by Satoshi Hase
“Wouldn’t you say that’s a defect in this system?” Shinguji asked, and Arato could hear the combative edge to his sarcasm.
Mikoto seemed neither cool nor hot in her reactions. So, when someone brought heat to the discussion, it almost seemed like their emotions were amplified in contrast to Mikoto’s calmness.
Shinguji was stubborn in his attack. “The whole concept of an hIE representative just shows how low the public’s expectations toward the government are. We automate things when we no longer care about their quality as long as a machine spits out the results we want. When we assign human work to hIEs, it means we’ve lost our faith in what humans can accomplish,” he said.
Mikoto put on a sad expression. “Automation is nothing more than humans organizing their work into a manual, and training machines to fulfill the conditions laid out in that manual on a cycle. Even in the field of customer-facing jobs, automation is something that has continued since the 20th century, in restaurant chains and franchise retail stores. To address the wider issue you are indicating, it is easier to rely on automation for a higher level of work transparency and precision than it is to expect the same of humans,” she said.
As Arato listened to her, he felt a light chill creeping up his spine. Mikoto’s defense of automation was nothing more than her gathering and summarizing the opinions of humans. Those cold words were cobbled together from the actual feelings of humans in society, regarding their fellow humans. A sadness for the world — a world where humans were deeming other humans unnecessary and replacing them with machines — spread in Arato’s heart.
〈Is this really all about what’s most convenient?〉 Arato asked philosophically. Obviously the Antibody Network believed that the automation of their world wasn’t just a matter of convenience. Enough so that they had taken up guns to resist it. He started to feel embarrassed about continuing to snoop around as an invisible man. On the second story of an old restaurant, Arato had discovered that Kengo was continuing to support the anti-hIE group Antibody Network, and now he felt like he was coming face-to-face with the reason why.
〈I do not know what you are feeling right now, Arato, but a government-funded, large-scale experiment like this should be enough of a sign that it is a next step which people deem necessary,〉 Lacia said, still standing by Arato’s side. Since the hall was their destination — the point where they would wait for the ambush — they couldn’t just leave. 〈Arato, do you believe a fully automated world would be worthless?〉 she asked.
Arato didn’t know how to answer. He wanted to stop Kengo, but he felt like he was starting to understand what his friend was fighting for.
Shinguji didn’t sit down. Instead, he stood on the stairway, staring down at Mikoto. “If all it takes to replace humanity is some machines following directions, that fact gives birth to a whole slew of questions and arguments,” he said. “Just as this very experiment is currently under attack.”
“The Next-Generation Social Research Center is currently conducting an experiment using a complete simulation of city life to ascertain whether it would be possible to leave these aspects of human life to machines or not. Once the results of this experiment are available, they should provide an answer to your question, Mr. Shinguji,” Mikoto said.
This is what Kengo and his comrades were coming to destroy. The tension at being this close to their target gave Arato goosebumps. Even looking through his monochrome stereo vision, Arato could see Shinguji’s powerful presence. He felt pressure from the man like a wave of heat.
But, as it turned out, the heat wasn’t just from Shinguji’s intensity; the building shook, and hot gusts swirled around the room. The sound of an explosion from nearby sent tremors through the air. It was impossible for Arato to stay upright without grabbing something for support. Due to the height of the buildings, it took several long moments for the shaking to cease.
Everyone looked up.
Something was falling from above. It looked like hundreds, maybe thousands of tiny fragments of something. As the things made no sound, Arato could only see them through the vibrations of other sounds in the room. They looked like flower petals, dancing mysteriously in and out of his vision as they fell into the meeting room, which was supposed to be completely sealed off from the outside. There was no way flower petals would be falling naturally into a room over twenty stories above the ground.
Everyone in the room seemed confused. The sight was so astounding that no one was particularly panicked by it. Any tension in the room seemed to fade. But Arato, grabbing one of the falling petals, felt like he had been dunked in ice water; they were the same things that had been falling on the night he met Lacia. It was another storm of flowers with the ability to take over machines and make them go crazy.
Forgetting for a moment that he was trespassing there, Arato started to yell out a warning. A hand gripped his and squeezed until his bones creaked. It was Lacia.
〈The warning will come soon, without our help,〉 she said.
***
Kengo and his comrades saw the rain of flowers a few minutes before Arato and Lacia were bathed in it.
They had managed to enter the 21st floor — the reception area for the meeting hall — but there, they had been stopped by heavy fire from security hIEs. The Antibody Network had come through the fire stairs. In order to be used in times of emergency, the fire stairs had easy access to the main corridor. Looking at it from a defensive perspective, if they were unable to hold off the invaders at this point, their guests would be in danger. So, the guards had solidified their defenses there.
Even Kouka, at their head, was having trouble advancing. She had solidified their hold on the fire stairs, but the Shingubo security hIEs had gathered in the hallways and meeting rooms the Antibody Network wasn’t targeting, and had formed a solid defensive line.
