Author’s Note: This story is intended for mature readers
–
I
The very first time it happened, it was a Wednesday, and Satoshi was in a café on 16th avenue; though he had no money, physical or digital, he had ordered a full breakfast. That day was marked by gloomy weather. It had been threatening to rain all morning, and finally, at 11:59am, the very moment the waitress showed up with his meal, the clouds began to empty themselves on the denizens of Neon Tokyo.
“Enjoy your meal,” the waitress said, but Satoshi barely heard her. He was staring, the waitress thought, at the individuals outside the café, scurrying about in the busy streets, trying to find shelter from the heavy rain.
As it turned out, the waitress was wrong. Satoshi was not looking through the window, but rather was looking at it. The café had been relatively empty up until that point, but then it began to fill up steadily with individuals. Anyone of them who glanced at Satoshi may have assumed that he was deep in thought, but that was also far from the truth. Satoshi was, in fact, intensely preoccupied by the trajectories of the raindrops sliding down the glass windows.
Satoshi stared at the raindrops, fascinated. He observed that there were drops of various sizes, converging and diverging in tiny rivulets, sliding down the glass windows at different speeds, down, down, down into oblivion.
Satoshi’s focus was an attempt to stop himself from thinking about ongoing troubles in his life. However, this proved futile when he subconsciously began to draw parallels between the raindrops and himself. I wonder if there’s any principle to their movement, or are they left at the mercy of vacillating and treacherous forces like the wind? Are they, like some humans, like me, destined to-
“Aah,” Satoshi cried, drawing the attention of more than a few people. Oblivious, he sighed, lamenting his failed attempts at mental radio-silence. He then redirected his gaze towards his meal.
The eggs were scrambled and had not been fried properly at all. The bread was stale; obviously a few days old. So much for the fancy café at the corner of sixteenth street. Or maybe just my luck.
The waitress was walking down the aisle, drawing the heads of some men as her hips swung from side to side. Satoshi was not one of these men. He forced himself to take a bite of his cold meal and then gave in to what he had been working so hard to avoid.
As he nibbled on the tasteless bread, he thought about the utter unfairness of life and felt rage bubbling from deep within him. Why, why, why? Why did I have to lose my job today? When rent is almost due, when money is tight, when medical bills are in?
The truth was, Satoshi had felt that he would be let go several weeks ago. He had just been living in denial ever since. That didn’t stop him from feeling sorry for himself though.
Sitting in a café on the corner of 16th street, Satoshi wondered what he would do. He thought about calling his sister, but the image of her smug, piggy face made him want to puke. He thought next about calling his uncle. He knew his uncle would ignore the call, but at least he would always have voicemail as evidence. That kind of evidence was always useful for family meetings; events which were organized under the guise of keeping in touch but were secretly opportunities for the well-off members of the family to castigate and chastise the others.
Picking his phone from the inner pocket of his suit, Satoshi dialed his uncle’s number; 0000-26-27-28. Hearing the semi-sporadic tone of the keypad, Satoshi involuntarily recalled all the times he had called his uncle before.
There was that one time he had been suspended from school for vandalism. He didn’t really want to smash the baseball team’s trophy, but that was the initiation rite for entering the Konba Gang, or so he had been told. There was that other time he had fallen asleep in the research lab, leaving the solvent purification unattended to. Luckily, the only casualties were the lab rats nicknamed Merry and Pippin. Then, there was the time Suki Mizumi had threatened to report him to HR for sexual harassment just because he had stared at her cleavage for a little too long.
Satoshi began to feel nervous, but it was too late to hang up. He didn’t want his uncle to be notified that he had attempted to call him.
Then, just when his uncle should have picked up, a voice came from the other side of the telephone:
“Dear customer, unfortunately your call plan has been terminated by your company. Please visit our offices for a new sim card. Thank you.”
Satoshi held the phone to his ear for several moments, even after the line went dead. Perhaps, he should have been relieved that he failed to get through to his uncle, but something about the whole endeavor sparked a new anxiety within his soul.
For god sake Satoshi, you’re not a teenage boy anymore. You are 43 now. What are you calling him for?
That’s right, Satoshi had turned 43 sometime last month. At the time, he didn’t bother to take note of that date, much less celebrate it. What is exactly is there to celebrate? Rising tax rates? Increased standard of living? Reduced accessibility of health insurance? The fact that the chance of being crushed by debris from outer space has risen by 0.001%? That’s right, nothing.
All these thoughts only served to increase Satoshi’s awareness of how much trouble he was in now that he was jobless. He could feel beads of hot sweat forming on his brow, and a peripheral awareness of the pretty waitress prowling about the café reminded him of the bill for his meal.
That’s right, I haven’t gotten any cash on me right now. What was the plan again? Oh dear, I should have thought this through.
Suddenly, Satoshi’s fingers began to tremble. The beads of sweat matured and began to run down the sides of his face. “Its too early for a midlife crisis,” Satoshi said, sinking his face into his meal. “Its way too early.”
Now, other people began to take an interest in him in earnest. Among them was the waitress. She walked over to his table and said, “Sir, are you okay?” There was generalized murmuring in the café.
Satoshi replied, “Yes well, I just, well I…”
“Shall I call the manager sir?” The waitress was showing concern for him, but it was the wrong sort of concern. It wasn’t empathy. To her, he was a problem to be solved. Realizing this, Satoshi panicked, and too much of this was revealed in his response.
In loud a voice, Satoshi said, “I’m all right miss. I can assure you.” The inflections and intonations of his words were bizarre; as if he had lost, and found, confidence as he was speaking.
The waitress with the cherry red lipstick looked anything but assured. “That’s okay sir, you stay right here.” Then she began to walk with conviction towards a door which he could only assume led to the office of the manager, or some other equally troubling person.
“Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear,” Satoshi said. “Whatever do I do now? Oh Dear!”
The trembling, which up until this point had been localized at Satoshi’s fingers, took over his entire body. He felt sick, nauseous, and was only able to draw breaths in tiny, tiny packets.
