Chaos in Kadoma Ward – Chapter 3

I am surrounded by people. I sit by myself in a row of chairs while everyone moves about me. It’s hard for me to distinguish between real people and androids in this city, so now I have a better idea of what Rin goes through on a daily basis. It’s easier to know they’re fake when they’re walking through fire or lunging to kill me or inactive. I don’t need a test then to show me the truth.

Here everyone looks the same, or different actually. My brain hurts just thinking about it. Like, for instance, the family sitting across from me. The man and woman look real, but are they? What about the young woman sitting next to them? She sits with a small dog on her lap, its fuzzy face bright and cheerful, a pink tongue dangling out the side of its mouth. If the dog hadn’t looked up, I would’ve thought it was a furry purse. It’s probably a clone, bought from a catalog or requested from inventory. I turn to stare out the window, at the blue sky and racing white clouds. Nothing grows wild here, does it?

My thoughts are everywhere as I stroke the spot on my wrist where I just got the microchip.

Listen, follow, observe.

Movement at the men’s bathroom door catches my eye, and I look up in time to see Rin stride out in his full Kiiroi Yama gear. Men and women bow to him, spreading out and giving him room to move around. He pays them no mind, doesn’t even acknowledge them. His jaw is set as he rubs the top of his head again, his ambivalence showing as his fingers coast over the stubble on his scalp. I sit up as he comes walking towards me, watching the people across from me get up and leave as he draws near. They scurry off, glancing over their shoulders and relaxing with relief when they realize Rin is not going to follow them.

“Are you all set?” he asks, setting his black bag on the seat next to me.

“I’m fine, for now.” I sweep my hands out and smile. “It’s not as if I have any clothes to change into, a tooth brush to brush my teeth or even a hairbrush. The monks wouldn’t let me take anything,” I grumble, trying to smooth out my wrinkled shirt. I’m attempting to blend in as much as possible, but that’s difficult when everyone around me looks so nice. If I were to judge the entire society based on twenty minutes of sitting in the public lounge of the spaceport, I would expect everyone to be pressed, finessed, and ready to walk the runway.

Rin sighs. “Somehow I’m not surprised. Come on,” he beckons, shouldering his bag once again.

I follow at his side, past the lounge area, the convenience stores, the restaurants and bars, and down the long brilliantly white hallway towards the exit signs. My head is on a permanent swivel, following this man and that woman, the cat on a leash, the owl perched on a little girl’s shoulder, the woman with the giant snake around her neck. Eek. I give her a wide berth.

People, androids, animals. I would expect the scene to be raucous, full of chattering and laughing. But instead, people are polite and quiet, shuffling out of the way, keeping their opinions and their animals to themselves. Most of them stare straight ahead, not engaged with the world around them.

“If you’re going to gawk, you should be a little more surreptitious about it,” Rin whispers, his lips curled into a wicked smile. When he smiles, his right cheek indents like a mountain cliff’s edge. It twists the scar along the back of his head, connecting the two as if some sculptor was carving his lips and the chisel slipped.

“I can’t help it. Everyone is so quiet and complacent. This place is utterly fascinating.”

“You think?” He looks around, following my lead, then shrugs his shoulders. “It’s all right.”

I raise my eyebrows at him. All right? That’s not what I expect from someone wealthy like him.

An older woman, her hands and arms preoccupied with three dogs, angles to move out of our way. I scoff and pull Rin with me around her.

“Maybe you should be a little more aware of your surroundings.”

Rin chuckles, and once again, I get the feeling he thinks of me as an uneducated but adorable five-year-old. “When I wear the uniform, it’s expected I have the right-of-way. They’re only doing what they’re supposed to do.” His smile cools, the humor lost. “Just like me. It’s the way things are.”

He indicates we should turn left, and I glance up at the floating signs and find we’re making our way to the trains. I tilt my head to get a better look at the sign. Is it a projection? I can’t tell. But like most of the things I’ve seen so far, this technology is so advanced, it might as well be magic.

I hurry to keep up with Rin. ‘It’s the way things are’ did not sound like it was the way things ought to be. If we’re going to be together all the time, I should see if I can influence these people with tales from home.

“In my society, we give way to the elderly or parents with children or anybody who looks like they can’t move faster than we can.”

Rin cuts a path through a crowd. “The same is true here. When I’m not dressed in uniform, I get treated like anyone else.”

“And how often is that?” I widen my eyes showing that he’s so comfortable with the way things are, he must sleep in his uniform.

“More often than you think. It’s expected that I wear my uniform while outside of my home ward at the very least.” He clears his throat, trying to look more in charge of things. “It’s protocol. I don’t break protocol unless I have to. Growing up poor and orphaned taught me to follow the rules, even if I don’t agree with them.”

He broke protocol to butt into Narumi’s auction and buy me. I let a small smile linger as I continue by his side, but it falls as I process more of his words. Perhaps Rin is not so happy here. I took him for the perfect citizen, but maybe that’s not the case.

I’m getting a better understanding of him, but I don’t know him well enough yet, I don’t think. I need more time with him to tell the lies from the truth. My old boss, Chiéko Mori, who may still be alive somewhere, used to tell me I was the absolute best human lie detector, even if I couldn’t lie myself. It was what made me a good journalist. Now, the rules have changed, and I must readjust, or I will forever question myself.

