Whew, the prologue's up.
By the way, your critic is still appreciated. I get this feeling there's something off with my writing.
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I hated it. I hated this place. I thought it served the purpose of telling people the terrible truth in a soft manner so it wouldn't hurt that much while it only hurt more. "You are a shadow of yourself, sustained only by a mountain of pills, a worthless cripple who should be isolated with the likes of its own in a secured location for a medical corporation to perform experiments on," that's how I heard his words at the moment.
He could of been blunt, which was even more depressing because apparently, I didn't deserve it in his eyes. And I know for sure his tongue isn't silver all the time; all staff here knows regular human speech despite being sugary.
Hell, there was one nurse so over the line I just couldn't stand her. Once she was on the night duty, and I couldn't close my eyes. Silence was just freaking me out, so I asked her to take the heart monitor off the mute. She was rather surprised and tried to get my reasoning through way too polite questions. Being tired of it, I blew up:
"You wanna know why? Aight, this beat in my chest feels kinda dope, so if I get it playing, it's cash. Know what I mean? Like rolling in a caddie dropping the bass, ICU style. Chicks dig this stuff, know what I mean? Besides, if I suddenly die here, I might even ignore it, you know? No doom-dooms in the chest, well, not like it's the first time. Imagine the rustle in the heavens: "Hisao ditched death, what a douche! Who does he think we are?" Upon hearing a long beep, though, I'll know for sure it's time to go. Convenient, eh?"
She was laughing aloud by the end of my tirade, and her motherly attitude was completely gone from there on. She even called me Joker instead of Nakai. Joking death, what a douche indeed.
Remembering it brought me enough joy to throw the gloomy mood off and call Dad.
"Good evening, Hisao."
"Hi, Dad. Doctor told me about Yamaku."
"Oh," I sense a pause in his voice. "So are you looking forward to it?"
"Dad. I have friends back here. This Yamaku, how far is it?"
"Well, not close, but still not half Honshu away. Look, son, can I be straight with you?"
His voice sounded extremely tired so I agreed. Had had my load of beating around the bush in the hospital anyways.
"Good. Honestly, me and Mom couldn't imagine what to do when you're released. We have to work, so home schooling is out of question. We barely have enough time to look after Yoshio", that's my little bro. Poor boy, I wonder how he's holding up there. "Your meds don't exactly cost nothing, so we can't hire tutors neither. Yamaku, though... If Genetesis themselves are overseeing the place, it must be a medical heaven. In a good sense, of course. You'll be safe there."
"But Dad, I had friends! People I cared for!"
"Hisao, ask yourself if they cared for you because honestly, I don't recall you speaking of any visitors in the last three months."
"I won't even be able to see you if I'm far away!"
"That's not true, actually. Genetesis pays for all students' treatment and education and government has support initiatives of its own for families with kids in such institutions, so hopefully we'll be able to lay off some work and come see you once in a while."
Bro would be getting to see his family too.
"I'll need to sleep on it," I answered with an empty voice, unable to yell. I felt surrounded.
"Listen, Hisao. It's your choice. If you don't want this, we will think of something, I promise. But for now... it's the best we can give you."
His voice felt as void as mine. Surely he wanted to say sorry, so I never gave him a chance. He had nothing to apologize for.
"Okay, I'll decide tomorrow. Genetesis are going my way, so I'm a bit curious what they'll have to say."
"Oh, are they already? They called us too, seemed to be nice people."
"Right. Well, I love you all. Don't say anything to Mom, I'm not ready yet. Bye."
"Bye."
Short beeps in the phone were much more organized than the audized beating of my heart. Which was really dope, by the way.
Having a hive of thoughts to go through, I grabbed my tablet and headed to the recreation zone. Curiosity visits at first, a useless habit later, it had evolved into a ritual of some kind. One could come to the R-zone to watch TV or to meet people and socialize. Except every channel had a live stream on the Internet and the wireless covered every corner, making the television just an excuse. Yet so many used it to meet others it raised doubts about Japan being a country of cowards among. To think and have ideas inspired by the constant human buzzing was the usual reason to come here, although yesterday I walked down the beige hallway hoping to find a certain person, the one who taught me the proper usage of the R-zones.
