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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's eyes sting as she gazes on the preserved images
memorializing a more innocent time for Noriji and Seika Matsuura.
Both in their sixties, the former Kyoto group supervisor from Genom
Construction (Noriji retired in March) and his wife had lived in
Tokyo with their daughters Kurumi and Yui when Second Kantou
struck. Now all the couple had of their beloved children were what
personal items had been salvaged from their home...and their
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 sighs as
she closes the photo album, then sets it aside. "For them to pass
on when they were so young..." she shakes her head.
"Many have had to come to terms with something like this since
the quake, Ijuuin-hakase," Noriji sagely comments, a pained shudder
surging through him. 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...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 are statistically
quite," she pauses, "...minuscule in comparison. The reason I
asked is that one of my duties as Bekkankachou (Annex Matriarch) in
Uji is to progress inducted sentient research. We in Toratotaka
are as keen to see such steps taken as your former co-workers in
Genom, Matsuura-san. Also, I wish to help those like yourselves
who lost everything which truly mattered to you five years ago."
"In what way?" Noriji wonders aloud.
"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 politely covers her mouth. "Not quite, I'm afraid," she
impishly grins, her eyes sparkling. Actually, Toratotaka DID have
time machines, no doubt hidden somewhere in the Special Projects
laboratories near Aomori. Of course, such devices wouldn't be used
for what Rei presently had in mind. "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 exchange puzzled looks. Rei remains
silent. The couple had been married long enough to be able to tell
what the other was thinking via body language. 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
even if you had a friend in Genom R&D 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 33-S model. 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'd contemplated acquiring a Sexaroid for a
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. That will allow
us to continue our work within Toratotaka. We 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 painful facts, but you both qualify to be
benefactors of the Child Companion Project. You lost your children
in the 2025 quake. Through various other 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
adoption, but the government prefers potential foster parents to be
younger," a pause, then, "...and I'm sure both of you don't wish to
relive certain parts of a young 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 Robert Geiger <robertgeiger@prodigy.net>, the Dragonbard
<dragonbard@hotmail.com> and Shawn Hagen <hagen@brant.net>
**** **** ****
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 glances over her shoulder as a diminutive, blonde dynamo
of energy hurls herself into the room. The Annex Matriarch doesn't
react on seeing Mei, now dressed in a Cyber-Nurse's white jumpsuit.
The blue trim and boots, plus the "001" on the breast, indicated
the body Mei now called her own was meant for an MT series urban
trauma rescue nurse. *More than a nurse now,* Rei muses. Mei just
completed residency for an 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 mulnaengmyoun (buckwheat noodle soup in water) icy cold and the
soju (distilled spirits) 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 the data on the padd, then she 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 middle 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 year's batch'll raise that particular problem."
Mei nods. The "culling" was the complex vetting-out process
designed to remove undesirable, or potentially dangerous, would-be
adopted parents before construction 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 smiles.
The man before him was into his nineties though, thanks to a
healthy lifestyle, he acted years younger. Ryuuji Hirosaki always
had a sharp tongue, something many in Japan would find shocking.
Quincy didn't. The Genom chairman knew if Ryuuji found any cause
to rant at someone, it meant he ultimately respected that person,
what s/he was doing, regardless if he ultimately agreed with that
person or not. That mattered much to Quincy, knowing what REAL
power the man welded. "He still has uses, Elder, though they're
shrinking daily 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 tang of red pepper in the
air around the older man. 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 elder daughter Reiko. It
was inhabited by a deeply spiritual race whose founding culture had
endured for over five millennia. The Noukiites taught Ryuuji many
things about faith and one's place in the Universe. They also got
him addicted to red pepper tea, a spicy local 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 one thing is the problem with Baal?"
"You know?"
Ryuuji snorts. "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.
Also, drug addiction was one of the many social ills that provoked
a heavy drain on industrial productivity. If left unchecked, that
could, over time, 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 industrial
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's gotten 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 normally dealt with. Even came to
the point where I felt Chikage would be 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."
"In this case, you have a second chance, given what Rei-san
wants to do," the chairman muses.
