Tokyo. A thousand people frozen mid-stride at the Shibuya crossing; an old man watering a bright row of flower pots lining a sidewalk in Ueno; smiling schoolgirls eating candied strawberries under a rain of pink petals. A good place.
Scene by scene, blink by blink, frame by frame, was how Blues had long ago formed a provisional impression of this city. Those pictures, gathered from the netscreen or from the books in Dr. Light's living room, avidly committed to memory, had constructed for him the tantalizing image of the freedom he'd lacked. All those people, going wherever they wanted! Like the birds that he'd used to watch from within the confines of Dr. Light's garden, he'd loved them, hated them, and wanted to be them all at once.
Given his history, he ought to have been skeptical of the extent of what pictures can reveal. But instead he'd been entranced by them and had been convinced they were an accurate reflection of reality, just as someone seeing a few photographs of him playing Dr. Light's piano might mistakenly believe that he had been happy back then.
When Blues had made his promise to Mr. Mitsui, Tokyo had still been that enviable place of his imagination. But now, for all he knew, some of the people in those photographs could be here, cowering in fear along with him in this pitch-dark pedestrian underpass while a series of low rumbles rocked the streets above. From out across the expanse of that dark tunnel came the sighs and sobs of their human-shaped shadows, and the air was heavy with sweat. Along the walls neat long rows of silvery blank netscreens slept, silent. Everything here was either lifeless or it was in pain. The difference between what he'd imagined of Tokyo then, and what he saw of it now, was jarring.
Photographs… that reminded him...
Mr. Mitsui...
A sudden guilty realization seized him, and he yanked Mr. Mitsui's wallet from his backpack. The leather was damp to the touch, but to his relief the photo of Ms. Mitsui and the baby was still pristine within its plastic sleeve. He sighed. Irrational though it was, he felt that as long as the photo was safe, at least, its living and breathing subjects would be, too.
And since his backpack was already open anyway, he counted his energy cells twice for good measure, just to reassure himself that he still had five. Then he took a quick glance around to check whether anyone was taking any notice of him. They weren't, and he was grateful.
When he'd taken shelter here from the rain-and then had found that he wasn't alone-he nevertheless had decided to stay put. Out there, beyond that rectangle of grey at the top of the stairs, he could hear the dissonant sounds of the city flung into chaos: car horns blaring, sirens wailing. Once in a while some panicked scream rang out, far off from some unknown direction. He couldn't tell whether the bursts of light that tore across that rectangle of sky, and the deep low rumbles that followed, were part of the thunderstorm or part of the Light Numbers' sweep of destruction. It felt safer to be underground. With his shades and surgical mask on, in this darkness, he was confident that he'd be able to remain blandly anonymous. He did his best to ignore the other people huddling around him. And, this time at least, he definitely wouldn't delude himself into thinking that any of them would be his friends.
He was just beginning to work up the courage to attempt a clandestine charge from his generator, when all of a sudden the ground began to shake. He jerked his head up in fright. Screams echoed through the underpass.
He put his hands against the wall to steady himself against the force of the rising tremor. For a few tense moments, he looked up toward the ceiling wondering if it was going to cave in. A useless act, he immediately realized, since he couldn't see much of anything. He pressed his lips together, determined not to shout-and he was not going to imagine Dr. Light coming through the door to comfort him, as he'd imagined during the recent earthquake on his mountain in Shizuoka, in what seemed like a lifetime ago.
No, he definitely was not going to imagine it…
His outstretched hand brushed against some else's through the darkness. The encounter was accidental, but the way the other hand then lingered there, tentative and hopeful, was not. Suddenly need met need, and the two sets of fingers opened and laced themselves around each other. The other hand squeezed, and to Blues's surprise his own hand squeezed back.
Let go, stupid, he thought. But his hand refused to obey. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the shadowy outline of the other hand's owner, a rather large man slumped low against the wall. He didn't look like a threat. In fact, he looked tired and weak. Blues could feel no sinister intent in his grip-only a wish to be comforted and to comfort.
"What… do you suppose... that was?" said the man in a wheezy, labored voice, after the shaking had finally stopped. "Like a bomb went off, or a building collapsed, or…" A thick billow of dust poured down the stairway just then, serving as grim confirmation. The man erupted into a sudden fit of coughing. The silhouette of his chest heaved. When he was at last able to speak again, he seemed to have given up on finishing the sentence, and started a new one instead. "Hey, I hope you don't think I'm some kind of weirdo... I mean, I don't usually go around holding hands with complete strangers… It's just… this has been one hell of a night… and I appreciate the company..."
