Mardock Scramble

forbidden science. OctoberCorp, you see, was founded by people who worked in the same laboratory I used to work in.”

The Doctor hesitated a little at this point.

“Amusement, you see. Or pleasure, comfort, whatever you want to call it. That’s OctoberCorp’s usefulness. Using a variety of technologies they furnish the good citizens of Mardock with their amusements, and in this capacity they’re not too worried about the legality of the pleasures that they so generously dribble into the city. Narcotics, pleasure devices, illegal Shows, whatever your heart desires it can have.”

And, one part of that is the special technology they donate to the inhabitants of the slums, under the guise of welfare.

The Doctor explained that the A-10 surgery—which made the brain secrete chemicals that transform stress into euphoria—was also trickled in by OctoberCorp.

“Shell is one of OctoberCorp’s rainmakers, in charge of money-laundering operations. They use all sorts of methods to launder their money. There’s a very good chance that your recent exposure to life-threatening danger was part of Shell’s business ops. So you could say that you and we have an enemy in common.”

In other words, the Doctor was saying that Balot’s attempted murder—or murder—was for a purpose.

Well, that answered one part of the question—Why me?—that Balot was looking to have answered.

Why do I have to be killed?

Surely there must have been a definite reason. A reason far removed from love. The heart was already beating softly. The temperature of her heart was frighteningly cold. As if she’d turned into an insect or something.

An insect could live by its instincts. But, at this moment, this life held nothing.

Balot held on to the most important part of the Doctor’s words.

“We will preserve your life and arrest Shell. We’ll receive a bounty from the municipal authorities and when we’re paid, we’ll split it down the middle. As the enemy is part of the stupidly large OctoberCorp, the reward won’t be less than a few hundred thousand dollars. Enough money to change your life plenty.”

The Doctor was now zealously trying to persuade Balot. As if to say If it’s what you want then take all the money. We’ll give you whatever you want to fulfill your needs.

“You’ll gain a new life. This case will prove our usefulness to society, and—even better—we’ll expose OctoberCorp for all its crimes and iniquity!” the Doctor said.

It didn’t seem like he was about to say anything further.

It felt like he’d run out of steam just as his rhetoric had started to get going.

Balot didn’t even nod. Her eyes hadn’t seen anything. In her mouth she tasted fire.

She could clearly taste the fumes she’d inhaled when she burnt to death, like an old wound.

An old song played on the radio. A woman sang a mournful tune, accompanied by a piano.

When the song ended the Doctor opened his mouth as if to speak, but Balot used the radio to speak first:

–…the mouse.

The static from the radio formed the words.

“What?”

–Cute. And talks.

The Doctor’s eyebrows rose. As if he were surprised. Balot continued:

–Golden, like egg yolk, it/she added.

“Whew!”

A sudden outburst. The Doctor threw his head back and burst into laughter.

“You held on to consciousness in that state! What incredible aptitude! Not even most astronauts would be able to do that, even after their specialist intensive training!”

After his little outburst, the Doctor turned around toward the portable radio for the first time.

“Hey, come on, Oeufcoque! The lady’s calling you!”

But no one answered.

“Jeez, what a shy guy you are.”

The Doctor skipped out of his chair and picked up the radio with a mischievous grin on his face.

And then—what do you know?—he suddenly raised the radio high into the air and threw it down to the floor.

The sound of the radio smashing startled Balot. The antenna flew off along with the handle, the speakers popped out, and the volume control knob rolled across the floor.

The knob rolled under the feet of the dumbfounded Balot before collapsing on its side.

“Way to startle a lady, Doctor!”

The knob spoke in an incredibly raspy voice. His tone was somehow troubled.

“Turning over, it’s called, or just turn for short. This little fella here can return to his usual self out of any of his fragments,” the Doctor explained, ignoring the voice coming from the knob.

“This guy was originally developed for space exploration. He has this hyperspace within his body, and by reversing this substance that he’s got stored up inside it, he’s able to turn his body into any object you can think of.”

Balot picked up the knob from the radio. Softly, she rolled it around in her hand.

And then she remembered the curious exchange of electric currents that had just happened between her and the radio.

The Doctor informed her of its name: “Oeufcoque.”

“ ’Cause he’s a half-baked little thing, when it comes down to it.”

As she thought on this, the thing did indeed turn inside out. The part of it that was a radio knob went inside. At the same time, a mouse with golden fur emerged. It was the mouse from her dream.

“Good evening, madam.”

The mouse gave a polite bow of introduction from Balot’s hand. Somehow it was standing upright, on two feet.

“You have no objection to a mouse, I hope?”

The mouse spread his arms as if appealing to her, and Balot tilted her head toward him.

“For my part, I’m somewhat different from an ordinary mouse, so do feel free to speak to me without disgust… No, wait, you aren’t able to speak. Hmm. Well, if it would be of assistance I would be glad to become a radio again. Do please let me know what’s convenient, radio or television, as you desire.”

Balot tilted her head again. She didn’t feel bad. She remembered that the mouse had said something important in her dreams. To do with death. And its value. She wanted him to say it again. Why me—she felt he might be able to teach her a different answer to this question.

“What are you jabbering on for? Talk to her about our work, the task—” the Doctor interjected, amazed.

“There’s such a thing as taking it easy, you know.” Oeufcoque stabbed his finger toward the Doctor. “It was quite a shock for her, after all, the whole affair. Let’s start off with a bit of TLC for the mind.”

“You want me to prescribe her some Prozac? Or should we get her wasted just enough that it doesn’t interfere with her work?”

“No, I’m saying we need to get her to a state where we don’t need to do those things.”

–What should I do?

The speakers on the floor suddenly emitted the words.

The Doctor and Oeufcoque turned to look at Balot at the same time.

–Do you need me to nod to say that I’ll help you? Or maybe sign a contract?

“Well, that didn’t take long!”