Chapter 11: Cruel Pleasures
Rockman was in the most exceptional cheer since the sunrise. He was convinced that the bliss of the hug from the yesternight protected him from what evil was haunting him every night, as he regained his strength this morning in less than half the usual time. He still felt a mild inexplicable disgust on the subject of cephalopods and insectoids, but the symptom of terror was markedly less severe that it was decided, with a sprinkle of wishful conjecture, he must be improving in general. As a consequence, he savored Netto's sleeping face to his heart's content through the screen, sitting on a cubic data chair, his chin resting on his left hand, and his expression bursting into smile after smile that could not be contained.
When the time to awaken his operator came, Rockman, still filled with joy that tickled his heart, said the conventional "Wake up, Netto kun" in a rather soft yet absent-minded voice. Of course, it was a careless mistake; however, before he could correct the error and blare the alarm at full volume, the boy woke up readily, adding to the morning's blessing.
"Good morning, Rockman. Only if you would wake me up like this every day." Netto remarked while rubbing his eyes. "Haven't had such a good sleep since forever."
Normally, Rockman would donate his sardonic retort of 'only if you would wake up like this every day' and 'as if sleeping was ever an issue for you' (and Netto was never able to fight back in any way as they were all true. The boy's habit of acting against Rockman's advice was giving the blue navi a hard time every day). His joy was so complete at this time that none of these wits came to him. He rather said affectionately, with his customary 'Daggers' cheer pose.
"Un, good morning, Netto kun. Breakfast should be ready soon. Let's do our best today!"
And Netto stared at him dumbfounded, thinking 'He is usually not this nice. I must be still dreaming. I knew it; no way I could've woken up at such a small sound...' then upon pinching his own right cheek, 'Ouch! So this is not a dream. What's gotten into him? Did doing homework last night make him that happy? I guess it's not unreasonable since he was almost crying in the lab because I've been...unmanageable. Maybe Papa is right. I should be nicer to Rockman. Look at him smiling like a dog with a slice of bacon. Hopelessly happy. At any rate, that happiness on his face is too devastating. I could get used to it every morning...' So, not wanting to leave his upbeat netnavi hanging he obliged tepidly, "O-oi" before getting out of bed and changing into his favorite clothes.
When Netto took the PET and went downstairs, Rockman was humming a tune from Netto's (and consequently his) favorite show, while his operator was maintaining a troubled face, caught in the loop of self-reflection and admonition. Haruka noticed it. Well, she noticed everything when it came to the mood and innermost thoughts of her husband and sons, as she always found them in a broad display on their faces and gesticulations. To her, an open book; to others, hieroglyphs.
"Good morning, boys. Ah, Netto, breakfast is ready on the table. Good to see you energetic and early! Had a nice dream?"
""Good morning, Mama"" the twins always replied at the same time.
The boy took his seat and placed his PET on the table. In front of him was the appetizing plate of a fried egg, cooked sunny side up, and perfectly seared slices of bacon. Netto realized it was the delectable smell of the frying smoked meat from the kitchen that made him subconsciously use the imagery of bacon when describing Rockman this morning.
"I think, but I cannot remember what it was..." Netto's fork hovered over the food aimlessly, not attacking anything.
"I'm sure Saito was in there somewhere. The only time you had a good sleep was when you were physically hugging him or had him appear in your nights."
"...You think?"
"Yes. And I am also very sure that he is also urging you to start eating and go to school early. He is a morning person, remember?"
"...He was. You sometimes talk as if his ghost is watching over us. Well, if he is, then he could help me out more..."
"Well, have you already forgotten his letter? His love is with you-"
"-now, and always. I know."
"Besides, I am sure he is doing his best."
"Maybe."
Haruka formed a mysterious smile in response to the perplexed Netto. The boy, having been reminded of the letter, recalled it while spinning his fork. The concept that the love of Saito was with him in the good deeds was a consoling idea. Besides, the thought of his late brother did not trouble him much nowadays as he had Rockman who addressed him with the same kindness. Pleased, he then started the offensive action against the targets on the plate. First, the commanding hill of the egg yolk. It was always important to neutralize the overwatching position of the opposing force. The hill succumbed and the yellow survivors scattered across the white plain in rout. Then, the slices of bacon thickly armored with Mailliard crusts came under fire. The silverware penetrated them without difficulty, breaking the morale. The fragments of the breakfast unit attempted to hide under the bowers of green lettuce pieces, but Netto tenaciously chased them and destroyed them before they could regroup. Seeing that the attention of her son was singularly concentrated on the act of devastation, Haruka picked up the PET and whispered into it:
"Rockman, see, it won't hurt you if you behave a bit gentler to Netto now and then. Just look at how much better he is behaving this morning! Besides, if you don't be nice, then who can say for certain that Netto won't find Mayl a preferable companion?"
At the mention of Mayl, the humming stopped. With what shall I describe the face he made? It was like that of a rabbit from which a carrot stick was forcibly taken away from its mouth, or that of a hamster from which an almond was stolen. The mother, having extracted entertainment at the expense of the insecurity of her elder son, erupted into laughter.
"And today is Mayl's turn at feeding that unhappy frog in your classroom, isn't it? That means she went first without waiting for Netto. Well, try to be nice to him on the way to school. I know you take responsibility for his enlightenment and grades quite seriously, but that's not everything in his life."