In other words, even if she was able to pierce through their defenses there and lead Kengo and the others forward, they would be stopped by the defenses on the 22nd floor. This would allow the remainder of the 21st floor forces to take potshots at their flank and, though Kouka would probably make it out fine, Kengo and the others would be done for.
In the midst of all this, one of the exhausted volunteers said something strange. “Do you guys hear someone singing?”
Then, as vibrations started to shake the air, they turned their eyes to the walls of the building. The ceiling, floor, and walls all shook simultaneously, as if the building had been struck by a great blow, and everyone had trouble staying on their feet. They were surrounded by the sound of an explosion and shattering glass, and Kengo was thrown helplessly to the floor.
He pulled himself up in a corridor that was suddenly full of dust. The walls, made of concrete and some opaque material, had been destroyed. “Are those flowers?” he wondered.
The thick tempered glass walls of the corridor they were in should have shown them an expansive view of Oi’s office buildings, but the glass was so full of cracks now that it had become half-opaque. What looked like a helicopter rotor had split through the wall and appeared to be the source of the cracking. Rubble had been scattered across the floor, making their footing unstable.
But, there was something that drew their attention even more than a helicopter rotor stabbed into the wall; it was the fact that the metallic rotor was blooming with flowers of all colors.
The wind from outside the building was gently flowing in through the broken wall.
“What, did that thing crash into the building?” Kengo asked, staring in shock at the colorfully blooming helicopter. The rotor was still trying to spin, jerking back and forth and sending out sparks.
“Looks like a news helicopter. It slammed into the 22nd floor at pretty high speed.” At this voice the men, who had been pulling themselves up, turned and snapped to attention automatically. Kouka had returned.
Before any of them could ask what a news helicopter was doing there, Kouka continued speaking. “Looks like it worked. While security deals wi
th evacuating the guests safely and handling that helicopter, they won’t be able to set aside enough manpower to stop us anymore,” she explained.
Members of the invasion team shot each other uneasy glances. But, as amateurs, they had decided to leave all their decisions to their leader. There was nothing for them to do but go forward.
Despite being an hIE herself, there was violence in Kouka’s voice as she spoke. “One more step, and we’ll be at the meeting room where they’ve got Mikoto. Let’s all repeat the doctrine of the Antibody Network before we go in there. Everyone, do no harm to a human! Protect the humans, and only pull your trigger if there’s an hIE in your crosshairs,” she said. Her rough words stirred the fire in the infiltration team, turning them into a mob armed with guns.
“Let’s hear it. Say it loud!” she called, stabbing her bladed device into the ground with feeling.
“The Antibody Network will defend humans, human society, and human culture!” the infiltration team repeated, at the top of their voices.
“The Antibody Network will never shoot a human!” As the members repeated the phrases together, the uncertainty in their eyes was replaced with enthusiasm. They were going to do it. They had to do it.
“You will only shoot at what your leader tells you to!” Kouka said. She was locking down some of their capacity to think, and solidifying their obedience. As a tool for victory, she was perfect. This machine had taken the meaning out of the fight for Kengo and his companions. But, since Kengo couldn’t hope for a more sane reality to come along and rescue him, he found himself connecting with his comrades, who were all delirious with fatigue, excitement and fear. He wanted to destroy whatever Kouka told him was okay to shoot. The thought that he was chomping at the bit to follow the orders of an hIE was mortifying.
“You there, what will you do if someone I haven’t told you to shoot comes up and punches you?” Kouka asked one of the infiltration team members with a flushed face.
“If they’re human, I will allow them to punch me without shooting!” he replied smartly.
“You pass,” Kouka said with a wide grin. All they could do was follow her. “Well then, let’s get these fireworks started!” she called, then changed her device into a powerful laser and shot the helicopter through the thick glass walls. Flames and violent wind from the explosion flew into the 21st floor.
The invasion of the 22nd floor almost seemed like a special show, with Kouka as the starring actress. With their forces divided to protect their guests from the spreading fire, the security hIEs could not stop her. She knew exactly where they would be, and shot them down with blasts from her giant laser cannon. The security hIEs tried to hide behind walls and shoot at her. Kouka drew a knife and gun from her bulletproof jacket so quickly that it seemed like sleight of hand. Her every movement was dramatic, as if her actions before had been toned down to get the infiltration team accustomed to her.
There wasn’t even time for the pincer attack from the 21st floor that they had been dreading to happen before Kouka smashed through the defenses. She showed no hesitation or sorrow for the violence. As an hIE, she had no heart. Human in nothing but form, she was almost too untouched by the destruction around her.
As Kengo stepped into the corridor leading to the meeting hall, the floor under his feet became carpeted, and the decor more comfortable. He also heard a rush of voices. Classy adults in suits were screaming and running. Kengo and his gun-toting friends were obviously not something these people came across in their daily lives.
“We’re not going to hurt you! The Antibody Network doesn’t shoot humans!” Kengo yelled. He doubted that anyone would believe him after they had broken through security with their guns, but he felt that he just had to say it.
“Don’t worry. We’re the allies of all humans,” he said. As one would expect, no one listened.
“Murderers!”
“Help!”
“Police!”
