Mardock Scramble

“By the hand of assassins hired by one of the other Three Magi. She suggested that the technology developed here should be made to perform a different sort of usefulness for society—one that met the needs of the city far better than Mardock Scramble 09. By providing pleasure and amusement, legal or illegal.”

–OctoberCorp…

Faceman nodded. Balot felt that she was starting to understand why the Doctor called OctoberCorp his nemesis. The man who had given him, and Oeufcoque, their raison d’etre—he’d been murdered by them.

–But how did the quarrel ever get that far? You used to be friends, right?

“The dispute started over differences in thought as to what constituted usefulness for society. This wasn’t your ordinary laboratory debate; each one of us ended up staking our very existences on our views. In particular, it was inevitable that the Scramble 09 faction—with its insistence on legal validity at all costs—would end up clashing with OctoberCorp, with its ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ approach to law. They were now both in a dilemma, forced to fight each other for the right to survive, whether they wanted to or not. Even now, although the influence of the Three Magi has long since waned, the proteges continue the struggle wherever they can.”

–Is the person who founded OctoberCorp still alive?

“She’s alive. She’s nominally still the director of OctoberCorp. But her condition isn’t so different from mine. She’s completely paralyzed, apparently, with only a portion of her brain still functioning.

–And what about the last of the Three Magi?

Balot barely dared ask. But Faceman just smiled as calmly as ever and said, “The last of the Three Magi put forward the solution that was most favored by society, by the people of Mardock City. That is to say, complete isolation of all research.”

–Isolation?

“That’s right. A total blockade. All research and trials to be completed within the facility and then kept here. Our data never leave the facility. The civil authorities accept us—with strings attached, of course—and even provide funding so that we can continue.”

–Staying here, forever?

“That’s right. This is the eternal Inner Courtyard. We call ourselves scientists, but really we’re wild beasts who’ve voluntarily chosen to enter a cage—as a condition of our continued survival.” Faceman laughed from within his birdcage. “Paradise doesn’t turn away visitors from the outside world. But whenever a visitor comes, it has to be under a strict set of conditions. Break those conditions and it’s punishable under Commonwealth law. And the most important condition of all is…no unauthorized use of this equipment here to try and contact the outside world. Violating this condition is a felony.”

Balot digested these words.

Faceman’s gray eyes were fixed on Balot. He had evidently given his reply to Balot’s request to use the computer terminal that was this pool.

But there had to be more to his reply—a qualification. Balot was convinced of this.

–But I think that the Doctor wants me to use this thing.

“Yes, and we’ve already received his proposal, Rune-Balot. If truth be told, I’m deeply interested in seeing just how good you are at utilizing this Parallel Transmission Core.” So saying, he glanced at the pool and whispered, “It’s down to Scramble 09.”

As ever, as if this phrase held all the answers.

“The moment you use this Transmission Core is the moment you become a suspect for premeditated criminal conduct against the Commonwealth. But if we can prove that your actions are in no way criminal but rather a measure to preserve your life, then we should be able to dispel that suspicion.”

–I understand.

“But there’s no reason to put you at any sort of further risk. You’re the Concerned Party in this case, and you should leave it all to Dr. Easter and Oeufcoque to solve.”

–I just feel that if I don’t do something myself, I’ll end up getting killed.

“Not if you remain here.” Faceman spoke in a voice so gentle that it was almost cruel. “This place is a true closed environment—far safer and more pleasant than any prison.”

Balot nodded repeatedly. She understood Faceman’s thoughts, his ideology. But it wasn’t what she wanted, not from the Doctor or Oeufcoque.

–Oeufcoque told me that he’d think about what it meant to live together, with me.

“By ‘live together,’ I’m assuming that you’re referring to how you adapt to society? Well, whether you choose the Mardock Scramble 09 path or the OctoberCorp path, you’re still throwing yourself into the diseased core of society. After all, a civilian with fancy technology is still a civilian…”

–Oeufcoque and the Doctor saved my life, Balot answered back, pressing her case.

–I think that I can change. Because of those people.

“Yes, but it won’t be more than a partial change—a personal transformation, if you like. What humanity needs is fundamental reform. Paradise may be closed off to the masses at the moment, but I firmly believe that one day it will be the model for all mankind. The world will join us in Paradise. This place is the pinnacle of technology and ideology, after all.”

Balot was silent. She had never thought about the world in quite such terms before.

“There’s something that Oeufcoque once said to me. That he would die one day. And in realizing this fact, he had felt a sense of identity for the first time—the thing that psychologists call the ego. That’s why he needed to do something. The budding sprouts of self-fulfillment—it wouldn’t have been fair for anyone to try and stop him,” Faceman said in a soft tone. “But we…we’re like actors who haven’t learned their lines yet—who don’t even have a script. In our harsh reality, improvisation is the order of the day. We don’t know how the plot is meant to unfold, and there’s no director standing in the wings ready to prompt us. We’re just thrown straight on stage and left to get on with it—and this is what we’re told. Live. Until you die. That’s the wild for you. We may be social creatures, but we’re still wild animals. But we don’t have to live lives of improvisation forever. We need a world that frees people from the pressure of constantly having to improvise. A world like this one, Paradise. That is what it means to be civilized.”

Then he looked straight at Balot with his gentle eyes. “In time, as your body starts to mature, your natural aptitude for your abilities will have a strong influence on your mental development. It could even drive you to the brink of madness. If that happens, will society as we know it be there to save you?”

Balot pondered this question for a moment. Her answer came to her much quicker than she had expected.

–At the beginning I was so scared of becoming the Concerned Party for this case. Now, though, it feels like the right decision, and I’m glad I made it. Society might not be able to rescue me. But it did at least show me that there was such a thing as a path to salvation.

“As the victim in the case? You fight in order to request permission from society for your own existence?”

Balot nodded and then shook her head a split second later, as if to contradict herself. Both were her true feelings.

–I used to be a victim, an object. I was always under the influence of some exterior force. Of someone or something. And, in the end, I was killed for it. But fortunately I was brought back and became a survival case. So if I’m offered the opportunity to help with some other case, one with nothing to do with Shell or OctoberCorp, to be the one to solve it, then I’d like to take it.

Faceman smiled benignly, as if he were a priest listening to confession from one of his flock. “So, you’re prepared to be in the same position as Oeufcoque and the Doctor, are you? You know that if you fail to solve your cases, your very existence is likely to be seen as a threat to society?”

–I understand, sir.