Chapter Eight – The Folly Of Feeling Safe
TEHRAN
The head officer of The Iranian Republican Guard watched the Imam fall down to his knees and beg of God, The Prophet and The Blessed Imam Founder that the horned girls pass The Islamic Republic by entirely.
While never one to discount prayer, for this particular miracle, the man understandably had his doubts. Yet in all things mortal and divine, some outlandish things are still possible, and as the children said, sometimes the answer is yes. While nations and powers around Iran fell and convulsed or made unthinkable plans, the horned girls found geographic obstacles and other obstructions, while the grim task of finding infected infants was carried out quietly. Families that felt cursed by the new births welcomed those that took the children away, and a firm hand kept anyone from deciding to repeat Kakuzawa's madness within the confines of old Persia.
Yet the young people also said to be wise and sage in what you wished for. As it turned out, this was often as true of prayers offered up to the One God as wishes made to a djinn. It was true that the horned girls did not besiege The Islamic Republic. In fact, it became known as a beacon of order and safety.
Therein lay the problem, because when you shine a beacon, whether it is there or not, people will attend it. The Diclonius, for all their vast power, were a group of little girls largely on their own, and the journey to penetrate Iran proved too much for most.
But to the various peoples of the Middle East, whose ancestors made livelihood, trade and life itself upon trails and paths so blank and twisting GPS's were joked to shut down in fear before entering, natural barriers were jokes.
Needless to say, not everyone came. The Israelis and the Saudis had taken the odd, need-driven, unofficial stance of watching each other's backs for the movement of the horned girls. From The Gulf to Cyprus, each power knew what was happening in a wide circle around them. Junior intelligence officers were chastised for not sharing enough information during this existential crisis.
Those in other countries who had the money, as the saying goes, sought fast exit from Dodge City. The question did arise as to where to go, but for these folk Iran seemed very much out of the question.
It wasn't that the country's borders were open, by any means. But that said, defenses were erected against sudden hostile incursions, being young men with heavy arms, not the old, sick and helpless with pleading eyes. Yet among them, there were no children. No children at all. The girls had been dealt with first; the boys went when a rumor spread that the crafty horned ones disguised themselves as boys. In harsh climes where some manner of head covering was not only a faith-based but a practical must, this trick was actually easy to pull off.
The Diclonius who later heard about it wished that they had actually thought of such a trick.
Some border guards called these lost souls their brothers in Allah and guided them in, until local villages and tribal networks were wholly overwhelmed.
Some other guard units called them fiends and child murderers, and herded them to be executed en masse, and quite effectively—until one outpost effectively ran out of ammunition. What followed was ugly even by the standards of Hussein's War in the 1980's. Whatever their crimes, those herded turned on their judges, forcing other positions and outposts to aid them, in turn losing control of their charges.
Even with their rage and desperation, the crowds were hungry tired refugees against well-trained, well-armed and better cared-for soldiers, and the uprisings were kept under control. A fatwa issued from on high directed that the crimes of those who sought refuge were best left to the one being who knew every crime of man, confessed or not.
This seemed to satisfy the fervent, and the disgusted. This being Iran, the Shia refugees were given preferential treatment (though there were fewer of them, making this easy) while the Sunni had to pledge not to raise arms against the state. This they did on several levels of government, their elders feeling God would understand when the devils assaulted all other nations. What God would or would not understand was debatable; what desperate Humans would tolerate was falling onto an increasingly short list.
"We have every cause to be proud of the hand we have extended to those who flee the chaos beyond our borders. But as of now, we restrict entry only to those who hold to our central beliefs as we bow and say as ever and always, There Is Only One God, and Mohammed Is His Last Full and True Prophet."
Those words from the supreme religious authority said it politely, yet starkly: From then on, only Shia would be admitted. This was also practical, since again, there simply weren't as many Shia as Sunni in the lands of ancient glory. It was thought this would keep the match from being struck, inside the tinderbox that was also a safety zone. But some matches are more easily struck than others.