And gunshots continued to split through it all. Kouka was blowing away security hIEs with incredible skill. The infiltration team was being swallowed up in the chaos. Since no one seemed to want to listen, one of the infiltrators raised his gun and shot a round at the ceiling.
“Shut up!” he yelled. The civilians all crouched low, holding their heads in fear. Only the infiltration team was left standing.
“What the hell are you doing?! This isn’t what we came here for!” Kengo shouted. He pushed himself closer to the guy firing into the ceiling. After wasting a whole clip, the man dropped his arms in exhaustion.
Kengo found the harshness of the world he was in unfair. It was always divided between those who were always suffering, and those who could enjoy their lives. Even within Japan, families like Kengo’s hadn’t seen a change in their status in one hundred years.
The door to the meeting room opened, spewing out a stream of evacuees shoving past each other in a rush to get out.
“D-6 through D-12, get into the meeting room. D-2 to D-5, guide the guests to the big stairway. Don’t even think about putting your fingers on those triggers!” Kouka ordered, while dispatching the security hIEs from close range.
Hefting her massive device, she dashed into the storm of flower petals. As if to escape from the hallway full of people who saw them not as heroes but as criminals, the infiltration team members followed her in through the door.
Kengo followed her as well, his body feeling heavy from how much sweat he had shed. He kept his eyes down, not wanting anyone to see his face. “Get me outta here,” he cried, not letting the words escape his lips for anyone to hear. He just wanted it to be over.
The flower petals were so thick in the air, it was like trying to swim through a flood of five-colored water. Kengo could barely make out anything three meters ahead. He couldn’t see the target, Mikoto. Under the circumstances, he thought it would be impossible for them to still be conducting the experiment.
A little girl in a white dress was standing in the middle of the storm of flowers. She looked about four or five years younger than Kengo’s sister Olga. He thought she might have been a grade-schooler, but the sight of her made Kengo freeze.
There was no way a girl as young as her was involved with the experiment. Plus, the way she was standing there, throwing flower petals out of her hands, was completely out of place. Her long, green hair and matching green eyes were cute, but definitely didn’t look human.
A voice Kengo recognized screamed from nearby. “Help! The flowers! They’re crawling all over me!” A member of the infiltration team was slapping at his body wildly, and Kengo dropped his gaze to his own gun. Dozens of the flower petals had grown insectoid legs, and were crawling around the mechanical portion of the firearm. Each petal was a tiny robot.
“Snowdrop’s child units won’t hurt humans. Just slap them away if they start coming for your collar terminals. Everyone just calm down,” Kouka said, shifting the form of her bladed device.
A line of flower petals burst into flames, shot by Kouka’s high-powered laser. The soundless beam of death from Kouka’s laser caught the green-haired little girl, and the sleeve of her white dress burst into flames.
A hundred blazing flowers illuminated the meeting hall as they danced in the air, but the girl Kouka had called ‘Snowdrop’ did not fall. Instead, parts of her hair twitched like the ears of an animal. Then she touched both of her hands lightly to her own stomach.
“Come,” she murmured quietly, ignoring her own flaming clothing.
Kengo heard a metallic creaking from the entrance of the room, where the remains of the destroyed security hIEs had begun to move. They were like walking corpses, two or three units together with flower petals gathered around their broken parts. Where they gathered, the dancing petals formed full flowers.
Members of the infiltration team, half-crazed by the strangeness of the scene, fired wildly at the flowery zombies. But, no matter how many holes they punched through them, the corpses did not stop. Kouka, fearing a stray bullet might hit a hu
man, ordered them to stop firing.
Kengo wiped sweat from his face with his sleeve. He had realized that this girl, Snowdrop, must have been the one who’d attacked Arato on the night he met Lacia. He couldn’t help comparing himself to Arato. “Endo sure is something else,” he said, feeling the tiny flower petal robots crawling on him, even under his clothes. They felt dry, as if they had come off of an artificial flower. The feeling of them swarming over him was shaking Kengo’s sanity.
“How the hell did he have time to make a contract with an hIE in a situation like this?” Kengo asked himself. It didn’t matter how hot the hIE was, or how much he trusted her, Arato’s sense of danger must have been broken. Thinking of his friend, Kengo felt the corners of his mouth twitching up in a small smile. It helped him pull himself together.
“I just have to take out that hIE, then we can go home. This whole thing is her fault,” Kengo said, raising his gun as he waded through the flower petals in search of the political opinion aggregator hIE.
There was no one on the podium, and the seating was all empty. A young woman with black hair in a red and white suit was standing under the podium, giving instructions to the evacuees. “Please stay calm! Just keep walking. The experiment has been cancelled. We will be contacting you later with a follow-up,” she said. On her head, the machine-controlling flowers had gathered like a floral crown. The well-dressed representatives from the experiment were following her orders, using their suit coats to protect their heads.
But Kouka had told Kengo that the flowers wouldn’t do anything to humans. Though they were crawling all over his body, Kengo hadn’t noticed the flowers trying to congregate on his head or anything. Therefore, the woman in front of him being swarmed by the petals must be Mikoto.