Mardock Scramble

–A Complete Individual?

–Means I’m not dependent on my environment. That my core is even tougher than my shell—I’m completely hard-boiled.

Clopping along in her slippers, Balot considered the meaning of these words.

Everywhere in the building seemed to be divided by glass panes. It was like being in a giant box—all the slopes were covered in iron and concrete and glass.

Grinning, Tweedledee told Balot all about the facility and himself. Balot felt a bit like a transfer student. As if she were supposed to be here, and indeed, were destined to stay here from now on.

–I don’t have to breathe. And I barely eat. Even when I do eat, all I have is a bit of light. And I don’t even really need that.

–You don’t eat?

Balot seemed surprised again, much to Tweedledee’s obvious delight.

–My body needs to change its fluids every once in a while. The challenge is to make that exchange as simple as possible, apparently.

–Can you taste things?

–Sure, I can taste. I can even feel hungry if I want to. By snarcing my insides, of course. But most of the time I don’t feel anything. Back then, I thought I might taste coffee again, as it’s been a while, and I tried to remember what it was like to feel thirsty, but then you said you didn’t want any.

–Sorry.

She didn’t actually feel particularly apologetic—she just didn’t know what else to say.

–No worries. It’s not as if I actually needed to drink anything. I have thousands of little hard drives embedded inside my head, so I can bring up lots of senses or tastes anytime I want.

–So it’s like you have a library inside your head?

Tweedledee made a funny face.

Then, he seemed to understand. Balot realized in that instant that Tweedledee had looked something up in the dictionary inside his mind. What a library was.

–That’s right. There are lots of books and dictionaries in here. And I can replay audio and visuals too. More or less any stimulus that can be processed by the five senses, in fact. But I try not to cram too much in. My snarc abilities seem to suit me better. It’s different with other people, of course— some people find that the more information they’re weighed down with, the more they want to acquire additional information… What about you? Do you want to store something inside yourself?

–No, it’s okay. When I need to use a library, I’ll go to a library.

–I wonder if you’ll be able to stop yourself from becoming like us.

–I’m not sure. I don’t really know what “like us” means.

–Complete Individuals, that’s what I’m talking about, Tweedledee said, as if that phrase explained everything.

Eventually the glass-clad corridor came to a dead end. A sturdy electronic lock was on the door, and Tweedledee had to submit to retina and fingerprint scans to get it to open.

The thick doors slid apart.

–Welcome to the Inner Courtyard. The heart of Paradise.

Balot stared out into an expanse of tropical rainforest. Colorful flowers and fruit spread out before her, as far as the eye could see. She looked up and saw all sorts of trees stretching up to a high ceiling and sensed that there was another ceiling above it, replete with an artificial lighting rig. The light felt just like real sunlight, and there was a certain mellowness in the air. A warm breeze drifted all around, caressing her face and clothes, making her feel extremely comfortable.

–Amazing… Balot spoke her true feelings this time. She was genuinely moved.

–It’s nice here. Tweedledee’s voice was proud, triumphant even, and he snarced the doors so that they closed shut behind him.

A path made out of plastic divided the foliage, and Tweedledee walked down it, heading deep into the undergrowth. Balot followed after him.

Here and there was a clearing. It looked exactly like the sort of conservation area that Balot had seen on television and in magazines. The only difference was that there were big umbrellas in the clearing, a bit like beach parasols, and underneath them were tables and chairs, or in some cases complicated-looking equipment.

They came across the trio of old people that they had bumped into earlier. The man with the hat and the woman with sunglasses lounged back on what looked like deck chairs and were engaged in what seemed like a lively debate with the man in the wheelchair.

They soon passed the group, and Balot followed Tweedledee deeper into the undergrowth. This really was some room. It may have indeed been airtight, but it was such a vast space that it was a struggle for Balot to think of it as such.

Balot suddenly realized that the path was sloping downward. They seemed to be heading underground. But there was no trace of the damp and dark that one usually associated with the underground—this still felt like a lush and beautiful park.

Balot noticed a number of people scattered around, lying under the bowers of the trees, all wearing similar clothes to Tweedledee. They all had unusually pale skin, and some of them were in wheelchairs. They all seemed content to stare up into the sky in silence.

Balot sensed something going back and forth between them, and she realized that they were all deep in conversation.

It was a strange sight. With eyes half closed, barely even twitching, they were engaged in vigorous conversation.

–People who’ve stopped moving, Tweedledee explained.

–Just as I forget to breathe, these people forget to move. Some of them do still want to move about occasionally, so they use wheelchairs.

–They can’t walk anymore?

–Oh, I’m sure they could, if it came down to it. They just don’t really need to.

–So why are you walking about, then?

–The doctors seem to think it’s due to differing motivations. I wasn’t able to move when I was born, so I must be delighted with the fact that I can move now, or something like that. Still, in time, I might forget to walk as well.

–Are there no others here who walk?

–Oh, there are. Shall I introduce you to some of them?

–No, you’re quite enough.

She hadn’t meant it in a particularly complimentary way, but Tweedledee seemed pleased.

–Okay, well, how about I introduce you to just one other. My lover. Balot was surprised.

–Your lover?

–Yup. That’s the term I use, anyway. And vice versa. It seems a fitting term. Whenever we’re together, we feel like sweethearts.

Tweedledee’s footsteps sped up. Balot did her best to keep pace.

Curiously, she didn’t sweat at all. It was as if the air were gently wiping her body down. Air designed to give people a calm, pleasant feeling all over. To the extent that you never wanted to move again.

–Can you swim?

Tweedledee asked, and Balot nodded.

–Then let’s go for a swim together. It should be good for your muscles too; it’ll help get them back to normal.

Suddenly she understood what he was talking about.

The trees opened up, and in the clearing was a giant pool carved into the greenery, an impressive oblong