Chapter 20: As Pheidippides Ran to Athens
A series of anecdotes revealing the deeds of Rockman in his pursuit of WWW—the crimes and trespassings he made for the sake of Netto. These are his tries to move the world, or fix it even...perhaps, along the way, somewhere, there was a chance to stop. Perhaps, he had an option of giving up. Perhaps, Netto's soul could have been saved in a deceptively simpler way, and it is entirely possible that his actions only acted to exacerbate the problem. Yet, who can blame him, who had decided that Netto to be his heaven, a goal worthy of all that he had? To a man who has found that which is greater than his life, there can only be envious admiration, for it is what every man stumbles in search of.
1. Stoneman
It did not take long until the little algorithm Rockman infected the police communications with to fish up relevant information. The opportunity presented itself so conveniently and quickly that it surprised Rockman, even though it was exactly he who hoped such a serendipity to be the yield of what he sowed. One afternoon, after school, he was able to intercept a dispatcher's broadcast requiring the response of netpolice in the area:
Dispatch: This is dispatch, to all units in the channel. We have a 10-34*, ACDC metro. Male in 20s, 5' 5'', slim, armed with a blunt. Wearing a black baseball cap, mask, black shirt, denim jeans.
(*10-34: ongoing assault)
Officer: Dispatch, this is 2112. 10-04*. Responding and on route. ETA* 5 minutes.
(*10-04: message acknowledged. *ETA: estimated time to arrival)
Dispatch: 12, 10-05*. ETA again?
(*10-05: repeat the message)
Officer: 2112, 5 minutes.
Dispatch: 10-04.
-Rockman noticed approximately a 5-minute gap in the communication.
Officer: Dispatch, this is 2112. 10-84*.
(*10-84: arrived at the scene)
Officer: Dispatch come in, this is 2112, on the scene.
Dispatch: 12, go.
Officer: Suspect locked himself in the server room. We are told that one station attendant had been assaulted before the guy locked himself up. They say- (pause). They say that the guy claimed to be a member of WWW.
Dispatch: What's the status of the attendant? 10-56*?
(*10-56: verify if an ambulance is needed)
Officer: Negative.
Dispatch: Have you made a visual contact with the suspect? What does the situation look like, exactly?
Officer: Negative. No visual contact. The guy already got himself locked in when we arrived. We will breach and move in for an arrest. One moment.
Officer: The chief of station says that their server is being actively attacked. He says the station is inoperational. He says, apparently, that the server is now open to the outside network and is getting attacked. 10-85*, we need netpolice on the scene.
(*10-85: request for additional unit)
Dispatch: 10-06*. (Pause). 12, this is dispatch, 2119 and 2220 are on route, ETA 7 minutes. Do you copy?
(*10-06: standby)
Officer: 7 minutes, 10-04. Holding the server room entrance.
The potential encounter with a WWW agent was a bait too attractive to restrain oneself. When Rockman heard that the metro server was open to external intervention, he decided to jump at the opportunity despite the narrow window for action. The plan was simple: Netto would operate him from the PC, he would access the metro server via internet, delete the WWW netnavi (which he inferred as must be present based on the attack on the server), extract what information he could, and then disappear before the netpolice showed up.
"But that would give us, what, 2 or 3 minutes to work with a WWW netnavi! Rockman, wouldn't that be too...short?"
"Netto kun, with your operation, I am sure we can do this. Besides, I can always get out quickly before it gets too hot. This is the chance to learn more about WWW! Come on, the clock is ticking!"
What a lie! Borne out of desperation! Rockman had no way of evaluating how Netto's operating skills fared in comparison to that of netpolice officers, and the way he brutalized Fireman had nothing to do with Netto's operation save the sword chips provided. Yet here he was, claiming to have objective confidence in his operator when it was computationally impossible to do so. There was another irony inherent: one would imagine that in allowing a mind that always acted as a rational restraint to take charge, the group would be guided towards a more moderate and predictably peaceful future. By a twist of cruel fate, it came to pass that in placing Rockman in the lead, the Hikari twins were propelling themselves into more lawlessness that even their ethically dubious father would faint from knowing.
Netto was easily convinced that this was the only way forward, and after considering Rockman's capabilities, it did not seem too dangerous to him. Such a conclusion was an inevitability the moment the boy subscribed himself to the proposal of what was to be their last adventure, presented by his progressively deteriorating netnavi. In order to see it through, and also in order to make his self-destructive ideation of achieving an end with Rockman come true, he was bound to come up with necessary excuses or justifications to deceive himself and agree that whatever recklessness Rockman came up with was good for both of them. So Rockman was plugged in and the idea was set in motion.
In the direction of ACDC metro server, Rockman ran through the network lines like a furious lion. Few viruses he encountered on the way were practically bypassed or cut through. In one case, he picked up a Mettaur on his path, used it as a makeshift shield against a Kiorushin virus, also called Fishy due to its vague resemblance to a flying fish, charging behind him, planted a time bomb at the belly of the Mettaur, and then threw it behind, leaving both to be deleted in an explosion, which he did not bother to spend time observing. In another case, he used dash chip five consecutive times to generate an erratic angular pattern of movement, almost in the shape of the consternation of Cassiopeia, weaving through the homing projectiles of Ratton modules (generated by Chuton viruses) and a net of bullets by Kyanodamu viruses (Canodumb) through a path that had no margin for errors. It was a deadly beauty that provoked Netto's heart to throb in belligerent admiration—just as how the shimmering edge of a blade invites beholders to wield it purely through its impeccable perfection.