Amid all the chaos, Satoshi was glad he had an empty bladder for he was certain he would have emptied himself then and there. Regardless, he didn’t feel any better about his situation, and the nonchalance which had carried him throughout the morning had suddenly faded away. In the middle of his panic attack, he saw somebody, out of the corner of his eye, whip out a camera phone. Oh dear. Satoshi had never had a panic attack before. Would they think he was pretending? Or would they come and help him? Somehow, Satoshi felt that the inhabitants of the café would not care enough to act. To them, he might as well not have been human. He was just an element that served to alleviate the languor of their everyday lives.
Oh dear
Suddenly, Satoshi felt a lurching within his stomach. He felt as though he was on a rollercoaster, with his center of gravity shifting wildly with the twists and turns and the ups and downs. The world began to spin. Here comes the bread, Satoshi thought. And last night’s Tofu.
Just when Satoshi felt he would vomit, he passed out.
………..
Satoshi woke up several minutes later and he felt really, really dizzy. When he came to, he was lying flat on his back and a realization of two facts sent ripples of shock all over his body. One, he was totally naked and two, he had absolutely no idea where he was.
II
When Satoshi woke up, the world was spinning. Where am…what is….huh?
He still felt sick but could feel that his nausea was lessening in intensity. In the midst of his severe disorientation, Satoshi made his hands into fists. Get a grip goddammit.
He could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins, making it a little easier to breathe, making it a little easier to think. He reached for his glasses, the only article he had been wearing before that wasn’t missing.
Putting them on, the world came into a sharp focus, revealing blue skies and fluffy clouds. Satoshi, recuperating, looked around and mused.
The first thing he noticed was the grass. The smell of the freshly cut blades was potent, magnified by the intense humidity, and they were greener than he had ever seen in his life. The field, in which he was presently crouching, seemed to stretch out for a dozen or so feet. It was rectangular, with goalposts at the end of each short side.
A football field, Satoshi grasped. All around the field, there were no stands. Just a few bleachers scattered here and there. Good, good. At least it’s not a stadium.
Beyond the bleachers, Satoshi could see a few buildings. From their sizes and floor plan, he inferred that he was not in a school field, as he had initially assumed. If they had all been monochrome, Satoshi would have been a lot less confident in his assumption. However, they were all different colors. Each color was atypical, vibrant, ostentatious; as if the buildings all strived collectively to cover the entire gamut of a color wheel which contained much more than seven colors.
Okay, Satoshi thought. Not the field of a stadium or school. Seems like a small town. And with that observation, Satoshi rose to his feet. It wasn’t that he suddenly became confident in his naked body. He just needed a better view of things. He needed to see if there was a clothesline which he could pilfer. He had assessed the risk of being seen by someone and judged that to act would be better than to do nothing. The town didn’t seem busy at all. It was eerily quiet.
As Satoshi panned over the landscape, he caught sight of a makeshift swing, hanging from the branch of a thick tree a short distance away. As Satoshi watched the seat of the swing, a black rubber tire, swing slowly in the afternoon breeze, he was suddenly assaulted by intense nostalgia.
I have been here before…or have I? Satoshi was confused. Did the image of the swing trigger feelings linked with real memories? Or was his subconscious making the whole thing up?
Mesmerized, he took a step forward, and suddenly…the world lurched once more. Dizziness came, followed by nausea and then more confusion. But these things passed too quickly for Satoshi to take notice.
Before he realized, he was on the floor of his apartment, back in Neon Tokyo. His glasses were a few feet away from him; before he passed out, he could tell that they smelled of freshly cut grass.
III
The black SUV stopped in front of a café at the corner of 16th Avenue and out came Dr. Nawako Shiba. As her heels clicked against the asphalt of the main street, she caught sight of Kenn, her subordinate, forming a barricade around the café with brightly colored tape.
“No,” Nawako called out. “Not yet.”
Kenn paused, stared at her, shrugged and headed back towards his van which was parked not far from there.
Entering the restaurant, Nawako sighed. A part of her wanted to believe that this was the beginning of the end of her troubles, but another part of her knew better.
The café was small, but fancy. The furniture and décor emulated the minimalist aesthetic of the late 2110s. A style which was quite rare in Neon Tokyo these days. Inspecting the place, Nawako observed that as per her earlier instructions, the place had not been disturbed. Many of the tables were still covered with plates and cups. The air was heavy with caffeine. In the corner, she caught sight of Small Kuro interviewing the waitress. Best to take over before he fucks it up.
“That’s enough Kuro, I’ll take it from here.”
Hearing her voice, the six-foot-tall, three-hundred-pound man rose from his seat, nodded at Nawako in salute and silently headed out of the café.
Before he left, Nawako called out, “Why don’t you help Kenny set up the Boson Scanners?”
Small Kuro grunted in acknowledgement and then walked out. The door slammed shut, signaling his exit.
Nawako sighed, focusing on the waitress before her. Despite the fact that the woman had seen a man vanish into thin air just a couple of hours ago, she did not look scared. If anything, she looked annoyed.
Taking the seat Small Kuro had previously vacated, Nawako said, “I hope he wasn’t too much trouble.”
“Oh no, not at all,” the waitress replied in falsetto. “Its just…”
“Just what?” Nawako asked, lighting up a cigarette. “Don’t mind if I smoke do you?”
“Not at all miss.”
Nawako smiled internally. They never did. “You were saying?”
“Well its just, this is a small business, run by my grandfather. I’m here helping out because, well, he’s very old and could use the help, and work is hard to find in this goddamned city you know?”
Nawako nodded empathetically, though she could not relate.
“Well we don’t get that many customers, and those which came in today to escape the rain must have had a terrible impression of the place.”
“Why do you say that?” Nawako asked.
“Well there was this odd man who came in. Didn’t think too much of him at first. He looked regular enough, lower middle-class type.
“A few minutes later, he starts spewing nonsense and acting funny. And just when I go get grandfather, he just straight up vanishes. Just like that. Into thin air. The customers were freaked out. Hell, even I was…a little.”
