fanfic of the Bubblegum Crisis - Megatokyo 2030-2032
by Fred Herriot
fherriot@yahoo.com
**** **** ****
Edited by E.B. Kushnir <kush1@iaw.on.ca>
C&C by
**** **** ****
Based on situations from "Bubblegum Crisis," created by ARTMIC and Youmex; "Urusei Yatsura," created by Rumiko Takahashi; "Tokimeki Memorial," created by Konami; "Sister Princess: Onii-chan Daisuki" and "Seraphim Call," created by Mediaworks; the "Little Lovers" series, created by NTT Shuppan; "Kita-e. White Illumination," created by Hudson Soft; and "Wish Tale," created by Videosystem.
**** **** ****
This story is also based on my UY fanfic series "The Senior Year" (co-created by Mike Smith) and "The Ishinomaki Years," as well as the BGC fanfic series "No Armour Against Fate" by Shawn Hagen
**** **** ****
PROLOGUE - PAINFUL MEMORIES, BLISSFUL DREAMS
Uji, the Kyoto Toratotaka Annex, 2 January 2031, morning...
"THE GIRL IS BACK!!!! WHERE ARE YOU, ONEE-CHAN?!?!"
Rei jolts, then glances over her shoulder as a diminutive blonde dynamo of energy storms in. The Annex Matriarch doesn't react on seeing Mei now sheathed in a Cyber-Nurse's white jumpsuit, "001" on her left breast, the blue trim and boots indicative of her being a boomeroid MT series urban trauma rescue nurse. *'Doctor,'* Rei amends. Mei was returning from completing residency for both her MD and DC (Doctorate of Chiropractic medicine) at Choun-bal Youja Taehakkyo-byoungwon (Choun-bal Women's University Hospital).
"Okaeri ne (Welcome back), Mei-chan," Rei waves her sister inside, then turns back to her computer screen, tapping controls. "How was your time in Sunch'oun?"
"The kimch'i was hot, the pulgogi (marinated beef) buttery, the naengmyoun (buckwheat noodle soup) icy cold and the soju (Korean whiskey) quite plentiful," Mei smirks, then stares over Rei's shoulder at the computer screen. "What's up?"
"Just doing some preliminary work for the CCs. Got the final list from the Board concerning our first batch of girls," Rei nods to a datapadd on a nearby table, then saves her work.
Mei walks over to scan through it, then glances over her shoulder. "So when does the fun start for this bunch?"
"Well, we don't have to assemble programs for Ayu or Shirayuki until the end of the month," Rei reports. "Ayu's birthday is on the twenty-ninth, Shirayuki's on the second of February."
Mei hums, setting the padd aside as she returns to standing beside her sister. "Damned perfectionist as always, Onee-chan. Are we still going for this 'grand awakening' at the solstice?"
"Hai," Rei nods. For Toratotaka and its affiliates, the summer and winter solstices, plus the spring and autumn equinoxes, were public holidays worldwide. The autumn equinox was also the anniversary of the company's founding in 2002. "The parents of those whose birthdays fall before the twenty-first of June don't mind it, though. We'll still arrange to have them get time with their daughters' RMUs through a voice link-up unit."
"Best thing to do," Mei smiles. "Oh, I saw that the Board approved for the Matsuuras and the Murasames to get both their girls back. That was pretty surprising."
"Well, after the culling, we were able to justify it. I don't think next years batch'll raise that particular problem."
Mei nods. The "culling" was the complex vetting-out process to weed any undesirable or potentially dangerous adopted parents before the actual construction process on the CCs began. Factors influencing the culling depended on the case subject. Several of the CCs would be children of dietmen. Did their parents vote for the legislation that saw the firsts and seconds banished from Earth in October? For those parents working for Genom (though closing in on retirement), were they involved in a "special" project? Were they likely to face extra-legal problems from work rivals? Then there came the more mundane questions: personal desire to have a replica of a long-lost child, simophobia, substance abuse of any sort, potential incidents of child abuse, etcetera.
"So what do you want me to do?" Mei then asks.
Rei smiles. "Well, I need help on our special pheromone..."
* * *
Megatokyo, Toshima-ku (Toshima Ward), 5 January, morning...
"Thank you for setting time aside to see me."
Aged, piercing eyes lock on Quincy as the chairman sits down in the small living room. He and his host were in an apartment south-east of Ikebukuro station. "You're lucky I wasn't distracted by more important matters," a thin smile crosses Ryuuji Hirosaki's weathered face. "What brings you to see me, boy? Finally decided you'd want to be rid of that little jackal lapping up your ass?"
"Not yet," Quincy smirks.
The man before him was into his mid-nineties though, thanks to a vigorous physical regimen which included tai chi and aikido, he seemed years younger. Ryuuji Hirosaki always had a sharp tongue, something many in Japan would find shocking. Quincy didn't. The Genom chairman knew that if Ryuuji found any cause to rant at you, it meant that he ultimately respected you and what you were doing regardless if he ultimately agreed with you or not. That mattered much to Quincy, knowing what REAL power the man sitting across from him welded. "He still has uses, Elder, though they're shrinking by the day as his sense of self-importance increases."
