Polo drank it down, let out a low, gravelly burp, then slid off the stool. “Later, friend. Keep it Red.”
“Red forever,” Fergus answered, as the Marsie left. He ordered another root beer and then took out his handpad to study up on Japan while he waited for his own ride down.
* * *
—
Fergus caught the public shuttle down to Narita Spaceport, then a smaller flyer from there to the Niigata travelport off the western coast of Japan. It was an enormous floating structure tethered in the channel between the mainland and Sado Island, designed to ride out ocean storms and tsunami while being less prone to earthquake damage than land-based ports. For the cost, it probably only barely earned its keep, but when it rode out the great quake of ’17 and was briefly the only place relief flights could get supplies and rescuers in, it had definitely earned its place in the hearts of locals.
When he got out of the flyer, he felt almost slammed to the ground by the humidity. A light rain fell but did nothing to provide relief as he hauled his pack toward the terminal. The doors opened ahead of him, smoothly and silently, and he stepped in to a blast of air conditioning that was a relief for almost ten seconds before it became its own extreme of uncomfortable.
A hologram flickered into life just inside the door, a young Japanese woman with eyes too big to be based on anyone real, wearing a green jacket like a stylized, shortened, kimono. A patch on the front shoulder was a smiling, bright yellow cartoon cat. “Niigata e youkoso!” the greeter said, and bowed. “Nanika osagashi desu ka?”
“Um . . . I don’t . . .” Fergus started to say.
The hologram blipped briefly, and then it said, “May I provide you with assistance?”
“Uh, yeah. I was hoping to do some sight-seeing? Maybe take a trip to Bandai-Asahi, or Lake Hibara? I like nature,” he said.
“We have many guided tours through Bandai-Asahi,” the greeter said. “Would you like to see a menu?”
“I was hoping for something that lets me go at my own pace,” Fergus said. “I might want to stop and hike, and I wouldn’t want to slow anyone else down.”
“Bandai-Asahi is very popular,” the greeter said. “As is Shibatashi Park, where the interactive horror game The Forest Is Hungy and its sequel, The Trees Wear Bones, were created. It is a very exciting trip among our young people, and we recommend the full immersive virtual experience while there.”
“I’m not really a fan of horror,” Fergus said. He’d seen more than enough in real life, and he figured he was likely to see more sooner than he could want. “Is there good hiking east of there? Like, maybe outside Kitakata?”
“We have a tourist center in Aizuwakamatsu that can direct you to local attractions. There is rail service to Aizuwakamatsu every hour. Would you like—”
Another hologram flickered into life beside the first, this one even more anatomically unrealistic and with less virtual clothing. “Yōkoso-ooooo!” the new one sang. “Watashitoisshoni bōken ni ikimasenka? Meka ga arimasu!”
Could a hologram look annoyed? Fergus thought maybe the first one did. “Usero!” the first yelled. “Kare wa meka nante iranai desho!”
“Um . . .” Fergus said again.
The first greeter did a small curtsy, pulling his attention back. “That greeter is Fukushima Fun Mecha. They have a less important contract, and their systems are slow, outdated, and untrustworthy,” it said.
Second greeter smiled. “We have exclusive personal mecha,” it said. “Everyone wants to pilot their own giant robot at least once. Don’t you?”
“Not really,” Fergus said. It was certainly true he didn’t in this moment, because he wanted to not draw any more attention to himself than he absolutely had to, but he had to admit under other circumstances, it would be unbearably tempting. “I just want to go look at nature peacefully.”
“Watashi no kokyakudesu,” First Greeter said to the other.
Second greeter looked at him imploringly, and he shrugged. The hologram blew him a kiss, complete with hologram hearts, and vanished.
“Uh, so how much for the train trip?” Fergus asked.
“One-way or with return?”
“One-way. I’m not sure which direction I’ll go from there.”
“If you wish to rent a personal pod vehicle in Aizuwakamatsu, I can sell you a regular package for 350 Asia-Pacific cred, or we have a special on Kawaiimobiles for 280.”
“And that’s a regular pod car, not a giant robot?”
“It is a two-seater pod car with a typical configuration,” the greeter said. “If you are unhappy, you may change the reservation to a four-seater pod car at our train station facility in Aizuwakamatsu.”
“Okay, then. I’ll take that,” Fergus said.
The greeter held up a hand, and a scan code appeared in front of its palm. Fergus scanned it with his handpad, verified that it was a legit business with minimal substantive service complaints, then completed the transaction.
“Arigatōgozaimashita!” the greeter said, and bowed. “Would you like directions to the train station?”
“Yes, please,” Fergus said.
The greeter spread its hologrammatic hands apart and a map appeared in between them. Fergus scanned that, too.
“Niigata Happiness Company wishes you wonderful travels in Japan,” the greeter said, then bowed and dissipated.
* * *
—
The train, mostly empty, left Niigata and wound its way through the outskirts of the city, mostly obscured by greenery, and slipped almost unnoticed into the rising hills to the southeast. It was only the gradual cessation of electrical noise around him that told him when they’d left civilization behind.
