Mardock Scramble

“What…”

–You said those words to me right on this spot. When I was all burnt up. You said that I’d be your new partner. As you looked into my eyes.

Again Oeufcoque’s red eyes grew wide.

“You can remember that? In the state you were in? You were aware of your surroundings?”

–Drugs don’t really have much of an effect on me. Something to do with my genetic makeup. Uppers or downers. They just make me feel a bit woozy and put me to sleep. That’s how I avoided turning into a drug addict like my mother.

“Even so, we’re talking out of the ordinary here. You had third-degree burns over pretty much your entire body. And yet you maintained consciousness. To the extent that you can remember precisely what other beings were saying.”

Balot bit down on her lips with a disconsolate expression. She was trying to cope with a loneliness that was so bitterly cold that it felt like her heart might freeze over. Oeufcoque noticed this and plonked himself down on the palm of Balot’s hand.

“As a living tool, people who use me ask me to do all sorts of things. As a result I’ve come into all sorts of conflicts with my former partners. Confrontations big enough to end our partnerships decisively. If, even so, you really want to give up your status as my client and become my partner…”

–I accept. I’ll listen to whatever you have to say. And I’ll appear in court.

“Hmm. Well, I have a feeling we’ll carry on having our differences of opinions, but… Well, why not. I’ll have to get you to learn a few things here and there, but it looks like you’re okay with that too.”

Balot stared intently at Oeufcoque. As if to say she didn’t mind how much it hurt her. Oeufcoque stuck his paw out as if he were conceding total defeat and said, “Well, then, let’s go with that for now. All the best, partner.”

Balot gave him a fingertip to return his handshake, then snarced him.

–Balot. I want you to call me by my name.

“Uh, sure, but what about your real name…”

–It’s like the manager who gave me my name said. That’s the most appropriate name for me. And I think it is too. In the same way that you’re called Oeufcoque ’cause you’re so soft.

“Is that so? Okay. I get it. Well, all the best, then, Balot. I’m Oeufcoque. My personality might be soft-boiled, but I’m not so half-baked that I don’t have a PI’s license from the Broilerhouse, so I’m fully qualified to supervise a case as Trustee. Scramble 09 cases being my specialty. Mind you, they do consider me to be human, of course.”

–And so do I.

Before he had a chance to resist Balot gave Oeufcoque a kiss on his little head.

And for the third time, Oeufcoque’s red eyes, usually so sophisticated and mature, grew as wide as saucers.

Balot got Oeufcoque to turn into a choker again, faced the scorched earth that spread out from her feet, and waved goodbye. Ever so softly.

06

The monitor on the Doctor’s desk displayed a number of emergency signals when the pair returned to their hideaway. Each one a summons from the public prosecutor.

The Doctor himself was in the lab at the rear. He was grappling with a microscope, both arms deep inside what appeared to be some sort of fish tank.

“Hey, Doc, looks like the DA’s trying to overload the circuits,” Oeufcoque said jokingly. The Doctor just shrugged without turning around.

“Doesn’t concern me,” said the Doctor. “I’ve done all I can for them over there. Now we’ve just got to get on with things the best we can, make ourselves useful.”

Balot stood there, isolated from the other two who seemed happy to exchange banter without even looking at each other.

Suddenly she felt mischievous. She playfully bumped the Doctor’s back with the box she was carrying.

“Watch it!” the Doctor complained, breaking away from the fish tank and turning toward Balot. “That’s quite a big box—what’s in it?”

“A fancy new suit for you, Doc. Balot wants you to wear it at the trial. A condition of her appearing,” explained Oeufcoque as he disentangled himself from Balot’s neck and stood—now a mouse—on her shoulder.

“And you picked it out, did you, Miss Rune-Balot?” asked the Doctor.

Balot nodded. It was the last thing she’d bought on their shopping trip.

“Well, er, I do already own my own clothes for formal occasions, you know…” continued the Doctor.

“Unfortunately, Doctor, your sense of style isn’t particularly to our client’s taste.” Oeufcoque pointed at the Doctor’s hair. The mottled, dyed mess. Then Oeufcoque mimed bunching up his own hair, as if to say, Do something about your hair, will you?

“Well, fine, all you had to do was say so earlier, you know,” said the Doctor. “And what’s my own sense of style got to do with anything? The public prosecutor is doing everything he can to try to force us to make things easy for them, accept a summary hearing instead of a proper trial…”

Balot looked offended. She pushed the box toward the Doctor.

“You just don’t get it, do you, Doc? Our client is sensitive and whimsical. You’ve got to respond to her feelings properly, or else before long we’ll find a request has been filed for new Trustees for this case,” Oeufcoque said in a grave tone of voice, leaning over Balot’s shoulder.

“Well, someone’s been doing their research,” the Doctor said, his lips curled.

Then he looked at the sizes written on the box and nodded. “A perfect fit.”

An easy enough feat for Balot, with her newfound abilities. But Balot just pointed at the monitor, disgruntled.

The Doctor didn’t seem too bothered about it. Rather his attention kept drifting back to the contents of the fish tank.

“Don’t worry about that. You’ve changed your mind about attending the trial, so that changes everything at their end too,” the Doctor said, holding the box under his arm nonchalantly while touching the fish tank with his other hand.

“There are still a few tests I need to run on these babies. When you stop and think about it, it’s quite a task, after all. Trying to completely regenerate something that was still in middevelopment in the first place. It’s not like you’d want to make do with a cheap substitute or anything.”

Balot frowned. She had no idea what the Doctor was going on about.

“What exactly are you up to, Doc?” asked Oeufcoque, sensing Balot’s confusion.

“What do you mean, ‘what’? I’m looking at ways of getting Balot’s voice working again, of course!”

Now Balot’s mouth gaped open. She remembered the Doctor’s words from earlier.

Now we’ve just got to get on with things the best we can, make ourselves useful. That was definitely what the Doctor had said. And she hadn’t taken the words in properly, not at first. But now, all of a sudden, a wave of emotion rose up inside her, as if escaping through a hidden crack. I’ve met them at last—that was how she felt about the odd pair, man and mouse. She realized that her heart had never dared let her feel this way before, ever, so afraid she was of being betrayed.

“Oh. And, thank you, Balot. For the suit. I accept it gratefully. I’ll have to keep quiet about it in my report to the Broilerhouse, though, as it might be interpreted as a bribe from the Concerned Party. But I like this sort of gesture now and then. Reminds me of back when I was a civilian…” The Doctor trailed off.

Balot bowed with a flourish. She wanted to thank Oeufcoque and the Doctor. But no voice came out of her throat, so, instead, she grabbed the Doctor’s box away from him and planted a kiss on it.

Oeufcoque was thrown from her shoulder by the sudden movement. He landed skillfully on the desk.

The Doctor was now holding the box, which had been thrust back into his arms by Balot. She did a quick turnabout and ran out of the room, with the Doctor still staring at her. The door slammed shut with a bang.