The waitress was very animated in her narration and this amused Nawako, though she did not show it.
“Then all the customers up and leave and that’s bad enough, but right when I think I can let the curtain fall on a very weird Wednesday, you lot show up with your lab coats and fancy gadgets, instructing me not to call the police.” The waitress sighed, “It’s just…bad for business is all.”
A moment of silence, and then Nawako said, “I understand miss and I’m very sorry about all of that. The company I represent, IAPBCS, well we’d be very interested in taking down an official report with all the tiny details. It’s nothing serious, we’re just interested in weird little events like this. You can call the cops after if you’d like.”
The waitress stared at Nawako for a while, pouted and then said, “Well gee miss, its just, my memory isn’t what it used to be and…”
Nawako raised her hand into the air, gesturing the waitress to stop talking. With a straight face, she reached into her coat for her purse and said, “How much does a memory cost?”
There was a moment of silence, maybe even awkwardness, then: The waitress’ cherry red lips stretched out into a smile. With a gleeful expression, she reached out with her hands to take the money from Nawako, but, she stopped abruptly, fingers suspended in midair.
Nawako, noticing this, noticing the waitress’ spaced out expression, smiled, this time visibly. It had taken a while, but finally, the psychedelic she had been exhaling into the air from the moment she lit up the cigarette was beginning to take effect.
Putting her money back into her purse, Nawako said, “Now, why don’t you start from the beginning.”
The waitress’ lips continued to be stretched out into a curve, but this time, Nawako couldn’t honestly call it a smile.
……………..
Small Kuro was leaning against the wall outside the café, cracking his knuckles and looking out for signs of any trouble. He could feel his stomach churning and was wondering when that pretty faced witch would let him get something to eat. It had been 4 hours already.
Suddenly the doors of the café swung open and Nawako walked out. She was on the phone, no doubt with one of her superiors.
She’s quite the fashionista, that one, Small Kuro thought. Even though all her skirts were the same design, she never wore one with the same pattern twice. Today it was polka dots, tomorrow it was checkered boxes, on and on and on. Maybe it’s that new nanite polymer fabric, Small Kuro mused. Or maybe she just has that many skirts. Regardless, she must be pretty loaded.
Nawako stood on the sidewalk in front of the café, wrapping up the phone call with HQ.
“Well sir, his Johanssen signature just spiked so he must be back nearby. Also, the waitress has been brain wiped. We are tracking the rest of the witnesses as we speak.”
A moment of silence and then, “Sir, I’ll fix this, I promise.” She sounded timid, maybe even intimidated and Small Kuro though that in the sixteen months he had known and worked with Nawako Shiba, she had never shown half as much vulnerability as she did in those moments.
………………..
Ending the call with HQ, Nawako sighed and stood absent minded on the sidewalk for several moments. She didn’t even notice that Small Kuro had moved behind her with a transparent umbrella to shield her from a fresh bout of acid rain. All her career, she had never made a single mistake. Nothing even as inconsequential as omitting a full-stop from a lab report. And now this…
Snapping back to reality, Nawako summoned her vehicle. There was work to be done. No time for sulking.
IV
The vomiting was bad, but the diarrhea was even worse, and it seemed to have gone on for hours. Finally, when it seemed like his body was giving him a break, Satoshi crawled out of his bathroom and lay on the floor of his living room.
What, in gods name, is going on with me? Satoshi thought about the day’s events. Had all that been a dream? Somehow, he didn’t think so. He knew that something odd was going on, but he didn’t want to believe that everything had truly been as weird as he had perceived. He didn’t want to believe that he had gone from a café in Neon Tokyo, to a suburban location with clean air and clear skies, and now was back to his shithole in Neon Tokyo.
Well, all that’s over now. Now its back to reality. Back to bills and unemployment and intense diarrhea. Hoorah!
Satoshi rose and walked into his kitchen for a glass of water. He was still naked, except, of course, for his glasses. Goddamn it, Satoshi thought. That was my best suit. God freaking damnit.
As Satoshi filled up his severely empty stomach, he thought that he was being rather lax about everything. I don’t know, maybe I ought to go see a doctor.
Setting the glass into the sink and heading towards his couch, Satoshi continued his pondering. Well doctors cost money and I don’t have any of that right now. Also, I wonder how much longer the landlord will let me stay here.
Sitting down on the couch (still naked), Satoshi said out loud, “Maybe I should just call Hawa.”
Satoshi sighed, took off his glasses and set them on a small coffee table in front of him. Okay then. Time to call Hawa. Now where exactly is my cell pho-
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
Someone was at the door, and they did not seem friendly.
Satoshi froze, wondering what exactly he was going to do. Oh dear, who could it possibly be? Police? Loan Sharks? Oh dear.
Then, from behind the door, a voice came, “Sir, my name is Dr. Nawako Shiba. I’m a senior research scientist at the Institute of Applied Physics and Biochemical Sciences. Sir, if you would just let me in to talk to you. I only need five minutes. Please.” The voice was lacking in feeling whatsoever, almost robotic even.
Satoshi was still frozen and was painfully aware of his nakedness. Right on cue, the hair on his brow became matted and damp with sweat. His fingers began to tremble and his heart stared thumping. Satoshi had always been the anxious type but of late, it seemed as though his anxiety was on steroids. In those tense moments, he found a few seconds to wonder if his nascent status as an unemployed individual had anything to do with his severe anxiety.
“Go away!” Satoshi yelled, but he did not sound like himself. He sounded small, frightened and weak.
…………
“Enough of this,” Nawako whispered. “Break it down.”
Small Kuro grunted, took a step back and then kicked the door down. When Nawako walked into the apartment, there was no one to be found.
“We’re too late,” Nawako said, exasperated. “Get the Boson Scanners.”
…………
An hour later, Nawako was seated in the same couch that Satoshi had occupied earlier. She was making a call to HQ and did not look happy about it at all.
“Yes sir well, his Johanssen signature is through the roof. The whole apartment is irradiated.”
