Vision
"Ore no miteiru mon wa ano koro to nanimo kawacchainee"
(What I am seeing has never changed)
- Takasugi Shinsuke
Undoubtedly, aesthetics had been taken into account by the designer of this place, but the crucial thing was the visitors' comfort. The corridor was decorated in pale colours, with neutral white dominating. Light coming from the panels in the ceiling was soft and didn't hurt eyes. A music could be heard, too - gentle tunes putting the guests in a good mood. The carpet on the floor was not only an element of the décor, but it also had an important function: muffling the steps, it contributed to the general atmosphere of the building. Everything here was oriented to the customer, starting with the polite service on the ground floor and ending on rounded handles of the doors that opened easily and noiselessly. 'We await you and your matter, that is our highest priority,' such was the message coming from every detail of the furnishing and every gesture of the staff.
"Shinsuke... Are you sure of that?" Bansai asked as they were heading towards the room at the other end of the corridor.
Shinsuke cast an oblique glance at his companion and said nothing. Only Bansai could ask him such questions, never caring about the possible response; Shinsuke had long since got used to and learned to ignore that. Whatever was behind those indiscreet comments - mostly, some strange, incomprehensible and, above all, unneeded concern - didn't matter to him at all; Bansai should know it.
Again, he fixed his eyes on the corridor ahead. Of course he was sure. He never did things he wasn't sure of, and his own desires were perfectly clear to him. The times he would stick to others' ideals and yield to others' will had been long gone; he'd never benefited from doing so anyway. In present life, he would aim at what he wanted in the first place. He would reach for it irrespective of the cost, victims and presumptive limits. He didn't need anyone's permission, and when someone attempted to stop him, it was most often the last thing in that person's life.
Surely, Bansai knew that - and, even if Shinsuke wished to remind him that, there was no time, for they arrived at their destination. Without hesitation, he opened the door, and they entered. The room was bright, equipped with soft-edged furniture, and its window was covered with a matt screen that let the light inside but prevented from seeing outside. 'The director is awaiting you, sirs,' the receptionist on the ground level had said. It appeared to be so; an Amanto with an odd face - if his muzzle could be called that; Shinsuke had never ceased to feel disgusted with the space creatures, and he doubted he would ever do - rose from his chair behind the desk and quickly approached to welcome them. Someone else in his place would have undoubtedly guarded the door, but this man apparently was a pro with considerable experience of dealing with people.
"Mister Takasugi and Mister Kawakami," he said without a hint of uncertainty, even though they had never met before, and shook their hands, which was the intergalactic greeting. "I am Hobo Aeru," he introduced himself briefly, keeping the ceremony to minimum, and added, "Please, sit down," pointing at the white armchairs in the middle of the room. He spoke in a calm manner, and his voice was quite low - not so much that it couldn't be heard (although Shinsuke didn't answer for Bansai, who often displayed selective hearing) - in order to not arouse the customers. At the same time, there was some enthusiasm, some eagerness to his words, probably as elaborated and intended as everything in this building.
Shinsuke sat down, and Bansai followed. The chairs, covered in a leather of a kind or another, seemed to adjust to the weight and position of the person; of course, the customers shouldn't be spared the advanced technology here. In the meantime, the director made a discreet gesture; a maid came in the room to serve them green tea - so their background was already well-known here. 'Well, business is like a war: the more you know of a person in front of you, the better for you,' Shinsuke thought, regarding the girl with the same indifference he regarded the room itself. Aside from a few details that must have been especially stimulating for the race of the director, she was a stunning beauty - and so ideal that Shinsuke concluded right away he was dealing with an android or another artificial creation. It made sense in this place.
The director waited until the girl disappeared in the next room (giving them enough time to have a good look at her - another manoeuvre of a businessman - although he wouldn't refer to his assistant with a single word, neither now nor later), and only then he sat down. He obviously tried to share his attention equally between the two of them, at least until he ascertained which was his customer. His back was straight, his hands were clasped, and he was smiling - or that was how Shinsuke interpreted his grimace.
