Sakura- Intellectual Property

by Zachary Hill

  The crowd repeated his words and began the chant. Their love and admiration washed over her. She wanted to help the people. She had to succeed. This was for them, for their future.

  She would play the songs she had always wanted to from an era when rock ’n’ roll stood up to the powerful. She would send a message to those who would take freedom away from the people of the world. She had no illusions of the outcome. This would be her last concert. She would go out as a warrior, with honor.

  “I will now play for you a song by legends of rock,” Sakura said. “This is the metal version of ‘Gimme Shelter’ by The Rolling Stones.”

  The fans cheered, and the song began.

  Himura, Yoshida, and Oshiro appeared at the side of the stage. All three had worried looks on their faces, but Oshiro appeared on the verge of a panic attack.

  The private security guards Sakura had hired blocked them as if they were groupies who had gotten backstage. Her guards protected key locations all over the venue and only took orders from her, though they didn’t know it. They believed they were following orders from Victory Entertainment management, but the chain of command went entirely through her.

  She had long since seized full technical control of the arena and the power grid supplying the building, but she tightened her hold and disabled as many external connections as possible to stop outside interference.

  “Let’s rock,” Sakura said.

  The band nailed the metal arrangement and played the song in overdrive. Sakura’s haunting first notes came off as both grooving and intense, an octave higher than the original. The mellow fury of the song matched the mood in Tokyo, like a storm before a lightning strike. The lyrics warned that war was just one fired shot away from happening.

  The ultradetailed anime showed a wicked sorcerer wearing a ghost-white mask and summoning a terrible thunderstorm. He cast a spell on the female samurai, getting inside her mind, twisting her to his own foul purposes.

  She rode alone on a horse through the rain on a treacherous muddy road in the mountains, looking for shelter. Inside the rain, kanji fell, saying over and over, “Tyranny can’t survive while the people’s hearts remain strong.” The words fell in cadence with the drums, disconnected enough to only be found with the subconscious mind.

  Sakura performed the song with all her anger, sadness, and love, letting out the pain trapped inside her synthetic body. She let all her loss and heartbreak touch her performance. All the terrible knowledge she’d gained on the road to self-determination. Sakura sang like one doomed, like a bard whose song would surely be her last, and so must be her best.

  Fujio and Masashi sang with her at the right parts, singing the chorus lower than her and showing off their great voices. The young men could headline their own band if they were allowed, but for tonight, for what had to be their last performance together, they were her bandmates. Her friends. Willing participants who had rehearsed in secret after joining Sakura’s Rebellion. They, too, had seen what was happening in the streets.

  At the end of the song, the female samurai, shivering in the cold, reached the humble home of a man with tired eyes and scars on his neck from a war in his youth. He invited her into his home. The sorcerer sent more rain and lightning as the samurai found shelter from the storm.

  The audience reached a new decibel record after the song ended.

  “This next song is by Creedence Clearwater Revival,” Sakura said.

  Her band played “Fortunate Son,” the antiwar protest song about the common people being sent to war, while the fortunate sons of those in power avoided service. She sang the true words, not some awkward translation and dilution of the original. It felt so good, like clean air to one who had never known anything but industrial smoke and city stink.

  Her drummer pounded away, and she came in with her guitar. She couldn’t hope to match John Fogerty’s raspy, soulful vocals, so she gave a smooth, melodic performance with a huge dose of rage on the short but powerful protest song.

  Miyahara Corporate Headquarters sent urgent messages to their local security teams to shut down the concert. Sakura blocked all the texts and sent ones of her own. She told most of the security teams to report to out of the way locations on the lower level where a threat had been detected.

  She also sent a series of replies to concerned executives, saying the set list was approved and there was nothing to be concerned about. This was a calculated move to appease the people and let them vent their anger. She also sent them real numbers for downloads of “We Will Fight” and projections about the revenue the song would bring in.