“Well sir I-”
“Yes sir, Yes sir”
“Well, hormone analysis of his sweat revealed elevated cortisol levels. I’m beginning to suspect that the singularities are triggered by high stress situations. I think I have a plan.”
V
When Satoshi woke up, he was not in a field. His face was flat against the ground, and tasting cement, he turned over. He could feel the vibrations as various cars zoomed around in a nearby street. Satoshi, searching with his hands, found his glasses and put them on. How did I know they’d be here?
The first thing he noticed was that he was in a narrow corridor, flanked on both sides by high rise buildings. I am in an alleyway.
He rose to his feet and feeling the biting, cold wind, he wished he was not naked. Shivering, Satoshi walked down the alley and towards the street. I’m going to have to ambush someone, Satoshi thought. As it stands, I’m too vulnerable to acid rain.
……..
After several minutes of waiting, Satoshi identified a likely target, moving slowly down the street. It was a short woman, wearing a pink fur coat and looking vaguely annoyed. Okay boy, it’s now or never. Just as the woman passed the entrance of the alleyway, Satoshi jumped out.
She let out a soft scream, but there was no one nearby to help her.
Satoshi, hoping he appeared deranged, put his finger to his lip and said, “Coat, wallet and cellphone! Now!”
The woman gasped and with shaky hands began to take of her coat. “Please don’t hurt me.” When she was done, Satoshi put on the coat, which was satisfyingly warm, and took her purse, which was satisfyingly thick. Good, I can do with these.
“Now stay right there,” Satoshi said. He began to back away from the woman slowly. “Stay. Right. Fucking. There!”
When the woman judged that Satoshi was a safe distance away from her, she started to scream, “Help me! Someone! Anyone!”
And that was Satoshi’s cue to run. Like the wind, he made his way away from the scene of his crime.
…….
Satoshi, wearing nothing but a pink fair coat and his glasses, walked into what he perceived to be an idle restaurant and took a table. The waiter walked up to him with a menu, but Satoshi was too irritated to go through a list of foods whose names meant nothing to him. “I’ll have your most expensive meal, thank you.”
“Right away sir,” the waiter said politely.
Satoshi, watching the waiter walk away with his order, felt a strange satisfaction. The benefits of a life of crime, I guess.
“Say,” Satoshi said, drawing the attention of another waiter who was passing by, “Do you mind turning that off?”
The waiter, following Satoshi’s line of sight, realized that he was referring to the TV. “Yes of course sir.” There was no one around to complain.
Satoshi had no qualms with reality shows. He just didn’t want to see his face flash over the screen in a news report. Enough time had passed for the police to have reconstructed an image of his face from his victim’s memory. Hopefully she had reported the case to the police, to the actual police, for the alternatives were worse. Far worse.
Satoshi looked around the restaurant. It seemed nice enough. Not too big, not too small. Not minimalist, not maximalist. Not quite retro, not quite futurist. Just the right combination of everything.
When the waiter showed up with Satoshi’s meal, something which looked like cheese but smelled like wine and was no larger than a cube of sugar, Satoshi asked if there was a phone he could use.
“Of course sir,” the waiter said, and extricated a cellphone from his back pocket. “Enjoy your meal sir.”
Satoshi flipped the phone open and held it in his hands for a long time, thinking, thinking, thinking. Then, with conviction, he dialed a number.
The phone rang once, rang twice and then someone picked up. “Good afternoon, you’ve reached the offices of MoshiMoshi Towers, how may I help you?” The voice was feminine, formal and clear.
“Yes, I’d like to speak with your CEO.”
A pause and then, “Just a moment sir.” The call was placed on hold as Satoshi was treated to classical music.
Finally, after several moments, during which Satoshi wondered if they hoped he would hang up out of frustration, the call was taken off hold and the same voice said, “I’m sorry sir but you’ll have to-”
“Listen here,” Satoshi said, interrupting the speaker, “Just tell her it’s Sato.”
Another pause, and then, “Hold on sir.” This time there was no music, just a long, ominous silence.
Finally, a voice came, “Sato? Is it really you?”
Satoshi sighed and said, “Yes, it is, Hawa.”
“Hmm, well what can I do for you? I’m a busy woman you know?”
Immediately, Satoshi felt his blood boil with anger. You don’t talk to me for five years and when I finally reach out to you, this is the attitude I receive?
“Umm, well, well…,” Satoshi stammered, trying to form a coherent sentence. This was not how he expected the call to go. He had thought that his sister would be surprised to hear from him, but it had been three years and the witch was still cold as ice.
“I don’t have any money you know?” Hawa said. “Maybe if you had spent your time working hard instead of doing dirty things in the dark and you would not have to beg me this way. You’ve wasted my time enough. Goodbye.”
The line rang with a consistent dull tone, dead, and Satoshi nearly smashed the phone to bits. He was so angry he could feel the vein in his temple throbbing. The waiter, noticing his distress, called out from across the bar, “Is everything alright sir?”
The question prompted Satoshi to regain an awareness of his surroundings, to regain an awareness of himself, to regain an awareness of his emotions. “I’m fine,” he replied, sounding only somewhat fine.
Feeling his anger simmer down, Satoshi returned to his regular scheduled programming; brooding. The call with his sister, her attitude and her words, brought back deep embarrassing memories. He couldn’t help but reflect on them.
In their childhood, Hawa and Sato had been thick as thieves. He wasn’t particularly good at fighting bullies, but he was good at absorbing blows and she was good at cleaning up wounds. They lived on the drug infested streets of Neon Tokyo, trying merely to survive. Sato worked as an errand boy and Hawa found a job as a secretary. They were far from rich, but they were happy, for they had each other.
All that changed when Hawa’s boss took a liking to her.
They got married and got rich, and once Hawa had been to the playgrounds of the elite, once she had tasted their foods and their wines, once she had worn their clothes, she began to think like them, and suddenly, poor old Satoshi was not enough for her.