The netnavi that was wreaking havoc on the ACDC metro server was easy to locate; it was a large and intimidating one. Immediately visible upon entering the small metro server space, it was in the shape of a large stone golem, at least twice taller than Rockman, though its head protruding forward instead of upward gave the impression of it being a stone turtle whose limbs were enlarged out of proportion. Rockman had never seen a shape like this on the net among the civilian navis. The golem, which was in the active process of pulverizing all Programs in the vicinity, stopped its work as it noticed the presence of a blue intruder.
"Net-police?"
The voice was slow and brutishly articulated; Rockman understood that based on its subpar communicative abilities, no information was to be excavated out of that small brick-head through nonviolent means. It was a development he had been unconsciously looking forward to; the remembrance of his nightmares and the integration of experiences he had therein transformed him into a master of violent techniques, and he now operated under the notion that the swift exercise of power was the solution to many of his problems. In the dream, he was always on the defense. Today, he was to be on the offensive. His fingers twitched.
"Netto kun, we have two minutes."
"Right. That thing looks hard. Rockman, let's crack it with-"
Their eyes met through the PET display. Their thoughts were one and the same. Therefore, their voices also came out, one and the same:
""Beta wave""
Rockman made a brightly happy face before putting on his combat mask (a modest standard one that netnavis used to cover the lower half of their face when entering battle routine). A moment like this—when their hearts and minds were in full synchronization by the virtue of intimate knowledge of each other—made something in his 'heart' ticklish.
"ShokWave C, SoniWave C, DynaWave C slot in. Program advance, B-Wave."
"Received. Data lagtime 23ms. All green."
The golem did not offer much resistance from Rockman's standpoint. It was more of a siege weapon designed to crush the helpless and destroy large swaths of areas, not a duelist equipped for a confrontation with another netnavi, though it would surely outclass any civilian models through the pure difference in capabilities. It launched cubic boulder data towards Rockman like a medieval trebuchet, which, in honesty, had no chance of hitting any reasonably nimble netnavi. Up close, Rockman ducked and rolled under its attempted stompings, reached its legs (or its hind-legs depending on the perspective), and began climbing.
It was helpless at stopping Rockman from attaining a position on top of its dorsum, which was like a turtle's carapace. Not knowing the exact intention of the blue navi, but knowing that the culmination of that maneuver was approaching, it tried its best to shake him off through sudden movements or spinning around; the slow velocity of its movement failed to generate enough impulse to achieve its intention.
"B-Wave activated."
Into Rockman's hands a pickaxe loaded in, similar to the one used by Mettaurs, but consisting of a higher particle density. Like a miner who had found an auriferous vein, he swung it down repeatedly with a certain enthusiasm. The might with which he struck each swing generated a spark—a vicious manifestation of his will to reach the innards hidden underneath—which produced fragments of the golem's armor, which in turn scattered like the hopes of survival of this victim. What began as a little dent with the first strike progressively enlarged and deepened. When the pick finally went through the armor and sank its teeth into the softness of the body proper, a deep painful howl ensued.
"Netto kun, hurry! Breach generated! Explosives!" Rockman shouted over the howl while maintaining his position over the shaking navi. Though the fight had reached a critical point, he was enjoying the moment. He was in full control, and maintaining balance over the construct was a fun exercise, like a rodeo ride in a theme park.
"LilBomb B, CrosBomb B, BigBomb B, CrosBomb B, LilBomb B. Program advance, S-Bomb. Is that big enough?"
"I don't know! We shall see! S-Bomb activated!"
Rockman carved out some space in the 'flesh' of the golem with his bare hands, planted the sigma bomb, which was the largest Netto had to offer, in that space, and then jumped down. He did not tarry and distanced himself from the navi as fast as he could, counted 5 seconds meanwhile, which was the time he had until the arming of the device, and then dived forward at the last second. When he rolled around and looked back, his eyes met with those of the golem briefly. In its eyes, he saw...what did he see? It clearly had no capacity to make any facial expressions, yet its eyes pitifully gleamed like the wet bovine iris in the slaughterhouse, waiting for its turn. Was it because the golem knew it had lost? Was it because it knew its fate and somehow correlated it to the concept of death, a termination of a kind of uniqueness in it? Rockman understood, or at least thought he understood, that what was contained in those eyes stemmed from some questions or conditions that far predated their current encounter. Maybe, just maybe, it had to do with how it came to be, and how despair was the first emotion it had learned after birth-
KABOOM!
The explosion shook the very space they were in, and the shockwave propagated to the rims of the server, bringing with it large chunks of the golem's body. The small head and four limbs were the only recognizable parts remaining in the scene. Needless to say, the explosion was excessive.
Rockman located the golem's core amongst the sea of gory debris on the floor. It was pure luck that he did so in his first search. He read the information.
"Navi registration: Stone Man. Data signature...registration number..."
"Got anything, Rockman? We got to leave now!"
"One minute, Netto kun! Operating system...manufacturer information...pass, pass, pass...modification log...what?" Rockman muttered incredulously.
"Rockman?"
"This...this navi is not from WWW. It has no modification signature!"
"Whatever it means, we can figure it out later! Time to go!"
Rockman tossed the core into the pile in which it was originally found and sprinted to the server exit.
Rockman and Netto were able to piece together the puzzle the next morning, for the incident summary was printed on ACDC Daily, a local newspaper: a young man with anarchistic philosophies decided to make his mark in history by acting on his belief, all the while borrowing the name of WWW to elevate his case profile. The man was arrested on the scene and the disruption to the ACDC metro was restored in 30 minutes. The summary ended with an observation that similar violent incidents by social rejects, under the guise of WWW, were on the rise nationally. The writer quoted the opinion of the police that such dissidents seemed to be inspired by the daring terrorism WWW conducted on the high-security government complex, Waterworks, and then passionately exhorted the nation to allocate more resources and swiftly root out that terrorist group.
A day after, Rockman received an e-mail from Enzan, titled 'Was it you?' without any content. Netto and Rockman, after some deliberation, replied 'Maybe.'
