Blues awoke staring up into the faces of Tom and Albert. The work lamp, which had been turned off, was hanging above him. He realized he was in the lab, lying on the stainless steel table, but a few adjustments had been made with his comfort in mind: his futon and the electric blanket had been placed under him, and a pillow was wedged beneath his head. The generator, which he guessed had been plugged into his navel, but was now disconnected, was at his side.
"Good morning, sleepyhead," said Dr. Wily with a smile. "It`s nice to see you functional again. It was getting awfully quiet around here without your music—not to mention all your pissing and moaning." He winked. "Too quiet."
Blues glanced at one face, then another, and blinked, feeling dazed. He recalled the fight he`d witnessed between Albert and Tom, but it seemed they had already reconciled.
"What happened?" he said.
"Tom found you unconscious, in a rather undignified position," said Albert, with a lopsided smirk. "If you ever had any doubts regarding your nationality, by the way, you can put them to rest now. Apparently you have a knack for falling asleep anywhere, so you must be Japanese. Congratulations—or, perhaps I should say `my condolences.`"
"You`ve been out for a week," said Dr. Light. Unlike Albert, he wasn`t smiling. His nose was red, and his eyes were glassy. "You gave me quite a scare when I couldn`t wake you up. That`s when I did a diagnostic check and discovered your energy level was at zero."
It all came back to him: the search for his missing sketchbooks, his descent into the lab, the password he had used to access the netscreen, the odd pain and the sudden fatigue, Dr. Light`s logs, and the correspondence with the man named Takayama. Blues must have looked frightened at the recollection, because just then Dr. Light put a reassuring hand on his arm.
"You remember what you were doing right before you shut down, don`t you, Blues?" he said.
Blues nodded with trepidation.
"Clever boy," Albert said with a fond smile. "How did you figure out it was Catherine`s birthday?"
Blues looked at Albert`s face, then at Tom`s, surprised not to see the reactions he was expecting. "Aren`t you angry?" he said.
"At you? Of course not," Dr. Light said. "Why would we be angry?"
"We knew, sooner or later, you`d try sticking your nose into some place it doesn`t belong," said Albert. "But if anyone`s to blame, it`s Tom for being so damned transparent." He crossed his arms, and gave Dr. Light an admonishing look. "The man`s supposedly a genius, but he`s too sentimental, or too lazy, to secure his own netscreen with a decent password. You`d better hope he made you a bit more difficult to hack."
"Anyway, what`s done is done," said Tom, with a sigh. "We can`t exactly ask you to forget what you saw."
"In case you were wondering, the security system code has been changed," Albert said, and gave Blues another wink. "So don`t get any big ideas."
"Who`s Takayama?" Blues said.
Tom and Albert looked at each other.
"Before we tell you that," said Dr. Wily, "you`d better tell us what you know first. How much did you learn, anyway?"
Blues shut his eyes. He saw, with perfect clarity, the content of the logs he`d read documenting his development—nothing of which had taught him anything new, except that he was referred to as "the subject" or "DRN-000." Even the email conversation between Tom and Takayama hadn`t yielded much. He`d skipped ahead in several places, and there was a lot he had missed. He had the impression that the two didn`t get along, yet they, and he, were all bound together by a contract that had to be fulfilled. He also knew now that Dr. Light had tried to defend Blues from the procurement of more "evidence," but that, apparently, he had failed.
He looked up at Dr. Light with a feeling of gratitude, although he didn`t fully comprehend it. With his defenses lowered, his found himself telling his creators everything he knew.
"So, you understand that the tests will have to continue, for now," said Tom.
"Perhaps it`s better that you snooped, after all," said Albert. "Now you know we`re on your side. There`s an... agreement, you see, between Takayama and us. We`ll give him what he wants, and he`ll give us what we want."
Blues blinked. He felt lost again. Albert`s words seemed to contradict what he had said just before his fight with Tom. "Wait a minute," he said. "What do we want?"
Dr. Wily leaned in closer and raised his eyebrows. "Your freedom," he said. "Of course, Tom gets something else out of the deal too, and the two of us have had our disagreements about that... but that`s all water under the bridge now." As he spoke, Tom gave him a penetrating look, which Albert answered with a sheepish smile. "Anyway, that`s not important. What`s important is you. How are you feeling?"
"All right, I guess," Blues said, and closed his hand around the sleeve of his oversized bathrobe. He realized he`d been put into it while he was unconscious. He glanced down. It was parted from the waist up, and his chest cavity was open. He saw bundles of thousands of colored wires, and a few inputs into which three white cords, leading off to the left, had been inserted.
