“Me? No time off at all!”
“Why not?”
“Why not? Well, someone’s got to work, right? We don’t just shut down for the holidays, you know.”
“I didn’t mean it like that, just…” He hesitated.
He was completely transparent.
“I don’t have anyone to spend Christmas with,” I explained. “It’s been a busy year, and I didn’t have time for love.”
“In that case—”
“And I’m not interested in otaku.”
“Oh…” I wasn’t looking at him, but I could just imagine the hope draining from his face.
“Not that it makes up for that or anything… but will you come to the party on the twenty-third?”
“Me?”
“This year’s party is also a going-away party for Shion.”
“Oh, I see.”
The twenty-fourth was exactly six months after Shion’s arrival and would mark the end of her trial run. She would be returning to Geodyne. They still hadn’t decided if she would be returning to work here next year or if they would simply move her to a new, improved body.
Shion was sitting near the window, reading to a lady with failing eyesight the text of a letter from her grandson. I couldn’t hear what the letter said, but the woman was getting quite misty-eyed.
“Six months already,” Takami said. “She’s come an awfully long way.”
I agreed. She was far more developed than she’d been when she arrived. I had started out leading her by the hand, but now she had surpassed humans and was heading for a new frontier, toward heights we humans in our dementia could never hope to reach.
I could not begin to imagine how she might develop in the years to come.
“Thank God there was never any real trouble. Even that business with Isezaki died down.”
“Yeah…”
Takami’s ringtone interrupted our aimless conversation. The theme song to X-Caesar.
“Takami,” Okeya said sternly. “Keep that on vibrate.”
“Oh, sorry! Forgot!” he stammered, bowing his head. He switched it to vibrate.
Unlike hospitals, we did not have any delicate equipment and did not ban phones outright, but letting your ringtones fly was still frowned upon.
“Yeesh, it’s Isezaki,” he said, scowling at the screen. “I should never have given him my number.”
Then he answered it with forced cheer.
“Hello? Yes… right. That again? I understand, but as we have explained again and… huh? Yes, I’m at the facility now… What? Look out the window?”
Still on the phone, Takami stepped over to the window and drew back the curtain.
“What’s outside…”
He went white as a sheet. He was staring up at something, his mouth flapping wordlessly. Across the room, Shion noticed this and stood up.
“I-Isezaki!” Takami nearly shrieked. “W-w-what are you doing?”
I ran toward him and looked out the window. There was an old apartment building across the street from the facility. The walls were painted a dull light green. I had never counted, but it was at least ten stories high. I saw the building every day, so it was like trying to find the three differences in a newspaper comic. It took me a few seconds.
Then I saw the old man sitting on the roof, his legs dangling over the edge.
Takami, Okeya, Shion, and I quickly left the facility and crossed the street to the building. We talked to the manager there and left him calling the police and a rescue crew while we rode the elevator to the top floor. Then we took the stairs to the roof.
Leaden clouds hung in the sky. At any moment it might start raining. This high up, there was no shelter from the bitter December wind. I regretted not grabbing my coat in my haste.
Isezaki was wearing a thick sweater, sitting with his back to us on the edge of the roof. He must have climbed through the railing.
“Isezaki!” Okeya cried.
He turned around. “Stay back or I jump!”
We froze. He was old, but his voice was still powerful. He sounded like he was prepared to carry out his threat.
Extremely pale, Takami called out, “Isezaki, why are you—”
“You know what I want. Call your boss and get him down here. He’s gonna sell Shion to me. I’ve got the contract drawn up and ready for his signature.”
“B-but we can’t do that!”
“Deny me if you want. But you know what’ll happen if I jump, right? If people found out someone died because of your products, it’d be bad for business. Tell you what, I’ll call up all the TV stations and have them send camera crews over to camp out down below. Make sure they catch it all on video.”
“Don’t, please!” Takami said. He sounded like he was about to cry. “Look, a contract made under duress won’t be valid!”
“Sue me if you want. But the moment it hits the courts, the media will start a circus.”
“What do you think you’ll accomplish here?” Okeya said, trying to maintain her composure. But she couldn’t hide the tremble in her voice. “Nobody will take your side. They’ll all think you’re crazy.”
“Fine with me,” he cackled. “You know how this world is—every time a gamer kills someone, they all think violent video games made him go crazy. If they think I’m crazy, then it’s because of Shion! And Geodyne will take the blame.”
Takami groaned.
Isezaki pounced. “See? What have you got to lose if you sell her to me? There’s not a thing you can gain by turning me down. Think of your company! It’s better to settle this peacefully.”
He sounded so cocky. Like he was enjoying this situation.
I couldn’t think of anything to say. The sheer evil of the man was too much for me. He didn’t doubt his actions for a second. I was sure he’d engaged in all kinds of illegal activity and called it business. He was used to making threats and getting his way. Takami had no chance against him.
“Call your boss,” Okeya suggested. “He sounds serious to me. If we seem to be listening to his demands…”
“Well… but…”
“You can deal with the contract later. First, we save a life.”
