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I tightened my robe and padded barefoot to the exit. As I stepped outside of the sterilization chamber, I heard other panels sliding free and murmurs of appreciation, as warmth and the sweet, spicy smells of the park wafted out to greet other visitors.
The arboretum, a marvel of agricultural and horticultural engineering, was a soothing oasis between the main gate and city center. After such an inhospitable greeting, I was surprised to find this section of the holodome unchanged.
The white tiles of Decon Central gave way to a wooden walkway, a concourse that stretched through a canopy of camphor and red pine trees, before arching over a series of moss-ringed pools. I'd barely set foot on the first bridge, when a computerized voice—female, this time—assaulted my ears.
"Doctor Mazawa's keen interest in conservation has allowed New Edo's scientists to perfect water purification efforts, now making it possible to preserve many species that were once near extinction. The trees that shade your journey, as well as the yamame and zarigani you see in the pools below are just a few examples of advances made possible by the great Doctor Mazawa..."
It might've been impressive, had any of it been true. I leaned over the railing, while the voice rambled on about how the trout and crayfish were raised for toxin-free consumption for the holodome inhabitants. I'd been looking forward to having fresh seafood, fresh anything—I couldn't remember the last time I'd eaten something that didn’t come freeze-dried or in a foil wrapper—but my stomach knotted at the sight of those oversized trout and crayfish.
I'd also hoped that the annoying narrative was motion-controlled, but it continued after I left the bridge, extolling the new Doctor's many virtues, along with his singular commitment to optimal health and wellness. I didn't need to hear about those advances. I could see evidence of one of them on the concourse in the group of Saisei hopefuls I'd seen outside, a dozen girls whose expressions ranged from dazed to resigned.
One of them, heavily pregnant and barely in her teens, broke away and waddled over to me. "Are we far from the Saisei Detention Center?" she asked.
"I wouldn't know. I've never been there."
Once voluntary, the Gestation Sanction had become compulsory under Mazawa's regime. Now, all pregnant women were required to present themselves to the holodome for viability testing, as well as confinement for the duration of their pregnancies.
"Is that where you're going?" The smile that accompanied this lacked quite a few teeth and her eyes had a glazed, faraway look about them. I wondered if one of her friends had given her something. She'd need it.
"No, I'm just visiting. Is this your first pregnancy?"
"I had two miscarriages before him, the last when I was fifteen," she said, rubbing her belly.
"Him? How do you know it’s a boy?"
"By the way he kicks," she said, laughing. "He is strong, not like the others. He will be a good soldier. When he is born, I will become the youngest Saisei in my clan and earn enough rations to feed us for a year! I cannot wait to become a Saisei!"
A tall haggard woman emerged from the group. "Noriko, that's enough. Stop bothering this person." She gave my flat belly a suspicious glance while tugging at the girl's sleeve.
"I'm not bothering her," Noriko said, her words already starting to slur.
"And keep your voice down. You think this is a game, but becoming a Saisei—if you become one—is the hardest thing you will ever do!"
She was right. If she carried the baby to term, Noriko would never see her child again. The title and rations she'd receive seemed paltry rewards for such a sacrifice, although to many, becoming Saisei was preferable to a Shokohin label and a death sentence.
I resumed my pace down the boardwalk. The latest in Mazawa's imposed health edicts, the Gestation Sanction was the only one that provided actual medical care for its recipients, unlike his Maturation Mandate, which prohibited everyone outside the holodomes from living past what he termed the 'Age of Viability': thirty-six for men and twenty-four for women who couldn't or wouldn't reproduce. Ages, subject to sudden and exponential decrease if the person in question suffered from birth defects, mental illness, or any conditions that required anything beyond the most basic resources for their treatment. Thanks to Mazawa, half the country had been labeled Shokohin, and the holodome leaders couldn't keep up with all those required executions. Some only pretended to follow the sanctions, while others turned to Cleansers like me to do their dirty work.
Up ahead, a high Torii in brilliant crimson signaled the end of the arboretum path. The last time I visited, a sakura grove sat beyond the Torii and in the large courtyard at its center was a shrine filled with relics. Carved from wood and sandstone centuries before New Edo Holodome existed, back when it had been called Tokyo, the comical statues of the Seven Lucky Gods offered visitors a glimpse into the city's distant past. Eager to distance myself from the gaggle of pregnant women, I hurried to the stone dogs that flanked its tall columns—
Hashira, according to my unwanted guide, who now advised that I was about to enter the Sanctuary of the Most Sublime Spirit.
