The Complete Karma Trilogy

by Jude Fawley

  “Yeah, I do. I’ll get right on it.”

  “Good.”

  Damon had been walking for nearly two days, his head a constant explosion. For a while they had hitched a ride on a subway, but that was only for part of the way, and apparently they weren’t supposed to. Jackson had threatened him with death if he ever told anyone.

  He kept touching his ear, even though it sent waves of pain through his entire body every time that he did. They had taken off his ear, the whole thing, and then put it back. They tunneled into his brain. He could feel the sensation of the machine in his head still, tunneling from his ear, along the inside perimeter of his skull, a few centimeters back to his Karma Chip. It was still numb, but pulsing, and he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

  “Why did you take my ear off?” he stammered.

  “We told you that already,” Jackson said patiently, as they trudged along, nearly at the mansion.

  It would have been almost tolerable, Damon thought, except that he had seen it, he had seen it happening. He had a mirror on the inside of his bathroom door, from which he could see himself standing in the shower. And he’d never loved the mirror there, but he never thought that it would ruin his life either. He was conscious when they did it, he could see the unnatural machine, suspended above his head, a drill in his mind, his ear off to the side, just suspended there. It was the image. And then they just attached it again like nothing ever happened, and there was his Chip, bloody and on the counter. And only then did his body grant him reprieve, only then did he pass out.

  Damon was surprised when they simply went around the mansion, into the field behind it. They walked close under the building, as if they were avoiding being seen from the windows, if they could. He hoped they weren’t breaking in to it. He had been doubting for quite some time if he had made the right decision—he should have just went to one of the Rehabilitation clinics and prayed for the best. He didn’t know what he had signed up for. It was possible that the ear was just the beginning, that a sick, demented half-existence of being tortured lay ahead of him. It was possible that his new companions were part of the Government as well, punishing those who tried to escape their fate. The possibilities and the pain, they filled his head.

  They walked through some trees, and suddenly they were in a hidden, little village, with tents and a small, wooden building. It didn’t really make sense. They brought him around the back of the building, to a guy that was sitting behind a bunch of screens.

  “Brother Emerson. Here he is, that new recruit I told you about. His name is Damon. Should I put him in a tent?”

  “Brother Charles said to put him on the farm.”

  “He hasn’t exactly healed yet, why aren’t we putting him into a tent?”

  “That was an order from Brother Charles, are you going to disobey it?”

  “No, I’m not. If you say so, then. But is he around to talk to, Brother Charles?”

  “He’s not, he went back into the city. To the Park. He’s having a meeting there with the ghosts, and he says it can’t wait. He said that you should wait here, and go with all of us.”

  “Damn it,” Jackson said, thinking about how tired he was from the long trek. “I’m not just going to wait here, if things are happening already. I’m going to that meeting.”

  “You couldn’t possible make it in time.”

  “I can if I take a subway.”

  “You know that’s dangerous, Brother Jackson,” Emerson said with a frown.

  “Don’t even get me started. You think I don’t know what’s dangerous? I’m out there every day, avoiding Karma, while you sit behind these little computers, safe and sound. Don’t even start. Come on, Damon, I’m taking you to the farm, where you’re going to have a lot of fun, okay?”

  He grabbed the disoriented man by the arm and led him out of the building. Before he had gotten very far, he told one of his group, “Go get us some of those Evaporation Pens they’re making. I’ve got a bad feeling about this meeting. If he says no, take them. You, go with him. I’ll take care of the recruit. I’ll meet you both out front.” The two left and he continued on to the farm.

  “They’ll tell you what to do,” Jackson said, indicating people that were meandering about between the plants. Then he yelled, “New recruit!” before leaving Damon standing there.

  It was the saddest farm that Damon had seen in his life. He’d seen pictures before, of the Government farms, vast tracks of land that had Solar Umbrellas to give them light, high-yield fertilizer, and large, intricate water sprinklers. Those plants had looked robust, healthy, fertile.

  In contrast, everything on the field around him was tragically withered, bending unhealthily under the weight of the small amount of fruit that they did occasionally produce.

  “This is the farm, our pride and joy,” a man said, approaching Damon with a smile. “I’ll show you the animals too, to give you a full tour.” The man led him down a short path, down to a small field that smelled strongly of manure.

  Ranging out among the weeds were a bunch of anorexic farm animals, including the thinnest pig Damon had ever seen. The cows all looked sallow as well, an unnatural yellow color that he had never expected to see. Their coloration made them look like some other animal entirely, so that he almost didn’t recognize them for what they were.

  “They probably haven’t told you much yet, but this is what you’re going to live off of, for the rest of the time you spend with the Order, so you better put everything you got into it. We only survive if we work together, and we’re only working together when everyone’s pulling their weight, okay? I’m going to take you back to the fields, and I’m going to get you a shovel. We’re moving some manure onto the plants. It might sound gross, but I promise you that eventually you’ll realize it’s the most satisfying thing you’ve ever done.”

  Damon’s head began to radiate pain anew, and he couldn’t tell if it was because of the fresh tunnel in his brain, or the thought of working on that farm.