“But knowing him, the contract will be airtight,” I said. “If we do what he says, there’ll be trouble.”
“You’d let him die to avoid trouble?”
“No,” Shion said. “It would be wrong to do what Isezaki says.”
We all turned toward her, surprised.
“What Isezaki is doing is logically and morally incorrect,” she said quietly, but with incredible confidence. “We cannot agree to something that is wrong.”
“Then what should we do?” Okeya asked.
“I will talk to him.”
“You will?”
“Yes. Isezaki trusts me more than anyone. If I can’t talk him down, nobody can.”
“No, no, wait! That’s d-dangerous!” Takami stammered. “He can’t help himself around you. What if he jumps on you while you’re talking?”
“It is possible.”
“And he wants to die with you! What if he grabs your hand and pulls you off the roof? You might be stronger than him, but what if you lose your balance and fall?”
“I am aware of the risk.”
“Then stop!”
“No, I will not,” she snapped.
Takami gaped at her. “Shion…”
“This is a risk I must take. Even if we prevent his suicide, he will not really be saved. It is not his body and his life we need to save, but his heart and mind. And I am the only one that can save those things.”
“No, I forbid it! I won’t let you! Do not go near him!”
“I will not obey that order.”
She turned her back on us and started walking toward Isezaki.
Takami took a step after her and shouted, “Shion! Klaatu—”
“No!” I shouted, jumping on him. I slapped my hand over his mouth before he could finish the emergency shut-down code. I tackled him h
ard enough that we both fell over. “No, let her do it!”
Takami struggled, but I was sitting on top of him, both hands on his mouth. He couldn’t talk.
“Don’t you get it? Shion understands. If she fails, Isezaki will die, and the project will be canceled. And that means she’ll die too! Right, Shion?”
I looked up, and she nodded.
“She knows she might die, yet she’s willing to try anyway,” I said, talking quickly. “She knows the danger, but she still wants to save Isezaki. She has found a motivation greater than fear of death. Now is the time to test Shion’s real value. You said it yourself—if androids are going to be truly useful to people, they must be able to take risks. And this is exactly the kind of risk they should be taking. How can you not see that?”
Takami stopped struggling. I slowly took my hands off his mouth. Suddenly embarrassed, I scrambled off of him and adjusted my skirt.
He sat up, breathing heavily, thinking.
“But… if she fails, then all our work…”
“Yes, I know,” Shion said. “It may be that I will ruin everything. But I believe that I am making the correct decision.”
“Ah, damn it,” Takami said, thumping the roof with one hand. “No matter what happens, it’ll all be my fault.”
He was silent for a long, long time. Finally he looked up, straightening his back.
“All right. I take responsibility. I choose to trust you over worrying about losing my job.”
“Thank you,” Shion said, bowing her head. “I intend to fulfill your trust.”
“Can she really do it?” Okeya said, still stunned. “Should someone go with her?”
“No, if anyone but Shion went he’d be suspicious,” I said. “We have to trust her. She is more likely to make the right choice than any of us.”
“What?” Okeya said.
“Oh, wait. Shion, hold on,” Takami said. He pulled out his phone, dialed my number, and the second I answered, he slipped his phone into Shion’s pocket. “Your phone can record conversations, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then record everything Shion and Isezaki say. If this goes to court, it will be vital evidence.”
“Okay.”
I pushed the record button. We would have a record of everything the phone in Shion’s pocket could pick up.
“Go get him, Shion.”
She nodded and muttered, “Let’s get ’em.” Then she began walking slowly toward Isezaki.
He did not notice at first. He just sat leaning against the railing, staring across at the center. The three of us stayed back at the roof-access door, nervously watching Shion’s back. I turned the volume on my phone all the way up, and we all leaned in to listen.
When she was two meters away from him, she stopped. “Isezaki,” she said.
He must have heard, but he did not turn around.
“Isezaki,” she said gently, taking another step closer. “Why are you doing this?”
He did not answer.
“Because you’re afraid to die?”
From this distance, we could not tell if he responded. But a few seconds later, we heard his voice whisper, “Everyone’s scared of dying.”
“I’m afraid of dying too. But your actions are not logical. Is this what they call desperation?”
“You could call it that.”
“Why do you wish to cremate me with you? I can’t understand that. Please explain it.”
There was a long silence. We could hear only the whistling of the wind. Shion did not try to make him answer. She just waited quietly for him to speak.
At length, Isezaki muttered derisively, “I’m a villain. I know that. Everyone hates me. Nobody likes me. Not even my son. My wife despised me. Even if there is an afterlife, she’s not waiting for me there. I don’t even believe in that crap.
“There is no hell, no heaven. When you die, there’s nothing waiting for you. Nothing at all. I was born from nothing, raised alone, and I’ll go back to nothingness just as alone. That’s the way I’ve lived. I thought I was ready. I didn’t think death would be so… lonely.”