The train was designed to look much like an old-fashioned steam train, with most of its essential modern features disguised just enough to fit the style without becoming obtuse. This extended to the robot servicer that passed through the car, its casing brass and wood, and the top of its head carved to resemble a stylized attendant’s cap. Fergus waved for it to stop and ordered coffee and a small basket of giant crackers called senbei. The robot—or another indistinguishable from it—brought them to him, still hot to the touch, a few minutes later.
The train took him through three towns, stopping briefly in each of them to exchange a small handful of passengers at each, before they reached Aizuwakamatsu itself. Fergus stepped out onto the platform and watched as a half-dozen podcars attached to the back of the train were released and sped off onto local roads, before he headed into the station to find the Niigata Happiness Company office to get his own podcar.
A few steps into the building, a greeter identical to the one in Niigata popped up, with the same cat patch, except on a blue coat. “Baugh-san,” the hologram said.
It took a second for Fergus to remember that was his new alias, William Baugh. “Hi,” he said.
“Due to an unforeseen staff shortage, our pod familiarization attendant is currently behind schedule, providing an orientation to pod systems for our customers. I apologize for this,” the greeter said. “If you wish to wait, it will be approximately one hour and nine minutes. Or if you are familiar with the controls and do not need a tutorial, we can have your pod ready for you in approximately seven minutes.”
“Uh, does the pod have an English language kit?”
“It does,” the greeter answered.
“Then I’ll take it now,” Fergus said.
The greeter nodded. “We have assigned you the Kawaiimobile in bay seventeen, if you will follow me?”
The hologram led him through the station, briefly blipping out as it crossed through doorways and from one projector to the next, or when a person passing the other way walked directly through its space. He didn’t fail to notice that the offender had been a fellow tourist, where the Japanese around him politely avoided disrupting the greeters.
&
nbsp; The greeter led him into a lift, and they went up a floor to where the rental pods were parked. There were only three pods currently there, not including one enclosed within the arms of an automated service robot, and his heart sank as he realized which one was likely his.
“Your Kawaiimobile!” the greeter said, and held out one virtual hand proudly.
It was, true to the first greeter’s description, a standard two-seater pod. It also had large cat ears sprouting from the roof, and giant eyes above the windshield that turned to regard him. A stubby tail, rising from the back curve of the pod, twitched. The front window itself was lined top and bottom with a row of painted teeth, and the driver seat inside was deep red and distinctly tongue-shaped.
The entire Kawaiimobile was also bright, neon yellow.
“Uh . . .” Fergus said. This was not going to let him get around unobtrusively. “Can I upgrade to one of the larger pods?” He pointed to one of the others on the lot.
“I am sorry! They are all reserved,” his greeter said. “We will not have any other available pods until the day after tomorrow.”
He stood up straighter, rolled his shoulders, then cracked his knuckles. “Okay,” he said. “I guess we’re doing this. I’m a professional, and it’s just a pod, and this is all fine. Perfectly fine.”
The greeter smiled and waved as he put his things into the back of the Kawaiimobile. Fergus studiously refused to notice the large black asterisk decal positioned right under the tail on the back hatch, and got in the front with all the dignity he could muster.
At least it drove smoothly, and the red tongue-seat was comfortable. Like much of the rest of the world, the roads inside Aizuwakamatsu, and leading north to the town of Kitakata, which was nearer his goal, were automated, and he had no control over it other than telling it where he was going and letting it take him there. So, he tilted the plush seat back a bit and relaxed, taking in the sprawling town and other vehicles—none of them kawaii, which his handpad informed him too late for it to be of use was Japanese for cute—as they passed by.
It was only a half-hour trip to Kitakata, most of that spent waiting at carefully synchronized intersections, the flow of one town into another too seamless to say when and where it changed. To the north he could see the rising mountains, sharp under their carpet of green, and by the time the roads finally became small and slow enough to let him take control, he was moving fairly steeply uphill.
His handpad chimed, and he turned it on to find Zacker’s face on the other end. “Fergus, I—” the detective started, then frowned deeply. “What the fuck are you inside?”
“A giant happy cat, of course,” Fergus said. “Why?”
“I don’t even want to know,” Zacker said. “Hey, I think we have activity.” The view swung away and then resolved again as a street view out the window. Standing on the far corner at the edge of Bad Yuri’s apartment building was a slight man dressed in unbleached linen, too short to be the would-be thief, Peter, he’d tackled in Gavin’s apartment. This cultist was holding a ukulele, which from the way it sat in his hands was the first time he’d held any kind of musical instrument at all, and though he occasionally strummed at it as people went past, or nodded toward the can on the ground at his feet, mostly he was just watching people walk by, especially anyone who entered the building opposite Zacker’s.
“That’s Fajro Promeso,” Fergus said. “If they’re there, so are the others.”
“Haven’t spotted them yet,” Zacker said, “but I’m looking.”
“Shake a can of carrots? Never mind. Bad Yuri knows?”
“Yep. If no one moves for him soon, Yuri is gonna go for a walk and see if he can draw anyone out that way. We want to do it while there’s still good daylight. No lag on this line—where are you?”
“Japan,” Fergus said. “Saving the universe, and doing it in style. Keep me posted?”
