Rain Falling on the Past

Kaede first saw him when she was twenty-three years old. It was a rainy September morning. She carried a transparent umbrella, letting the rain's rhythm envelop her. In the bustling street ahead, voices began to grow louder, faint at first but rising with every step.

The expressions of the people coming from that direction were judgmental, their faces contorted with a mixture of disdain and revulsion. Her curiosity was piqued. On such a beautiful day, amidst the ordinary chaos of city life, what could provoke such a commotion?

“You worthless blind machine! Whoever built you, I am reporting them! Aahh!”
“Sir, please remain calm and allow us to escort you to the hospital,” came the polite, almost motherly voice of a security robot, calm but firm.

Despite the robotic voice’s attempt at de-escalation, the man hurled curses, words Kaede wouldn’t dare utter even in the privacy of her home, let alone in the middle of a crowded street. Something serious must have happened. Against the individualistic ethos of her society, she found herself walking toward the scene. Her plan was simple: pass by casually, as though she had some purpose in that direction, and leave unnoticed.

But then she saw the man, a grown adult furiously shouting at a small, round-headed cleaning robot that had unintentionally stepped on his foot. Kaede couldn’t hold back and began to laugh. It was an involuntary reaction, the absurdity of the scene overcoming her.

“Is something funny to you?” the man snarled, his furious gaze snapping toward her, pulling her out of her brief reverie.

He looked livid. Even the robots turned their attention to her. Embarrassment hit her like a tidal wave, and she covered her mouth with her hand, quickly apologizing.

“I’m so sorry,” she stammered. “Please, tell me what is wrong. Maybe I can help.”

“That mindless piece of junk almost crushed my foot because there were no signals from my chip! Can you believe that?”

“But that robot is about a quarter of your size,” she said, trying, and failing, to suppress a smile. “I doubt it could crush you, even if it wanted to.”

He surprised her by chuckling. Turning to the little cleaning robot, its elliptical face glowing faintly with yellow warning lights, he said, “It didn’t hurt that much anyway,” as though all the fuss had been for nothing.

The security robots interjected, urging him once more to seek medical attention.
“Please proceed to the hospital for proper treatment,” they insisted.
“Get lost, you tin cans!” he shouted one final time before limping away, proud and defiant.

Kaede followed him because she had never met anyone like him before.

“Why won’t you go get treated?” she asked.
“Because I’m angry!” he snapped. “They say having a chip is not mandatory, that carrying technology isn’t mandatory. And yet, here I am, unable to walk peacefully in the rain just because I do not have one of their damn gadgets!”

“This is the first time I’ve ever met someone who didn’t have a chip implanted in their brain at birth. Have you never felt the need for one yourself?”

“I’d rather my brain remain a flawed lump of flesh than turn into a digital memory bank and processor. Besides, I trust my own flawed lump of flesh more than those pieces of junk. They can’t even handle proper sensory input!” he replied.

Having lived with hers since the day she was born, she could hardly imagine what it would be like to go without one.
“Perhaps on rainy days, you could be a little more mindful of them,” she suggested, keeping her tone measured.

He smirked, extending his hand in a mockingly polite gesture. “May I borrow your Pollyanna glasses, please?”

Before she could respond, he stepped behind her, grabbed her arms, and turned her to face a seemingly ordinary couple walking nearby.

“Look at them,” he said.
“What am I supposed to see?”
“Really look. Their expressions never change. It’s like they’re wearing masks. Look into their eyes, they are completely vacant.”

“Sometimes people get lost in thought,” Kaede replied, though his observation unsettled her.

Without asking for permission, he reached for the button on her neural chip and activated the recording feature. Before she could protest, he gave her a push. She fell hard onto the wet ground, the cold mud soaking through her clothes.

The man shouted, his voice cutting through the air like a vicious blade, “Damn woman! Can’t even do one thing right! You stupid sh*t!” His anger struck her like a blow, shaking her out of her dazed state.

Rage surged through Kaede, overwhelming every other feeling in an instant. She had never been treated with such cruelty, reduced to such humiliation. Then, as if to deepen the spectacle, he began mimicking kicking her, his exaggerated movements disturbingly lifelike.

It dawned on her then. This was the “role” he wanted her to play, the scene he wanted to stage. Paralyzed by shame and despair, she became his unwitting co-star. She glanced at the onlookers, their indifferent faces like mirrors reflecting the cold reality of the world around her. Some recorded the scene, while others whispered critiques to their companions as if analyzing a performance. Her anger toward this man without a chip subsided, replaced by a desperate desire to see him proven wrong.

When he grabbed her arm and started dragging her along the ground, it wasn’t the pain that made her sob uncontrollably. It was the utter desolation she saw in the faces around her. She pleaded for help, looking directly at a middle-aged woman with blonde hair. The woman turned her head, pretending she didn’t exist.

She turned to a tall, strong-looking young man. “Please,” she begged. He didn’t even glance her way, muttering something about robots under his breath as he walked on.

Finally, the man with green eyes stopped and pulled her to her feet. She was trembling, her clothes drenched and filthy. Then, to her utter disbelief, he wrapped his arms around her in a tight embrace.

“It’s over,” he said softly. “You'll get used to it.”

After this dramatic performance, seeing even the slightest affection, Kaede felt a special connection to him in that moment.

When the security robots arrived to address the commotion, she intervened, telling them it was just a street performance, nothing serious. They logged it as such and left without further questioning.

“I’m sorry,” he said once they were alone, his tone transformed, almost tender. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. It’s just... while everyone else judged me, you laughed. And I thought, maybe, just maybe, you’d understand.”

She wanted to yell at him, to scold him, to tell him what he did was wrong, violent, even. But when she looked at him, she saw he already knew. His eyes welled up, his voice hoarse and tangled in a knot of helplessness lodged in his throat.

The world around Kaede seemed colder, grayer, as though some invisible structure had shattered irreparably. The streets were lined with trees planted in perfect symmetry. Extinct species and preserved animals roamed freely, feeding from carefully placed containers. Everything was pristine, flawless, artificial.

He was right. Perfection had rendered them numb. Nature was never meant to be this immaculate; it was wild, cruel, unpredictable. For the first time in her life, she felt the rain in her heart. It wasn’t like anything she’d ever known. Tilting her head back, she let the drops merge with her tears.

“I am deeply sorry. My home is nearby,” Ren said, his voice now gentle and inviting. “You can come and clean up if you’d like.”

Kaede couldn’t say anything. She couldn’t even move from where she sat. All she could do was remain silent, wishing the rain would wash away these harsh truths along with the grime clinging to her.

The man with the pocket watch dangling from his trousers tucked it into his pocket to shield it from the rain and sat down beside her. The only sounds that pierced the deathly silence were the steady patter of raindrops and distant voices speaking in a language she couldn’t understand, as if they were echoing from a faraway place.

She didn’t know how long they stayed there. When she began to feel somewhat grounded again, the man repeated his question. It was only then that she realized he was still beside her.

“I can’t refuse your offer,” Kaede said, beginning to walk beside him.

As they walked, he added, “To make it up to you, I’d like to invite you to the Autumn Festival in a few days. I’ll do everything I can to ensure you have a wonderful time and forget this day. I'll do whatever it takes to make up for this.”

“I don’t think I want to forget today,” she said.

“We haven’t been introduced yet, have we? What was your name, I wonder?" He asked.

“Kaede,” she answered. “And yours?”
“Ren…”