"Oh, so you're waiting for Stingray's girl to take matters into her own hands, eh?" Ryuuji chuckles, sipping his tea.
Quincy is quick to detect the sharp ting of red pepper in the air around the older man. No wonder, he nods thanks to the boomer housekeeper as he is served a cup of Earl Grey. Back in the days when such things were permitted, Ryuuji Hirosaki had travelled to the planet Noukiios, homeworld of Ataru Moroboshi's adopted elder daughter Reiko. A very spiritual race whose founding culture had endured for over five millennia, the Noukiites taught Ryuuji many important things about faith and one's place in the Universe. They also got him addicted to red pepper tea, a spicy brew the elder often asserted was "good for keeping the damned sinuses clean."
While most people would recoil at the elder's choice of hot drink, Quincy didn't object. After all, when in Rome...!
"I suspect she'll do much for the city as a whole," Quincy nods. "I can't do much myself lest I look weak in the eyes of all those like Mason. Sylia-san'll be a very good distraction for the short term." He sighs. "But that's for the future, I'm afraid. There're more important things bothering me now."
"I assume you speak of the problem with Baal?"
The chairman jolts, then sighs. "How did you know?"
Ryuuji snorts. "Oh, nothing magical about that. All I have to do is watch the damned television and see for myself," he waves to the small set at one corner of the room. "News of the spread of that stuff's been high on the six o'clock news for sometime now."
Quincy grimaces. Trained as a doctor years ago, he had no use for street drugs. The idea that some folks actually got off on injecting themselves with poisons such as hashish, cocaine and the like was just too bizarre for him, even after all he'd experienced. Atop that, drug addiction provoked a heavy drain on productivity, which (if left unchecked) could threaten profits. If Genom was faced with such widespread drug abuse, the company was in danger. The potential catastrophes which could arise from this were many.
"Why haven't you spoken to the Mikihara girl about this, then?" Ryuuji then wonders, sipping his spicy tea. "Finding out more about things like this would be right up her alley, you know."
"True, but I prefer to keep Megumi focused on more mundane threats to Genom," the chairman sighs. "Besides, this garbage is only now coming into Japan, concentrated down in Kyushu."
"Where Jericho Industries is based?" Ryuuji's eyebrow arches.
Quincy doesn't react. That alone tells Ryuuji what he wants to know. "Oh, relax, boy," the elder chides, then sips his tea. "Genom's been keeping an eye on Jericho for some time, especially after the madness concerning that Fernwood boy and what he was put through. Given the type of armour they've developed, if it was mass deployed to forces like AD Police here in town, your combat boomers might not fair so well doing what they have to do...that is, unless you put Abotex or something like that on them."
"True," Quincy nods. "I don't want Jericho destroyed since (from what my sources have discovered) Sylia wants to use them to help build her team's hardsuits...but at the same time, they can become a problem for Genom if they actually succeed in building a combat boomeroid that could work out much better than Fernwood."
"Feh! They don't understand a damned thing about mating a living soul with biomechanics! They'll never succeed at the rate they're going now," Ryuuji makes a dismissive wave with his hand, then sighs. "Still, they're taking notice of the problems the trade in Baal is unleashing in places like Nagasaki and elsewhere. They might be able to deal with the matter on their own...but in doing so," he gazes on Quincy, a smirk turning his lips, "...it might make them look good to parts of the government. People who don't look too favourably on Genom and what Genom does, that is."
Quincy nods again. "True." He then cants his head. "I heard Rei Ijuuin got in contact with Tomohisa-san and Jalynda-san about bringing Chikage-san 'back.' From what I heard, neither of them were too keen on such an idea in the first place."
"Hai, I asked them to do it. They were more than happy to placate the 'old codger' so they can continue to chase their own little dreams," Ryuuji snorts, rolling his eyes. "Then again, what could I expect in the long term, eh? Tomohisa had little potential in the first place and that woman he married never wanted anything to do with the 'unnaturalness' I dealt with. Even came to the point where I felt Chikage would've been lost forever if I didn't step in every once in a while to show her the facts of life." A sad shake of the head. "Pity it was too little, too late."
"It's not totally too late, given what Rei-san wants to do."
"True, true," the elder sighs. "We've been invited down to Kyoto to have a memory scan taken of us at the end of February, a week before Chikage's birthday. Ijuuin and her sister hope to have Chikage ready to go by her birthday, but they want to delay waking her until the summer solstice. All the other CCs whose templates' birthdays come before June will go through the same thing." He nods. "Gives me enough time to see her properly prepared."
"Will your son object?"
"Feh! He hardly cares for what I do these days thanks to his wife," Ryuuji snorts. "Well, no matter. It isn't my damned fault so many people lost touch with their faith when the quake hit, but I have to be the poor sod that has to make sure it doesn't rebound on all those people out there in the long term," he nods out the window at the surrounding metropolis.
"I wonder if people'll ever appreciate the work you and all the others in the Spiral do for this city," Quincy toasts him.
Ryuuji's eyes narrow. "Boy, we're not in it for fame."
"I never said that," the chairman concedes...
* * *
Somewhere in Kumamoto, that evening...
"The False God, my children! Look at it!!"
