The Best Employees

What the hell kinda tech has Hosokawa come up with? Is he stealin’ designs from aliens or somethin’? These implants are smaller and lighter than my own, but they’re capable of so much more. They don’t feel right, though, and it’s not just the shape. I’ve been practicing with them for days, but my brain still feels like it’s in a slight fog.

Other than that, everything’s going according to plan. I’m standing around looking tough while bigwigs down those really thin glasses of champagne as though they might die if they don’t drink their own weight in bubbly. Saionji is working the floor in an emerald green dress with black gloves. Guess she doesn’t feel like she’s on the clock unless she’s wearing those colors.

Fujisaki’s been busy all night rubbing elbows with shady-looking MPs. Saionji hasn’t been able to speak with him all night, but the two have been slowly making their way toward each other. I swear, the rich have nothing better to do than flap their jaws without saying anything of importance.

After what seems like hours, the two meet. It’s close to 11 PM, and the ballroom has started to empty out. More than a few times, I’ve noticed men and women alike leave escorted by younger and more attractive partners than they arrived with. I wonder if it’s gonna look like Saionji and Fujisaki are up to the same thing. Probably not with me around. Or maybe that’ll make it seem kinkier.

Once Saionji gives me the signal, I meet them at the door to the hallway and follow close behind as they wind their way through the maze-like hallways to his study. I memorize the path as we go. There’s no real reason to. The implants contain a map of the entire mansion, including several secret passages, but I still don’t trust them enough to rely on them.

Funny that Hosokawa has no idea what Fujisaki’s company looks like, but he knows all the nooks and crannies of his house. He must have left quite a few parties here with young, attractive escorts.

The study is exactly as he imagined it in his transmission. How many times has he been in here? Did he do it on the desk, or maybe he liked doin’ it with Fujisaki’s wife while sitting in Fujisaki’s chair?

The door closes, and I snap my mind out of the gutter and the chloroform rag over Fujisaki’s mouth. Unlike in fiction and Hosokawa’s imagination, chloroform doesn't work that fast. I have to hold him for nearly ten minutes as he struggles, but he eventually goes down. I’ve got no idea how long he’ll stay out though—or how long the rest of the mission will take—so I remove the implants from his temples, tie him to the desk, and gag him.

Seeing the fake projection of Fujisaki in real life was something else. No matter how close I look, I can’t tell the difference. It’s solid, though it didn’t feel like real skin. I make a mental note not to let the projection shake anyone’s hand.

Controlling the projection is surprisingly easy. I open a brain transmission to the projection, and anything I imagine, it does. I have to stay close at all times, though, or else it will stop moving completely.

Grabbing Fujisaki’s keys, I unlock the door and step out into the hallway. It’s empty, so I motion Saionji and the projection out and lock the door behind me. Couldn’t take the risk that someone would come in to use the desk and accidentally lay down on the hidden, unconscious Fujisaki.

The limo is waiting for us outside. At the last moment, I realize the projection hardly weighs anything and shake the car as the projection climbs in to fool the driver. Joke’s on me, though. The car drives itself down the illuminated crystal road to corporate headquarters.

It’s an interesting building. One half of it is hangars and factories, and the other half is a skyscraper full of offices that stretches to the clouds. Our target is in the offices, halfway between the ground floor and the roof.

At this time of night, I expect the building to be empty except for the guards, but the lights are still on. A group of workers in suits and ties are milling about in the lobby, arguing about which bar to go to. No one bats an eye as we enter an empty elevator. We emerge on the 40th floor to a grid of cubicles still half occupied. Made me realize the real driving force behind the economic miracle isn’t the Imperial Army occupying territory from Australia to Siberia; it’s the army of workers sleeping at their desks.

It’s a short walk to the secure elevator. I command the projection to put his eye to the retina scanner, and the doors open for us. On the next floor up, a single guard sits behind a desk. “Good evening, Mr. Fujisaki,” he greets us. “What can I do for you at this hour?”

The projection smiles. “Just showing Ms. Saionji here around. She’s considering making a large investment in FHA, but she’s a shrewd one, so I have to pull out all the stops to impress her.”

“Very good, sir.” The guard holds out a large hand scanner, and the projection presses his hand to it. I hold my breath waiting for the door to open. Hosokawa said it would pass a retina scan, but he never said anything about a palm scan.

With a soft chime and a quiet hiss, the door slides open. The projection gestures for Saionji to step through first, but when I try to follow her, the guard reaches out and grabs my arm. “And you are?” he asks.

I give him a curt, respectful nod, letting him know I admire his dedication to his job. “Mistress Saionji’s bodyguard. Wherever she goes, I go.”

“There’s nobody in there. Are you implying that she wouldn’t be safe with Mr. Fujisaki?”

“Oh, dear.” Saionji puts a finger to her chin and pouts. “I didn’t mean to offend you, Mr. Fujisaki, but I’m afraid I must insist. Perhaps you will have to make do with showing me less… interesting projects.”

“It’s alright,” the projection says with just the right combination of exasperation and poise. “He can come.”

After nodding back to me to acknowledge that he respects me as well, the guard releases me. “Would you like me to accompany you, sir?”

“No, stay at your post,” the projection says. “I trust Ms. Saionji with my life.” He turns back to the door and mutters, “Even if she doesn’t extend the same courtesy to me.”

Luckily, the guard’s attention is focused on the projection, so he doesn’t notice Saionji flip me the bird. It’s not like I insulted her for the fun of it, but I can’t deny that I enjoyed it.

Not that I would ever let my mask slip like that while we’re on the job. That’s the difference between me and her. I’m a professional, and she’s still green.

The room on the other side of the door is large, with rows of messy desks piled high with paper and crystals. At the center of the room stands a pedestal with a large crystal set atop it. The pedestal is made of stainless steel and oddly shaped. Its curves give it an almost Art Deco appearance, but its smooth surface and lack of any surface details make it look like an abstract statue of a person.

Immediately, I notice two problems. First, the pedestal is at least three meters tall. How are we going to get the crystal? Second, the crystal itself is more than twice as big as in Hosokawa’s imagination. There’s no way we’re smuggling it past that guard.

“Sir,” the guard’s voice comes from the doorway, “with all the commotion, I forgot to ask. What’s the password?” He steps into the room, keeping a watch on me out of the corner of his eye, but I know better than to panic. A careful man like him wouldn’t have forgotten procedure. Still, I prepare to grab him, just in case.

“There isn’t one,” the projection says. “But that’s a smart test. If I had been an impostor, I might have tried to make one up. Good work.” He turns to Saionji. “The best employees always show initiative like this.”

The guard, seemingly happy with himself, smiles and walks back toward his desk. I relax and return to thinking about how we’re going to get that crystal.

Big mistake. The guard whips around and points a glowing crystal directly at me. One shot from that thing and, there won’t be any of me left to haul down to the morgue. “Wrong password, dipshit.”