Pornopsychedelica

by Chris Johnson

  The man was right behind her, probing at her naked thighs, shouting something to be heard over the cacophony of the band. Tomoko turned to him, the drop knife held low before she thrust it up into his groin. His body convulsed and she felt the air punch out of his lungs. She twisted the blade and pushed deeper, felt the tip scratching into bone, watching the shock and terror on his face when she dragged the knife to his sternum. She felt warm blood and innards pour over her hand. He seemed to be trying to form words, but she let him fall, crumpled against the bar.

  She folded the knife and slipped it back into the purse, wiping her hand on a girl's dress before moving to Teja. The other man wasn't grinning any more when Tomoko kicked him into the tunnel. His head bounced off the wall when Teja punched him.

  'Let's find Ichiro,' said Tomoko.

  The tunnel turned out to be more containers welded together, the same dim lights strung across the ceiling. Tomoko could hear voices, feet clambering on metal, but it was impossible to tell where the sounds were coming from. The tunnel had come apart further along and a makeshift walkway had been made to get from one side to the other, black water below covered in a film of oil. Tomoko went first, glancing back to make sure Teja was following.

  A shot flashed from somewhere ahead, hitting the metal behind them. Tomoko fell against the wall, firing blindly into the dark. She moved forward, felt the floor sloping, peeked around the corner.

  She saw Ichiro with three guys, one raising an automatic weapon and firing, brass glinting in the muzzle's flare as it flew from the ejection chamber. She ducked back, deafened by the rounds clattering into the wall. She waited a moment, no footsteps coming her way, then poked her head out quickly. She urged Teja to keep up with her.

  They ran after Ichiro, no idea where they were going or what they'd run into. Sounds of shouting, gunshots, Ichiro making animal grunts, still that annoying bully he'd been as a kid. Feet pounded the metal floor, footsteps they were chasing doing the same. Then they were out of the tunnel and back on the dockside, relieved at the night air. Ichiro and his friends were running toward a two-storey building, turning to pop off random shots. Tomoko and Teja ran after them, weaving around the debris left on the dockside. Teja seemed to instinctively know what to do, when to move and when to hide. They entered the building, taking cover behind a fork lift. Tomoko could smell salt and fish.

  'Hey, Tomoko.' Ichi's voice sounded from somewhere above her. 'How'd you get away? I was hoping you'd be dead by now.'

  She caught sight of him running along a platform over her head and fired two shots, both hitting the steelwork. Another man followed and Teja raised her gun, shooting him in the head and making it look easy.

  An automech rolled past, plastic doors sliding open to allow it to pass. They ran for the gap and managed to slip through before the doors closed. Huge stainless steel vats, automechs moving trolleys, operating conveyor belts and other machines. A gate opened and giant tuna came sliding down a ramp, fins and tails unmoving.

  She could hear the rumble of a machine at the other side of the wall, maybe an automatic fishing vessel returning with its catch, bringing back those giant re-engineered fish. Ichi appeared briefly above her and fired a single shot.

  Tomoko crouched beside Teja. 'The other two have gone in there.' She pointed to a far corner, doors and windows that seemed to lead to an office or maintenance area. 'Make sure they stay there. Do you think you can do that?'

  'Is that it?'

  She put her hand on Teja's knee. 'I don't know what you're capable of.'

  'Tomoko, I can do anything you need me to do. I only have to see it once.'

  Tomoko flinched when a gunshot impacted the wall above them. Teja barely seemed to blink. 'We should have had this conversation two hours ago.'

  She watched Teja disappear behind one of the huge vats before she moved out, using a long stainless steel counter as cover. She moved under a conveyor, a mech using a buzzing saw to chop through a tuna's tail. More tuna came sliding down the ramp above her, mechs going to work with knives and gutting tools.

  Shots impacted close by, a tuna falling off the belt and landing in front of her. She had to crawl under more conveyors, shuffling along as fast as she could, heavy fire hitting the machinery over her head. Mech casing, circuits and pieces of fish bounced across the floor.

