Mardock Scramble

mind.”

He’d fixed the brakes of the car, but as a result he’d been forced to look at the spectacle of her corpse, hideously deformed. She’d been traveling at 120 kilometers an hour. It would have been different had she just turned straight into ash.

Memories disappeared, but it was always a hassle arranging permits for cremations. Burial was far more common in this city, after all.

“I’ve thought of all sorts of ways to launder money.”

I knew all about it. There were voices—two girls. A surge of empathy welled up inside him.

“Don’t make me see my father again, please. I’ll do anything you want, just don’t force me to see him again.”

“Don’t you worry, my little one. I’ll look after you. I know all about it. How much you’ve suffered.”

Stress. It’s what destroys my memories. So why not do it thoroughly? I know how. I’m going to use my stress to obliterate all traces of my memories of you. Everything’s bright red. Stabbing her to death—stupid even by my own standards. Blood everywhere. The cleanup afterward—I want the Blue Diamond. Its sparkle makes everything clean, washes everything away. I must have flipped out. I killed her before I even knew what I was doing.

The memory breakdown happened right after that. Just at the time I’d failed in an attempt to launder money, but my stress was alleviated and everything was all right again. Business was booming, and my stock was rising. The secret of my success.

Having said that, it’s not as if I even remember everything that happened back then.

“In order to understand my business practices, you need to understand me first.”

–We need to establish whether that memory is a real one. Shell could have been watching a movie or something. We need to know for sure whether it’s actually Shell…

The first one I killed? To me, each girl is always the first one I killed. My memories disappear, after all.

Nobody knows, and nobody will ever know. My memories will vanish entirely. I know how to clean myself up. Maybe they’ll trust me to clean their money up too.

A surge of empathy welled up inside him. The intricate fragments of memories swirled around like cards at a gaming table.

–Your sense of time is being affected, Balot. It’s already been seven whole hours since we started this operation.

The first one he killed? The memories—no, the trace remnants, the vestiges of memory—were somehow different with this one. Because she was the first, the original?

When, exactly? It all kicked off after he’d entered the casino. He’d started to realize his talent at cards. I’d like you to come and watch me at the Show. I know there are years between us, but we’re still a proper couple, real lovers. Even if I lost all my other memories, I’d still like to remember you. I could forget everything else, but not your face. Please.

The first one I killed was different, I think. I really meant it with her.

–Your body won’t hold out much longer, Balot! It’s been over ten hours now! Your stamina—

“There’s something I want to tell you, and I want you to listen, Shell.”

That’s what the girl said. A surge of empathy welled up inside him. I won’t forget you. It’s my job to make dirty things clean again. My memories disappear. Maybe they’ll trust me to clean their money up too.

“I don’t want to lie to you. I want you to know the truth.”

If they trust me to clean up their money, it means that they trust me. Trust me!

This is where it begins, my Mardock, my stairway to heaven. I’m going to make it clean. I’m going to make everything clean. Like a blue diamond.

“I was raped by my father.”

–Balot, stay calm!

A surge of empathy welled up inside him. He was shocked. And yet his love for the girl remained the same. He loved the girl. But then there was the stress. Flashbacks.

“I’d rather go to jail than return there. Flashbacks.”

–That’s you speaking there, Balot! Doctor, we have to stop this. Doctor! Damn, Balot’s snarc is much stronger than I’d ever imagined—

Flashbacks. Memories of sounds, light, pain. Memories of anger, pleasure, conversations. These emotions cut across the scene, gradually coming back to life, and the motives and intentions of the feeler started to form distinct, tangible shapes.

“I’m going to make it all clean. Everything that is dirty, I’m going to clean.”

No. It wasn’t like that. I didn’t kill her. Not the first girl. She was already dead. Why? I’m going to make you clean. I’m going to clean you up. The whole world weeps for you. My whole world weeps for you.

Balot’s eyes overflowed with tears.

“A Blue Diamond. That’s the way to do it.”

Shell’s love was not enough. The girl died of despair. The girl had looked to Shell for salvation, she had wanted real love, but in the end she died in a state of delirium. A pathetic death. Shell was plunged into a despair of his own. Despairing at the girl’s death. Despairing at the reason behind the girl’s death.

The first one that Shell killed wasn’t the girl. It was the person who had hurt the girl so, driven her to suicidal despair. The girl’s father.

“The first one I killed—”

–We’re past the point of no return now. We’ll just have to guide Balot through to the bitter end.

The girl made Shell remember all the despair that he had once forgotten. A surge of empathy welled up inside him. “Don’t you worry, my little one. I’ll look after you. I know all about it. How much you’ve suffered.”

Stress. It’s what destroys my memories.

No, that’s wrong. The first one that Shell killed wasn’t the girl’s father.

Suddenly Balot was assaulted by flashbacks. They were inside the vast emptiness of Shell’s lost memories. Something crying out even now from the darkness.

“Why me? ”

The despair that Shell should have forgotten all about was the sparkle in the facets of the Blue Diamonds. They scintillated, radiant.

There was a hubbub all around. Balot suddenly realized where she was—at a Show, watching Shell under the spotlight.

At first Balot thought she had come back to the beginning of his memories, but then she realized that she was holding his rings in both her hands. All with Blue Diamonds set in platinum. This was Balot’s job—to look after Shell’s jewelry. One of her jobs.

One of the diamonds is conspicuous, brighter than the rest, and the man calls this one Fat Mama, because, as he says, “I called in a favor from an acquaintance who works in processing to have my dead mother’s ashes turned into a diamond.”

–We’ve reached it! Finally, we’re at the source of Shell’s trauma!

That’s right. The first one Shell killed. Shell’s own mother.

A surge of empathy welled up inside him.

The despair of the girl that Shell had loved was scattered around the world. The girl understood why Shell felt such empathy with her pain. She understood why Shell had accepted her for who she was.

Shell also understood what the girl had understood. It was a vicious circle. Empathy begat empathy. The girl couldn’t cope with it. It was the very thing she had run away from—