Akira.

            Mr. Hattori had placed a name with an illogical vision.  I clasped it, as though mental incantation alone could make an intangible dream fragment real.

            There were no birth records of the boy to be found.  His sole medical proof of existence was a record of a girl some fifteen to seventeen years of age bringing a toddler named Akira to a free clinic.  This, Mr. Hattori had reported to me mid-afternoon, three days after I had disentangled myself from the clinging desires of my advisor.

            "What was his last name?  Helbert?"  I had nearly leapt at the prospect of any new information.

            Mr. Hattori seemed uncomfortable with the way I was settling my hopes into one dim lead.  "Sakamoto," he divulged reluctantly.  "But that doesn't make him your brother," he quickly retorted to the broadening smile on my face

            Akira.  A beautiful, albeit common name.  Too beautiful, I surmised, for Gill to have chosen.  My mother must have named him.

            It was two days later that Mr. Hattori uncovered a new lead.  From one of his contacts, he learned that an "Akira Sakamoto" had been recently added to the list of orphaned survivors from the attack on the city.  Etsuko had left to pick up Masaru from school, and Mr. Hattori thought it best that we not wait for her.  Instead, he asked me to accompany him.

            The office which held Akira's documents was outside of the city limits.  It was too far to even make out a smoggy silhouette of the remaining skyline.  Upon arrival, Ms. Nagura, a harried woman of about thirty-five, greeted us, and led us to an austere, clinical white room.

            She pulled out a pair of rickety folding chairs for us to sit in, and began a lengthy, and flustered, explanation of why the boy was no longer in the custody of the state.

            As she spoke, the barefaced walls behind her gleamed menacingly at me.  In return, I searched the blank canvas for some visual stop in the void.

            The couple who had brought him in, apparently, had returned four days ago under the guise of a visit.  They led him out of the premises of the foster care, and have been reported missing.

            "The last name of the couple and their daughter is 'Hashimoto,'" Ms. Nagura disclosed with a grimace, "though I'm not sure if that would help either one of you.  Their house was searched, and it appears as though they left most of their belongings behind.  They may have simply fled the country, and decided to live under an assumed name.  It would be an easy time to do something of that nature.  Customs can't handle the influx of departures we've been having, and it would unfortunately be very simple to pass a small child through without anyone noticing."

            With great difficulty, she made eye contact with me, "It's odd, but I didn't get the impression that they intended to harm him.  It's as if they wanted to establish a new life with this child-without waiting for authorization to do so.  They were on the list for possible foster homes for Akira.  They even expressed a desire to adopt him."

            My refraining from comment the entire time must have emboldened her, because she went on, "None of us here had any idea that he might have immediate blood relatives living.  He looked like he had been wandering the streets for weeks before the city was attacked.  I'm not a physician, but I've seen some rather severe cases of neglect myself.  Akira wasn't someone I'd be worried about physically, but he was undernourished.  I thought you should know."  My eyes widened, although from my dreams, I had already surmised he'd been mistreated by someone.

            "If there were any indications that a sister..."  She couldn't finish her sentence. 

            "I don't know that Akira is my brother," I assuaged her, "I want him to be, though.  If a DNA test could be arranged, I'm sure that would confirm it, one way or the other."  Mrs. Nagura shook her head.

            "I'm afraid that's just not possible.  The blood samples that were taken from Akira while he was here have already been disposed of."  She winced; an attempt at empathy in her own blunder. 

            She pulled open a drawer of the desk and located a file thick with paperwork.  She then passed the file to me.

            In red ink, the file read "Akira Sakamoto."  "Am I supposed to be looking at this?"

            "Probably not."  She bravely offered Mr. Hattori a lopsided smile.  "Not all of the recent orphans have been evaluated yet, but Akira's case warranted immediate attention. Take it home with you; there's a lot to read."

            "Thank you," I replied, a little taken aback.

            I opened the file.  Affixed to the papers with a clip was a polaroid photograph of a small boy.  His dark hair was still baby-fine, and impossibly straight.  He didn't have the rebellious glee that preschool children carry in themselves.  Instead, his look harkened the sobriety of a Victorian family portrait.  His eyes were enormous, and imploring.  The lucidity of my dream had dulled in the past few days, but I was still certain enough that this boy did resemble the figure who had intervened.

            Mr. Hattori leaned over from his seat to look at the photo on my lap.  "I'll be damned," He whispered loudly to me.  My brow furrowed quizically.  "I've seen him before.  It's the same kid."

            "What?  Where-where did you see him?"

            Ms. Nagura rose from her desk quickly.  "If you don't have any further questions, I need to get back to the children.  I apologize for cutting this meeting brief."

            Mr. Hattori held his hand up in protest.  His face bore a flinty resolve I did not recognize.   "I do have some more questions," he growled.  "If you're uncomfortable answering them in front of her-" he gestured to me- "then we can talk outside in the hallway, let her read over the file.  Alone.  But to just lose someone," he spat, "is unacceptable."