  She heard Ichi shouting, couldn't make out what he was saying over the gunfire. She had to move, get to somewhere with better cover. A reflection flickered across a shiny surface. She dropped down quickly, heard footsteps coming her way, then jumped up and shot the guy in the throat. It gave away her position, Ichi and another man shooting at her as she ran, falling between two silver vats that reached all the way to the ceiling. Tomoko guessed she had three or four rounds left, changed the magazine while Ichi and the other guy moved around the place to get closer. She fired at Ichi, the shot disappearing somewhere behind him.

  Tomoko tried to squeeze deeper between the vats, the gap offering barely any cover if they managed to get in front of her. The nearest place from here was maybe twenty-five feet away. If Ichi used his head all he had to do was wait or force her to make another run for cover.

  'Tomoko,' Ichi shouted. 'We can be friends, just like we were back in Hiroshima.'

  'We were never friends, Ichi.' She stank of fish, her hands wet and oily.

  'Sure we were. You just don't remember.'

  Tomoko took a quick look, Ichi standing closer than she thought. She saw the fat barrel of a grenade launcher in the hands of the man standing next to Ichi, then she heard a dull thunk and watched a projectile arc through the air toward her. She sank as low as she could, hand over her head. The shockwave shook the building, dust and glass littering the floor.

  Tomoko staggered out of the gap, running when a second grenade passed over her head, landing between the vats. She heard the metallic clatter as it bounced around, then the roar of an explosion and she was knocked off her feet. She barely had time to see where Ichiro was before a thousand gallons of fish blood fell in a tidal wave from the ruptured vats, washing her across the floor and underneath a conveyor belt.

  She raised her head, liquid lapping around her face, saw Ichi through a red haze running toward her with a katana. She got to her feet, scraped her hair back and wiped the blood from her eyes. She could see Ichiro's impatience to get to her, see his confidence because she was unarmed and he had the sword. He came in fast, each step splashing up blood, laying an inch deep across the factory floor.

  She avoided the first slash, a second and a third, moving her body and predicting his movements just like Saigo had trained her. She got two kicks into his body, high and low, ducking under the blade and getting a kick into the side of his knee. He yelped and hopped back, swinging the sword clumsily. She could see the panic on his face now.

  Ichiro waved his arm angrily. 'Shoot the bitch.'

  The other guy nodded. He tried pulling a gun from his pants, but seemed to be struggling, unsure for a moment about putting the grenade launcher down. He started shaking. He dropped the launcher, picked it up and fired it into the ground.

  The grenade bounced up, spun into a light fitting and landed back down at his feet. Tomoko had already taken cover when the grenade exploded, the blast of fire and smoke tearing upwards, throwing his body like a rag doll across the room and leaving one of his legs behind.

  Ichiro howled a laugh and ran for the exit.

  Tomoko shouted, 'You'd better run, Ichiro.'

  She saw the Glock she'd dropped and retrieved it.

  She followed Ichiro outside, dazzled by the lights on a fishing boat tacking along the dockside to the fishing plant. She could see shapes, Ichiro distinctive with the katana and the limp, two other guys running to meet him. She could hear Ichiro yelling, snarling orders. Then Teja stepped out from behind a truck, a hail of gunfire lighting up the darkness, a continuous crackle until all three men were lifeless on the ground.

  Tomoko shook her head, irritated by fish blood run
ning into her ear. She saw the expression on Teja's face. 'It's not my blood.'

  Teja looked around, to the junk on the dockside and the abandoned machinery. 'I can hear a lot of motorbikes starting up.'

  'Where are those other men?'

  Teja put the gun into her purse. 'I thought you wanted me to shoot them.'

  'Yeah. Good.'

  'What about Ichiro's people?'

  'It's not Ichiro's people we need to worry about. It's the people he works for.'

  42

  Revolution

  Tomoko had telephoned Willard on the way to Kiyoshi's. He couldn't tell her much, only that he'd been with Peter and two of Yamaguchi's people when he'd confirmed the authenticity of the tickets. Ticket ID's had been locked in for Fernandez and Yamaguchi's grandson.