Blood-curling hisses rake through the warehouse as the group of parishioners sneer and spit at the nanny boomer, nailed as Jesus once was to a cross next to the pulpit. The nanny was a Bu-42. She, resembling a girl in her teens, was once owned by a prominent merchant trader before someone from Prometheus Bound executed him and his wife. The stated purpose, the preacher now delivering his sermon always told his flock, was for exposing their children to the beast, as if they were welcoming a new member to the family. Imagine that! Actually welcoming a BOOMER, a MACHINE, a THING, into a family like it was a needy orphan or poor street girl?! Fortunately, the preacher hums as he moves to finish, the children were saved before they would've been victimized too much. They were now in the care of a parishioner now in the audience, soon to be shown the way to embrace the TRUE Divinity.
"Is this what our land, my children, is coming to?!" the preacher demands, waving to the dead boomer. "Where we cast aside the years, the CENTURIES, of listening to the spirits which give our land its strength...all to prostrate ourselves to this MOCKERY of humanity?! This INSULT to the image of Kami-sama Himself?!"
"NO!!!!" the audience screams out.
"I did not believe so!" the preacher nods contently, then draws up a steel pipe with a jagged end. Twirling it, he sends the pipe into the boomer's right side below the ribs. A spurt of golden biomechanical fluids erupts from the wound, then as the preacher yanks it out, the spurt becomes a steady trickle. He turns back to his audience. "But we, my children, must be very careful here. Already, in a land far away, there are those who have already raised these monsters on a pedestal. They now debate over giving these things RIGHTS, the rights only true human beings deserve! If it is not stopped there, that poison will come here to Japan! Do we want this, my children?! Well, DO WE?!?!"
"NO!!!!"
"Then we must go forth, my children!!" the preacher raises his hands, then points to the back of the warehouse, where several people wait, small boxes on trays in their hands. "Go! Take the seed I give you now! Pass it forth to those innocent souls who have yet to see the True Light!! Teach them the way of the Light and let them become Kami-sama's avenging Angels! Let them cleanse these monsters from our land and render it pure as it once was!!"
A wordless cheer responds as people rise from the pews, streaming back to obtain their offering of Baal, then return to their lives. Watching them, the preacher nods contently, then turns as one of his assistants walks up. "What news?"
Makoto Fujiwara bows respectfully. "Very good news, sir," she smiles. "I was able to convert Kanako Sakurai to our cause. She's more than willing to aid us after some...persuasion."
Hearing that, the preacher nods. "Good," he hisses through his teeth. "She is the assistant to the chief of Special Project Development inside Genom. All that Genom develops concerning boomers must cross her desk sooner or later."
"It isn't that way yet, sir," Makoto cautions.
"What do you mean?"
She sighs. "The chief of SPD, Samantha Johnson, is still subordinate to Brian Mason, Quincy's special assistant. Though we have confirmed that Johnson is working to break her group away from Mason's oversight, it is hard. It appears Mason is contemplating a possible coup d'etat against Quincy in the near future."
The preacher considers this, then snorts. "Pay it no mind, Makoto. Quincy is far too experienced in the dark side of business to be seriously threatened by a pup like Mason. One false step by that fellow and he'll be cast aside just like that," he makes a dismissive wave with his hand. "This is a long-term effort we are making, Makoto. We will use Kanako, but we must not do anything which will expose her true allegiance to others within Genom. Do you understand me? Against a foe like this, we cannot slip up one minute. They will not hesitate in destroying us if they have to."
"Hai, wakarimashita," Makoto bows, then blinks as another woman walks up. "Oh, Ayumi-san!" she nods pleasantly.
"What news have you to report on Jericho?" the preacher asks.
Ayumi Shizuki bows to the preacher. "It's been confirmed, sir. They're going to attempt to create another combat boomeroid on the Fernwood model sometime this year, but this time, it will be hopefully better supervised to prevent any...mistakes," she snorts.
"Will this thing be tested in Megatokyo?" Makoto wonders.
"No, it'll be done in Nagasaki," Ayumi makes a face. "No doubt aimed against our operations there."
"So, the leaders of Jericho fear that the power of Baal will threaten them, eh?" the preacher snorts, then stares intently at Ayumi. "We will see to it this new project also fails, Ayumi."
"Of course, sir," Ayumi nods.
"What of Toratotaka?" Makoto asks.
The preacher smiles. "Akane is handling that part of the operation as we speak," he glances at the crucified boomer...
* * *
Ohita, eastern Kyushu, that moment...
"Anata (Dear)? Are you home...?"
A hand turns the doorknob leading into the Katayama home, located in the southern residential district of Ohita. Peeking inside, the slender girl with the sullen brown eyes and the long black hair looks around. Her nose suddenly twitches as a faint, putrid smell emanates from the living room. "Anata...?" Sayuri Katayama hesitantly asks as she looks around the divider between the foyer and the living room, then gasps. "SATORU!!!!"
Racing inside, she kneels beside the slumped form caught between the sofa and the coffee table, hand reaching for his neck to feel for a pulse. Sayuri jolts on sensing nothing, then her nose crinkles on smelling what had ejected from his body after he died. Trying not to drop to her knees and vomit, Sayuri staggers to the videophone, then dials 1-1-9.