            Mr. Hattori managed to make her flush like a schoolgirl.  Rebuked, she nodded, "Of course.  I apologize."

            Even as I was surprised by his approach, I reminded myself, Don't question his methodology.

            Still wary, Mr. Hattori got up in a huff and escorted Ms. Nagura outside, leaving me to my white, windowless cell.

            The first section of Akira's file was a psychological profile.  From its precision, I gathered that the foster home had begun some initial testing, though one suggested diagnosis would contradict the next.  " Autism."  In bold font at the bottom of the page, it was what my eyes naturally fell to.  "Elect mute," was the prognosis on the next page.  Yet another suggested, "undiagnosed social disorder."  All of the psychologists described plausible conditions which could have influenced his abnormalities.  As I read, I tried to envision my own reasons for his hindrances; Akira shut away from daylight and human contact, reaching out for warmth and finding a sneering despot for a father.

            As lurid as it was, his story titillated me.  I began to read ravenously.

            What are you doing?

            I abruptly snatched his photograph and shut the file, repulsed at my base imaginings.

            He's real.  He has a name...He has dreams and fears just as you do.

            He is not a sideshow carnival attraction.

            I snuck a glance at the photo I was clutching.  It hadn't been altered, his eyes were as beseeching as before.  That, at least, was not an elaboration of my mind.

            What did he do to you?

            If I had known about you, I would have protected you from him.

            The room was too empty.  I tucked the file under my arm and left, before the white swallowed me whole.

            Two days later. 

            Etsuko pulled Mr. Hattori's car into an open spot next to a park.  Before unfastening her seat belt, she checked her eyes in the overhead mirror.  "Allergy season is coming, just wait a month or so.  Joy."  She removed her glasses in an attempt to better inspect the invitational chestnut pair she was graced with.  She squinted.  She decided she saw better with her glasses on, regardless of the fact that she was nearsighted.  Satisfied without being entirely pleased, she finally swung her door open, and waited for me to do the same.

            She smiled at me, "We're early.  Do you feel like going into the park before you meet up with him?"  She started wandering towards the direction of a cluster of maples and pines.

            "Yeah."  I hurried to join her, as she had slipped off through the trees, without bothering to check behind her.

We began an ascent up a hill when Etsuko suddenly halted in her tracks.  She pointed to the horizon, "Look, Mitsuko."  Her eyes were clear, her emotions at the sight seemed to be resolved.  "There it is.  Do you see it?"

Through the murky film of smog was the remaining skyline of the city.  The west end was the portion that had been decimated.  Instead of a natural descent of height, the intact skyscrapers jutted towards a chasm, like a precipice from which one could plummet.  Reverend Fuuten resided closer to the city than Etsuko or I had realized.

Wordlessly, I sank to my knees.  Etsuko gave me no reaction as I bowed my head and did something I hadn't done since I was a child: I prayed.  After a moment, I stood, and we both walked through the park in silence.

The natural world felt like it was still sleeping.  Soft green was eking out against the skeletal frames of the stately trees and imposing shrubbery, but the robust entrance of spring had not begun.

Etsuko located a bench, and asked me to join her.  I was excluding her from my thoughts, and her patience at it had finally begun to wane.  Predictable in her curiosity, she said, "May I ask you something?"

I nodded.

"I was wondering-well, I'd wondered for a while now, when did you first fall in love with Jiro?  I mean, when did you know it was him?"  Intent on getting an answer, she cupped her chin with her hand, and looked at me wistfully.

She managed to make me smile.  "Oh, that…Well, I think I was in denial about it for a long time.  But something happened once when we were chasing Jiro, and I thought about him differently ever since."

Etsuko's pinky had inadvertently slipped into her mouth.  She had begun chewing on her nail without noticing.

"It was the first time I heard him play his guitar-"

"It was because of the way he played!" sighed Etsuko.

"That, too.  But I had followed the sound until I found him, and something happened when he finally noticed me standing there.

"He slipped up.  He just missed the notes, and the guitar sounded awful.  I mean, a robot wouldn't do that.  A machine that sophisticated wouldn't make a mistake just because of an insignificant external influence."  My words were coming faster, relieved I could recount the past with someone.

"I began to wonder why he did that.  He was staring at me, looking so vulnerable.  It made me feel important in a way, powerful.  No one else had ever noticed me, so why should he?"  I shrugged, "Boys never asked me out, and my father barely spoke to me.  My mother left just before I began puberty. 

"I wondered why he cared so much."

"You know why."  Etsuko narrowed her eyes.

"I do now."

"That's kind of funny," Etsuko remarked wryly, "Hanpei did something like that once.  It was the one time I wore dress in front of him, and he stared at me while we were walking through town instead of watching where he was going.  He wound up slamming into pole."