The man's tone of voice somehow managed to convey at once both deep suffering and disarming good humor. In spite of himself, Blues felt well disposed toward him. In fact, he almost felt he'd met this person before…
"Well, you seem like the quiet type... Gonna make me do all the talking, are you?" the man said. "I'm having a little asthma attack, you see… lost my inhaler up there when I was running... So it may be hard for me to carry the conversation… but, all right, I'll try…" He let out a self-effacing chuckle, which turned into another coughing fit.
Blues eyed the man curiously from behind his shades. He couldn't make out his features clearly through this darkness, but there was definitely something familiar about his wheezing… and the sound of his cough… and his casual, chummy manner of speaking…
"So, whose hand am I holding, anyway?" said the man, and his hand gave Blues's own a couple of friendly pumps. "From the looks of it… at least, from what I can make out of you… you must be about twelve or thirteen or so. Am I right?"
"Um... yeah," said Blues. "You're right."
"Then you're the same age as my boy," the man said. He seemed to be speaking more easily now. "Got a daughter too, seventeen. Thank goodness they're overseas, away from all this mess. I've only been back in the country since last month… came to attend a tech symposium in Tsukuba, then stayed to visit some old school friends for a couple of weeks... I was supposed to fly back to America tomorrow. Great timing, huh?
"But where's your family at, son?"
"They're in… Suginami Ward," Blues said. He couldn't bring himself to say "Shizuoka," and the Mitsuis' neighborhood was the next place that had come to mind. Then, for reasons he couldn't fully understand, he suddenly added, "I have to get back there. They need me."
They need me. Had he really just said that? Well, it was true. The Mitsuis needed him. He'd already known that, but for some reason saying it out loud made him feel much more important. It felt good to be needed. With this stranger's hand clasped firmly around his own, and with his own life tied together with the Mitsuis' by this string of need, a giddy sort of contentment washed over him. It was so pleasant that, for now at least, nothing could convince him to be wary of it.
"Need you? Damn right, they need you. Jesus, I bet they're worried sick about you."
I only wish someone out there was worried about me, thought Blues. But in lieu of an answer, he simply nodded.
"Anyway, how are you gonna get back there? The trains aren't running now, obviously."
"I... don't know," Blues said. "Walk, I guess. But I don't know what direction to walk in."
"Suginami Ward, huh? It's due north of here... On foot it might take you—hell, I dunno—a few hours? That's under normal conditions, of course. With those Light Numbers running amok, though…" The man sucked in some air through his teeth. "Well, I think you'd better lay low here for a while. Wish I could take you there myself, when it's safe..."
Blues stared dumbfounded at the dark figure beside him. Even the way he sucked in air through his teeth was familiar. In a flash he remembered the day he had spent at Nurtech years ago, where he had met Ogata. Heavy-set Ogata, with that same wheeze and friendly manner of speech; Ogata sucking in air through his teeth; Ogata asking for his inhaler. What if…
It can't be…
Ogata, who had helped him get back his confiscated sketchbooks; Ogata, who had faked an asthma attack so that he and Morita could try to warn him about Nurtech's plans for the code. Ogata, who had managed to make him laugh, and who had, for one whole afternoon, spoken to him as if he were a human being…
"Well, anyway," said the man, "since we've been stuck here holding hands for so long... I might as well introduce myself..."
I know who you are… you're Ogata…
"The name's Ogata."
A wild impulse ran through Blues's mind just then: to fling off his shades and surgical mask and reveal himself to the man sitting beside him. Yes, it had been stupid of him to imagine that he could trust the three humans who'd helped him escape from the train. Humans, in general, were not to be trusted. But this human already knew his origins, and Blues even had reason to believe that Ogata, although to a lesser extent than him, had also been bullied and used by Nurtech. For a few precious minutes, long ago, Ogata and his colleague Morita had shown themselves to be his allies-not only against the company, but even against Blues's creators. Their concern for his welfare, although expressed only briefly from behind a glass wall, had been free of any ulterior motives that Blues could conceive of.
He raised his hand up to his mask, gave it a half-hearted tug, and his will suddenly faltered. He was afraid. Why shouldn't he be? It was clear that he had an irrational yearning to be able to trust someone, anyone-the feeling was itchy, uncomfortable, and growing ever more unbearable with time-but experience had taught him caution. He put his hand back down. He decided he'd keep on talking to Ogata, but he wasn't ready to show his face just yet.
