Chapter 1
Rockman stared absently across the near lifeless net, surprised at the lack of activity. His internal clock pegged the hour as 2:25AM, and all across Internet City the most motion he could see was the silent goings-on of the local security patrol, consisting of two unremarkable navis, strolling lazily through the unoccupied merchant quarter. This would make it the fifth night that Rockman had found himself possessed with a mysterious restlessness that had driven him from Netto's PET and into the net unsupported; sometimes there was other activity, and he would go to the nearest Net Café and chat with other navis, some of whom shared his unexplainable unease. Mostly though, the world was asleep in preparation for the coming day, and come school the following morning it would be him that slept through Ms. Mari's class.
"Excuse me, are you . . . Rockman?"
Startled, the blue navi whirled, eyes fixing on an unknown navi, his body mostly concealed by the shadows, "I am, and who are you?"
"I have been chasing stories about you for some time now." The navi brought his hands up in a supplicated gesture, "I mean no harm, and am ill equipped to fight someone of your skill."
The blue navi eyed the navis hands, a pair of three-pronged manipulators not unlike the mechanical grabber of a carnival crane machine, with questionable interest. "If you really mean no ill, then why do you hide in the shadows?"
"If you would wish it, I will reveal myself." The navi walked out of the shadow, and the breath froze in Rockman's throat; the navi's body was red and smooth, bereft of any feature. His humanoid head bore no eyes, nose, or mouth; his chest bore a featureless crest, each arm terminating in a crude appendage that granted him only the most minimal of function. The being before him seemed incomplete, and the alien entity sent a shiver of disgust through him. The red navi seemed to sense Rockman's reaction, as he bowed his head slightly, "I am aware that my appearance is . . . reviling." He slipped back into the shadows, and Rockman cursed himself inwardly, realizing that he had reflexively formed his right hand into the buster.
"No, please, I'm very sorry for my rudeness," Rockman bowed apologetically, "I am tired, and denying myself downtime creates conflicts in my personality matrix." The blue navi mustered an awkward smile and gestured toward the edge beside him, "Please come, sit, you've traveled a long way to find me and I could use the company."
The red navi hesitated for a few seconds before slowly reentering the light, gliding more than walking to Rockman's side. "You need not make excuses to hide your feelings, the response is fairly universal. I embody a terrible reminder of any navi's mortality, and the response elicited is much like presenting any human with a corpse. I have come to expect to be abhorrently viewed, considered disgusting, and I can appreciate honesty more than I can pretty, empty words."
Rockman nodded, "I respect that, I merely do not wish to judge you by your appearance, as that is unfair. Just because you are not visually appealing, does not mean you are ugly inside."
The navi turned as if to stare at him, and slowly the blue navi got the impression that his company was smiling, "Thank you, that's the nicest thing anyone has said to me."
Rockman smiled back, "So, why have you come to find me, mister . . .? I'm sorry," he laughed, "I haven't asked your name yet."
The red navi shook his head, "I haven't gotten one, my creator has yet to name me."
"That's terrible, how anyone could neglect their navi in such a fashion is reprehensible." He fell silent for a few minutes, eyes full of pity, "Is that why . . . "
"Why I look this way? Yes," the navi stared across the void at Internet City, or Rockman thought he did, as the red navi had no eyes to display his actual orientation. "But please, do not judge harshly of my maker, as he has done so much for me and deserves no ill will. I cannot recall much of my history, but my creator tells me I was once a weapon program, the activation core in a bomb used to demolish a government facility. In my past life, apparently, I killed many men and women, children too." A change came over the red navi, and as program errors skittered across its featureless face the blue navi could see, for a second, the faint outline of eyes. He realized the navi was trying to cry, but did not have the capacity for eyes or tears. "The first memory I can recall is the screams, the sound of suffering as a fifteen story building came down around me. Next, I remember being salvaged by a military investigations office, and I remember being torn apart by code stripping software as they examined me for any sign of my maker. The pain was . . . one of two things I will remember until I cease to function."