It needs to be said I had two major enemies here, namely loneliness and complete indolence, so to hit two birds with one stone I took up reading just like father had advised. It proved to be a good activity for the brain, but the body still suffered. So as soon as I was allowed to stand up, I started strolling the room corner to corner like a prisoner. And a prisoner I was, both of this place and my own fragile body. At some point it became clear there wasn't much stuff on the floor I could trip over, so with a little practice it'd be possible to read while walking. Soon I was doing this. It never brought any sense of going back to normal, but at least my body was busy, at least I wasn't letting it decay further, and realizing this alone made the headaches lighter and the sleep deeper. As a bonus, the doctor stared at my cardiograms like puzzles until I told him what was going on. That was the only time I saw him pissed, by the way.
When spring came and staff let me spend some time outside, I abused the new possibility to its limit. I grew bored of the room long ago and started going to the hall. In fact, I strolled there so often people started greeting me and trying to make conversations, which was exactly against my will. Despite having been neighbors with them for a couple of months, I barely knew any of them and planned to keep it that way since the books were nicer, so I gladly took every chance of escaping outside. Fresh air was appreciated, too.
One of my getaways came to be particularly satisfying. A sunny morning in the background under still naked but ready to go green trees with almost nobody around? Awesome. A fresh book straight from the torrents? Double awesome. Feeling a heavy stare on yourself? Well, not so much. Annoyed, I took my eyes off the text and laid them on the stranger sitting on the bench in front of me. He didn't even flinch, continuing to study me as he was earlier. Male, thirty-five to forty, brunette with a lot of hoar and an extremely short haircut. Wide chest, short thick fingers, gray eyes, square chin. Yeah, this one doesn't look like a patient. I wondered what observations he had made.
After a few seconds he broke the silence:
"Watched you for some time. You into books and walks?"
"Yeah. You into sitting and staring?"
"True. Not much else to do in my condition anyway."
Something in his tone invited me to continue.
"Is that so. Are you me, by any chance?"
"Unless you were having problems with broken ribs lately, no."
"Nothing like that, I'm afraid."
"Nailed it. What's your reading?"
"Lem's "Fiasco"."
"Woah there. Hard stuff for a highschooler."
"Hard place for a highschooler."
"Fair enough. Any thoughts on it?"
Pretty amazing how fast we were able to make a conversation, given my obviously ultrasocial personality as of late. We just playing verbal pong, throwing short forced phrases at each other in bored tones. Having decided he would get more that he had asked, I started:
"Well, apart from possible scenarios of social evolution and a fresh take on first contact problem, it appears to tell about human relations: you either are repelled from a person, attracted into a stalemate of a sort when you can't get closer of further, or you destroy your vision of said person, losing a bit of yourself in the process."
"Huh. Ever been to a recreation zone?"
"Sorry?"
"That place where people watch TV. Each wing has one. Come there and watch."
"What, the TV?"
"No. Well, maybe that too, but it won't amuse you as much."
With that he stood up and left.
Of course I went to the R-zone that evening and watched people lie to each other and themselves. It felt… amusing, just like he said, so the next day I found him on the same bench and we talked some more, and the again day after day. He told me a thing or two about his life.
Being a firefighter wasn’t that hard, he said. Waking up every morning to the possibility of being dead by dusk was somewhat easy to get used to. Not so easy for the family, though. Kids quickly learned there was more to his job than “daddy saves people”, wife wouldn’t want him to go, especially after the accidents. It was just some minor burns at first, but getting a concussion during training made her worry much more. The last time his team among others was dealing with a huge fire in a warehouse when a local gas line exploded, so now he was sitting in the yard talking to me.
These stories I had to pull out of him word by word, but it was well worth it. Every time he would derail into short anecdotes from his everyday life, and those somehow brought me inspiration. Maybe it was normal life I needed to hear about to deal with my situation.
He was much more eager to discuss books or news. (Yeah, I formed a habit of going to the R-zone every day to watch the news on my tablet. No idea why I couldn’t do it in my room.) He had an opinion on everything, and an original one. It didn’t mean I agreed with him all the time, so we had gone through a couple of pretty heated disputes.
A fresh point of view was exactly what I needed.
So yeah, this is close to ridiculous. I'm sitting here on a bench with my mouth slightly opened, observing two figures standing in front of me. Two figures in black suits. A man and a woman.
"Hello, how may I be of service?"
Impressive, Hisao. Where did you learn all these manners, I wonder?
