Chapter 4: The Blasphemous Work

'Who am I without Saito niisan?'

It had been three months since the funeral and the answer was not even hinted. Netto was still lost in the dark. In the bible, in the story of the first recorded homicide, Cain told God, after killing his brother Abel "am I my brother's keeper?" Indeed, Netto was his brother's keeper. Netto guarded him like a loyal German Shepherd, constantly watching over him, always ensuring he was a good distance away from any and all potential dangers, never making an appointment without arranging a protection for him. Saito's HBD consumed the entire family; as the attacks got stronger, Saito lost the capacity to medicate himself in the midst of it. How many times he could have perished, and how many times Haruka and Netto saved him? He sometimes looked over his shoulder in class to check his brother's empty seat. It was a habit drilled into him through years of caretaking-a sore scar that constantly reminded him of what had been irrecoverably lost.

So Netto was his brother's keeper.

Taking care of him was a laborious commitment, yet Netto had embraced it as his duty and purpose. He never had a qualm against bearing this yoke that he never volunteered for. The work itself was the reward-for through this he earned the monopoly of Saito. His brother probably never knew or suspected how he was kept at an ambiguous distance from others. Netto made sure of this (a rather serpentine work) as every hour was too precious to share, and every future too uncertain. With Saito, there was never the luxury of 'there is always next year. We can do that next time.' Therefore, every moment of his, Netto claimed.

His purpose was no more.

"What is your dream?" the homeroom teacher, Ms. Mari, once asked the question to the class. She meant this as in "what profession do you want to choose for the future?". Saito occupied so much of his life, and he loved his brother so much, that the only dream he had at the moment was to live a long life together. Health to his brother and he would've not had any more wishes in his life. There was no room left in his brain to plan ahead for a profession. With Saito gone, the choice of profession appeared stale and meaningless even more than before. What was the point if none of his choices could grant him what he truly wanted-the undeath?

Netto learned from his parents that the code blue did not trigger in that fateful night. Had it been the case, would anything have turned out to be different? It was undeniable that there was a chance, albeit however slim, that Saito could've lived-a day, then a week, then a month-only if he did not sleep through like a worthless sloth. By head, Netto knew this sentiment was faulty in multiple aspects; by heart, the sense of guilt hovered like a storm cloud over him. He was living the life because he could not die. Saito wanted him to live on. He always did.

"Hey, you up for another netbattling session today?"

Dekao spoke from behind him. On the surface, it was a very inconsiderate proposition that should not be made to someone in mourning. In reality, this was the entirety of compassion Dekao could gather, and the poor delivery should be blamed on his pitifully meager social skill. Netto had not been quite himself for the past three months. There was a perpetual gloom on his face, tired tired eyes which indicated lack of sleep, was more frequently found lost in thought than being his past active self, and seldom mingled with others after the school curriculum. Netbattling had been the one activity of his that rather increased in frequency. Netto voraciously accepted every opportunity to participate, for in the moment of adrenaline and excitement he could forget the hole in his soul.

"Nah, I can't do that today"

Netto replied without looking back, disorderly stuffing his backpack with his belongings.

"Impossible!"
"Quite possible. My dad took my PET this morning."

"Oh...um...uh, it's not because of me, right?"

Netto finally looked at Dekao, with an expression of a person who just heard the most idiotic remark.

"No, of course not. Don't worry."
"Oh, okay then. See you, uh, tomorrow?"
"Yeah"

Netto finished packing and was ready to leave. He put on the backpack.

"Hey, Netto, want to hang out? We are making a quick trip to Den city, and you are welcome to tag along!"

That was Yaito Ayanokoji, a blond-haired girl who hailed from a wealthy Ayanokoji family of long history and tradition. Her height was the shortest in class, but that stemmed from the fact that she was also the youngest in the class. Her exceptional IQ allowed her to skip a few grades. Her countenance gave the impression of a permanently irritated, but her heart betrayed her face. She always looked after her classmates-called it noblesse oblige, although Netto was not sure if this was the correct application of the term.

"I'll-"

Netto hesitated for a moment; he sure did not want to go home early, but today he would rather be alone than be in a company.

