Tears As Clear As Crystal

The kid starts bawling harder than my little sister, babbling incoherently. “Hey, what did I tell you about crying in front of other men?” I ask.

“Shut up,” he finally manages to say. “So what if I cry over this? The world is doomed. Even if we could stop Mr. Fujisaki, you can’t close Pandora’s box. Someone else will figure it out. Maybe the Americans; probably the Germans. It’s only a matter of time before real humans are crushed under the weight of Xyrite-powered robots. How can you not cry about it?”

From behind me, Chiyo opens the door wider. “Is that how you see me, as not a real human?”

“I—” the kid’s words catch in his throat. He looks frantically to Chiyo and back to me, then bows deeply. “Forgive me, but you’re not even the original Chiyo. Even if you somehow have a human heart, it’s buried under cold steel and Xyrite. You don’t see the world as we do, you can’t feel the warmth of human touch, and you can be manipulated by the stimuli your body sends to your brain.”

“As if you’re any different,” Chiyo says. “Caffeine perks you up, and nicotine calms you down. Your body is as much a machine as mine; your brain prison to the same electrochemical impulses. Yes, Mr. Fujisaki tinkered with my personality, but it’s nothing he couldn’t have done to a living, breathing person.”

The kid’s face goes pale. I’d feel sorry for him if he wasn’t holding a knife at me. Hell, I feel sorry for him anyway. “Give the kid a break,” I tell Chiyo. “He was able to find the courage to say what’s really on his mind. That’s better than crying helplessly about it.”

“Is it?” Chiyo asks. “It seems irresponsible to me. If you’re gonna mouth off, you should at least have something to back it up with. Otherwise, you’re just lashing out and hurting others because you’re scared and hurt yourself. I thought you were better than that, Ryuuzaki.”

“Now, now,” I say. “Sometimes you just gotta get something off your chest, but kid, I don’t think you believe everything you said. If you did, you wouldn’t have apologized to Chiyo before you said it. You still see her as human, in your own way.”

“I… suppose I do.” The kid lowers the knife. “But that doesn’t change the fact that we’re different. I’m flesh, and you’re metal. That’s a barrier we’ll never be able to overcome, and as long as there’s an ‘us’ and a ‘them,’ each side will seek to control the other. If Mr. Tsuruta becomes the basis for an army of robot soldiers, even if he breaks free of Mr. Fujisaki’s control and doesn’t oppress anyone, there will always be those who rise against him. It won’t end until one side eliminates the other.”

“Is that why you tried to sneak into my room with the knife, to make sure I couldn’t take up Fujisaki’s offer?”

The kid nods. “I spent a lot of time thinking about it. I don’t want to kill anyone, but… I know which side I want to win, and it’s not yours, Ms. Chiyo.”

“But I’m on your side,” she says. “We’re all united against Mr. Fujisaki.”

“The kid’s got a point,” I say. “Even if we can look past our differences, not everyone can.”

“It doesn’t have to be everyone,” Chiyo insists. “It just has to be enough. Loyalties are more flexible than you think. One hundred and fifty years ago, Japan was isolated from the rest of the world. Since then, we fostered good relations with America, founded the Co-Prosperity Sphere, signed defense pacts with Western Europe, elevated Vietnam out of poverty, and turned against America. A hundred years from now, I doubt the conflicts will be between biological humans and robots, but rather, individuals from both groups will be present on all sides.”

A small smile tugs at the corners of the kid’s mouth. “Maybe. That’s a very optimistic view of the world, but I find I prefer it to my own.”

“It’s not that optimistic,” Chiyo says. “If it were, then war wouldn’t even exist in a hundred years.”

“That’s not optimistic; it’s unbelievable,” I say. “War’s always been with us, and it always has been. Even if we win this one, more will come, but we can only focus on the battle in front of us. What do you say, kid? Will you resign yourself to the future you fear, or will you fight against it? With the resources of Hosokawa Group at your disposal, you could at least delay the creation of a robot army.”