Rockman opened his mouth to speak, but could find no words that didn't seem trite or pathetic in contrast to the navi's aching heart. As with the soul unisons he shared with his friends, Rockman could hear the essence of this navi calling to him, and his own soul reached out. He laid a hand on the red navi's shoulder, and his compatriot seemed to garner strength from it, for as he continued his voice managed not to crack. "After they were done, I was all but destroyed, reduced to a few strings of code that some errant viruses had begun to consume, when I heard a voice . . . "
ACCESSING 6-16-20XX DATA RECORD
RECORD DAMAGED
SALVAGING FRAGMENT
PARTITION STABILIZED
ACCESSING . . .
"Father," the boy squinted at the display monitor, "look at this code sequence, there's a badly fragmented navi in the detonator."
"Hmm . . . ah, I see it." A man in an expensive suit leaned over the boy, the scent of his cologne wrapping him in a comfortable mantle, "Must have been part of the detonation sequence. It's a miracle it survived that far, though it looks like the DataSkim software has all but deleted him."
The boy looked at the splintered program for a long time. "Dad, remember how you promised you would get me a navi this week?"
"Of course I do, we'll go pick one out for you as soon as we're done here."
"I want that one."
The man stopped, confused, "What one?"
"The detonator navi," the boy tapped the monitor, "I want him."
"What? Why?"
"I feel sorry for him; he was created to operate a life taking device, and thrown away by his designer, only to be shredded and tortured by us, and now left to die. No one ever asked him what he wanted; he wasn't given the choice most navis get."
"He's in bad shape, kiddo," the man laid a hand on his son's shoulder, "You'd be looking at a complete rebuild, not to mention needing to splice program components from numerous other systems just to bring him up to standard operation, and don't get me started on what you'd have to do to make him net battle capable. By the end, there'd be more modification or splice software present than there would be of his core program."
The boy wrapped his hand on the metal exam table, the contact of his cybernetic appendage ringing shrilly in the quiet lab, "Are you saying that you think that it isn't worth saving someone when you'd have to replace most of what they started as, with foreign materials?"
Looking down at his son, knowing as well as the boy did about the miles of interlaced optic circuitry and integrated titanium plating that composed 83% of the boy's body, "Of course not; when you care about something, you should do whatever it takes to make it shine." He turned toward one of the lab technicians, "Hey Sam, what do you say you turn the detonator data over to me, and we'll call the software bill even."
The scientist stopped, slowly turning to face the man that addressed him, features turned up in a confused scowl. "I'm sorry, Mr. Brandt, did you just say that you would consider trading us the CORCKY program for the detonator coding?"
"You're just going to throw it away, aren't you?"
"Well, yes, but that's fifty million zenny in software!"
"You don't have kids Sam; one day, when you and Sharoll have one of your own, you'll understand how important it is to make them smile."
"A smile is all well and good, but fifty million zenny is enough to secure the comfortable living of a hundred children, so you'll pardon me if I expect them to think more realistically."
"To each his own." The man gestured toward the bomb fragments, "Go ahead and download him, Benny, we're already late for your doctor's appointment."
Thanks dad," Ben smiled and plugged his Personal Terminal into the SourceGen salvage computer, "Welcome home, little program, your life begins today."
DATA PARTITION CORRUPTED . . .
ENDING SEQUENCE . . .
Rockman nodded quietly, "You are fortunate to have such an operator, he sounds like he cares for you very much."
The navi nodded, "I love him. He took me dying, and has invested so much of his dwindling time into my resurrection. The cybernetics his father installed in him have prolonged his life, but the strain is terrible on his body, and he hasn't long to live. That is why I'm unfinished; he's been slipping in and out of consciousness for the past week, and hasn't been able to do anything for more than an hour each time. He devotes all the time he is awake to working on me, but it seems wrong to let him spend what precious time he has left, fixing a broken old navi."
"He loves you, just like you love him; like a brother." Rockman fell silent, and neither spoke for a long time until the red navi faced him.
"Like you and your operator."
Rockman went cold. "How do you know about Netto?"
"My operator's father was Joshua Bradt, owner of Equinox Industries, the largest software designer in Ameroupe, and a key partner in Yuuichiro Hikari's PET program. At least, until he boarded the same plane as Arashi Kazefuki."