Sanctuary? Though skeptical, the pink petals that coated the ground in great drifts offered some hope. As I passed beneath the Torii, equipment hummed to life, stirring the fallen blooms into a multitude of sweet-scented dervishes. Petals clung to my hair and caressed my cheeks like tiny silken hands. I opened my arms and lifted my face, allowing color and scent to envelope me. I didn't care that I'd missed the height of the cherry blossom season or even that the sanctuary's wind effect was artificial. As the deliciously cool air ruffled my robe and tickled my bare legs, the voice from above fell silent—sublimely silent—allowing a moment's respite at the center of a slowly spiraling world.
The air currents gathered force, stirring the once-languid dervishes into a miniature blizzard. Though I could hear the other women sigh and squeal in awe all around me, I couldn't see them. The storm of petals rendered them mere shadows, indistinguishable from those of the slender tree trunks and branches.
On my periphery, a shadow flew out of the storm. I turned at the very moment its insubstantial shade gave way to an incredibly substantial Saisei wannabe. Instead of absorbing the sakura experience from a demurrer stance, Noriko, whirling and waving her arms like a demented fan dancer, crashed into me. Thrown back, I desperately tried to calm the flailing girl, but my leg caught the corner of something metal. Tangled together, the two of us landed on the ground in a heap.
The wind ceased. Blossoms cascaded down with a soft sigh. Expecting Noriko's haggard companion to wrest her from my grasp, I was stunned when she bowed in deference. From my vantage point, all I could see was a column of thin blue mist. Groggy as she was, Noriko disentangled herself from me and quickly mirrored her friend's action. Hoping to see what all the fuss was about, I gathered my rumpled robe and twisted about, but all I could see was a hazy bluish curtain.
Many hands pulled at my robe, beckoning me back into the Saisei fold.
"Miss, please..."
"Come here, quickly."
"You can't stay there! It's disrespectful!"
I looked up. On the spot once reserved for Seven round-bellied gods of old Tokyo, now stood a larger-than-life-sized hologram of Doctor Mazawa. Although open-armed, beneficent as a father in its wavering light, Mazawa's stance was as stiff as his spiked hair and his thin-lipped smile never reached his eyes.
Ever the opportunist, our robotic narrator was also on hand (for the last time, I hoped): "Doctor Mazawa wishes to welcome all prospective Saisei and his esteemed guest, Cleanser Darkfell."
Ashen-faced, Noriko retreated to a safer spot, while murmurs began rippling through the crowd.
Mercenary, murderer, baby killer—nothing I hadn't heard before, though I'd never killed a baby in my life (not on purpose, anyway). I stared straight ahead, letting each slur affect me the same way as one of the holodome's sections of metallized glass would register the impact of a stray bird. I would've retained composure, too, if Noriko's skeletal horse-faced pal hadn't elbowed her way through the crowd. A spray of foul spittle accompanied her insult.
Instead of doing what I really wanted—snap the bitch's scrawny neck like a dry twig—I tilted my chin at her. "I rid our country of Kufugaki, while all you do is spread your legs! You're worse than whores, yet you dare call yourselves mothers. Mothers my ass!"
"Silence!" A contingent of uniformed guards, led by a girl who couldn't have been older than Noriko, stepped through the trees. All of them were extremely tall and sinewy with dark hair cropped in close-fitting caps. Catlike, they moved in a choreographic precision that was almost impressive as it was disturbing to behold. The girl's uniform was light grey with a black sigil on one arm, while her three male companions wore a darker unadorned version of her high-collared fatigues. All were carrying compact versions of the beam launchers that I'd seen outside.
"I'm sure we've interrupted what would have been a very spirited debate but such emotional displays are not condoned here." Hands tightening around her weapon, the girl positioned herself between me and Noriko's bone hag buddy. "If you wish to continue your journey, you will remain silent."
Silence was just fine by me. I wiped my face on my sleeve.
An engine whirred nearby, scattering petals in pale pink drifts. The female guard huffed at the sound. "All prospective Saisei, this way." She indicated a path at the edge of the rotunda with the business end of her beam launcher. The guards herded the Saisei out of the rotunda and off in the direction of the visitor lodges, leaving me alone with Mazawa's towering ghostly image.
"Cleanser Darkfell."
I recognized the man's voice immediately. He'd been my officious inquisitor in the Decon chamber. As I turned, the hologram winked out, revealing a handsome young man. Although the cut of his garb was similar to the uniforms worn by the other guards, gold and bronze threads adorned the collar of his black jacket and his rank (whatever it was), afforded much more freedom in the way of hairstyling. His, inky as crow feathers, framed his almond eyes and strong features like a perfect silken curtain.
Eye candy or not, I wasn't going to let him off so easily for his rude behavior. "Hey, Soldier Boy, are you shirking interrogation duty or did the Doctor revoke my invitation?"
"Your arrival took by everyone by surprise. You're younger than we expected," he said, approaching with a feline grace that left the fallen petals undisturbed. "Younger, and much smaller."