“Will do,” Zacker said, and disconnected.
With luck, the rest of this trip would go smoothly, and he’d have his piece fast enough to be on hand when trouble hit in Perth. He turned the Kawaiimobile off onto a smaller road, which his pod informed him was the road to the Hansha-chi Shrine, which was the nearest marked point to where his search area was, higher up in the hills. He could park there and then hike the rest of the way.
Japan is beautiful, he thought. Everything was just extraordinarily green. Trees and vegetation were everywhere, crowding every centimeter of the steep slopes rising up to either side of the road, burying the outlines of the terrain under a seemingly impenetrable wall of life. Scotland’s trees always had the air of surly, rugged individualists, proclaiming their triumph over the hardships of the land and humankind, but the forests here were more like a raucous dance party that had gotten out of control.
His relief at having successfully sneaked away on his own for this trip gave way to some measure of guilt, and regret he couldn’t share the views, the vibrant, leafy, living smell of the forest, with Isla. He wanted to linger and explore, let a whole new experience of the world sink into his soul, and maybe learn a word or two more useful than kawaii. It was too bad he was always in a hurry.
“Too bad,” he repeated out loud, as his Kawaiimobile came to a sudden halt in the road.
“Unable to proceed. Adjusting maps,” the pod system announced.
He told the pod to park where it was and got out, walking ahead up the road to see what the problem was. Where the next turnoff for the shrine should be, a jarring mass of boulders and dirt and shattered, dead trees blocked his way. The entire side of the steep hill had come down in a landslide, violently obliterating everything in its path, and left a scar in its wake in the form of tens of thousands of tons of debris. Somewhere, entombed underneath it all, was his missing fragment.
When the other core pieces woke up and started trying to connect to each other and make their door, he didn’t expect that would slow them down in the slightest.
Chapter 10
After glumly considering his options—or lack thereof—Fergus parked the Kawaiimobile off the edge of the road in the grass and got out his hiking gear. He did his best to stay off the rockfall itself, since he had no way of knowing if it was stable without risking his own neck on it. The road itself had been obliterated, and the trees to either side of it were broken or bent over with the weight of rock and dirt against them. A few of the smaller saplings, nearly bent sideways, had already begun to turn their trunks back upward toward the sky, and he could make out grasses and seedlings popping up from the cracks and crevasses, so it couldn’t have happened too recently.
Long enough ago that the Kawaiimobile navigation systems should have known, anyway. Maybe he should have gone with the mecha.
A few dozen meters up the hillside, under cover along the edge of the untouched forest bordering the slide, he stumbled across a small trail of packed earth among the roots and rocks, and followed it with both gratitude and trepidation, remembering the hidden spy gear on Burringurrah. At least in the forest, visibility was a two-way problem, and as a bonus, the shade from the trees kept the sun mostly off his head, if doing little to break up the stifling humidity. He had gone from the arid-freezing of Mars to the arid-hot of the Southwest Territories and Western Australia, to being smothered alive by wet, hot air almost unbearably filled with the weedy scent of nature. Everything smelled green and emphatically alive, and even though birdsong kept him constant, cheerful company, he felt no touch of electricity on his senses. No spies, but also no fragment. He quickly lost any exact idea of where he was relative to the road, shrine, and search zone, with all his weaving through trees and underbrush, and he pulled out his handpad to get his bearings again just in time to trip over a tree root and go sprawling into the undergrowth.
“Aw, shit,” Fergus muttered, rolling over and sitting up, in time to watch a thin bead of blood appear and harden on his leg where a sharp rock had caught him. He che
cked to see if any of his blood had fallen to the ground—he wasn’t normally that paranoid, but this close to the search zone, he wasn’t taking any chances—and though he was sure none had, he still took out a pack of cleaner nanites and popped open one of the blisters where he had tumbled.
The backs of his legs already ached from the uneven terrain and steep incline, which showed no signs of leveling out any time soon. He drank some water, checked his handpad for his location, and took several more minutes to rest and listen. When he became restless to get going again, he wrapped his hand around the trunk of a young tree and pulled himself to his feet, brushed leaf litter off his shorts, shouldered his pack, and started upward again.
He was not far from where he’d have had to ditch the Kawaiimobile and start hiking anyway if there hadn’t been a rockfall in his way. He thought he could hear the faint sounds of the Daiya River to the west, which meant if the shrine itself hadn’t been swept away in the landslide, it should be only a half-kilometer or so from where he was. He was going to have to cross the landslide, though, unless he wanted to hike all the way over the mountain and then come back again on the far side. And that was hoping the rockfall wasn’t so extensive, his entire search zone had gone down with it.
He made his way to the edge of the trees, stepping carefully over humps of churned earth and grasses, and stepped out blinking in the sunlight on the fall itself. The ground was torn up and littered with broken stone and shattered branches, and looking up, he could now make out the cliff face that must have shattered, bringing everything down below it. It looked stable, but what did he know?
Hoping the cliff wasn’t preparing for an imminent repeat, he began picking his way as delicately as he could across it, leaning upslope as best he could, and occasionally finding branches or protruding rocks he could hang on to for steadiness as he passed by.
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