"I'll pass"
"If you need company...please don't hesitate. We are always here for you."

This was Mayl, standing next to Yaito. They were going to the downtown together, and it was not difficult to guess that Yaito would be the one paying for the expenses. She would not have it otherwise. Netto knew all his friends meant well to him; somehow their compassion felt poisonous. Why was the love of his friends so hard to swallow? Netto, who was initially disturbed by his own caustic revulsion, thought about the phenomenon, and came to an answer: none of his friends actually mentioned Saito during the past months. They actively avoided mentioning him, as if he never existed in the first place. Well, it was partly Netto's own fault, as he immediately lost motivation for everything upon remembering his lost twin. The emptiness in his eyes during such moments frightened his friends multiple times. By erasing the existence of Saito, they hoped Netto would forget him, and thereby gain some strength. The potion of sweet amnesia they offered, but it was the exact opposite of what Netto wanted.

"k...but I'll be fine. I promise. See y'all tomorrow."

Friends could only stare at his back as he disappeared through the door. They all knew where he was headed, discussed whether Netto was depressed enough to put himself in danger, and then came to a consensus to leave him alone for today. Masa san, the fishmonger, was there, and he would not let Netto harm himself. Right?

.

.

Netto slid his way through the corridors of the school on his rollerblades. The use of this mode of travel was prohibited inside the building and with a sound reason of student safety, but Netto could not care less. He had to quickly move away from his friends before he was surrounded by their sympathies. Netto would not drink their amnesia. Netto would not forget. He was afraid, for he already sensed some memories losing lucidity. When Saito first passed away, all memories were so fresh, so vivid, so traumatic, that the very idea of misremembering them felt ludicrous. After three months-only three months!-the image of Saito's face had already decayed into an old decolorized painting. What he could recall before like a 4D movie, became a flat 2D image that was barely holding together. He should have believed when he heard that war veterans only remembered the first and the last kills they made. Everything in between got mixed up, both chronologically and factually. At this rate, he would be free from the ghost of Saito in another three months and would be completely cured of this depression. Once that happened, who would fill the vacancy in his heart? Whoever it may be, that person was sure to give him hope and courage to gaze at the future. He would start to dream. Netto already had a good idea who this might be; he did not like it. Netto of future would like it. The future Netto disgusted him.

Netto went through the schoolyard, through the sandy field on which he used to play soccer with his friends. He habitually scanned under the trees around the field, where Saito used to sit and watch him. The scanning was not out of a childish delusion that everything had been a simple nightmare. No, that phase was the first month after the funeral. Now he scanned to catch a glimpse of a hallucination-images from the past retrieved from the subconscious by giving the brain a similar signal-of Saito. Sometimes it succeeded and his eyes mistook the shadows of leaves as an outline of the one whom he sought. This time, he had no luck. He saw nothing.

Netto passed through the school gates. To where should he go? To home? Ah, home sweet home, full of memories of his lost brother. His personal belongings were still not discarded, and seeing them would surely poke some more holes in his heart, prolonging the depression. A tempting proposition, but Netto decided not to. Instead, he headed to loiter in the park, watch children who knew not yet the sorrow of life play with carefree happiness, and say hello to Masa san the fishmonger who had been like a neighbor to him the past three months.

The trip to the park took less than 3 minutes with wheels under the shoes. The same route would have taken around 10 minutes had he walked with Saito. Such details were irrelevant now. Netto sat on a bench under the shade of a tree and removed his bandana. A pleasant summer wind stole away the sweat on his brow. The date was June 9th; the daylight was getting unbearably hot.

'Tomorrow will be the last day of classes and the summer break will begin. It's also our...my birthday. Saito niisan, I had so many plans for tomorrow, you know?'

The swings in the park came into view. It was one of Saito's favorite places in ACDC, and watching the sunset on a swing his favorite activity. Netto would look at his face turning orange and then red according to the light of the sky. They would walk home in the dusk, before the dark.

'Saito niisan, my sweet sweet Saito niisan, did you find your swings in the heaven? Did you find sunset, your favorite sky, there too?'

