She ignored his question and inquired, “Why were you asking about Claire Mutsuraga last night?”
Ben was surprised by the question. “S-she’s an old friend.”
“You were specifically asking if she was dead. Why?”
“I heard a dumb rumor. It doesn’t matter.”
“What is your relationship with her?”
“I told you, she was an old friend. I served under her father and she was like a little sister to me.”
“When was the last time you spoke to General Kazuhiro Mutsuraga?”
He hesitated. Did she know the general had contacted him? But it wasn’t possible for her to have traced a messenger that way – unless it was a test of loyalty in the first place? “Last night,” Ben answered truthfully, hoping the courier’s warning of the night before no longer applied. “First time I’ve talked to him in seven years.”
“What did he say?”
“He told me Claire was dead.”
“Anything else?”
“To take care of her funeral,” he replied.
“Anything else?”
“Not that I recall.”
“Think carefully,” Agent Tsukino urged.
“I am. Our conversation was short.”
“Did he mention where he was or where he was going?” she asked.
“No. He was very cryptic.”
“I’ve checked your portical calls and there weren’t any registered communications.”
Ben explained about the “flesh phone.”
“That’s an unusual method of communication,” she said.
“Everything about the call was unusual.”
“You filed a report about two female subjects a month ago.”
“I filed a lot of reports in the last month,” Beniko replied.
“One of them was concerning Claire Mutsuraga.”
There had been thousands of reports in the last week alone. A month was an eternity. “The same Claire Mutsuraga?” he asked, even though from her tone the answer was obvious.
“Yes.”
“What did the report say?” Ben asked.
“They questioned the sexual prowess of the Emperor as he has not been able to conceive an heir.”
“I hear that’s a problem many men are suffering because of all the radiation from atomics,” Beniko said.
“The Emperor is not a man.”
“I know. Nor was I implying as such,” he quickly assured her, irritated with himself for his careless comment.
The agent seemed annoyed. “Run me through your function here. Gaming isn’t my area of expertise.”
Most agents knew everything about their subjects before coming. Was she checking to see if he’d misstate something against what she already knew? Stick to the facts, Beniko. No exaggerations for face.
“The three floors above the lobby are devoted to content creation and that’s where they make the games for the porticals,” Ben explained. “Each floor has a different team of about a hundred designers, artists, and engineers working on their various fields. The fifteen floors above that are part of the Office of Moral Thought Protection. I-I’m in charge of the tenth floor.”
On the tenth floor, the desks were arranged in twenty rows of forty seats. Porticals were at each booth, three display screens per station. “They’re all hooked into the EKS, and our workers search through hundreds of thousands of communications daily to try to spot disloyalty among subjects,” Ben explained. “Filters are applied to private communications, messages, dates, sleep talking, anything that might arouse suspicion. Technical encryption, audio trackers, phrase recognition, and tonal analysis programs work in conjunction to uncover possible traitors. Almost everyone on this floor is from the civilian workforce. We have some enlisted technical specialists, but those are usually shared resources.
“Our section covers grids 550 through 725,” Ben stated, and pointed at the various locations. “Those sections correspond to specific regions of Los Angeles. We monitor everything, but our area of focus is games. We pay attention to the decisions people make in the gaming stories and their text responses. We’ve asked designers to purposefully implement potentially traitorous branches, so that if anyone takes those paths, they’re flagged.”
“Traitorous branches?”
“Say a swordsman is fighting for his Emperor and is given a chance to join a bunch of wandering ronin who are not content with the lack of jobs. If a gamer chooses to follow the ronin, they would be flagged and we’d dive into the rest of their record. See if there’s anything in their education, social report, and financial statements that might suggest a deeper discontent. I’ll be honest. Most reports don’t turn up anything. People playing games release their frustration in weird ways.”
“Are you sympathetic towards those who might be harboring ill thoughts to the Emperor?”
“Of course not. But it’s part of my job to distinguish between a gamer who wants to vent and someone who’s actually planning something.”
“I’m surprised that a man of your reputation for unquestioning loyalty would not see that all action is rooted in seditious thoughts. An old American religion used to have the saying, ‘if your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off’.”
Ben did his best to hide his frustration at his nervous responses. “Would you like some tea?” he asked, as they entered his office. “I have some da hong pao I specially imported from Mount Wuyi. It cost a fortune, but it was worth it as it’s the best tea I’ve ever had.” His office was on the corner, glass walls giving him an unhindered view of the ocean. Ukiyo-e inspired posters of the various games he’d worked on hung on the walls. His desk was made of mahogany with kanji about the history of Taiyo Tech written into them.
She slipped out a silver gun from her coat. A glass capsule filled with a green liquid jutted out the back of the handle. “Have you seen one of these before?”
“No,” Ben confessed.
“It’s a viral gun that rewrites the history of your blood. If I shot you with this, in five minutes you wouldn’t be recognizable.”
“That doesn’t sound very fun.”
“Not one bit,” she replied. “Our scientists in the Eastern Coprosperity Sphere developed this.”