By turns it happened, and it happened slowly enough to have been stopped had it been recognized, and also too quickly to really be recognized. In short, the diaspora became a wave of desperate people who no longer cared. One guard's diary, de-encrypted much later on, described the wave that emerged as being something like a Western zombie movie (that he confiscated from a disbeliever, of course) wherein the turned creature seemed to barely recognize what it had once held dear in life. In this case, it was calls to Allah and the Prophet from the assaulted soldiers. Whether it was the horrors they'd endured or the horrors they themselves had inflicted, the desperate hordes must have viewed themselves as damned or abandoned.
Or maybe they no longer felt anything at all.
The Imam sat with the leaders, those who could make it, and all knew things were rapidly done with. For the coffee he served was of that one special blend. The one the Blessed Imam Founder had made sure was always in supply, after his exile in France. It was never to be unsealed until the End Of Days.
"Gentlemen, once we were dismissed as a crazed horde. Now, in the sight of merciful God, he gives us a good ironic laugh by sending a true crazed horde to undo all that we have built. And if we want Death To America, we need merely turn on cable news - or we would, if my grandkids weren't watching German reruns of Hogan's Heroes - they added in a dubbed secretary or something. In any wise, we will soon join the Imam Founder, and receive harsh rebukes for our foolishness. For example, I now wish we'd made peace with the Israelis and teamed up against the damned Saudis-they would NEVER have seen that one coming!"
He raised his favorite mug, one adorned with raised grapes, that his wife and his mother declared too ugly for ceremonies.
"To dreams and ideals and goals never realized, and to the God who gave us a chance to grab at them, even if for too short a season."
The grunting chants outside were already reaching their ears as the pastry cart arrived.
WASHINGTON, D.C.
Nana saw the man she called the 'Onii-Chan' former President approach with a blonde lady, who she guessed was the mother of her new friend, CC. The lady smiled while looking her over. She then looked at her husband.
"Think you can behave yourself around this one?"
The woman now reminded Nana of Yuka. Nana hoped that wouldn't affect the votes she sought for higher office.
"Hey, give me a break. Her appearance aside, she's like eight. Even the right-wing rags haven't tagged me with that. Well, the Spectator did, but ya know, them."
Nana felt somewhat offended.
"Nana is nine, and next year, she will be ten!"
The woman chuckled, and then shifted to the best Japanese she'd heard a foreigner ever speak.
**Kurama-Chan, can we talk privately?**
The Onii-Chan President nodded, and excused himself, and Nana saw the current President nod, giving the impression he approved of this message. The older Papa President was nowhere to be seen. Nana would later learn he was spoiling his two recently-punished granddaughters to ease the literal sting, and to keep them out of further trouble.
*Madam, you are a United States Senator, is that correct?*
Nana had been instructed somewhat on the American governmental structure by her Papa and by Julie Kyle. But sometimes, she still ended up thinking America's lawmakers lived in a house with two stories.
**Yes. But even though I, my husband and the current President are from different parties, we've come together for this crisis. For example, there is a major donor to both parties, a real estate developer in New York, who was denouncing all efforts in this matter. Since we felt this was causing even greater panic than we already had, we tried to talk to him. But he refused to speak. We think now that his private jet, and all his family aboard, is lost. But still talking is always worth the effort. Nana-chan? What are you going to talk about?**
Nana almost resented the woman getting too familiar too quickly, but also took it she was not one to waste time.
*Nana would like to try and see to it that those of her people who can be saved are. I would like to try and tell them not to attack Humans, since that will only make things worse. But a lot of them will not have radios, TV's or phones to hear me. Those that might hear me may not wish to. Nana wishes she were a hero like Son-Goku. Oh-you may not know who he is!*
The Senator shook her head, but in this to case to contradict Nana.
**I've actually read several good translations of 'Journey To The West'. But I also know all about the anime featuring Son-Goku and his friends.**
Nana now became a bit suspicious. The Senator did not look remotely like any otaku she had ever seen.