Over the years, they grew apart. A reaction that was precipitated by Satoshi’s bitterness and jealousy. Whenever Satoshi saw his sister on a giant billboard or on the cover of some magazine, he felt acrimonious. One day, he swore, he would be rich. He too, would have money and power and glory, and he would force his sister to acknowledge him. But Satoshi worked and worked and worked and for all his troubles, nothing was less expensive. His list of bills simply grew longer.
Satoshi, thinking that his sister’s inexplicable wealth and good fortune was inextricably linked with the criminal world of Tokyo Underground, began to look for opportunities in such desperate places. He needed to get rich, one way or another. He needed to show his evil little sister.
Well, show her he did, but it was not in the way he expected.
It will just be this once, the Agent said. After, you can find something much less…emasculating. Satoshi had his misgivings, but on that fateful day three years ago, he put on the gimp suit, headed down to that sex club in Tokyo Underground, went on all fours and started oinking like a pig.
Oink, Oink, Oink! Satoshi went. Though he looked and felt extremely stupid, Satoshi was somewhat glad he had a pig mask on. At least no one could see how much he was red with embarrassment. They could assume, but they couldn’t see.
You won’t have to do anything sexual, the Agent said. It’s just, the patrons of Tokyo Underground have weird kinks. Some are turned on by the sound of animals. You simply need to play the part as they do their business.
Satoshi, oinking on all fours, was beginning to regret the whole thing. He hoped that the night would end sooner, rather than later. He hoped that he would be paid very well for his troubles. As It turned out, the size of his compensation would be the least of his problems.
Halfway through the night, while Satoshi was still crawling about the rooms, hearing the moans of the Neon Tokyo elite and breathing in their suffocating perfumes, he began to feel very thirsty. Well, the lights are out and everyone’s busy. Wouldn’t hurt to take of the mask just for a little glass of water.
Satoshi was wrong, it hurt a lot. While he was still drinking, someone bumped into the wall, inadvertently flicking the light switch on. At once, the rooms were illuminated and all the members at the orgy were visible. Of course, they were all safe, for they were masked. All except for Satoshi.
Realizing he had been exposed, Satoshi bolted out of the club and run back up to Neon Tokyo, gimp suit and all. Oh Dear! What excellent luck I have. What excellent fucking luck!
Satoshi took more than a couple of sleeping pills that night, hoping to drown his troubles in the unconscious, hoping that when he woke up, everything would be behind him. Well, in this, as in many things that night, he was far from the truth.
Satoshi woke up, dressed up and went to work only to find out that he had been let go. They told him they were downsizing. They told him they would give him a sizeable severance package and a glowing recommendation. But Satoshi knew why he had been fired. Satoshi knew his recommendation would be worthless.
For every job Satoshi applied for, at every interview he attended, they told him he was a promising candidate. They told him they would call him back. But, they never did.
The individuals at that orgy down in Tokyo Underground were the very same individuals who run large business and corporations up in Neon Tokyo. They knew Satoshi’s face, they knew who he was and where he had been, and they knew who he was related to.
Haven been blacklisted, Satoshi was shut off from most white-collar jobs in Neon Tokyo. He was afraid he would never find any work which did not involve washing dishes or polishing shoes. In those moments of despair, he thought about calling his sister and asking for help. Before he got to it however, he found out that some of the companies he had been rejected from belonged to none other than Hawa Murakami.
With this realization came new levels of anger, came new depths of bitterness, came burgeoning pride. So that’s how it is, Satoshi thought with indignation. He knew Hawa was reacting this way because he had humiliated her among her circle of “friends,” but she was clearly going overboard. At first Satoshi was a little pleased that he had caused his sister pain, but soon, the pressures of unemployment soon drowned out the small delight he had regarding the whole situation. He needed a job, and he needed one badly.
Eventually, he found something to do, and though it barely kept food on the table, Satoshi was satisfied. Right up until he had been fired: No long talk, no two weeks notification, no severance package. Goddamned bastards. Satoshi would have liked to take action against his employers, but he didn’t have enough money to contemplate luxuries such as legal action. And to add salt to his wounds, Satoshi was sure that him being let go had absolutely nothing to do with his sister or the debacle in Tokyo Underground. The economy was just fucked up like that.
……..
Sitting in the restaurant, Satoshi took a bite of his expensive meal which looked like cheese but was not cheese. It tasted like one of the internal organs of a ruminant, as if it had been doused in bile.
Satoshi, grimacing, snapped his fingers to draw the attention of the waiters. “Bill, please.”
“Right away sir,” and the waiter walked over. Satoshi noticed his facial features for the first time. He looked western, with deep set large eyes, a square jaw and sleek blond hair which had been curled back. He’s either a robot, a clone or a genetically modified human. The latter two seem unlikely.
“That would be twenty thousand Yen sir. Would you like a recei–”
BAM
The waiter’s head exploded open, spraying Satoshi and the immediate vicinity with blood. Satoshi screamed, and ducked under the table.
The other waiter, the one standing behind the bar, looked dumbfounded. He was frozen in place, with an expression which was equal parts amusement and equal parts shock.
“What the hell are you doing?” Satoshi yelled. “Get down!”
The waiter reacted too late. His forehead exploded open, and he fell, dragging the cash register along with him as he went down.
Oh dear! Can this day get any worse? Satoshi knew he had to run. He did not know the angle at which the shooter was positioned. He might as well have been a sitting duck.
Alright, alright, alright, time to dip! Satoshi moved slightly, adjusting his body and his positioning. He was now oriented like an athlete on a racetrack before the starting pistol went off.
When the time comes, I’m seizing my moment. Satoshi knew he could very well be shot down as he run, but he judged that it was better than doing nothing. As an individual who was generally indecisive, Satoshi had come to find that decision taking was a lot easier when your life was at stake.
…………
Nawako picked up the phone on the third ring.
“They have engaged with the target.”
She hung up. Good. Very good.
…………
In the beginning, Satoshi had run faster than he ever thought possible. The wondrous effects of adrenaline, he thought. Now, he was beginning to lose stamina.
