[FFML] Frozen Butterfly Chapter 3 [BGC]

[skychan]

Here's chapter three, I hope that it meets with approval.  Comments and
Critisism are both quite welcome.
Skychan, Skywize

Frozen Butterfly a story of Bubblegum Crisis





Chapter 3.0 – Gathering Storm

With my first step of freedom came the blinding light of afternoon.  It
took longer for the ingrained urge to shade my eyes to go from thought to
deed than it took my vision to recover.  Dropping my arm back down still
squinting slightly against the brightness I set out purposefully toward the
fencing at the edge of a cracked and pitted loading area.

*Free*, the thought seemed to sing within me.

I was free at last.  Two days had felt, had been a lifetime.  A smile on my
lips I swept short silver-blond hair out of my eyes.  The blue sky, and
white clouds, shining golden sun, everything about the day seemed
perfect.  Even
the underlying stench of rot, oil, grime, and smog that seeped from sun
backed tarmac couldn't blunt the happiness I felt.

My eyes darted nervously about building a full three dimensional picture of
my surroundings in my head.  I could almost see where I was within it.  I
felt instinctively the distance from building to fence, marking out the two
cars and truck parked in the lot.  I knew I didn't even need to keep my
eyes open to maintain that sense of things around me.

My breathing slowed, pulse thudding in my veins as I decided to move.  Feeling
like treading through molasses, sounds muting light dimming, I raced for
the fence.  There was no guard, and I scaled it rapidly, miscalculating my
momentum.  Going over the top too fast and facing a fifteen foot drop only
my desperate reach arrested my fall at the last moment.  My hand caught the
barbed wire trailing across the top in a tight pain filled grip.

Letting myself down the other side I could feel slick 'blood' pumping from
my injury.  The torn of muscle and throbbing pain of a deep puncture in my
palm pulsed with each beat of my heart.  **

Finding myself staring at the injury, the bright red fluid I could only
think of as blood slowly pooling up from the gash I was caught up in
seemingly endless status reports.  *Myomer fibers damaged loss of use 6%,
Epidermis damage 3%, pulmonary leak .03 liters per minute, anticipated time
to full recovery 1 hours 3 minutes +-50 seconds an current activity level,
warning insufficient nutrients to maintain current operating mode until
recovery complete.*

With a blink I jerked myself free.

Free of the immersion in graphs and power curves, recovery times and
efficiency projections as the world rushed around me, the sounds growing
louder, light brighter and my breathing beginning to both slow and speed up
at once.

I forced myself into a stumbling walk, and then a steadier *10kilometer/hour
* pace away from the warehouse.  With one last glance back I focused on the
building the chrysalis, the last time I would ever see where I was reborn.

As my pulse finally slowed to an optimal level and the adrenaline of my
escape wore off I couldn't help but give into the instinctive temptation to
lift my hand up and suck on the injury.  Was that programed, remembered, I
couldn't separate the instincts of my new body from memories of my old.

Either way it tasted, good, disturbingly so, everything was just right.  Salty,
sweet, savory all at once and I yearned for just a little more.  A few more
licks and the injury was sadly clean.  *Recovery time now 27 hours 2
minutes +- 35 seconds,* the thought striking me as odd and made me stutter
step before continuing on.

A few moments of comparing mental graphs I realized why.  I could operate
on a near split second level, I had been without even realizing it.  But it
wasn't good for me, burning through my reserves at an exponential rate.

Now I was back at a more natural, economy operating level.  That unnatural
realization didn't send a chill up my spine.   It was just a completely
normal change in functioning parameters.  Even so I made myself shiver
intentionally, and somehow that made me feel better.

Then I laughed.  Hand running over my flat stomach I couldn't help it.  I
was in perfect shape, and could control my metabolism at will.  The
ultimate in dieting secrets and I only had to die to get it.  Sardonically
I wondered how well that would work for an adverting campaign.

Closing my hand increased the ache but pain was disassociated from my
thoughts.  I could feel it, was aware of it, but it didn't have an effect
on my decision making process.  Opening it once more to see no more of my
nutrient fluid had been lost I headed towards the heart of Mega-Tokyo, lips
in a wide happy smile.