“For Vietnam?” Ben asked, glancing over at the encased ceremonial swords he’d been given as an officer, trying to ignore the gun she was holding.
She nodded. “Why do people resist when the outcome is futile?” she asked.
“Because they’re insane,” he replied.
“So says the man who reported his own parents when they tried to commit treason against the Empire.”
Ben’s eyes drifted for a second and he tried not to sound too rote as he replied, “I am loyal to the Emperor and no one else. Anyone who defies the Emperor is insane.”
“What do you know about General Mutsuraga’s last few years?”
“Not much. He’s had it rough since his wife’s passing.”
“We’ve been tracking him for some time now.”
“Why? I thought he was retired,” Ben said.
“He has a connection to a game we’ve been investigating.”
“What game?”
“What do you know about what’s left of the Americans?” Akiko asked.
“There’s Colorado, but that’s a wasteland. The whole Rocky Mountains are where the remains of American society are hiding. I’ve heard they have underground cities and the people there kill each other over nothing. I’ve actually seen parents here tell their children they’ll abandon them to the American monsters if they don’t obey.”
“It’s a hive of dissension,” she confirmed. “If the Germans hadn’t asked for a moratorium on atomics, we’d have blasted it long ago.”
“Does Mutsuraga have a connection to Colorado?”
“Not Colorado. San Diego. A group you’re familiar with.”
“The George Washingtons,” Ben said, and felt the hair on his arms bristle.
“You fought aga
inst them.”
“Ten years ago.”
“One of our few conflicts to end in stalemate. Essentially a defeat because the GWs were able to get hold of atomics,” Akiko said.
“That was a bloody war. A lot of good officers died.”
“You survived.”
“I was a glorified clerk. Barely did any of the fighting.”
“Things haven’t changed much for you, have they?”
He ignored her taunt and said, “Mutsuraga hated the GWs. There’s no way there could be any connection between them.”
“Never underestimate insanity. Mutsuraga has helped distribute a seditious game to the citizens of the USJ that I believe was developed in San Diego with what’s left of their pitiful resistance. Unfortunately, the game has become quite popular throughout the USJ and is even said to be regularly played in Colorado.”
“What game?” he asked, even though he knew it was never good to overtly show interest in non-Japanese products.
“It’s called the United States of America, or USA for short. It imagines a world where the Americans won the war and tries to teach them how to win now through a simulator in the program. Preposterous on every level. Have you heard of it?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you report it?”
“I did in one of my roundups, but I didn’t know its name when I found out about it.”
“So you know what it’s about?”
“I have a basic idea. I agree, it’s preposterous. How do you know the general developed it?”
“Like I said, we’ve been tracking him,” Agent Tsukino said. “The game has all his marks on it. I hear you were once a good designer yourself.”
“I was OK.”
“You served in War Games with Mutsuraga.”
Ben recalled his service in San Diego and took a few breaths to ease himself.
“Tell your department to spend the rest of the day focusing on tracking anyone related to Mutsuraga’s family,” Agent Tsukino ordered.
“No problem.”
“I also want you to accompany me to Claire Mutsuraga’s apartment.”
“Me?” he asked, surprised. “Why?”
“Because her father is correct. Claire Mutsuraga committed jigai yesterday afternoon.”
Jigai – ritual suicide by knife to her neck. An image of her with a blade in her throat caused Ben to blanch. “Did she leave a letter?”
“No,” Tsukino said. “The matter is still under investigation. We’d been tracking her for some time, but hadn’t made a move, hoping she would lead us to her father. I need someone to look over her portical now that she’s dead.”
Ben had a hard time forming words and regained his composure only after seeing Akiko’s impatient glare. “When should we go?”
“As soon as you relay your orders to your department.”
Beniko pushed a few buttons on his portical, and wrote out the new directives. “Done.”
“Do you have your gun?”
“Will I need it?” he asked. “I actually don’t know if it’s at the office. I haven’t carried my gun in ages.”
“Find it.”
9:38AM
Agent Akiko Tsukino’s car was triangular and compact, like most of the electric cars on the road. As the doors were transparent, from certain angles it looked as though they were floating on air. Ben had expected special surveillance gear inside the vehicle, but there was nothing worth noting, not even decorations or memorabilia to give him a hint of her proclivities. She drove at a steady 40km/h and hundreds of cars to either side were going at the same speed. The huge signs on the skyscrapers appeared dead without neon. He fidgeted on his seat, looked right, and saw a big visual display about the new German art gallery.
“I’ve always wondered why the Germans drive on the wrong side of the road,” Ben said.
Akiko shrugged. “They like doing things opposite of everyone else.”
“Why don’t you use your portical to drive?”
“I like having full control,” she said, gripping the wheel tighter.
“But the portical can calculate speeds and angles perfectly for every permutation and–”
“I won’t put my life in the hands of a portical,” Akiko cut him off. “How long have you been at Taiyo?”
“Eight years now.”
“Is it normal for a man to remain at the rank of captain so long? Just by natural progression, you should be a major or colonel.”
