Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? Part Two

Many wondered if contractors could dream. It would be a strange thing to be so cut off, but there again perhaps it had to do with the absence of emotion, like dolls. Without dreams, both could sit apart from the world, from the rest of the human race, and perform their function. Nothing more complicated than that.

There were even some who wished it were true.

But in their exile, the rumours changed. The stories that had once made sense took on nightmare quality, banishing them from the streets: whispers, in dark places, of torture and violence. Not rational acts, but full of terror and rage, beyond even reason's grasp.


He was falling again. A storm of burning nails reaved his chest…

Eyes followed the girl with the black hair, bent double beneath her companion whose blood spotted the floor. He was still conscious, but his face was grey, his eyes shut.

What did it matter if he let go now? His ears throbbed as if he was under water…

The girl stopped over the rough pile of blankets in the corner and dropped her passenger. The impact seemed to jolt him, and he moaned involuntarily, the dark stain that had started at his collar bone spreading a little more towards his abdomen. Without bothering for decency, she tore open the black coat and the shirt beneath, reaching for one of the knives to cut the soaked bandages. Even with the gushing blood, they stuck with a congealed, greenish mass that forced her to tear them away from the skin.

His whole body spasmed. Sweat trickled through the black tangle of hair. His blood was on fire as it flowed freely from the claw marks tracking over his rib cage.

Free-fall, toward a black ocean that rose to greet him…


White sunshine. It flowed like water.

Sand trickled through his fingers as he explored what it was he was lying on. Waves of the sea crashed gently somewhere behind him. The intrinsic warmth was tempered by a cold wind, rushing down from the fjords in the north. It carried a scent: of salt, and ice, and the sheer rock of home. He lay back, eyes closed, and let the world flow over him. The pain had gone, and everything else…

Laughter. High and strong like the first wing strokes of a new bird.

It was hard to move; to turn his head, just a little. But the sound drew him with an invisible cord – it came from children playing delightedly at the edge of the surf. From a little girl, stood apart from the others in her best, blue dress, white hair caught free in the wind. She smiled openly at her world, her home. She reached down to capture the sparkles gliding beneath the surface, the water swirling about her feet.

"Yin…" Hei breathed softly. Her white skin caught the light like something from an ancient story.

"Kirsi."

He couldn't remember getting to his feet. Light shone into his eyes, but he hesitated to turn, afraid of what he might see. She was watching the child, and shook her head.

"Kirsi."

"Yin!"

He stumbled forward, catching on the waves. She turned, tears falling, a question shining in the violet eyes.

"Hei?"

Forging relentlessly on, he didn't stop until he stood before the visage of Yin, clad in white silk that mirrored the falling light.

"Don't leave me alone!" The words tumbled from him like an old song, playing over and over.

"I can only cause you pain."

And she was already tearing away from him, fading with the sun and the sky. Desperately he lunged forward, salt water flooding his mouth as he fell, choking, beneath the surface. Lights swirled as he tried to turn, drowning in a thick, endless darkness. Ahead, she was a star his arms reached to encircle, but only empty air.

Pain arced through his heart until he couldn't bear it. He closed his eyes, shutting out the circling lights, and willed with all his life to bring her back. An orange star, far away, watched as light grew about his centre. It didn't understand. What power was this? One light in a sea of stars, yet it burned like it had in the gate…

It pulled, not to them, but to her.

He felt her pain to his own.

"Yin…"


"Hei!"

The night-eyes snapped open. Blue light filled the hall with the first traces of dawn.

"How long did I sleep?"

"The night." A black cat jumped to sit next to his head. "You screamed right through it, though. Scared the shit out of most of these guys."

Absently, he raised a hand to stroke the new-comer. Mao dropped his head so Hei could scratch him behind the ears.

"You ran a fever. Accelerated blood poisoning, but the wounds weren't deep. Mao found penicillin." Primrose came into view on his right, black hair falling to her waist, blood splattered over her navy dress. "I gave you a memory to cushion the pain."

Now he sat up.

"You can manipulate memories?"