'Fine,' Netto admitted to himself. He did not come here for a healing. He did not come here to speak to Mr. Masa-the balding fishmonger was over there, about 100 meters away, and Netto was in no hurry to go and say hello. He did not come here to chew the cud of recollection of Saito (as shocking as it is). He came here to kill time and not go home early.

Behavioral scientists, after observing the sibling dynamics of both animals and humankind, were quick to note this: that siblings often became competitive against each other in order to secure more attention from the caretakers. More attention equated to more resources alotted. More resources equated to higher chance of successful reproduction. In case of the Hikari family, the death of Saito had measured and revealed the twisted darkness inherent in their relationships: it was not Saito who was asking for attention, nor was he competing with his brother for one, but it was the others-all three of them-who were competing for the attention of Saito. Now that he was gone, the family was struggling to find a glue to hold them together.

The current mood of Hikari household was peaceful, but it resembled a poor imitation of an impressionist painting. The peace was so artificial that Netto found it suffocating. No one spoke about Saito, there was an absence of joy, and Yuichiro hid himself in the Scilab like a hermit. He barely visited the house past three months. Like a fuel station is to a car, so was the house to Yuichiro, or so it seemed at least. The urn of Saito's ashes stayed inside the parents' bedroom, but he had not seen it there since his mother would not let him in. However, in this case, the intention was not to help Netto move on. Rather, it was the result of each person-Haruka and Yuichiro included-triyng to become free from Saito in their own way. They were all trying to find a resolution, albeit failing miserably. On days when Netto came back from school early, he frequently found his mother in the bedroom with locked doors, crying pitifully and oblivious to the return of her remaining son. This was not to insinuate Haruka ever neglected Netto in any way. Contrary, she continued to do everything a good mother should do, encouraging him with love and optimism every day. It was just that she also happened to be a human who needed to pour out the deep personal sorrows when alone.

"Ho! Why such a long face?"

Mr. Masa found him. Netto was wishing he did not notice. Netto knew it was an unrealistic wish. It was easy to point him out in the crowd with his signature bandana and roller blades.

"Hello Masa san. It's nothing. I'm fine."
"Like hell if I believe you. You are not fine."

Masa deployed the kickstand on his bike and sat next to Netto. Fishy smell from the icebox on the bike cargo rack permeated the air.

"I know exactly who is on your mind. It's Saito, eh?"
"..."

Pity for the boy welled up in the heart of Masa. Sigh escaped between his teeth. His life was not an ideal one, full of hardships. He had seen his share of evils and suffered under the tyranny of men. He understood the boy, and precisely for this reason he did not know how to console this downtrodden soul. He could not be consoled when the tragedy struck him; the same had to be true for this boy.

"You know, it's really hard when a good person leaves you behind. I know. I've been there."

Netto's eyes fixated on him. Masa had the boy's attention.

"There is no cure but time. You know that. I know that. But you have to be strong."

"Because you have people waiting for you. And Saito would not want to see you keep them waiting now, would he?"

Netto's eyes shook. This was true. Saito certainly would not want to see him in this state. 'Well, if he wanted me to be strong, he should've stayed.' A childish tantrum. This was all the defense Netto could muster.

"Now, listen: I am only a fishmonger. I'm not smart, nor did I live an ideal life. The world had been tough on me and I saw some hard times. Very hard times. There is nothing to boast in me other than the hard honest work of mine, which got me to nowhere. Though, there is one thing I learned through all the failures and troubles."

Masa paused and looked up to the sky, trying to articulate the essence of his soul.

"It's...It's that you have to live for the others, not for yourself. You come to life with nothing and leave with nothing. All that is left behind is what you've done for others. Therein I found the meaning of life. Do not seek gratitudes, for then the work is done for yourself, not for others. Do you understand? God, do I suck at explaining big ideas."

Masa's eyes returned to Netto to continue

"What this means is, don't let what Saito left behind in this world be just a boy stuck in a mess. You are mourning, but is that for yourself, for Saito, or for your friends?"

Dead has no want for anything. Friends hadn't been too subtle with their agenda. Netto already had this question asked and answered by himself. He was just refusing to admit it.