A second later, the local emergency operator responds. "Ohita Emergency Services!" she smiles pleasantly. "May I help you...?!"
* * *
Time seems to loose meaning for Sayuri as she screams for the ambulance to come, reporting that her husband was dead. As soon as his name is relayed, the operator quickly notifies the relevant authorities. Satoru Katayama was one of Ohita Prefecture's senior civil servants. A man who, although not possessing an official government portfolio, was involved in everything from new housing construction to disaster relief to civil security. A person whose heart was in the city he called home, many saw Satoru as. To keep up that image required a lot of work, work that Satoru relished, thrived on. It made him hard to deal with in an intimate sense.
Most women would consider him too much to handle.
Most women weren't Sayuri, however.
In what seems like an instant to Sayuri...it is actually four minutes by her internal timekeeper program...an ambulance arrives, two paramedics rushing in to look at the dead civil servant. The OPMD (Ohita Prefecture Metropolice Department) arrives in force a minute later. One detective sergeant takes Sayuri aside to get her statement. She relays everything she had done and seen in a dry, emotionless monotone, a growing ache in her heart as the reality sinks in. Satoru was dead. Dead. Dead. DEAD...
"Buchou-san (Sergeant)?!"
Sayuri jolts, then her eyes lock on a tiny vial, no bigger than a child's little finger, in the gloved hands of one of the forensics officers. Confusion takes her for a moment as she tries to recall when she last saw something like that. Before it comes to her, the sergeant announces, "Baal."
Sayuri's jaw drops open in shocked disbelief. "No...!" she gasps, then as the sergeant fixes her with a questioning gaze, she shakes her head adamantly. "No, he never used that...!!"
"Are you sure?" the sergeant wonders.
"I..." Sayuri bites her lip, then shrugs. "I...well, never saw him take it myself...I mean, I stayed at home when he was at work...I...no, no, he hated this stuff!!" she exclaims, unsure as to what to believe now. Satoru? Taking Baal? Impossible!
A hand steadies her. "It's alright," the sergeant sighs, trying to look sympathetic. "The chances are, someone might've injected him with Baal on purpose. There've been reports about incidents like this over the last few months, Katayama-san."
Silence.
"Are you saying my husband was...murdered?" Sayuri gasps.
"A possibility," the sergeant assures her. "Now, if you don't mind, Katayama-san, I'm going to ask you to come to the station so we can see to it you remain safe until we determine the cause of your husband's death. Please, it's for your safety..."
A jolt of raw fear surges up Sayuri's spine, then she quickly regains control over herself. No, there was no need to panic and raise suspicions with the authorities. True, she wasn't subject to the recall that had torn dozens of families apart, but letting it be known that she was a 33-S might not fly well with some. Still, she could do something to provide herself with an extra layer of security. "I...h-hai, wakata (I understand)," she nods, then stares hopefully at the sergeant. "Please, may I...call my mother, first, Buchou-san? She'd want to know what happened."
"Of course," he nods graciously.
Sayuri beams her thanks with a smile, then she heads to her bedroom. Glancing back, she confirms that no one could see her. Reaching into her nightstand, she draws out a tubular device fitted with jacks common to most local telephone lines. Unhooking her videophone from the wall jack, she inserts the scrambler, then re-hooks the line in before dialling a number. Another glance out the door. No one had come up to follow her. With that, she draws out a cable from the side of her videophone unit, then inserts it into one of her datajacks under her sable hair. A third glance to confirm she wasn't being watched, then she dials a number.
A second later, the image of an older-looking version of Sayuri appears on the screen before her. "Moshi-moshi! Oh, Sayuri-chan, why are you calling?! I didn't expect this!"
"Konban wa, Mama," Sayuri smiles, then her smile breaks. Even if part of this call was fake, the emotions she now felt were real. "Oh, Mama, it's so horrible!!" she then wails out...
* * *
The Kyoto Annex...
"WHAT happened?!!"
Rei Ijuuin stares wide-eyed at Sayuri Katayama's image on her videophone screen. To better shield the XX series 33-S from being discovered AS a Sexaroid in public, Toratotaka had constructed an elaborate history for the girl, complete with family to call her own. Only Satoru himself had known about this outside Toratotaka, he gladly approving of it. Given what happened to many 33-S's over the last couple of months, it was just prudent to ensure those nosy busy-bodies who had nothing else to do but cause trouble wouldn't lock sights on Sayuri. "It's true, Mama!" Sayuri sobs, wiping her eyes. "Even worse, they're now saying Anata was a Baal addict!!"
<<Is that true, Sayuri?!>> Rei then transmits through her datajack, knowing the question would be garbled white noise in case some fool in Ohita tried to tap into the conversation.
<<No, Rei-mama,>> Sayuri replies. <<Satoru would NEVER use that stuff! It's murder, but the Keystones...>> that was the T'n'T LoopNet code-phrase for local police, <<...want to play it up as if he was an addict until they've got proof positive.>>
<<Wakata,>> Rei nods. "Alright, I'll have someone go down to stay with you until it's safe, okay?!" <<We'll get you away from that place as soon as we can, Sayuri-chan! Hang on tight!!>>
"Arigatou, Mama!" Sayuri nods, smiling...
