Roshike forced himself to focus on the ugly edifice that had reminded him of his failure to help regain control of his thoughts. Teresa was gone, and she wouldn’t return. There was nothing he could do about that, but he now had an opportunity to finish the work she’d wanted to do, so he could honor her memory by doing his job.
Evaluating the prospect of infiltrating this administration building, he hoped it wouldn’t be necessary. Sitting alone with no cover near, it would be exceedingly difficult to approach unseen, unlike the one in New Osaka. He could wait for another night of horrible weather to provide concealment. Or find a way to be admitted into the building legitimately. Either option likely meant sticking around here far longer than he would wish though.
A small circular road ran around the headquarters close to the building, which the vans turned onto and drove along until they came to the back. He hoped they’d be taken in to continue their registration, as he needed to note every detail he could discover about the place, but when the vans pulled up under an overhang sheltering the rear entrance and parked there, it quickly became clear that wasn’t going to happen. Not today.
Mr. Hiroshi left them in the van being watched by the guard and joined the gray-suited woman who had driven the other vehicle as she strode up a few steps and into the building. Roshike and the other candidates could do nothing but wait, and they did that in complete silence.
When the two administrators finally came back out of the Batsu headquarters, they were each bearing a medium sized box. Hiroshi brought his with him into the van and set it on the driver’s seat, then turned to address the candidates. “I’m about to give you your new, properly registered screens. They’ve already been linked to your official record, and you must use your thumbprint to activate them. Also to access certain functions you’ll learn about later. It’s important you take care of these, as you’ll find your screens are more vital to life here than what you’re used to on the outside.”
He took a screen from the box and pressed his own thumb against it. Then he glanced around and leaned forward, stretching his arm out to hand that screen to the gaunt youth sitting in one of the window seats.
Roshike nodded to himself. He might need his thumbprint to access his screen or unlock the door to his room, wherever that ended up being, but that didn’t mean he was the only one who could. There was an illusion of privacy with that kind of security, but nothing he could depend on. Not that he’d expected anything else.
As much as the Gaku-net could monitor where people went and what they did, at least to some extent, by tracking their screens, it was probable that everyone in this compound would be under greater scrutiny still. Particularly the candidates, who had yet to prove themselves to the Batsu.
Hiroshi continued to check each screen one by one and hand them to their new owners, including Roshike, who tried to take his with a similar expression of awe as the others. When that was done, the administrator addressed them all again. “Now, the cost of those screens is six thousand bits each, and if you check your account, you’ll see the amount has already been charged to you.”
The middle-aged man next to Roshike glanced up sharply at that. “I thought the price was part of the package that went with the ticket?”
The youngest looking of the candidates was sitting up front, close to Hiroshi, and he seemed to be near to panicking. “But my parents paid everything they had to get me my card—they can’t afford anything more!”
The administrator must’ve been expecting reactions like these, was probably used to something of the sort. He certainly wasn’t ruffled. “Not to worry. Your parents won’t have to afford anything. You’ll pay the cost of the screen and any other charges you incur out of the salary you get from whatever work you’re assigned.”
He switched his attention to the man sitting beside Roshike on the back bench, and his expression became a bit harder. “And possession of the candidate card is why you’re receiving such an expensive piece of technology on credit. Providing you make the cut as a citizen, you’ll easily earn enough to pay us back for your screen, as well as all the costs associated with your training and room and board, and any other charges.” He then bent down and made a note on his own screen. Probably marking the man down as a troublemaker.
Roshike didn’t want to draw attention, so he refrained from asking the questions he had after hearing Hiroshi’s remarks. What happened to the debt if someone didn’t make the cut to become a citizen? And what other charges might there be? The cost of the screen was high—by the time however much the expense of room and board and training was added on, all the candidates would be deeply in the hole to the Batsu. Which was probably the point. But since Roshike was an imposter and wasn’t going to stick around long enough to see the bill, he’d do better to keep his questions to himself. He certainly wouldn’t want to invite any additional scrutiny.
The administrator looked around to make sure no other questions or comments were forthcoming before setting the empty box on the floor and himself back in the driver’s seat. The van with the women had already departed, but in the event, they happened to be headed to a different destination.
He drove down the branch of the thoroughfare that began behind the Batsu headquarters and likely ran straight to the gate on the opposite side of the compound. They didn’t go nearly that far though. A couple kilometers along the road, Hiroshi turned the van down a side street and headed east, and Roshike continued studying the layout as the van trundled at an easy pace. Eventually they came to a halt at one end of a rectangular two-story building. This time their guide motioned them to follow him from the vehicle and led everyone along a short walkway, up a few steps, and in through a wide glass door.
Inside, standing in the middle of an empty lobby, Hiroshi turned to address them again. “This is the male candidates’ dormitory where you’ll stay—and it’s where we part ways.” He gestured to a corridor behind him and stairs off to one side. “You’ve already been assigned individual rooms, and those doors can be opened by placing your thumb against the security reader. And inside your rooms you will find the clothes you’ll wear as candidates. On each floor there are shower facilities and lockers you can also unlock with your thumbprint.” Then he began to leave.