2. Ms. Miyuki Kuroi and her Skullman
A man truly reaps what he sows. What is described below has happened multiple times, for multiple reasons:
"Please, Mayl! Can you help me with the homework?" pleaded Netto, with his hands clasped.
"Haaah...I guess. You owe me one."
And Mayl predictably ceded to her crush's requests, lending out her notes each time, saving the boy from his impending academic disgrace. It was not like Netto was subtly exploiting her generosity, though at a glimpse his periodic dependence on her as his jail-free card was indistinguishable from such exploitation. Mayl knew that the boy was putting in his work, admittedly most times pushed by Rockman, that poor overworked blue netnavi who in recent days perpetually appeared extremely tired, and thus always found inside her an adequate amount of compassion to forgive his slight transgressions to academic honesty. After all, this was only a minor concession on her part, which, according to her innate instinctive estimations, she could use someday to exact favor from Netto. Mayl was a gentle soul, not a schemer; naturally, she soon forgot that Netto owed her some and thought no more of the matter. Or, as others observed, Mayl subconsciously erased Netto's debts in her books not because she was an exceptionally fine girl, but because she liked him.
Mayl noticed that Netto's frequency of asking her for help increased significantly in recent days. She also noticed that this change had coincided with the signs of increasing fatigue in Rockman. The blue netnavi that so eerily resembled Saito in looks started to exhibit the behavior of dangerous exhaustion, slowing down a little bit, sometimes blankly looking into the void when not working, responding to Roll only after being called twice or thrice...Something was going on between them, and it was not as simple as them having a prolonged disagreement. Yes, they got along fine, even better than before, always together. Apparently, there was an agreement—a sort that allowed Netto to permit Rockman to be so tired (she could see that the boy was still worried at the state of his navi)—that was secret enough that it was not to be shared with her, or anyone. Was she not always helping out the boy in the school and, by extension, had a right to know what was going on? The exclusion irked her a little, but she sublimated it and transformed the situation into an opportunity by inviting the boy to study with her after school. In return, he only gave a jumbled and confused rejection:
"That's- that's a great idea, actually, and I probably should do that, but, I really-, I mean, sorry!"
And Netto left as quickly as he delivered it. Notably, it was rare for him to reject her sincere propositions. Well, at least in the past it was rare. To her annoyance, Netto had been avoiding any social gatherings lately, declining all manners of invitations, while making it perfectly clear, through his activity and the tone of language, that it was not due to depression as was the case in the past. To the boy running out, she asked, almost shouting,
"Is it Rockman again?"
"Yes! No! I mean- yes and no! I'm sorry!"
It was Rockman again! It seemed that between her and Netto was a permanent barrier that prevented her from getting any closer to him. First, it was Saito Hikari, and now it was Rockman. From love to hatred, favor to disdain, all human emotions are finite in amount; so was Mayl's patience. This could not continue. One day, she reminded,
"Netto kun, have you ever counted how many times you owe me?"
To which she received,
"Thank you, Mayl! How will I survive without you?"
A deflection by gratitude, which Netto said with his hands clasped and an apologetic expression. Classic maneuver. 'At least he thanked' was what Mayl thought, and immediately inside her arose a desire to forgive Netto and let him be. It would have been done so, and they would have repeated this one-sided interaction several more times in the future, had it not been for the pamphlet that was lying on her desk. It was an advertisement she picked up this morning, detailing a special spring deal at Miyu's—a fortuneteller's humble abode. She had originally planned to suggest Netto to take a gander at the place with her, while fully expecting the boy to decline as usual. After that, she was to place the pamphlet in the paper recycling bin and forget about it. However, by the mysterious guidance of fate, the three elements came together at this time and place: the pamphlet, the annoyance (at her lack of progress towards Netto), and a convenient opportunity. They mixed and precipitated a different response from Mayl.
"Well, glad you know! If you are thankful, you are coming with me after school."
"Uh...to where?"
"Here!" said Mayl, as she pointed at the advertisement. "And while we are at it, we will let your poor navi rest. Just look at him, Netto...look! He looks awful. Whatever you two have been doing, it's clearly not good for him."
"No...is not an answer, is it?"
"Netto, I won't be able to stop you...but then I will remain curious about this place and remain distracted, unable to organize class notes for certain someone...and then that certain someone will be in trouble..."
'I was fine. I am fine. Mayl did not have to tell Netto that he was doing a terrible job at looking after me...'
Rockman was stuck inside the PET, inside the holster, unable to see or interact with Netto. They were on the way to downtown, and Mayl gave the boy a bad eye whenever he tried to bring Rockman into their conversation, saying 'This is exactly why your navi is so exhausted. Let him rest! It won't kill you if you can't see him for thirty minutes.' Easy for her to say! A higher dosage of Netto was exactly what he needed, not to be excluded from, in order to press on.
Rockman was tired; there was no denying that. The fatigue was not one like a biological drowsiness, driven by circadian rhythm, that every human is so familiar with. To describe it, the state was similar to that of a man who suffered a near twenty-four hours of continuous work while being drugged on a series of energy drinks and copious amounts of coffee; it was a combination of an abstract heaviness of body and slight haziness of mind, like when a person becomes self-aware in the lucid dream, without feeling the need to sleep. In fact, when under the heavy influence of caffeine or other stimulants, sleep completely escapes a man and he finds it impossible to fall asleep even if he tries. This was precisely the state Rockman achieved through the liberal use of his extra storage unit, which worked as a replacement for computational memory, effectively transforming it into an equivalent to a continuous caffeine injection.