* * *
Later that evening...
"Katayama was dealt with?"
"Hai, sir," Makoto nods pleasantly. "Akane should be arrested anytime soon. Her words will slander Katayama so badly that his love-doll lover'd do ANYTHING to see it redressed!"
"Good," the preacher nods...
* * *
Ohita Central Police Station, 6 January, after midnight...
"Oi, cut it out, you creep!! Let me go!!!"
Relaxing in the visitor's lounge, Sayuri Katayama perks on hearing the outraged shout. Setting the fashion magazine aside, she walks in the direction of the reception desk, blinking on seeing a girl in her teens, blue eyes with hair dyed ultramarine, being shoved into line. She is dressed in ripped jean shorts, a leather bodice and high-heeled boots, stud straps around her neck and arms. The escorting officer has a bag in hand, filled with small vials like the one found at Satoru's side. "Who's this?!" the desk sergeant demands, gazing absently at the other officer.
"Baal donkey, Buchou-san," the officer smirks. "Her name's Akane Suzuki. Lookee here at the load she was carrying!" he takes the bag and drops it onto the sergeant's desk.
"Soo desu ka (I see)," the sergeant smirks, then nods. "Okay, book her, then throw her into a cell. Tell Ikeda-buchou about this. She might've been the one who got Satoru Katayama."
"Right," the other officer nods.
Akane blinks, then she gazes at the sergeant, trying to break the other officer's grip on her arm. "Oi, oi, whatchu mean I might've 'got' Satoru-chan?! Somethin' happen to him?!"
The sergeant glares at her. "You might say that."
Shuddering, Sayuri stumbles back to her chair, not wanting to believe what that street girl was implying by the very familiar way she spoke of Sayuri's late husband. Did Satoru actually make use of drugs? Did he...?! NO!!! It was impossible!! Sayuri may not've seen her husband all the time, but she knew him enough to know that he wouldn't've done something like THAT!
Which meant...!
Could it mean...?
Sayuri blinks, then shudders, a storm of outrage growing deep in her heart. Yes! Remember what Sergeant Ikeda had said back at the house. Yes! It had to be THAT!! Why, that little bitch! She...she...oh, Satoru, I'm so sorry! I should've protected you!! That BITCH!!! How DARE she think she'll get away with it?!
Why, I oughta...!!
NO!!!
Instantly, her housekeeping computer cuts it, silencing those dark thoughts before they could manifest themselves into physical action. Oh, yes, it would be so easy. Just run in there, grab the lying bitch by the throat and end it right then and there. But Sayuri couldn't no matter what her heart screamed otherwise. It wouldn't be true justice for Satoru. Satoru deserved better.
But how...?
Sayuri blinks, then smiles. She knew what to do now...
* * *
Megatokyo, Genom Tower, 8 January, mid-morning...
"Welcome to the Dollhouse, Johnson-san."
Samantha Johnson jolts, then her eyes narrow suspiciously as she gazes on the senior executive-in-charge of the Bu-33S Mark Two Project, Kohki Miyata. "Is that what you actually call this place?" the chief of Special Project Development demands.
Kohki didn't blink. "Well, Johnson-san, when you see what the scientists and artisans came up with here, you'll understand pretty well what we mean by 'dollhouse,'" he impishly shrugs. "I doubt it'll be too different from working on the Mark One Sexaroids."
"They were never called THAT," Samantha retorts.
Sitting down in Kohki's office, Samantha relaxes as he moves to serve her tea. She was made chief of SPD in November, on the very same day Yoshio Saotome was promoted to House Patriarch of Toratotaka's division HQ in Nerima. It was definitely a move in the right direction, the seven-year corporate boardroom vet muses, nodding thanks as Kohki hands her a cup of sencha. Special Project Development was the rough equivalent of Toratotaka's "Skunk Works," the Office of Special Projects. All the really interesting stuff that various R&D cells across the world came up with, if approved for "operational testing," came to SPD to have the kinks worked out, then either approved for production or discarded. This was unlike OSP, which did R&D in-house; SPD had no such capability.
Serving himself tea, Kohki sits down across from his new boss, a knowing smile crossing his face. "I should apologize for the 'dollhouse' remark, ma'am, but there's a valid reason I make use of it. It's one of the ways I use to keep scientists on this project in line, make sure they stay indifferent towards what might happen to the boomers we've created. Have you see pictures of them, by any chance?" he waves to a photo album on the coffee table.
"No, I haven't," Samantha sets the tea cup aside, then picks up the book, glancing through it. Geez, they were as lifelike as the 33-S's she helped Yoshio build! "I know all of them were activated when they were first built, but then put into cryostorage within the day pending whether or not they'd be tested by SPD." She flips a page, then stops, eyes widening. "What the...?!"
Kohki looks. Samantha was now glancing at a picture of a blonde teenager with grey eyes, an impish look on her face. Even at that point in her life, not even an hour old, the girl seemed to possess a very good understanding of humour. Understandable. The Mark Twos shared almost all their basic personality programming with the original 33-S's. But this face had struck Samantha for more than just a smile. "Kiki..." she hoarsely gasps.