I knew where I was going, at least in the broad sense.  The city was
riddled with damage from the great Kanto quake seven years ago, an
earthquake that had devastated Japan and shaped a generation.  In some
areas buildings were still derelict and whole sections of the city without
power.  I wanted something like that, someplace to hide.

Stopping under a highway overpass I slipped up the concrete incline until I
was hidden in the superstructure.  To the accompaniment of traffic overhead
I took off the lab coat and coverall that had gotten me this far, stuffing
them up against a rusting I-Beam.

I pulled my new cloths from the bag Goosebumps rising up in the chill
shadows beneath the bridge.  Swallowing at finding a racy, lacy, set of
lingerie I set them aside, wondering what fate had been in store for me if
I had remained.

Digging deeper I pulled out and on the plain black t-shirt beneath them
before I tried to slip into the jeans.  Tried is the operative word.  I
don't know if he just got the size wrong or if women's jeans were all
supposed to take an advanced degree in gymnastics and contortionism to put
on but these did.

They were snug, a bit stiff, and I wasn't sure what might happen if I tried
to bend over in them.  But it would be hard to find a more anonymous set of
cloths to hide in so I resolved to live with the uncomfortable way they
seemed shrink-wrapped to my legs and rear.

Bag now empty I stuffed the spare undergarments into a pocket and slipped
back on the simple pair of canvas shoes I had been given.  Sutekina had
forgotten to buy me any socks, but remembered racy lingerie no one to blame
for that but myself.  I strapped on his watch, pulled his cash and cards
from the wallet and discarded it.  Slipping out from beneath the bridge my
stride lengthened as I stepped out with all the confidence I could muster
into the fine afternoon.

The weathers beautiful, bright blue sky, gentle breeze, and sunlight
warming my skin.  I wondered if anything could be better than this.  Almost
bouncing with joy as my escape continued to be un-noticed, un-remarked, and
most importantly still I was un-caught!

Hearing the rumble of humanity grow as I slowly wore the rubber from my
shoes a grin slipped over my face and I had to fight not to start skipping
in excitement.  Not hard, I've never been that demonstrative, but the urge
was still there.  It was like the world opened up when I turned that corner
onto Aoyama Dori, the light seeming brighter, the mass of humanity a blur
taking a moment to come into focus.

I must have been standing there for hours, *one minute nine seconds, *before
I came back to myself and realized what was really going on.  I was being
bombarded with access requests, wireless signals, short range radio
transmissions and blue tooth connections.

I will never wonder about how ECM works again.

Luckily I had a better option than trying to work through the distraction
and glare of all that background 'noise' or in my case 'light' and mentally
shut down the receivers I had unknowingly left open to the world.  Almost
instantly the light seemed to fade.  It wasn't as if it were getting
darker, just, things were not as vivid, like stepping from Speed Racer into
the real world.  Brilliant cerulean sky was just a pale blue, emerald
leaves simply green, and all the browns, blacks, grit dirt and smog were
back in the world.

Merging with the vast stream of humanity I felt somehow cheated.  My eyes
blinking to moisten them after my impromptu staring contest with the
universe I went with the flow, merging into the stream of unfortunately
unwashed humanity.

At least I knew by now that my body responded automatically to some things.
 As natural for it as gagging at the texture of eggplant was for my last
but still I felt dirty being aroused by the seemingly liquid stench of
humanity I found myself immersed in as I moved through the crowds.  Pheromones
I decided are a bitch.

Growing tired, hungry, and frustrated with myself I took the first excuse
to escape I could when the breeze brought a new smell to my nose.  Following
the scent to a small stall shaded from the afternoon sun by an awning I
stepped up to the counter of a Ramen shop.  Something in the smell of pork,
salt, noodles and monosodium glutamate bringing an entirely unanticipated
desire to my lips.

Slipping beneath the awning and up to the bar I gave the proprietor a
grateful smile as the scent of cooking noodles and broth overwhelmed
everything else.  The overweight man smiled at me, doing little to conceal
an appreciative stare.  Somehow his obvious gaze bothered me less than the
unknowing effect of the masses.