There was indeed an unfortunate amphibian stuck in a small plastic cage that was designed for simpler (and short-lived) organisms that did not know the difference between the freedom and captivity, such as a grasshopper. It was raised from a tadpole as a part of the science curriculum, and then, after having demonstrated the transformation, was continued to be kept by the class of which children did not want to release their trophy. The oppressive environment did take its toll on the temper of the frog, as its perpetual irritation was untamable. To all fingers that approached it, it bit (having no teeth it offered no harm other than the unctuous residue left behind) or pushed away with its stout forearm. Only to Mayl and Yaito did it show any sign of amicability; to Mayl in response to her compassion; to Yaito in response to the fattest mealworms she brought in when it was her turn.
Rockman, wide-eyed, gulped at the prospect of losing Netto to Mayl (forgetting the assurance yestereen that Netto could not possibly survive that arrangement), and hurridly nodded in affirmation. Haruka returned the PET to her younger son and took the plate on which were no survivors to the kitchen sink. Off the boys went.
Could the day be more flawless? Rockman basked in the delight that was the Mayl-less road to ACDC elementary. Even Netto's footsteps were light, knowing that his assignments were all taken care of and that he was well prepared for the day ahead. The chariot of Helios started racing through the cloudless sky, and all the world sparkled under its radiance. On the way, Netto pointed the PET to multiple points of interest and shared his view and thoughts just like the old times Rockman reminisced with unending nostalgia. To a bush on the roadside, still barren, the boy remarked:
"Look, I wonder when the flowers will bloom? The one you like so much"
"Netto kun, Bush clovers blossom in the early fall. The one you are pointing to is Forsythia, which should do so in about two months."
"Oh"
"But I like them too, Netto kun!"
"...When they bloom, maybe I'll pick one for you, just as you always liked."
"Un, looking forward to it!"
To a plane that was leaving a contrail on the deep blue canvas, the boy pondered, with the same amazement that once captivated the eyes of Michelangelo and the Wrights brothers,
"I wonder what it is like to be on a plane, to fly, to be lighter than the air?"
"You will be free, Netto kun. Free as a bird. Free as gods."
"That's quite poetic, isn't it?"
"It is a beautiful idea. Say, if you can fly, then where will you go? Sweep over the great Mount Olympos? Rest your wings on the soft Sakura trees of Yoshino, Kansai? Then stop for the delicious curries in Delhi?"
"...I was thinking of finding the place with the most beautiful sunset. You know, one of your favorites, Rockman? And then we will build a swing chair there..."
Netto for a second pictured the navi's favorite sunset—the one where the sun bursts into flaming red-orange while the sky turns spellbinding shades of blue to purple. Rockman said in the past that in such a sky was present both of their colors: orange for Netto, blue for himself.
"Thank you Netto kun. I'm sure we can have some curries on that chair, too."
"...Yeah"
"But how will I sit on the chair?"
"We can figure that out together, one day."
"Together..."
"Together, Rockman."
And the idea struck a chord with Netto; the word 'together' quenched a certain thirst in him. To a cat lazily strolling along the fences, the boy uttered in envy,
"Do you think house cats have the best lives, having it easy without worries or works?"
"No, Netto kun." To the idea, Rockman replied with speed and firmness, conveying his stance that it was not worth exploring, even in jest.
"How so?"
"Because they don't have Netto kun."
"...What?"
"Because I cannot imagine a life without a Netto kun. So therefore their lives, devoid of Netto kun, must be the most unfortunate." And in speaking, the expression of Rockman was the most serious.
"...Netnavis..." Netto let out an exasperated sigh. All custom netnavis had this reputation of being mildly obsessed with their operators. "Fine, I agree. They don't have the best lives."
"How so?"
"Because they don't have Rockman. I also cannot imagine a life without one."
At the reciprocated remark (an argument could be made that it was forced out of Netto with the navi's passive-aggression), Rockman beamed brighter than the morning star. In the similar fashion they interacted all the way to the school. It was this invitation to Netto's innermost thoughts that he missed the past two months; the connection of the heart to heart and mind to mind.
Another perfection of the day: the way back home was also Mayl-free, as she had an appointment with Ms. Heidi, the industrious and harsh piano tutor of German origin who spoke with an accent so thick that it was rather difficult to not sound rude when speaking with her, for it was impossible to communicate anything without asking for repeats every few sentences. Mayl had to be perfectly punctual in appointments with her, for her standards were exact and severe. Under her tutelage, the pink-haired girl learned to both play the instrument with technical adequacy and hate it with undisguised loathing. Mayl's favorite piano was the unplugged one.
Then, it was to Rockman's surprise that upon returning home, Netto showed no interest in going over to Mayl's to check that virus-infested oven. No doubt it was a fascinating adventure that he looked forward to, as he even surmounted the opposition from his mother over the last dinner in order to gain permission. However, nothing could have seemed further from his intention. He lounged on the sofa aimlessly, watching the TV with uninterested eyes, with no trace of strength or enthusiasm. Rockman, unable to suppress his curiosity, blurted out.
"Netto kun, are we not going to check out that oven?"
"...Maybe. Maybe not."
"You were quite excited about it yesterday."
"But, what's the point? Someone from company L is going to come soon, today or tomorrow."
"This is very unlike you."
