Mardock Scramble

by Ubukata, Tow

  –Hey, do you think that we’d be able to get permission for me to use this pool?

  Tweedledee was taken aback.

  –Gosh, I didn’t think Eve was going to ask to eat the forbidden fruit of her own accord!

  The Doctor’s words came flooding back to Balot. She’s not using that until I’ve gone over a few things with her. She’s owed an explanation. Balot realized that the Doctor must have been talking about the computer terminal in the pool. And she knew in an instant what exactly it was that she would be using it for.

  –What are you going to look up?

  Tweedledum was excited now.

  –There’s this man who’s hidden his past. I want to know where it is.

  –Past? Whose past?

  –A man called Shell-Septinos. An employee at OctoberCorp.

  Tweedledee and Tweedledum turned to each other.

  –What shall we do?

  –You should go call the Professor, Tweedledee. I don’t want to end up disposed of just for opening up an outside line without official clearance, you know.

  –You’re right.

  Tweedledee pushed up against the ledge of the pool and jumped out.

  He brushed the water off his body and slipped into his pants.

  –Wait here, Balot. I’ll introduce you to the god of Paradise.

  He headed off straight back into the rainforest, leaving Balot behind.

  Balot swam with Tweedledum as they waited for Tweedledee’s return.

  As she gave herself up to the water, her medicinal compresses began peeling off, and even the bandages on her wrists started to come loose. Eventually all her bandages started floating to the surface, and before long they were swallowed up by small contraptions at the edge of the pool that looked like miniature garbage disposal chutes.

  It truly was a well-designed pool. The water was maintained at a perfect temperature, and it was kept constantly clean.

  –What did Tweedledee mean by “god of Paradise”?

  –Oh, just that he’s easy to anger—the wrath of god and all that.

  Then Balot heard laughter. Through her earphone, but also with something at the back of her mind, using her interference abilities, her snarc. It was almost like telepathy. And it seemed to be unaffected by whether she was on the surface of the water or underneath it.

  –He’s the Supreme Warden of all of Paradise’s creatures—that’s one of his titles, anyway. If I said that he was one of the Three Magi, would that ring a bell?

  –I heard that the Three Magi made this place…but I don’t know the details.

  –Not to worry, babe, all will be revealed shortly, Tweedledum said as if to say that was the end of the matter, and dived below Balot. Her body was lifted up, and Tweedledum’s head appeared right in front of her, nostrils flaring.

  –Are you the only one who lives here, Tweedledum?

  –Nah, there’s plenty of others, but I’m the best value. Should I call the rest here? Some of them are at death’s door, though.

  –It’s okay. I don’t really want anyone to die on my account.

  Tweedledum laughed again.

  –Not many of the others can really speak like me, anyway. It probably wouldn’t be much fun.

  –The others—are they all dolphins too?

  –The majority, yeah, but not all. There’s also whales, but they’re too big to make it into this section. There’s also sharks and orcas, but they’re in the minority, and they’re blocked from entering here, so don’t you worry. I don’t really get on with those guys, truth be told. Tweedledee is pretty good at handling them, though.

  Balot was clinging to Tweedledum’s back now, and she snarced Tweedledum’s silver sunglasses directly.

  –You know Oeufcoque, right?

  –Yeah, I know him. He was here up until about six years ago. He’s just like me, a creature that was created to order on commission from the military.

  –Did you get along with him?

  –I got along with him well enough, yeah. I have no problems with that type of person. He’s a good egg. Handy having him around too. He’s not perfect, of course, plenty of character flaws, but basically I’d say he’s a good choice for a lover, babe.

  –It’s only you two who refer to him in that way.

  –What do you mean?

  –He doesn’t seem to think of me in that way.

  –Unrequited love, is it?

  Balot didn’t answer for a long time. Eventually Tweedledum broke the silence with a cheerful laugh.