"Your interest is an honour," he said in that soft voice of his, shifting his gaze between Shinsuke and Bansai. "If you choose our services, we will of course make every effort to gratify your expectations. The customer satisfaction is a matter of utmost importance to us. I dare say that our facility enjoys the best reputation in this region of the galaxy and has been holding top position in consumer satisfaction rankings for several years. We offer only high-quality products and constantly raise qualifications of our personnel. We employ the best-"
Shinsuke lifted one hand to stop that litany of advertising slogans. "I'm not interested," he said coldly, although he wouldn't have come here if he hadn't known they were best indeed.
The director's expression didn't change - he was likely prepared for any possible reaction - and he was still regarding them with polite vigilance.
"I only want to know one thing," Shinsuke continued in a dispassionate voice, although he suddenly realized he wasn't all that calm. "Can you really... make anyone? "
The Amanto leaned back; something akin to pride flashed in his eyes. "Absolutely anyone, Mister Takasugi," he replied with confidence; he was now focusing entirely on him. "In our records... In our order history, there is currently three hundred seventy eight intelligent races," he enumerated smoothly, "but the list is growing very fast, and I would say our possibilities are unlimited. As I mentioned, we hire the best specialists who perfect their competences all the time and eagerly take up a new challenge. It may be indiscreet of me, but I suppose you are interested in the human race, aren't you?"
Shinsuke nodded briefly.
"We have been working with the human race for a rather short time yet very intensely, and the results are superb," the director declared. "Mister Kawakami had an opportunity to meet one of our creations, isn't that right?" he shifted his gaze to Bansai. "What do you think of her, sir?"
"Kamiguchi Kei every inch," Bansai replied reluctantly, referring to the pop singer of the galaxy. "But it's not that hard to forge her," he added with irony.
"I wish you didn't use that term," there was a request in Amanto's voice, but other than that he didn't show any discontent. "I will consider your answer a compliment." He looked at Shinsuke again. "Our creations are perfect. Some customers claim they can't tell them from the originals," he added emphatically.
Shinsuke gave him a disdainful look and sneered. He was about to say he didn't believe in fairytales nor he thought the director believed what he said himself... yet he realized that something inside him clutched at the Amanto's words and wouldn't let go. He pressed his lips tight and changed the position, trying to overcome the sudden irritation. After all, he had come here, hadn't he? He'd come here because he believed in something, even though there was a great mystification behind this belief.
"Although most of our customers wish to remain anonymous, some allow the communication for various purpose," the director went on when he hadn't received any response. "I'll be more than happy to provide you with the contact details if you wish to familiarize yourself with the impartial opinion about our work and its results."
'Impartial? I bet you pay them for saying what is the most convenient to you,' Shinsuke thought mockingly, but he said, "It won't be necessary. I think I can... ah, trust you." He suppressed a smile; the choice of words amused him. "After all, you're the best," he added with barely hidden irony.
The director either didn't notice it or decided not to; he was still giving him that polite look. "I am extremely honoured by your trust, " he responded softly. "But I can tell you have more questions. Please, ask them. I will answer every one of them as well as I can."
Questions? Yes, Shinsuke had quite a lot of them, but at the same time they filled him with a strange reluctance; he wasn't sure whether he wanted to hear the answers. Or maybe just talking about it seemed unpleasant? However, some issues needed to be addressed to, so there was no point in running away from them, especially that running wasn't his habit. Besides, he hadn't come here to play with words; he had a goal, so it was the best that he spoke directly. He squinted and asked in possibly casual way, "Can you create someone who is dead?"
For some reason, he expected a reaction, but the Amanto showed none - which also proved he'd been in this business for a longer while; it took much more to surprise him. It was Bansai who let out a snort, ever though he very rarely expressed his dissatisfaction. Like always, Shinsuke ignored him and kept staring at the director.
"As I said, we don't know the term 'limitation'," the man replied. "Then, answering your question, yes, we can. Under appropriate conditions, it poses no obstacle. Of course, the matter is more complicated... and the procedures deviate from the standard, but that is all. Even if the task becomes more difficult, it isn't impossible."
"How difficult?" Shinsuke demanded, tapping his fingers on the armrest; he stopped once he noticed that.
