Takahashi Corp. © 2054
言語設定
日本語 英語
はい ない
終わった！
５％．．．５０％．．．１００％．．．システムがアクティブ。
Profiling start… Name: Akira Nakajima… Gender: Female… Age: 16… Height: 149 cm… Weight: approx. 42 kg… Blood type: A…
Configurations and profiling are all done. Enjoy seeing the world from a whole new perspective.
。．．．
The first thing I saw when I opened my new eyes was an angel. At least I assumed she was one, with her long blond hair, pale skin, and white dress. Was she the one tasked with taking me away from this world? I didn’t want to die, but if I would be with her, then I might be fine with that. I had loved her from the moment I first saw her. I’d thought that someone so beautiful could exist only in myth, but here she was in the flesh. Real as could be. It only took my family and the left half of my body before I could meet her.
I could still see Mom and Dad; their bodies broken, crushed, and mutilated in the mixture of hellfire and twisted metal even as pools of my own blood covered my vision in a hazy crimson. As everything went dark, I tried crying out to them, to make sure they were alright, but only more blood came out. Please move. The last thing I saw was my mother’s arm twitching. I reached out to her, but all that I held out was a bleeding stump, raw bone unable to touch what remained of a woman smiling minutes before. Dad, help her. There was no more Dad. The side of the car he was in had been completely caved in. My arm was ripped off and my leg was crushed under the metal.
The angel was still there, holding my new hand. Why couldn’t I feel her? Metal and plastic were merged with my skin; I wasn’t human anymore. I shouldn’t even be alive.
Are mom and dad okay? I wanted to ask her, but nothing felt real, like a fading dream I was never going to wake up from. Was she the dream? This had to be a dream. Was I still at the accident site? Were these the last thoughts I would have before dying?
I could still feel them—my arm, my leg, my eyes but why not her touch? Faint mumbling turned her attention away, and all that was left was a light above that pained my artificial eyes. Still, I couldn’t tear them away.
I hadn’t stood in front of a mirror yet, but I knew what would be staring back wouldn’t be me. She came back after a minute and placed my new hand on her face. Her eyes came into my blurred view, and she had a piece of the ocean in them. Words came out of her mouth, but amidst a garbled mess I couldn’t understand, the only one that stuck out was, “…sister…”.
．。．．
A year had passed since I was taken in by Sakura Takahashi, but her daughter Yuri still wouldn’t get the message that all of our staring contests would result in her losing. She had gotten better though. At first, she could at most handle twenty or thirty seconds, but now she could keep her eyes open for upwards of a whole ninety seconds. The holotube may have been projecting a show in the background, Sakura may have been arguing with her investors, and her bodyguard Marcus may have been trying to calm her down, but nothing would get between us in those ninety seconds. Her stubbornness to win might have been incredibly annoying, but there was a sea to get lost into.
She blinked.
“Darn it,” she whimpered. “Can’t you throw me a freebie for once?”
“Never! You have to earn your victories!”
“Mom! Aki’s being mean!”
“For the love of God, Akira! Be nice to your sister!” Sakura shouted. Why shouldn’t I gloat when I win against her?
She squinted and stuck her tongue out. “See? Even mom thinks you should be more humble with your victories!”
“Piss off, Yuri; you’re just a sore loser!” I retorted.
“Whatever.” Her phone’s alarm went off, and when she checked it, her face turned paler than it usually was, and she muttered, “How did I forget this?”
A smirk dawned on my face as I called out to Sakura, “Hey! Someone forgot to do her homework!”
I heard a faint murmur. Probably obscenities in English before she yelled, “Dammit Yuri, aren’t you too old to be putting things off?”
Yuri let out a sigh before standing up from the couch and shuffling off to her room. Each tiny stomp across the shiny marble floors echoed throughout the minimally furnished penthouse. When she looked back and caught a glance at me, I winked coyly to which she gave me the finger. For whatever reason, I think she looked really cute whenever she got angry. Not a moment passed before a frustrated and tired Sakura trudged her way over to me, and asked, “And what about you? Can you prove not all girls your age aren’t slackers?”
I shrugged. “I’d like to think so, Ms. Sakura. Got everything done.”