  –Well, he’s a half-baked little thing, always indecisive and wishywashy. “I might only be a little mouse, but I’m a thinking mouse,” that’s the sort of thing he used to bellow. He’d do well to chill out a little.

  –He finds it hard to tell a lie.

  –Yeah, his species sniffs out emotions through body odor, Tweedledum said frankly, as if that explained everything. Seeing that it didn’t, he shook his head and continued.

  –He doesn’t even really understand what it is to tell a lie. That’s what makes him so awkward and indecisive. What a guy to fall for, right? Well, you’ll have plenty of time to work it out. It’ll test your patience, though.

  Balot laughed in spite of herself. She’d never thought the day would come that she would listen to a dolphin giving her advice on how to love a mouse. The whole world had gone crazy—but was none the worse for it. The world had always been a crazy place, and it might as well go that extra mile and get it over with.

  My reality is just that—my reality. As she thought this, she relaxed, and her emotions seemed to extend even further. Not that they hadn’t been spreading before, but now she felt that they had finally reached her heart. She was thawing.

  –I did a terrible thing to Oeufcoque.

  –Hey, where did that come from?

  Tweedledum slowed down, surprised.

  –I used him so hard that I ended up abusing him. And even then, he protected me to the bitter end.

  –Okay, I get it now. He’s back here for maintenance because of—

  –Because of me. I’m the one who made Oeufcoque suffer like that.

  –Well, he’s half immortal. You don’t need to worry too much.

  –Immortal? He won’t die?

  Balot was astonished. Tweedledum laughed and returned to the side of the pool.

  –He has a multidimensional body. When his body’s injured in one dimension, it can be repaired from another dimension. That’s the great advantage of a Living Unit. He won’t die unless you blow him to pieces in all the different dimensions, or crush the nucleus of his life. He does have a life span, though.

  –Life span?

  –Yeah, that’s the weak point of a Living Unit. All living creatures die sometime. As a matter of course. That’s the first principle of this sort of unit. And that’s what’s so remarkable about Oeufcoque.

  –What do you mean?

  Balot felt startled, and she grabbed onto the ledge to steady herself. She stared at Tweedledum, feeling that the conversation was entering dangerous territory.

  –Obesity.

  Tweedledum’s voice was curiously meek.

  –Mice gain weight all through their natural lives. They grow bigger and bigger. Can’t help it—something to do with their metabolism, So, even if you use longevity-enhancing procedures, as long as the weight issue remains, sooner or later they end up crushed to death by their own body mass. However much you try shunting your weight off into different dimensions, in the end you can’t outsmart Mother Nature.

  –A disease? And is there no cure?

  –Not sure you can really call it a disease, babe. More like the inevitable course of nature. That’s why, according to Oeufcoque, he first felt the need to leave this place—when he first had his intimation of mortality, as he put it.

  –What does that even mean?

  Tweedledum stopped for a moment.

  –Ah, who knows? It’s not as if I’m ever even going to be leaving this place. Ask him yourself,
why don’t you?

  Balot nodded, realizing that she’d touched on a sensitive subject. But she couldn’t stop herself from asking:

  –What about you—have you ever wanted to leave this place?

  She regretted asking the question as soon as the words had been transmitted. Tweedledum lifted his face into the air.

  –How would I live?

  Balot couldn’t answer. Indeed, it wasn’t really a question that Tweedledum was asking—rather, he was giving an answer. It hit home sharply. But Tweedledum continued in a gentler vein.

  –I have this ocean. I have peace, and I have plenty of stimulation and excitement. Maybe everything’s an experiment, but there’s a certain pride in knowing that my existence is, in and of itself, at the forefront of cutting-edge research. And, above all, I have Tweedledee. Nah, babe, I can’t leave here, but I also wouldn’t want to, even if I could. But what about you, eh? Why don’t you settle down here? With your Oeufcoque.

  –What, me…?

  –The outside is just full of danger, right? Locking out the outside world—that’s one way to ensure that life thrives.