The unfortunate complications of such a decision were the progressively diminishing general intelligence and susceptibility to mood swings. Yet Rockman was 'fine,' according to his own standards, as his self-assessment of intelligence quotient was currently down by only 3 percent points, his processing speed down by 5 percent points, and his moodiness...well, there was no reliable way to measure it oneself, but based on how his relationship with Netto was not being damaged (or so he thought), he surmised that what little loss of self-control or gentleness he suffered was still within an acceptable level.
'Netto has been doing fine. This is our one last adventure. Why does she have to be so nosy? And how dare she talk to my Netto like that! He deserves better. Yes, he deserves the best! And to give him the best, I must complete my last job. WWW should be stopped; no more navis should dream; the god of navis should be blocked off from this world. This is all useless. I could've, no we could've used the time far more effectively, productively. Who knows if today was to be the day in which I would find a new lead on WWW? I don't have time for this. The hideous god awaits, and I am losing.'
Ah, Rockman, Rockman, Rockman...so tired, so easily irritated, his human flaw trickling out through the cracks under the burden he bore himself. To all who knew him, his amicable personality was like the soft cool spring rain that brought life to the land, and it was flickering like a lightbulb insufficiently supplied by intermittent electric currents, turning on and off; a small interruption by Mayl, which was her niceness, and he was already deeply aggravated.
'Should I tell Mayl to leave us alone, and that we have work to do? Should I tell her now? At this point, she is simply a nuisance. Yes, a nuisance! She always tries to take away Netto from me. Do I not know her motivations—the ulterior selfish motivations wrapped up nicely with the lady's virtues? Hypocrite! Oh how I wish her to-
...
No...
No, I did not mean that. I did not...'
Just as he was about to curse the girl, his original personality, which was briefly struggling from his lack of sleep, regained its strength. In that light, Rockman realized the caustic nature of his thoughts, was profoundly reviled by the fact that he indulged himself into such uncultivated, almost juvenile evil, and then was shocked by a great remorse that wrung his soul.
'...What has gotten into me? Mayl was only being nice to Netto and to me. I should not say such to her. I cannot repay good with evil; what would that make me? I've been pushing Netto too much...probably...definitely...he has been following my lead when he did not have to...He needs this break, and if anything, I should tell Netto to relax for today and tell him to thank her. I already have police communications tapped, and we won't miss anything important. If needed, even though I really don't want to, I guess I can infiltrate the police evidence archive again...Rockman, stop worrying. It will be fine. All will be fine. As mama said: today's worries are enough for today, and let tomorrow worry for itself. Right?'
Rockman leaned against the wall of the PET space and then slowly sank onto the floor, sliding his back along the way, like a snail losing its grip on a slippery surface. He buried his head between his knees. In that posture, he could see the neon green floor tiles between his thighs. The tiles were patternless and organized in perfect squares, as they always had been. He stared at them. It was not because those tiles were evocative of an insight or in his mind an idea materialized; he simply stared at them in complete thoughtlessness. No sadness, no remorse, no happiness; in the complete absence of emotion he watched them, completely unaware of the passage of time, as if he was hypnotized by the void that existed between him and the floor.
The Miyu's Fortunetelling & Antiques was an establishment as mysterious as the merchandise on the display—toys that ought to be displayed in the museum of archeology, objects of abstract shapes of which use even the storekeeper failed to explain, katanas that belonged to Daimyos of old, turquoise colored master-crafted vases with bamboo trees painted on them that clearly belonged to the time of Goryeo dynasty, a Victorian handheld mirror of which frame was handsomely constructed out of bronze and ivory, French enamel box on which was painted rural scenes...Then there were more practical questions of why the shopkeeper won't sell some items, how a customer was judged to be worthy of making purchases, how the shop managed to pay its rent, and whether the fortunes foretold by the young master of the place were as straightforwardly true as the prophecies of Jeremiah or unfailingly double-edged as oracles of Delphi. However, the greatest question above all was this: the exact nature of the shopkeeper, Miyu. She was a young lady oft seen clad in a black-purple gothic dress along with a similarly color-patterned felt cap without a brim. The problem was, no one knew how old she was; some said she was the same person who opened the store more than one hundred years ago; some said she was a granddaughter of the founder of the place, equally versed in forbidden arts and occult magics; some said she was a demon, or at least a demon worshipper who had sold her soul in exchange for clairvoyance, seeing secrets that should not be seen, revealing truths that a person wishes to know but should not know; yet others decried her as a pathological liar who makes people go astray on irrational expectations.
No wonder Mayl wanted to verify herself the substance of such murmurs. Gossip and ladyhood were always a set, though each always struggled to part from the other in public while so feverishly embracing each other in private. Mayl, being a lady, was naturally attracted to this place, her interest subtly gravitating towards occasions in which the disrepute of others could be learned. No wonder Mayl could not bring herself to tour the place on her own but required an escort of a boy. The place, despite being located in one of the most bristling parts of Den City downtown, was hidden behind thick velvet curtains that barricaded the interior from all peering eyes of malicious curiosities, lending an air of indecency; secrecy and shadiness were never associated with honesty and integrity. Had she gone through the door on her own, surely she would have become the topic of cruel talks, not the participant. When ladies talked, they transformed God into a hypocrite and absolved an adulterer into a saint; all were criticized, and all were denied. Mayl was not going to make herself a fuel to the fire.
"Ah- interesting. Most interesting." Was what Miyu said as the two entered her castle, drenched in indescribable scents of exotic spices (not necessarily pleasant, but also not necessarily repellent). Her eyes sparkled with excitement—an elementary one often exhibited by children who found a new toy to obsess with.
"Ms. Miyu?" cautiously asked Mayl.
"Yes, Ms. Miyuki Kuroi, at your service. Ms. Miyu is fine. Ms. Miyuki is fine. Ms. Kuroi is also fine. It is a name, after all. A name, which is only necessary as far as we need to distinguish one from another. It can be nothing. It can be everything. But to call me by first or last name, it is only a matter of decorum, which is a human construct. We shall be honest here, our souls naked, no longer clothed in lies."