He did not know where he was running to, but when he realized that his assailants, plural, were pursuing him, he just kept on running. If I don’t escape soon, they are going to catch up with me. From the few glances Satoshi stole of them, he could tell that they were athletic types. Very well built. They would catch him for sure.
Zigzagging pass pedestrians on the street, Satoshi took a staircase downwards. The subway, maybe I can get into one of the trains. But as Satoshi spiraled down into the train station, he could feel that his pursuers had come to be just a few feet away from him. They were chanting something in unison. It sounded like ‘Gruu.’
Finally, Satoshi reached the platform of the station. Just as he was about to bolt through the collapsing doors of a train, he was tackled from behind. His assailant was huge, several times more massive than he was, and he was easily overpowered.
The assassin wrestled with Satoshi and turned him over. Now they were face to face, both still on the ground.
“Gruu!” the assassin yelled.
“Please don’t kill me.”
“Gruu!” the assassin yelled again, this time with more anger.
“Please I…what do you want?”
“Gruu! Gruu! Gruu!”
Satoshi wondered why he was still alive. Maybe he wasn’t a target after all. Then what do they want?
“Gruu!”
Satoshi felt like the assassin was trying to communicate with him but lacked the lexicon or the grammar to express himself. It was a desperate situation, and Satoshi thought that if they soon did not arrive at a concord, the man would kill him out of frustration.
“Gruu,” Satoshi whispered back, and at once the man on top of Satoshi became very animated, excited, fervent even.
“Gruu, gruu gruuuuu,” the man said. While this was ongoing, several bystanders stopped to observe them, trying to make sense of the scene.
Suddenly, a gunshot rang out, and the other assassin fell to the ground, dead. All around, people began to scream, and scatter. A second gunshot rang, and Satoshi felt the impact as it made contact with the man on top of him. “Gruuuuu,” the assassin whispered. His head fell limply on Satoshi’s chest. He was dead.
Someone nearby was speaking, but Satoshi could barely make out the words. He was in shock, and his ears were ringing with the echoes of the gunshots.
“Quick, inject him with the sedative before he creates a singularity.”
Before Satoshi went under, he thought about the assassin’s desperation and his last words. Satoshi could sense that the man had an intense, maybe even primal, need to communicate, but he just couldn’t. His eyes were so very sad, Satoshi thought.
Then, a warm darkness enveloped him.
VI
When Satoshi regained consciousness, he was in a slow-moving car. The first sensory stimulus he gained awareness of was smell. The car smelled nice, like roses, and places he had never been. Then, he opened his eyes. He was in the backseat and looking ahead, he caught sight of the driver’s silhouette. What a monster of a man.
Satoshi then looked to the left and found that he was seated next to an incredibly beautiful woman. Satoshi thought that she might have been even more beautiful if she wasn’t wearing black lipstick, or heavy eyeliner.
Nawako, feeling that she was being watched, turned and said, “Oh you’re awake.”
“Wher-”
“Shh, don’t talk, just rest. You’re safe now.” And with that, she injected Satoshi with another dose of the sedative.
Satoshi thought that he should have been panicking, but he felt as though something was literally blocking the impulses to his brain, making it harder to issue an appropriate response to the situation.
Giving in to extreme sleepiness, Satoshi remembered the words of the pretty woman sitting next to him. Yes, I’m safe. Yes. He felt peaceful, like a shoal of Clownfish swimming through an infinite ocean with no predators.
……..
As the car drove back to HQ, Nawako watched the middle-aged man sleeping peacefully next to her. What an ugly pathetic thing. Let’s see you get away from me again.
Nawako turned away and focused instead on the skyscrapers of Neon Tokyo zooming past her. Her plan had been nothing but a success. As she had correctly predicted, the attack by the Gruu Men triggered a fight or flight response, instead of a panic response. Cortisol levels in the subject were too low to trigger a singularity. Next, she showed up with her team, saving him from his would-be assassins. Killing the Gruu Men had allowed her to gain the subjects trust, while simultaneously eliminating the need to pay them. Classic two birds one stone.
Now, the subject was heavily sedated and wasn’t going to teleport anyway. At HQ, they would place him inside a faraday cage. There, he would be free to produce as much cortisol in the world as he wanted. He wouldn’t go anywhere.
VII
When Satoshi woke up, he was wearing white clothes, and was seated at a table in a small, dark room. Wondering where he was, he consulted his memory, but all he could retrieve were vague, scattered fragments.
Finally, he recalled visions of monochrome cafés, blood splattered restaurants, assassins and beautiful women in slow cars. With these visions came feelings; terror, safety, satisfaction, melded together in a grotesque papier-mâché.
Satoshi looked around the room. There was, what he assumed was a one-way mirror, lodged in the wall directly across from him. The four corners of the ceiling each had a camera. Big Brother is watching, he thought ominously. To his left, Satoshi could see a water dispenser, positioned like a sentinel.
Well, am I free to go? Satoshi was not bound or restrained in anyway, but somehow, he knew that the answer was ‘no.’ As the effects of the sedative wore off, Satoshi’s anxiety returned to him like a long lost friend. Who are these people? Am I in trouble?
Suddenly, the door to the room swung open and the pretty woman he had met earlier in the car walked in.
When she entered, she took the seat opposite to Satoshi and said, “Hello Mr. Murakami. I’m Dr. Nawako Shiba. I was at your apartment the other time.” She laughed. Satoshi thought it was forced and unnatural and it made him feel uncomfortable.
Satoshi faked a wan smile and then said, “I vaguely remember.”
“Before we begin our conversation in earnest,” Nawako said, “I’d like you to know you’re not in any danger whatsoever. The men who tried to hurt you are gone now.”
“Who were they?”
“All that will be revealed soon.”
With that, Satoshi burst into tears, “What…what’s happening to me?”
Nawako, faking empathy, reached across the table to hold his hands. “I’m afraid, Sato, that you’ve been the victim of an experiment gone wrong.”
Sato…not many people called him that. It felt weird to hear her say it. “An experiment?” Satoshi whimpered.