His voice trembled on the last word. Even at this distance, we could tell his head was bowed.
“But now that it’s at my doorstep, I can’t stop being afraid. I know I won’t be here for much longer… and I can’t stand that.”
“I can understand how that feels.”
“I can’t do it alone. I want to share it with someone. But I don’t have anyone. I don’t even have a woman to cry over me.”
“I am unable to cry. I was not built with that function.”
“I know. But you’re the only one, Shion. You’re the only one that never hated me. Even after what I did to you, you never once looked mad.”
“I am unable to experience resentment.”
“I won’t live more than a few more years at best. Too late for me to reform, and I don’t even want to. But I want there to be someone who understands me.”
“I do not believe I understand you. I am especially confused by this desire of yours to destroy me.”
We were starting to fret. They didn’t seem to be communicating at all. I began to regret letting her go. This seemed to be beyond her. Opening the heart of an obstinate old man might just be too difficult a task for any android to handle.
“You can come see me at Geodyne anytime. I should be able to talk to you there. I expect they would even give me permission to visit you in your home.”
“No. Not enough. I want you to come with me to the next world.”
“Think about what you’re saying. Your request has no meaning. Even if there were an afterlife, I would not be able to go. I do not have a soul. And if there is no afterlife, then your request is even more illogical—”
“I know! I know it is!” Isezaki roared.
We jumped. He was getting really worked up now. I began debating whether I should use the emergency shut-down code.
“I know,” he said again, suddenly very quiet. “You don’t need to tell me that. I know that better than anyone. It’s pointless. It makes no sense. Burning you won’t accomplish anything. But what the hell else am I supposed to do? How else can I stop being afraid? How else can I die peacefully? How? How?”
Isezaki’s voice gradually trailed off into sobs.
Shion took two steps closer to him. She knelt down beside the railing and leaned forward so she could see his face.
“Isezaki,” she said, her tone noticeably nicer than it had been. “I’m sorry. I can’t save you from this fear of dying. I can’t do anything. All humans die.”
He just sniffed, beyond consolation.
“I can’t die with you either. Because I do not wish to die. Maybe if my death could save your heart, I would die. But that isn’t true. I don’t believe my dying would really save you, not in the way you need it to.”
If Isezaki made a sound, we couldn’t hear it.
“Do you know why I am at the facility?”
“To practice caregiving, right?”
“Yes. But improving my caregiving skills was not the only purpose. Meeting other caregivers, speaking to them, and helping them—these experiences taught me many things and accelerated my development. The memories I gained were critical. And you are part of those incredibly valuable memories, Isezaki.
“You are human, so there’s no way to make a backup of your memories. Your own memories will be lost when you die. In that sense, I can’t save you. But my own memories of you will remain. My memories will be copied and placed in the mass production models. Hundreds of copies of me will be made and shipped all across the world. We will help countless seniors. Protect them. Talk to them. Using skills I gained working here the last six months. I learned many valuable things about humans from you. And those memories will assist countless other people.
“The personalities of both humans and robots are informed by the memories they accumulate. What I remember about my time with you is an invaluable part of me. I will not fo
rget you, and the copies that are made of me will not forget you. Even after you die, as long as we exist, you will never be forgotten. Including our memories of this moment, of what we are saying now. So… does this help you at all?”
“It’s a small comfort.”
“Yes. As was this idea you had of my dying with you. As far as small comforts go, don’t you agree this one is better?”
“Why?” Isezaki said through his tears. “Why do this for me?”
“Not just for you. I want to save everyone who cries, everyone who suffers. I want to help relieve pain, not just physical pain, but the pain of the heart. I want to give happy memories to all humans as they die. If death cannot be avoided, then at least I’d like them to enjoy their last moments. I’d like to have memories like that too. Happy memories are good for people and good for me.”
When I heard that, I felt a warmth surging up inside me. Shion had found a goal around which to base her life. She had discovered a way to deal with the eternal contradiction all humans faced, with their fear of the inevitability of death. No one had taught her that it was not their bodies that needed saving, but their hearts; she had reached that conclusion on her own. And she had discovered a lofty ideal, that of spreading hope to the world.
She would be caregiver to all humanity.
“You speak of ideals. Dreams.”
“Perhaps I do. But I won’t know that unless I try. As long as I have a future, there is always the chance that I can make my ideals reality. That’s why I want to keep on living, meeting people, and gathering memories.”
She reached out over the railing.
“Please. Do not take that future from me. Do not leave me with sad memories. Let us make new memories. You still have time. More than enough time to make happy memories.”
Isezaki slowly turned around and gave Shion a puzzled look.
“But I’m a villain. Why are you trying to save a villain like me?”
“You have done many wrong things, but I have no intention of criticizing you for them. All humans make mistakes. It is their nature. I can’t approve of what you’ve done, but neither will I rebuke you for it.”
Her tone was gentle, but she sounded absolutely sure of herself.
“I accept everything about you, both good and bad.”
The Stories of Ibis Page 25