Why, Hiroaki? Why?

It wasn't true. it couldn't be true. But it was true; he knew it, in his heart of hearts he knew that it was true. What else could it be? Hiroaki had not written for more than a year, it would be easy for his family to forget about a friend in America. He began to cry. It was so fast and so sudden that, at first, he didn't even notice it. Not until he put his hand to his face, trying to cover his eyes, to make it all go away, did he realize that he was crying. Then he tasted the salt as his tears rolled silently down his cheeks into his open mouth. He closed it fast, not wanting that taste. That awful taste. Oikawa fell to his knees in front of his desk, he was sobbing loud and wildly. His roommate, who was just awakened by the noise, yelled his sympathy.

"Shut the fuck up! You fuckin' moron!"

"Why, Hiroaki? Why?" He heard himself saying. Another bellow from his roommates room, but he didn't hear it. He didn't finish reading the letter. He didn't need to, nor did he want to. In fact he wouldn't read the rest of the letter for several years; even though he never went anywhere without it. It was close to his heart always (side-by-side with a picture of Hiroaki), it would be more then ten years before he finished reading the letter. No matter how hard he tried in the mean time, he could never get past that first line:

Dear Oikawa,

Hiroaki is Dead.

It would eat him up inside. He soon found that he was wandering, aimlessly, down the hall. Across the campus grounds. Receiving the same stares all the way. You don't belong here, Oikawa. Then another Your a freak, you never will be normal. They echoed through his mind over and over and over again until he began to believe them. He was still sobbing wildly, the salt taste growing stronger all the time. But as he went, noticing it less and less. He heard himself again.

"Why, Hiroaki? Why?" He knew it was a question that he would never get an answer to. But he asked it anyway. Over and over. He soon found himself at the counseling office. He would sign himself out. And he would not come back. Even the secretaries in the office were looking at him like he didn't belong. A freak in some circus side show.

"Welcome to the Ringling Brothers famous Three Ring Circus!" He could hear the Ring Master saying. "Come one! Come all! See the man who lovers work! He paid his own way through college and doesn't party! He cries over every little thing like the death of a close friend! A friend so close, ladies and gentlemen, that they hadn't written each other in more than a year!" The crowd began to laugh and point. The children gave there parents looks of fright. "It's so disgusting, mommy." "Yes dear, that's why they call it a freak!" The Ring Master was also laughing... "Remember folks, don't feed it, it may be dangerous!"

He found himself out in the parking lot, then in his car. Soon he was driving down the highway. Tears still rolling down his cheeks, they had subsided a little, but they were still coming. He knew what he would do. It would mean the end of his career, but he would do it. He would pull into the first Air Port he saw, he would buy a one way ticket back to Japan. He would go home.

Dear Oikawa,

Hiroaki is Dead.

He found himself thinking of the letter, that horrible letter; if only he hadn't opened it. Another fresh steady flow of tears followed that thought. His mind was in such a jumble that he missed the first Air Port. But that didn't matter; he would find another one. The tears were blurring his vision now, and, what part of him could be, he was amazed that it had taken as along as it did to start taking affect on his vision. He got to the Air Port, feeling lucky to be alive. But that made him think of Hiroaki's death once again. Bringing on more tears. He had another bit of luck at the Air Port. The first bit was that he made it there without crashing his car and killing himself. Although he thought that that might not have been such a bad consequence, if he had died he would get to see Hiroaki again. Then second was that there was a plane leaving for Japan in ten minutes and there were still some tickets left. It seemed that some greater power was on his side for once in his life.