Ben was about to agree, but knew he should be cautious. “Depends.”
“On?”
“Maybe politics?” Ben guessed. “I thought I was getting promoted last night. A few friends said I would, but I wasn’t. I don’t know why and I don’t question too deeply. I’m happy in my role and will serve, whether it’s as a captain or a warrant officer. What about you? How long have you been in the Tokko?”
She turned her head. “Five years.”
He wondered how old she was, but thought better of asking.
“You attended the Berkeley Military Academy for Game Studies,” she stated.
“Almost twenty years ago. Why?”
“We’re alumni.”
The Berkeley Military Academy for Game Studies – BEMAG – was built over the remains of Berkeley. The whole city became a military institute and, since most of San Francisco was abandoned while its buildings remained intact, it was the perfect grounds for battle simulations. One of the best mecha training schools was there as well, the pilots able to practice in the bay. Berkeley itself was isolated apart from the Academy students and a civilian staff of merchants who supported them.
“How is Berkeley these days?” he asked.
“They’re expanding.”
“Do they still have that Korean restaurant in the Asian ghetto? It was my favorite place for kimchee soup.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Akiko answered.
“What restaurants did you like?”
“I ate whatever food the cafeterias provided.”
“Let me guess. You graduated near the top of your class?”
“I ranked ninth,” she answered. He was impressed. BEMAG remained one of the top military institutes, second only to the Military Academy in Tokyo. “What about you?”
“Near the bottom – 682.” Out of 684, he didn’t add.
“That’s bad.”
Ben laughed. “I shouldn’t have gone. A military board felt I deserved a chance and got me in on one of their special requisitions. Other students hated me for it because they felt I cheated my way in.”
“Your faculty reports said you spent more time chasing women than studying.”
“Guilty.”
“I’ve looked at the records of the rest of your class. You have one of the most undistinguished records.”
“Being a censor is an important role,” Ben said.
“Most of your fellow officers served with honor in San Diego.”
“They were smarter and more talented than I was.”
“Of all the officers I have visited, you are the first to be so eager to put yourself down.”
“I’m just an honest appraiser. Where is her apartment?”
“Downtown. We’re almost there.”
10:15AM
Downtown Los Angeles was full of tall buildings and a city hall that was architecturally based on the Imperial Castle in Osaka. Huge portical screens displayed advertisements and newsreels of various victories in the Empire’s war efforts. A massive mecha that was fifty meters tall and shaped like a man in a samurai suit patrolled the streets. Its mobility was limited so that it didn’t cause too much of a commotion when it moved, rolling via the massive wheels under its feet. Soldiers in rocket packs glided next to the mecha on routine patrols. There were a few people heading to restaurants for an early lunch.
Claire Mutsuraga’s apartment was in an eighty story high-rise. There was already a guard at the door and the interior of the apartment was a mess, having been searched earlier by the police. I
t was a three-bedroom unit, with wood floors and what had once been brand new furniture, though the sofas and mattresses had been ripped open by the police. There were several marble statues, fancy French paintings, and a holographic projector in the middle of the living room.
“Pretty ritzy place for a student,” Ben noted. “I guess that’s the perks of having a general for your dad.”
He saw a series of picture frames and remembered the general’s face. Mutsuraga was the game designer who had made the Honor of Death series, one of the most revered franchises in portical gaming. He saw Mutsuraga’s last few games on her wall, massive hits covering the Chinese Rice Insurrection and the Korean Civil War.
“What was your relationship to the general?” Agent Tsukino asked.
“I served under him.”
“Did you like your service?”
“Mutsuraga was a legend among gamers. I was honored to serve him.” Ben scratched an itch on the side of his wrist. “He was the most decorated officer in his class and we were all told to follow his example.” There were pictures of the general at his own graduation on the wall surrounded by officers congratulating him. Mutsuraga was invited to be part of the elite student group, Sumera (a play on the Japanese word for Emperor as well as a reference to the first known civilization, Sumeria), straight from Tokyo Military Academy, which was a big deal.
“You didn’t do a good job,” Agent Tsukino said. “When he was teaching there, he had you reprimanded multiple times for being lazy and undisciplined.”
“He was a harsh teacher.”
“He was harsh because he was one of our best. He served with distinction in Mexico and was a brilliant tactician,” she said.
“Of course. And after the armistice, he founded Shudarin Design Works and created some of the best war simulations in the Empire. Everyone wanted to work at Shudarin, and not just because of the amazing perks.”
“You’re familiar with his games then?”
“Very,” Ben answered. “I helped him on some of them. Minor stuff that was mostly thrown out because of sloppy coding.”
Ben examined another picture of Mutsuraga and his daughter on a fishing excursion. Claire looked unhappy and bored.
“I’ve read the reports of his wife’s accidental death in San Diego,” Akiko said. “Our soldiers bombed a civilian market that was mistakenly reported as a rebel stronghold. Media reported it as a terrorist attack, but everyone within the corps knew the truth.”
United States of Japan Page 5