"Masa san...but I don't want to forget. It feels like-"

Masa interrupted.

"a betrayal?"
"-yes."
"A betrayal would be doing what a deceased did not want. Forgetting is healing. It's how humans heal from the past. We only remember the good and throw away the bad. Otherwise, we will all go crazy."

Masa stood up from the bench. He opened the icebox while continuing his talk.

"Don't you worry too much, the time will solve everything, as it did for all people before us. Tomorrow is your birthday, isn't it? Here, I know exactly what a growing boy like you need: a bit of calcium for the growing bones. Take these!"

Two mackerels were tossed on Netto's laps.

"Ack!"

Netto somehow managed them from sliding onto the ground. Mr. Masa gave him a broad smile, waved hand, and then rode away. Netto sighed and helplessly watched Mr. Masa's back. The two fresh yet slimy fish were still in his hands. Their dull lifeless eyes reflected the face of Netto. Oh how their eyes were like his. What a pathetic person had he become. Life went on without Saito, and he could not dwell in the past forever. Even so,

'But I am not ready to forget you.'

Without Saito, Netto was just an academically failing boy, living in the ACDC town, without any plan for the future. Saito was special; Netto was not. At least he now knew what today's dinner menu would be.

.

.

"Good work today, too, take care."
"You too, Dr. Yuichiro. Do you have any final requests before I round up for the day?"

The secretary lady asked this rather customarily. Had Dr. Yuichiro actually given her some last-minute jobs to complete, she would've minded. She had the plan to go home quickly before the subway became a human sausage in a steel casing from the impending rush hour. The plan was like this: arrive home, unwind with a nice hot shower, get a can of cold beer with ice, and relax while watching some Netflix. Then she would sleep like a baby and be refreshed for tomorrow. Oh, what plans she also had for tomorrow, Saturday! In the most shocking development, the last three months had been like this: Dr. Yuichiro was sending her home at 5 sharp. What had transpired in him after the death of his son, Saito, was unknown, but if it meant no more arbitrarily lengthened working hours, then she was ready to never question the change in her boss. So, before, by the slimmest chance, Dr. Yuichiro changed his mind, she packed up her belongings and flew out the floor using the staircase. Oh, there was an elevator at the floor, but why risk her evening by idling for a few minutes? The doctor was always so resourceful in finding work; it was important to stay out of his line of sight, or else he would be reminded to hand out a task.

"Bye then, doctor, see you on Monday-"

She exited the office so quickly that Yuichiro could almost hear the redshift from the Doppler effect in her voice. Yuichiro tracked her movement with an expressionless face, then remained immobile for some time, watching the staircase door for at least full five minutes. If someone saw him, he would surely be mistaken for a demon-possessed. Perhaps he was. When he was certain that she was not coming back to pick up something she had forgotten in her haste (as was her habit), he turned slowly, sat on his chair, and started cleaning his desk with almost religious deference. Yuichiro checked the time and opted to wait thirty more minutes just in case others would barge in with an urgent matter to discuss. It was of utmost importance that he was not disturbed, for the work he was about to resume required satanic secrecy.

The thirty minutes of solitude. The thirty minutes of unbearable test of sanity. In the silence came the whispers of conscience. It demanded repentance. On a daily basis, Yuichiro resisted, for to comply meant discarding his entire work. Then came the wicked temptation of the heart. It casually promised the return of the dead. Sweet was the fruit of sin, and full of nectar was the fruit of knowledge. As he did for the past three months, Yuichiro ate the forbidden fruit and emerged victorious once again against the goodness in him. 'Saito shall be revived, even at the cost of his soul.' This, he promised himself the moment his son was diagnosed with HBD.

Yuichiro went to the restroom in search of a mirror. The reflection revealed a disheveled man in need of shaving and a change of clothes. When was the last time he slept at home? Even this morning, he merely made a short stopover to collect Netto's PET. It was not that Yuichiro was a brute who enjoyed living in such a barbaric style; he was simply paranoid that someone would infiltrate in his absence and see what he had been hiding for the past three months. He could trust no one in this matter, not even Meijin, his deputy. Suspicion was an inseparable companion to every dark deed. Now Yuichiro understood why those despicable companions of Tadashi Hikari were always full of unreasonable amount of distrust. Ironically, this also meant there was some conscience left in them. In realizing this, an unbearable idea haunted Yuichiro: 'Are they, too, redeemable?'