The ticket man asked no questions; he even looked as if he wanted to get this strange sobbing man away from his booth. When the flight was announced and they were being boarded, amazingly he was the only one in the terminal. Tears still pouring from his eyes. He didn't know why Hiroaki's death had hit him so hard. The hadn't written in almost a year. But...maybe, just maybe, that was the reason. They had been best friends as kids and all through their teenage years. Suddenly they both go off to college. He got married and had kids, or rather, a kid; even though he was still in college. Oikawa was always a worker. He had used phrases concerning marriage and girlfriend with the words "when I get time." If he was married to anything it was to whatever he was doing at the time. Of course he had been set up with a few girls on more than one occasion, and he didn't mind; but it wasn't something that he was looking for at that point in his life. But now he was dead. Sitting on the plane he did nothing. Ate nothing, and talked to no one. Even though the plane was virtually full, there were just enough empty seats that there was no one sitting in the same row with him. he had calmed considerably now, but those salty tears still continued to roll. Slower then at first, but still going, silently.

He didn't know how long the trip was. He may have slept, but he wasn't sure. The stewardesses didn't bother him. Now he was home, walking down the streets of Heighten View Terrace. Somewhere along the way to the Air Port he had stopped at his bank and retrieved his remaining money for college. He didn't remember it, but it was good that he had gotten it. At least now he could pay for a place to stay for the night. A roof over his head would be good, he couldn't go to his house; his parents had kicked him out when he announced that he was leaving for America. It was raining steadily, and that seemed to add to his depression. Once he was in a Hotel, he pulled the letter out of his pocket to finish reading it.

Dear Oikawa,

Hiroaki is Dead.

He couldn't finish. He read just that far again when the tears began again even stronger than the last time; he lay down on the bed and fall into a dark and dreadful, but much needed sleep.

He woke to find himself walking along the shore of an ocean. A Dark Ocean. Everything was dark. He could see a light house in the distance, or was it just his imagination...? no, it couldn't be. Or could it. the light...it was...was it? It was shinning dark light! How was this possible? He started running towards it. Crying out for help, but no sound could escape his lips. When it seemed he had been running for ever but not making any progress at all he stopped and collapsed to the ground in a dreadful sobbing mass. What had happened? Why was he here? Where was here? Where just a few of the many questions running through his mind.

"Why, Hiroaki? Why?

Something was watching him, he could feel it's eyes on him. He spun around. Nothing. Just an empty expanse of darkness. Then he heard it.

"Oikawa," A little girls voice said. He turned once more. One-hundred and eighty degrees. There before him stood a little girl. About the age of ten. She looked like she was Chinese...but white...then there were features that could be called distinctively American, and yet other features that were defiantly Japanese. And then he saw more, something about her could not be described as human. She looked deathly pale. The voice came again.

"Oikawa. Oikawa. Do you remember me?" She questioned. Her eyes seemed to see right through him. He did not; and he tried to say so, but he still could not talk.

"Oikawa, Oikawa. It does not matter. I will use you. He will try, and he will fail. But I, I, I, will succeed where he fails."

He wanted desperately to reply, to ask a question. But he couldn't.

"Oikawa, Oikawa. Do not fear. I will help you." The girl took a few steps toward him. He started to step back, but couldn't. No, he didn't want to. He took a few steps toward her. Then a bright light. A pain in his face as if someone was shoving a spike through his skull. Then, in an instant. The pain was gone. He opened his eyes; the girl was gone. He was now awake in his own hotel bed in his own hotel room. No where near any ocean. The rain had stopped and the sun was coming out. The letter was on the night stand along with the picture of Hiroaki. The edges of the picture, and the letter, were beginning to blacken. Like someone had taken a match to it but only the edges had caught on fire.

It was a month before he left the hotel that he was staying at. He would only leave during that time to go down the front desk and pay for another couple of nights. He was thinking. His mind was spinning rapidly. He wanted some time alone. One day he decided that he wanted to see Hiroaki's grave. Why? he didn't know. He knew that when he saw it he would have another break down; this one could be worse. It was a very sunny day. It should have been a good day. But to Oikawa, certain circumstances wouldn't let the day be a good one. The day was June seventh, the sun was shinning, the birds were singing, the grass was green and well manicured. The world was bright and worm. It made him uncomfortable, so terribly uncomfortable; he wanted to be back in his dark hotel room but something made him continue forward. He walked slowly through the cemetery. He knew where Hiroaki's family plot was, but he didn't want to rush there. He could already feel the pain as the tears pushed their way out. He could see the grave now. It was still new. The big head stone declaring to everyone that Hiroaki was dead. Hiroaki is dead. Those words echoed through his mind. He knew that they would always trouble him. He heard himself asking that question again. Why? The unanswerable question. Why?

