Mardock Scramble

it.

“Table!” Faceman ordered. Doing as he was told, Tweedledee interfered with— snarced—the ground by the poolside, and a white plane emerged, folding out to take the form of a round table.

Tweedledee placed the birdcage on the table. Then he undressed again, quickly. His role now complete, he jumped straight back into the pool without a moment’s hesitation.

Faceman watched, a serene smile on his lips, and then spun around slowly in his cage to face Balot.

Balot slipped back into the pool without thinking.

“Try snarcing my cage. We should be able to converse.”

–Yes, sir, Balot replied reflexively. Faceman laughed indulgently.

Balot felt Tweedledee splashing about behind her, but her eyes remained fixed on Faceman.

“I’ve taken the liberty of examining your data. Such wonderful aptitude. But if it’s left unchecked, the technology you’ve had implanted in you is likely to have an influence on your maturity, your emotional well-being. Have you noticed yourself becoming overstressed because of this?”

Balot shook her head. Without realizing it, she was touching her throat and the surrounding area on her neck.

She was trying—not very successfully—to imagine what it would be like to have a body that didn’t continue below the neckline.

“Well, it might have made you feel bad, at least. Access to all your battle data stored up inside Oeufcoque- Penteano—those were my terms for your use of the facility.”

–Terms? Even as Balot spoke, she put two and two together.

–So you’re healing Oeufcoque’s injuries in exchange for information about me?

“Exactly. Hasn’t Dr. Easter explained all this to you?”

–No, he’s been too busy treating Oeufcoque…

But she wasn’t about to get downhearted because of this. After all, Oeufcoque’s injuries—and everything else—were her fault in the first place. She was determined to do anything to help Oeufcoque recover.

“I wonder if I could have a look at how your transplanted metal fiber is doing?”

Faceman only had to ask, and Balot was out of the pool, showing him her body.

It wasn’t at all like when she used to have to do this when she was on the job. Rather, it was like receiving a medical examination from a doctor.

“You’re still in puberty, I see. And so there are places where the fibers aren’t fully fixed yet, in order to anticipate any future growth spurts. Splendid. A most appropriate measure. It looks like we have no worries on this front.”

Balot stood still, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

“I was most impressed by the results of the analysis of your data—how tough you are. There was a time when we had to put an inordinate stress on military developments, you see. It wasn’t a particularly pleasant period, but even so, we had our targets, something to work toward. Your very existence is a work of art, as far as I’m concerned. Exquisite—and tenacious. You’re unique, a one and only, formed by a happy coincidence of a number of factors all falling into place—or would you rather I didn’t talk about you in such terms?”

In all honesty, no, she didn’t particularly like it. She’d had all sorts of unpleasant experiences since she was first treated like an object.

But then Faceman—still smiling his gentle smile—continued in a different vein, asking, “Oh, but this is rather unfair—a one-sided exchange of data. Is there anything you want to ask about me in return?”

Balot was a little perplexed. She’d never asked anyone why they were only a head before and wasn’t quite sure what the correct etiquette was. In the end, she ended up asking in a roundabout way.

–Is Faceman your real name, sir?

“No, it’s my nickname in the lab. My real name’s Charles Ludwig. But there’s no one who refers to me as such anymore—including myself. As far as I’m concerned, I’m one of my own research subjects. Although that could just be an excuse for my longevity measures, to keep myself alive for as long as possible, I suppose.”

–Longevity?

“I had a few cancers gnawing away at my body, you see. The only thing to do was to get rid of it once and for all,” Faceman told her, as if he were talking about a routine everyday operation. “Having said that, we probably could have saved my body using some of the technologies we developed here—but I decided that my appearance now was more appropriate for me. You see, in addition to supervising the whole of the facility, I’m in charge of a number of different research projects. Twenty bodies wouldn’t be enough to withstand all the exhausting work that I’d have to put myself through. And if no body would be strong enough, I decided I’d rather have no body at all and stick to being the headquarters, literally as well as metaphorically—even if it’s a bit of a strained metaphor…”

–But isn’t it inconvenient?

Balot asked without really thinking, but Faceman just smiled proudly. “What do you think this cage is for? The wiring isn’t just some handicraft, you know. It’s cutting-edge technology that creates ideal air conditions. Every single wire filters out impurities—keeping the air inside fresh—and they also regulate the temperature and humidity. Even as we speak, subtle vibrations are flowing through the air, cleaning off my dead skin, purifying my surfaces, helping me to maintain a healthy metabolism. Far more agreeable than using your hands to clean your face with soap and water. On top of that, the two-inch-thick base of the cage has electronic interference capabilities, life- support systems, a gravity device, a hard disc with all relevant data, communications equipment, shock-absorbency devices—even self-defense mechanisms—everything you can think of, all built in.”

It was quite a fluent exposition. Balot could almost imagine his chest jutting out in pride as he reeled off the list, and the incongruity made it hard for Balot to suppress a rising smile.

And then it was Faceman’s turn to cast a mischievous glance at the table. She realized that he had interfered, snarced it. A silver object emerged from below the table, taking the form of a pipe chair.

“Do have a seat.”

Balot did as she was told. But it didn’t feel like she was being ordered about. Rather, it seemed like Faceman was genuinely enjoying her company.

“I enjoy watching you—you’re a walking, talking reminder of just how gifted Dr. Easter is. But…you know, there was a time when he—and everyone else at the facility—was repudiated by society. I’m sure that Dr. Easter has told you all about it…”

–“Everything turned topsy-turvy.” Balot quoted the words the Doctor had once said to her.

–What exactly happened then, sir?

“The Commonwealth government placed certain constraints on our scientific and technological research programs. Many of our discoveries were used in the Continental War, and they were too successful—they wreaked all sorts of havoc. This inevitably had an influence on the city’s decision to restrict our postwar research. The idea of using our technology on civilians was regarded with deep suspicion—prone to cause social unrest—and our experiments were declared dangerous.”

–Who decided all this?

“People. Many of the people living in this city. And, with our future at stake, we at the facility decided that we needed to take drastic measures. So the Three Magi—myself included—all came up with our respective plans.”

–Three Magi…?

Faceman responded to Balot’s murmur with a silent smile and nod. “One of us appealed to the potential usefulness of the forbidden technology to society, and pushed the Scramble 09 bill through, got the Broilerhouse to recognize it. The same law that allows you to live right now— and permits Dr. Easter and Oeufcoque their continued existences.”

–You said “one of us.” Which one?

“He left this world not long after the bill passed. Murdered.”

Balot’s eyes opened wide.