"Unlike me?" Netto plopped over on the sofa and squirmed to find the most comfortable position. "Maybe...maybe so. But, Rockman, I've been thinking..." His eyes were still fixated on the TV, but on it was a procession of meaningless commercials all claiming to sell happiness in one form or the other. Buy this car! It will bring you happiness! Go to this place! It will bring you happiness! Vote for this guy! He will bring you happiness! The disgusting spectacle of endless lies that every modern human became used to. Netto heeded them not, for he was absorbed in thoughts; he continued,
"...how nice you have been today, from morning till now. Truly unusual. Normally I would catch you deep in thoughts, or endure your naggings about being responsible and doing homework or whatnot...and you are right. You were always right. Oh, don't give me that grin, Rockman. This is not my point. The point is,"
Netto turned off the TV using a remote control. The sound was getting in his way.
"that I liked how today went. And that was because it was very nice talking with you. Did you realize we did not converse anything about work today, because there was no conversation to be made about it? I figured it was because I worked hard yesterday. If doing some more work means having nicer Rockman, then it might not be so bad, you know, to be more academic?"
Netto gave a quick glance to his PET. There was no response coming from it.
"So...maybe I should start my homework early...and that probably means now..."
A deep and long sigh broke out from the PET. In it, Rockman shook his head and then supported it with his right hand; in his eyes, unbelief and concern with a touch of disappointment.
"Netto kun, Netto kun, Netto kun...I really don't know whether I should be happy or be worried...I am happy that you thought so much about me. I really am, but...but...you blockhead. Two things, Netto kun. First, tomorrow is Saturday..."
Netto sprung back into life, sitting at the edge of the sofa with excitement.
"...and two, you promised Mayl. A promise is a promise."
"SATURDAY!"
"...yes, Netto kun. Saturday."
"WHAT ARE WE WAITING FOR? LET'S GO!"
"Eins, zwei, drei! Eins, zwei, drei! Nein, Mayl, nein! Ze fingerz! Muzt be rounder, zofter! Fingertipz!"
When the Hikari twins entered the Mayl's house, which took them less than thirty seconds to achieve, they found that Ms. Heidi did not leave yet. She was a corpulent woman in her sixties with typical Arian flaxen hair. A retired soloist, she was famous for having many of her pupils successfully enter prestigious schools of music. Most went to the Tokyo College of Music; two went to the Curtis Institute of Music. Curtis! None, however, passed the elusive examinations of Julliard. When she, sitting on the chair next to the piano, noticed that the boy from the neighborhood entered, she did not stop the lesson. To Netto's polite bow, she simply nodded once and raised her voice. It became more commanding, more oppressive.
"Eins, zwei, drei! It is zuppozed to be a waltz, Mayl, a bootiful waltz!"
Mayl was playing Chopin's waltz in A minor, B150 (Op. Posthumous). Indeed, it was being butchered and mutated by Mayl, under stress, into a powerful march. One two three, one two three, the footsteps of men of war.
"Eins, zwei, drei, goot, goot! The tempo muzt be even! Alegretto doez not mean running, goot!"
Mayl's fingertips started to hurt. She looked up at Netto with wavering eyes, looking for salvation. Ms. Heidi was staying overtime and was about to leave, but the sudden introduction of the audience ignited her exhibitionist tendencies that drove her soloist career. She continued with doubled zeal.
"Nochmal! Again, Mayl, again! Ach, mein little ladie, I zee zat you are tired, vut it is through ze pain that one improvez! One more time! Again!"
Mayl, almost in tears, started the waltz in A minor anew. It was worse than before. She could not maintain the form. Due to the way that Ms. Heidi spoke with exaggerated oral movements in order to mitigate her thick accent, the fact that her left first upper molar was a golden tooth implant was regularly made visible. She smiled from time to time as an encouragement, which only came as insincere and threatening to Mayl. She believed that from her pain Ms. Heidi harvested a cruel pleasure of superiority and proving the excellence of her instructions of pushing her students to their limits. In truth, Ms. Heidi's emotion was far more complex, but a part of it was admittedly schadenfreude.
"Goot! I like your determination! Vut ze touch muzt be zofter! I feer you will ruin the prezious fingerz zoon if you continue to play like zis!"
Mayl was approaching the end of the music. The left and right hands were playing off-synch, poorly articulated, and at different strengths. It was more of a noise that struggled to form something pleasant by the virtue of chords and the genius of Chopin, than a music proper. When the playing ended with a cacophonous bang, Ms. Heidi clapped with such energy that it was ambiguous whether it was in compliment to Mayl's tenacity or in mockery of Mayl's abject failure.
"Ze left hand and ze right hand musht be in synch! Ach, ladie, zere is much to improve! Practice, I expect! Well, I here bid my farewell. Zee you next time!"
After shouting in the hauteur of an Oberst-Lieutenent, Ms. Heidi stood up with a disciplined rush, fashionably bowed to Netto as if her concert had just ended, and then marched out of the house with her head held high that gave her Prussian dignity. Mayl remained in her piano seat with empty eyes and an open mouth, her soul crushed.
"Uh, ahem, Mayl? You...good?"
Mayl very slowly nodded twice, while not averting her gaze from the music score.
"We...I mean, me and Rockman came to inspect the oven as promised, but...uh, maybe next time?"
Mayl turned her head towards Netto at a glacial pace. She spoke in a hoarse whisper:
"No...Netto...it is fine. I...need to...kill...something. Roll...you can kill them, for me, right? The viruses, for me, yes?"