Rockman nodded solemnly, "Then he was present after Gospel declared Arashi's failure inexcusable . . ."
". . . and his suitcase exploded, causing the 787 to plummet into the sea, killing everyone aboard." The red navi nodded in agreement, "My operator has since assumed the responsibilities as company head, much to the dismay of the shareholders. During one of his visits to SciLabs I was uploaded into the mainframe for a program patch and bug screen, and I had an interesting conversation with a Mr. Prog who was all too eager to tell an American tourist about his role in the preservation of Doctor Hikari's dying son."
"Sometimes those Mr. Progs have no ability to realize what should and should not be shared," Rockman sighed in irradiation. "I'm sure that dad would be pretty angry if he knew about the EXTMEM program's existence becoming public knowledge."
"Trust me, I won't go around sharing the information, I know a lot about secrets." The navis shared a laugh, and then fell into companionable silence, staring across at the vastness of cyberspace.
-P-R-O-G-R-A-M---E-X-E-C-U-T-E-
"Dante Menjari, known throughout the cyberworld as The Bloody Incubus, you have been charged with the heinous crime of murder against 35 private citizens, 15 net saviors and their navis, and various acts of cyber terrorism across Ameroupe, Sharo, and Electopia. You have been judged guilty by a jury of your peers, and your judgment and punishment have been set to be carried out. Do you acknowledge your awareness of these crimes, your role in each atrocity, and the corresponding role you had to play in each act?"
The green haired man chuckled darkly, flexing against the leather straps that bound him in place. "Do I acknowledge that I enjoyed killing those stupid net saviors? Yes, particularly the time I spent with that sweet little thing in Sharo. I especially like the part where she walked to her net savior boyfriend's house, with that bomb in her-"
Dante grunted as one of the guards smashed him in the mouth with the butt of his stun pistol, deriving some degree of pleasure from the shrill crack as several of the murderer's teeth shattered upon impact. The judge rapped his gavel on the makeshift podium, "Bailiff, remove that guard!" Two armed officers placed a hand on the attacker's shoulder, and led him out without a struggle. Nobody present could blame the guard for his outburst, not even Dante himself, who giggled and spat teeth to his side.
"Gem of an officer; got a good swing on him."
The judge rapped his gavel again, "I've had enough of your shenanigans, you deluded psychopath! You have committed terrible acts against humanity, and it is not possible for someone to live long enough to validate a life imprisonment for such actions, particularly when the criminal is so mentally imbalanced he cannot understand the wrongness of his crimes."
The accusation stole the grin from Dante's bloody mouth, and he fixed the judge with a scowl so cruel that members of the jury behind him shivered. "Are you saying that I'm ill? That I'm some gibbering retard?" He roared at the judge, spattering bloody spittle on his white prison uniform, "You think that some whimpering idiot could have masterminded the exorcisms I performed?"
"Clearly, Mr. Menjari, as any healthy-minded individual would be incapable of the things you have done with your life."
Dante's eyes glittered with a fierce rage, but his broken mouth curled into a horrific smile, "I guess I'll have to prove you wrong, old man." He shifted his face so that he affixed the jury of 33 citizens with his haunting purple eyes, "Bear witness to my proclamation; heed my words as if your lives depend upon it, for they do. I will arise from this meaningless execution, like an angel of death, to herald the end of your civilization."
The judge raised his voice over the deadly calm words the killer uttered, hoping to overwhelm the killer's monstrous oration. "Dante Menjari, the death penalty has not been in existence for over 50 years, ever since the world government decreed that the act of taking another's life was not admissible under any circumstances."
"To prove to you . . . unworthy creatures, that my work is the will of no less than the immortal God, himself." Dante continued, pressing against the leather straps with strength born of lunacy.
" . . . But it has been decided that, for someone of so many atrocities, the only way to truly ensure the safety of good people, is to revoke the gift of life you have so readily shunned."
Dante's voice rose in volume, "I will walk amidst the masses, and turn my so-called peers to the righteous path I walk, and we will show mankind the folly of those who have taken technology into their soul."