  But Balot ever so gently shook her head. She whispered back,

  –I made my choice. To live outside the shell—to survive.

  –I get it…

  And then Tweedledum cried out for the first time. A fine, pure cry that seemed to squeeze Balot’s chest tight.

  –I wonder what the real ocean’s like…

  She heard his words just as clearly as she heard his keening cry.

  –They’re back, babe.

  Tweedledum spoke, and Balot rested her upper body on the ledge of the pool, sensing Tweedledee coming toward them through the forest.

  She thought that he was supposed to be bringing somebody with him to introduce to her, but he seemed to be on his own, carrying a boxlike object. A large one. From a distance it looked something like a birdcage.

  –Hi, sorry to keep you waiting.

  Soon Tweedledee was back with them, smiling.

  Balot went to pull herself out of the water with both arms, but her body suddenly became stiff.

  Tweedledee was indeed carrying a birdcage. Or at least something that looked just like one.

  And inside it was a human head.

  Tweedledee stopped walking and stood still. He was still grinning, evidently enjoying Balot’s surprise.

  The face inside the cage had the same expression.

  “Hello, Rune-Balot. I’m the Supreme Warden of Paradise,” said the face inside the birdcage. He was a man, on the old side of middle aged. His bright white hair was cleanly cropped, and he was closely shaven. His slender face was etched with deep wrinkles, but he had a refined, gentle expression. The only thing that was at all odd about him was the fact that he didn’t seem to have any body parts other than his head.

  “Everyone calls me Professor. Professor Faceman, that is. Quite an appropriate name for someone in my present state, don’t you think? Some people go one step further and call me Facemanin-the-Cage. Which is truer still, wouldn’t you say?”

  Balot had forgotten about even her own nakedness and was staring at the Faceman-in-the-Cage, as he put it.

  “Table!” Faceman ordered. Doing as he was told, Tweedledee interfered with—snarced—the ground by the poolside, and a white plane emerged, folding out to take the form of a round table.

  Tweedledee placed the birdcage on the table. Then he undressed again, quickly. His role now complete, he jumped straight back into the pool without a moment’s hesitation.

  Faceman watched, a serene smile on his lips, and then spun around slowly in his cage to face Balot.

  Balot slipped back into the pool without thinking.

  “Try snarcing my cage. We should be able to converse.”

  –Yes, sir, Balot replied reflexively. Faceman laughed indulgently.

  Balot felt Tweedledee splashing about behind her, but her eyes remained fixed on Faceman.

  “I’ve taken the liberty of examining your data. Such wonderful aptitude. But if it’s left unchecked, the technology you’ve had implanted in you is likely to have an influence on your maturity, your emotional well-being. Have you noticed yourself becoming overstressed because of this?”

  Balot shook her head. Without realizing it, she was touching her throat and the surrounding area on her neck.

  She was trying—not very successfully—to imagine what it would be like to have a body that didn’t continue below the neckline.

  “Well, it might have made you feel bad, at least. Access to all your battle data stored up inside Oeufcoque-Penteano—those were my terms for your use of the facility.”

  –Terms? Even as Balot spoke, she put two and two together.

  –So you’re healing Oeufcoque’s injuries in exchange for information about me?

  “Exactly. Hasn’t Dr. Easter explained all this to you?”

  –No, he’s been too busy treating Oeufcoque…

  But she wasn’t about to get downhearted because of this. After all, Oeufcoque’s injuries—and everything else—were her fault in the first place. She was determined to do anything to help Oeufcoque recover.

  “I wonder if I could have a look at how your transplanted metal fiber is doing?”

  Faceman only had to ask, and Balot was out of the pool, showing him her body.

  It wasn’t at all like when she used to have to do this when she was on the job. Rather, it was like receiving a medical examination from a doctor.

  “You’re still in puberty, I see. And so there are places where the fibers aren’t fully fixed yet, in order to anticipate any future growth spurts. Splendid. A most appropriate measure. It looks like we have no worries on this front.”