"Consciousness. And more than that, but I told you the truth when I said I was no contractor." She sighed heavily as if something hurt. "It's more complicated than that."

"Ah, is that how you to keep everyone so calm?" Mao chuckled. Primrose gave him a look that shut him up in an instant.

"Who are you?" The question Misaki plagued her with.

"You don't need to know." She replied brusquely.

A hand moved like a snake and caught her wrist in a vice. Ignoring the stab through the bandages, Hei pulled her down to face him, eyes a storm.

"You know where she is."

The grip tightened. But the green eyes never wavered as they met his night-blue ones, expression harder than hoar frost in the arctic. Without blinking, she pulled her arm slowly away until the holes in his chest muscle forced him to let go. It took longer than she would have thought, though, and she stood staring down.

"If there is anything you must know, then understand this. I will never let her come to harm, lest to end her suffering. But if you want to see her, whole and alive, you're going to have to trust me. For the time being, at least." She crouched low, until their eyes were level. "I have not lied to you, nor do I intend to. So believe me when I say you are better for not knowing me. And that I will help you."

"Where is she?"

"Safe. Asleep, though I know better."

"What do you mean?"

"I felt it when I saw her: the battle raging inside. But I need to speak to Hiroshi before I can figure out why – he knows something, some secret Madam Orielle kept from everyone." Anger seemed to flash across her face. "Once I know it, I can figure a way to bring Yin into possessing back her own body."

Hei nodded slowly.

"Where is Hiroshi now?"

"I tracked him as far as the CIA checkpoint then lost him in that part of the city."

"I'll hunt him down."

Primrose looked him over, one eyebrow raised.

"You're in no condition to hunt. No, I'll find him. Mao?" The cat bobbed his head and slinked off. "You need to rest."

All Hei wanted was the opposite, but knew if he didn't obey soon, his body would.

"I'll find him." She said quietly. Hei nodded again, struggling to stay awake.

"What happened to Kirihara?" He asked faintly.

"I took her home."


A bell sounded. It thumped through Misaki's skull.

"What the hell?" She rolled over for the alarm, jamming the button. A voice in her aching head echoed "You have concussion, but no permanent injuries. I recommend aspirin." Agroan percolated through the sheets as she lurched out of bed. She needed a holiday, she decided, somewhere with beaches.

Something tinkled in her coat pocket and she suddenly realised she was still fully dressed, and covered in mud. Cursing, she reached into her coat and touched the charm.


It was strange to sit in her office – an office that looked exactly as it had yesterday: the scattered paperwork, the coffee stains – yet to know something had changed. The light was different, like a cloud that had been building for months had suddenly broken. Her head hurt and the marks on her arms wept a foul green pus, but ironically her thoughts were clear as if she had woken from a long sleep.

He was alive.

She hadn't known until that moment how much she doubted her own conviction, yet there it was, irrefutably. The more confusing was why it mattered, considering the last time she came face to face with the Black Reaper, yet in her heart strummed a chord she had forgotten was there. And then there was Primrose – the double faced, lying, stalking vixen that had, for all Misaki's suspicion, saved her life and brought her back. Why? If Primrose was the spy Misaki envisioned, why was her life so important to preserve?

At the very least she owed Primrose a debt, though there had been nothing when she came in; no sign to acknowledge what she'd done, the shadows beneath her eyes artfully painted over. They exchanged pleasantries, trivialities, and she handed Misaki a file. Apparently after word of the attack came back, Section Three had gone to some lengths to find out about the man supposed to sell her the information. The file was of a bespectacled man in his late forties: ex-PANDORA, once a part of project 'Minerva', but current activities unknown.

"What was the project?"

"We're not sure – all the files were sealed shortly before the CIA took control of the base. But, I suppose what information he's selling has something to do with it." Primrose looked anxious. "Morita's being awfully tight-lipped, though. I think he's concerned the Americans might pick him up first, or someone else, only he's given orders that he be taken down before that happens."

"We're to kill him?" Misaki whispered.

"Only if you can't bring him in first!" Primrose smiled happily. "I mean, the message was for us so he's probably waiting to contact us again."

