artificial [1]
← Prologue
Chapter 2 →
Plip, plop, plip, plop. Rain splattered on windowsills with cracked glass, staining the chemical streaked skies grey with color, for a moment washing away the grit and grime of the city, clearing up the smoke choking up the atmosphere. Despite all this, the rain did not hinder the psychedelic lights that glowed neon bright, an explosion of colors on a dreary landscape.
The splendor of Ginza, glass towers piled high to the sky and laughter abound, a playground of bustling activity, lights perpetually shining bright. Children prowled the streets of Shinjuku, fighting for their lives, while rundown buildings cast shadows on their cries, a shroud of ignorance as they scream their voices hoarse.
A baby cried in the distance as his mother bounced him on her hip, face gaunt and lines etched deep with battles hard-fought for hunger. The father was elsewhere, working until his fingers were worn to the bone and every muscle in his body screamed upon aches that never went away. He comes home to a family that loves him for who he is.
Lights glitter not far away, with women who slept on feather-down beds with jewels around their throats, and men plump with food the children of the nation starved for. Flouncing around in their finery, trinkets weighing down their limbs like shackles and chains, they knew not of the things outside their windows in the flurry of raindrops.
Elsewhere, a boy sat cross-legged on the floor, his eyes bright and curious. “So…Keito, how do I do this?” Looking over the other’s shoulder, Arioka Ryuutaro shifted his position, eyes darting back and forth from the screen of the maikon and the sleeping figure of his brother, Daiki.
“Basically, after you’ve gotten yourself into the system, you need to cover up your tracks. Don’t leave trails that can be linked back to you. The easiest way is to sweep, but that involves a lot of coding, so I won’t go into that,” Keito responded, typing out strings of commands to erase traces of Daiki’s latest heist. “I really shouldn’t be talking to you about this, though, Ryuutaro-kun.”
Ryuutaro frowned lightly, biting his lip at the response he received. Around them, the room was littered ceiling-high with clothing, dry foods all pushed in one corner, and the depressing remnant of a bed at the other. The maikon and its various extensions dominated the wall next to a broken window looking down upon the monochrome scenery below.
Mold grew in the corners and the single light bulb hung bare from the ceiling, suspended on a wire, causing the light to wax and wane as inertia took over, swinging the light back and forth, back and forth. It was hard to imagine a person living in such conditions, never mind three teenage boys, but they did.
The younger boy crossed his arms, doing the best of his abilities to pout cutely and look positively innocent in hopes of winning Keito over. For added effect, he sniffed, eyes growing doe-wide and shimmering with what looked like tears.
Silence.
Keito grimaced. Evidently, this tactic was working. More silence. The rain had escalated from a drizzle to a downpour, drowning the asphalt below in a flood of acidic droplets, the air was piercing and sour, a smell that went right up the nostrils like burning wires to the brain. It sounded like a million cicadas serenading to the summer air of days long gone. His ears rang as the sound persisted, thunder crackling dangerously, though he was glad it was drowned out the neighbor’s voices.
From the paper thin walls over, a couple argued over the month’s rent as the woman cried her heart out, her arms wrapped around a child too young to understand the meaning of all this. The man yelled, his voice loud enough to reach the skies and shrill enough to break through windows, like that would be of any help at all, then retreated into one corner trying to hold back tears. Ryuutaro flinched at the sounds-they had been arguing ever since last week, the Yamashita’s, he worried but Daiki insisted they not be nosy.
Daiki found it easy to distance himself from humans in general, to love a machine more than those around him, but Ryuutaro couldn’t really blame his brother. They only really had each other left, and even then, Daiki neglected him a whole lot when he was hacking. The death of their parents took a toll on the elder of the pair, and it was apparent. He blinked back the thoughts, returning his eyes back to Keito, and jutted out his bottom lip as a last resort.
For an instance, neither said a thing as Keito gaped like a fish, mouth opening and closing wordlessly. A sound akin to a cat being strangled escaped his throat not long after, accompanied by a look of extreme exasperation as he caved in. The ghost of a smirk passed Ryuutaro face before it reverted back to the innocent pout. Leaning in even closer, he listened on bated breath, with an expression of eager curiosity typically only found on young children.
“So,” cough, “your brother, he really likes this girl, this net idol. Her name’s Ryoko. She’s been the, ah,” cough, “the object of his affections… Love, you could say.” He gave the sleeping boy a cursory glance, before coughing again. “She was born on May 9th, 2034.” A pause. “If he asks, I didn’t tell you anything.” Keito pushed away from the maikon, tiptoeing off and out of the room.
Scooting in closer to the maikon, he cracked his knuckles. “R-y-o-k-o-l-o-v-e? Ah, whatever. 592034. Ah, ah, enter.”
The screen shifted, and out of the speakers a cutesy, female voice purred happily, “Welcome, Daiki-sama.”
Ryuutaro twitched. Clearly, his brother has issues.
-
If one hadn’t paid any attention, you would assume whoever lived in the room was a girl. Four white walls shimmer with traces of Victorian wallpaper, and the darkest hue of furniture barely registered over a soft Alice blue, the epitome of innocence. The room itself smelled of baby powder and the faintest traces of citrus, crisp and clean.