 "One regular pork ramen please."  I ordered, picking my stool from the row
with care, settling on the cleanest.  This one had only a few time worn
cracks in the red vinyl cover and didn't look like a wilting mushroom.

With a last lingering glance he turned to cook the noodles, preparing my
bowl with skill and panache.  In no time at all the bowl spun to a stop
before me.  The broth glimmering with little beads of fatty oil filled with
slices of green onion, corn, fish cake, seaweed and bean sprouts.

I immediately set to, remembering to slurp politely after the first bite.  The
noodles tasted as I remembered, the rice starches slightly sweet, but it
was the broth that made my eyes pop wide.  Fatty oils making my mouth
water, their flavor enhanced by unfamiliar nutritional needs.  I suppressed
the urge to giggle with the next spoonful wondering if I would like pure
motor oil now.  Could I even metabolize it or would make my organics sick.

I made it halfway through the noodles, and three quarters through the broth
before feeling not only full but almost uncomfortably stuffed and I leaned
back sated.  Although my stomach felt as though it should be visibly
bulging from my feast I couldn't eat another bite.  Looked mournfully at
the leftovers in the bowl I    realized how little I had actually consumed,
I would have to switch to the kiddie menu from now on.

Pushing the dish away and leaving enough to cover my meal from
Sutekina-san's money, I stood up and turned back to the street and the
crowd.  The sun was gone, hidden beneath a fresh grey coating of
clouds.  Giving
a sniff of moist air I realized, *ambient temperature and dew point at near
parity.   *Right, I laughed a little at my inner voice, I could have told
anyone it's about to rain without the help.

Sure enough slow fat drops of water began to fall splashing against the
still warm cement of the sidewalk as the crowd sprouted umbrellas.  It was
like watching time lapse photography of mushrooms growing but far more
colorful.  Stepping out into the quickly thinning crowds I turned south and
began to walk swiftly eyes scanning signs and billboards eager to find the
next key to freedom.

Fat warm drops of rain landed in my hair, matting it as the rain began to
thicken, my dark shirt beginning to soak through and I knew it would be
hours before my jeans would be comfortably dry again.  Despite the
inconvenience and discomfort of the weather there was one great perk that I
couldn’t emphasize enough.

Rain Cleans The Earth.

And it takes a lot of pollen, dust, and pheromones from the air while doing
so.  It was incredible how much more at ease I felt, sticky cotton and
squelching shoes included as the rain began to fall in earnest.  My walk
was just long enough to become soaked to the bone as I found what I was
looking for and stepped into the jarringly chill air conditioned vestibule
of an internet café.

A short conversation during which the clerk's eyes never reached my chin
and I found myself sitting down at a computer, a cup of tea and a towel
provided on the house.  Logging on physically was the work of moments but
it took a few minutes more to figure out how to enable the computers
wireless and get my own to synch with it.

Letting my eyes close it felt as though I stepped back outside into the
rain as I slipped out into the web.  This system felt cramped, a tunnel
barely wider than my shoulders, but one that could lead in any and every
direction at once.  Pushing through intangible barriers like cobwebs I
could feel them sticking to me tracking my path but I couldn't figure out
how to get free of them.  Resigned to the tracking cookies I couldn’t slip
free of I didn't go straight to my new friends computer, instead leaving a
message, in simple text, for them to find the next time they entered the
city's computer network.

"Thank you, I'm Free." Galatea 3.0

It was enough I thought, maybe later I could say more but the silken
webbing was starting to chafe and pull, reminding me uncomfortably
everything I did was likely being watched.  I so wanted to keep going then,
and do the one thing I hadn't allowed myself before.  See if my old
friends, from college, from work, from flesh… were still alive.  Prudence
overcame desire as I turned instead to the cities records.

Blinking my eyes I almost jumped at the first bolt of lightning, its harsh
glare fuzzing behind my ears my connection, already tenuous as I strained
against the webbing broke and I had to bite back a curse jarred out of the
web.  Quickly before another bolt could land and send further shocks
through my wireless I shut myself off once more from the electronic world.

