The Destination Awaits

     Cody had definitely read the most famous American story about the only vice president who piloted an M.U. on the front lines during war while serving his term—perhaps a dozen times. But he wasn’t about to embarrass himself by admitting it, especially not over a mecha manga.

“I’ve heard of it,” Cody said, pretending to be casual, ignoring the two girls giggling behind him as they whispered among themselves. They probably saw right through his facade.

Suddenly, Cody was caught off guard by a man dancing and juggling in the street. His steel-plated hands allowed him to catch flaming balls without harm. One of his eyes shone red, flickered to yellow, then finally blue.

“Oculus Research is the best in our field, second only to the great KG Jr. But in my opinion, we’ve long surpassed him. We’re making it so even a blind man can see in advanced Acrylium colors. We can imitate long-range blue hues for better night vision, and soon, we’ll have tech fast enough to replicate red for predator reflexes,” the man said proudly.

“I thought the Vatican was the only one privy to such information about color hues!” Cody exclaimed.

“Sometimes, ’tis best to let others think they’re the most powerful in the room,” the man quoted.

“Before ye slip daggers betwixt their spine and sever a future that threatens thy present,” Cody finished, referencing the final issue of Loudmouth Boy. It was one of America’s greatest-selling series, following a red-haired, green-eyed boy striving to become a samurai while possessed by a Kami guardian.

Cody ate kebabs cooked by a man using fire from his palm. He listened to a flute-playing snake that summoned a man from a basket—the best breakdancer he’d ever seen.

The man sighed heavily and said, “It pains me that, even if the Vatican held all the secrets in the world, they’d burn any cybernetic functions and consign them to history. Even if such tech cured illnesses, ended hunger, or discovered immortality… they’re a close-minded people unwilling to accept change.”

A few children ran across the street, proudly showing off gimmicky cybernetics called Body Augments (B.A.). They were playing a harmless game of “laser tag.” When a laser beam struck one of the kids, a buzzer signified they’d been hit.

Cody watched in awe, which Jarima noticed. “Want a few B.A.s? Almost free of charge. All I require is the true story of your first battle in an M.U.”

Cody looked back at Jarima, hesitant. He had always disapproved of altering the body in such a way, but now, seeing the practical benefits, the idea was more appealing.

Kalifa brushed up against him teasingly, causing him to back away into Tasha, who giggled softly and batted her eyes seductively.

Cody found himself trapped by their cruel teasing. He shot Jarima a pleading look but was left to his own demise. Hugging himself so he wouldn’t accidentally touch the two girls, who were now gently caressing each of his arms, he relented. “It’s not my favorite story, but why not?”

This seemed to please the trio greatly, but Cody only drooped his head. “Don’t be disappointed when the truth is nowhere near as exaggerated as the rumors.”

He ended up telling his tale in a room with far more people than intended. The sultans, as they called themselves, were present, and so were children no older than five, who sat on large pillows. Though they appeared at peace, Cody noted the illusion—the palace was heavily guarded, and the youth standing sentry had deadpan expressions.

While Cody was being escorted to the operation room to receive the finest B.A.s the nation had to offer, he passed by a peculiar sight: a classroom of children, none older than ten. At the front of the room, a large screen displayed another child, who appeared to be teaching advanced mathematics.

“Is that child teaching calculus?” Cody asked Kalifa, who casually peered into the room.

“Trigonometry, actually. Don’t your children learn this by nine?” she asked, confused.

Cody shook his head. “No, we don’t learn that until ninth grade, when we’re fifteen.”

“Fifteen?!” Kalifa gasped, exchanging a bewildered look with Tasha.

“Perhaps your education focuses on other categories,” Tasha suggested. “Our main emphasis is on mechanics and language.”

“Like spelling competitions? And M.U. mechanics?” Cody raised an eyebrow.

Kalifa folded her arms. “I guess… How many languages do you know?”

“Three.”

“Three?!” Tasha exclaimed.

“I know, I’m pretty amazing,” Cody said with a confident smile. But his pride was short-lived when a child in the classroom burst into laughter.

“He’s stupid! He only knows three languages!” the child exclaimed, and the others joined in laughter.

Even the teacher on the screen struggled to hide his chuckles. Then he spoke calmly, “Now, now. America is different from us. They’re more war-focused. We mustn’t judge him for knowing so little in one category when he may be far superior in others. Now, class, who can calculate the trajectory of a rock thrown at 100 mph if the wind current is—”

Embarrassed, Cody leaned closer to Kalifa and Tasha and asked quietly, “How many languages do you two know?”

Tasha shrugged. “Well… I’m sixteen, so divide that by three… That’s five. But I can only read and write in less than half,” she added, sticking her tongue out and rubbing her head playfully.

When Cody looked to Kalifa, she folded her arms. “I know more, okay? I just don’t like flexing or bragging like you Americans do.”

They continued walking toward the operation room.

Tasha walked beside Cody this time. “Kalifa is—how would you say it in your language? A prodigy. She studies everything with the intensity of desperation, like her life depends on it.”