"Shotaro Endo,"
"Megumi Tada,"
"Genetesis Incorporated. We were looking for Hisao Nakai."
Two suited representatives for one potential student. Are you sure you aren't overplaying it?
"You've, uh, found him," I shift to the side to clear enough space for both of them. "What will we be talking about?"
"Yamaku, of course. It's our job to go and advertise the place so good that if we would be selling fast food, there'd be none left by the end of our rant."
Endo is actually a pretty cool guy under his dress code armor. When he starts talking, it's so smooth you don't want to interrupt this train of finely woven phrases. Megumi's able to do this, only to continue this train like nothing ever happened. They are good at this, must be one experienced team.
Our topic quickly slides to all the pretty things the Academy can offer, and while the pair does their best to get me interested in the place, I drift away. After all, it doesn't even matter what they say. If yesterday morning I was quite sure in my answer, today I am adamant.
The recreation zone. A huge tumor on the hall’s body. Wide screen on one wall, wide windows on the opposite. Couple dozens of chairs, several sofas along the windows. There he was, relaxing in one watching people chat and pay no attention to the TV whatsoever. He started visiting cardio some weeks ago, stating the traumatology was “plagued with boredom”. I wonder how always he managed to get a sofa for himself alone despite or R-zone being filled with people to the point when some needed to stand.
“Hola, big man.”
“What up, boy,” we never learned each other’s names. “Anything on the news?”
“Figured I’d ask you.”
“It’s set to 2nd channel, only stupid shows in prime time.”
“Yeah well, anyway, I need your advice.”
“Advice?” his brow lifted. “You know what they say about taking advice from strangers?”
“I’m taking the risks. So, the doctor said I’ll need to be monitored for who knows how long after getting out of here and won’t be able to return to my school. He plans on throwing me into a school for cripples, with babysitting nurses and such. I called my family, but they don’t have the cash to afford anything else.”
“So?”
“So? So I don’t want to.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ll be leaving everything behind, every friend I had, that’s why. Admitting I’m a useless freak!” I started boiling. “And if I refuse and go back, I might die before graduation, how’s that?”
“Go for it.”
“Huh?”
“Go to the new school.”
“Care to elaborate?”
He let out an audible sigh.
“Am I better than you?”
“What?”
“This is what I ask myself upon every event,” he meant fires, obviously. “Am I better than those I save? Why do I deserve wearing this inflammable armor while they burn alive? What good can come out of my job if every time there is a chance of not saving them? You are taught standard answers before being thrown into the action. Nobody cares how solid and convincing they sound, you are expected to believe. Many guys crack on first days. I didn’t. I found my own excuse. These people, they are good at what their work, and I’m good at mine. They aren’t supposed to handle fires and never had the proper training, I did. So if they die in flames, it’s an unfortunate event. If I die at work because of poor equipment or anything else, it means more unfortunate events.”
“Cold and selfish.”
“I know, right. Now, what are you good at?”
I kept silence. It’s not like I was a failure, I did some rugby, excelled at Science and have gotten deep in literature lately, but nothing like what he was talking about.
“As expected. High school exists to show you your real self, thence the clubs, councils and everything. You don’t know who you are yet and dying before finding out is boring, so that’s the first reason not to return. Now to being a useless freak. Are you not? Did you do anything useful here?”
“No, but-”
“No buts. You are, and so am I, for the time being. The difference between us is, I will eventually stop being useless, not being a freak. It’s all because of the job. Public sees you as a hero, always shows you gratitude thinking you expect it. You don’t, you are doing just what you were trained for. To me, reception girls are real heroes. I won’t ever be able to stomach such a trivial job. Suddenly, my impatience becomes a part of my charm. Hell, even the fact that I don’t augment myself despite having enough money to stick cybernetics inside every member of the family including my dog becomes something people WOW about. Wow, he’s so brave he doesn’t need those! Boy, if stores had reliably fireproof skin in stick, I’d be all over it, and people would still WOW. Wow, he’s ready to suffer a lifetime addiction to help people!
So I shut the world out and live as I like. No friends except co-workers and family, no damns given about what others think. You, on the other side, look pretty ordinary to me. Say, is you condition something flashy?”
I suddenly realized I still hadn’t told him what my problem was.
“No. I guess I can mimic being normal in a while.”