With a grimace, she nodded as her phone started ringing. With her eyes to the ground and an angry bite, she reluctantly tapped her ear and started discussing business things I hadn’t the least clue about. Meanwhile, as all this went on, a man of mythical stature stood in the background with a confused look on his face. Poor Marcus. Had he understood a word? Maybe a few. His Japanese had improved quite a bit over the past couple of months, but he was an American, so I wasn’t so sure how much longer he would keep this momentum for. For all the muscle he had, he was apparently a greatly intelligent man, but it’s understandably difficult to get that across with the language barrier. At least, that’s what Sakura said about him. I wouldn’t doubt her; he always gave out good advice whenever I’d ask him anything.
He caught me looking at him and gave a peace sign. I smiled and motioned for him to sit by me, but he shook his head. I guess he wanted to stick with Sakura.
I turned my attention back to her, whose golden blonde hair projected a beam that blasted into my face. I would have turned away from the sheer awe if it weren’t for the metal cameras working as replacements for my eyes taking into account intense light and intense darkness far better and quicker than any fine pair of naturally made peepers. Like Yuri’s hair, or really, Yuri herself had this ethereal quality to her. She always looked like an angel to me. The kind you’d see in paintings based of Abrahamic myth, but only the ones done after human proportions were figured out by artists.
It could be hard to tell that you’re looking at a person sometimes. Yuri, being as immature as she is, would often challenge me to staring contests despite knowing full well I had no need to blink because metal didn’t need to be hydrated. Other than the thrill of winning, I would never object to her contests to let myself get absorbed in that ocean behind her eyes. They had this hypnotic energy, and the longer I looked into them, the more my heart fluttered and my mind filled with what ifs. Was the reason she challenged me so often for a similar reason? A demonic red hue emanated from my eyes that, as my peers in school would describe, gave off a sensual vibe of sorts. It was just a novelty factor for them. Something hot because the tech was still relatively new, and wouldn’t the person who gets to be with the cyborg be the coolest guy or girl in school! It made me feel like the new doll everyone creamed themselves over just because it was the new fad. After that it will inevitably be forgotten in a few months, and I’ll be dumped once I have to be evaluated for my qualities as a person. Was that all I was to them? A human-sized ningyōu you could fuck? As bitter as I generally felt about people’s affections for me, I smiled a bit at the thought this one girl sending me a second letter after I turned her initial love letter down:
Oh Nakajima, your eyes emit an unnatural glow that can only be described as existing on only the most beautiful servants of Hell. Perhaps you sold your humanity for your appearance? For all the fire you appear to have, your personality is nothing short of a stinging blizzard.
All I knew was that, as of late, whenever I closed my eyes and began the process of drifting off, this talk between two versions of me would play out. It probably went something like this:
“How does it feel? To know that when you say ‘I love you’ to her and she says ‘I love you’ back, they have completely different meanings?”
“Not sure. I feel sick.”
“Sick because she does not love you in the same way, or sick because you’re supposed to see her as family?”
“Both? What does it matter anyway? Dolls’ minds don’t work the same way the minds of humans do.”
“Dolls? You think of us as being a doll?”
“What else? We sure as hell aren’t human anymore. There isn’t supposed to be this much metal stuck inside us.”
“What’s the threshold determining how much metal divides humans from machines? Much of you is still flesh and bone, so setting that standard seem arbitrary, especially since there are those more enhanced than us who still see themselves as human. Besides, Mom and Dad would be glad that we’re still alive, even in this cybernetically enhanced form.”
“Could I have saved them? If I managed to reach Mom, let her know that I was alive? Do you think they would—”
“There’s no point in dwelling on the past. What happened is in the past, and thinking about it would only reopen old wounds. That’s why we seal it away; we keep the hurt closed. Easy to do when we are, as you put it, a doll.”
“Do you think she sees us as human?”
“Even if we are a doll wearing a person’s skin, she will see us as human.”
．．。．
The moon was high in the sky as I stepped outside to get a breath of fresh air. A crisp breeze nibbled on my face as I stepped over a thin layer of snow and towards the balcony to overlook this corner of the city. Every singular light on the streets below, from the ones coming from apartment buildings, to businesses, to cars, to even streetlights, appeared as stars, each representing an individual with dreams that may be fulfilled, but most likely remain as that: only dreams.
“Ko’nichiwa, Nakajima-chan.” I spun around to face Marcus stepping out with a cigarette in his mouth. His poofy afro grazed the top of the doorway as he sauntered my way before planting himself next to me.
“Hey, Mr. Wen. And for your information, at this time it’s konbanwa,” I replied with a slight grin.
He brushed me off. “Yeah, yeah.” He lit the cigarette and took a long drag on it before asking, “Out so late? Sneaking a smoke?”
I shook my head. “No, it’s nothing like that. It just looks nice out…”
He shrugged before taking another drag. “I see.”