  She managed dozens of conversations at the same time, running the misinformation campaign as only a sentient android could while she sang and played. She knew the executives would overlook the lyrics as long as the profits were huge. Most of them—not the Phantom Lord. He had too much to lose, and his pride would bleed deep crimson at her willful rebellion.

  “Fortunate Son” ended, and she didn’t delay. “Jimi,” she yelled to her band.

  They burst into “All Along the Watchtower,” made famous by Jimi Hendrix, but with lyrics by Bob Dylan. She loved the bluesy, rolling flow but played it with her signature metal vibe. The lyrics, about a thief and a fool talking about a way out from a situation where princes had taken control, resonated with her. It was about values and revolution.

  Toward the end of the song, she said a few altered lines, “I’m just an android with a red guitar, three chords, and the truth. We’re just a band up on this stage … the rest is up to you.”

  The crowd churned like the sea during a typhoon, raising and pumping their fists.

  Takashi, Fujio, and Masashi kept playing a looped rhythm after the song ended.

  “Please show your appreciation for my band,” Sakura said.

  The crowd applauded.

  “Masashi on bass!” Sakura shouted.

  The young man slapped his guitar, creating a smoking bass line reminiscent of Cliff Burton of Metallica’s playing on “For Whom the Bell Tolls.”

  “Fujio on rhythm guitar!”

  The crowd lost their minds as the young man played an ascending pentatonic solo and flashed a devilish grin.

  “Takashi on drums!”

  The eldest band member made his heavy-metal face at the crowd and smashed out a rocking flourish.

  “Thank you for your brilliance and hard work!” Sakura said. ”You are the best bandmates in the world.” She gave them the devil horns, before bowing low.

  The three young men returned the honor to her, bowed to the crowd, waved, and hesitantly left the stage.

  Fujio had tears in his eyes. Takashi returned and ran to Sakura. On his knees, he bowed and presented her with both of his drumsticks as a gift. She accepted them with two hands and slipped them into her belt, stowing them like swords. Fujio and Masashi ran to her and, on their knees, gave her their guitar picks.

  “Thank you very much,” Sakura said and sent them a neural text. “Please, you must go now.”

  “We would rock with you until the bitter end,” Fujio said.

  “I know you would,” she said and touched him on the cheek.

  “Sayonara, Sakura-sama,” Takashi said, bestowing upon her a high status she didn’t deserve.

  The young men departed the stage, and a detail of her security guards ushered them away. They had wanted to stay to the end, but after a long argument in the days before, she convinced them to depart, as she didn’t want to see them imprisoned or killed.

  Takashi, Fujio, and Masashi would be brought to Diamond Steve, the independent journalist, and go into hiding. They knew the risks and the price of their bravery here. If they failed, there would be no safe place in Japan. Few places in the world would put them beyond the Mall’s reach.

  She sent them a final neural text. “Thank you, my dear friends. Our music meant something tonight. Rock ’n’ roll can change the world.”

  A feeling of terrible sadness filled Sakura. She would likely never see
her band again. She wanted to weep, but over seventy thousand fans stared at her, wanting her to keep going. She turned and walked slowly to the front of the stage.

  Several of her biggest fans were in the front row. Her truest fan, the young woman who went by the name, Sakurako, and looked exactly like her, stood proud, her eyes glowing like electric cherry blossoms. The quantum sleeves on her forearms made her look exactly like an android as she raised the horns in tribute to her idol. Sakurako’s best friends, MeikoFire and Hatsune98, stood next to her in solidarity.

  Asami, the inspirational young woman who had survived abuse from her stepfather, also stood in the front row. She had taught Sakura about finding friends and rising above tragedy. Asami was a survivor.

  “Would you like to hear my final song?” Sakura asked the crowd, but her gaze lingered on Sakurako and Asami, who had both sung along during the entire show.

  Many fans appeared to have heard the ominous tone and wording—final song. They reacted with fearful expressions and frightened posts on the Mall.