*You do? But how do you have time for all that?*
Her smile seemed maybe a bit too knowing, Nana felt. But then again, better too knowing then like the late Kakuzawa, too uncaring about facts.
**Back in the early 90's, when my husband was running for President, we were on the move, with crazy schedules and sleep patterns. Meaning you watched what TV you could, when you could. Watching the news could make you crazy, so I watched this newly-dubbed Japanese cartoon. It was shown at odd times in the early morning and afternoon, and it was that early dub people make so much fun of. But it was something to watch, and I'm just the sort that needs to see a story through to its finish-for that see my marriage-and so I kept up after. Even watched the original-wished I hadn't watched the third series, though Level 4 was pretty cool.**
If Nana had any doubts that this was a smart lady, they were erased by what she said next.
**Nana, it's a fun show. But you have to remember, its savvy hero is a sometimes dense, well-meaning, selfish kind of guy-have to wonder why I keep falling for those-and you have to do better, if you want to help people, yours or ours. You must enter the world stage, already knowing what you wish to say, and say it clear and true. Goku and my Willie often got second chances, but the world isn't often so kind to us gals. On the other hand, we are sometimes extended a better first chance than the boys get, so work that. Make your first words count as nothing in your life ever has. Recall your greatest mistake, and do everything differently. Then you will have honored Son-Goku by exceeding him in overcoming his greatest weakness.**
The Senator then asked her daughter, who had aided Nana inside the White House, to guide her up to the podium. After the President had spoken, she would. Nana thought about her greatest mistake. That one was easy. Like before, she was approaching something she knew to be dangerous. But unlike with Lucy, she would prevail in shaping the world's opinion of the Diclonius.
At least, Nana hopes that she will be able to do this...
"...and the words of the Good Book have turned my sorry life around, so no one tell me I don't hold to them. With that said, seeing Armageddon in the current crisis is wrong, and it may even be blasphemous. Folks, that there is up to GOD and no other, and my readings didn't include little girls with horns. I hate to disagree with the TV Preachers - some of them are my pals, and they've been my guides in life. But we are going to get through this. Because we are thinking beings, and whatever some people want to say about me, I am smart enough to seek peace where I can find it. Well, we just may have found it. Japan has sent an Ambassador from the Diclonius Girls, a sweet little lady who says she's their queen. I want you all to hear her out, and to those other young ladies with the horns - I especially want you to hear her. There's a lot more riding on this than one or two elections, or the mistakes I've made, or the mistakes made by my predecessors. Her name is Kurama Nana, and she has pledged to give her every aid in ending this conflict. Queen Nana, I ask you to rise and speak now. Because we need a child's vision to raise the world back up from the edge of the abyss. Because Revelation or no, we are a world in trouble. Ladies and Gentlemen of the Press Corps, I give you Queen Nana."
Nana just barely caught herself about to say she wasn't his to give, but allowed that his meaning was not really about that. As the applause died down, Nana closed her eyes, then opened them, diving deep into her chosen words.
"There should be peace between our species. There must be. I wish I had the power to do this through words alone, but to the girls like me out there, who have their own will and are not programmed by a foolish person named Kakuzawa, I ask and plead that you stop. You will not make things better, but only worse, by these attacks. Most Humans don't know you yet, and will not understand how you have suffered. All they will see is themselves and their loved ones being hurt, just as many of you have been. I have spoken with all three Presidents, and someone who may one day be President, and I have been assured that we can have peace if you walk away from the controlled ones. I understand. You feel like this world is not for you, so maybe you have to break it in order to make one where you belong. I know a horned girl who tried that, but trying this did not help her. Let us know peace. Apart, for awhile, maybe we even have to. Hopefully, eventually, together. But the poison of these attacks will not stay in one place. They will poison all the world, and make it unlivable for anyone. In a story I love, a great hero gave his greatest enemies a second chance, and many of those became his greatest friends. I also know that a story is just a story. But maybe if we all work together, we can make this story real."