"Well, you are the quiet type," said Ogata, with a good-natured snort. "I don't even get a 'nice to meet you,' huh?"
"Nice to meet you," said Blues, and stifled a nervous laugh.
"You got a name, son?"
Blues didn't answer.
"All right," said Ogata. "You know, that's okay. I don't need to know your name. I'll just get to the point. There's something I need to get off my chest, and it's important that I do it quick. Of course, I'd call my family right now if the network wasn't down. But it is down... And even though you're just a stranger, if you don't mind, I wonder if you could just lend an ear? I've gotta tell somebody, and this could just be my last chance."
"Um, sure," said Blues, grateful to be released from the obligation to talk about himself. But partly because his near-escape from the train and unexpected encounter with Ogata had left him rattled, and partly because he was in dire need of a charge, the full force and meaning of Ogata's words escaped him. "Last chance" didn't even register.
"You believe in karma, kid?"
"I don't know," said Blues. "I've never really thought about it."
"Well, I'd never really thought about it either. Not seriously, anyway. But for the past few hours, ever since those Light Numbers started attacking, I've been thinking about it nonstop. I can't get it off my mind.
"Now, you're young, and you're not responsible for the events that led up to this mess. If something happened to you, and if you couldn't get back safely to your family…" He paused. "It'd be a travesty. If it happened to me, though…" He took a deep, rasping breath. "I mean, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't scared of dying here. I'm scared, for sure. I don't want to die. I'd like to see my kids and my wife again, for sure. What I'm saying is, though, that if I were to die here, to get killed by one of those Light Labs robots, there'd be a kind of... right-ness to it.
"And that's because, for the past thirty years or so, I made my living designing robots that kill people. For the military, you know. I guess you could argue there's nothing wrong with that... a country's got a right to defend itself. That's how I used to justify it, anyway. And thanks to my career, my wife and I enjoyed a pretty good life… we raised a couple of good kids…
"But sometimes, I'd get to thinking… that if my designs were ever used in an actual war, they'd kill people who are barely more than kids themselves. I'd think and think, and feel a little disturbed for a while, but soon I'd get over it and just carry on as before. My day to day work at my netscreen, in my comfortable office, was so far removed from its real-life application. Even when we'd do field testing, it still seemed unreal to me… 'cause of course we didn't test on real people, with mothers and dreams and all that. It was so easy to lose sight of the bigger picture.
"And then, a couple of years ago, the last time I came back to Japan before this time, in fact, I had an experience that changed me. I was invited to take part in evaluating a new A.I. developed by a company here and, out of curiosity, I went. It was a project that Dr. Light had had a hand in, if you can believe that… I'd always respected Light's work, so..."
Blues pricked up his ears in recognition. "What was it?" he said, with a little more enthusiasm than he'd intended. "That new A.I. you're talking about…"
"Well, I had to sign a release saying I'd never tell anyone else what I saw that day. And that's probably for the best, because I doubt anyone would believe me…"
"I would," said Blues. He just couldn't help cutting in.
"Well, the point is…" Ogata took another deep breath. "The point is, I had some very deep concerns about the ethics of that project. That company was into some shady stuff... Can't go into it… It was bad enough how they treated me, and my fellow evaluators… I've said quite enough already… Anyway…
"Later that same day, I heard afterwards, the project and its prototype model were completely destroyed. Gone, nothing left. It seemed like an accident, but a colleague of mine and I have always suspected that Dr. Light or one of his partners sabotaged the project themselves.
"That whole experience spooked me real bad. It straight-up messed me up for a while afterward. I couldn't work. So I took a sabbatical from my career, and during that time I started coaching my son's little league baseball team. I'd always loved baseball, and I loved the chance to connect with my son, and…"
For a few moments, Ogata went silent. Blues turned his head and waited.
"Do you like baseball, son?" Ogata said at last.
"Um… It's okay, I guess. I haven't really played it much," said Blues, which was almost true. In fact, the only experience he'd ever had with baseball was the game of catch he'd played with Ogata at Nurtech. He was still fond of that memory. For those few precious minutes, he'd even forgotten why he'd been brought to that horrible place.
"A Japanese boy your age, and you've never played baseball?" said Ogata. "Strange. Well, different strokes…" He paused. "You know, I'd take you to Suginami Ward if I could…
"Anyway, on with my story… After a couple months of coaching, one evening, I'd just dismissed the players, and my son went to the lavatory, and I was alone there for a minute as the sun was setting over the field. It was a scorching summer day, and I was covered in sweat, and I was exhausted, but… as I watched the clouds turning this beautiful shade of orange, I realized that this was the happiest I'd ever been in my whole life. This… was it. Everything that came before it suddenly seemed like a waste. I wished… I wished I'd found it earlier. And I knew then that I could never go back to my former career. And I never did. Because, coaching baseball… it hurt no one. If I had it to do all over again, I'd make sure to choose a path from the beginning that hurt no one...