            Having left Etsuko at the park, I approached a modest house on the end of the street.  It was low, as if it were crouching before me.  The roof was thatched, and every facet of it held the same weathered brown coloring, from the door to the walls.

            I knocked upon the door, and smoothed my skirt and my hair, unsure of what he expected of me, and I assumed vice versa.  As I checked my pea coat for spots, the door opened partially.  From the other side of the threshold, an eye crinkled with pleasure.  The door pushed away, and the old man came into full view.

            "Miss Komyouji," he beamed, as though we were long-standing acquaintances.  "Please, come in."

            The décor of Reverend Fuuten's home was of the same cool wood, with tender green curled around the edges.  In his kitchen, I counted three mahogany statues.  It felt serene, balanced, and altogether inviting, the latter quality my own home sorely lacked.  I forgot all about the activities I was engaged in before I arrived.  I became only aware of a sensation of belonging exuding from the very grain of the wood.

            I was so taken, it was a full minute later that I noticed that I had excluded giving Reverend Fuuten the same scrutiny I had to the buttresses.  From his dark garments, capable, full arms hid themselves and reappeared as he puttered; like a trick of a magician.  His skin was an even, dark tone. 

With spry motions, he pulled out a chair for me to sit in.  Before I complied with his request, I bowed in deferment.  Lithely, he returned my gesture.

"I know what you're thinking," he confided as he sat across from me in a rectangular table, looking amused.  "I'm your father's elder by ten years."  He cocked his brow at me, "Want to know my secret to staying young?"

I nodded.

"Antioxidants."  He seemed enormously pleased with himself.  "I consume two cups of green tea a day, without fail.  That's my medicine."

He was right about what I'd been pondering.

His joviality began to diminish as he leaned closer towards me.  "Miss Komyouji.  You and I share a secret or two.  I think that gives us special allowances when we talk to one another.  May I be blunt with you?"

"Please do," I urged.

"I have not called you here for altruistic reasons.  I was thinking of myself, and how I could best decipher the evidence I've gathered.  You are the only one who can assist me with that."

A little overwhelmed, I began, "Reverend, I'm very flattered by your opinion of my capabilities, but my father was who you tutored.  He's the expert in robotics, he built Jiro, not me.  Why have you excluded him?"

"Miss Komyouji," Reverend Fuuten folded his hands on top of the table, "are you in college?"

"I'm on a sabbatical."

He nodded, "Do you have a major?"

"Yes," I replied patiently.  "Biology."

"And a minor?"

"World Literature."

"You see," he opened his palms, as though I had provided ample reasoning for him to invite me.  "You and I are rather alike.  My major was Philosophy, and later I became a monk.  But we can't hide our true nature. We study aspects of life itself, for inklings into its meaning and purpose, but it's these machines we devote so much of ourselves to.  And we know them for what they actually are.

"Your father was proud, rash…Please forgive me for speaking about him this way to you… I was disturbed with his involvement with Professor Gill, who seemed to aide his perpetual obsession with completing a perfect-and very human-android…He had fallen out of my good graces.  The details of our breech in friendship make us both seem petty and stubborn, two fairly accurate descriptions of us on any given day."  He laughed bitterly, "You'll understand if I don't feel like delving into the circumstances of it."  A closed laptop computer sat next to him on the table.  He slid it between us.  "The last time I received written contact from you father was twenty years ago, in the form of a birth announcement."

 "Mine."

"Yes, yours.  Then, about five years ago, I received a phone call from him, which was entirely unexpected.  I can still remember how distressed he sounded.  He said, 'I know you never approved of my ambitions, but I'm in trouble now, Sensei.  If I gave you two of my creations to hide, would you look after them?'  That's exactly what he told me.  And, of course, I agreed.  A month later, a pair of crates from a sporting goods store were delivered to my door.  Inside them were Ichiro and Rei.  There was no correspondence attached, but some computer disks outlining their components.  I haven't heard from him since."

"What did you say their names were?"  I seared at the mention of a familiar name.  "Ichiro…?  Did he think he could just replace…?"

"Ichiro, I believe, was constructed as a memorial of your late brother, not as an attempt to replace him."

"I have another brother, too, Reverend.  His name is Masaru."  My fury of self-righteousness dissipated under The Reverend's sagacious concern.  "He's almost ten."

"I know.  Jiro told me as much."   He could see the barrage of eager questions lighting up my face, and he cut me off as I opened my mouth.  "He was the one who found me.  Ichiro, when he became activated, operated like a beacon for Jiro.

"I was concerned, as Ichiro was programmed to awake when your father was in danger.  I mentioned this to Jiro, and while he did seem very upset, he refused to explain what happened.  He was very protective of your family's honor, even with me."  His face hardened, "What did happen, Mitsuko?"