Nana realized that these were all the words she really had. But CC's mother sat near to the front of the audience, and gave her a look of firm approval. However, she and the others also directed her to look at other people assembled there. These were reporters, and Nana could only hope they were as friendly as the leaders she'd met.
"Queen Nana, how did you girls come into existence? Is the government of Japan experimenting on living beings?"
In the audience, Kurama felt his blood freeze. Nana's next words could determine the fate of their nation.
"Kakuzawa-San did this. There was a lot he did not tell to the government. There were even secrets he kept from his own family. But he did not create us. A girl named Lucy was born with horns, and she spread the ability to make more children to men in Kamakura. She is gone now."
The bullet was dodged, at least on a public level, but Kurama almost wished she had exposed her countrymen and their government. He would get part of his wish all too soon.
"Queen Nana, have you considered plastic surgery, to hide your horns, or have them removed entirely? If they draw negative attention, then have simply considered - not being Diclonius?"
Nana looked a bit indignant, but kept her calm.
"It really doesn't work that way. Sometimes, I wish it could. But without our horns, we will die. Only Lucy could survive this, and mainly because of her strong will, You see, she had a need to meet, a promise to fulfill. One even more important to her than attacking Humans. She did that a lot."
Kurama got a light nudge from Julie Kyle, seated next to him. She nodded, and he nodded back, the meaning apparent.
*This is going a lot better than I expected.*
The next question would prove the most challenging, but it was a challenge Nana would meet well.
"Queen Nana, you ask for peace, but can this ever really be? You have your girls attacking us on the one hand, and some Humans responding in the most horrific ways on the other. Our track record is not that great in dealing with our own species. So in asking for this wondrous peace, how can you expect anyone to believe it's even possible for these two groups to co-exist? Because I seriously have to doubt that they can, for any length of time, anywhere."
Nana smiled an absolutely enchanting smile. It was said by some commentators to echo that of no less than the late Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis, long considered the gold standard of America's 'First Ladies'.
"You're wrong. I know that such a place exists. Because that is where Nana lives with her family. I could tell you about all of them all day, till I bored you to tears. But instead, I'll speak of just one of them. Because when I first came to live there, we didn't get along at all."
She plainly had the crowd, and though she couldn't know it directly, the viewers and listeners beyond that crowd.
"But one night, after a vicious fight with Lucy, he came to get me. Even carried me home on his back, because my shoes were gone. We found the silliest thing that we had in common, and he explained the story of this thing to me. You see, he had lost his little sister when he was very young, and so protected us girls as best he could. He even took jobs on top of his college work, to make sure there was enough food. One night, he brought me home a small cup of orange sherbet and an American pastry you call a Fortune Cookie. Just because. But I didn't know the depths of his kindness."
She sniffed.
"You see, he hadn't merely lost his little sister. She was murdered. Brutally murdered, and the killer was also living with us. For a long time, he didn't recall who she was - and neither did she. Looking back, it really doesn't make that much sense. Yet the time came that Kouta remembered who Lucy really was, and what she had done to him, all out of a horrible misunderstanding. For all that, he tried not to send her away. The part of Lucy that was our friend Nyu was something he did not wish to give up. So he asked her to come back and stay with us, so long as she never killed again. But too much was happening, and Lucy died. She was badly ill, and she asked the one who loved her best of all to end her pain. Then Kouta-San killed Lucy-San, and with her Nyu-Chan."
Nana regained her composure and began to finish.
"Nana had no love for Nyu, when she was Lucy. Yes, she was a horned girl, too. But to Lucy-"
Nana removed her right arm as the audience of reporters and dignitaries gasped.