New rule: take everything at face value unless my instincts flare up and warn me. I need to put my journalistic ways to use somehow. I just don’t know how that is yet.

Listen, follow, observe. Snippets of conversation float along to me — this one is late for his flight, that one can’t believe her android screwed up the blue suit, another is pissed at the current price of her special dog food. Everyone looks busy and professional. Good. I can work with professionals. Passing signs to the train, they light up and change for us, advertising getaway vacations and relaxing hot springs. Rin sighs as we walk past, his eyes lingering on the tropical beaches and palm trees. I wonder if that’s near the equator.

“Do the signs all know you’re a workaholic?” I giggle as he stiffens up. Oops, I guessed correctly. I change the subject. “They certainly are interesting. How do they work?”

“What do you mean?” I get this question a lot from him when I’m not specific enough.

“How do they appear there? Are they a projection of some kind? They look almost completely real like I shouldn’t walk through them.”

“You might find they hurt your eyes if you do, but yes. They’re a projection. We call them tōsha. They’re everywhere, a normal part of life.”

“Huh,” I grunt, turning my head to watch the signs change for people behind us. Other tōsha hang in the air above restaurants and on corners. A potted plant I thought was real flickers in the changing light as I walk past. This corridor would be a blank space without them.

We approach a series of metal turnstiles, and Rin floats his right hand over the sensor. It chimes as a display registers his ID and credits pending. I do the same, watching my name and ID appear before me, tied to Rin’s name and credits. So I guess this is how my life will be. With every transaction or trip I take, I’ll always be tied to Rin.

The train platform is up a set of stairs in the open air, covered to keep the elements off commuters. Announcements echo along the platform, and more floating signs indicate a train will arrive in three minutes.

“Whenever you take the train, always look for our classification along the ground,” Rin says, striding to one end of the platform. ‘Our’ classification? I hustle to keep up, his legs longer than mine can cover ground twice as fast as I can. I glance at the advertisements as I pass and they all dissolve to blank scenery. For Rin, they try to persuade him to take a vacation. For me, they don’t know what to do. They’re not the only ones.

“Why? What classification?”

“Use your powers of observation.” He falls into line behind a woman in a bright green kimono. To our left and right, men and women dressed for business await the oncoming train, either staring into the distance or reading on their tablets.

If I had to guess, which is what Rin wants me to do, the front cars of the train are for those with higher social standing. The lit paths under my feet all declare class designations: daimyō, samurai, artisans, merchants, farmers. We’re standing with the samurai class.

“Looks like the caste system is alive and well here,” I whisper at Rin, and the woman in the green kimono turns around, her eyebrows drawn together as she looks me over. Her gaze falls on Rin and becomes apologetic before bowing and returning her attention forward.

“Yes, I suppose you could call it that, but our system rewards those who climb the corporate ladder. Just take a look around you. All of these people work long days and nights. No one is stuck in their class if they want to do something different.”

I open my mouth twice before answering. “You put the farmers at the back of the train. What am I supposed to learn from that?”

He hesitates and shrugs his shoulders. “That the back of the train is the closest exit to the farming region?” He sweeps his hand in the opposite direction. “That’s the front of the train when it goes there.”

Hmph. This all feels artificial and wrong, inorganic and structured. But maybe instead it’s considerate and comforting. Everything in its place.

I don’t know what to think of this.

“We all want to make Hikari a better place for those who come after us. Hikari is all we have.” Rin’s eyes are far away, dreaming of the past, the future, and whatever else he sees. And for a moment, I see the true Rin, the man who worked hard and spent his savings to right an injustice. Just like my mother. My stone cold heart thaws a degree.

“It doesn’t have to be that way,” I whisper, rising to my tiptoes and settling my hand on his arm. I lean close to his ear as the train rushes into the station and whips the wind around us. “I’m here now.”

The motor of the train whines down as we stare at each other. Rin holds steady, gauging me as he did in the test. He’s probably so good at the test, he doesn’t even need his specialized eye disc to see I mean this, that my heart beats swiftly, my adrenaline is spiked, and my hearing is so tuned my ears ring. Orihimé and Hikoboshi were meant to be together, just like the lovers in the stars.

But when he doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, I begin to doubt. We came here to find our long-lost ancestors. We came from Orihimé to find colleagues, family, new lovers and friends. And as much as I don’t want to believe it, I feel something for Rin, a tiny ache way back where I stored my broken heart so long ago. Maybe it’s nothing, though. Maybe it’s just me looking for a way out.

Or maybe this is something more.

I grimace as I pull away, doubt blossoming all over my face. “But perhaps you want to keep it that way.” I let my eyes drop along with my head, watching the green kimono woman in front of me fade from view as she follows the line into the car. This is a bad idea. What the hell am I doing?

Rin grabs my arm — the first real contact we’ve had in weeks — and I lift my eyes to his.

“No. I want to be free, Yumi. We all need to be free, be united. We cannot keep going like this. You are the key. You’re my freedom.”