He stared downward, regarding the vision with an air of unreality.
"Oh, right, that`s what your insides look like," said Albert. "You`ve never seen it before, have you?"
Blues shook his head.
"We were... doing some work on you while you were out," said Tom, whose voice had suddenly seemed to become dry. "Mostly, we were investigating something."
"Sorry about making you wear this again," said Albert, and tugged at the sleeve of the bathrobe. "We know it`s not your style, but it makes our job easier, and meanwhile it lets you keep some measure of dignity—though, of course, it`s not like we haven`t seen it all already." He gave Blues a kidding nudge on the elbow. "Anyway, I won`t bore you with the technical details, but the gist of it is that we had to take a lot of stuff out of you and put it back in, in order to find the source of the problem."
"Problem?" Just as Blues said the word, the biting pain in his midsection returned. He clenched his hands at his sides, a gesture his creators observed with worried looks.
"Are you in pain, Blues?" Dr. Light said.
"Yes."
"I was afraid so."
Blues turned to the left, and his eyes followed the white cords to their source: the portable netscreen, behind Dr. Light, on a second table. He saw the words Diagnostic Findings at the top of the screen in white, and underneath, flashing red, the words Anomaly Detected.
He tried to push himself upright, but Tom and Albert grasped him by the arms and pressed him gently back onto the table. "Easy, there," said Dr. Light. "We`re not quite finished. It`ll be just a few more minutes."
"What`s wrong with me?"
Dr. Wily cleared his throat, and cast a weary glance at his companion. "Tom, I think you`d better be the one to explain it," he said.
Blues looked up at Dr. Light, who seemed reluctant to return his gaze. Tom took a deep breath. "Well, you see, Blues..." he said, rubbed at his beard, and closed his eyes. "When we created you, it was the first time any programmer had attempted something so... ambitious. We knew you`d require a lot of processing power, but we underestimated just how much..." When Tom opened his eyes again, they were full of fear. "It seems your consciousness has now developed to a point where—we didn`t forsee this—your power core just can`t keep up, and it`s become unstable. You can`t hold a charge as long as you used to, which is why you shut down only three days since your last one, instead of being able to last the usual five or six. In addition, there are some signals getting crossed: that`s where your pain is coming from. And we have a hypothesis... which we hope is wrong..."
Tom glanced at Albert, and Albert, with a wave of his hand, looked away. "We think... well, you`re not done developing yet," Tom continued, and took in a sharp intake of air. "You`re going to keep making new memories, learning, and forming connections—and we think that, the more you do, the more unstable your core will become... until a time when, if nothing is done to fix the problem, there will be a... a.."
"A total system failure." Albert turned back toward Blues, and flashed a bittersweet smile. "In other words, kid," he said, in a watery voice, "you`re too damn smart for your own good. But you already knew that, didn`t you?"
Blues listened with open ears, and began to feel as though he was sinking further downward into the table. It made sense to him, now, why they hadn`t been angry that he`d "stuck his nose" into something forbidden: the reason was that they felt sorry for him. He closed his eyes. His mind was awash with questions, all of them vying with one another for importance. He stammered, but the words he wanted to say didn`t come out.
"Sorry, again," said Dr. Wily. "It`s just `sorry, sorry` all the time from us, isn`t it? I bet you`re thinking it would be nice to hear a `you`re welcome` for once."
"How long will it be?" said Blues. "I mean, until the `total system failure`?"
Dr. Light sighed and shook his head. "We don`t know," he said. "We`d like your help to figure that out. We`re going to start documenting the dates and times when you recharge, as well as your pain levels. Based on that, I think a pattern will emerge, which we can use to calculate the rate of decline. Right now, I can`t give you a definite answer. It could be months, or years. Hopefully, even decades..."
"For God`s sake, man," said Albert. "Aren`t you going to give him the good news too?"
Dr. Light managed a weak smile. "The good news is, we think we can fix the problem in time. Actually, we`re certain we can."
"We created you, after all, and that was no small feat," Dr. Wily said. "Don`t you worry. We`re going to pull out all the stops. Your mom`s even coming, all the way from the other side of the world, to help. You`re going to meet Yuichi, too: a good kid—you`ll like him."
Just then, Dr. Light`s netphone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket, and Albert leaned forward to catch a glimpse at the screen. "Speak of the Devil," he said. "It`s her."
Tom answered, greeted Judith, and after half a minute of pleasantries, the phone was held up to Blues`s ear.
"Blues, is that you?" said Judith`s voice. It sounded to Blues like she was shouting to him from the other side of a tunnel. "Have they explained it all to you yet?"