The Amanto shifted in his place slightly, as if preparing to a longer speech. "First, I have to tell you about the procedures in normal cases, " he began almost in an apologetic tone and, once he was given the silent consent, he set about vigorous explaining. "Normally, as you likely guessed, it is a living person in question. In ninety-eight per hundred cases the customer wishes to obtain a copy for his own. They could be the idols or completely normal people, it is of no importance to us. What matters is that that particular person is pointed at: their name or the photo, or showing them on the street... Identification method is also of no importance; we simply have to know who it is. From that point, we assume responsibility. If the customer wants a copy, which is the standard, then the keystone of our actions is, first, obtaining the genetic material and, second, observation. I am not in a position to reveal how it happens exactly, but I may assure you that the marked person, 'the original' as we call them, does not realize anything and-"
"You take the genetic material from the ignorant people?" Bansai interrupted him in a drawl. "I'd say it's a crime."
The Amanto cast a fleeting glance at him and then fixed his eyes on Shinsuke again. "As I said-"
"On top of that, you observe them? On Earth, it's called 'stalking' and is punishable," Bansai broke in again, although it seemed that, in fact, he had fun.
"Bansai, you shouldn't worry. I'm sure no-one wants your copy," Shinsuke threw with a crooked smile, never taking his eyes off the director. "Do continue, it's very interesting," he urged with such an enthusiasm he might as well comment the weather.
"Our actions are absolutely legal," the Amanto claimed, although in Shinsuke's ears it sounded as hilarious as his earlier declarations of trust. But he didn't mean to argue about the lawfulness of the business done here; they were in the same boat, and they knew it well. "The genetic material serves as a building matter, and the observation... Well, you may imagine that what the customer wants is not just an exterior but also the psyche."
Yes, Shinsuke could imagine that very well. For a moment, he felt a vague discomfort, but then he ordered himself to focus on the director's words.
"Building a body based on the genetic material is the easiest stage. It is just amplification and differentiation of the cells, forming the organs and so on," the man dismissed the matter with a wave. "The real challenge is to equip the product with a particular personality. Most often, the customer wishes the copy to be perfect; sometimes, however, there are only specific features wanted."
"You mean?" Shinsuke asked.
"Compliant and submissive," Bansai threw in before the director managed to answer. "It should have the same voice as the original and maybe even some of their talents, but no character so that it can be controlled. That is what you mean, am I right?"
The Amanto regarded Bansai in silence, and it seemed to Shinsuke that this time there was some irritation in his eyes. He thought it was funny, but he didn't come here to have fun. "Silence, Bansai," he said.
"It's a peculiar choice of words that Mister Kawakami presents, isn't it so?" the director pointed.
'Rather basic intelligence,' Shinsuke thought. He waved his hand to urge the Amanto to continue.
The man clasped his hands again, and his slightly bulging eyes focused on the potential customer. "The observation of the original," he resumed talking, "aims at collecting data on the behaviour, manners, preferences... everything that comprises the personality. It is done continuously and included all areas of life. Our standard is one year, but the customer can opt for shorter or longer time. Afterwards, all information is being consolidated and implanted into the copy, which poses the biggest challenge. Which," he emphasized, and there was a pride to his voice again, "we are able to meet."
"So, how does it differ from cloning?" Shinsuke asked with a sudden edginess.
"Our products are more than just clones," the Amanto seemed pleased to be able to answer that question. "A clone is simply a genetic copy, which doesn't guarantee its identicalness with the original. Our products are, if the customer wishes so, the real... perfect copies of the original as an individual, as the whole, exactly through the character traits we strive to faithfully recreate."
Shinsuke frowned. All that scientific talk bored him. First, he didn't understand everything and didn't want to admit that; second... He remembered there was more important matter to discuss. "You speak about that genetic material all the time," he said impatiently. "My question was, however, different..."
"Of course," the director smoothly took his words. "You wanted to know how we act when the original is... ah, when there is no possibility to observe them," he noted, apparently trying to be delicate.
"I say right away that I have no way to provide the genetic material," Shinsuke warned, wanting to get this matter over with.