Put on the spot, I flummoxed for an answer that didn't seem absurd, "My father-he-his mind-was taken from his body."  I could make out my reflection in Reverend Fuuten's tabletop.  "His brain was stored in another android, I don't know how it's possible."

The Reverend closed his eyes. "I've known about Dark's capabilities to safeguard human organs for years.  I am sorry, Miss Komyouji."  His adam's apple bobbled in his throat.  He took a deep breath, and his eyes slowly opened again.   "I've kept an ear to the ground and my possessions on my back for so long, settling here seems like an alien practice."  As if to reassure me, he added, "But at least I now I can stop running, it's over.

"I did inspect Jiro, once, several months ago.  I had a CAD file your father sent to me of his possible design, so I knew what to expect.  However, I did note something unusual about his left arm."  I raised my head.  "From the scuffs on it, it looked like it had been repaired.  But the design was improved!" Fuuten marveled.  "He showed greater flexibility, coordination, and the movements of it were much more natural than that of his right."  He arched an eyebrow at me, "Your father was incapacitated, so I assume it was you who repaired that broken limb."

"That's correct," I responded meekly.

"Your father has suffered enough, and if you're honestly begin to think it, you'll agree.  I wanted someone untainted by Gill's corruption to help me.  I've chosen the right person."

I wrenched at all of his praise, I was so unaccustomed to it, "All right, Reverend.  I'll do what I can."

"I'll tell you what I know first, then we can tend to my problem."  He left his seat at the table, walked over to a nearby cabinet.  "No doubt you've been searching for Jiro.  I'm afraid there's not much information I can provide you with.  I saw him a few times so he could meet and be aided by his brothers, Ichiro and Rei.  He never tells me where he goes."

My heart sank.  There has to be another way to find him, don't worry, I firmly reminded myself before I fell into melancholy.

"Whatever else you would like to know, please ask me."

"Yes," I told him quickly, "you knew a little boy named Akira.  Where is he?"

He blinked, not seeming to have anticipated my question, "What is your interest in the boy?"

"My late mother had an affair with Professor Gill…I think he may be my brother."

Lines around his forehead formed in gentle concern.  "Yuri and Alejandro Hashimoto stole him from you.  Those are their real names, but I doubt they've kept them."

I stared at him, incredulous.  "How is it you know this?"

"I was fond of their daughter, Rieko M."  From his untroubled expression, I could tell that he held no indictment towards the daughter.  I expected to begin a crabwise dance with him on the subject, when he continued plainly, "She was a lonely thing, she didn't have friends…Her father's business sent them to many different countries for several months to a year at a time.   They kept to themselves, but she…she was different.  Took to calling me 'Grandfather.'  Always bright and inquisitive. 

"We were both in the city during the period of The Incident, when the it was under siege.  We were at a safe distance the entire time, but after the machine exploded, I had to walk towards it, to survey what had happened.  We uncovered a lot that day." 

I envisioned the footage on the news, and everything that Etsuko had described to me.  Then I tried to think of pulling a child through it, to the epicenter.

"I found charred circuitry after I sifted through some of the rubble."  There was something falsely casual to the way his picked up one of his statues to wipe off dust.  "I know it was Ichiro's and Rei's.  They didn't emerge from the wreckage."  

"Then they're-"

"Gone."

"Oh."  My voice sounded flat to my ears.  Finding no words to comfort him with, I suddenly wished to strike myself for seeming so insensitive.  "Reverend, I'm so sorry."

He looked at me very tenderly.  "They perished to defend millions of people.  Don't you think that is the most honorable way to die?"

"Then you miss them, and you're proud of them."  I further dared to think aloud, "My Jiro didn't face our enemy alone."  Reverend Fuuten's eyes shone with unfallen tears as his smile threatened to consume his face.

He cleared his throat before divulging, "There was more.  I saw the beast.  That creature who used to be Gill.  I know about that procedure that your father became a victim of, because I saw that Gill had done it to himself."

"You're mistaken," I cut in, more quickly than I had intended to.  "If you're saying that Gill died during The Incident, then that's not true.  He died nine months ago.  I saw his headquarters explode with my own eyes.  No human being could have survived that."

"That's right, Miss Komyouji.  No human could have lived through something like that.  But he chose to place his mind in an android shell, and live that way.  Your father's androids are noble, they strive to become living things, and they're designed to long for humanity.  But Gill did the opposite; he eradicated all traces of his humanity.  He was neither man nor machine, but a self-made beast."

"What did you see?"

"His android torso, his head unit cracked open, and traces of brain matter." 

I grimaced as I tasted bile in the back of my throat.  Why, I silently wondered, is this sense of foreboding stalking me?