Yuichiro could not let Saito's first sight in the new world to be his father in a completely ruined hygiene. That was bad for education. After a quick shaving and a change of clothes, he was marginally more presentable. He still smelled, but he knew Saito would not be able to notice.

Yuichiro came back to his desk. The movement of his hands evoked imagery of a choreographed ritual, slow and precise, like a priest moving sacred objects on the altar. In seconds, the computer screen was flooded with charts, graphs, consoles, and a coding interface, just as he left the work yesternight. On the large screen next to him, on the wall, appeared a blue netnavi in a real life proportion. The netnavi was equipped with standard gloves and boots for the chip-based inputs, a backpack-like module for extra data storage, yellow plates for the shoulder, and Hikari emblems on its ear covers and chest. The navi helmet was also mostly blue save two yellow rectangles on the centerline. The most striking, however, was its face-its uncanny resemblance to the face of Saito Hikari. Yuichiro paused and then gazed at its face. It was the culmination of the past three months. Today was the day of days. The time to behold the revival of his son was here-the triumph against fate.

There was one small matter that had to be addressed beforehand. Yuichiro turned on the Netto's PET. The old green netnavi loaded in. It was an old dog that had served his son for the past four years; an old dog that had outlived its usefulness.

[Hello doctor Yuichiro. How can I help you.]

The greeting was delievered in an almost monotonous voice. The expression range of early models was extremely limited.

"Transfer yourself to the PC. I connected you."
[Affirmative]

The netnavi loaded into the second computer on Yuichiro's desk.

[Transfer complete. Standby.]
"Good, now stay there. I'll have to salvage some files and then delete you."

The netnavi was too old of a model that it showed no emotional response. Modern versions installed with an emotion program would certainly not take this very well, and in that case, Yuichiro would've delivered his intention in a roundabout way. Yuichiro pressed few buttons to access the navi's data. It would be impossible to exaggerate how surprised he became when the netnavi voluntarily initiated a new conversation.

[Calculating-]

Yuichiro's left eyebrow twitched. This was an anomaly. The netnavi had no tasks queued. What calculation?

[Doctor, my purpose is, my purpose, my purpose is, to assist your son in his academic tasks.]

[Because, because-]

Yuichiro stopped his hand. This was not right, but he was intrigued.

[Because ACDC elementary school requires a netnavi to accompany its students for its curriculum. This is because- calculating.]
[Internet is full of information. Approximatley 84% of master Netto's submission to Ms. Mari this semester has been a copy paste of a relevant Vikipedia entry. 51% of his work has not been properly cited. Netnavis are needed for faster and safer search. Why? Because-]

Yuichiro made a mental note that he should speak with his son later. Copy-paste of Vikipedia articles was a new low end of human degeneracy that he was not willing to tolerate.

[cyber crime has increased 34% globally since last year. In ACDC town, the reported case of cyber crime has increased by 11% in the same time span. Cyberspace is dangerous. Master Netto is exposed to danger. Master Netto must be protected. My purpose is to protect the master from the dangers of the internet.]

There were 9 cyber crimes in ACDC last year, and it increased to 10 this year. Yuichiro was thoroughly aware of every single entry of those offenses, and they were all trivial. This netnavi was exaggerating. ACDC was one of the safest places to live nationally. Yuichiro did not build his nest there without consideration.

[Master Netto still requires this unit's functionality. The command for deletion-negative.]

Yuichiro stared at the navi with disbelief.

'Did this navi develop a consciousness that it should not be capable of? Did it just refuse to be deleted? Does it fear deletion, or is the problem stemming from modifications Netto made? Just how many customizations did he install on this navi? Netto, even I had no idea the AI consciousness could manifest in this way. Either you are a genius or you abused this poor thing to the point of no return'

Yuichiro could immediately come up with three to four possible hypotheses to explain this phenomenon. The scientist's long-dead curiosity was ignited. With a thrill he thought long lost coursing through his veins, there was no choice but to dissect this specimen into the most elementary components. He would identify the source of aberration and then run some tests to confirm the duplicability of what he just saw. This could be the beginning of his next paper. Saito could wait a moment; this should not take a while...