"Now I think about you, son, and how, because of what I've done with most of my life, I've left this world a little nastier for you. Next time there's a major armed conflict, you'll probably see… And I'm sorry for that. And that's why I think 'death by robot' wouldn't be an unfitting way for me to go tonight.
"You know, I always thought of myself as a decent sort of guy… never bore any ill will toward anyone. My only problem was that I didn't think things through all the way..."
Blues looked down at his lap, thinking about Ogata's words. They were heavy, and had an urgency to them which Blues couldn't quite understand. Nor could he imagine why Ogata had felt the need to say all this to someone he thought was a stranger. He felt that Ogata was asking him for something-forgiveness, or, if not that, then at least some kind of reassurance. Whatever the case, Blues didn't like him any less after hearing his confession than he had before, and he certainly didn't think that he deserved to die. After a minute or two of fumbling around in his head for a response, he decided at last on a simple observation he'd had-which seemed so obvious to him that he was surprised Ogata hadn't mentioned it.
"Mr. Ogata," he said, "you said it'd be fitting if the Light Numbers killed you. But, If they did, they wouldn't be killing a weapons designer-they'd be killing a little league coach."
A few moments of silence passed between them. Ogata let out a long sigh. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, maybe so. You could look at it that way. Maybe the one who killed that weapons designer was me." He paused again, as if he were still savoring the idea. "I like that. Don't think I would ever have thought of it myself..."
Just then a pang in Blues's stomach appeared and steadily built itself to a crescendo. He lowered his head and braced himself. At that moment, he was especially glad to be holding Ogata's hand. When the pain subsided, he remembered what Ogata had said about not thinking things through. Strange, it was exactly what Dr. Wily had said about Blues's creators the night he'd run away:
"The rough first iteration of your CPU sat on Tom's desk gathering dust for a few months while our grant proposals were turned down one after another, and that should have been the end of you—but that's when Nurtech came forward. They offered us their generosity and their patience—and we didn't think it through. Especially Tom… We had nearly twenty long years to mull things over, and could have turned back any time—but we kept at it anyway, and even ended up activating you…"
"Mr. Ogata?" Blues said suddenly.
"Yeah?"
"Don't you think, maybe… that Dr. Light was the same as you used to be? I mean, about not thinking things through all the way?"
"Hmmm." Ogata paused for a long time, and when he spoke again Blues thought his voice had become smaller and more distant, though no less friendly. "Well, I don't know… I don't think he could ever have imagined his Numbers would get hacked and used like this, by his partner of all people-at least, that's what they've been speculating on the news…"
"I mean, I'm talking about the project he did with the 'shady' company," Blues said, and leaned in closer. "The one that spooked you so much. Do you think that, when he started the project a long time ago, his intentions had been good… that the problem was that he hadn't thought it through?"
"Much as I admired him, I never met the guy," Ogata said. "So I can't guess what was going on in his head. But yeah, without a doubt, it did seem that way to me. And I also think... that most of the evil that's in this world doesn't come from evil people. It comes from good people screwing up..."
"And do you think, maybe…" Blues continued, with a rush of excitement that slightly baffled him, "that Dr. Light could change, the way you've changed?"
"Yeah, I suppose. Why not?... But what's this all about? Do you know him or something?..."
With his hand still clasped firmly around Ogata's, Blues closed his eyes. He felt himself floating far away from the dark and forlorn underpass, away from the besieged city, back toward Shizuoka and the newly rebuilt home belonging to Dr. Light which he had watched wide-eyed on the newscast earlier today. Talking with Ogata had made him realize that people didn't necessarily stay the same all their lives. If they chose to, they could jettison their old selves and create new ones. Perhaps… if he were next to Dr. Light right now, and if Dr. Light was as remorseful as Ogata had been… so much that his not-thinking-things-through self had disappeared for good… Could Blues, maybe…
Forgive him? No sooner had the words formed themselves in his mind than he had already begun to bat them away. No, of course not. It had been easy for Blues to pardon Ogata for the self-described mistakes of his former life, because they'd had nothing to do with him. On the other hand, Dr. LIght's not-thinking-things-through had hurt him, deeply. Forgiving him was a stupid idea… even if Dr. Light could change…
Wasn't it?