  Charles was sitting on the same bench in the City Park that he always did, waiting. Peril, his doppelgänger, was nearby, standing immediately outside of the Privacy Room, where the Park ended. In order to guarantee the message was received, Peril was still just staring at his leather gloves, waiting for the ghosts to show up.

  A lot of thoughts were going through Charles’ head. He hadn’t had enough time to cultivate a stronger image. He wasn’t quite sure that he had enough men for what he intended to do. The men that had attacked the Karma Chip factory, and the men that would attack the Rehabilitation clinic, were fortunately not his own. They were connections he had been lucky to make early on, people that he had hired using part of his fortune. It had always worried him that somehow that part of his plan wouldn’t work, even though a lot of precautions had been taken during the transactions. He had always felt that somehow it would be discovered and traced back to him before its implementation, or that the man he paid would have just taken the money and never delivered. But it worked, or at least the first part had.

  The rest of the men would be his own, moving forward. He trusted no one else. But he had no idea how many of his ghosts would show up. It was entirely a function of how many of them were checking in regularly on his Card, like they were supposed to do. He imagined that a lot of them were consistent about it—the ones that he had seen since the escalation of events, he had told to follow the guidelines closer than they ever had before. They were prone to listen, he felt.

  Jackson and his men were the first to show up. Charles was somewhat confused. “How did you get here so quickly?”

  “You made it sound important,” Jackson said, “so we took a subway.”

  “How on earth did you do that?”

  “That’s a secret of the trade, Brother Charles.”

  “If you say so. I just can’t have any police officers showing up to this meeting of ours.”

  “They won’t. Not because of us, at least.”

  Soon more began to t
rickle in, and Charles began to worry about how conspicuous they would be. They had only had one other similar meeting, and it had caused quite a few people to stare, which was attention that he never wanted. “Only group leaders,” he said. “The rest of you go take a walk around the Park, or something.”

  Before long there was fifteen of them gathered there, almost more than he had hoped for. He signaled for Peril to come back and join them, which he did.

  “The plan is in its last phase,” Charles said. “No more recruiting. Put your Chip removal machines somewhere where they won’t be a hindrance to you. Make a quick visit to checkpoint beta, and get yourselves armed. We’ll be moving in from the Monastery shortly. This will be the gathering point for you, just like we planned. Chances are, I might not be here to meet you, but you move on with or without me, tomorrow, noon, World Time. The station is down the road. Is that clear to everyone? You ghosts are one of my best assets, you know what it means to avoid Karma better than anyone. Can I count on you?”

  There was a general muttering of affirmation from the crowd.

  “Good, very good.”

  One of them suddenly spoke up, his eyes gazing off into the distance behind them. “Guys,” he said. “Those are police officers. They’re headed straight this way.”

  “Jackson,” Charles said, angry. “You said it was going to be alright.”

  “I can promise you, Brother Charles, they’re not here because of me.”

  “How can you promise that?”

  Before he had a chance to respond, a searing beam cut through their midst, hitting no one, but splitting the ground apart between them.

  “They’re firing? They’re actually firing at us?”

  “Just run!” Charles yelled, over the confusion. “The plan is the same. Split up.”

  As they diffused, more beams rained down upon them, and Helicars were hovering overhead.

  Ronin 7

  Knife in Hand

  “I’M STILL MAD at you,” Toru said to Reiko, as they walked the night streets of Kabukichou, the red light district of Shinjuku. Haru had called Reiko at around seven, and told her to meet him at a club at ten. It was a Friday night, and the streets were alive with the buzz of activity. Neon images were burned into Reiko’s eyes, from the countless signs that she couldn’t avoid looking at. She was dizzy, and let Toru lead her as they made turns and pushed their way through crowds.

  “And for no real good reason,” Reiko said. “This is a strange place for a meeting, isn’t it?”

  “If we can meet here, it works,” was Toru’s concise answer.

  They found the club. Inside it was dark, and loud techno music was playing as the silhouetted forms of people danced. Reiko and Toru pushed through towards the back, where Haru had told them there was a staircase they should take. Reiko could feel the sweat of all the people she passed. It reminded her how humid Japan was in the summer.

  At the top of the stairs it was less crowded, and there were many doors that led into private rooms. They told a security guard that they were looking for Haru Nakata, and the guard walked off to use an intercom system, to ask Haru if they were invited, Reiko assumed. When the guard came back to them, he gestured for them to follow as he turned and went down a hallway.

  A multitude of strange sounds could be heard behind every doorway they passed. Music, talking, laughter, human exertion. Reiko tried to picture the contents of every room, in the brief few seconds she had before they had moved in front of another. Finally the guard stopped in front of a room, and knocked. On the other side, Haru yelled for them to come in.

  Inside, Haru was sitting at the edge of a bed with ten girls around him, one of them on his lap. They all wore tight, revealing clothing, and were covered in colorful shades of makeup. The room was darker than the rest of the club, and the bass of the music downstairs filled it. The girl on his lap was kissing the side of his face when they entered.

