CYA Anh!

Missy | Sept 6 1998: 915 ICT | Saito Tower: Lobby(10.77187266296403, 106.70418057160587) |District 1

The Saito Tower dominated the sky like a carrion king. With only eyes, one could not see the digital firestorm burning through HQ. From a distance, no one could see the broken windows or the employees who had jumped from them. The loud hum of a nest of Saito drone helicopters filled the air, with Kristy Li taking turns to land on the helipad. The vultures circled to collect exorbitant fees as Saito Indochina’s operational budget dissolved into “emergency transportation expenses.”

Outside, the road out from the tower was packed with trapped cars, helplessly honking at each other.

The HICE motorcade traveling to the tower faced no resistance. None were traveling to the tower that day. And so it drove right past the abandoned sentry post, through the open gate, and stopped outside the lobby.

The door opened, and Kente and Anh were wheeled down the ramps in their chairs.

Paramedics injected shots of adrenaline into their IVs, removed the lines, and helped them wobble out of the chairs before taking the chairs away. It was a warm, humid day in Saigon, and rain poured down on them. Kente and Anh’s bare arms and legs were covered in goosebumps from the cold rain.

“Hold on a moment, please.”

The two turned around from their walk toward the tower. Sergeant Cristobal waved a gloved hand toward his men.

The squad walked toward two other vehicles, an APC and a hearse, each wheeling out essential cargo.

A wheeled bed carrying a metal box was rolled toward them. Too small to hold a person, but large enough to hold what was left of one. The other squad members placed their objects on top as though they were ritual offerings: torn suits, equipment, boxes of android parts, and Misaki, the one called Missy.

The paramedics climbed back into their car, waiting for permission to close the door, while the military personnel stood at ease in the rain. Sergeant Cristobal removed a clipboard from the coffin and reviewed it.

“What is all of this?” Kente found himself asking, though he already knew.

Anh’s legs trembled, and her teeth chattered in the hospital gown.

“The other Saito assets found at the scene of the crime.”

Cristobal fished out Anh’s and Kente’s seals from the pile on the coffin and stamped the document. He delicately placed the seals back into the bag he pulled it from, then tossed the clipboard onto the pile.

“All assets and property returned. We have even loaned you a trolley. Your receipt is included. Have a blessed day.”

The officer touched his leaf hat and bowed. Then with a turn on his heels, he and the entire motorcade departed without a word or ceremony. Anh and Kente were left to wheel the cart into the lobby.

They walked toward the doors. Anh began fishing through the bags for her ID tag, while Kente simply pulled at the door. The silent cameras stood vigil like guardian statues to a shrine reclaimed by jungle.

It was unlocked.

No one was checking anymore. The silent alarm wailed its deafened call to a silent system.

They walked in.

They entered to the smell of smoke and the babble of panicked workers. Whatever fear of shame or embarrassment Anh had felt evaporated once she saw the state of the company.

There were no employees at their posts, save the guards, who were not so much fighting the chaos as ensuring it did not leave the room.

No one noticed them. Or if they did, they did not care. They had more important matters to attend to.

Fighting over office plants. Looting vending machines. Carrying boxes. Shredding documents.

Posters lined the walls, warning employees:

Before you go: Leave a Clean House!
Destroy your documents.
Wipe your hard drive.
Don’t talk to the press.
Thank you and Have a safe flight back!
(*^‿^*)

Kente and Anh looked at each other with blank, resigned expressions before pushing the coffin through the lobby. They leaned on the cart as much as they pushed it, their feet worn raw.

Kente’s assistant, perched atop the coffin, chirped with static voice and broken screen.

“Director Mushima requests a meeting with you before you depart.”

“Tell him all three of us will be there.”

The Saito Corp jingle rang through the lobby, and employees went silent, looking up and around like baboons at a zoo.

“Attention all Saito Corp employees. The next helicopter will depart for The JS Fugaku in thirteen minutes. Remember, all checkout items must be signed before you are permitted to join the departure queue.”

The volume of the room rose as everyone on the ground floor returned to what they were doing with renewed fervor and increased ferocity.

Managers and supervisors hid from roaming packs of employees demanding signatures. Tatsuya Ono, sales supervisor, went around demanding tribute and favors in exchange for his stamp. Aoi Igarashi followed him into the bathroom.

The shredder, long since clogged, had been transformed into an incinerator as documents were heaped into it by the shovelful.

Anh looked toward the center desk where the information kiosk stood. A large screen Mitsuki Haiku knelt on the display, pleading. Secretary Kayo Abe stood before it with a baseball bat.

She smashed the screen and the computer behind it with cathartic rage, taking her years of Ignored harassment complaints out on the Assistant who helped her file them .

Anh winced and looked away, then was forced to look back when a man began shouting at the secretary.

“Hey you, sign this. My supervisor already bolted. I just need a signature.”

As he advanced, the secretary raised the Haiku slayer. The man raised his hands and backed away, then searched for another target.

Kente saw him moving toward them.

“Move faster,” he muttered.

They struggled to push the wheeled coffin toward the elevators.

“Hey you! Hey local! Where are you going? I need your help.”

Anh bristled but ignored the slight stared straight ahead, and forced her swollen and blistered bare feet into motion toward the elevators.

“I’m talking to you, nanban! Show some respect and do your damn job!”

He yanked her shoulder and shoved his clipboard into her face. Anh fell back against the coffin.

Kente tried to help her with what little strength he had left, but his shoves carried no weight. The man shoved back, and both Anh and Kente collapsed to the floor as the metal box crashed down on top of them.

Above their heads, other employees joined the altercation as the man with the clipboard found new challengers. With some struggle they were able to push the box away.

Kente feebly grabbed his Missy and took Anh’s hand. Together, they crawled under and past the fighting mob.

“Kente, what about Subaru?”

“Leave him. There is nothing we can do for him now.”

Anh looked back for a moment, then crawled with Kente toward the elevators, their numb bodies ignoring the bumps and kicks.

Alarms blared as emergency elevators descended. Saito Corp guards in riot shields poured into the lobby, forcing the mob into harmless noncompliance.

Kente seized the moment. He dragged himself upright, groaning, hauled Anh up, and they raced for an empty elevator just before the doors closed.

They collapsed into opposite corners as the elevator climbed the tower.

“I still have two days,” Kente muttered.

Anh lifted her head from her fetal position and glared at him.

“You think you have two days? For what? Do you think Saito is ever coming back from this? It’s over, Kente. It’s done! I’m done! With you! With Saito! With all of this. I'm walking into that office, collecting my severance, and I'm leaving. And you should too.”

She waited for rage or hurt.

Kente only looked at her with resignation.

“You can leave whenever you want, Anh. I still have two days. I can’t leave.”

“Why, Kente? It’s hopeless.”

Kente picked up his Missy and looked at the cracked and broken screen. For a moment it flicked to life and for a briefest of moments the two bound souls looked at each other in learned helplessness, awaiting their next command.

“Unfortunately, Anh, it’s not completely hopeless.”