Fukusha Model Eight – Chapter 4

Chop, chop, chop.

I learned a lot from Kay, the android metronome, at K&G Noodles.

Saki and I stand next to each other and chop vegetables for tomorrow’s shift. Better to stay late and prep for the next day rather than come in early. The lunch and evening shifts were hectic, and my feet hurt standing in the clogs I bought in Shin-Osaka. I pause, looking past my pile of carrots on the counter to my shoes. Where did I buy these again? I had been fed up with Kotashi and Gina, and I went on a spending spree, but I remember nothing about the store I shopped in.

“What’s up?” Saki asks, also pausing. She picks up her beer and takes a generous gulp. “You look confused. Missing something?”

“Yeah. Memories. I’ve noticed parts of my shorter-term memory are fading.” I grab my beer from next to the pile of unpeeled carrots. “I think I’m a little young to be dealing with memory loss.”

Saki shrugs. “Maybe you’re becoming senile in your old age.”

“If twenty-six is old, then you must be ancient.”

She laughs, throwing back her head. “I walked straight into that.” She returns to her pile of green onions. “I wouldn’t worry too much. It probably has something to do with lack of sleep and a poor diet.”

I want to argue with her, tell her about the three concussions I’ve sustained in the last year, the crippling migraines, and how the crazy weather systems here fuck with my head. But I can’t tell her any of that. Every time I’ve had a migraine here in Kitakyushu, I’ve called in sick to work and dealt with it on my own. Well, I had Ninjin’s help, but he’s not as attentive as Kazuo or Rin. I was docked pay for the days I couldn’t come in, but my boss is flexible and hasn’t threatened to fire me yet.

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” I say, grabbing a handful of the carrot scraps. Out the back door, I take a break with my beer and feed Ninjin his daily supply of carrots.

“I promise to buy a bag of dog food tomorrow,” I remind him as he rests his head on my lap. “It’s been two weeks, so I think I can get away with it.”

Atsumi locks up my funds every week because I’m supposed to be poor. It seems immoral to starve my dog because I have to keep up with appearances, but that’s why he comes to work with me. No one cares if the scraps end up in his belly or in the compost.

The back door opens again, and the rest of the kitchen staff joins me. They’re a nice group of people to work with. I have no complaints except that I still feel lost here every day. I’m not supposed to be slinging noodles and waiting tables. I’m supposed to be finding Shiroi Nami or hoping they find me. I’m supposed to be taking care of my people. I’m supposed to be with Rin. Where is he?

Two of the guys, Koro and Akira, pull up plastic chairs next to me and sit down with weary sighs. Saki scratches behind Ninjin’s ears but remains standing. She stretches her arms and bends over to stretch her back and legs.

“Heading to the fights tonight?” Koro asks. He pulls out a cigarette and lights it up with his permanent match. This was also a new thing to me in Kitakyushu. No one in Shin-Osaka smoked. But so many people here grow their own herbs for smoking, and no one stops them.

“Of course. It looks like there are a few people I can fight tonight. Should be able to make an extra five hundred credits,” Saki replies, cracking her knuckles.

Akira whistles. “If I wasn’t already broke, I’d be there. But I just paid rent.” He raises his beer can, and we all raise ours in return.

“So did I. So if I want to eat this month, I’ve gotta fight.”

“Whatever happened to nice young girls finding a sugar daddy?” Koro takes a long pull from his cigarette before winking at Saki.

“Are you applying for the job?”

I roll my eyes at those two, always flirting with each other. I keep telling Saki to sleep with him already, but she’s ‘got no time for his nonsense.’

“If I had any sugar, you’d be the first to get it.”

We laugh as she exaggeratedly blows on her fingernails.

“Stop,” I plead. “You’re making Ninjin jealous.”

Everybody laughs and drinks, and I take a deep breath before looking up at the stars. I wonder what’s going on back home.

“Did you guys hear about the attack on the Aoi Uma exchange today?” Akira asks, downing the rest of his beer and pulling his tablet out of his bag near his feet.

“Saki and I were out for a walk this morning when we saw the building go up in flames. It was crazy.” I make eye contact with Saki, hopefully conveying we should leave out the part where we were questioned by Kiiroi Yama officers.

“You could feel the heat from two blocks away, so we avoided the area,” she says. “I wonder what happened. Was it an accident?”

Akira hums, tapping away at his tablet. “I don’t think so. Someone claimed credit for it, and their video manifesto has been all over the old Aka Matsuba forums. Do you ever go in there?”

“No,” I say at the same time Saki says, “Sometimes.”