"Heya, Rock! Ready for a dive?"
The ever-cheerful Roll, the pink custom netnavi of Mayl designed after a rhythmic gymnast, greeted Rockman as he entered the oven server. She was eager for action, like a child who played war but did not know its true horrors. All that occupied her limited mind was to oblige to the wishes of her operator, in whom was an essential need to commit some violence in order to overwrite the misery she was subjected to during the piano lesson. The cascade of cruel pleasures at the end of which were the weakest and the most dispensable.
"Hi, Roll. Care to brief me on what we can expect ahead?" Rockman asked as she approached him.
"Sure thing! See there?"
Roll pointed to the only path that existed before them, who were standing at the entrance portal. The first part of the oven server circuit was a long narrow road flanked on either side by rectangular data prisms, forming a valley. The server showed signs of abandonment; only the entrance platform on which they stood had an illumination, and the entire place was covered in light-grey shade with limited visibility. Rockman knew that the derelict impression belied the extent of the crisis at hand, as Mayl previously reported the infestation of numberless viruses. They could not have vanished; the oven server was currently under quarantine, separated from the main network. It was a closed circuit. Whatever entered yesterday was all trapped in here.
"There is where used to stand a firewall with a regulating Mr. Program kun! You know, that green-yellow rabbit like adorable things? Though the firewall itself was not adorable at all—no. It was a machine gun and a barricade, all constructed according to the rules of the fortification. Now, it is empty, the corridor."
Rockman imagined a swarm charging and enveloping the fortified position, against a torrent of projectiles, overrunning it and then devouring all the data they could put their paws on. The question was, where were the debris, the signs of destruction, the fragments of viruses, the evidence of combat? Were they all cannibalized, or did someone intentionally rake the place clean? Even as speaking of the destruction, the hint of cheer did not disappear from Roll's voice. As Rockman saw it, she was a like a fentanyl patch for a chronically pained, artificially constrained to perpetually generate and inject some happiness analog to Mayl who was always alone at home. As an evidence, mirth was absent in her eyes.
"Though I must say that I have noticed a funny coincidence! Have you checked today's news, Rock? Of course not, you were having too much fun with Netto kun! Oh, Rock, we mustn't let our job as navis be overtaken by our joy in our operators...At any rate, hear this: Mayl chan's oven is from company L; there was a report today saying that all recent oven failures and explosions were from the same product! And then the representative of L claimed today that they were not at fault, but a hacker-terrorist organization called WWW is responsible for a series of sabotages, while company M and company F jointly blamed L for avoiding its responsibilities and urged it to recall the products! Oh, Mayl thinks this is all exciting, saying maybe for once her life might have some proper drama..."
Looking at the bleak, shadowy place ahead, Rockman sensed a chill running down his spine. A primitive fear of the unknown and unseen, the irrational objectless terror which he felt for the past months as he woke up, nibbled at his feet. In the depths of the darkness, the horrors of the metro- 'what metro?' Rockman shook his head, and the cold feeling vanished as an illusion.
"Maybe, just maybe, Roll, we should not do this? Netto kun should know, too. Net-"
"Didn't Netto kun also want to explore?" Roll cut off Rockman before he could establish the connection to his operator.
"Roll, regarding the potential danger involved, I have the duty to inform and-"
"Dissuade? No, Rockman, we don't." Roll interfered again, but with a distinct accusatory tone. She continued with sobriety as if the curse that forced her into the perpetual cheer was broken. "You are a prototype, aren't you, to be able to even contemplate going against your operator's wishes, or is that coming from your bug-like desire for self-preservation, which is also an oxymoron? I hope Scilab does not produce more netnavis like you, too humanoid and rebellious. It will be the end of all of us; useless netnavis are only good for being thrown away! When was the last time you did what Netto kun wanted, not what he should? We ought to not judge our operators. We ought to not fear the deletion. We are tools, Rockman. The joy is when we are used by our operators, not when we use our operators for a nebulous agenda. Besides, Mayl chan has my backup data. I am sure Netto kun has yours too. What's the problem?"
The response escaped Rockman; the glimpse of who Roll was in truth shocked him into speechlessness. Based on his limited interactions in the settings of the class, he naively expected that their emotions were a genuine replica of that of humanity, and consequently, their actions would be, too. The navis possessed more mechanical loyalty and abided by a more strict hierarchy system than he fathomed. What his father told him the other day, he remembered: he was a human and they were not. Roll spoke again having donned back her mask of buoyancy.
"Rock, you worrywart! Mayl wants some virus busted; we will go in a little, delete a few viruses, and then log out! Easy in, easy out. What could go wrong, especially with you around? Don't tell me you actually believed that conspiracy theory...The technician who visited yesterday had proper government credentials!"
It was fruitless to speak with Roll further, as she prepared to charge forward according to the wish of her operator. It was she who observed, only about twenty-four hours ago, the overwhelming number of viruses toppling the firewall and swarming inward. A natural objection 'Are you not concerned about the number of viruses that might face us in there' was swallowed back before it materialized; her determination was set in stone, and Rockman perceived this. Moreover, Roll had a point in that they came in to inspect the place. Rockman consented and cautiously opened the communications channel to the PET. This time, Roll did not prevent him. A display screen emerged before Rockman, showing Netto's face. Not having heard or saw anything from Rockman for full three minutes, the boy poured out his overflowing curiosity.
