'No! The economical structure in Tokyo must not be brought down. Society has succumbed many times to your system of politics and it's time to change. We will make a republic again as soon as the population starts to regenerate. With the help of Sector 8—.'
'Sector 8, are you kidding me? I think it's time we stopped their mass production of A.I! They are in the process of engineering another. Soon the city will be destroyed by those damn things.'
'I agree'
'So do I'
'Now wait, that one A.I is protecting our city—.'
I listened from the top story and watched in infrared as the Vice minister and many other people argued all about the insubstantial economic system and politics. As long as Sector 8 existed, all meetings about these unimportant topics will be terminated. Sector 8 will deal with any material that has to do with the military and well being of Tokyo. After all, had it not been for Sector 8, WWIII would have destroyed the world. We are in control.
'In time people will come to see our ways. My ways will suit the city just--.'
'Not while I'm around,' I cut him off.
I swung into the window of the 19th floor. I'm gonna feel this tomorrow, I thought.
Glass shattered and covered the floor in a wave of crystal shards. I unhooked my rope and dropped it out the window. I turned and looked out at the city. Tokyo…So beautiful and yet so grotesque. I cocked my head to the side. The secret to finding out what's in the heart of Tokyo is to really look at it. Talk to it. Befriend Tokyo and you've got a friend for life. When I finally turned around I realized people were yelling at me. Someone was running towards me with such a livid face that it would take a normal human 4.3 seconds to actually figure out that this man was human.
Even though this man was running, he never reached me…
Blood splattered all the way to the other side of the room and on the faces of my audience. I smiled in spite of the blood dripping down my left cheek and aimed both my Beretta M1934 Commercial handgun and Walther P99 handgun at the rest of the room. The Beretta being my favorite; rarely will I use both at the same time, though this occasion to me, was special.
'Ja ne!' I fired without blinking. Screams were in the air. I could smell death. Taste it on my tongue. And regardless of my only being an AI, I loved this sensation; the sensation of life's in my hand; the sensation I get when I crush those lifes underneath my strong hands; and laugh.
Blood. Blood everywhere. Body parts where spewed around. Some thought that they could hide behind couch's, which was now, just a wooden frame; if not even. Blood dripped off of the walls, broken lamps. The red liquid tasted metallic on my tongue as I licked my lips. I threw down the guns and turns around to face a window that was still intact. I starred back at me.
It was a horrifying sight: me. Blood dripped off my chin length hair down my neck. On my face, red liquid dripped off my nose and slid over my full mouth. My artificial gray eyes didn't blink when a stream of blood ran down my forehead onto my eyes, but my eyelashes let the blood drip off onto my cheek. Blood was splattered across my chest and thighs all the way down to my boots. I blinked slowly and my man made eyelashes brushed against my cheek.
I am flawless. I was made to be beautiful. But this was not a beautiful sight. It looked as if I had gotten into a fight with a tiger, and lost. I smiled in spite of my ugliness and stepped over to the window I had shattered. Looking out over my friend, I stepped out onto the edge or at least as far as I could step without falling. The wind caressed my cheeks and I could feel the roughness of blood on my skin. It's starting to dry, I thought. Spreading out my arms, I closed my eyes.
'You! Stay right there! You are under arrest--,' a man from a helicopter was saying. His searchlight was shining on me but it didn't bother me. Neither did the man. I didn't hear him. I didn't want to. The propeller of the helicopter; it made such a relaxing sound. Men with big guns were running into the room and someone was barking orders to his little pawns.
I turned around to face these men. FBI. I smiled at them and mouthed, (since they wouldn't have heard me over the noise anyways) 'Konban wa. Watashi wa ummei ronja desu…shimasu ka?' I leaned back and closed my eyes. Weightlessness seized my body and I plunged to the ground. I opened my eyes just in time to see the 19th floor explode. The windows crashed and decided to follow me to hell: just where we all belonged. I smiled at my thought and watched as the impact of the explosion made the helicopter swerve and crash into the 18th floor, which was already falling apart.
I closed my eyes again and smiled at the feeling of my hair wiping against my cheeks. I thought back to what I had said: 'Good evening. I believe in fate…do you?' Where had that come from? I chuckled. But the chuckle was grasped from my mouth and eaten by the wind before it started.
My reflection… it had pleased me. I liked it. In fact I loved it. But why had a simple reflection brought on my thoughts about fate? An answer in itself again…I am afraid that I must conclude my question with: it will never be answered, sadly.
My vision began to fade as my system shut down. I could feel my skin sag against the metal inside me. And all I remember is the blackness that I had befriended a long time ago.
