GASARAKI, A Modern Myth
Yesterday, today,
Even tomorrow—
The life I knew never seemed solid,
Forever nebulous and uncertain
Like a silhouette projected upon mist,
But a new wind blows through, clearing the mist.
Forever present,
The dark murky abyss below is swept by wind
Babbling waters echo; the introductory dance begins
Stave II. Mystery of the Armor
The tactical armor was a contraption unlike any other in the long annuls of weaponry. Its making was a matter of utmost secrecy, so that though the military was the weapon's official sponsor only a few in its ranks were at all aware of its existence until the unveiling. No small part of that elite coterie were members of Gowa family. For it was the Gowa's craftsmanship that made the machine possible. Gowa was in fact in complete charge of its experimentation and production; the military was merely the customer.
What was the tactical armor? In the boastful words of Kiyotsugu, who took vital part in its development, it was the closest thing to a living being man had put together. A bipedal machine fashioned after the human form, it also made use of much the same manner of musculature. It was much larger than a person—three times as tall and coated all around with shell resistant plates; hence the name. In looks it was domineering but supremely awkward: a busy enormous heap of moving parts, their motions jerky and graceless, so that seeing it walk you might have been reminded less of a person and more of a two-legged insect, if such a thing existed.
The purpose of a tactical armor was like that of any armor, that is, protection of the combatant within. Encased in multiple layers of metal the pilot could brave hazards unthinkable for foot soldiers and negotiate terrains that would challenge the sturdiest of wheeled vehicles. Still it must not be assumed that the pilot had anything like an easy time inside the armor. Operating it was a horribly complicated and taxing affair. It meant suspending nearly all of one's natural senses and adapting to the body of a giant weighing many tons. The pilot was wholly dependent on the machine for all incoming information. There was not even a window for looking: optic sensors provided visuals in place of his eyes. He heard nothing which the amplifiers onboard did not relay. The cockpit was no more than a man-shaped nook carved into the armor's backside, into which the pilot fairly squeezed himself. Once the hatch closed shut he had about as much mobility of his own as a victim bound to a rack. If he should grow an itchy spot he was at the mercy of his own tolerance until manually relieved from the confines. An hour inside the metal trap was enough to test the sanity of a novice and the endurance of an expert. Not infrequently pilots emerged from the machines a few pounds lighter than they were going into it.
For these reasons every tactical armor was assigned a minimum of two operators, one inside the vehicle and another monitoring from the command base. This latter, in addition to observing the armor's performance, took minute notes of the pilot's vitals—his brain activity, pulse rate, responsiveness and panic level. The armor carried an array of compounds designed to boost the operator's responsiveness and to combat fatigue and panic. These drugs the monitor administered by remote control as the vital statistics warranted. Breakdown, both of the machine and of the pilot, was always an eminent possibility. Consequently the armors were deployed in squads, and never alone. That this strange weapon and its operation involved very daunting setups indeed is, I hope, clear now.
The armor was six years in the making. It was not ready for implementation until a year prior to the events of the past chapter. Only then was a prototype handed over to the military for training of a unit which would specialize in its operation. That was the beginning of the tactical armor company. The experimental company was small, with only a single squad of armors. The youthful Lieutenant Colonel Hayakawa was put in command. Under him served a select personnel of pilots and monitors drawn from the best of the military stock.
On his first day of duty as the unit commander the colonel learned a surprising bit of news. He had been aware that most of the mechanics in the company would be provided by Gowa. This was understandable; Gowa had built the machines with little outside help, and the army as yet did not possess mechanics knowledgeable in their maintenance. But on this day Gowa was informing him that it would loan the company, in addition to mechanics, a pilot as well. The generals overseeing the project had already approved the offer. Strangely they had mounted no objection to a civilian being assigned to what was at core a combat post. Looking over the transferee's personnel information Colonel Hayakawa was surprised yet again. The pilot was not yet even an adult by law, a boy of mere sixteen. His name was Gowa Yushiro.
* * * *
But for now let us return to the present—to a few days following the curious ceremony at Kinashi. Gowa Daizaburo and his sons Kazukiyo and Kiyotsugu were discussing the findings of that dramatic evening. Kiyotsugu, the scientist, was obliged to explain the records to the others.