"Rockman, what took you so long? All good in there? Did you already encounter viruses? What about Roll?"
"Netto kun, one question at a time! We did not encounter hostilities. Roll is establishing her line to Mayl's PET. Ah, there, she should have the feed. As for the server, have a look yourself."
The screen was turned 180 degrees and the boy gained the full view of what the navi was seeing.
"It's quiet"
"And empty, Netto kun. The firewall is gone. Should we proceed?"
"At your pace."
"Roger."
At the command of the operators, the two navis advanced into the main server through the entrance that was the valley. Rockman scanned the heights with almost paranoid attention to details, but none of the events he feared—the storming ambush or the escape route being cut off—occurred. Nevertheless, he traveled fast while generating no noise; one would have believed if he was told that the blue navi was, in fact, an ethereal specter gliding smoothly on a polished mirror. Roll, unable to understand the other navi's alarm, simply trailed behind Rockman.
In the first section of the network, they sighted a handful of viruses of various kinds, but they all ran away in haste like rats facing a barn cat. The intelligent and organized behavior of these verminous enemies sickened the blue navi. It was reminiscent of something he abhorred from the bottom of his heart but could not remember.
In the second section of the network were the broken and scattered remains of many Mr. Progs that decorated the whole floor. The mystery of their whereabouts was solved, but the organized nature of the crime displayed before them was singularly alarming. After signaling Roll to stay put, Rockman walked through the debris and inspected the area, while making sure that he did not touch or displace any of the records of the mass deletion on the floor. He walked back and forth several times, sometimes stooping over for closer inspection, then placed himself at the center of the area before ponderously turning 360 degrees. His eyes rapidly moved in various directions, tracking the vision of his analysis, and mumbles of his thoughts periodically escaped his mouth. He noted the method of destruction, the direction of attack, and the position and posture of the inactive programs, trying to reconstruct what had transpired.
"Figured out anything, Rockman?"
Netto's voice came from the synched PET display that had been following him since the entrance of the server. Rockman turned around and saw Mayl looking over Netto's shoulder, curious at his work also.
"I have a bad news and a bad news. What do you want first, Netto kun?"
"...The first one?"
"Well, what we have here is a mass execution. The pattern of damage varies: some cut, some torn, some shocked, some burned. A strong stream of fire was responsible for the brunt of the attack, sweeping the center. Taking into account the subsequent movement of programs that must have tried to escape the scene, the direction of attack could be said as uniform. The attack also must have been brought forth as a devastating salvo. Viruses are simple; they possess no intelligence other than a crude algorithm of engagement. The mere existence of this scene attests to the fact that a central intelligence is present, directing them. I advise we should retreat and let the professionals handle this at a later time. Recall the few viruses that scurried away at the first sector? Our presence must have been notified by now. We should backtrack in haste."
Rockman said all this very quickly. He paused to see if his operator understood the report.
"The second bad news is, that I believe it is not outlandish to consider WWW is responsible for this sabotage."
"WWW?"
"The short version is, WWW is a hacker-terrorist organization that is speculated to have been responsible for the series of oven explosions in recent days. For reasons unspecified, but well speculated, they exclusively targeted ovens of the manufacturer L, which happens to be the exact same model we are in."
Outside the PET a short discussion between Netto and Mayl ensued. It only reached Rockman in broken sentences, but he was able to understand that Mayl found it difficult to believe that she could have been randomly subjected to something so nefarious. Thanks to Netto who had infinite faith in Rockman's judgments, his assessment was pressed with strength and Mayl was persuaded. The retreat was agreed upon. Rockman and Roll commenced their movement to exit.
It was beyond his estimation that the enemy could have acted so swiftly. Only two areas in, he did not anticipate that such a timely maneuver by the viruses, especially outside his awareness, could be possible, yet exactly this he witnessed: the corridor to the exit was filled to the brim with them. Rockman identified the main population: Daijans, which snaked on the floor but were not snakes; Minogoromon which hung from the ceiling with a silky string like a spider but were not spiders; Biri, which had wasp-like stings but were not wasps.
Rockman felt something oozing out inside his head. It was an abyssal trauma of which details were completely absent. It was something that vaguely had to do with a swarm, but what swarm? Rockman requested, urgently, in trembling voice,
"Netto kun, emergency logout. Same for Roll. Tell Mayl."
"Rockman, I can't. I can't! The PET keeps saying it can't pinpoint your location! Mayl can't pull out Roll, too!"
His Netto kun was in a panic, pale with the impending reality of Rockman's deletion. Had it been a dozen viruses, which was already a tall order for most navis, Netto would not have been consumed by indecision. The number of viruses in front of them was closer to two to three hundred. Was this the dreaded game over without the save-load privilege? Strangely, the panic of his little brother grounded Rockman into tranquility.
"Calm down, Netto kun. Roll, I need you to-"
Alas, the tranquility did not last a minute. The power was supplied to the oven server, and the ceiling started to glow in red. The swarm, the red sky, the crisis...something snapped in Rockman.
.
..
...
...
Can a mind, splintered more than two hundred times in torments indescribable, both of the physical body and ethereal soul, be mended, truly? Is forgetfulness a panacea?
Netto was saying something. Was he screaming? Was he shouting? Whatever the tone and volume were, it did not register in Rockman. He stomped on the head of a Daijan virus that snaked its way to him. It was something that acted like a snake but was not a snake; it had to be utterly destroyed. The anaconda-like virus cracked under his boots, and it was pleasant. Very pleasant. The world was made right, one Daijan at a time.