"If you don't believe me," Revered Fuuten frowned harshly, "I have It somewhere, I took what was left of Gill because I didn't trust the government with learning about It.  Him.  Do you want to see It for yourself?"
            "No!"  I chocked, horrified.  I had never met Gill, so he has remained something of phantom figure skulking in the dark of my mind.  I wasn't ready to confront whatever he turned out to be.  "Reverend," I insisted, "You should bury what you have found.  He may be a monster, but," I took a breath, "he deserves to be buried.  And I don't think you should hide the truth from anyone."

"The people who have been determined to conceal everything they've found are the authorities.  Why, do you think, the media is calling what happened two weeks ago The Incident?"

His point was limpid.  "To minimize the severity of what happened.  It's the ultimate euphemism."

He abruptly tapped his fingertips against his temple. "I'm sorry.  You wanted to know about Akira, didn't you?  This isn't helping."  Wanting to forgo an argument, he shook his head.  "Rieko M. was very taken with him.  When her parents took him to the foster care, she cried all the way back to her house.  Her parents approached me later that evening about how we had found him.  They said wanted to adopt him, so Rieko M. could have a playmate, so I felt it was my responsibility to tell them about Gill.  Out of all of the areas they could have been upset by, they seemed the most concerned with another blood relative, or a member of Gill's organization finding him again to cause him harm.  I told them there was no one else."  Reverend Fuuten stopped looking at me.  "They must not have believed me, because a few days later, Akira and the Hashimotos both went missing.  So," He walked over to my chair and motioned me to stand up, "If you want to blame someone for his disappearance, blame me.  Don't stay and help me."  I found him alarmed when I began to smile at him.

"You gave Akira a place where he will be safe and loved.  Thank you."  He took my warmth in stride.  "Was is it you need my help with?"

My eyes hungrily tore through the CAD program Reverend Fuuten had running on his laptop.  Wires, circuits, and chips were all flawlessly interacting with one another like the systems of a living organism.

"Tell me what you see," Fuuten challenged.

I was almost too giddy to reply.  "This android doesn't have a Gemini, but do you see this component here?"  I touched the screen, "That's a vital part of The Conscience Circuit.  So is this," I pointed to a separate place of the diagram.  "There's smaller parts of Gemini all over her body.  This person- Mieko, you said?  She has the ability to simulate emotions.  She can't automatically decipher between right and wrong, but she can learn to.  Over time, she'd adapt to external influences, like a human."  My heart was thudding loudly with delight.  "Were Ichiro and Rei designed similarly?"

Reverend rubbed his chin, deep in though, "Actually, they were."  As I scrolled through the blueprints he muttered, "I never inspected Jiro's Conscience Circuit, so I didn't know what to look for."

Though he was leaning over my shoulder, I was just barely aware he had spoken.  "To process stimuli, to have an awareness of environment, that's an integral part of what my father designed.  The androids can designate meaning to what they see."  I finally paused my conversation with the monitor to look at Reverend Fuuten.  "That's what he had the most difficulty with; what to allow them to categorize themselves, and what to dictate as part of their programming.

"I think Gill hated The Gemini, he saw it as a threat, but eventually he must have conceded that it made Jiro a better fighter.  You know, you protect what you've emotionally invested in."  I clicked furiously.

"Yes."

"Gill couldn't give Mieko so much free will, so he may have been selective in what he gave her…Though," I added breathlessly, "I doubt he knew what the end result would be.  I don't think he ever understood my father's androids."

Reverend Fuuten let me peruse the program for a few more minutes, disinclined to pry a source of ample intrigue from my grasp.  "Skip ahead," were his eventual instructions.

Complying, I opened the next file of the disk.  The screen flashed briefly, and I saw a circuit of slipshod design.  My reaction to it was immediate; there was nothing to indicate it was the design of my father's.  Everything my father created had a seamless cohesion, it was almost elegant.  Reading blueprints of his, the wires and metal alloys would transform for me into the notes of sheet music. 

If father's androids were musical by default, this circuit was discordant.  Judging by its seeming rushed and jumbled construction, it would work, but it might scramble or interfere with other body processes.  "I'm not familiar with this technology," I confessed to The Reverend.  "It looks like it was made after Jiro was completed.  It's newer, but it's poorly constructed.  What is it, exactly?"

"That's what I need you to help me with.  I found it inside of the Bijinder android, and I can't remove it.  It's been webbed around her most vital functions."  His voice was crisp with tension.

"But her name is 'Mieko,' not 'female android' or 'Bijinder.'  You said so yourself."
            "She won't respond to that name anymore.  In fact, she's nothing at all like Mieko.  She's displaying personality traits of her deceased sister, Rieko, when she speaks as Mieko.  And sometimes she recounts Reiko's memories through the perspective of Mieko."

"What purpose would someone have to get her to behave like that?"  I could see no gain in causing her confusion.  If she was a threat to Gill, why didn't he simply shut her down?  I questioned myself silently.  Or kill her, for that matter?