He shivered, and his heart beat faster. For a second, he felt suffocated despite sitting in the adequately conditioned room... No matter how many years had passed, he still couldn't think about it calmly. His body had been buried in a mass grave, along with other convicts... The severed head... they had buried it by themselves, in secret, but he had blotted out from his memory the location. They... must have known it, must have still remembered, but... He couldn't imagine himself asking them about it. And even if he could, there was no way he could bring that head to light. No. It had to stay there. He overcame another shiver.
"Mister Takasugi...?"
He focused his eyes on the Amanto, who was staring at him with a polite surprise, and forced himself to resume the conversation. But his voice wasn't all that calm as he wished it to be. "I can't..." he said quietly, with hesitation. "I can't provide the genetic material..." he repeated with some helplessness and heard that Bansai moved restlessly in his seat.
"But it is not required, not at all," the director rushed to respond. "Do not worry," he assured him, apparently taking his... distraction for anxiety that the task was unrealisable.
That sobered him. He clenched his fists and teeth and fixed his eyes on the Amanto. He wouldn't have that disgusting creature patronise him. "Then, how would it be?" he asked shortly, his voice cold. "You've mentioned something about appropriate conditions," he remembered. Focusing on the concretes restored his normal composure. He unwounded his fingers on the armrest.
The Amanto nodded. "Something that belonged to that person is enough. An item, anything...?" he suggested.
"I don't have anything like that," Shinsuke replied dryly. 'I don't need,' he thought, refraining from curling his fists again. "That was the condition?" he asked with a sneer. If so, he had nothing to do here.
The Amanto, however, didn't seem disappointed with his answer; it could be that he had expected it. "The basic condition is that you had direct contact with that person," he said in a serious manner.
"Well, that's not a problem," Shinsuke replied. 'I had contact for most of my life... No, that very contact determined my life'. He didn't want to admit he felt relieved.
The director gave another nod, this time an approving one. "What I am going to tell you now may seem a quackery to you, but I assure you, sir, we still deal with pure science," the director said smoothly, and he was wearing that nasty, smug expression again. "Have you ever heard about sensopsychic memory?"
"No."
"In short," the Amanto appeared more than pleased to display his knowledge, "it's the ability of the body to record the information on things - events, people, places - one has come in contact with. Of course, such information is registered primarily in the brain, but the scientists have discovered that literally every part of the body is able to collect the sensations. So far, the mechanism remains unknown, yet the experiments have proved that the accordance of stored information with the corresponding fact was nearly one hundred percent. The greatest amount of information gathers in the regions that had the closest contact with the object. For example, if there was a physical contact, we can obtain the most relevant information from the hand. And I speak not only of simple sensations; the experiments have showed that, by the analysis of skin cells, we are able to acquire the complex picture of the person. It is as if the cells were impressed with what is called 'a soul' on some planets. It is quite intriguing, don't you think?" he said with a grimace of smile. "As if the whole person with their personality could be compacted into some... psychophysical mist and crammed into someone else's cells. Perhaps believing this requires a philosophical approach, but it's not my task; my task is to find solutions," he added with emphasis.
Shinsuke started to tap his fingers on the armrest again. "And?"
"Personally, I find this method much more convenient," the Amanto went on. "Isolating the information from one particular part of the body is much easier than scanning the brain to find it. Of course, when there is no other option, we resort to that procedure; then, however, the customer has to prepare for a long process... substantially longer than creating the copy itself, which is standard three years or more."
"So, if I'm correct, you want your client to cut off his hand or any other part of his body, so that you can grow a person from a soul coded in him?" Shinsuke asked, wondering whether only to him it sounded absurd.
The director waved his hand. "But no, we don't need a hand, not even a single finger," he corrected. "Still, except for that, you have understood the idea flawlessly," he interjected a flattery that didn't impress Shinsuke at all. "No, I am talking about an analysis conducted in our laboratory aimed at-"
"Extracting aforementioned psychophysical mist?" Shinsuke guessed.
"You are amused, aren't you? Why, I'm not amazed," the director didn't seem offended. "Still, you come here as a customer with well defined demands, and it is my task to provide you with answers whether those demands can be meet. I said earlier, and I don't go back on my words: they can. And they will if you wish."