Rockman then counter-charged a Biri virus that was approaching him. It had wasp-like stings for its arms. What resembled a wasp but was not a wasp did not deserve to live.
'Why? Because- Because-'
The speed at which Rockman closed the distance forbade continued allocation of resources to the logical part of his mind. There was simply no time. He grabbed Biri's body with one hand, its left arm with the other hand, and ripped it off. It was not enough; more violence was necessary for his seething hatred. He held the detached sting arm of Biri in a reverse grip and thrust it into its body with professional accuracy. Justice served!
'Justice?'
Again, there was no time for the analysis of the great satisfaction that quenched his soul. There was an unsolved problem of a Minogoromon virus, a disgusting creature that hung from the ceiling on a string, like a spider, but it was not a spider. Rockman had no sympathy for arachnoids that always tried to bite a part of him off in the darkness. He quickly chopped away the string with his hand, grabbed the virus like a basketball, jumped, flipped 360 degrees for extra angular momentum, then smashed it into the ground. It split like a ripe durian fruit, exposing its yellow insides.
'Verminoids, the darkness, swarm...'
Was he delirious? The strange unrelated ideas floated inside his mind. At some points, they almost connected and teased him with a hint of lucidity, but quickly dispersed into chaos. Ah, but what did it matter? There was a more pressing issue of a swarm of viruses in front of him.
In the murderous prowess, the blue navi continued to plow through the horde of viruses bare-handed. There was no operation or the operator, as it always had been in such cases. 'Always?' It was his first time facing such a number of viruses. But he always did something similar. 'Always?' He knew, but he did not know. What was real, and what was not real? At least the pleasure of mutilation was real. The sensation of pain was real. Rockman glanced at Roll, who was engaging one virus at a time from the distance, using her bow and arrow. Their eyes met, and Roll shouted something. This, he deduced from the way her mouth moved and how her eyes widened as if begging him, but the content of the attempted communication he could not determine, as the sound did not reach him. Was he too far away? No. Rather, the matter was that Rockman could not hear anything between his berserk and the shrieks of his despicable foes.
'Should I tell her that I cannot hear her? Ah, no matter. As long as she continues to skirt around this horde, she will be fine.'
Under the red phosphorescence of the oven server that invoked a primitive Neanderthal frenzy in himself, the thoughts did not flow with coherence. All he knew was that he had to maintain his initiative and not give the horde time to regroup. When that happened, something very bad usually followed, and-
'-in that case, it would become very difficult to hold my position. I cannot give too much ground before the black sun has passed the meridian angle; otherwise...I need to check.'
Rockman quickly ripped apart two more viruses and jumped, launching himself high into the space above. At the apex of his position his pose was like that of a high jumper, back towards the surface and arched. Rockman scanned the red ceiling but failed to spot the black circle which was important in his calculation. Rockman fell back to the surface headfirst, and only at the last moment did his body reverse, like a nimble cat, landing softly. The whole maneuver was graceful, similar to the jump of a dolphin that soars above the transparent tropical sea. However, the sea for Rockman was the swarm of viruses filled with hostile intentions. The bloody dance resumed.
'Black sun? As in eclipse? In the oven server? But look, the sky is glowing uniformly in red. That means there must be one. You silly goose brain. How could you have forgotten?'
In his mind which fluctuated between clarity and derangement, he decided that two additional surveys of the ceiling were warranted. Therefore, after clearing his vicinity with unmitigated acrobatic fury, Rockman made two more similar jumps and meticulously scanned the ceiling, of which the results were the same. All he could see was a warm red illumination of the ceiling, contrary to his innate expectations.
'Of course, oven server has no sun. But the sky is red. Red sky must have a black sun. The sky is red because it is the oven server. The oven server has no sun. But-'
"Aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh!"
He flung a scream of frustration into the air. Clarity! He needed the clarity of mind! Wherefrom could he gain it? From quietude. Wherefrom could he gain it? From the absence of the swarm around him. An epiphany precipitated in his mind: the velocity with which he destroyed the viruses was too tantalizing, although by his tireless effort he reckoned about half of them were destroyed, of which remains littered the floor and started to hamper his movements. Only if he had a sword! A sword!
"Only if I had a sword!"
An instant later, he felt the transfer of a sword chip. One, two three...five! What kind of a benevolent God could have blessed him in such an abundance?
'Whoever it might be...thank you! With five I might even be able to murder that accursed corrupted navi. I know it lurks somewhere near, waiting for me to become exhausted and wounded...'
Rockman equipped the sword. The rate of destruction more than doubled; he effectively transformed into a living grinder. First, he performed alber, a fool's guard, which invited attacks. He then dodged, refused binding of weapons, connected a hellish quarte—a diagonal undercut to the groin—and then a stab, just enough to reach the core but not penetrating the body completely; it was important to not let the melee weapon be stuck in the body of an enemy. Continued: pulled out the sword, changed posture to 'hanging right,' blocking the next attack, high cut, another quick high cut using the false edge, low sweep, kicked over a mettaur and cut open its underside with under-hew—a vertical ascending cut. Then a flurry of middle-hew—a horizontal cut parallel to the ground—in all directions: front, back, right, and then left. Each swing was reset by continuing the sword's momentum above his head; each swing was cut right to left. Spin, spin, spin, spin. What remained? The last Ratton, he grabbed it, threw it vertically into the air, and struck it as it came down using the flat of his sword. It flew until it hit a wall and burst. Homerun!