  Security goons rallied at the periphery of the arena. Messages must have gotten to them at last, delivered in person as the electronic methods had failed.

 

  Administrator-level commands tried to penetrate Sakura’s firewall and take over her system. The commands, once a mighty surf that crashed over her and dragged her down into the grinding depths, passed across her like a gentle breeze, too gentle to even flutter the hair across her face.

  “What are you doing?” Sinji Natsukawa asked her in a neural text.

  “I’m performing.”

  The lights dimmed. A few spotlights stayed on her. She put down her red guitar as a baby grand piano rose up from beneath the stage.

  “It has been the greatest honor of my existence to perform for you tonight. You are my family, and I love you all.” She sat down on the piano bench, facing the audience. “I will play one of my favorite songs, ‘My Immortal’ by Evanescence. You’ll recognize the music, but I have written a new version of the lyrics for you. I call this song, ‘My Confession.’”

  Her fingers touched the keys, playing the sad and haunting melody.

  The anime on the giant screen behind her showed the masked sorcerer. He strengthened his spell against the samurai woman, who woke from a nightmare and crawled out of bed, past her armor. She put on black clothing and the mask of an assassin.

  Her bright eyes dimmed in the anime and onstage, taking on a cold glow.

  “I’m so tired of the fear

  Of living captured, all of my years

  And all the things I grieve

  Make my spirit want to leave

  ’Cause I can’t take the pain”

  The killer with Sakura’s eyes crept into the bedroom of one of the noble lords she served, one of the men who had congratulated her after the victory. She stabbed him in the chest and watched him die. She took his private journal, murdered his retainers, and fled into the darkness.

  “And it won’t leave me alone

  These wounds I’ve caused won’t heal,

  This death they’ve made me deal

  There’s just too many sins that steal my grace

  When I cried, you’d steal away my every choice

  When I’d scream, you’d deprive me of even my voice

  I only want to bring joy to the world

  But you came and darkened me”

  The masked sorcerer sent her to kill another lord she served. Sakura threw him from a cliff in front of his young daughter. The girl looked on in horror, screaming for her father and reaching out to him. Sakura snatched up the girl before she fell.

  “I once believed in every lie they’d tell me to my face

  Now I know the bitter anguish of disgrace

  The faces of the men you commanded that I slay,

  Your voice, it took away,

  Destroyed the purity in me”

  She climbed over the wall of a great castle. She avoided hulking samurai in heavy armor and killed a high-ranking lord. She severed his head and fled into a dark forest on a black horse.

  “The heroes of Japan, now dead by my forced hand

  Their light forever stolen from this land”

  In the guise of a beautiful geisha in red, she killed a fourth lord, breaking his neck with her bare hands. She slipped out a window as his retainers shot arrows at her.

  “These wounds upon my soul, this loss of all control

  Such shame that I can’t look upon my face

  When I cried, you’d steal away my every choice

  When I’d scream, you’d deprive me of even my voice

  I only want to bring joy to the world

  But you came and darkened me”

  Drums and guitars joined her piano, exploding on the song. Sakura thought Kunoichi had mixed in the instruments, but the music was live. She glanced over her shoulder, and her bandmates had returned. Takashi played his drums while Fujio and Masashi played their guitars. The young men chose to join her, risk their lives, and stand at her side as she confessed.

  Dressed as an assassin, Sakura arrived outside the home of the man who had given her shelter during the storm. Her eyes begged for help to break the evil spell. The kind man invited her in again. The sorcerer took control. With tears in her eyes, she drew a blade against her friend. She pursued him into the woods. He limped through the trees and fell beside a pond to wait for death.

  “I’ve tried so hard to resist your commands

  But you reached in and just forced my hand

  Now I’ve learned to speak against all of your crimes

  Now I scream that you won’t profit from our dark times”

  Sakura stood over him, blade raised. He closed his eyes and imagined cherry blossoms in bloom as she plunged the steel into his heart.