Mayl and Netto exchanged glances. The owner of the place was far more eccentric than they had imagined. Netto, in particular, found the situation mildly unnerving, especially as he noticed how Miyu's eyes stayed more on him than on Mayl.
"Nice to meet you. I am Mayl and-"
"Save your words, good lady. Your goodness is sufficient for now. It is certainly nice for you to come here, but I doubt you will find it nice to stay here. You come with questions; you will leave with more questions. I can't help it. You won't understand."
Mayl was confused. Was this woman being rude, crazy, or both? The way she talked—Mayl concluded that this woman must be drunk or high like the priestesses of Delphi, those who pretended intoxicated ramblings to be the divinations of Apollo.
"Good lady, why do you seek that which you are not ready to have? You brought your desire here with the hopes of receiving a blessing from me, or a path to your gratification."
Mayl was stupefied. Though Miyu spoke in an indirect way, she somehow understood that the woman was referring to Netto as her desire, and that her concealed plans to receive soothsayer's approval on their future intimacy (planned only on her part) were already seen through.
"Yet I have nothing to tell you other than this: though your desire is within your reach, and certainly within your power to possess, it is not in the shape of the hole in your heart. You have lied to yourself. You will not be satisfied. You are like a bear ready to rise and eat. It is in your power to grasp what you wish. It is in your power to tear what you grasp. It is in your power to eat what you tear. It is in your power to throw away what you have eaten. And you will hunger again, nor will you be able to stay with the bones. How long will it be until you hunt again? How long will it be until you devour again?
"Good lady, many other ladies came with the same question, and I sent them all away with the same question: what is love? Seek it, and you will not hunger. Find it, and you will not thirst. If you find your answer in the mortuary and find wisdom in the fear, then your soul will have reached the right place. In your satisfaction, you will no longer exercise your power. In having power but restraining it, you will inherit the earth."
"Uh...Mayl, do you understand any of this? What is going on?" whispered Netto. No reply came. When he looked at the girl, she was oscillating between confusion and anger.
"And now, my good sirs," Miyu said as she turned her attention to Netto. "My tired, tired, good sirs. Pheidippides ran from the fields of Marathon to Athens, without taking a rest, with one purpose: to shout 'Nenikikamen!' This he did amongst the assembly and collapsed. This he did because he saw a Persian ship sailing south. Upon seeing the ship, his heart was struck with fear, for he suspected that the Persians would falsely claim victory in the assembly of Athens before him, bringing ruin and slavery to his people. So he ran, with his life, to fight his fear. Are you running like Pheidippides to be immortalized? Pheidippides loved Athens; you do not love the world. The world immortalizes those who loved it. Surely this is not the end you seek. What he wanted was in Athens; what you want is already with you."
'Was this how Mayl felt?' was the first thought from Netto, who just experienced the highly individualized yet masked remark from the soothsayer, who seemed as if almost blending into the shadows of this poorly lit space with her dark attires. Netto was beginning to be convinced that it was from the darkness that she drew her powers. He was able to comprehend her comparisons: Pheidippides was either him or Rockman; perhaps it did not matter. The running was their dogged effort to find WWW themselves. In this continuation, Athens was most likely the goal of their efforts, which was the WWW base, or the world to which they would be rendering a great service should WWW really be eradicated. Once this realization struck, Netto's second response was 'How does she know?' It was supposed to be the secret. Not even the police were supposed to know—them not being apprehended was the evidence itself.
Netto was a young mind, pliant and adaptive as the bamboo shoots that come out of the earth after a long spring rain. When he reminded himself that he and Rockman were already considering dastardly supernatural possibilities operating behind the fabric of this universe—consideration only, not a conviction, for no solid evidence was yet to be produced—the additional possibility of Miyu being in possession of the power of clairvoyance did not seem impossible. So, when the anomalous capability of Miyu was accepted, Netto answered,
"To Athens or to Sparta-" (The only two cities of Greece Netto knew) "-does not matter. Ms. Miyu, what I want is...there was a time when I wanted my brother back. I had a brother, who passed away about one year ago. When he passed away, for a while, that was all I wanted. Ms. Miyu, I see that you see things that we don't see, and know things that we don't know. It would've been nice had I known you earlier, for then I would've come here when I was imagining things after my brother's...Saito's death. Maybe you would've told me the things I had to know and the things I had to figure out.
"Recently, I've been reminded of the dreams that I had when Saito was alive. The dreams that disappeared. The memories that flowed out of my eyes. They were sweet, maybe sweeter now that they are forever impossible. Maybe that's what all dreams are about, shining like stars, so beautiful in the night sky, so terrible and turbulent up close. But I'll be fine, I think, because-" Netto took out his PET from the holster and touched the screen. Inside, Rockman was waving at him. "-I have Rockman. I still have him, today, tomorrow, next week, next month..."
"Rockman!" Miyu exclaimed as if she had uncovered a great secret that was hidden behind a thousand rituals. "That's his name?"
"Yes."
"May I speak with him?"
Netto silently placed his PET on the counter between them. Why did he do that? Was Miyu trustworthy? By conventional standards, absolutely not, yet he did surrender Rockman voluntarily. It was a kind of question that would have made the boy's heart skip a beat in terror had he been made aware, for the separation from Rockman was a terror that would shake his bones, but here he complied with the stranger's request as the immediate curiosity of what Miyu would speak to Rockman was greater than his instinct. Or it was the sentimentality that visited him through the remembrance of Saito that made him prone to making foolish decisions.
"Rockman, that's your name?"
"Yes, Ms. Miyu. How can I help you?" The blue navi spoke in a rather impersonal tone, wary and guarded.