I glance over at her, her arms crossed and leaning against the building. I wonder what she does in the underground forums. Is she there talking smack about her wins in the ring? Searching out old flames? No. My money is on something a bit more political. Her reaction after walking away from the burning building told me more about her than I’ve learned in the last three weeks.

“Take a look at this.” Akira gestures us over to him. He’s buried deep in some thread of the forum that concentrates on Kitakyushu news. The subject reads Aoi Uma must be stopped.

Akira taps the play button and a handsome man I’ve never seen before addresses the camera. His head is shaved on one side, and his chin-length hair swoops over and covers his right eye. A small slash of a nose, full lips, and a round chin with a divot cut out of it capture my attention before he starts speaking.

“Aoi Uma must be stopped. The Fukusha Model Eight is a danger to our society and everything we hold dear. Narumi Ogawa doesn’t want to help us; she wants to replace us. With an intelligent workforce at her fingertips, Ogawa will cull the poor and disabled to be the consciousness for her future androids. No free will. No emotions. No love, no families, and no hope for our future. We cannot let her bring these androids into full production. Tell your community leaders, your bosses, your corporations to reject the Fukusha Model Eight and demand that Aoi Uma honor the promises it made after the Tōkaku War. And until production is stopped, we will continue to strike at any of Aoi Uma’s businesses. We are the Samurai Seven, and we will not stop until Narumi Ogawa and her entire corporation are in jail.”

Everyone is quiet for a few moments as they let that sink in.

“Samurai Seven? Wasn’t there an old film from twentieth-century Japan called Seven Samurai?” Akira asks. Saki turns and paces away before coming back and scratching Ninjin behind the ears.

“I don’t know.” I remember all the times Rin referred to Terran science fiction, and I smirk. My father is the Earth junkie, not me. I was always too busy chasing leads to sit down and talk about old movies. I really think my dad and Rin would get along if they ever met.

“What do you think?” I ask Saki. She looks concerned, staring at the video with her eyes focused, and her eyebrows drawn inward. But now she waves me off.

“Ah, whatever,” she says, sighing and stretching her arms again. “None of this concerns us, right? We’re just a bunch of outcastes, working in a noodle shop, drinking a beer on a Friday night, and going to the fights. Speaking of which, let’s finish up inside and lock up so we can get going.” She hauls open the door and returns to the bright kitchen.

“I guess that’s the end of our break.” Koro snuffs out his cigarette and drops it into his empty beer can.

“Be right there.” I sit down again next to Ninjin, wanting just a few more moments of peace.

“Hey, be on the lookout out here,” Koro says, pausing at the door. “One of the temp waitresses said she saw some giant, long bug in the trash out here yesterday. It really scared the crap out of her, but none of us had ever seen it.”

A giant, long bug scared the crap out of a waitress? We have bugs the size of my hand back home.

I roll my eyes. “That’s why I have a dog.”

“I don’t know. She said it was as big as a dog.” He shrugs as he returns to the kitchen.

Samurai Seven. Who the hell are they? And why hasn’t Atsumi nor Rin told me anything about them? I’ve got to figure that anybody who despises Aoi Uma like we do has to be an ally. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, right? Or are they just another enemy?

Ninjin hops up from his spot next to me, his ears facing forward, and his eyes trained on the adjacent alleyway.

“What’s up, boy?” I clutch his leash close to my chest as he growls.

My whole body tenses, all the muscles in my legs freezing up as my heart races. The reason I have Ninjin in the first place is to warn me of impending disaster before it happens. He was the best of his litter, always sensing danger before any of his brothers or sisters. I love him for his snuggles and kisses too, but his instincts are second to none.

Ninjin’s growls grow deeper, and I convince my body to lean to the left to get a better view down the alleyway.

Someone is definitely there.

Ninjin barks twice and lunges, pulling me out of the chair.

“Hey!” I yell. “You there!”

The back door opens again, and Koro exits the kitchen.

“What’s wrong? Everything okay?” he asks, coming up next to me and looking down the alleyway. Whoever was there is gone, and Ninjin’s growls have subsided to a high-pitched whine.

“Ninjin and I saw someone at the end of the alleyway, but he’s gone.” I crouch down next to Ninjin and smooth out the fur on his head, kissing him between the eyes, and giving him a big hug. “It’s okay, boy. Good job.”

Koro stands with his hands on his hips looking down the alleyway. “Want me to go check and see if anybody’s there?”

“No. Don’t worry about it. Probably someone who just lost his way.”

But even as I say it, I know there’s something wrong. Really wrong.

He was the right size, and the street lamp bounced off of his shaved head. He didn’t say a word though.

I’m sure I was seeing things, but I swear it was… Rin.