Chapter 2:
BlackBrain
It was all the result of the First Great War.
The one we, not even four hundred years later, we’ve dared to forget. How could we forget those years that moulded humanity for the rest of its existence?
“Well, here I go...” Dimly lit by the timid sunlight filtering through the curtains, I made sure in front of the mirror that my shirt collar looked decent over my sweater.
No wrinkles, no dust. Today had to be perfect.
Smiling at my reflection, I bid farewell to the mirror and reached for my suitcase, taking one last moment to mentally photograph my empty room. If all went well, the plan was not to step foot in it for months, or even years.
I dragged the heavy case full of clothes down to the dining room, where the TV hologram, alone, was playing a cheerful commercial:
“Hero Enterprise: innovation beyond convention. Protect yourself and your loved ones—reserve our latest spinal and motor implants today! Hero Enterprise: the best choice for a better…”
“No implants, especially not from the competition...” I turned off the hologram, ready to embark on my new life.
Without further ado, I pulled my suitcase out to the garden, glancing back inside one last time.
“See ya!” Still smiling, I hesitated for a few seconds before closing the door. “I can’t get used to seeing the house so empty...”
And so, full of hope, I walked away from my home: that little house that, along with its neighbors, offered a green and lively break amidst an endless field of glass giants.
I still had a ten-minute walk to the nearest metro station.
“It’s only been a few months, but it feels like an eternity...” I walked surrounded by trees, cars, and buildings, immersed in the morning calm.
Even though I had left nursing school, I still remembered its teachings, including the fall of the old world in 1933.
The "old world" was the way humanity was known before that invisible and endless war.
“Hmm, what would the world have been like before the S-Flu?” I reached the entrance to the station. To one side, there were a few models of cars dated 1915—archaic junk, but interesting.
Surrounded by a forest of buildings and screens, I always found it funny how close this place was to my house. “Things from the central districts,” I used to think. I couldn’t imagine such architectural monstrosities in the poorer, more contaminated districts on the outskirts.
“It’s hard to picture people who aren’t afraid of a virus...” I descended several flights of stairs to the platform.
Along with dozens of others, I got sprayed with sterilizing mist at both the top and bottom of the stairs. The most common method for controlling the S-Flu in the more advanced and crowded areas of the city.
It’s strange to imagine a virus that doesn’t rot your body. Yet, they say it was once that simple: pneumonia, then the coffin...
I thought about it while looking at my hand as I waited for the train. The screens with ads on the tunnel walls showed there was still a minute left, so I idly watched them until one caught my eye: the quarantine team.
“In the year 2307, we contained and controlled over a hundred isolated cases across the city. If your neighbor or coworker shows symptoms, call 222 and we’ll handle it!”
It proudly displayed a group of men in biohazard suits. Not exactly groundbreaking news.
Soon the ad changed:
“New luxurious coffee shop, just two minutes from Katana Station. Now with authentic cow’s milk!”
“What? Are there really people who drink animal milk? How does it not send them straight to the bathroom?” I giggled alone. At that moment, I turned to face the tunnel as the train arrived.
Once it stopped, the doors began spraying us again as they opened. Yes, again…
Between survival doses and all these darn sprayers, how the hell do we still need the quarantine team? Or contagion investigators...
I carried my suitcase onto the train with a sigh, making space among the passengers.
Later, I managed to escape that cave of people, tracks, ads, noise, and sprayers, emerging back to the surface. Once there, still in one of the clean neighborhoods of the central districts, I only had to walk two hundred meters to stand before the tower of my new workplace.
“So, this is my new home... It’s noisier than I expected...”
Glass-clad, towering, crowned by the glowing Cellos Robotics sign. Thirty-two floors of labs, offices, employee housing—and a noisy “hippie” protest demanding, let’s put it nicely, an end to implants.
I’m not a fan of implants either, but don’t they see these are used to keep innocent people from dying?
“What a first day awaits me...” I observed them from the opposite sidewalk, noting that the hologram on my wrist still read “10:55 am,” giving me five minutes to find a man named Shinpei Yamamoto, who was supposed to meet me. “Stay optimistic, Isa, it could be worse...”
Or at least those were the instructions HR gave me…
I faked my best smile as the whistles of the protesters and the megaphones of the riot police clashed in the middle of the street.
My goodness... Optimism, I need optimism on my first day...
Through the shouts, smoke, and tear gas, her eyes found mine. Golden, unforgettable, curious—but steady, as if silently asking what I was doing there.
Where have I seen those eyes before?
I stood mesmerized by them, under the smoke and the romantic red lights of the protesters’ flares.
April, Year 2308.
Conflict Summary:
S-Flu: 590,636,332.
Humanity: 0
Cellos Robotics Offices. District 2.
Isayama Tore, 18 years and 3 months.
“Isayama?! Isayama Tore?!”
Those commanding shouts jolted me back to reality.
“Huh? Y-yeah?!” I snapped out of my daze, losing sight of those eyes in the middle of the chaos.
“Thank God! I’m Shinpei Yamamoto! Come on—this way! We’ll cut through the garage!” He grabbed my arm. Luckily, I didn’t let go of my suitcase.
Without any hesitation, I ran and jumped into the vehicle, practically throwing my suitcase on top of my lap as if my life depended on it.
I sat in the back, on the left side.
“My God! What is happening?!” I gasped.
“Don’t worry, we’re safe now,” Shinpei said with a nervous laugh, adjusting the rearview mirror before setting his coffee in the cupholder.
He was tall, with a shaved head and an athletic build, suggesting some kind of background in law enforcement.
“I thought I was trapped...”
“Well, now that we’re all here, let’s head inside...”
“All?” I looked to my right. Sure enough, there were more than two of us. “Oh, g-good afternoon! M-morning!” I stammered, trying to smile as we drove off.
Beside me, like a child shrinking away from an unwanted clown at a birthday party, the dark-haired girl with golden eyes I’d seen earlier was disinfecting her hands with gel.
Between us sat her metallic pink suitcase.
I-it’s her...
“Well, newbies, welcome to your new home. To break the ice, why don’t you tell me what you know about contagion investigators?”
“We trace the origins of S-Flu outbreaks for the metropolitan government. At the same time, we provide solutions through Cellos Robotics implants for our clients,” she answered like the model student she appeared to be.
As we descended into the tunnel and they discussed definitions and protocols, I found the answer I was searching for in the silvery details of her hair.
Of course, so it was you...
I remembered the fleeting moment I’d seen her leaving the hospital restroom, a single tear streaming down her face. I wondered what could had happened to her.
How could I forget those brilliant tears? What is she doing here...?
“Wow, Katy Shimizu, you’ve come well-prepared,” Shinpei remarked.
Katy.
That name echoed in my heart.
“My physical and spinal implants adapted very well to me. I must admit they help a lot when it comes to retaining and managing information,” she replied dutifully to her new supervisor.
W-wait, spinal implants?
A chill ran down my spine. My heart resisted the idea that something so beautiful and seemingly innocent could be so...
How could she sacrifice so much at such a young age?
Perhaps I was the fool, holding on to a humanity the rest of the world had already left behind…
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