He was stopped by the overweight middle-aged man who either hadn’t noticed or didn’t care about complaints being frowned upon here. “Wait. What are we supposed to do next? How do we know what room is ours?”
Hiroshi turned at the door and gave the man a thin smile. “From now on you’ll receive all your instructions from your screens. All you have to do is follow them.” And then he left them there.
The candidates looked around at each other for a moment, then turned their eyes to the screens in their hands. Placing his thumb carefully to activate his, Roshike saw a simple message flashing for him. Proceed to room 212. He showed that to the heavy-set man, who had yet to check his own screen, then started for the stairs.
As he took the steps two at a time, he heard the voice of the fellow again. “Perhaps we should introduce ourselves. My name is Futoh—”
The words were drowned out by the bustle of all the others dispersing, some of them clambering up the stairs after Roshike. He dashed down the hallway at the top and found the door marked ‘212’ on the farthest end. Standing in front of it, he paused to glance again at the screen in his hand instead of just pressing his thumb to the security reader. Enter your room now. To unlock the door, place your thumb against the surface of the small screen above the handle.
Roshike was irritated with himself for checking the screen for instructions despite already knowing what he had to do, and he pressed his thumb to the reader with rather more force than necessary. The lock clicked, and he pushed down the handle, then swung the door wide open, taking a good long look around before stepping into his temporary accommodations. Which were fairly nice.
Not as nice as the hotel room he’d been staying in for a few days before entering the Gaku, but
then he couldn’t have afforded that for long. Instead of a real bed there was a cot against the far wall, underneath a tiny window—the kind that could only open a crack to let in fresh air anyway. It wouldn’t be any use as a means of egress. Set against the wall next to the door was a metal wardrobe with two drawers at the bottom and a large cabinet above. Opening that, he saw several sets of tan uniforms already hanging there. And at one end of the room, a doorless opening led to a small bathroom. That was it.
With a sigh Roshike removed one of the shapeless outfits—a loose tan tunic and matching pants, but at least they had pockets—and held them up to see they seemed about the right size. He wondered if he’d been assigned this room because the clothes already here would fit him, or if the as-yet invisible worker bees had been busy stocking this wardrobe with appropriately sized clothes.
If so, they moved far faster than Hiroshi or anybody else he’d yet seen here. Turning his attention back to his new clothes, they looked loose and comfortable enough, but that light color would show up at night. No good for stealthy reconnaissance. He would need to hold on to his old clothes for that.
Checking his screen again, he found a new message awaiting him. Shower and change into one of your new uniforms before proceeding to your orientation. He took the clothes in his hand off the hanger and folded them up to take with him as he left his room, thinking as he went how quickly he was being conditioned to check that blasted screen for instructions. He had to be careful not to get into the habit of following them.
The individual lockers Hiroshi had mentioned—hopefully those would do for Roshike to stash his old clothes and the belt with his shadow screen and buttons while he showered, but if he left his clothes there, someone might come to collect them and he might not see them again. He’d have to find someplace to hide them. He’d keep his belt with him always though. Not only did it contain the tools he’d need to do the job he came to do—and hopefully get out afterward—it would be a lifeline, a reminder of who he was and why he was here. So he didn’t forget as he played his part.
Chapter 7
Locked In
Later in a large lecture room
ROSHIKE COVERTLY OBSERVED the other candidates as they streamed into the high-ceilinged hall. All sixteen were assembling here at the top of the hour, in a room meant to seat a hundred or so, according to the directions they’d gotten from their screens. Or so he assumed.
After showering and changing into his new tan uniform, he’d rushed back to his room with his old clothes and belt in a closely held bundle. Inside, he had fastened his belt flat around his stomach, so it wouldn’t show underneath the new, loose clothes he had to wear. Then he’d opted to simply fold his old outfit and leave it on top of the metal wardrobe and hope that would be good enough. Then he’d sat on his cot and waited for further instructions from his new screen.
One of the things that had immediately caught his interest about the way it worked was that it kept the current time running in the upper left hand corner. To the second, as if tracking time that closely could be of any conceivable use. But the Batsu obviously considered it important—precisely ten minutes before nine, a message had appeared saying he had to leave his room. The Gaku-net had then given him step-by-step directions from the hall outside his door to this large room that occupied the greater part of a small building. He and the other candidates had all arrived at the wide double doors at the same time. Within a minute of nine on the dot.
Despite their physical closeness as they’d straggled into this lecture hall, the initial taciturnity that had governed their tongues from the start still held. Only now it seemed even more awkward. Not talking to each other, they barely managed to make eye contact. Then there was the way the men and women stayed clumped together in separate groups as if being segregated from the start had built a wall between them. Roshike wondered how long it would last.