'These graphs indicate the transitional patterns of energy readings during the contact,' he said. 'If the patterns mean anything there was a ninety percent chance that the final stage would have been reached.'
'If he had continued the dance,' Kazukiyo said.
'If he had continued the dance,' Kiyotsugu confirmed. 'Yet even with how far he got, the readings were enormous. There was enough to match the output of a power plant.'
'We were almost there,' the father said. 'And how has Yushiro been since?'
'He will not say anything. He has secluded himself in his room.' Kazukiyo turned to his brother. 'Are you certain he stopped the experiment on his own?'
'If you mean whether he stopped voluntarily, there is no question. But there is one thing that bothers me.'
'What is it?'
'Take note of his brainwave here. Several times a recurring pattern interrupts the trance. Then the interruption is gone completely, and minutes afterwards Yushiro terminated the contact.'
'Make us understand, Kiyotsugu.'
'It is as if something—external—was distracting him during the trance. Suppose that you were intensely absorbed in some activity, and someone kept calling you aside, breaking your concentration. This is the sort of reaction I would expect in such a situation.'
'Are you saying someone interfered with the experiment from outside?' Daizaburo asked.
'From the appearance of things, Father.'
'Ah, I'm glad you are all here,' Kiyoharu, the third brother, said to the gathering as he entered the room. 'I have news I am anxious to share with you.'
'Are you coming from the base?' asked his father.
'Yes, sir. I have been reading the data you have sent me on the way. I am sorry that I missed the ceremony. Even for a failure it sounds to have been a spectacle.'
'You should have seen it,' Kiyotsugu said.
'You said you wanted to talk about the affairs in Belgistan?' Kazukiyo said.
'Yes. I suspect you are not terribly well informed about the last forty-eight hours?'
'Yushiro's data has been keeping me busy. I haven't paid attention to news,' Kiyotsugu said. 'What happened?'
Kiyoharu took a seat. 'Let me go over it quickly. You know that America gave Colonel Stilbanov of Belgistan an ultimatum to comply with inspection for the alleged experimentation of a weapon of mass destruction, whose exact nature has yet to be specified. That was on Wednesday. Stilbanov of course ignored the ultimatum. The military retaliation launched as promised on Friday morning, with an air raid against Belgistan's radar installations. The raid was carried out mostly by German bombers. Now the Americans secured NATO's compliance by promising that direct land assault would primarily be the task of the United States.'
'Yes, and I believe the Americans went in last night?' Daizaburo said.
'They did. The first assault columns encountered resistance in the desert about four hours ago. They suffered massive loss and were forced to retreat. The news is not yet public, but very soon it will be.'
'Is that right?' Kazukiyo said, showing interest for the first time. 'What did the Belgistan forces have to repel the Americans?'
'That is what I wanted to talk about.' Kiyoharu handed a disc to Kiyotsugu, who inserted it into his computer. 'This is a footage taken from an attack helicopter, which was escorting the tank column when it entered a small town.'
'What is this?' asked Kazukiyo as a white line streaked across the blurry screen, striking a vehicle at the head of the column. Another streak soon followed, and the next tank was in scraps.
'High velocity guided missiles, made specifically to pierce armor,' Kiyoharu replied. 'It took only a hit to disable each vehicle completely.'
'Since when did Stilbanov have weapons like this?'
'The missiles are intriguing, but I am more interested in the way they were deployed. The missiles hit the column the moment they were inside the town. They came from rooftops at close range, and the points of origin shifted from building to building to check the tanks' movements, as though they were being fired by infantrymen—which is ludicrous when you consider the size of these things. These aren't some handheld grenade launchers, you know. Ah, see there,' he said, pointing to the screen as it went black. 'At this point the helicopter was shot down.'
The men were quiet for a minute. 'And what do you gather from this, Kiyoharu?' Daizaburo said.
'I think his point is pretty clear,' Kiyotsugu replied in his brother's stead. 'We know of only one weapon suited to this type of offensive.'
'What is Yushiro's condition now?' Kazukiyo asked Kiyotsugu.