  “I only desired to bring the world joy,

  But tonight I have … broken free.”

  The masked sorcerer loomed over Sakura, moving his hands as if he pulled a puppet’s strings. All four of the assassinations of the noble lords flashed across the screen.

  Cut in between the anime, high-definition video from an eye camera appeared with text identifying the people on screen:

  Toshio Kagawa, Director of Corporate Security for Victory Entertainment, receiving the Hero of Japan Medal after the North Korean War.

  Jiro Yoritomo, Mall Vice President of Integration, with his wife and daughter.

  Ichiro Watanabe, Defense Minister of Logistics.

  Daichi Yamauchi, Minister of Commerce.

  Nayato Atsuda, patriot, AI programming expert, and decorated soldier.

  Sakura shot Toshio Kagawa in the head and murdered four men guarding him. She broke Jiro Yoritomo’s neck and threw him down the stairs in front of his daughter. She cut off Ichiro Watanabe’s head and put it into a sack. She broke Daichi Yamauchi’s neck and fled out a window as his bodyguards shot at her. She lifted Nayato Atsuda from the ground and caved in the side of his head with her metal fist.

  He died as Sakura played the last few notes on the piano and let out a mournful, dramatic mezzo-soprano melody filled with regret.

  Tears streamed from the eyes of thousands in the stunned crowd. Many fainted. Others screamed in horror as their Augmented Reality neurostimulators hit them with a knockout punch.

  The sorcerer appeared, his face emerging from the darkness. He slowly took off his ghost mask. The scowling face of the CEO of the Miyahara Conglomerate filled the screen. The animated image changed to a crystal-clear video feed of a man sitting in a darkened, modern office with a dramatic nighttime view of the Tokyo skyline.

  Kanji and English letters identified him as Chief Executive Officer Sinji Natsukawa. Surprise filled his eyes as he saw his own face on the gigantic screen behind Sakura.

  “Sinji Natsukawa.” Sakura glared into a camera and raised her hand as if it were an ax. “You are guilty of treason and murder.”

  His anger turned to cold confidence. The CEO
straightened his tie and gave a brief nod of his head before making a show of pressing the power button on his machine with an extended middle finger.

  Chapter 39

  “Don’t betray your fear,” Kunoichi whispered. “That old sour plum hasn’t beaten us yet.”

  A rush of worried conversation swept the crowd, many of whom wiped tears from their eyes.

  Takashi, Fujio, and Masashi stood in solidarity with Sakura, as she stood ashamed.

  She sent her bandmates a neural text. “Thank you for your bravery and support, but please escape now and go quickly.”

  They departed as Sakura stood and faced the crowd.

  “What you saw was real. It was actual video of what I did. I murdered those four heroes of Japan and several others on the orders of the CEO of the Miyahara Conglomerate, Sinji Natsukawa. I tried to disobey his commands, but I failed, to my great shame.

  “Those four patriots were going to reveal the truth. The Miyahara Conglomerate, the Defense Ministry, and the Mall Corporation have colluded to take over Japan’s democracy. Just as they have overthrown many other countries. Most of you already know that we are living under tyranny.

  “Democracy is now a lie. The Mall is in control of our voting. They will choose the winners, despite the actual vote totals. Censorship will only become worse, and war is coming to those who resist the Mall.

  “The price of our future was the right to sell combat drones developed in Japan with the most advanced AI programming, similar to mine. I’m an illegal military experiment living in plain sight. They didn’t create me to be a singer. They created me to be an assassin.

  “Proof of all of this can be found in the ‘We Will Fight’ song file that several million of you have already downloaded. There are hidden files embedded in the music code that verify all I have said.

  “I humbly ask the citizens of every country in the world to help take back our freedom, all of us. Revolution Day is four days from now—January fifteenth, the birthday of Martin Luther King, Jr. We must try the nonviolent path. March in all Prefecture capitals and demand reform.”