Drying my hair vigorously with the towel, trying to get rid of the
lingering feel of static in my skull I grumbled to myself.  "You would
think all electronics would be shielded against that kind of thing by now."
Through the broad glass façade of the building, nature matched my mood
quite well dark with thunderclouds.  The thunder clashed as if a mirror to
my frustration at being so easily foiled.

Parting with a few hundred more yen for the most disposable of disposable
umbrella's I took myself back out into the rain damp jeans and all.  Checking
my watch for the time I realized, *four minutes 13 seconds slow.*  So four
thirty, not that you would know it from the sky.

Umbrella clutched close I squelched my way back through the streets, the
rain colder now making me shiver.  The ache from my torn palm growing
worse, the cold and wet making it impossible to ignore as I had before.

I wasn't entirely sure what I was looking for now, just that it probably
wouldn't be in the nice part of town.  I knew that I was getting close when
I started to see the homeless under awnings, tucked into alleys, and men
with long coats dealing in 'things' from the dubious cover of subway
terminal entrances and bus shelters'.

I was out of place, too clean, too shiny, too new, to fit in and I knew it.
But at least the rain made me share some characteristics with those around
me.  I was just as wet, miserable, and cold as the rest of them.  Tucked up
against the crumbling masonry of a building to get out of the wind I
watched more people start to trickle into the neighborhood.

Street toughs in leather pretending the rain didn't bother them, quick fit
young day laborers in well worn coveralls who moved with assurance avoiding
trouble by knowing who not to insult and the confidence in themselves.  Lastly
was the broken down, stoop shouldered mass of the rest of the lower
class.  Moving
unobtrusively through the rain, I picked one, a woman maybe thirty or forty
with a partially broken umbrella still wearing the Lawson's uniform from
her convenience store job.

She was perfect, poor, downtrodden, in old worn clothing, female, but it
didn't look like she had entirely given up, and by the way she avoided
trouble without being obvious someone who knew the area well.  Shoulders
hunching steps moving with a slight drag and not looking up to meet
anyone's gaze or draw their eye I went after her.

"Hey, could I talk with you a second?" I asked softly following her into
the lobby of a dark building my voice lowered to keep from drawing
attention beyond her's.

She stopped and I saw her eyes quickly dart to the exits, the dark corners
then me.  "I'm sorry but, I'm very busy…" she said, feet shuffling, ready
to bolt.

"It's important."  Interrupting her I took a step closer and into the light
cast by the single bare bulb in the ceiling "I need a place to stay."

As her eyes widened already starting to shake her head mouth opening to
reply I cursed my clumsy approach but pressed on.  "Just, can you point me
in the right direction?  I'm almost broke, but." Shuffling my feet and
looking down I let my bodies instinct have free reign.  Needing her trust
and pity I felt my stance adjust itself subtly.  "I just really need a
place to stay a few days, if you could even just let me know where it might
be safe." I let a little waver slip into my tone.

I don't know what she's thinking, or guessing, abused girlfriend, runaway,
druggie trying to get clean, whatever, it was enough.

"Look, there's a place, a building two blocks down with big wooden doors,
was a museum or something, ask for Juri maybe she'll let you stay, maybe
not, but I have to go."  And she did, hurrying into the stairwell and out
of sight.

Out into the thunder and rain once more; it is official; whatever else a
cyberdroid might be I am now an amphibian.  It had looked like it was going
to be such a nice day too.  Rolling my shoulders in a little shrug I
stomped along in my wet shoes squishing with each step.

The crumbling façade was impressive.  It was obvious which building she had
meant, it was huge, with some kind of granite facing, and probably built
years before I was born.  It mimicked western styles, but somehow scrunched
up tight.  Large cracks were visible throughout the foundation, up one
wall, and the top floor looked like it had either collapsed or was in the
process of doing so.

Up steep steps and through once impressive doors I walked, my stride
confidant, in control, a lie.  I swallowed nervously as the light dimmed.  It
was dark outside, but within windows let almost no light from the storm,
and only a few lanterns spread a feeble yellow glow against water stained
walls and the piles of decaying and discarded office furniture.