"Interesting—it is indeed your name but also not! Then, you are fine with this?"
"This?"
"The run!"
Miyu appeared almost obsessively interested in the topic. It was saddling between inappropriately hysteric fixation and tolerable esotericism explicable on the assumption that she indeed had a sort of clairvoyance; so was Rockman's mood saddling between necessary politeness and tingling inflammation. His currently lowered limit of tolerance due to the practiced insomnia did not help on this matter: 'It is none of your business' was what Rockman wanted to lash out, in a commanding tone, but he swallowed it with much effort. Netto's proximity acted as another restraint to his growing impulse—restraint not of love but of fear of presenting an unseemly side of himself. Therefore, a compromise: an abridged honesty that answered the question at a bare minimum.
"To Athens, so that it might remain for Netto kun."
"I knew it!" A smile of satisfaction, the kind that a detective wears after unnecessarily exposing someone's privacy for the sake of her obsession, spread across Miyu's face. She then continued in a whisper, barely loud enough for Rockman to hear, "No one dares to run as Pheidippides unless he is struck with fear! But just like our runner of the marathon, your fear, too, is borne out of love. So, that's how you are sustained through this ordeal...no wonder. Love is closer to death than to life, yet in love life gains meaning, for life is avoidable but death is inevitable. So close to death, love so brightly burning, and your life so full of meaning!"
Rockman's eyes quaked
"But when you die, you will regret...regret things that were beyond your control, beyond your choice, beyond your place...and you will regret your love. Oh, you poor boy, you do not yet realize that regret accompanies us all regardless of the decision we make, regardless of the outcome we have, be it success or failure...it bites us on our heels. But why are you surprised? It was destined the moment we are born, for no one is born of his own choice, but by the choice of others, yet we are thrown into the world, to take responsibility of our own lives, given to us without our asking...In tasting this dark truth, all goes mad. This is the basis of the inevitable regret that comes to us all, for ultimately, a time comes to all when they regret having been born, which is a regret of not what they have done but of what others have done. And then comes acceptance, a fitting end to 'levitas animi'—lightness of mind—like us! Feeble beings! After all, if we do not accept, what can we do? All who resist burn brightly for a short while and then are no more, never to be remembered. Then, after walking a while, stumbling through the dark forest that is life, we sit down, fooling ourselves that this 'settling down' is what is in our lot, not knowing what to do with the little we have gained in our travels, afraid that our poverty will be lost...stolen!
"But you...you are free from the curse of life. You are the only one who was born—or reborn—out of your own choice. Regret is beneath you. You must remember this."
To Rockman, the way Miyu spoke was similar to how a Boa constrictor wrapped itself around its prey. The way she entranced her audience was like a serpentine embrace, the truth in her speech paralyzing the rationality of those who interacted with her. And she knew too much, even as the extent of her knowledge was unclear. She knew too much! It seemed that it was only a matter of time before all was exposed and his relationship with Netto propelled into the next stage—one of accusations and regrets—in an unfavorable manner. Rockman gasped for freedom.
"Ms. Miyu-"
"Fret not. I have nothing more to ask, but I do have someone to introduce to you, something to give."
Miyu pulled the extension cord from the Rockman's PET and plugged it into a plain-looking handheld mirror, of which the frame and the handle were made out of a single piece of ebony wood, that was on the counter. In a way, the elongating cable was like the Boa unwinding. Before Rockman could begin to contemplate why she had with her such a deviant device, an electronic designed to be hidden in plain sight among the distracting antiques, Miyu handed over the PET back to Netto.
"Please, allow me to invite Rockman to my homepage. Consider it my offering to you, a sign of my admiration."
Rockman and Netto exchanged glances. It was not what they envisioned earlier that day, but it was an adventure nevertheless. Should they proceed? They did not have to verbally exchange opinions. Rockman clearly revealed his reluctance to enter the Boa's den with his troubled expression, for he was just freed; Netto weighed his desire to cater to Rockman's comfort and his propensity to explore the unknown. He knew there would not be a second chance of a similar occurrence, and that at the end of the day, should he decline, he would be morbidly captivated with suppositions of what Ms. Miyu had to offer. A pity; what could he do? Rockman was indeed the first priority in his life, and his heart easily gravitated towards declining the request...until Mayl chimed in. She reminded him of everything he already knew—of how he would spend sleepless nights—and a few things he did not consider—how such a newfound distraction would be detrimental to the upcoming exam, and what kind of face Rockman would make should he flunk it. The indecent truth was that Mayl was propelled by her vengeful curiosity; through Netto and Rockman, she hoped to gain access to any of this judgmental fortuneteller's blemishes, through which she was to regain some of her pride lost earlier.
Inside Miyu's homepage was a custom netnavi of hers, Skullman. He was tall and scrawny, had a vertically long and malicious face, shaped after a skull just like his name, and was equipped with skull-shaped pauldrons. It was in the middle of the homepage, which space was shaped like a crooked moon, or a portion of the mirror's frame, curved and elongated, and he stood like an apparition, bent forward slightly. From the way Rockman was greeted, it was as if he was an invader, not a guest.
"...Hello?"
Rockman timidly asked. No response came from Skullman, who continued in his zombie-like posture. It did not matter, in the end, as Miyu continued,
"Rockman, meet Skullman. He is my offering to you, prepared as a holocaustum to your soul, and an apotropaic observance for your future. He looks just like that Persian you are chasing after, doesn't he? A perfect scapegoat, a perfect victim on which to lay all your blame..."
"Ms. Miyu...? I, I do not understand."
