Yashiro could easily attract the attention of others whenever she wished, and all were enlightened by the friendly aura she exuded. She was aware, however, that the vast majority were passing faces; a hello today, a goodbye forever tomorrow. They thought that because they were laughing with her, it meant they were already her closest friends. The concept of friendship had been undervalued over the years. Anyone she addressed to ask about friends, answered with confidence that had hundreds, thousands; although the truth was that in the end, in real practice they were counted on the fingers of their hands.
When you first immersed yourself in virtual reality, you found the new world so different that when you returned to your room, the only thing you longed for was to connect again in order to get rid of the stress of living in the city, with all the social responsibilities. They soon realized that the virtual world was infinite and could be modified at will, and that those who had access could enjoy a peace and freedom that they did not find in their real city. There were no faces in that reality, no physical differences, only avatars representing different ways of thinking. Therefore, anyone could have friends. Everyone got to know each other or even fall in love. They even lost track of time and took death as a fear of the past.
But the other side of the coin was not so utopian. If people wished to live in order to return to their own paradise once more, they had to feed themselves, go to work, and support themselves economically. And the moment they disconnected they looked at their faces in the mirror—the reflected lie. Because then, and only then, did they realize that freedom was much more complex. The virtual world was still a fishbowl, and a fishbowl would never cover an ocean.
"Everyone must have tasted ambrosia at some point in their lives, you can't be an exception," Hisakawa commented blowing a bubble gum.
The girl sitting in front of her was staring at her with a crooked smile. They were the same age, but in her case, she looked much older with shaved temples and nape, and short brown hair falling out unevenly in the form of curls. She was of medium height and in her class most of her classmates were taller than her. When Yashiro studied her, she dared to wonder what the librarian would say if she discovered her sitting that way, with her feet on one of the armrests as if she were in her own home. What struck her most was that despite being forbidden, she managed to keep a pair of gum with her at all times.
She was always surrounded by other students to joke around before going to class. Yet Yashiro saw in her eyes the fear of being left alone and having to face the greatest of the invisible giants—silence. She had also heard rumors that she bullied other students by always being in a group; which revealed her incredible lack of self-esteem and emotional fragility. Despite her outgoing nature, she seemed to cower in her presence as if her offensive personality was, in fact, as sensitive as glass.
She had held several conversations with her thus discovering that as well as Ouryou Rikako, she repudiated the Sibyl System, in her case since the death of her brother; yet another victim of the psycho hazard. It was like daily rice and reminded Yashiro of her mother. Rikako was drawn to the fact that a teenager could harbor so much hate, one which was directed at the Sibyl System and all those who longed to work in the Public Safety Bureau. Yashiro, on the other hand, saw only an uncontrolled childish tantrum as a desire for revenge.
"I'm not against virtual reality, because it would be like denying technological progress, something fully absurd and pointless," Yashiro's tone was melodious, she was lost on one of the library shelves behind the girl and she blurted out the words with total sincerity. "I just think people should stop lying to themselves and accept their reality, no matter how hard it is."
She had bothered her for a brief second, but it was enough. Virtual reality addicts hated being grabbed by the tail, and even more so when it came to criticizing their glorious, perfect ambrosia. She was enjoying her expression of indignation more than she should have, and she refrained from smiling.
"It's not that easy," Izumi snapped, with a serious air that was not like her. "For some that's their only reality, because they know if they leave all they'll find is death."
Yashiro tilted her head to either side testing the waters, as if she were hearing a familiar song again, and she half-opened her eyes with a gleam of unintelligible enthusiasm.
"Each and every one of us could die, if the crime coefficient indicates so. That's the price we have to pay for welfare and social security. But what kind of progress can there be in there? What kind of progress can exist in a society whose inhabitants hide in a world that functions like George Orwell's Minutes of Hate?" she waved her hand pointing to an invisible virtual reality. "Everyone can criticize the Sibyl System in it, everyone can behave in the dirtiest hue. But the moment they return to their authentic lives the recess is over, the illusion of freedom fades away."
"I see you're not a big fan of anarchist CommuFields," sensed Hisakawa.
Yashiro furrowed her brow as her companion reclined in the seat, eyes open like two large buttons.
"I once talked to an avatar who considers herself an openly feminist, but adheres to Proudhon's thinking. When I told her that he was a detractor of feminism itself, she blocked me and never spoke to me again. I got the feeling that it was someone our age or younger," she replied, resting her head on her fist. "Nowadays, looking revolutionary is in fashion. It attracts followers and makes you feel special, superior to others."
For a long time, they remained silent, the first one immersed in a strange melancholy while the other one did not stop watching her and chewing gum slowly, as if time went by much slower for her.
"Nowadays, it's not common for teachers to teach reality as it is," Izumi thought aloud, clearing her throat to continue. "Don't you think we're in a comfortable and silent bubble, idealizing a world that doesn't exist? The ideological clash we'll have on our way out, will be so great that many will see how easily a hue can become cloudy..."
Yashiro opened her eyes gently and gave her a brief knowing smile.
"In these times, even truth can be used as a weapon. The constant fear of psycho hazard is like terrorism or Cold War in the past," Yashiro corroborated with a nod. "As Foucault would say; wherever there is power, power is exercised. We don't know who exactly has it, but we know who doesn't."
The country was at war, but a silent and invisible war, like cancer circulating in its carrier without the latter being aware of it. Society, in its eagerness to protect the mental health of each of its members, was bleeding under the pressure of internal strife. It would not surprise her if, despite technology and advanced medicine, life expectancy was in a severe recession. But that information would undoubtedly never be made public in the media—with the exception of conspiracy forums or CommuFields.