Withdrawing her hands, Nawako sighed and said, “Yes, an experiment involving quantum entanglement.”
Hearing that term, though Satoshi barely understood what it meant, he groaned.
“Look,” Nawako went on. “You probably wouldn’t understand the specifics. All you need to know is that the particles which make up your physical being are inextricably linked with a collection of unstable particles which have been lost in space. Whenever the particles make a space-time jump, so do you, and vice versa.”
“So you mean to tell me that I’ve actually been teleporting?”
“Yes,” Nawako said curtly. “What did you think it was?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Satoshi said. “I thought perhaps a very detailed dream.”
“No, no, no,” Nawako said. “You’ve been jumping around Neon Tokyo.”
“Neon Tokyo? I don’t know about that.”
“What do you mean?”
“I think I went elsewhere. Outside the Mist.”
Nawako stared at Satoshi with a certain curiosity. Were the singularities affecting his brain cells? Everyone knew nothing existed outside the mist that surrounded Neon Tokyo. Neon Tokyo was the only city in the world, surrounded on all sides by the leftovers of a nuclear winter. A city built around a billion-megaton antimatter bomb. The only people who lived in Neon Tokyo were the foolish, the desperate, the poor and the reckless. All the rest lived in a satellite cloud that floated above the city in geostationary orbit, well outside the blast radius of the bomb.
Nawako was born in a space station in the Satellite Cloud. When she first learned of Neon Tokyo, she wondered why anyone would be so foolish to build a city around a bomb. This was before her teachers taught her that the world had run through most of its finite natural resources and that antimatter was a great source of electrical energy.
No one knows where the antimatter bomb came from. It simply appeared, suddenly, at the center of Old Tokyo. The Japanese, angry, blamed the Americans, the Americans blamed the Chinese, the Chinese blamed the Russians, and the Russians blamed extraterrestrials.
Unable to diffuse political tensions, there was an all-out war. Every country fired nuclear warheads at every other country except for one exception; Old Tokyo. Nobody wanted to destabilize the antimatter bomb, causing an explosion which would erase the earth from the fabric of reality. In time, there was nothing left, and the survivors gathered to make a home for themselves in the only place where trees would grow; they called it Neon Tokyo. Everywhere else was a barren wasteland.
When Nawako turned seventeen, she obtained her PhD and flew down from the Satellite Cloud to live in Neon Tokyo. She realized that the city was barely governed, was barely regulated and would be a wonderful place to carry out experiments which were deemed “unethical” elsewhere. Also, Tokyo Underground, a dark and decadent reflection of Neon Tokyo which could only be found by following a ghost subway system, was a very good place to blow money.
Nawako liked living in Neon Tokyo. The fact that all of it could disappear in a bang the moment the antimatter particles became a little too unstable thrilled her. Also, she was away from her family and their nagging and it excited her to know she was living in a way which gave them constant distress.
Life in Neon Tokyo had been great, right up until she created the problem sitting directly across from her. Now, it was all going to shit.
“What makes you think you were outside the mist?” Nawako asked.
“Well, the place I went, was…” he struggled, trying to find the right words. “Was not crowded. It had, green grass and fresh air and clear blue skies.”
Now Nawako was very skeptical. It wasn’t a description of anywhere in Neon Tokyo. He must have hallucinated the experience.
“Well,” Nawako said, changing the subject, “the fact of the matter is, we can’t take away these new…experiences of yours. Your particles are entangled forever. Even after you die, they still will be. You’ll have to live out the rest of your life in this facility. Outside it, there’s no guarantee you won’t teleport directly into the path of a speeding train, or into the core of the sun, or forward 500 years in time. It’s a miracle you’ve survived this long.”
Satoshi, hearing this, bowed down his head. He was extremely melancholic. Oh dear god what have I done to deserve this?
“Look on the bright side,” Nawako said. “At least your whole body is entangled. Can you imagine what it would be like to teleport and leave your heart behind?”
Nawako rose up and left the room. She didn’t feel a shred of sadness for having ruined his life. She was simply content to have him in custody.
VIII
The next day, Satoshi was let out of the room and was shown around the facility. It was a large space, with the best artificial grass he had ever seen. Grass almost as good as what he had encountered earlier. They had nice food too. The only problem was that he was sharing the space with an ape. A very well-behaved ape, they told him. But Satoshi didn’t know what to believe.
In the beginning Satoshi was still sad and barely heard them as they oriented him about the facility. He was thinking about the loss of his freedom. Later, when they left him to his own devices, he walked around the compound, trying out the various amenities.
He went to the swimming pool and had a few good laps. Then, he tried to shoot a ball through some hoops. Though he failed miserably at that, he felt good.
Then, he discovered that his housemate, the ape, was not only proficient in sign language, but was an excellent chess player as well. After a few rounds, many of which involved episodes in which the ape attempted to shift the pieces when he thought Satoshi was not looking, they retired to the TV room and watched various shows until nighttime.
Then, at 10pm, the buzzer rang. It was time to go to bed. That night, as Satoshi lay in a bed whose comfort he could not fathom, he found himself smiling. This ain’t so bad, he thought. The food is nice, the pool is nice, the TV shows are good, hell, I even saw some pornographic magazines in the library. Even the ape ain’t bad. Needs a little training in sportsmanship sure, but he ain’t bad. And you know the best part? No rent!
That night, Satoshi went to bed with a smile on his face. He thought that some good fortune had come out of his troubles in the end and felt immediately stupid for lamenting his loss of freedom earlier in the day. Freedom is overrated anyway. Just think about lab rats. Some of them have the chance to bite the lab technicians and run away, but they don’t. I always wondered why, but now I know. Though they may be subjected to shock therapy and forced to run laps in a maze, they do so willingly because to them, nothing in this world is as sure as the block of cheese they receive in the end. The cheese is worth everything. Say, this ain’t so bad.
……….
When Satoshi woke up, he felt invigorated. He hadn’t been this carefree since he was a kid. He felt light as a feather and he was ready. Ready to take on the facility and its challenges. Ready to run laps up and down the pool and beat the cheating ape once and for all. He’d get to all that for sure, but first, there was something he needed to do.