"Um... yes," he answered, in a voice he himself could barely hear. At the moment, he didn`t feel like talking.
"Hello? Blues, are you okay?"
"I... I think so."
"Don`t be frightened. I helped Tom to design your power core, and we`ve already got an idea or two regarding how to patch it up. In the meantime, if the discomfort gets to be too much, you can ask Tom to turn your pain receptors off. I only recommend it as a temporary measure, though—in excess, it can cause a host of other issues.
"It`ll be a few weeks before I can get to you, but I`ll certainly make it there in time for your birthday. Until then, Tom`s going to do a little more investigating, and draw up a couple of plans for us to try. So just hang in there, all right?"
"All right," said Blues, and had almost placed the netphone back into Tom`s hand, when he suddenly yanked it back against his ear. "Dr. Sorensen?" he said, in a voice that was louder and more urgent.
"Yes, Blues?"
"Why am I here?"
There was silence on the other end of the line. Blues saw Tom and Albert staring down at him with pitiful looks.
He listened to the sound of Judith`s slow breathing for a few moments before, at last, she answered. "We`re going to talk about that when I come to see you. You only have a while longer to wait, so for now, try to put the question out of your mind, relax, and do the things that make you happy." There was an awkward pause during which Judith cleared her throat. "Could you give the phone back to Tom now, dear?"
Instead of doing what she asked, he decided to press harder. "Wait," he said. "This conversation we`re having... are you recording it?"
"I..." Judith let out a small gasp. "No, of course not, Blues," she said.
He glanced around the room, seaching for any sign of a blinking red light. Tom and Albert followed his eyes, and their faces darkened as they realized what he was looking for.
"Blues," said Dr. Light, and took a step closer. "There aren`t any cameras here. It`s just you and us."
"It`s true that you`re an... experiment, of sorts," said the voice of Judith through the netphone, "but you`re more to us than that. Our relationship with you—it isn`t just about gathering `evidence.`"
Reluctantly, Blues held out the phone. Dr. Light took it and cupped his hand over the receiver. "I`ll be right back," he said. "Albert, keep an eye on his energy level while I`m gone." Then he turned and ascended the stairs. Blues and Albert watched him go, and seconds later the two of them heard the sound of the basement door shutting behind him.
Heaving a sigh, Dr. Wily glanced at the netscreen on the opposing table, then down at Blues. "Now, the question you ought to be asking yourself is, `if they`re so sure they can fix me, why do they seem scared out of their wits?`" he said in a lowered voice, and leaned in closer. "You see, Tom and Judith are just like those Showa-era doctors who used to lie about the prognosis to keep their terminal patients in good spirits. They thought it was a mercy, but we in the modern age know that knowledge is power.
"The truth is that we`re not really sure your power core can be fixed—well, not in a manner we`d all be happy with, anyway. The most likely scenario for you is a rapid decline, followed by that `total system failure` we told you about."
Blues stared up at Dr. Wily in silence. He didn`t know how to answer.
"It`s a lot to take in, I know." Albert clasped Blues`s hand in his own, and squeezed. "If you`re as much like us as we think you are, you`ll probably be wondering `why me?` But this suffering you`re soon going to be acquainted with—as you would have learned eventually, one way or another—in this world, well, it`s just the ordinary state of affairs."
An image came to Blues`s mind of the dead crow he`d seen in the forest last spring, crawling with ants. The memory faded, and was replaced with the picture of Catherine next to the green urn in the butsudan, accompanied by the sound of Dr. Light`s feet shuffling against the living room floor.
"Listen," Dr. Wily continued, "and don`t you dare repeat this to Tom: when there`s no other way out, there are humans, sometimes, who take matters into their own hands. Carbon monoxide, sleeping pills, and hanging are tried and true methods, but none of them are going to work for you. If you want to escape, you`re going to have to be a bit more... inventive.
"See those red plastic jugs by the stairs? Do you know what`s in them?"
Blues turned his head to look, but he already knew the answer. "Kerosene," he said, and was surprised by the sound of his own voice. It seemed to come from far away.
"That`s right," Albert said. "If there`s one thing your system can`t endure, it`s extreme heat. Pour some of that on yourself, and light one of the matches in Tom`s desk drawer over there. It will be quick, much quicker even than for a human. For God`s sake, just remember to take your pain receptors offline first. I`ll show you how. It`s a bit tricky at first, but once you get the hang of it..."
It wasn`t until then that Blues realized Dr. Wily was teaching him how to destroy himself.
"Of course, I`m not saying you should actually do it," said Albert, with an emphatic shake of his head. "It`s information, nothing more. Just file this little piece of data away in your memory bank. Whether you use it, or not, is up to you.