"Unit Ay-Ay-Twenty-Five," Kohki provides. "She's supposed to go by the name 'Akiko,' but she can answer to 'Kiki.' I assume you know Professor Sayako Sheffield and her husband."
"Sayako-san and I joined Genom at the same time," Samantha nods, setting the book aside. "I know her current husband, too; I was the one who brought them together after Sayako-san decided it was time to finally stop mourning Dennis-san. But...I believed she had also got over Kiki-chan, too. God, to see that..."
"It's the same across the board, I'm afraid, ma'am," Kohki sighs. "All the people we drew in to create these boomers...well, all of them lost relatives in Second Kantou. Daughters mostly, but also sisters, wives, even a mother in one case. When we told them to use their imagination to give these boomers their looks and personality, I...well, I never suspected they'd reach into their hearts and come up with something like that," he indicates the photo album. "By the time I caught onto it, it was too late; all the preliminary units were moulded and were being programmed. I do recommend that we avoid this should we decide to build new ones."
"Agreed," Samantha nods. "How do you think this might affect the Mark Twos' effectiveness, much less the support staff's?"
"Well, it depends, I guess," Kohki muses, then sits back in his chair. "Fundamentally, the scientists understand these boomers were created for Genom's use, not to become surrogate family to the scientists themselves. But there'll come times when that dividing line'll be hazed, I'm sure of it. At the same token, I believe that if they do care for these boomers, they'll do everything in their power to see to it these boomers are kept in perfect shape."
"In other words..."
"It's six of one, half a dozen of the other and call 'em," Kohki smirks knowingly.
"Soo ka (I see)," Samantha sighs, then rises. "Well, if you don't mind, I'd like to take a look around."
"Of course..."
* * *
Minutes later...
"I do believe congratulations are in order, Johnson-kachou!"
Samantha laughs as she finds herself embraced by Sayako Sheffield, both now standing in a private lounge set aside for the benefit of the Mark Two Project's scientists. "Thank you very kindly, Sheffield-hakase," Samantha kisses Sayako on the cheek, then pulls back. "My God, Sayako, you actually look younger!"
"Well, working on this project has given me the chance to rediscover some things about myself," Sayako admits, then glances at the doorway, where Kohki Miyata was now standing, chatting with Sayako's husband, Yuusuke Onoda. She then stares intently at her friend. "<<Make him take a hike,>>" she whispers in English; despite that being the language of world communication and business, Kohki never bothered to learn how to speak it.
Samantha nods, then walks over. Nodding pleasantly at Yuusuke, she then gazes on Kohki. "If you don't mind, Miyata-san, I'm going to ask Sheffield-hakase to show me around."
"Of course, Johnson-san," Kohki nods.
Samantha and Sayako sweep out of the lounge, heading down a hallway to a door similar to what might block the entrance to a vault at Fort Knox. Noting that, Samantha nods. No matter what, Genom always took its internal security VERY seriously. Sayako keys in the entrance code, then as the door opens, waves her friend inside. Samantha steps into a space about the same size as a high school gymnasium, then stops, her jaw dropping. "God..."
"Impressive, huh?" Sayako smirks as she secures the door behind her, then moves to stand beside Samantha.
"I'll say," Samantha nods.
The room has one central pathway for heavy equipment leading from the main entrance to an emergency exit at the opposite end. To both sides of the pathway, forty cryostorage units are lined up in four rows of ten. Inside each, barely discernable because of the lighting, was a female form sheathed in a black cryostorage bodysuit, a diver's mask over their faces. Beside each unit, life support systems are hooked in, they powered by leads from the local power plant located a floor below; like many work groups in Genom Tower, the Mark Two Project had its own power source.
"Show me Kiki," Samantha whispers.
Sayako gazes at her, then waves Samantha to her left. In the middle of the third rank, there is a cryostorage unit with the number "25" stencilled on it. Stopping beside it, Sayako sighs, then gazes fondly at the sleeping girl inside. Looking herself, Samantha shakes her head, then stares at her friend. "Why?"
Sayako jolts, then returns Samantha's look, a burning ache flashing in the scientist's blue eyes. "Why not?" she turns away, gazing anew at the dozing Kiki. "Damn it, I know...I accept that in the end, Kiki-chan has to serve the company. Believe it or not, she knows it too, Sam. I..." she pauses, then wryly chuckles. "You must think I've got a screw loose in my head!"
"Well, you got something loose there, Sayako," Samantha walks up, giving her friend's shoulder a squeeze, then she looks once more at the boomer replica of Sayako's lost daughter. "Sayako, I don't think the other executives're going to understand, much less really care, about how much you love her, you know."
"I...y-yeah, I know, I know," Sayako jerkily nods, then she glances towards the ceiling. "But...hell, I look at it this way, Sam. At least in her, part of my daughter lives on," she waves to the cryostorage unit before them. "That's good enough, ne?"
Samantha sighs. "As long as you realize how much it can cost you in the end, old friend," she warns, then hums. "Can she be woken up? I'd like to speak to her if I can."
Sayako blinks, then smiles. "You bet. I'll have her in your office in a half-hour, okay?"
"Alright..."