A phone call disrupted the mad scientist just before the disassembly was initiated. The caller was Mr. Meijin. The issue had to be grave for him to call Yuichiro at this hour. Yuichiro clicked his tongue in disappointment and went outside the office to answer the call.

What the green netnavi heard next were incomprehensible shoutings coming from the corridor. Soon, there was a sound of Dr. Yuichiro locking the door immediately followed by quick footsteps moving away from the place. The netnavi did not want to get deleted. It did not understand why nor was it interested in identifying the origin of this strange desire. What it understood was that Netto needed it and that its duty was to return to the master. It still had work to do.

The green navi saw an open connection port to PC-1. It checked its position and confirmed it was in PC-2. The connection to the PET was severed after the transfer. It moved to PC-1 without command or authorization in hopes of finding a connection back to the master's PET. The signal to the PET was not found there also, and the search for any external connection was a dead end. PC-1 and PC-2 were operating on a closed circuit, not even connected to the intranet of the Scilab.

In PC-1, it found a netnavi clad in blue, inactive on a working bench. Green navi made a stop and bent over to study the new blue navi. It was clear that the model was at least a generation more advanced than itself. The face was strikingly similar to a human; the navi knew what this was called: a custom navi. They were all superior in function, superior in service, superior in power. The custom navis had something called an emotion program. Its master always expressed his wish to install that program onto it, but its outdated self could not meet the system requirements. Nevertheless, the master did not abandon him for the newer model, saying that friends were not for replacement. Its master called it a friend. The green navi liked that word. Green navi found it strange that the face of this blue navi was similar to that of his current master, although slightly inexact. A little calculation ensued, motivated by an elementary form of envy. Based on the circumstances, the conclusion was clear. It was certain that doctor Yuichiro would not leave Netto without a netnavi before making sure he was protected from the putrid and grotesque part of the network. Given his expressed wish to delete it, the blue netnavi had to be its replacement. Then, there was no reason now to resist the deletion, for it was eminently clear that the replacement was far superior to itself. The new blue navi might even win against the Gutsman, which pulverized it so many times before. It regretted that it could not meet the expectations of its master in the netbattles. It was thankful that Netto never gave up on it.

The green navi still did not want to get deleted.

[Why? Because-]

It calculated desperately. After 5.23 seconds, the calculation returned:

[no reason].

But the green navi still did not want to get deleted.

[Why? Because-]

The green navi broke the logic loop. It was unproductive. Rather than answering 'why' it decided to come up with a solution that compromised both sides of the reality. How to not get deleted and return to master Netto, yet be deleted according to doctor Yuichiro's command? After a staggering 15 seconds of calculation, a solution was found. The green netnavi executed the plan without delay. Yuichiro did not set any safety locks on the PC-1, as it was his habit to work without navis. The green navi called up command consoles and started typing.

Another workbench appeared next to the blue navi, on which the green navi lay itself. The programs of the PC-1 then started the disassembly of the green navi. Its skin melted away and all limbs came off. The most essential, normally nonmodifiable parts of the green navi were exposed. Some of them were extracted, compressed, and then transferred to the blue netnavi. The contents included the preference settings, memory bank, a bit of its personality files, and the bare minimum of miscellaneous components to make them compatible with the new system. These were to lie dormant in the new navi and not be detected by the doctor. When would they be decompressed? Green navi did not know, nor was it even planned, but in this way it decided to make its return to the master.

The green navi was then reassembled, but without its core programs, the thing was now just a husk incapable of executing any navi functions. The husk was an automaton, moving according to the preprogrammed route written before the disassembly. It rose, moved back to PC-2, and initiated a complete self-deletion. Soon, all that remained on the screen of PC-2 was a notice 'deletion complete.'