"-that didn't always matter. I have three others just like this one. And Kouta lost not only Kanae-Imouto, but their Papa as well that horrible night. And do you know why it happened? Because a little girl who loved a little boy thought he was running around on her. Yes, Lucy had pain that drove her to hurtfulness and stupidity. But at her core, she was the same as any other girl her age. Yet for all that hurt, I know Kouta would have taken her back. I hold all the residents of Maple House precious to me. But I hold a special place in my heart for someone I was certain I would never get along with. So that peace is possible, and Kami willing, I will soon return to it."
When Nana realized the crowd was still attending her words, she found she had more to say. It was almost exciting.
"There is also Yuka-San, who calms us all down - when she doesn't need calming herself. There is Mayu-Chan, like my own sister, and recently revealed as my cousin. She is so strong. Nozomi-chan's voice is like that of an angel, and her bravery helped Nana to find her own and come here. We all have found peace in that house, and I believe that this peace can overtake the entire world, if we only decide to want it like we have never wanted anything before. A world of people, who have chosen-"
A voice came from the audience area beneath Nana. The audience was gasping once again as tall men surrounded the Presidents and their families.
"What utter bullcrap! But I guess you Zionist Occupational types know how to talk a good game. Well, here is the man who will call bullcrap on bullcrap! Time we all wised up to what's really going on here, folks. LIVING BREATHING AMERICAN BABIES BEING SENT TO THE SLAUGHTERHOUSE!"
Part of Nana knew something was very, very wrong. This rude, disruptive man should not have been able to get anywhere near so many leaders and journalists. But only part of her mind was noticing this.
"I don't blame you girlie. You're as much a victim of these Godless mind melters as anyone, to actually think you're some kind of new people, instead of another distraction in the long game of the great UN power grab!"
The other part of Nana's mind mostly saw the fact that wires criss-crossed every section of this man's body, and attached to these wires were sticks that leaked a black powder.
"Sir, why would you wear that kind of thing? What is it that you want here?"
Nana could feel the crazy coming off him. It was actually worse than she had ever gotten from Lucy. Almost as bad as from that horrible man who had hurt her and Mayu, before Mister Bando made him pay.
"What do I want? I want to put God's own special race back on top. I want to show the Trilaterals and Illuminati and Elders that they can be touched, and they can be hurt, and they can be killed. I'm the hero here, Purple Hair. You're working for the bad guys!"
Nana felt she knew this wasn't true. Yet she also felt she might have to take a cue from a villain.
"Tell me something, sir-"
"NO FREAKING TRICKS! THIS RIG IS LOADED WITH DEAD MAN'S SWITCHES!"
Nana hopped down from the stage and pointed as she glared at the man.
"Do not interrupt me! Nana let you speak, now let Nana ask her question!"
Despite multiple snipers staffing hundreds of vantage points, the man felt his relays had rendered him bullet-proof. He smirked.
"Why not? Ask away."
Nana breathed in and calmed herself.
"Alright, tell me something, sir-who are Furiza and Kullilin?
The former First Lady nearby bit down as she and her husband encircled their daughter with their bodies.
"Oh, this should be good."
The would-be bomber shrugged.
"What, are they part of the Bible Code?"
Before he could contemplate this, he suddenly launched like a missile into the skies above, moving out of sight just before the pressure triggers on his bomb-bodysuit did just as he promised. Above the field, US Air Force jets scrambled as they were supposed to, though the threat had passed.
"No, sir, they were from the Namek Saga. Nana is sorry. But you left her no choice."
Tears in her eyes, Nana rose back to the stage and pleaded her case before people she now felt would only see a monster.
"Please understand! Nana didn't mean to kill that poor sick man! But he was going to blow us up, and you couldn't shoot him, so I..."
But her words were drowned out, not by their boos and taunts, but by their cheers.
"Ummmm...huh?"
Once more, the former First Lady got to her side.
"Your majesty? You are now a darling of the elite of Washington, DC, and may God have mercy on your soul."
They were clapping, cheering, and wolf-whistling their petite savior, and Nana had never felt more confused.
"Nana would hope that Kami would always show her mercy. Nana and her family could really use some."