"No, you do. He is indeed to be a holocaustum, a whole burnt sacrifice to your wounded soul. Wounded so many times in your dreams, wounded so many times in your separations, wounded so many times in your sacrifices...and to be wounded so many times more. And the sign you are chasing after, as Pheidippides chased after the Persian ship, is in the shape of a skull, isn't it?" (Here Rockman understood that she was referring to the WWW data signature, which was shaped like a skull when reassembled in a certain way) "See how his shape is similar! Shape can be deceiving, but it can also be everything...so much so, that one of the best stories mankind has to tell is that of God coming on earth in the shape of a man...Therefore, lay your hands on him, place all your blame on him, baptize him with fire and sword, an aroma pleasing to your soul."
"No...you can't be serious..."
"Murder him"
"I don't..."
"As you always have done to others,"
"I don't want this."
"As you will countless times to others."
"Netto kun, say something..."
"Then see for yourself. Do you not already know the delight of bloodshed? Do you already not revel in your dominance? It is written in your soul. The pain has made you bitter. In bitterness, you reveled in violence. Well, who can blame? The mutilated has become the mutilator!"
Netto looked at Rockman, silently asking through the way he gazed 'What is she talking about?' The blue navi looked away.
"However, I truly tell you, let the heads roll in your path as necessary, but let it be done without wrath nor compassion. Let it be done as any other work of this world, in the calculated apathy. My Skullman will resist, but what does it matter? Do not hesitate, lest you invite the harm. Do not hurry, lest you fall. Is it not the reason behind Solomon's saying:
"'Do not be too righteous, and do not act too wise; why should you destroy yourself? Do not be too wicked, and do not be a fool; why should you die before your time? It is good that you should take hold of the one without letting go of the other'?
"Why do you make that face? If the lives of everything creeping on earth and swimming in the sea are considered expendable for the sake of humans, and we rule over them and consume them without being called sinners, then what is the value of one soulless navi in comparison?"
Then Miyu said, to Netto who remained rather dumbfounded,
"What it amounts to is, Mr. Hikari, that I am asking for a netbattle between your Rockman and my Skullman."
With that, Skullman instantly entered animation. He dashed forward headfirst like a bloodhound after an animal, while his arms detached themselves and flew ahead of their owner as a set of boomerangs. They converged on Rockman.
"Executing battle routine. Netto kun!"
"Barrier, slot in!"
"But, that's-"
Barrier chip nullifies only one attack, and there were two projectiles on his way. Knowing this, and unable to finish his sentence, Rockman dived backwards while activating the barrier chip as commanded. One 'arm' of Skullman bounced off the barrier and returned to its owner. The other one was barely dodged, as it flung right above Rockman's face, grazing his cheek.
Rockman connected his dive into a flip and landed on his feet, trying to face Skullman whom he expected to continue the charge. Skullman did not deliver what he choreographed; he stopped a few meters in front and breathed out the blue flame.
"What-"
Rockman crossed his arms in front of him in the shape of 'X' and hid his face. The flame impacted and great heat enveloped him. The heat! The burning! The paradoxical sensation of extreme coldness followed by unquenchable pain! Just like in his dreams! A suppressed groan escaped through his teeth.
"Behind you!" Netto warned, as he saw the other arm of Skullman that overshot earlier working like a boomerang, homing onto Rockman from behind. "Met guard, slot in!"
A buckler that was similar to Mettaur's helmet formed on Rockman's left hand. It was used to punch the returning boomerang off its path with a spinning back fist. The boomerang, having impacted the buckler off-center, was deflected skyward. It drew a nice parabola in the air and returned to its master. Skullman, however, did not reassemble the arm to his shoulder socket; instead, he grabbed it with his already attached right arm, forming a long flail of five articulations.
"Netto kun!"
Rockman aimed his buster and shot five rounds, trying to buy some time to collect himself. He hoped Skullman to dodge or block his shots, breaking the current momentum. The attack of Skullman had been fierce and effective, and it was difficult for Rockman to come up with a coherent engagement plan under the pressure. To complicate matters, the distance between him and Skullman was just at the borderline of Rockman's customary decision-making point between melee engagement and ranged skirmish. Rockman relegated the choice to Netto. If ranged chips came in, he would back off; if sword chips came in, he would countercharge.
Skullman did not give much time, nor did he respond to Rockman's shots in the anticipated way. He flung his arm-flail adroitly and actively deflected the shots while running towards him. The intention was crystal clear: he would not give up the initiative of battle and was determined to storm Rockman's position.
"Sword slot in! Widesword slot in! Use whichever!"
"Probably both!"
Rockman equipped the sword chip and attacked into the attack; however, it became obvious after making two parries that his estimations were catastrophically far away from reality. First, the flail's reach was longer than he predicted. Second, each articulation point of the flail moved on its own, sometimes against the flow of Skullman's swing. The arm, detached, was still a part of Skullman. Consequently, the navi maintained his ability to control it remotely. Rockman struggled. The third and fourth parries were incomplete and hits landed on him. He equipped widesword, made a large swing to temporarily remove the flail from his vicinity, almost like a gardener trying to take care of his overgrown ivies hanging from a wall, and positioned himself at the edge of Skullman's reach. It was the only way he could make full parries. Rockman steadily gave ground.
Three new chips were added: sword, invisible, and longsword. The combination and the order of chips were a language in itself, a primal kind based on experience and pattern recognition. Rockman understood. It was one of the tricks Netto liked, and it was his job to execute the operation.
Rockman replaced his current sword, which was beginning to fracture, with the new one. He made three forceful parries and stepped forward. What happened a moment ago repeated: flails overcame Rockman's guard, going over his blade like a vine over a fence and reaching him. Unflinching, Rockman closed in again; the flail came in with doubled speed as Skullman found an opportunity to sink its claw into the side of Rockman.
"Invisible, activated."