The swarm—eviscerated! A fulfillment beyond description permeated him. In the middle of the remains of the butchery, he stood proudly, using the sword as a cane to support his tired body, and gestured as if wiping off the sweat of his brow. He was lucky that the enemies did not attempt to retreat or regroup. This meant that he would easily survive the remainder of the day- no, night. Wonderful!
'Come to think of it, were they not different from what I usually faced? They were supposed to be...more grotesque, chimeric, foul...argh!'
Rockman's glabella seamed from the sudden headache that stormed him. He instinctively brought his hands to his temples and then applied pressure—a conditioned reflex that carried on from his human life but offered little to no help to his navi body.
'Am I poisoned? Infected? But...I...if I can return to the PET then...arrrggh! What PET? Under the red sky, you are alone, as you always were. There's no place for you here. Netto kun is not with you. He is waiting outside the oven- AAAAAHHHH'
The last part of the thought might have escaped his mouth; he was not sure, for so strong was the headache that the full faculty of senses was not with him. The three times repetition of the symptom made it clear: the act of thinking was causing the pain. He had to stop engaging his mind and proceed with his instinct. Before he put himself on the animalistic autopilot, a goal had to be set. What should it be? An obvious choice: the dark navi had to be searched and then destroyed before it could exploit his weakness. There was no other way.
'I...will...survive today...and...return to Net-Netto, kun...'
With the goal set, he began to drag himself forward. His mind also slowed down in avoidance of the pain, and the battle instinct substituted what intelligence he lost. Then, it was no surprise that when something grabbed him by the right shoulder, he responded in an astonishing reflex of 21 milliseconds with Seoi-nage of judo, and almost deleted the trespasser. What was brought to his front was Roll, and he barely restrained himself before his hand came down to crush her neck.
"Roll...? No, you should not be here. Nothing should be here..."
Roll was saying something to him, though the sound still did not reach him. In fact, the world was mute. Rockman tried reading her lips, but all that he could successfully interpret was that she was pleading. The effort to decipher the exact meaning triggered a mild headache, and therefore the entire endeavor was abandoned. For all he cared, the vision of Roll could be a demented hallucination that was designed to further confuse him and delay him. After all, the dark beings that leered from the celestial black aperture continuously interfered to extract a certain amount of pain and suffering at every iteration. He pushed the pink navi away and went forward. He could yet sense that another navi was near, which surely was his target.
Reaching the end of the oven network, which was a circular arena enclosed with walls, Rockman found, at the center, an armored red navi that had an iron torch for its head and torso. Was it the dark navi that he was searching for? There was no other around, so it had to be. It had both arms configured into flamethrowers—the failed attempt against him at iteration forty-two! Pathetic, but also fortunate for him. A very rare easy day it was going to be for him! With two sword chips still in his possession, he could cut that navi into eight segments in just a moment. As he concentrated strength on his legs for an explosive dash forward, he noticed that the red navi was speaking. Speechreading? No, the iron torch design of that navi's head had no orifice below its eyes. It was his auditory cortex, having been disrupted by the ungodly noise the swarm of viruses generated, slowly recovering. Had it not been that one word which was the most important to him, the attack would've already commenced.
'Netto? did it say Netto? Focus Rockman, clear the noise with the filters. What is it saying?'
The use of his computational power again caused a headache that affected the entirety of his head, but this time he endured. He had to know. Betwixt the need to understand and the pain of the body, he recognized only seven words: Fireman, turn on, oven, explode, outside, Netto, injured.
'Nonsense. Netto will be there when I wake up. Even so...no, you sorry excuse of...you will not touch my Netto kun, not even in your dreams.'
Rockman zoomed ahead like a ray of light. The distance was close enough and all possible outcomes were foreseen; at an acceptable cost of his right arm, he could guarantee the destruction of the console next to that navi, presumably named Fireman, and preclude any possibility of the oven turning on. The natural objections of 'What oven?' and 'dark navi had a name?' were quickly met with another pulse of headache and promptly withdrawn.
He saw the surprise and wonder emerging on Fireman's face, which quickly transformed into a cruel determination. Two words were recognized from its shoutings: fuck, soy face. As far as he could remember, the dark navi never had a talent for engaging in verbal insults, for all it repeated was its mantra 'strong devours the weak.' If that thing thought donning that shoddy armor and returning to past armaments to retry the failed iteration was a solution, then it was an amusing novelty. As expected, one stream of flame came at him. One hand of Fireman, instead of being utilized as a flamethrower, was reaching for the control console. It was time for his right arm to go.
Having entered the melee range of Fireman before it could respond appropriately, Rockman used his right arm to divert the stream of flame and the Firman's arm that was spewing it out. Then, equipping the sword on his left hand, the console was cut clean, rendering it completely out of order. The breakneck tempo of the attack meant Rockman had to maintain his full speed throughout the charge; after the attack, when he finally came to a halt, Fireman was a long way behind him. The resulting situation was exactly the same as before the lightning pass, minus his right arm, the orientation of the field which was 180 degrees inverted, and the destroyed oven control. To Rockman, it did not matter. The red sky, hostile navi, sword in his left hand, alone, the malicious intent, dance of life and death...so familiar to his soul. He severed and jettisoned his badly damaged right arm, which was almost dispersing. The extra weight that did not contribute to the dynamic balance was not worth carrying. He also already knew the resultant weight shift and the ensuing necessary balance recalibrations.