"Probably." Misaki stared absently at the cold coffee. "Do you know why it's so important?"

Primrose seemed to sink. The eyes were like a forest pond, but in them were fathomless depths Misaki couldn't pretend to understand. The guard was ever there, but she knew they were more relaxed than else they would have been. Delicate fingers clasped her forehead, then she straightened as if she had come to a decision.

"Miss Kirihara?" She began sweetly. Misaki frowned.

"Call me Misaki. And don't pretend like you're this innocent little girl with me."

Eyebrows shot up, but there was no comment.

"I need a favour."

"We both know I owe you one."

"Well," She leaned back and appeared to consider something. "If you can convince Morita you already know where he'll be – that the message was already sent, it would leave me free to meet with him, in private, to find out."

"Why in private?"

"We both know if he was brought here, every word would be dissected. And if, by chance, there was something the higher-ups didn't want us to know, we would never hear of it."

"You're asking me to lie to them!" Misaki hissed.

"And you did not lie when you omitted BK-201 from your report?" Primrose responded quietly. Misaki's eyes narrowed, her mouth thin with rage.

"How the hell do you know –"

"I'm not asking you to betray them!" Primrose said earnestly. "Just to help me uncover the truth."

Misaki fumed silently, mulling it over.

"Please," The pretty smile flared across her face as she added "Right now you're my best and only friend."

Misaki groaned inwardly.


"One advantage of being a cat is people rarely notice when you're following them."

"Must be handy for a contractor." The man eyed Mao nervously. "Can I ask where we're going?"

"Just out to meet a friend of mine."

"A friend?" If anything the man looked more uncomfortable. The cat merely flicked his tail and jumped onto the low wall.

"They'll be looking for me after yesterday."

"I'm sure."

They rounded the corner. Before them stood what must have once been a quite modern mall complex, its glass fronts and doors shinning dully before fading again as the sun slid in and out of a cloud bank. Most shops had paper over the windows, but at least one still boldly displayed a row of mannequins modelling summer fashions. The empty car park added to the dilapidated impression, but to the man's surprise he could see people inside.

"Didn't know people had money to spend these days."

"If there's one thing about humans, they can always find money for junk." Mao sighed. "This way."

There was a café, tucked to the side of the entrance, in which sat a young man in a white shirt, buttoned so that only the top of fresh bandages could be seen crossed over his chest. His lengthening black hair was well kept and he seemed calm, most of the way through a large bowl of beef udon, the other bowls stacked beside him.

The man's eyes darted to the cat before fixing on Hei, his expression as if he were being lead to the gallows.

"I didn't think…well I wasn't expecting you. I would have thought you'd be far away by now." He took the seat opposite and felt Mao jump onto his lap. Hei looked up, his face a mask.

"You're Hiroshi?"

"Itô Hiroshi, yes. How did you know who I would be?"

"We have someone else coming." Mao purred beneath the table. "She told us."

"She?"

"What do you know of Izanami?" The night-eyes stared without blinking. Hiroshi visibly sweated.

"I was part of a team that worked with Madame Orielle four years ago on something she discovered whilst with Dr Pavlichenko – actually, I think she knew before then; that it helped her and the doctor to construct the ME, and we were only assigned later." He ran a hand through his hair and glanced about apprehensively. "What we were working on…we fed some things to PANDORA and the Syndicate – technology, papers – but never to suggest there was more behind it. That way, Madame Orielle could keep it for herself, but it all had to be so secret. Most of had only parts of the picture; only me and one or two others knew the reasons behind our work."

"Which were what?"

"To…to unlock the power of the Black Lilly."

Hei stared.

"The what?"

"Not what," Hiroshi looked away. "Who."

"How is this 'Black Lilly' connected to Izanami?"

Hiroshi shook his head violently.

"Not here. If the Syndicate –"

"The Syndicate was destroyed." Mao said, rising from his lap. Again, Hiroshi shook his head.

"If you protect me, Black Reaper, I'll tell you everything." He glanced back around, focussing for a brief moment on a man by the shop opposite. "I know they're coming for me."