* * *
A half-hour later, near the summit...
"Oh, gods, she's...?!"
"Yeah, she is," Sayako beams proudly to Samantha's chief assistant, Kanako Sakurai, indicating Kiki with a hand.
The tall, brunette tomboy nods appreciatively. "You do some pretty impressive work, Sheffield-hakase."
"Well, it wasn't hard to copy Saotome-hakase's construction concept for the original 33-S's," Sayako admits, then turns before breathing out. "Kiki, please don't do that!"
"Do what, Mama?" Kiki innocently responds, she now leaning over Samantha's and Kanako's boomer secretary as she gives the latter a close inspection with her eyes and fingers.
"Kiki!" Sayako gently scolds. "She may be a boomer, but I don't believe Sakurai-san would appreciate you manhandling her."
Kiki blinks, then pulls her hand away, her cheeks colouring instantly. "I'm sorry," she meekly bows her head.
Kanako laughs. "Oh, it's alright, Kiki-san, it's alright," she waves the girl down. "No harm done."
"Okay!"
Sayako groans as Kiki bends down to continue her inspection. The secretary is, fortunately, deactivated; Kanako and Samantha often preferred to do their own paperwork, leaving the mundane stuff to the boomer. Kanako falls over laughing. "KIKI!!!!" Sayako snaps, nearly making Kiki leap out of her clothes.
The Sexaroid ducks her head from her mother's angry look, then feels Sayako's arms wrap around her. Kiki shudders, then sighs contently as she leans into Sayako's embrace. This was the best feeling of all, sensing the power of her creator/mother's love for her. Then, the door to Samantha's office opens, revealing the executive in question, along with fellow executive Mark Kaneda. Both have cigarettes in hand; Mark was a chain-smoker's poster boy and Samantha often smoked in retaliation.
Seeing the little "cancer sticks" (as her father called them; it was clearly obvious to Kiki that Yuusuke was a "health nut" to quote her mother), Kiki shudders, then feels her whole body become liquid as a special cerebral booster unit between the lobes of her Mark 11-SP brain clicks in. Before anyone could see, much less comprehend, what she is doing, Kiki lunges, snaps the cigarettes from Mark's and Samantha's fingers, then crushes them and tosses them into a garbage can before restoring herself beside Sayako.
Total elapsed time: 0.4 seconds.
Samantha moves to put the cigarette into her mouth, then pauses on not feeling something between her lips. "What the...?!"
"Oi, who did that?!!" Mark demands, glancing around.
"KIKI!!!!"
Eyes lock on Sayako, who is glaring intently at Kiki. The younger girl looks really sheepish. "But Mama, they're going to kill themselves if they keep smoking!" Kiki defensively cries.
Mark and Samantha gaze at the girl, then their fingers before turning to Kanako. The younger executive is flabbergasted; all she saw of Kiki was a blonde-white-and-blue blur (Kiki now wears a white button shirt and jeans over sneakers). "I...gods, that was less than a SECOND...was it?!...she moved!! Is she normally THAT fast, Sheffield-hakase?!" she stares wide-eyed at Sayako.
"That's...about what we've predicted she could do," Sayako admits, staring annoyingly at her daughter, Kiki ducking her mother's look. "We haven't had the chance to really put the girls through their paces. The only time we've had them awake since they were completed was when we first activated them. Their 'birthday,' so to speak. That was just for a twelve-hour period."
"I take it Yuusuke's impressed himself very well on Kiki," Samantha crosses her arms, clicking her tongue.
"A little TOO much, I confess," Sayako nods, then wags her finger at Kiki. "We, young lady, are going to speak of this when we're alone, understood?" she evenly intones.
"Hai, Mama," Kiki whispers.
Mark takes that in, then sighs. "Well, I'm keeping my damned smokes away from this girl for now on!" he mutters, waving at Samantha as he turns to leave. "I'll see you later."
"Later," Samantha chuckles as he walks out, then waves Sayako and Kiki inside. "Make yourselves at home."
The two walk in, sitting by Samantha's desk. Kanako closes the door behind them as she heads to her work space. Samantha's office is warmly decorated; despite working in a place like Genom at the position she now held, Samantha did her best to hang onto the trappings of a "normal" life. It was something many of the senior executives in this company did, Sayako muses, especially if they were of the type who delved a lot into the "blacker" side of corporate affairs. Samantha had her own small refrigerator and a coffee machine, the executive now by the latter as she prepares two cups. "Sayako, does Kiki drink coffee?" Samantha asks.
"Well, she doesn't really need it, but Yuusuke allowed her to have a cup when we woke her up," Sayako replies.
"Please?" Kiki asks.
"Okay, just a second," Samantha prepares a third cup.
Soon, all three relax, sipping the hot brew in their mugs. "This is hazelnut, isn't it?" Kiki gazes quizzically at Samantha.
"Hai, it is. Do you like it?" Samantha asks.
"It's sweet," Kiki smiles.
"I think you're tasting the sugar instead of the coffee, Kiki," Sayako sips her own cup. "Now, what do you say?"
Kiki blinks, then her eyes widen before she bows her head toward Samantha. "Domo arigatou gozaimasu, Samantha-obachama."