"Why am I telling you all this? Because I believe you deserve some measure of control over your own life—and how it`s going to end. Up until now, you`ve had precious little of that.
"There`s something you should know about how your mind works. It was constructed much like a house of cards: remove one component, and the whole thing comes crashing down. Tom insisted on doing it that way, he said, so that you could have faith in your own `psychological integrity,` as he calls it. It was meant to protect you, but in the case of your `anomaly,` it`s going to pose quite an obstacle for us.
"We`re going to do what we can to save you, but I can`t make any promises. If we mess it up, you could be in pretty bad shape before this is all over. I know the others are going to hold out hope to the very end, regardless of what you may want—and they might even decide to do something, as a last resort, that you probably wouldn`t consent to...
"Look at me." Albert`s pale blue eyes were wide. He drew in even closer—so close that Blues had to fight the urge to turn away—and lowered his voice to a whisper. "This is important. We`re getting to the crux of the matter now. Tom and Judith aren`t going to tell you this, but there are two methods we could use to repair your core: an easy one and a hard one. The hard one, the one we`re going to try first, is almost guaranteed to fail. The easy one is sure to work—but, as I think you`d agree, it has its... disadvantages..."
Just then, the basement door opened, and Blues heard the sound of Dr. Light`s footsteps descending the stairs. Dr. Wily straightened himself, cleared his throat, and glanced at the netscreen. Just before Tom`s feet came into view, Albert locked eyes with Blues and put his finger up to his lips. Frightened, Blues nodded in understanding.
Dr. Light appeared at the bottom of the steps with the phone in his hand. "Sorry to keep you waiting," he said. "Albert, where are we at now?"
With another hard glance at the netscreen, Albert pressed his lips together. "Ninety nine point forty five percent," he said. He looked down at his watch. "It`s been almost exactly thirty minutes now since we brought him online, so that means he`s draining at a rate of about one point one percent an hour. Nice round number. That puts us at about... three days, seventeen and a half hours until he reaches zero again—but of course, he`s going to start feeling it long before that."
"All right," said Tom, and joined Albert at Blues`s side. "Now we`ve got some idea of what we`re working with." He looked down at Blues, and put on a brave smile. "Have courage. We`re going to fix this," he said. "You`ll be good as new in no time. But for now, you have things to do, so let`s get you off this table."
Blues watched with a feeling of weary dissociation as they removed the cables from his chest one by one, then as Dr. Light traced his fingers around the cavity, causing it to close up and conceal itself under a panel of synthetic skin. Within a few seconds, the outline of the panel faded and disappeared, leaving no visible trace it was ever there.
"Pretty neat, isn`t it?" said Tom. He seemed to be in somewhat better spirits. There was no way he could have known how bewildered, and terrified, Blues was.
"Yeah," Blues said, still feeling as though his voice was coming from somewhere outside of himself. The two men pulled him up by the arms, and he wrapped himself more tightly in his bathrobe. As he sat upright, by chance his eyes settled on the red jugs of kerosene by the stairs. He looked from one face to the other and knew that one of them—Tom or Albert—was lying about his fate, and he didn`t have a clue which it was. He could never have guessed then that it was both—each for very different reasons.
As they helped him to get up, fluttering and disoriented, from the table, his pain returned—and he realized a new phase of his life was beginning, and that it was going to be lonelier, and more confused, than the first. He got to his feet, and they followed him up the stairs and through the basement door. He took out his coat from the closet in the living room, put it over his shoulders, and went out into the garden.
He squinted up at the sun. It was a bright and cloudless December afternoon. The maple tree, which only a week ago had been covered in blindingly red foliage, was now completely bare. He heard crows cawing in the distance, and smelled woodsmoke which must have blown in from a farm kilometers away: a place he`d never seen, and had no hope of seeing anytime soon. He looked behind him, and saw the shadows of Dr. Light and Dr. Wily peering out at him from behind the sliding glass door.
It would have given him some comfort then to know that the person in whom he`d one day find relief was alive, gazing up at the same sun as him—but she was still a world away, and too early in her own development even to know that she too was mortal. Into those memories, like this one, that were too painful for him to relive just as they happened, he liked to insert the sound of her cool voice calling out to him from the future, echoing Judith`s words urging him to "hang in there."
He made his way toward the camellia, which now, for the first time since the previous winter, was covered in flowers, but a flare of pain stopped him in his tracks before he could reach it. "Hang in there, Blues," said the voice, as he clutched at his stomach. "Just hang in there."
So that`s what he did.