Without saying anything, he walks back into the kitchen, puts the knife away in a drawer, and buries his head in his hands. “I hate this,” he mumbles. “I hate everything about this, but you know what I hate the most? That if we unlock immortality, it’s going to be thanks to a mineral whose name is just a marketing gimmick. Did you know that? It’s called ‘Xyrite’ because some marketer at Corning thought it sounded cool to put ‘xy’ in all their product names. And I hate that that’s what I hate the most because it’s so petty.”

“For real?” I chuckle. “That’s kinda funny, actually.”

“It won’t be funny when Xyrite brings about the end of life on Earth as we know it. Even if we succeed in stopping Mr. Fujisaki, there’s no plan to counteract the global cooling being caused by Xyrite reflecting too much heat back toward the sun. I wish we’d never discovered it.”

I place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Even if we hadn’t, I’m sure we would have eventually invented a way to kill everyone. Nothing we can do about our circumstances. We just gotta make the best of it. So, are you with me, kid?”

“My name is Ryuuzaki,” he says, pushing my arm away. “I hate how you always call me ‘kid.’ If you want me to help, then at least show me the respect you afford everyone else.”

“You weren’t kidding about being petty,” I joke. “OK, fine. Have it your way. Would you rather I call you Mr. Ryuuzaki or Mr. Hosokawa?”

“Just Ryuuzaki.” He turns and faces me with a determined smile on his face. “And yes, I’m with you all the way.”

⁂

I always assumed shareholder meetings would be more glamorous, but this is downright utilitarian. It’s being held in an empty, dimly-lit warehouse owned by The Hosokawa Group. Up front, a temporary stage has been constructed, rising just a meter or so off the ground. There’s a desk surrounded by thirteen comfy-looking office chairs, but it’s almost as if those chairs took most of the budget. All the audience has to sit in are a few cheap-looking office chairs, and there are only enough for about half the shareholders. The rest stand in the back.

Personally, I’m happy standing. Although I don’t think Hosokawa’s planning to pull anything at one of his company’s official functions, you can never be too ready. It’s bad enough that the meeting’s being held in a warehouse with such lousy acoustics. Sonoar would be nearly useless, and activating it would draw too much attention.

As the meeting starts, thirteen members of the Hosokawa family shuffle onto the stage. They’re all familiar faces to me by this point. Aside from Ryuuzaki’s father, who sits at the head of the table, we’ve convinced all of the board members to sign on to our plan. His ouster will be unanimous.

“If I could have your attention, please.” He taps the microphone placed in front of him at the desk, completely unaware of his impending ouster. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for taking time out of your busy schedules to gather here today. We will now begin the Hosokawa Group’s annual fiscal meeting for the fiscal year Kouyou 49.”

Over the next hour, I learn that the upper class has an incredible patience for the most boring crap. The presentation is a parade of numbers and figures so divorced from the realities of everyday life that I start to wonder if perhaps the Hosokawas are aliens from another dimension. Their shareholders are no better, though. Following the presentation, they pepper the board with the most inane questions about the minutiae of the presentation.

Just when I’m about to consider putting an end to my life in order to escape the boredom, Hosokawa announces that the board will now vote on a number of issues proposed by shareholders.

The board member to his right unfolds an envelope and leans forward to speak into the microphone. “The first proposal is for the removal of Naomichi Hosokawa as head and CEO of the Hosokawa Group. All those in favor, raise your hands.”

“Wait, what?” I’m not sure which is more delicious: the surprise on Hosokawa’s face or the way he balls his fists in rage, but I’m loving seeing him take the sword like this.

All twelve hands raise high into the air. “The vote is unanimous.” Completely ignoring Hosokawa’s outburst, the board member picks up the envelope. “Next, the board will vote on appointing a new CEO. The proposal is to merge with Fujisaki Heavy Industries and invite Mr. Fujisaki to assume the role. All in favor, raise your hands.”

Once again, all twelve board members lift their hands. As they do, heavy metal doors slam closed over every window and exit to the warehouse, and Chiyo crumples to the floor, drained of power.