  Willard had said he'd been told to leave Peter's hotel suite when he'd done his job, leaving Peter alone with Giselle and Yamaguchi's lawyers, but that he'd seen a fat briefcase before he'd left. He had told her he'd not seen Kameko. This is Tokyo, he'd said, a young fashionable woman with money would probably be shopping. Tomoko thought about Jefferson, remembering his hand on Kameko's waist when they'd walked away from her.

  They entered Kiyoshi's building through a back door, taking the stairs at first and then the elevator. Everything seemed quiet in Kiyoshi's apartment and they went straight to The Hub. Tomoko set Teja to work to see what she could find out about Peter's movements, which roads were blocked and where the city had erupted into a battle zone.

  Tomoko called Jiro and told him to drop off some gear she'd left with him. He said he was at the other side of town but he'd send someone.

  Teja's nose wrinkled. 'You should have a shower.'

  Tomoko knew she had to be fast, washing her body in the shampoo she'd used on her hair. The derma patches were releasing their own drugs which helped to dull the pain, speed up the healing process. She saw Kameko when she closed her eyes to wash blood and soap from her hair.

  She patted her body dry, wrapping the towel around her when she went back to The Hub. Teja was still at the keyboard, two canvas bags on a table, exactly the ones Tomoko had left with Jiro for safekeeping. She must have been in the shower for longer than she thought. She unzipped the smaller one and pulled out everything in there, clothes in sealed clear wrappers. Light black leather shoes, pants and a green top.

  'This is the third time today I've changed my clothes.' She dropped the towel and stood naked, rummaged through the other bag to find some underwear. Kiyoshi's body was still on the floor, just where he'd fallen after Teja had shot him.

  'What have you got there?' asked Teja.

  'Weapons and clothes I left with Jiro. I left bags like these in every major city in Japan.' She started to pull out guns and ammo boxes.

  'What have you got for me?'

  'Clean clothes, new gun. We need to stop Fernandez from getting on that ship. Get on every social media platform you can, spread lies and gossip, get the riots worked up into a frenzy and get them around Fernandez's hotel. Get a network organised. Make up some false ID's, make them sound important, like maybe army generals or pissed-off cops, get the people to follow them. Say they want streets blocked, cars on fire, walls of burning tyres. Anything to stop the army from picking Fernandez up.'

  Teja rattled away at the keyboard, working information across three monitors as skilfully as Kiyoshi ever could. 'What about the police?'

  'We outnumber the police and the army ten million to one. Just get it started and you can finish it on the move.'

  Kiyoshi's phone started to buzz. They could hear more phones ringing in another room.

  43

  The Lamentation of Montejo Abokado

  They'd found one of Kiyoshi's cars in the basement, equipped with autodrive and an hydraulic ramp in the back. They'd suited-up with everything they'd need, or at least everything offered by the bags Tomoko had stashed away.

  Light body armour fitted into a loose-fitting jacket, capable of stopping a small calibre bullet. It would still leave a bruise like you'd been hit by hammer. Holsters for two 9mm Glocks, hip and under arm, pockets for four magazines. Tomoko had slid the seven-inch drop knife into a Velcro pocket on her thigh. When they hit the street, three cars came screeching to a stop outside Kiyoshi's building and seven armed men ran inside.

  'Where to?' asked Tomoko. She'd disengaged the car's computer to do the driving herself, swerving to avoid random groups crossing the street, other motorists driving like rules no longer applied. Shops and businesses were still open, salarymen making their way to bars, college kids walking home or catching buses, shoppers carrying groceries. Two massive army trucks went past.

  Teja sat on the passenger seat, fingers tapping rapidly at one of Kiyoshi's laptops. 'I just sent the location of Peter's hotel to the car.'

  Tomoko checked a screen. 'That's right across town.'

  'They must have moved to another hotel. It doesn't matter. We have plenty of time.'

  'What about Fernandez?'

  'Same hotel.'

  'How's it going?'

  'My revolutionaries are awaiting their orders.'

  She gave Tomoko a grin and went back to the keyboard, fingers a flurry of movement. She had multiple screens open at the same time, jumping from one to another. Messages appeared continuously.