Samantha's eyes bug out of her head as she drops her coffee cup. Faster than the blink of an eye, Kiki's hand snares the cup, restoring it to the table without a drop spilled. Samantha gapes wide-eyed at Kiki, then turns to Sayako. "You programmed THAT into her?!!" she hoarsely exclaims, hand to chest to calm her heart.
Sayako blinks, then sighs. "Well, I'm afraid that's another little mistake we made with them," she admits, then gazes at Kiki. "You remember back in August when Rei Ijuuin came out with that 'third-person side-memory copy-program' concept?"
"Yeah, Yoshio-kun told me he was considering using it for his fourth generation 33-S projects," Samantha nods.
"Well, what it does is, when you do a mem-scan of a person, takes target memories of someone else, then re-generates those memories into a first-person format so it can be programmed into a boomer...say if you want to build a replica of someone you lost," Sayako shrugs, then indicates Kiki. "It works pretty well."
"Does Miyata know about this?"
"No, we never told him that part. Given how much the idiot thinks about what we've done so far, do you think he'd go along with it?" Sayako snorts, sitting back as she sips her coffee.
"I'm not too sure I'D go along with it, Sayako."
"Oh, Sam, relax!" Sayako gently scolds, then sighs. "Look, the whole idea behind the Mark Two concept is to create a special combat unit that can infiltrate into a target zone, do the job, then get the hell outta Dodge as fast as she can go. That means, put simply, she has to be BELIEVABLE. People would be looking at her and you don't want any of them to instantly think, 'Oi, she's a boomer! Let's kill her!' So how do you make them believable, Sam? TRULY believable?! The way you do that is base them off a real person! Ijuuin-hakase's idea was perfect for what we have in mind." She sips her coffee, then nods. "Hai, I admit that I did want to bring a version of Kiki back. Who in my position wouldn't want to take the chance, Sam? Would you? Of course not! But at the same time, I know, WE ALL KNOW, they were built to serve the company. Okay, fine, fair enough. We can accept that, Sam. You know, if Akiko-chan survived the quake, I'd want her to come work for Genom. So in a sense, 'she' IS working for Genom!"
Samantha smirks. "That's a weird sales pitch, Sayako!"
Sayako laughs. "Hai, I know, I know. But...since it's you that's in charge of the testing phase of this project, I'm more than confident that Kiki and the others'll be used right. I'm also confident that if we discover a problem along the way, we can do the right things to correct the problem without it hurting the company or any of us. Believe it or not, when everyone found out that you were taking charge of SPD, they celebrated! You are really liked and respected in this place, Sam. You're a hell of a lot better sight than Mason, much less that old bastard Sousuke!"
"Thank you very kindly," Samantha blushes, then sits back in her chair. "Okay, tell me about Miyata?"
"Raised and bred on Candy Girls and Realdolls, Sam," Sayako rolls her eyes, eliciting a hearty laugh from Samantha. The names indicated two companies which had produced silicon lovedolls at the turn of the millennium. Those were, in a way, the remote ancestors to boomers like Kiki. "He looks on any sort of female boomer as a toy to play with. You know what he calls the project, do you?"
"The 'Dollhouse,'" Samantha snorts.
"I'm not a doll!!"
They gaze on Kiki. The blonde Sexaroid trembles indignantly, her fists clenching and unclenching. Samantha sighs, then stares at Sayako. "He's actually said that in front of them?"
"The girls have very sharp ears," Sayako sighs, then gazes at Kiki. "Tell her what Matilda told you, Kiki."
"Are you sure, Mama...?"
"Go ahead."
Kiki sighs, then stares at Samantha. "Oba-chama...well, we can all cyberlink when we're in storage; that's something Mama and the others provided for us. I...Matilda...she's Ay-Ay-Thirty-six, by the way...when she was woken up in September...well, there was a time she was left alone. Trent-ojichama and Alicia-obachama were called off to help out with the others...and then Miyata-*san*," the sneer Kiki makes on saying the honorific cannot be ignored, "...comes in with a guy. I think he was some civilian consultant to the SDF the company provides because of the Polar War and all that. Well, the instant this guy heard '33-S' when it came to Matilda, he...ordered her to take her clothes off and, well..."
Her voice trails off, she glancing away. Samantha blinks, then shakes her head, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Oh, God, please tell me this DIDN'T happen, Sayako..."
"We found out a couple days later," Sayako sighs.
"Go on, Kiki," Samantha beckons.
"Well..." Kiki takes a deep breath. "After...well, you know, *it* happened...the guy from the SDF told Miyata that girls like us'd be perfect to bring 'comfort' to field troops and all that. You wanna know what, Oba-chama?! Miyata AGREED with him!!"
Samantha blinks, then sighs. "I see..." she sits back in her chair, then taps a control. "Kanako-san, get in here."
Thirty seconds later, Kanako walks inside. "You wished to see me, Samantha-san?" she bows respectfully.
"How'd you like to take direct charge of the 33-S Mark Two project?" Samantha gazes curiously at her.
Kanako jolts, then hums. "Um...what about Miyata-san?"
"What about him?" her boss' voice is as cold as Arctic ice.
"H-hai..."
* * *
To be continued...
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