'Physiologically he is almost completely back to normal. He can't dance yet—but I think he can handle an armor just fine.'
* * * *
Misuzu's patience was running thin. In two days she had not seen Yushiro's face though he was all along under the same roof. He was her favorite, for the rest of the Gowa brothers were more than a decade her senior and might as well have been her uncles. From her youngest days she had played with Yushiro and was close with him especially. And the boy had not come out of his room for days. So after returning home from school (she attended a girls' school, unlike Yushiro who studied with tutors at home), Misuzu stood before her brother's door to pay him a visit. She had not quite announced herself when one of the house attendants interrupted her.
'Miss, I believe you have been instructed not to enter.'
And she had been. At first she thought she would head back to her room, but then she was annoyed with the attendant for having caught her when she had tried to visit in secret. 'Is there something wrong with a sister wanting to speak with her brother?' said she sternly. 'Give us a few minutes, and I'll be on my way.'
The attendant bowed and departed. 'Big brother, it's me,' said Misuzu to the door. 'You are not seeing anyone, I know, but there is something I must ask you. Please allow me to enter.'
Yushiro's room was spacious but sparsely furnished, as is the convention in patrician households. An untouched table of meal lay pushed to a corner, and the occupant of the room was leaning against a post looking upon the inner court. For in Japan and elsewhere in Asia traditional mansions often have doors and hallways on both sides of rooms.
'Brother, what is happening? Why are Father and the other brothers doing this?' Misuzu asked, sounding more frustrated than she had meant to let on. 'What happened on the stage, the other day? Mother made me stay with her in the dressing room, so I could not see anything. And yet—and yet, I felt something unusual was happening. I felt it. But no one will tell me anything. Not Mother, not Master Sorachi. And Kazukiyo tells me I should not come here.'
Yushiro made no reply but continued to fix his gaze on the pond outside. She grew angry, though not with her brother.
'I can't stand this. Why is everyone treating you this way? Since when did they start acting so indifferent to you? No, indifferent is not the word. They are interested in you—very much. But I can't believe that they care about you. But why? Why do you alone get sent to work with the defense force and made to dance Noh under watch? Why can't I recall anyone saying kind words to you, when you finally came back home?'
'We were,' Yushiro started abruptly, speaking more to himself, looking at the hand that had wrestled with the girl in the vision. 'We were calling out to something—to come. I wonder what it was.' He flinched and staggered, as though stabbed. He saw her again, crying out to him.
'Don't bring back the terror.'
Her face was so vivid that it did not seem a mere memory. Her eyes were dark and clear as a moonlit night sky, and wide with urgency. A spell of acute dizziness came upon him then, and in the haze of pain he fancied he saw an image altogether novel yet: the same young woman, still and naked, suspended and enfolded amidst clinging bands of white like a moth caught in a web. In alarm Misuzu ran to his side as he struggled to remain on his feet.
'What is it, elder brother? Is it something to do what has been happening? Please, you mustn't keep it all to yourself!'
'What are you doing here, Misuzu?' asked Madam Gowa from the doorway. 'You were told not to come here.'
'I was only—'
'Yushiro hasn't been very well. Come now; do not bother him.'
Misuzu obeyed her mother. And there ended the brief interview which left the girl in greater distress than before.
* * * *
With the armor we opened the stave, and with it we now close. That evening Kiyoharu came to the Gowa mansion, and early in the following morning Yushiro accompanied him by air to an army training facility in the far periphery. There before an audience of distinguished members of the military he participated in the demonstration of the tactical armor, where he and the other pilots proved its agility and combat capacity superior to those of tanks in a mock battle. The observers' delight turned to worry when Kiyoharu, after the demonstration, informed them of the likelihood that Belgistan army also was outfitted with weapons of like capabilities. For Japan had already been committed to sending a substantial ground force to Belgistan as a part of the multinational endeavor at the request of the United States. What should happen if her troops were humiliated as the Americans had been?
The observers came to the conclusion that since the tactical armor was clearly ready for use it had better be put to use immediately. Thus it was decided that the experimental company would be dispatched to the Middle East. The Gowa conglomerate lost no time in giving the decision its endorsement, and a promise of full cooperation.
-End of Stave II-