They were all standing close to where they’d entered, behind rows and rows of tiered and comfortable-looking seats that sloped gently downward with the slanting floor, when a small door to one side of the far end of the room opened and a stout, middle-aged woman walked in. Coming to a halt in the center of the empty floor facing those empty seats, and with her back to a giant screen, she called out across the intervening space without preamble. “Sit down and pay attention.”
Everyone, including Roshike, hurried to find a seat, but she didn’t wait for all of them to get settled before continuing. “My name is Noriko Williams, I am a level-six instructor, and I’m going to describe the majestic history of the Batsu, all the impressive activities we’re engaged in today, and your potential place in our efforts.” Then the lights dimmed, and the screen behind her flashed to life.
Sitting in one of the aisle seats on the last row in the back of the room and biting his tongue, Roshike forced himself to listen as the woman cheerfully described the official history of the reconstruction. It was a load of propaganda designed to make the Batsu look good. All about their continuing efforts to rebuild a devastated Japan that had languished long centuries in lawless violence. She left out any reference to the fact that it was the very same people who had destroyed the country in the first place who had then retreated behind the safety of these walls, who had hunkered here in the Gaku compound through those many generations, living in relative luxury as millions on the outside had suffered and died. And all that time doing nothing to help. And when they had eventually emerged from behind their fortified walls to begin the reconstruction, they were calling themselves the Batsu.
Though his training had been more focused on survival skills, Tetsuba had taught Roshike the gist of history as handed down by the Kyoushi. Enough for him to get the idea, and he was grateful to know the truth. As far as he could tell, comparing what he had learned with what this woman was saying, she was avoiding lies that might be exposed and simply leaving out inconvenient facts and a proper context to create a deceptive narrative. He wondered if the other candidates would be convinced by it.
After he’d left the Kyoushi and come to the city as an adult, Roshike had realized how the Batsu operated. Their reconstruction had lasted for several decades now, and while it had been beneficial for a fortunate few, most people still struggled with little or no help from the Batsu, despite all the resources supposedly dedicated to that purpose. Having seen that for themselves should make it hard for the others to swallow what she was spouting. At least, he hoped they would be skeptical.
Thankfully, though understandably, the lecture extolling the glories of the Batsu didn’t last too long. They had more subtle means of indoctrination, as he was already discovering for himself. They were using the screens to control the candidates’ every step and dictate the very pace of their lives, and making Roshike’s job that much more difficult. And he had to wonder if things were that different for actual citizens.
Then Noriko presented a giant map of the Gaku compound and an explanation of the general layout to help them get around. Of course he paid particular attention to that, but she only described details of the campus portion which occupied a big section south and west of the administration building, and that was at the center of the complex. He’d already discovered that, but it was helpful to see the precise locations of the candidate dormitories and their relation to the various study centers and lecture halls—and the cafeteria where they’d go for their meals. But it was no substitute for exploring on his own.
The matronly woman moved on to a vague description of the work they might be assigned as citizens. “The next phase of your orientation is testing to determine your individual aptitudes and current abilities and skills. Which will decide what work we want you to do and thus the training regimen you’ll begin tomorrow.” The screen behind her which had been filled with the happy faces of lots of contented citizens flickered off, and Noriko ran her eyes across the candidates, who blinked and squinted when the lights suddenly popped back to their normal brightness. “And that concludes the first part of your orien
tation. You’d better move along now.”
All of them immediately bent their heads down to consult their screens, presumably to discover directions to their next destination, as Roshike did—he only wondered if it would be the same for everyone. Being at the back, he was the first one out the door, but as he marched across the grass in the direction indicated, he glanced back to see the others filing out. And noticed the men following him and the women walking off in a different direction. So they were being segregated again.
Unfortunately their next destination wasn’t the cafeteria. Roshike led the male candidates to another clean, non-descript building, then into a waiting room off the entrance, bare and white. Against the walls were metal chairs with white padding, sitting on a glossy white floor. The walls were painted white and bereft of any decoration. And on the other side of the room from the door they’d come through was a second door leading deeper into the building. The room was small enough that they were forced to sit next to each other.
Roshike wasn’t surprised when the overweight, middle-aged man sat down beside him. “I’m called Futoh, in case you didn’t hear earlier.”
Introducing himself reluctantly, Roshike gave a little nod. Tash had said both his contacts were already inside the Gaku, so none of these other candidates could be one of them. But while Roshike did not want to get too friendly with them, he didn’t desire to alienate anyone either, so he prepared to engage in conversation. Before Futoh could continue though, as he clearly intended, a white-coated man came from the inner door and called out, “Futoh.”
The hefty fellow heaved himself out of his chair with a sigh, gave Roshike a pained smile, and then followed the newcomer back into the recesses of the building. Huffing and puffing a bit as he went.
Whispers of the Dead (Miraibanashi, #1) Page 8