  Balot stood still, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

  “I was most impressed by the results of the analysis of your data—how tough you are. There was a time when we had to put an inordinate stress on military developments, you see. It wasn’t a particularly pleasant period, but even so, we had our targets, something to work toward. Your very existence is a work of art, as far as I’m concerned. Exquisite—and tenacious. You’re unique, a one and only, formed by a happy coincidence of a number of factors all falling into place—or would you rather I didn’t talk about you in such terms?”

  In all honesty, no, she didn’t particularly like it. She’d had all sorts of unpleasant experiences since she was first treated like an object.

  But then Faceman—still smiling his gentle smile—continued in a different vein, asking, “Oh, but this is rather unfair—a one-sided exchange of data. Is there anything you want to ask about me in return?”

  Balot was a little perplexed. She’d never asked anyone why they were only a head before and wasn’t quite sure what the correct etiquette was. In the end, she ended up asking in a roundabout way.

  –Is Faceman your real name, sir?

  “No, it’s my nickname in the lab. My real name’s Charles Ludwig. But there’s no one who refers to me as such anymore—including myself. As far as I’m concerned, I’m one of my own research subjects. Although that could just be an excuse for my longevity measures, to keep myself alive for as long as possible, I suppose.”

  –Longevity?

  “I had a few cancers gnawing away at my body, you see. The only thing to do was to get rid of it once and for all,” Faceman told her, as if he were talking about a routine everyday operation. “Having said that, we probably could have saved my body using some of the technologies we developed here—but I decided that my appearance now was more appropriate for me. You see, in addition to supervising the whole of the facility, I’m in charge of a number of different research projects. Twenty bodies wouldn’t be enough to withstand all the exhausting work that I’d have to put myself through. And if no body would be strong enough, I decided I’d rather have no body at all and stick to being the headquarters, literally as well as metaphorically—even if it’s a bit of a strained metaphor…”

  –But isn’t i
t inconvenient?

  Balot asked without really thinking, but Faceman just smiled proudly. “What do you think this cage is for? The wiring isn’t just some handicraft, you know. It’s cutting-edge technology that creates ideal air conditions. Every single wire filters out impurities—keeping the air inside fresh—and they also regulate the temperature and humidity. Even as we speak, subtle vibrations are flowing through the air, cleaning off my dead skin, purifying my surfaces, helping me to maintain a healthy metabolism. Far more agreeable than using your hands to clean your face with soap and water. On top of that, the two-inch-thick base of the cage has electronic interference capabilities, life-support systems, a gravity device, a hard disc with all relevant data, communications equipment, shock-absorbency devices—even self-defense mechanisms—everything you can think of, all built in.”

  It was quite a fluent exposition. Balot could almost imagine his chest jutting out in pride as he reeled off the list, and the incongruity made it hard for Balot to suppress a rising smile.

  And then it was Faceman’s turn to cast a mischievous glance at the table. She realized that he had interfered, snarced it. A silver object emerged from below the table, taking the form of a pipe chair.

  “Do have a seat.”

  Balot did as she was told. But it didn’t feel like she was being ordered about. Rather, it seemed like Faceman was genuinely enjoying her company.

  “I enjoy watching you—you’re a walking, talking reminder of just how gifted Dr. Easter is. But…you know, there was a time when he—and everyone else at the facility—was repudiated by society. I’m sure that Dr. Easter has told you all about it…”

  –“Everything turned topsy-turvy.” Balot quoted the words the Doctor had once said to her.

  –What exactly happened then, sir?

  “The Commonwealth government placed certain constraints on our scientific and technological research programs. Many of our discoveries were used in the Continental War, and they were too successful—they wreaked all sorts of havoc. This inevitably had an influence on the city’s decision to restrict our postwar research. The idea of using our technology on civilians was regarded with deep suspicion—prone to cause social unrest—and our experiments were declared dangerous.”