Hei felt the rents twinge in his chest, but knew he had no choice. He nodded. Hiroshi stood, face grey, and watched as Mao darted away to find Primrose.

"Where will we go now?"

"Just stay close to me."


The man opposite watched them stand without reaction, eyes to the floor. Without apparent signal, he drew an object into his hand, carefully concealing it behind his fingers. He added the bullets, murmuring a rhyme to himself.

"Four, five, how to stay alive,

Six, seven, go to hell or go to heaven…"


The rain started again, little rivulets on the glass curling and merging, almost artfully. Primrose heard it first: a tapping on the skylight. She had watched the two men and the cat as they talked, sat still and silent in the clothes shop across from them. She watched as they stood, the man called Itô Hiroshi twitching like a starling. She remembered his face perfectly, unlike so many things that fragmented as she tried to grasp them. The tapping increased.

And, just like that, time slowed.

From her vantage, she saw the gun before they did, saw it rise as she leapt. Hei swivelled toward the movement, but it was too far. Instead, he pulled Hiroshi behind him as they ran for the door. A single shot seared across his back, but whether by luck or charity, his body had been pushed beneath its path by the man at his side, before he himself took the bullet between his ribs.

Glass shattered. Primrose burst through the shop's front, landing behind the man with her fingers on his neck, breaking it with a snap. Too slow, too late, and she watched the others, momentum carrying them through one set of doors, and then the other, landing finally under the weeping sky.

Hei choked, winded, turning to Hiroshi. With an effort, he rolled the man onto his back, blood pouring from the wound in his chest.

"You…you," He coughed, spraying the blood that pooled in his mouth. "I'm sorry."

"No, doctor –"

"You came here because you loved her. Even though, it's like a dream for you." He looked up into the rain. "I loved like that once. You…have to find her. The Black Lilly. She holds the key to what you seek."

He was overcome by a fit of chocking. Hei nodded, but couldn't tear himself away as the man spoke, so softly it was hard to hear.

"She smiled at me once. Her eyes were like…a green ocean. When I watched her sleep, I thought about her eyes. Sometimes I waited there until she woke, just so I could see them again. Those…beautiful moments will be lost in time, like…tears in the rain."

Hei's throat constricted. In slender fingers, he took the man's hand and held it to his punctured chest.

"I…always thought it was a pity she wouldn't live. But…then again…"

The eyes closed. And then it was just the rain, trickling slowly down the young face.

Time passed, determined to make up for its lapse. But he couldn't move, not even when Primrose knelt beside him on the broken glass. Without a word, she reached for Hei's hand, still clasped over Hiroshi's, and moved it slowly away so her own rested in its place. The Black Reaper fell back onto his hands, unknowing of what to do. Many times he had seen people die, but not like that. Havoc lying in the street flashed before his eyes, her red hair the same colour as the blood staining the pavement. He saw Yin, crumpled and deathly in his arms, the white light still fading through them, in that moment when he had thought –

"I'll take care of him." The girl said quietly, her voice an orchestra. "Now…run."

It took a moment for the words to sink in, but he nodded, rising unsteadily to his feet. He left like a shadow, leaving Primrose with the lake of blood.


"How did they get here before you?"

"They must have been watching." She had phoned for help as soon as Hei left, waiting by the body until they came.

"Your hands –"

"It's fine." She glanced at the criss-cross of tiny cuts. "I don't suppose you have a tissue?"

They had offered her a blanket, commenting on the shattered remains of both doors.

"It's just like from a movie I watched once." Misaki said absently. Whether it was from shock or just the sheer weariness she felt inside, Primrose giggled. Misaki gave her a look of disgust before turning back to the scene they watched from the car park railing. Without hesitation, Primrose reached for the draw-pin that held back her hair and pulled, letting it fall back in an obsidian waterfall. Misaki stared.

"Who are you?"

She hesitated.

"If I told you my real name, would you stop asking?"

Misaki appeared to think it over before nodding, as if she were signing a binding contract. Primrose smiled.

"Well, I chose Rose, and then Primrose, because it fitted all together. Clichéd, but comforting."

"So what is your real name?"

"Lilly."