"I don't know…But what worries me the most is her hostility.  She's been unpredictable."  He returned to his seat, deep in thought.

"I think the best way for me to analyze this chip is to see the effect it's had upon her.  Please, take me to her, Reverend."

"I can't allow that in good conscience.  In between her incoherent babbling, she spouts a lot of half-truths." 

I placed my hands on my lap before The Reverend could reach over and cover them soothingly with his own.  I didn't want him to think I was weak.

"She may be mentally incapacitated, but she is still capable of manipulation," he warned me.

"But wouldn't you rather know, Reverend Fuuten?  She's the only living person who was there with Jiro during The Incident."  Despite my imploring him, he became reticent, much like my father would have.  Desperate, I realized how brutally honest I would have to be for him to comply.

"Even if she sends me down a thousand empty avenues, it's worth it if I find one element of truth.  And I'd go through a lot more if it meant I could see Jiro again."  I searched his face, wondering if he understood my admission. 

He nodded, a bit deflated.  "She's down the hall, on the second door to the left."

The room which Bijinder occupied was different than the rest of the house.  The door featured a rectangular window so that the casual observer could see the entirety of it.  An oddly fey and charming melody wafted from the entrance.  Pulling the door closed behind me, I found Bijinder sitting on the dusty floor. 

Her appearance startled me so much that I actually jerked back.  Auburn sheeted wires were wound tightly around her head, like a crown of braids.  Her tin lips were dyed bubblegum pink.  The rest of her face was colored clownishly with florid cheeks and aqua semicircles above her eye socket.   I saw that the garish cups on her chest were guns.  There was little else in the way of clothing to depict feminine modesty.  According to Gill's whim, he had modeled her shell as he viewed every woman to be: a disposable thing to be used primarily for sexual purposes. 

She sat on the hardwood floor with her legs curled under her, resembling some deposed Amazonian Princess.  Her two green orbs for eyes did not acknowledge me.  Her arms crossed an "X," as though she was clutching something dear to her.  Humming a tune unfamiliar to me, her body rocked slightly.  She slowly unfolded her arms, and I saw that they were empty.  Still, she lowered herself to gently place an unseen object next to her on the floor.

"Mieko."  She was still gazing at the spot on floor, and appeared not to hear me.  I tried again, "Bijinder."

Her head snapped forward, eyes glowing with hostility.  She stared at me, both frightened and defensive, like a lioness sensing a hunter approaching.  Her mature voice betraying uncertainty, she asked, "Who are you?"

"My name is Mitsuko Komyouji."

"Ah."  The lights in her eyes dimmed.  She sat up straighter, with a casual confidence, as if nothing were out of place in her previous actions.  "Yes, the Komyouji brat."  Her thin metal lips pulled back in amusement.  "So tell me, why am I so honored to be visited by an infamous Komyouji?"  Her frame erect, I saw it in the light: there was a gash high above her where her right hip met her thigh.  About the size of an orange, I could see in enough to note a cluster flashing wires that were exposed.

"Bijinder, what happened to you?"

"Keep your voice down!" she snapped.  "He's been fussy all day long; I just put him down a minute ago."

"Who?"

"Are all human girls this stupid?  How many other children do you see here?  Akira."

Oh…

She looked back at the imagined child.  Apparently satisfied that he was undisturbed, she resumed facing me.

"Bijinder.  I'm here because I need to find someone.  Tell me where Jiro is."

"So now she breezes in, after we toiled, after our family was torn apart, and she expects me to help her?"  She was ripe with sardonic denunciation.  "What a brazen little thing you are."  Her jade eyes flickered.  She glanced down at her arm and drew it back as though someone had been pulling on it.  Her voice automatically shifted to one which was much younger, I assume it was Rieko's, "I know you're tired.  But we have to keep moving.  Don't worry, we'll be at my grandmother's soon," she soothed sweetly.

Unaffected by this strange alteration, I continued,  "He put that thing in you, didn't he?  Gill."

She regarded me with an air of curiosity.  Both voices within her spoke simultaneously, "Lord Gill, The Alpha and The Omega."

That managed to make me break out in goosebumps.  Nevertheless, I ignored it and plowed forward with my queries.  "Does it have a name?"

"Submission circuit…in him, we shall be glorified…he'll always remain with us.  And you, would you try to come between him and his will?"  She noted my hesitation in responding and began to laugh in Mieko's voice, "It doesn't matter.  You can't stop him.  If you resist, then you'll be decimated."

"Where is Jiro?"

"Has Daddy not built you another plaything yet?  Why don't you go home and ask him; after all, Jiro's just another machine to you."

"That's not true."

"If you really cared about him, you would have stayed instead of taking off like a thief in the night when he needed you."

Need.  Bijinder had said "need."  Then it was possible that time had not diminished his affections for me. 

Once, a long time ago, I basked in his love.  I grew strong in it.