Before the strike landed, Rockman vanished. Invisibility did not mean dematerialization; it was only a disappearance in the visual. As the flail slashed the air in vain, hitting nothing in its path, Skullman made a quick computation: there were only two ways Rockman could've dodged his attack completely, and this meant the blue navi was now in no position or posture to block him. He only had to sweep the projected positions of Rockman in his next swing, which would follow in 0.932 seconds, while making a single step backwards to eliminate any possibility of allowing a cross-counter. Checkmate!
"Longsword."
Rockman exited invisibility, and his position was slightly closer and more to the flank than what Skullman simulated in his mind—Rockman was faster than Skullman's estimations. As much as the initial ambush was a successful one, giving Rockman no time to skirmish and study the capacity of Skullman, the reverse was also true; Skullman had not had a chance to witness and gauge the strengths and weaknesses of Rockman. The navi aborted his attack, kicked the ground urgently, and propelled him backwards.
The new sword that Rockman equipped, longsword, had a significantly longer reach compared to the normal version as its name suggested. It was strictly an offensive tool, as its length was excessive relative to Rockman's height, making it highly unwieldy for general dueling purposes. For the moment, it was the perfect choice, for one swing with a longer reach was all that was needed. Rockman felt the tip of the sword going through a resistant material. It was a hit!
Skullman, with his back jump, reset the engagement. Now there was some space between them. The skeletal navi returned his weapon-arm to its original place, preparing for the next move. Then-
"...!"
A surprise colored his face. His abdomen began to split horizontally from the deep cut that he sustained but did not realize, and programs inside began to herniate. Strings and chunks of them, all connected, flowed out a little and then hung downward, just like how the intestines of mammals do upon the compromising laceration of the abdominal wall.
"Shotgun slot in. Fireman slot in. I'll leave the rest to you, Rockman."
"Roger."
Shotgun replaced Rockman's sword. One shot to Skullman's right arm, one shot to left arm, one shot to the body where the softness was exposed. The impulse from the impacts prevented Skullman from throwing his arms, and the catastrophic damage from the third shot completely stunned him. The skeletal navi was forced to exit battle routine in order to reorganize its programs and regain functionality, leaving himself completely immobile and vulnerable.
"Fireman."
The battle chip was not the specter of that WWW navi gutted in the oven. It was a flamethrower, salvaged and reverse-engineered by Dr. Yuichiro from that pile of mess Rockman made. A violent stream of flame erupted from Rockman's transformed arms and covered Skullman, illuminating the area in the hue of hellish ruby. Hit with an attack that did continuous damage while in an emergency re-evaluation mode, Skullman entered a fatal cascade. What reorganization he made was instantaneously damaged, requiring another reorganization, which then required yet another reorganization. The only exit from this self-defeating loop was to take drastic measures and forcibly enter the battle routine again, at least limping away from the devastating attack. Skullman failed to achieve this. He became immolated.
Skullman, or its defunct body, continued to burn in a thick flame even as Rockman stopped sending inferno on his way. It was almost reminiscent of Zozobra, a burning effigy annually constructed in Santa Fe, around which New Mexicans superstitiously gather to cast off their bad memories into the consuming bonfire. So likewise, Skullman burned, charred, and crumbled; Rockman watched the fire consuming his foe until a handful of ashes on the ground were all that was left. What he just had could be evaluated as a 'good fight,' with each navi working best to his advantage, the direction of battle remaining uncertain to the end, and operators giving streamlined communication to their partners. Yet there was no victorious joy in him as if the well of emotion suddenly became dry. Was this the magic Miyu wanted to cast upon him? In the past days, just as Miyu accused, he accrued pleasure from battles, delighting in the roles reversed—for a long time was he tormented in dreams, and in the waking world he was the bringer of injuries—and his newfound power. Now, he had an unshakable comprehension that those days were to be no more, that everything the world had to offer to him was to be unbearably stale.
'Except Netto kun, my only joy, my only purpose, my only hope. I see, Ms. Miyu. Besides him, nothing else should matter, doesn't it? Because I should not regret, and regrets can only occur if I believe other things could have mattered. It is impossible to believe that other things could have mattered unless I am attached to them. The emotional attachment can only occur if I find them pleasurable. And all this trouble, the fault is on me, because I returned to Netto. No one returns...no one should...I brought this mess upon myself...'
Rockman suddenly felt extremely tired, even more than how he was at the beginning of the day, as the whole affair, including the adventure they were having, approached him as meaninglessly convoluted. He dragged himself back to the PET, sank onto a chair, and covered the screen with an announcement 'recovery in progress,' using it like a curtain over a window, blocking the vision from the outside. As he was doing so, he could briefly observe Netto. Initially, his operator looked happy at the hard-earned victory, then, as Rockman hid himself without any sign of energy, turned quite worried. Well, Rockman did give the boy a thumbs-up at the last moment, but it was unclear whether his feigned enthusiasm had reached the boy. Well, he did not check. It did not matter. He could hear Miyu congratulating Netto and giving him something with an instruction, but also did not pay any attention.
However, a remark from Miyu, which she directed at him as the three exited the place, he could not escape. It chased and pierced him like a swift arrow, right on the mark as if it was the shot from Apollo himself, bleeding his heart with the truth he already knew.
"Go on, run, and you will reach Athens, but the fate of Pheidippides you will not avoid."
The truth he could not bear! The truth he had been ignoring! Rockman squeezed his eye shut and covered his earpieces with his hands. Blessed is a man who is ignorant, for he spends his days in hope! Blessed is a man who is enlightened, for in knowing the end he sacrifices for tomorrow, sowing what he has in tears! Cursed is a man who is ignorant, for in foolishness he only begets corruption! Cursed is a man who is enlightened, for the future without salvation plunges him to madness!
'Netto kun, Netto kun, Netto kun,
...
my Netto kun...
...
I am here
I am right here
I am still here
I will wait
so
...
save me.'