He was concentrating so hard on the grave only a few feet in front of him that he didn't even see Hiroaki's father standing just off to the right. The old man stood and watched. Not saying anything, but wanting to. Something inside of him kept him from talking. The tears were now running down Oikawa's face. maybe that was it. He didn't want to talk to him because he couldn't stand to see a grown man cry. It was eating away at him. but he didn't say anything. He just left. As he was walking away he heard Oikawa's words.

"Why, Hiroaki? Why?" A pause and some very painful sounding sobs. Then, almost yelling, he continued. "We were going to go together! You and I! The first of many! Why did you have to do this?" More sobbing; and now much calmer, but still almost hostile. "I'll finish it. It will be just as planned. I will miss you, my friend."

Sean Marcus was sitting at his desk late one night in mid August. School was going to be starting again soon. He had said every year that he would get an early start in preparing for it. It looked like it might actually happen this year. But then again...maybe not. He had been on the campus since ten o'clock that morning; it was now nine-thirty that night. He had done no work that entire day. He had just been sitting there, staring at the wall. A wall that would soon be holding comical poster about computers. A wall that would also hold the informative posters about a new programming language that had just recently been released. C. It was a very complex language, and very powerful. Maybe he would find a good "Far Side" joke to tape to his desk.

His desk, he looked down at his desk. A small disk sat undisturbed. He was lucky, or rather, it was lucky that he had made a copy of Oikawa's AI project before sending it to that company out west. He never got it back. He did, however, receive a letter saying that the US government had came and taken it, it was considered classified material. He supposed it would be used to control missiles, or perhaps unmanned fighter planes. Those bastards. Shortly after he had gotten the letter three men showed up on his doorstep and went through every single file he owned. Lucky for him he had just left the disk with a friend for safe keeping. He never had liked the US government. They took, no, they stole anything that the public wasn't ready to see. But there was no problem with that; the problem was the fact that the public wasn't ready to see it until the government said it was ready. A free country. Bullshit. It was a goddamn dictatorship. The US government was only a front. In reality THEY told you what to do. THEY just disguised it by saying that you could say anything that you wanted and called it freedom of speech.

He glanced at his watch, then at the clock on the wall, then back to his watch. He could leave at anytime. But he didn't want to. Something simply told that he should stay, and stay he did. The phone rang. It was so surprising and unexpected that he almost fell out of his chair. But he didn't fall out; his muscles all just relaxed at once, like this was the phone call he had been waiting for his whole life (and in a way it was), and slid out. He hit the floor with a hollow thump, but he was back on his feet in an instant and to the phone.

He picked up the receiver and fumbled it, it hit the desk; he thought that whoever was on the other end would probably have hung up after that. He finally got the phone to his ear and said, "Hello?"

"Professor Marcus?" A almost emotionless voice said on the other end.

"Yes, yes. Who is calling?" He talked fast. Like he had had and entire pot of coffee and a box of caffeine pills on the side.. But he had had no caffeine that whole day. He didn't even like coffee.

"Professor Marcus," The voice said again, "This is Oikawa."

Pro. Marcus was both shocked and relieved at the same time. He was still to excited to talk straight.

"Oikawa? Is...is that really you? You left so suddenly. I wanted to talk but...that's not the point...the government has your project...where are you...what's happened...come on come on, don't leave me hanging damnit. Oikawa they're--" All this came out in one fast, steady, all-pushed-together, stream of non-understandable words. Oikawa interrupted quietly by saying,

"Calm down Professor. I'm ok; I'm home."