"You're making assumptions, when you don't know anything about the circumstances that have kept us apart."

"Do you want me to tell you what I know?" she accused hoarsely, "I was there the day that Fuuten came back from searching your place and told him that the house was completely abandoned.  You should have seen the look on his face!" she giggled mockingly.  "He just kept staring at the cover of that book Fuuten gave him.  You should be grateful, Komyouji."  Her laughter had begun to die down.  "Grateful that he was too naïve to realize who you really are."

"What is that supposed to mean?"  I knew she was baiting me, and I spoke slowly to control my temper.

"The little brat went off with Daddy to a better life, and forgot all her troubles.  She left a toy behind, and now she's back to pick it up."

"You have no idea what I had to sacrifice.  I left everything I had ever known to visit a strange land and put all my dreams aside so my father could get better."

"What about Jiro?  Jiro sacrificed everything.   You still have your family, what does he have left?"

"Me," I sighed.  "He has me, if he still wants me."

"Are you under some illusion that you could fall in love with an android, Komyouji?  Or do you miss him because you thought of him as some sophisticated vibra-"

"That's enough!"  She'd finally managed to make me lose my composure. 

Delighted, she pulled her gaudy lips back in a terrible, gleaming smile.  She knew she had found a way to take control over me.  "You had your chance.  Let me keep him for myself.  You have no right to come back and claim him, because there's no way you could possibly understand what he's been through.  I was there for him while you were gone."

"That's really what you think, then."

She looked over my shoulder, livid, "If I'm a spy, then you're a mongrel!"  Instinctively, I turned my head around.  Nothing was behind me, she'd been yelling at a wall.

"Jiro and Akira are mine.  I'm keeping what family I have left without your interference.  Get it through your thick head, I'm not going to do a damned thing for you."

Instead of reacting in anger, I slowly drew nearer to her.  "Do whatever you want.  But you're bitter and afraid, I can see it.  I'll find him without you."  I was standing over her by this point.  "People should be able to recall the reasons they're alive.  He does that for me.  You're a part of Jiro's life, so that makes us connected.  I hope you find some peace."  I turned to leave.  "Goodbye, Bijinder."  I felt a firm metal grasp on my wrist, detaining me.

"Mitsuko!"  There was a note of urgency to way she called me.  I made no motion to free myself, but decided to listen to this new facet of her personality.  "Do you know who I am?"

"You're Mieko, aren't you? "

"Do you think I take pleasure in causing other people grief?  I hate this," she moaned.  Perhaps she was incapable of crying at her stage of development.  "There's always voices, no matter what I do.  I've locked Rieko out of my innermost thoughts."  She looked off, oddly bewildered.  "She's banging her fists on the walls I've put up between us.  It's so …just so loud!"

"Don't listen to it!  Mieko, I need you to stay focused.  Just keep looking here at me, and you'll be all right.  Understand?"

This seemed to placate her.  "You and I are different," she mused as she gazed at me.  "I was created for a singular purpose, to follow orders by protecting Akira.  And I couldn't even do that.  I couldn't keep him with me…Mitsuko?"

"What?"  Seeing her like this was painful enough, and I didn't want to know what she was going to tell me.

"I know he's not really here.  Someone took him from me.  He's just a figment of my mind because I'm malfunctioning, isn't he?"

"Do you see him now?"

She shook her head, "Not now, but I will."

"Mieko…" I knelt on grimy floorboards next to her, sullying my legs and skirt.

"An android who can't function properly and who does not fulfill her orders is worthless."  She loosened her grip on me.  "If you have any sense of compassion, you'll tell Fuuten to destroy me."

"I'm not going to give up on you.  You will not be abandoned."

She yanked her hand away, some of her initial disgust towards me returning.  "You're a fool!" she hissed.

"Mieko," I wondered aloud, "I know I can't replace the family you've lost, but you could have another family."

I was so close to her I could hear the soft whirring of gears.  Her artificial respiration system sucked in an enormous breath.  "Hm-?" 

"I could let you be a part of my family, if you wanted it- but it's up to you.  I'm giving you a choice."

Her warm jade eyes flickered like a swarm of fireflies.  She wasn't looking at me anymore.  "A family…Akira."

"Mieko?  Mieko, stay with me."  I took her by the shoulders and forced her to face me.  I was too late.  She was smiling tenderly at some unseen person; she no longer noticed me.

"Akira, it's all right.  Don't feel sad."  She was nearly purring the words as she opened her arms.  "I'm going to tell you a story…Yes, the story of Pinocchio."

Not now, not now!  I mentally screamed.  Not after you came back.

I felt my hands clutching her shoulders with a strength that surprised me.  "Mieko, where is Jiro?!"

Bemused, she cocked her head at me.  Addressing me as though I were a small child, she replied, "Silly, they lived happily ever after."