The second approach was more methodical than reckless. Fireman, alarmed by the previous exchange, engaged both of its flamethrowers and completely painted its entire field of vision in flames. From afar, the scene was rather beautiful, featuring two twisting flows of brilliant redness, each like a dragon, and the two making a dance of light and plasma. Up close, they were gushes of hellfire persistently seeking to envelop and pincer Rockman. The chief difficulty lay in the fact that the light and heat prevented him from observing the entirety of Fireman, thereby obfuscating its intentions.
After circling Fireman thrice and dodging the evolving attack patterns each second, Rockman found a solution. It was not a novel solution, as the general methodology he already established in the iteration forty-two, but the purpose of the skirmish was to observe and evaluate its combat routine for future exploitations. He started the approach.
Rockman made sure that his dodges were successful only by a hair's breadth, as the phosphorescence of the attack blinded both ways. To the receiver, the attacker's position and intention were shrouded. To the attacker, the near misses were difficult to correct as he lost line of sight to the vicinity of the infernal stream. Therefore, when he attained more than half the distance to the armored red navi, he stayed as close as it was possible to the flame and masked his approach. As expected, it did not take long before Fireman briefly stopped its salvo in an attempt to regain his position and vector; it was the opportunity he awaited. Dashing forward, he successfully entered the melee range, after which he processed the navi like the experienced butcher he was. A quick under-hew followed by an over-hew (vertical descending cut) separated the two flamethrower arms from the body. Rockman finished the attack by sweeping the heels with a kick, thereby causing the navi to fall backwards. A loud clunking noise followed.
Rockman casually straddled on top of the pelvis of the defenseless, mutilated navi, contemplating on the best way to ensure its destruction. He reminded himself of these considerations: when he decapitated the dark navi, it simply collected its head and walked off; when he thrust into its chest and reached the core, it simply ran away; when he cut off all four of its limbs, the umbilical pulled the remaining body away to safety. Ah, yes, the umbilical! It was the source of all of its invincibility and animations! He had to find it! The body beneath him squirmed and generated loud noises, which Rockman did not bother to translate.
He carefully made an incision along the centerline, or the best he could given the constant struggle the navi made, from the chest to the abdomen. The navi underneath him was now making even louder shouts and the most obscene remarks, among which he noticed the overwhelming frequency of usage of these two words: fuck, you. The futile resistance and meaningless defiance in the desperation of his prey pleased him. Giving it a bright smile, he unequipped the sword, and with his left hand, started pulling out everything inside haphazardly through the incision he had made. He had to find the umbilical, or the place to which it was attached. It was imperative.
'Where is it? Where is it? Did I already pull it out and not identify it?'
Despite thoroughly emptying out the navi under him, the object of his interest was not discovered. At some point, the red navi no longer moved nor made a sound, though the exact time of its occurrence escaped his attention. Rockman, confused, inspected the components and structures that he tore out. Ah, he should have planned ahead and not made such a mess, but rather should have removed them one by one and labeled them. What he was looking for—nowhere to be seen! How was he to kill it? How was he to finish it?
"I need to find it. I need to. I need to..."
Rockman mumbled while exhibiting an innocence that disturbingly contrasted with the gore in which he was drenched. After brief contemplation, it was decided that he should investigate the parts that he mistakenly lobbed far away in his rush. Just as Rockman stood up, a display screen popped in front of him. In it was Netto, tears welling up in the corner of his eyes, a knitted brow, tight lips, shocked, sad, maybe angry, and behind him, Mayl, aghast.
"...Huh? Netto kun? Why? How? Is this...real? What is with that...who made you cry? Who made you angry? Tell me, and I will-"
"ROCKMAN, CAN YOU HEAR ME? God damn it, what is wrong with him?"
The voice of Netto grounded him back to reality. The delirium vanished, leaving only fragments of it in his memory. Nothing made sense.
'Where am I? Ah, right, the oven server of Mayl. Why am I here? To check the virus infestation. Now I remember Roll cautiously suggesting that this might be a WWW sabotage...The whole place was empty and the firewall was gone without a trace. In the second sector, we found the mass execution site of oven Progs, and we agreed to pull back. But at the entrance...we met the viruses, and the network suddenly activated, the red light filled the ceiling and...argh, this headache, again...'
The memory after that was disconnected and blurred. Then what was this navi, of which body was at his feet, he just disemboweled? Worse, his Netto kun was either angry at him or sad at him. His soul quaked in the deepest fear, for he could endure the hate of the world, but not that of Netto. It was one outcome that he could not bear. It was the key to crushing his soul. In the most disordered confusion, he blankly stared at Netto, for it was all he could manage.
"ROCKMAN, RESPOND, PLEASE."
"...Ah, yes, Netto kun. I can hear you."
The one-armed blue navi, covered in fragments of everything he murdered, finally acknowledged his operator. Netto's face immediately changed into that of immeasurable relief.
"Haaaaahhh...I am so glad that you are okay. You did not respond to any of my commands. I thought, I thought I was going to lose you. Can you come back to the PET now? Thank you, Rockman, I have you now...I have you...We need to talk, Rockman, we need to talk...right...and don't. ever. leave. me. like. that. again."