  Tomoko wanted to ask what she was doing, but decided it was better to leave her to her own world of organised chaos. She had to get her thoughts into some kind of order, think about what she needed to do if Peter had already left and was on his way back to Malaysia, if Fernandez managed to board the flight.

  They were driving across the city, under the glow of street lights, the uncertainty when they passed through an area that had lost power, then the glare of neon and adverts on giant screens. Sirens screamed and flashing emergency lights lit up the night. And they were edging closer to the epicentre, the car slowly edging up a winding, black river, cruising through pockets of violence, people wondering the streets, desperate for answers.

  She tried to think of a plan, remember Saigo's training - when they'd pass a random building and he'd ask her how she would get inside - but Fernandez was still there, she could still feel him, taste him in her mouth.

  They hit the freeway again after driving through back roads for several miles, police and the military at every intersection. She could see the hotel in the distance, rising out of the concrete and glass of the city. The car told her to turn off and follow a flyover, diverting them around a road block. A drone buzzed alongside them offering data feed, all that advertising crap it could dump into the car's server. Teja hadn't looked up from the screen for over an hour, fingers constantly rattling the keyboard.

  They were moving at walking speed now, Tomoko constantly having to stop the car when the crowds closed in. 'We might need to start walking,' she said.

  Teja pointed through a brief gap in the crowds, to twenty or more people standing in a circle. Tomoko turned the wheel, beeping the horn twice. A few people banged on the car roof. Something hard struck the back of the car. Tomoko pulled up behind a parked car and mounted the sidewalk.

  Teja got out and pushed through to the people holding candles. When Tomoko joined her, she could see that they were Western, refugees probably from somewhere in Europe. Women cried, men looked angry or bewildered. Teja was talking a language Tomoko didn't understand.

  Whatever she said, they all suddenly became animated. She was going around the group, hugging people, her hands to her face and tears rolling down her cheeks. She was holding her palms together, as if in a prayer, and looked up to the sky, lights reflecting in her eyes. Six drones were coming down, warning lights flashing. People scattered out of the middle of the road. Each drone in turn dropped a box on the ground, maybe a metre square. Teja tore open one box and then another. People were forming a line, jumping to obey Teja's orders.

  People who couldn't wait dived into the boxes, taking what they wanted and disappearing, others throwing items out into
the crowds. Teja was handing out T-shirts, placards on extendable poles, loudhailers and airhorns.

  Teja raised her arms, as if she was about to conduct a great orchestra, shouting, 'Mon-te-jo! Mon-te-jo!'

  Tomoko unfolded one of the T-shirts. The same image printed on the front appeared on a giant screen high up on a building. It was a picture of a man lying on a bed, naked apart from a thin blanket covering his legs, his face turned away slightly from two weeping women to his left. All the fine detail had been taken out, replaced by black and a blue-grey. There were two bullet holes in the man's chest.

  Tomoko threw the T-shirt into the box. There seemed to be thousands of them. 'Who's paid for all this?'

  'Kiyoshi.'

  'It's only been a few hours.'

  'Automatic printing factories.'

  'Who's the man? Is he dead?'

  'Killed by the police during last week's demonstrations.' They were pushing through the throng, to a wider part of the sidewalk with less people. 'Montejo Abokado, a man of strong family values. He came to Japan as a refugee from Argentina when he was twelve, having escaped the horrors of war and the flu epidemic. He'd been in Japan for twenty-four years, had a beautiful Japanese wife called Mari. He'd been a teacher in a local school, a coach to aspiring soccer players, a guiding hand for the blind, a saviour to the homeless. He was an activist and a fighter for equality. And the police shot him dead.'

  'And you made all that up.'

  'Every single word. But to these people he's real. He's been active on various media platforms for decades.'

  'How did you have the time to do all that?'

  'I didn't. I came up with an algorithm once I'd established who he was and created a bot that replicated itself and created thousands of fake profiles and news feeds. AI computers with nothing to do, talk to them nicely they'll do anything. Once word was out that Montejo had been killed, the bots went furious and urged people to join the protest, take to the streets. They think members of the police and the army have deserted to join them.'