I could hear her cooing to the Akira apparition as I walked out.  I don't recall what she was saying to him.  I think I was too overwhelmed with emotion.

"Hey, Komyouji."

I paused by the mantle, not turning around.

"There's something for you on the bookshelf.  Akira said it would be all right if you had it back."

To my left, there was indeed a small bookshelf.  The sole book it housed was my own, a foreign printed version of Pinocchio.

            Reverend Fuuten was waiting for me in the kitchen.  Apparently a not man who enjoys small talk, he delved into the matter at hand, "Did that help you reach some diagnosis?  Do you have any idea now why Bijinder has been malfunctioning?"

            "Bijinder is not malfunctioning."

            Reverend Fuuten nodded.  If he was surprised, he didn't show it.

            Mechanically, I began to explain, "The submission circuit allowed her to follow all orders-regardless of matters of conscience.  In her last act of will, she activated programming she shared with her sister, so that she would be able to carry out her primary objective: taking care of Akira.  She did it even though she knew she would have to lose her sanity in the process.  Bijinder has exceeded the expectations of her body."  I may have seemed unruffled to him, but inside, I felt restless.  I leaned against the wall rather than joining him at the table.  "I can't imagine anyone giving up so much of one's self for another person."

            "Well.  What do you think we should do?"

            "Akira is the best chance for her recovery.  But…"

            "That's impossible right now."

            There was one question that was plaguing me.  It overrode all other thoughts in my mind, so I queried, "There's something that I still don't understand.  If Dark disbanded nine months ago, then how was it possible for Professor Gill to acquire so much power and resources in such a short amount of time?"

            "Dark was a legal entity, known as The Dark Demolition Corporation.  I doubt you would have heard of them, I think your father worked as an independent contractor through them, so that there would be no ties to the organization.  The corporation of robotic parts was the façade for what those in charge wanted to accomplish.  In truth, they traded hostile android technology to developing nations in return for arms, that is, mass weaponry.  When Dark was defeated, the corporation liquidated their assets so that the covert entity known as Shadow could thrive.  Dark and Shadow are really one and the same.

            "With their profits, they built their ultimate weapon.  And they called it The Armageddon God."

            The God…Alpha and Omega…for whom all knees should bend.  It harkened back to Brogeen's prayer book.  I had leafed through it one afternoon while Father had a physical therapy session.  Why did Professor Gill choose Christian Iconography to illustrate himself as God?

I swore, and slammed my fist against the wall.  That managed to startle Reverend Fuuten.  "Then Bijinder was right.  It's my fault that the city was destroyed."

"Miss Komyouji-"

"You have to understand, Reverend, I was going to go to the authorities.  I was going to tell them everything-why didn't I?"

"Stop,-"  He was rising from his place at the table.

"She called me a thief, Reverend.  And she's right.  I stole a life of happiness with my father.  Because of that, thousands of people died."

"It's okay…"

"It's not!  Children without parents…Lovers who will never see each other again!"

"Mitsuko!"  I felt his weathered, calloused hands against my face.  "The moment of destruction two weeks ago was the vision of one man, and just one man.  He's dead.  He killed his body first, then his spirit left the shell he made for himself.  You had nothing to do with it."

I suddenly, very much, wanted to hear him say that I could call him "Grandfather."

"Jiro's Gemini kept his actions in check.  But unfostered, his development could have gone awry, like any human heart that needs nurturing.  Your father was away when Jiro was activated, is that correct?  Then it was you who brought him up.

"It was compassion that stopped Gill.  Love was the hand that held that monster back from destroying our city.  Don't you understand, child?  It happened because of you.  You didn't cause harm to the city; you saved it."

I pulled away stiffly.  "You should fix Bijinder's leg.  It's barbaric to keep it like that."

"Her leg isn't what's wrong with her, and you know it."

"Reverend, I saw her for a moment.  Mieko.  She's still in there.  You must let me see her as often as I can."

Reverend Fuuten folded his arms.  "I'm afraid I can't allow it.  You're too emotionally involved in what's been going on; it was a mistake to let you see her."

"Please, Reverend.  I have to believe that she can come back to us.  She's like Jiro…"  My voice caught, and I was unable to continue.  My vision blurred, and I sank my teeth into my lower lip to try and delay what was coming.  Despite my efforts, tears began to spill out of my eyes.

Reverend Fuuten's hands clasped mine, and I felt him lead me to the table.  He held my hand while I wept in his kitchen.

"You've been swallowing your grief for some time," he murmured, concerned.

How does he know?  I thought silently.

After a cup of his tea, he sent me home with my book and several disks that contained uploaded files of Mieko's memory.  He mentioned I might find more about Rei and Ichiro in them.  I found Etsuko in the park, and for once, she thought it best not to immediately interrogate me.

On the car ride back, I contemplated what Reverend Fuuten had told me.  For a time, I didn't struggle anymore.  I felt serene.