The judge raised his own voice to a shout. "So it is the decision of this court that, with the permission of the world government, you will be executed before this jury of your peers, by electrocution. Do you have any last words?"
Dante fixed his eyes on the judge, "Repent, for you will be the first to die, Judge Reinhold DeMarquis."
Although the sound of his name on the murderer's lips sent cold waves down his spine, the judge forced his mouth into a grim line. "Do it."
One of the jurors pulled a lever, and the room's lights shuddered as a hundred thousand volts of electricity sent violent tremors through the convicted killer's body. He bulged against the straps, bloody foam bubbling up from his lips as he screamed wordlessly. He flexed and thrashed, his eyes rolling back in his head, electricity arcing between the rows of his teeth as he thrashed about in the metal chair, slamming his head into the back bar again and again, long past sensing the damage done as his skull shattered, driving fragments of bone into his brain. The electrocution lasted thirty seconds, after which a wrinkled old man cautiously walked up to the smoking murderer, tentatively placing a stethoscope to his chest.
"…no pulse, no respiratory activity, call time of death at 3:37AM." The doctor stepped back, and two guards walked forward to collect the corpse. Unbeknownst to all, a small electronic device was reading Dante's vital signs as well, and at approximately ninety seconds after all activity ceased, it began to emit a signal.
A juror's net phone began to ring, and when he reluctantly answered it we was greeted with a string of malicious laughter. Then the phone next to him began to ring, and the one adjacent to her, until every net phone in the room was ringing and spewing forth maniacal laughter; Dante Menjari's maniacal laughter. Some of the juror's repeatedly pressed the call end buttons on their PETs, but to no avail. Other's extracted the batteries, ignoring the indignant cries of their respective navis as the devices went dead.
At two-hundred seconds the laughter ceased abruptly, replaced by a few seconds of eerie calm, before the explosives secreted away in Dante's body detonated. With a blinding flash and a bone-jarring 'boom' the killer's corpse was evaporated; the ring of flame rippled outward, slamming the unfortunate doctor and guardsmen in the chamber against the walls with enough force to liquefy their bodies. The shockwave sent vicious furrows through the Plexiglas window that shielded the judge and jurors from the execution room; although the barrier protected them from the deadly explosion, the gelatinous remains of the good doctor and his armed entourage managed to slowly trickle in through the cracks.
-P-R-O-G-R-A-M---E-X-E-C-U-T-E-
Rockman and the featureless navi broke off their conversation as the net seemed to flicker around them, watching curiously as a burst of alien code streaked pass them, filtering out across the web. "Huh," Rockman said as he scratched his head, "I wonder what that was all about."
"They executed Dante Menjari tonight."
"The net slayer who logged in all those murders and deletions?" Rockman made a face, "I don't know what disgusts me more; that he committed so many atrocities without remorse, or that all the government could think to do with him was end his life. Barbaric."
"Death is a part of life, as inevitable as day into night. I am not one to say whether or not the action was right or wrong, but everyone's free opinion is welcome."
The blue navi yawned and stretched, "I hate to call it a night, my friend, but I have to make sure my operator wakes up in time for school."
The red navi nodded, "Indeed; I myself have to ensure that mine prepares for his busy day tomorrow." The red navi walked over and hugged Rockman, "Thank you for talking to me tonight; it gave me the chance to think about some things."
Rockman stiffened slightly, and then returned the hug happily. Robbed of physical contact for most of his life, only a cautious few had ever hugged him; and now this stranger that he barely knew, so eager was he to express himself. Rockman envied the freedom that his new friend possessed at times. "We need to name you something," he said as they separated, "I can't go on calling you boushi-sama."
"Boushi?" The red navi cocked his head, "What is the word 'boushi'? I'm still learning Japanese."
"It means 'unnamed,' as in I can't go on calling you mister no name."
"I like it."
"But it's no different than what you are now!
The red navi shrugged, and Rockman got the distinct impression that his friend was smiling, "It is a name of sorts, and my friend gave it to me, so it is special."
Seeing he would not be swayed, the blue navi acquiesced, "As you wish." The pair smiled at each other, "Goodnight . . . Boushi." He could not suppress a silly smile.
"Goodnight, Saito."