“Say,” Satoshi said, drawing the attention of one of the lab technicians, “I’d like to make a phone call. If it would be possible.”
“Of course sir, right this way.”
In the telephone both, Satoshi rang the number slowly, making sure to savor every moment. He felt amazing every time his fingers made contact with the dialer, every time the keypad beeped.
“You’ve reached the offices of MoshiMoshi Towers, how may I help you?”
“Get me Hawa. Tell her its Sato. Tell her its urgent.”
As he was placed on hold, Satoshi wondered if his sister would be able to tell that he was smiling over the phone. I sure hope she can, that chubby witch.
“What is it this time,” Hawa said.
“Well Hawa, I know you’re busy or whatever, so I’ll just go straight to the point. It hasn’t been an easy life for me up until this point. While you frolicked around Neon Tokyo with that pig you call a husband, I was clawing through dirt, trying to find my next meal.
“Well, certain new comforts have afforded me the luxury to finally say this to your face. I hate you. I hate you more than darkness hates daylight. I hate you more than you can ever imagine. I hope you get cancer and die a slow painful death. And tell that tool of a husband that he stinks and looks like a tennis ball.”
Satoshi ended his diatribe. Catching his breath, he hoped he could hear his sister burst into tears over the telephone. Instead, all she said was, “I see. Are you done?”
“Yes!” Satoshi yelled, masking his disappointment.
“Very well,” Hawa replied. Then, she hung up.
Satoshi stood in the booth long after the call was over. Had his tirade been ineffective? Surely not. Surely Hawa’s cold attitude was nothing other than an act to hide how much he had hurt her. Yes, that was it.
Feeling happy once again, Satoshi walked back to the training area. Where the hell did that monkey go? Owes me another game.
…………..
A few hours later, Satoshi was summoned to the interrogation room by one of the assistants. When he arrived, there was a bald man seated at the table. No, not just bald; absolutely hairless. Satoshi took a seat opposite to him and wondered what was going on.
The man, seeing that he was joined at the table by Satoshi, smiled.
“Hello Mr. Satoshi. My name is Dr.Clearlove. I’m just here to perform a routine check up on you. Over the course of our discussion, I must ask that you speak slowly. I left my hearing aids at home and all I can do is read your lips.” Then, he smiled. A smile which was too wide and revealed too many teeth.
“Okay sir,” Satoshi said. “But where’s Dr.Shiba?”
“Mmm? Nawako? She has been let go.”
Satoshi, clearly appalled, said, “That’s very unfortunate.” After a pause he added, “Why?”
“Well, she didn’t get along with the company’s new owners. Especially since she messed her last project up. I wouldn’t worry about her if I were you. She’s on her way back to the Satellite Cloud to live with her family. I’m sure she’ll be fine. She amassed more than a small fortune working here, you know?”
“Well, okay,” Satoshi said, still visibly confused.
“If it’s okay with you, I’d like for us to resume the assessment.”
“Of course,” Satoshi said, immediately becoming attentive.
What proceeded were back and forth discussions about Satoshi’s health, his wellbeing, his general state of mind and trivial questions about feelings like nostalgia. The questions were simple enough, harmless enough, and before he knew it, the assessment was over.
“Thank you very much for your time,” Dr.Clearlove said.
“No problem,” Satoshi replied.
“Is there anything else?”
“Nothing actually—well, you mentioned that the company had been sold.”
“Yes of course,” Dr.Clearlove said. “To none other than the Nagatomo family.”
“Alright,” Satoshi acknowledged. And with that, Dr.Clearlove bowed and walked out of the facility. Satoshi was once again free to do whatever he wanted.
………
Later, while skimming through a playboy magazine from the 20th Century, Satoshi felt ill at ease. He thought that something relevant had happened earlier in the day, but he had been too absent minded to notice it.
Putting the magazine aside, Satoshi became pensive. What was it? Then, it struck him, like lightening above a thunderdome.
The family which had purchased IAPBCS–the Nagatomo family. When Clearlove mentioned the name earlier, it had seemed almost vaguely familiar. But now, Satoshi felt anxious. Nagatomo was the family name of his sister’s husband. Were they the same people who had purchased the company? How many Nagatomos live in Neon Tokyo? There could be many, Satoshi thought, but somehow, he felt not enough of them would have the capital to purchase a research institution. Especially one as huge as this.
Suddenly Satoshi broke into cold sweat. No, this cant be happening. She’s out to get me, that witch is out to get me. How did she even find out?
Then it came; a full-blown panic attack. Satoshi sank to his knees and found it difficult to draw breaths. What do I do? What do I fucking do? She’ll destroy me for sure. For sure.
Suddenly, the lights began to flicker on and off, wildly, maddeningly, uncontrollably. What now? Satoshi wondered.
He didn’t wonder long.
Severe dizziness set on Satoshi, as if he had been struck on the head. He felt once more that the world was lurching. Yet, there was something off. It wasn’t lurching all the way through. Satoshi felt like was caught between two worlds, between two realities, and every time he tried to settle in one, the other pulled him back.
Then, all the lights in the facility exploded, putting the whole place in darkness. When this happened, Satoshi felt that the bonds which had been holding him back had finally been broken. The world lurched, and Satoshi lost consciousness.
IX
When Satoshi came to, the sun was shining, blazing in fact, and he was naked.
When his nausea subsided enough, he reached around for his glasses and put them on. Standing up, Satoshi looked around. He felt like a stranger in a strange land, surrounded on all sides by tall, thick blades of grass. Grass which grew in all directions as far as the eye could see.
Where the hell am I?
Suddenly, Satoshi was cloaked by a large shadow. There was something behind him. Slowly, he turned around and when he caught sight of it, he screamed.
No, no, no, this can’t be happening. This can’t be fucking happening.
The sabretooth tiger stared at him with furious eyes, and then snarled in response.
The End
The Unfinished Volumes 