"Anyway, they could… break the fall to reality," Izumi insisted in a sullen tone, but with a hint of hope in her eyes.
"The Ousou Academy, as you know, is conservative," Yashiro pointed out, raising one hand as a gesture while the other rested on the chair. "To maintain order and reputation, it's in charge of keeping us away from any social influence that is threatening, to prevent the psycho pass from shooting up—"
"All it does is ignore the problems."
Yashiro merely shrugged her shoulders; she would not argue about the internal procedures of the academy. Although she disagreed, sometimes every system lied or hid the truth for the sake of a group of people. The Ousou Academy would isolate a murder case in order to protect the students, a company would fire an employee whose psycho pass was conflicting so as not to compromise that of others, the Sibyl System… the Sibyl System?
"The problem's that some people would rather live a sweet lie than a painful truth," Yashiro declared staring at her, directing the words completely at her, on purpose, curious as to whether she would be angry or sorry to be herself, to the point of disgust; she could hear the fine crystal of her personality breaking little by little, like a mask, she wondered what was underneath. "And there's nothing worse than lying to yourself…"
Izumi stood there quietly for a long time, analyzing the meaning of her words. Her bubble ended up exploding over her mouth and she remained impassive for several seconds. Yashiro knew that she had touched her in the most sensitive part of her consciousness, just enough to warm up her nearly rusty engines. She could glimpse the hatred in her eyes reborn like a burning sun, and it had not been too difficult to take her to such ends. The crystals shattered into a thousand pieces, creating someone entirely different.
"There's nothing worse than lying to yourself," she repeated what she had said a minute before, frowning as if she were thinking of many things at once. "You're right. I think… I think I've been lying to myself in every possible way for a long time. I've always hated the Sibyl System since what it did to my brother, but the only way I could find to remove that pain was to resort to virtual reality, sharing my ideas with many other people who had gone through the same.
"I may never be like you in the end. I'm terrified of this reality, I admit. You move on the surface while I try to do it in the virtual. You may underestimate it, but I tell you, there are many people willing to do things you can't even imagine. People who not only hide, but wait for the right moment," she looked down at the palm of her hands and then returned to her. "What kind of person are you, Takahashi-san? The one who plans, or the one who waits?"
Yashiro made no effort to conceal her surprise and lifted her face a few inches, as if cold air had suddenly seeped through the windows of the library and into her neck. Hisakawa had an icy, dreamy countenance, which made her at least four years older.
"That shouldn't worry you," Yashiro replied deftly. "You're here because you had doubts about your person, so answer yourself, what kind of person are you?"
The girl stood motionless with a firm smile on her lips. She looked different, more determined. She seemed to keep going over the same question like a complex maze in her head. Finally, she rose from the armchair after a deep sigh, stretching, lifting a great weight off her shoulders. Yashiro watched her curiously from head to toe in search of the young woman she had known thus far. She had the feeling that she had ceased to exist.
"I'll keep your words in mind," she stated with a serious honesty, before greeting her on her way to class. "For some reason, when I talk to you, I feel like I can solve all my problems…"
And without further ado, she left the library, not without first giving Yashiro one last grateful smile. She, instead, sat on the armchair reminiscing again about the conversation they had held. Some people needed a little push in order to grow up and she felt that what she had done with her was right, she felt calm now that she knew that one more girl would be looking for answers on her own. She was still engrossed in her personal satisfaction when a slow, gentle applause surprised her.
"By holding out baits, he keeps him on the march; then with a body of picked men he lies in wait for him," she heard a voice behind her back.
Yashiro did not flinch at the sudden presence; she simply closed her eyes for a few seconds to contain herself. She had not expected anyone at the academy to be watching her, especially one as conservative as that. The footsteps echoed through the room and she knew who it was even when her back was turned. If she had never seen him, she would have turned around to look at his modest, ordinary appearance, even though she knew there was nothing ordinary about him.
Yashiro followed him with her eyes as he sat on the armchair in front of her, right where Hisakawa Izumi had been minutes before. They were the only ones in the entire library, silence seemed to correspond to them. Yashiro saw that he was carrying a book in his hands and when he realized that she was concentrating on the cover, he put his arm on the armchair and lifted the small volume up to his face to capture her attention.
"Sun Tzu," Professor Shibata pointed out.
Yashiro observed him carefully, marveling once again at his very particular tastes. His lips curled in a satisfied smirk as he noted her uncertainty, and he analyzed her with his eyes slightly narrowed.
"Shall I take it as an accusation, or as a compliment?" she asked.
The man looked down for a split second, then returned to the expectant silver eyes that sought to corner him. Yashiro noticed a silent complicity in his gaze, though she knew she had not succeeded in intimidating him. Gradually she began to grow accustomed to his patience and unwavering calm, and she smiled, smiled with a sincerity that even confused herself, for she had forgotten the way her eyes narrowed over such an expression automatically, something that she was unable to avoid at the time.
Her thoughts flowed freely, she felt like an open book in his presence. It was something that had not happened to her with anyone else. He seemed to be someone with whom she could express her innermost secrets and though they were still two strangers, Yashiro felt as if she had known him in the past. It was a strange, dreamy feeling. What was eating her head, was whether he could sense the same. When she tried to define his intentions or thoughts, however, she realized how irrefutably distant they were from each other, because despite being so similar in different aspects as ways of thinking or seeing the world, they were magnets that attracted but never touched each other.
A virtuous and angelic figure in a young body that still produced in her an extravagant feeling, as if she were leaving something behind. She did not know how, but she felt more lost than a satellite in the middle of a starry space, and in some way, that man possessed a superior force similar to gravity which connected her, as if it were not by chance that they met again in the same place for a second time.