"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-curdling hisses rake through the warehouse as the group
of parishioners sneer and spit at the nanny boomer, a Bu-42. She
is nailed and strapped to a pole beside the pulpit. Resembling a
girl in her teens, she was once owned by a merchant trader before
someone from Prometheus Bound executed him. 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 member to the family. Imagine! Actually welcoming a BOOMER, a
MACHINE, a THING, into a family like it was a needy orphan from a
children's home? Fortunately, the preacher hums as he moves to
finish, the children were saved before they were victimized too
much. They were now in the care of a parishioner in the audience,
soon to be shown the way to embrace the TRUE Divinity.
"My children, is this what our land 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. Spurts of golden
fluid erupt from the wound, then as the preacher yanks it out, the
spurts becomes a steady trickle. He turns back to his audience.
"But we, my children, must be careful here. Already, in a land far
away, there are those who have raised these monsters on a pedestal.
They now debate giving these things RIGHTS, the rights only true
humans 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, streaming back to
obtain their sacrament of Baal, then they leave to return to their
lives. Watching them, the preacher nods contentedly, 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
found herself 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, hopefully,
it will be better supervised to prevent 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 dead 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 dark 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 lose 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 and 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 rush in to look at the civil servant, then in spite
of the absence of a heartbeat, hook him up onto a respirator unit.
Just as they are about to take Satoru to the hospital, the OPMD
(Ohita Prefecture Metropolice Department) arrives in force. One
detective sergeant takes Sayuri aside to get her statement. She
relays everything she did and saw in a dry, emotionless monotone,
a growing ache in her heart as the reality sinks in, a reality the
determination of the two paramedics couldn't chase away.
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 hand 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 numbly nods, then she heads to her bedroom. Glancing
back, she confirms that no one can 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 unit, then re-hooks the line
in before dialling a number. The phone did come with an integral
scrambler unit, but it was a system designed by a Genom subsidiary.
Sayuri had long been taught to NEVER fully trust non-Toratotaka
security systems in times of extreme emergencies. 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, then inserts it
into one of her datajacks hidden under her 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 tries to smile, but fails. 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, Toratotaka had constructed an elaborate
history for the girl, complete with family to call her own. Only
Satoru had known about this outside Toratotaka. He gladly approved
of it. Given what happened to many 33-S's over the last year, it
was prudent to ensure nosy busy-bodies, who seemed to have 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 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 now. 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 against the desk. She is dressed in 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 mule, Buchou-san," the officer smirks. "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 in, 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 glances at a picture of a blonde teen
with grey eyes, an impish smile on her face. To see emotion on a
boomer wasn't surprising in this case. The Mark Twos shared almost
all the basic sentience 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 gotten 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. Gods, seeing THAT
just freaked me out! Anyhow, when we told them to use their
imagination to give these boomers their looks and personalities,
I," he pauses, then. "...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 units were moulded and programmed. I do recommend that we
avoid this should we decide to build new ones in the future."
"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 blur, 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 second husband, Yuusuke Onoda. She then stares intently
at her friend. "<<Sam, 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 that which 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 the opposite end. On both sides of the
pathway, forty cryostorage units are lined up in four rows of ten.
Inside each is a female form sheathed in a cryostorage bodysuit, a
diver's mask over each of their faces. Beside each unit, life
support systems are hooked in. Those are powered by leads from a
generator unit a floor below. Like many groups inside Genom Tower,
the Mark Two Project had its own indigenous 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 up there, Sayako," Samantha
walks up, giving her friend's shoulder a squeeze, then she looks
once more at the boomer replica of Sayako's 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
wakened? 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 Tower 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
loudly exhaling. "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 away 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 in her head 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, jeans and 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 at her daughter. Kiki ducks 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 often delved 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 THAT?!" Sayako snorts, sitting back as she sips her coffee.
"I'm not too sure I'D go along with it, Sayako."
"Sam, relax!" Sayako gently scolds, then sighs. "Look, the
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 had 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 a chance like that, 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," she pauses, then
gently exhales, "...since it's you that's in charge of the testing
phase, I'm 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 as she toasts her
friend with her coffee cup. "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 types of silicon lovedolls which had appeared at the
turn of the millennium. Those were, in a way, the remote ancestors
of 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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