Curled into a lump under the sheets, Chiinen Yuuri slept, breathing in the scent of clean sheets and snuggled warm under a goose-down duvet. Pillows propped up against the head of the bed, except one, dutifully squashed under the sleeper’s arm; it was a habit he refused to give up ever since they had deemed him too old for stuffed toys. The lump let a breath of contentment before shifting ever so lightly.
Books lined white shelves, their spines ancient, though showing none of the wear and tear associated with books that have been flipped through one too many times. Embossed golden letters printed names that lasted through the centuries, Shakespeare, Edgar Allan Poe, Murasaki Shikibu, Murakami Haruki, among others, immortalized in print, although the owner rarely, if ever, touched the pages.
A vase of baby’s breath sat on top of a desk, inches away from a thin, silver maikon humming away in sleep mode. The heavy walnut doors swung open, and in stepped a small, petite Cherry with dark hair like a halo around her face, mouth set to a thin line as she made the beeline for the windows, muttering darkly about the rain and weather.
Miku sighed, pulling close lace thin curtains covering up the window in her ward’s bedroom. Another day, hopefully he didn’t try to run away again, especially in this weather. Everyone remembered how the last attempt ended. “Good morning, Yuuri-sama, it’s about time you woke up.” The bump in the bed sheets made an incoherent noise, shrinking even smaller in the process.
“Yuuri-sama, wake up, please. You have lessons today,” she spoke good-naturedly, pulling back the sheets methodically. Only procedures, she wouldn’t be able to get him out of the bed unless the Chiinen Yuuri wanted to be out of bed. “Your father wanted me to wish you a belated birthday. He sent gifts over from America.”
The lump grunted in reply.
Her dark eyes narrowed at her ward, before she sat down beside the lump. “Yuuri-sama, it’s okay. We’ll get through this, like we always do, okay? Now come on, wake up and let me help you get dressed.” Slipping off the bed, she turned to the closet, scanning the clothing meticulously. Black and white, classy, should do fine for the day.
From under the pale covers a dark head of hair peeked out, then a face, followed closely by a soft mumble, “I’m sixteen, Miku-chan, I think I’m perfectly capable of dressing myself, thank you very much.” Slipping out of bed, he yawned, watching as Miku smoothed out the sheets as soon as he was off.
“But you’re still a child,” the Cherry replied, a smile on her face and in the process of plumping up the pillows. Finishing adjusting the last of the stray duvet, she turned, lifting off a freshly pressed dress shirt and exchanging it for the satin pajama top. “You have a dinner party tonight, your father expects you to be there in his stead.”
Buttoning up the dress shirt, Chiinen turned back, tilting his head to the side, and retorted, “To you, since you never age.” He ran his fingers through his hair, though instead of combing locks down made them messier, because god forbid you use a brush of any kind on his hair. He’d kill you before you came within ten feet. “Who’s invited?”
Her eyes stared back at him, though lingered for a split second, before she bent her head, hurriedly bringing a tie out of seemingly thin air. “It’s only natural, Yuuri-sama.” Looping the silk tie around his neck, she tied a Windsor knot without much effort, moving on to retrieving a jacket from the closet for him.
Chiinen pulled on the pants handed to him, holding out his arm for the Cherry to slip the jacket over his frame, yawning as she adjusted the form-fitting suit jacket. “The Emperor and his daughters, just the elder three though. Second Princess really seems to like you, Yuuri-sama. Representatives from Pandora, Éclat, and Kitagawa Enterprises, and, I believe, a couple of foreign ambassadors. It’s just a dinner party, however. The car’s waiting outside for you, Yuuri-sama.”
He nodded, letting Miku adjust the collar of his shirt before being escorted downstairs. “Have a safe trip, Yuuri-sama,” the Cherry bowed as she said this, face customarily blank. Chiinen merely nodded in reply, ducking under the cover of the umbrella held by the driver.
The door closed behind him, and Miku shrugged off the nagging feeling he was going to try to escape again. Thousands, millions all around the world would give limbs for the life he led, and all he wanted was out. Humans, she would never be able to understand how their minds worked. Discarding the thought into the recycle bin, she resumed dusting.
-
Shuffling files and paperwork, Inoo Kei sat at his desk, reading glasses perched on his nose as he finalized the plans for an upgrade on the newest maikon operating system, Eris. At the desk beside him, a woman (if you could even call her that, with her short hair and condescending eyes to her cruel scowl) sat, typing away. “I’ve tracked down who Takashi is, Inoo-sama,” she spoke, eyes cast down on what looked like undecipherable data.
Inoo smiled, clasping his hands on the desk. “Excellent. Contact him and send him my greetings. Oh, by the way, make preparations for the dinner tonight, will you, Rin?” Laughing, he let out a soft sigh, sprawling on his signature of approval on the upgrade plan.
Author’s Note:
There, I updated. Happy? :D
disclaimer: this is purely fictional. any coincidences with things in real life, dead or alive, coincidental or not, are for fictional purposes only.
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