I continued looking down at all the twinkling stars on the ground. “Hey, Mr. Wen. Can I ask you something personal?”
He snubbed out the cigarette before placing it in a portable ashtray he kept in his jacket’s inner pocket. “Sure.”
“What’s it like to love someone intensely?”
We both stared at each other for a long while as he processed the question. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand it, but more like he was trying to figure out his answer. His eyes softened and a previously neutral, if not slightly pleased, expression turned melancholic. Maybe he was going to bluff and state that he didn’t know, or come up with some half-assed answer.
“Jigoku.”
I was flabbergasted by his answer. There must have been a mistranslation with what he said. The only thing I could think of to reply with was, “Can…can you repeat that please?”
“Hell. Love is hell, Nakajima.”
“Why do you say that? Was there someone you loved?”
He leaned forward, stared off into the starless sky, and nodded. “Yes. She’s dead. My fault.”
Everything inside me wanted to say something. Anything at all. I’m sorry. How is it your fault? There was probably nothing you could do. Who was she? What was her name? She must have meant a lot to you.
Nothing came out. I held out a hand, and touched his arm. What else could I have done? Compared with the harsh cold, his touch felt like a furnace. Little horned men must have been inside him, keeping whatever furnace inside him alive and burning.
He turned his attention back to me with a sorrowful expression and stated, “Nakajima, thank you.”
“What for? I didn’t say anything.”
“People speak, but they don’t understand. You understand.” He took a deep breath in and exhaled, as if he was trying to hold back tears. “Love her, don’t you? That’s how you can understand.”
“Are you talking about Yuri? She’s supposed to be my sister; of course I love her.”
He chuckled a bit. “That’s shit. You look at her the same I looked at Aria.”
“Was that her name?”
He nodded. “Thought she escaped my mind when I dated again. Just hurt more people. I can’t escape her smile.” He rubbed his eyes a bit before continuing. “The way you look at Yuri was the way I looked at Aria.”
“And what about Yuri? How does she see me?”
He took out another cigarette and gazed at the street below. “Sakura’s sending Yuri away. Boarding school in Tokyo.”
He must have been joking. “Excuse me? The two of us are doing just fine here. Unless—does Sakura know?”
“Sees you as her own, but bloodline is important.” I stayed silent. Thoughts weren’t in order. Marcus continued. “Sakura’s not a bad person. Cold? Yes.”
“You have to be cold to be on top, right?” I murmured. “In the beginning, she wanted me to call her mother, but I never did. Wasn’t a refusal; I just called her by her given name.”
Marcus nodded and replied, “Right.” He would know. He knew Sakura better than anybody, including her own daughter. There’s an image we have constructed about people. The more you know about a person, the more beautiful, cracked, detailed, flawed, hideous, and vibrant that picture becomes, but it will only ever remain a picture.
“Do you love Sakura, Mr. Wen?”
“The image of her maybe.” He scratched his head and cracked his neck. “Is the image of Yuri what you love?”
It was almost a little insulting that he asked that, but it wasn’t like I could absolutely refute him. I talked about Yuri a lot, I thought about her a lot, but we weren’t exactly the closest of people. We never really spoke much, and whenever we did speak, most of the time it was out of annoyance or petty fights. It can take a while to form an opinion of someone. Was spending a year living with her enough? Were any of these feelings valid when actual interactions likely cause negative emotions towards someone to form? “I’m not sure. Perhaps. When I look at her, it’s almost as if nothing else matters, but when it comes to speaking, or rather, communicating, I know we don’t do that too much.”
“Tell her. Before she goes.”
“Why? What if she doesn’t feel the same? She’ll look at me as a freak who fell in love with her sister!”
“Quiet!” he exclaimed. “She won’t. Chances are the love is different, but she does love you.”
“I suppose, but will she even trust me after that?”
“Likely. Maybe it was cruel to have you call her sister. You were adopted at sixteen, right?”
“I was sixteen, yes. Little old to be adopted, don’t you think?”
“In terms of typical adoptions, sure. Legally, not. Either way, so what? Tell her?”
“I think—I’m not sure. Maybe.”
The wind was starting to pick up, as if it wanted to join the conversation despite having nothing to contribute.
“When you mentioned that I understood, I’m not sure if that had to do with love.”
He glanced at me, confused. “Meaning?”
“I don’t understand love, Mr. Wen. I think—I think it’s pain I understand. The hurt of losing someone.”
“Your parents?”