"Home?" It was as if he didn't understand it, "Back in Japan?"

"Yes"

"Is that where you've been for the past three months?"

"Yes,"

"Are you coming back this year?"

"No,"

"But Oikawa you-" Oikawa interrupted once again.

"I'm finishing something. Something very important." A pause "Don't worry about the disk. Let the government keep it. I have something much more powerful now." There was a short gasp from Pro. Marcus.

"Will you send it to me?"

"No, not this time. But soon all will see it." 'Soon all will see it'? What the fuck was that supposed to mean? This wasn't the same Oikawa that Sean Marcus had once known, this felt more like a machine.

"Oikawa..." He started, but bit it off. He didn't want to mention the change. That might only make things worse.

"What is it?"

"Nothing. I've taken enough of your time. You called me for some reason. I'll let you get to the point."

"It's just a couple of questions."

"Ok, shoot."

"3D gaming is becoming more and more popular is that right."

"Yes, I don't know that much about it yet. But it is becoming the gaming rage. I doubt if it's holds up for long though. They just don't run as smooth as the 2D. But anyway."

"How would you do that? Do you use a 3D modeler, or just code it."

"Well currently you would just code it all. I've seen some 3D model editors, but they all suck. Low form polygons and stuff like that. Very low edibility. Why? You planning on doing some 3D programming."

"A little,"

"Does this have anything to do with the Counsel?"

"Yes."

"Sounds exciting. Is that all that you wanted to know?"

"Yes. Thank you very much, Professor Marcus."

With that the conversation was over. Oikawa hung up. Pro. Marcus could not help but fell a little bit scared how that last sentence had come out. 'Thank you very much, Professor Marcus.' But Sean couldn't help feeling a little excited. He had envisioned a supper smart 3D Counsel. With the release of the C programming language he could make his AI program a hundred times better. Maybe it would be used to replace government leaders. It was a good thought considering his recent entanglement with the US. But what Sean didn't know was that The Counsel was only a small, very small, part in the grand plan that Oikawa and Hiroaki had made years ago.

Oikawa had spent the last three months in front of a small computer screen in his house that he was renting. Coming out only every once in a while to eat. His land lords were worried, but he didn't bother them so they wouldn't bother him. In the first month he had slept less than 24 hours total. He had completely mastered Assembler. Then for nearly 24 hours a day in the second month (in which he got even less sleep than the first) making a new, and extremely powerful programming language. It was obvious that he was a genius, at current only in his own eyes, but if anyone had seen his work they would agree without a second thought. He had made the worlds first programming language that was more powerful than what was used to program it. It was a painstaking task. It was only accomplished in the end by a language that the most common alphabet used in it contained more than 300 symbols. Then on top of that it contained three sub languages that held more then 150 symbols each. To program with it he had to spend the last of his college money and have three keyboards custom made, all of them rapped around a sphere. He had also spent more then fifty-thousand dollars to buy a server to store all the data on.

Now at the end of the fourth month he was done with the landscaping of this Digital-World. He wanted to think of a different name, but couldn't think of one that would do it more justice then 'The Digital-World' so he left it a that. For in fact, that is exactly what it was. He would now program the two main energy sources for this world. One more look a Hiroaki's diagrams and notes. What were the two energy sources to be called? Scanning through the notes he found the names.

"The Crests of Hope and Light," He read out loud. With that he threw his head back and laughed. Not a joyous laugh, but an almost evil laugh. It echoed through the dark room and out into the night.

"Hope and Light. That's a joke." He stopped to think. "Very well, Hiroaki. Hope and Light it is." He went back to typing steadily. Hope and Light. the words echoed in his mind. There was no hope or light anymore. That is why he worked in a dark, windowless room. No hope, No Light.

"Why, Hiroaki? Why?"