“See, you’ve already submitted to being a freak,” wait, what? Oh man, that’s not what I meant. Or was it? “but that doesn’t mean you are alone. I’m not, for example.”
“I am.”
The saddest part was me knowing his answer’s general idea beforehand.
“That’s because you keep telling yourself you are normal. Remember the first time you came to the R-zone? How you saw people through? You are one of them, desperately trying not to know what’s going on. Doesn’t feel like you ever were a recluse, yet nobody comes to see you, else I would’ve heard something. Doesn’t that alone make you alien? In a desperate attempt to block this fact out you don’t talk to anyone here because they are freaks, just like you. Isn’t that miserable? You’ve mentioned friends, where are they? All I see in your world is just us two, books and TV. Remember Kafka’s “Castle”? You need to start living a full life not to become its protagonist. It won’t be as before, not a single bit. You’ll have to start anew. Might as well take the chance you’re given.”
He kept saying harsh words, but they were resonating with my thoughts. He was so right and I had been such a fool over these months. My voice shrunk to a whisper:
“It’s not like I’ve ever asked for this.”
“Oh no it is not. Before you get lost in self-pity, though, let me tell you about a girl I found under a crumbled framework of a house once. Both of her parents were dead, mommy’s body laying over hers. Can you imagine a four-year-old kid watching her mom burning to the bones? Did she ask for it? Did she ask for suffering through this to survive and live her life alone with both her body and her soul disfigured? Answer me, boy! Oh, you can’t? Then stop crying and GO DO WHAT YOU HAVE TO!”
He shouted the last words from the top of his lungs, making everybody look at us. A cocky grim found its way to my face. What were they staring at? The all were late, even half an hour ago there still had been a chance to see my misery, but definitely not anymore.
"I have decided," I hissed.
"Good. Any news on the web tonight?"
Not a hint of anger remained in his voice.
"Sure, plug in."
I powered up my tablet, and we just sat there listening to the voice in our earphones.
"Controversy arose with newfound strength as the police confirmed the recent series of murders throughout Japan to have been performed with obvious usage of human augmentation."
"Heard that, big man?"
"Uh-huh. Controversy. Best thing for business."
"How so?"
"Benefits all parties involved. You know, people aren't used to thinking, they would rather take sides."
"So a big fight is the best way to wake them up and make them choose?"
"Story of the mankind, boy."
I smile remembering this. Yeah, my choice is done.
"You don't need to try this hard, I'm coming in any case."
Endo stumbles in the middle of a phrase but quickly catches up.
"Fine then. We will do the paperwork and call your family in three or four days. Thanks for making this easy. Megumi, we have a couple of hours off, how about a date?"
He quickly forgets about me, turning to his companion.
"Like you will ever have a chance. Goodbye, Nakai."
"Aww, how boring. Goodbye, Nakai."
I'm still trapped in the hospital doing nothing, but at least now there is a new life ahead. This is something.
"Yeah, you will definitely have more questions, so take this for the time being," Endo runs back to me and hands over a single-use e-book. "I'm off. This woman... Megumi, wait! Stop breaking my heart already!"
As he runs off again, I can't help thinking how I will always react to these words with a smile now.
***
"Boss, it's Dyson calling."
A chilly black night hangs in the sky. Three men sit leaning to the side of a van parked in a littered back alley. One of them is just about to stand up and make a few steps forward.
"Hello, Derrick," says an imperious voice in his ear.
"Reading you loud and clear," Derrick's voice is dry and tired.
"Other teams have found the carriers."
"No luck this far, I assume."
"They fried themselves."
"Jesus Christ. Are you sure that wasn't remote controlled?"
"Absolutely. They are fanatic about this. Any more concerns about my intel's reliability?"
"Okay, you win. What do we do now?"
"Lie low and wait. I'll have our analysts go through the events once more. They couldn't have just erased the data or thrown it away."
"Dyson," Derrick takes a look around and continues in a lower tone. "I don't need to know this, but do you know what we are after?"
"I know it's worth enough for our beloved competitors to do such a messy cleaning operation it gets in the news and strengthens the purists' ranks in the whole country. If they go to such lengths for it, I want in."
"Whatever you say, boss. We'll get going, then," wind disturbs the skirts of his trench coat, and he shivers uneasily, "it's getting pretty uncomfortable here."