"This sucks," Ogata said. "I want to see my family... I want to go home…"
Blues turned to the man beside him, perplexed. Ogata's hand had gone limp in his own. Something was wrong with him. Very wrong.
"Are you okay, Mr. Ogata?"
"Actually, I don't know, son…" Ogata said, in a strained whisper. "Up there… a little while ago… I saw a train get derailed… I was pretty close to the scene… There was a big crash, and something got me right in the stomach…"
Just then the underpass was bathed in an eerie glow as the two rows of netscreens-one on the wall behind Blues and Ogata, and the other on the wall opposite-hummed to life. Blues gasped. He suddenly found himself staring into the smirking face of Dr. Wily, multiplied twenty times. His hair was greyer, and much more unkempt, than the last time Blues had seen it, and he had a wild look in his eyes.
"People of Tokyo," the faces on the netscreens said, "this is Dr. Albert Wily speaking. Good evening and... well, I'm not going to beat around the bush. The rumors are true, you see: I am the one responsible for stealing six of the Light Numbers and... um, tweaking with their safety subroutines. I assume you've all seen the results, and that they've given you a bit of trouble... and that you probably hate me right now.
"History will judge me as a terrorist or a madman—or both. But chew on this for a while: if you think six super-advanced robots wreaking havoc in Tokyo is bad enough, try to imagine how much worse it could have been if Light had been allowed, as he'd wanted, to fill the earth with those things. And if I am after all only a middling sort of genius, as Light said to the press after our live debate last month, then any number of semi-intelligent vertebrates could have hijacked them the way I've just done. Right? Except, in that case, we wouldn't be talking now about the destruction of one city, but of the whole of humanity. But that's not going to happen, because once humanity sees the Light Numbers reduce Tokyo to a smouldering pile of rubble, it's going to nip this in the bud. And by this, I mean Light Labs, Inc.!
"If you haven't been keeping up with current events this summer, then you'd do well to spend the last remaining battery power on your netphones watching the content of that debate between Light and I at Tsukuba last month, where those monstrosities were foisted on a fawning and naive public—that's you, gentle viewers—using high-minded verbiage like 'progress' and 'in the service of humanity.'
"You'll see how I raised a calm and rational objection, even though I did have to bravely push my way up onto the stage to do it. Then you'll see what I got in return: how the crowd booed me, and how Light accused me of both personal and professional envy as security personnel dragged me to the exit.
"I saw firsthand how dangerous Light and his inventions are, and I did my moral duty by warning the public. You didn't believe me then. Well, do you believe me now?
"Oh, and kid? I'd look over my shoulder if I were you. My right shoulder. Over by the stairs. It's a bit dark where you are, but I think you'll see it. Good luck."
The netscreens went black and the underpass was plunged into its former darkness. Cries of confusion rang out all around. Blues didn't know what to make of Dr. Wily's words any more than the people around him; however, the last thing he'd heard had been especially unsettling… a call to action, directed at him, through netscreens which Blues was certain could transmit signals only in one direction… Impossible...
Dr. Wily… Don't be talking to me. Blues squeezed Ogata's hand ever more tightly. Don't be talking to me, don't be talking to me. Don't be talking...
At last he willed himself to turn his head toward his right shoulder. He forced his eyes open. For a moment or two he saw nothing but shadows at the other side of the underpass, which was silent and empty. And then he squinted, and a dark, hovering, roundish object came hazily into view. He let go of Ogata's hand and grabbed onto his backpack. It was time to run, but he didn't want to run alone.
"Mr. Ogata!" Blues tore off his mask and sunglasses. "It's me, Blues! I didn't get destroyed in that fire. I escaped. I'm alive!"
Ogata didn't respond. Blues yanked on the man's hand, but it was heavy and limp. "Hey, get up, will you?" he said. "I'm in trouble, and I've got to get out of here right now. Let's go to Suginami Ward together. You'll take me there... won't you?"
Blues jerked his head toward the wheel, which was hovering ever closer. His panic rising, he called out Ogata's name again, louder this time, shook him by the chest… and drew back in horror. His hands were covered in warm, black blood. He looked: sticking out of Ogata's stomach, in the middle of a wide, dark stain, was a twisted piece of steel shrapnel the size of a bottle.
One more desperate shake, one more cry of the man's name, and Blues knew Ogata was dead. He stifled a sob, threw his backpack over his shoulder, and ran like hell up into the roaring night.