"Haven't you heard? Being naked on camera does that to a person."
Unaffected, he began a slow circuit around me, as if appraising a piece of equipment. Whether I met his expectations or not, I couldn't tell. The whole time, his flawless features and wide dark eyes remained inscrutable. Finally, he spoke, "During inspection, I noticed a naginata among your many weapons. Given your diminutive stature, don't you find it cumbersome in tight situations?"
"I try to avoid those as much as possible." But for you, I could make an exception.
"You seem to favor it, leaving it within reach, while sheathing your knives and pistol. Some of your equipment is also quite old. Older than you, in some cases."
I looked too young and my weapons too old: maybe Satoshi's paranoia had been justified. I began mirroring the guard's movements. The way things seemed to be heading, I needed to keep him in my sights. "What I do with my daisho is not your concern."
"I was only curious. I didn't mean to insult you." He stopped moving, then bowed. "I am Special Liaison Kei. I will escort you to Doctor Mazawa. This way, please."
He led me inside the grove, where a zephyr-chaser hovered in wait. Like so many things in New Edo, it was white, the virginal surface of its long bow broken only by a single crimson sigil. At first, I thought it was some kind of military ID, but soon balked when I spotted the kanji symbol in the center of its blood-rayed sunburst. "Saisei? You do know I'm not pregnant, right?"
For the first time since we met, Special Liaison Kei smiled. "Doctor Mazawa is quite partial to this word. Beyond its obvious reference to reproduction, it also connotes renewal and revitalization. The Doctor says that long after we are gone, his Saisei Era will be remembered as a time of sweeping transformation."
Clearly, Kei had never set foot outside the holodome or had been brainwashed (or both). I clambered over the low side of the zephyr-chaser into a small recessed seat. Though as long and wide as the one Satoshi had back home, and fitted with similar controls, New Edo's version had much flimsier lap harnesses.
"Hope you're not bothered by heights."
Before I could shake my head, the zephyr-chaser whirred to life and whisked us high above the arboretum. In the distance, I could make out the curved rooftops of the visitor lodges and the composite block complexes that housed soldiers and workers. Further behind them, rising into the artificial sunlight, the high-rises of laboratories and manufacturing centers towered over all.
The sound of the engine and the rush of wind merged into a single roar as we shot forward. I had to shout my next question, "So, what does a Special Liaison do?"
"Security, mostly," he hollered back.
"Am I a security risk?"
A cluster of laboratory complexes loomed ahead. Kei slowed the craft, then said, "These days, everyone is, and arriving with a severed head in a bag didn't help. What were you thinking?"
"He tried to ambush me on the way here," I said, adding another layer of embellishment to the original lie. "I thought I'd collect a bounty."
The craft swerved, edging its way around the side of a large grey building. Suddenly, the green glass walls of the Spire Lab appeared on my right. "Hey, maybe the scientists there could use the head for their research. The last time I visited, they were working on a cure for nokuru."
"They're not." Kei flipped a switch on the control panel. "That building was repurposed immediately after Doctor Akiro's abdication."
Assassination, you mean. "What's it used for now?"
He smiled. "I couldn't say."
We glided in silence, our course taking us to a palatial three-storied residence with red roof tiles. Gilt trim adorned the carvings about its windows and door. "Impressive," I managed to say, although the steep pitch of the rooflines and the way darkness amassed beneath them made the whole place look like a scowling face.
We landed on a patch of thick perfectly-trimmed grass in front of the house. A female guard, purse-lipped and poker stiff in a black silk uniform, waited outside.
"My colleague will show you inside. Good luck, Renata Darkfell."
The woman nodded curtly, then ushered me inside a bare room. As we moved forward, lights winked on overhead and fusuma painted with images of a snow-capped Mt. Fuji parted, revealing another bare compartment with the same dark polished floors and gilt-trimmed interior screens. The walls of another room, nearly transparent, housed enormous aquariums filled with colorful, exotic fish. Room after room appeared and disappeared in this manner. The house, which seemed to go on forever, could've held my entire clan! When I thought of our bunkers buried in the ice caves, the cold, darkness and deprivation we endured just to survive, injustice rose on a wave of anger so sudden, it made my ears ring. Why should one man have so much while others had nothing?
Another screen whisked away and I found myself standing outside yet another dimly-lit room whose dark walls made it appear even more cavernous. It contained a large round table whose surface gleamed like the pane of a black mirror. A holographic projector had been mounted in a raised circular base at its center, although I doubted it was responsible for the mechanical hum-gurgle that rose and fell at regular intervals.
"She is here, as requested, Doctor Mazawa," said my tour guide, in a tone that would have made an ice floe shiver.