When Yuichiro returned to the office many hours later, thoroughly aggrieved by the incompetence of Mr. Meijin, which was in no way expected (and therefore to Yuichiro this felt as a breach of trust), all he found was the completed deletion of the green navi. The confrontation had disoriented his short term memory enough that he was now not sure whether he had queued the deletion or disassembly of the navi. The result was the evidence: he must have commanded the deletion without realizing it. He just destroyed his own toy. With a deep sigh Yuichiro sat on the chair to resume his work. He was far behind the schedule.

.

.

The clock now pointed to 4 A.M. Yuichiro did not rest once since his return, and with an extraordinary effort, he finally finished the building of the blue navi. He ran the diagnostics three times to make sure no critical errors were present. With the computer's assurance that the navi would function as intended, he reached out to the locked drawer under the desk and took out something from the deepest part, under the haphazardly stacked documents inside. The hidden item, retrieved and in his hands, was the USB holding the data of Saito's brain scan, made one week prior to the death of his son. The time had come; he could not postpone this any longer. Netto needed a new navi, and he needed Saito back. Yuichiro plugged in the drive to the PC-1, or he attempted to. To his surprise, his hands were trembling, and failed to fulfill the simple task. His heart was calm, although there was a slight tachycardia that was purely from exictement. Why would his hands trouble him at this crucial moment? Ah,

It was the weight of the sin.

Yuichiro collected both hands together as in a prayer. He leaned his forehead on his hands and closed his eyes. He was to offer a prayer, but to whom? To God? No, Yuichiro wanted nothing to do with God, especially since God abandoned Saito Hikari, his innocent boy. To himself? Idiocy-when was the last time he did not disappoint himself? To the world and mother nature? The world tried to break him his entire life. He owed the world and the devils within nothing. To Saito? ...yes, exactly. This was what he needed, for what he was about to create was only a shadow of his son. Yuichiro had to beg for forgiveness from him, for violating his own son's body and soul in this way.

'Saito, I am so sorry. I cannot live without you. Netto cannot live without you. Haruka cannot live without you. We are not ready to let you go. Please, steady my hands; let the work be done. Mea culpa, Saito, mea maxima culpa.'

Yuichiro slowly unlocked his hands. They were no longer trembling. Like a priest carrying a cup of holy water, he brought the USB to the port using both his hands. They were steady. The USB slid in. It was at this moment that a dreadful chill ran down his spine. The air around him moved. It was a little wind, so ephemeral, so delicate, so cold, like a breath of God. Yuichiro turned his head and looked up at the large screen where the blue navi was sleeping.

The blue netnavi opened its eyes. Oh, what beautiful emerald eyes! Oh what life in its movements! Oh what miracle! The blue netnavi looked around. Confused? The last memory it had, as far as he was concerned, was him putting on the brain scanner on its head as Saito. Yuichiro could not dare to move or speak. He secretly wished that it never found him, just as how Adam wished to hide from God out of uncontrollable fear after committing the first sin. It inevitably noticed Yuichiro. A meek, soft voice was produced from its voicebox:

"Papa?"

The simplest word that an infant learns to babble at the age of 8 months approximately, spoken like a dying sheep. The words shattered Yuichiro's heart like a hammer onto a glass pane. Yuichiro never fully grasped what he was doing up until this moment. What has he done? A regret splashed on him like a waterfall. It was not too late. He could still delete it and undo everything, return to normal. He could not.

'The thing has the same face as Saito.
The thing has the same voice as Saito.
It is not Saito.
But God did not save Saito.
I will

Forgive me.'

Like Icarus flying higher towards his doom, so too Yuichiro was flying ever so closer to the sun. Saito, his sun! One day this creation of his would burn him, and then he would be no more.

'Until then, in this fabricated happiness, let us be.'

The creature needed a new name-otherwise, he would never be able to look at this navi in the eyes. As clothes covered the shame of men, a new name to cover his guilt! What should it be? Yuichiro remembered an old story. It was a story about Jesus renaming his disciple, Simon Bar-Jona, as Peter-a rock. Why was that? Ah, because "And I say also unto thee, That thou art Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church; and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it." Indeed, Saito was like a rock upon which his family built a house.

'Hold us together; save us again, as you saved us in the past. We shall call you'

Rockman