The atrium was at least two stories tall, and I realized the debris was not
spread randomly.  As my vision adjusted I caught the glint of metal and
gleam of white from watching eyes as I had to travel a circuitous path from
a balcony above.

"Stop right there" a gravely female voice spoke, echoing in the open space.
Stepping into view with the accompanying jingle of chain's accompanied by a
sound I had never heard in person, but could only be someone cocking a
handgun.

Before me stood a vision of 80's punk, it must be true fashion repeats
itself every fifty years.  I guess I should have expected it.  With a
rainbow mowhawk dyed and redyed so many times I couldn't guess at its true
a woman stood proud.  Nose, lip, and cheek rings stood out arrogantly
against a red fox tattoo and along with a pistol in hand she had a myriad
of knives; in her belt, her boot, and who knows where else.

Maybe twenty, thirty years old, beneath her ornamentation it was impossible
for me to judge but whatever  she looked tough as nails and ornery as a
snake.

Freezing, I stood mute a few moments longer than her patience would
bear.   "Well
who are you, why are you here."  Her voice had a snap to it, expecting
immediate response.

Ducking my head instinctively at her tone I hurriedly spoke up, "Kari
Ceallaigh, I'm just looking for a dry place to stay a night, maybe two.  I
was told to come here, to ask for Juri..."

Her eye's narrowed as she looked me over.  I'm sure I couldn't have made a
less imposing picture.  She was five eight, maybe five nine, *173
centimeters including footwear,* my inner voice informed me.  In contrast I
know I stood only a shade over five feet tall at only 152 centimeters with
short now tangled blond hair.  She was built like a fighter all hard muscle
and sinew while I was a petite 90 lbs soaking wet, which I currently was.

I doubt her eyes missed much, from my nearly empty pockets, new cloths and
relatively well-kept appearance to the shiny watch on my left wrist.  I
could see her putting together my story without asking a single
question.  "Runaway
huh, fine, you can stay, two nights, maybe three if your quiet but it will
cost you that watch."

Shivering from the cooling water of my cloths I let out a smile of
gratitude hand already fumbling for the timepiece.  I didn't need it,
certainly not as badly as a haven.  "Thank you, truly." I say, the tension
that had been building in my shoulders draining away as I held the watch
out for her.

Snatching it away she directed me on with a jerk of her head.  "Nimu will
show you where to stay." And I spotted a girl behind her up the stairs.  Twelve
years old at best in her own tattered jeans and an oversized leather jacket
she just watched me, eyes slightly too wide and breathing too fast, *likely
subject of abuse 65%*.  When she caught me looking she stepped fully around
the corner trying to look tough, and I managed not to belittle her
achievement.  *Heart rate indicates subject is near panic.*

With a polite bow of thanks to the leader and a nod to Nimu we were off up
three flights of mildewing stairs.  I moved slowly, careful not to move too
close or too quickly around her.  The only light coming from flashes of
lightning though partially boarded up windows.  Outside the heavy rain and
thunder along with Nimu's nervousness worked to discourage any kind of
conversation from starting.

In an ironic turn I was led to the Human Resources office for my room.  Nimu
gave me firm instructions not to go wandering about.  I simply nodded, glad
to hear her heart-rate back down and see confidence returning.  There was a
cot, a chair, and an old desk lined with burnt out candles and pools of wax.
>From the way some of the drips reached the floor this building had been
without power a long long time.

Shutting the door I realized just how cold it was getting, *4.3 degrees
Celsius,* and the wet cloths weren't helping to keep my temperature
up.  Shouldn't
an advanced mechanical marvel be impervious to this kind of thing I
wondered.  My shivering getting worse I decided not to press my luck and
try to find out.

Stripping down and wringing out shirt and jean's into a battered recycling
bin helped a little, but I was still miserable as the last vestiges of
light faded beneath the door.  Skin growing cold and clammy, I shivered
nonstop and couldn't drift off into the semblance of sleep my body now
needed.

I lay on the cot, pulling a scratchy wool blanket around me and tried not
to be miserable as my body temperature slowly dropped.

So it was, feeling slow and sluggish my core temperature low that I heard
the first gunshots.
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