I nodded. “I want to remember them through all the good times we had. The smiles, the laughs, the smell of homemade katsu, all of it. But when I think of them, all I see is fire and twisting metal, all I hear is its horrible crackle, and all I smell is burnt flesh. I thought I could save my mom by reaching out to her, touching her shoulder, reminding her that her little girl was still fine, but like the idiot that I was, I reached out with the gaping hole where my left arm used to be.” I choked a bit and laughed. “I probably squirted blood on her instead; I couldn’t see anything at that point. That was probably what did her in. Not like I can ask her.” I looked at my feet.
“It is okay to cry.”
I smiled. “Dolls can’t cry, Mr. Wen.”
“Doll? I thought you were a cyborg.”
“Please, that would make me sound cool.”
“I guess you are cool then.”
There was a brief silence between us before I let out a tiny chuckle. He smiled and started laughed. I laughed soon after. We must’ve looked like the biggest pair of fools, laughing at nothing.
The mad laughter subsided. “Your parents would be proud of you. I’m sure of it.”
“I suppose they would be.” I craned my head up, towards the sky. “Do you think they’re looking at me now? Would they judge me for how I turned out without them?”
“Depends on what you believe in.”
“I’m not sure if there is anything to believe in.”
We fell silent. The wind took its time to speak. Marcus and I didn’t bother interrupting the nothing it had to say.
“I’d like to cry again one day,” I stated after a time. “But I know that day will never come because my ducts were removed along with everything else where my eyes used to be.”
Marcus nodded, but didn’t say anything. He understood.
My face was getting numb and having frozen metal stuck in your head was never a fun time. I made the trek back from the edge of the balcony to the sliding glass door to warmth when Marcus called out to me, “Miss Nakajima!”
I stopped in my track and faced the direction behind me. At this point, I was pretty far away from Marcus, but there was this gnawing feeling that we were as close as before. I muttered out a barely audible, “Yeah, Mr. Wen?”
With a sad smile, he exclaimed, “You’re not lifeless like a doll! Whether you can cry or not, your heart beats like any other person!”
“O.K. Mr. Wen! Whatever you say! I’ll keep that in mind!” I hurried back to the door, but before getting back inside, I stole a quick glance towards him as he stood alone, facing a city thousands of kilometers away from his home.
Doll. Ningyōu. Human. Ningen. Maybe it doesn’t really matter whether I’m a doll or human. As long as I think of myself as human, then that is what I will live as.
．．．。
The snow had melted, and a new spring sun had dawned on us. It shined down on the penthouse, reflecting off the floor to create a bright, yet hazy and dream-like feel. Yuri and I were cooking a beef stew for lunch, me doing everything and her acting as emotional support, and by emotional support I mean egging me on to hurry up because she was hungry. Originally I was cooking by myself, but she came when I accidentally chipped the knife’s blade when it lost a brief confrontation against my finger. It became a little nerve-wracking to cut more because I could very well do even more damage to it if I wasn’t careful. Yuri stood behind and told me in a hushed tone that I could do it before mentioning her own hunger and telling me to hurry.
With everything cut up, I placed the knife in the sink and shoveled everything into a pot and turned the stove’s heat up. After washing my hands, I rubbed Yuri’s head in appreciation for her form of encouragement, messing up her hair. She pouted as I half-heartedly attempted to fix it. Weird to think that she was the older one with how we interact with each other.
Once the meal was done, I served her and myself a bowl while saving the leftovers for Marcus and Sakura. The two of us ate in front of the television in silence for a brief while. Every now and again, I stole a glance at the suitcases standing close to the front door. I smiled and asked Yuri if she was excited.
“For Tokyo?” she replied.
“Yeah. Be a real change of pace from here!”
“I suppose so.” Her head drooped down and she stared at the only piece of potato left in the stew.
“What’s wrong?”
“I dunno. I guess I’ll just miss Sapporo; that’s all.”
“Even if I’m out of your hair for a long time?”
It seemed like she was about to respond, but just turned back to her food. The wind outside wanted to chime in, but we paid it no heed.
“I should double check everything, and make sure I didn’t forget to pack anything.” Yuri sluggishly stood up and took her bowl to the kitchen sink. I followed behind her.
As I placed my bowl next to hers, we took a quick glance at each other which eventually became another of our staring contests. We were close. Uncomfortably close. Her slow breathing formed a gentle breeze across my face.
“Hey, Aki…” she whispered.
“What?”
“The most beautiful thing about you has always been your eyes.”
I blinked.
Eva Gonzalez
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