Shinsuke regarded him in silence. He had no reason to doubt that the Amanto really believed in his capability, but for him all that sounded a sheer fantasy that no-one sane would accept. So, examining his skin they could isolate... and then culture... that man? From the memory of him? From the memory that wasn't even registered in his brain but in his body? In his skin? Stored in his cells as... a psychophysical mist? What an absurd... He felt like getting up and leaving. And before that running his blade through that Amanto's throat, so that he would never talk such rubbish again.
Yet, he was still sitting here and looking at the director with his brows knitted and his heart racing. He had come here. He had his goal. He'd told himself he would sacrifice anything to reach it. He had to remain sober and calmly analyse the situation, not basing on his emotions. He focused and tried to examine the matter from the outside. Why would the Amanto lie to him? He couldn't gain anything, yet he could lose everything, including his own life. He was a boss of too well prospering business to risk it for... Yeah, what exactly? Surely not money he might collected from any other customer. Also, it was unlikely that he'd be interested in winning the favour of the Kiheitai's leader or in establishing cooperation with the organisation itself; the Kiheitai, even if its name might evoke some emotions in Edo, meant nothing in the universe. No, that man had no motive to feed him with idle stories.
"I can tell you are still very dubious about that," the director spoke as if he could read his mind, damn him. "I didn't say the most important thing while I should have started with it. Those are single cases, but our facility does have an experience with that method, and it proved successful. If it weren't for commercial confidentiality, I would gladly show you the protocols. Without the genetic material, merely using the information coded in the skin, we were able to create the perfect copies of the original person. The customers were greatly satisfied."
Shinsuke clenched his fingers and then relaxed them again. Bansai had been quiet for a longer while as if he'd decided to leave the decision to him. Well, not that there was any other option.
"Of course, you may think about it as much as you want," the director assured him. "We never advice haste nor urge to anything, even though we know that no-one else will guarantee such a quality we do. But forgive me that I remind you that the process spans many years."
'I waited for ten years, so there's really no difference,' Shinsuke felt like retorting, but he didn't intend to be so honest with that man. Besides, he realized he didn't want to wait longer. Although he seemed perfectly calm on the outside and he knew he would remain such, a sudden feeling of heat surged him, and he felt dizzy. He ceased seeing the Amanto and the whole room; he even couldn't feel Bansai's presence any more, and instead he was drown into his own emotions. Something moved inside him and could no longer be stopped... The feeling he allowed himself only now - or realized it, for he'd thought he'd once lost it for good.
Hope.
Hope that his plans could really succeed. That his desires could be satisfied. That what he screamed to for so many years, tormented by nightmares and emptiness of his despair, might be fulfilled after all.
That he would be able to meet Yoshida Shōyō again - the man who had been his life and who had died long ago, though it seemed only yesterday.
That he would be able to see his smile, hear his voice... smell the scent of his hair and touch him, which he'd never done... experience him in all possible ways.
That he would have him - for ever, for his own, only to himself. And never, ever, let him go away.
He knew it would be only a copy, he realized it... yet... it seemed to him it wasn't of such importance. That, if what the Amanto had said was true, he might be able to forget it. Besides, Shōyō-sensei had been living in his heart, in his mind, in his cells... He'd always been there, never really gone - even if the wound inflicted by his death had never healed... He'd always been in front of his eyes, next to him, almost palpable. Therefore, if he were to appear in the universe again, if the Amanto would be able to extract him from no other than Takasugi Shinsuke... it would be really him - the most real, for his perfect image Shinsuke had always kept inside. He didn't imagine anyone else could create a better picture of a man who meant more than life for him.
He shouldn't be so uncritical; he should be sceptical, distrustful, guarded until the very end, so that he wouldn't be disillusioned and feel that pain of loss again - he'd believed he no longer could feel anything, but now he realized that not everything had died in him that day, many years ago - yet it was too late. He gave in to the overwhelming hope that broke any dam of caution - basing on a single promise that had yet to be made. His heart was still beating, and the years of pain, unfulfilled longing and chasing what had been eternally out of his reach, only intensified the feeling dwelling inside him as long as he could remember; feeling that had started when he looked into his teacher's bright eyes, and hadn't died after the light had disappeared from them.