  “Is this a bad time?” Reiko asked, the first to say anything. She could hear the sound of the guard leaving, behind her.

  “It’s the time I told you, isn’t it?” Haru said. He stood up without warning the girl on his lap, which caused her to fall awkwardly to the floor, but he didn’t notice. He seemed to be fairly drunk, by the way he staggered to stand with them by the doorway. On his way, he became distracted by a drink he found on a table that was against the wall, which was littered with empty glasses and bottles. When he had finished draining its contents, he made it the rest of the way to the door, where they were standing.

  “I brought Toru,” Reiko continued. “Who did you bring?” She leaned around Haru, to stare at all of the girls behind them. “Programmers? These must be programmers.”

  “Prostitutes,” Haru assured her in a confiding voice. “Prostitutes aren’t programmers. But programmers are prostitutes, the converse holds true. It’s like squares and rectangles. Anyway, follow me,” he told them, as he walked out of the door. Reiko and Toru followed. After ten steps he turned around, went back to the room, and said, “Mineko, I believe I’ve paid for another several hours of your time, so if you’ll come along. The rest of you, whatever.”

  Instead of talking to Haru as they walked back downstairs, through the crowd of people, and onto the Tokyo streets, Reiko talked to Mineko the prostitute as they walked behind Haru and Toru. Toru spoke in quiet tones that Reiko couldn’t have made out even if she was paying attention, whereas Haru was yelling everything that he said, in a way that seemed directed to no one in particular, although Reiko assumed it fit into his conversation with Haru. Reiko didn’t care. She asked the prostitute, “Do you enjoy your job?”

  Mineko was unabashed. “I enjoy making as much money as I do, and for hardly any work at all.”

  Reiko said, “I’ve just graduated, and I have yet to find a permanent, real job. I guess you can say that I’m still searching the market, looking for the right fit. Are there any openings, at your job? Are they looking to hire?”

  The prostitute eyed her carefully, first to see how serious she was, and then from head to foot. Reiko was very aware that Mineko was evaluating her physical features, her sexual appeal, and she waited to be judged. Nearly all of her life, Reiko had been a very skinny, sexless thing, until just a year before when it suddenly happened all at once that she developed a full form, although she remained very thin. “You think you’re qualified for this kind of job?” Mineko asked.

  “I have a degree in psychology,” Reiko said. “And I’ve become quite the expert on rats, somehow. What more were you looking for?”

  “Maybe that’s enough,” Mineko said.

  “Describe to me the most interesting experience you’ve had, in your line of work. If you wouldn’t mind sharing, that is. I want to know what kind of experiences I could expect with this job, before I just commit.”

  The prostitute took a moment to think. They walked along the street, neon signs flashing, the smell of a street vendor’s food strong in the air. Reiko could barely hear. “This was a few years ago. I had a very rich customer, wore an expensive suit, had an expensive watch, drove an expensive car, had too much cologne on. The more I think about it, the more I doubt that he really was rich—he probably spent everything he had on the things that I saw, in the course of that night.

  “Anyway, he had a real country accent. Some people speak the very same language as you and yet you can’t understand a thing they say, you know what I mean? He wasn’t quite like that. You could understand the things he said just fine, but you could tell he had to put in a lot of practice to get there. It was still somewhere deep inside his voice. I tried to bring it up with him, but he wouldn’t talk about it. We didn’t talk about anything, really.

  “First thing he did was take me to a nice clothes place, and he had some lady pick out a dress and some shoes for me. He told me it was a gift for my services, and that he wanted me to wear them, so I changed. Then he drove me to a real fancy restaurant in Arakichou, where there was already a table reserved. Before we s
it down, he tells me to do whatever he says. I don’t know what he means, but I’m paid for that kind of thing, so I don’t think anything of it.

  “He told me I could order anything I wanted. I had never been to such a fancy restaurant, and I didn’t recognize anything on the menu, so I ended up just having a salad and some wine. After we ordered, some other woman shows up, and he makes a big deal about bringing up a third chair, introducing me as his new fiancé.

  “She has this indescribable look on her face. I’m not good with words, so maybe it’s my fault I can’t describe it, but really I’ve never seen this look before. So much anger, and at the same time so much sadness. And some other things that I can’t understand, because I don’t have strong emotions, I never have. She asks to see the ring. The guy is looking at me real worried, because he must have forgot that his fiancé should have a ring, and I tell this lady that I don’t believe in jewelry, that I’m just not that kind of girl, because I agreed I would play along with whatever he was doing.

  “I thought it was his sister maybe, who we were lying to. She’s wearing a wedding ring herself, and he’s not, so I ruled them being married to each other out. And he kept asking her about how his family was, his parents, and friends he didn’t talk to anymore, and she would always just give a short reply that they were fine, nothing to say. Except Jiro, Jiro died. It didn’t bother him that much. I thought maybe he was having family problems, and was talking in a public area to keep everyone respectable. Privacy makes people very unrespectable, that’s what I think, so it made sense.