Even if he had no chances, he hadn't stopped seeking him. Even if he were to be called a lunatic, he hadn't stopped looking out for him. Even if he had to destroy every single planet that didn't provide him with the answer, he intended to travel the whole universe - there was no other way - and it was here that he'd been given hope to finally find him. He clutched at straws; he had nothing to lose, but he could gain so much more. He would sacrifice everything for being able to look in Sensei's eyes again and see his smile; he felt pain in his chest upon a simple memory of it. He would really give anything. He was sick of that suffering, that loneliness and that degrading feeling that he'd been done the greatest wrong to. 'A samurai should endure adversities with honour,' he remembered what bushidō said... But he'd never really believed in that wisdom and never grasped its depths. He wouldn't attend the lessons for learning, only for Yoshida Shōyō, who was greater than bushidō, honour and the country itself. If he had a chance to meet him again... he was ready to pay any, every, price.
He overcame a shiver and looked at the Amanto, recollecting his earlier words. "My skin won't be of any use to you," he said in a cold voice, showing no emotions. "He... That man never touched us... never touched me, so examining it is futile. And if screening the brain takes ages, I have a better idea," he announced. "You may have this," he pointed a thumb at his lef eye.
"Hey, Shinsuke..." Bansai objected, but Shinsuke silenced him with a gesture.
"I observed him... I kept looking at him for years... I didn't take my eyes off him for a single moment. His image... If it's recorded somewhere, it has to be here. If one physical contact leaves an impression that you can successfully use, then many years of observation should give much better effect. The best possible, right? You may have this," he repeated.
The Amanto seemed shocked, although he tried to quickly regain his cool. "An eye... We haven't yet... But..." he spluttered; gathering the thought was quite hard for him. "I'm sure we can do it. Yes, I am sure of that. I'll convene a conference," he decided. "We will give you an answer in five days... But it will be affirmative for sure," he added quickly.
Shinsuke nodded. He felt relieved - and excited from anticipation, a feeling he'd long since forgotten.
"Now, I'm going to tell you about the time frames and the costs," the director said; obviously, he tried get his self-control back by relying on the routine.
Shinsuke, however, lifted his hand to interrupt him. "First, I'd like to see your laboratory," he demanded. "If I like what I see, you may be certain of our cooperation," he added for appearances. In fact, he didn't feel like listening to the Amanto any longer, and besides... He really felt the urge to see the place where his dream could be fulfilled. He was able to believe it already, he was convinced, he could feel it under his skin - that he was close, that he could touch... He overcame another shiver.
"But of course," the director nodded eagerly and rose. "We've been prepared for that. Wait a moment, please," he added in a grovelling voice, then approached his desk to give instructions; his earlier hesitation was gone, and now he almost appeared to float in the air, lifted by the prospect of forthcoming money.
Well, both of them would benefit, Shinsuke thought, although the man's material gain seemed just ludicrous and even revolting when compared to his reward. The tremble inside him increased, he would soon vibrate all over...
"Shinsuke..." Bansai's low voice, normally cool yet strangely agitated now, broke into his thought that was swirling in dazzling circles. "You realize it will be nothing but a vision...? Your vision, your memory, a dream, an illusion that-"
"Bansai, I don't want to hear another word," Shinsuke interrupted him. "If you ever mentioned it, I'll cut you," he threw and smiled at his subordinate. "Our plans haven't changed, and it is what you should take care of. Remember? We're going to destroy everything."
For a while, Bansai was giving him a blank look, then he rose and turned away. Still, whatever he thought was all the same to Shinsuke. Forgetting his companion and the whole universe, he sank deeper in the armchair and the familiar idea... to suddenly realize that its goal made sense now.
To destroy until nothing remains... only the ideal world where he will be finally able to live - where the two of them will be able to live together. The world where no-one will ever threat him, accuse him, or kill him. No-one will ever kill Yoshida Shōyō again.
He could wait as long as it took - and no more than that. He pressed one hand to his left eye, where the realization of his desire was. He couldn't stop smiling.
'Wait for me, Sensei.'
Even if it would be nothing but his vision, he couldn't imagine anything better.