Mardock Scramble

assignment. That makes me happy.”

Boiled didn’t answer. He slipped the cell phone back in his jacket pocket before changing the subject. “Earlier this morning I put in a request for a coworker on this case, as a witness. That’s you.”

“Ha…so I’m a PI, now?”

“A PI’s assistant. The target, the girl, has a similar request in.”

Medium’s face twisted into an ugly sneer. “I get it. So we can kill her fair and square now, right? All above board and within the law. Brilliant. I’ll kill her all right. I’ll kill her good and use up all her parts. Until I’m satisfied. That’s the agreement, right?”

Boiled nodded.

“I can’t wait.” Medium’s face lit up in an instant, and he stared out at the long, meandering road in front of him.

Greenery was all around them—a result of the plant farms that had been set up in the area, the loam impregnated with concrete-dissolving enzymes. All kinds of trees were there, and in the gaps, buildings that hadn’t yet been completely destroyed—a sort of graveyard for a city.

“The reforestation program for the area bombed out by the war—a Band-Aid for a city, don’t you think? About as much good as a couple of Band-Aids after you’ve been shot up by a machine gun, I mean…” Medium’s eyes glinted red, and a twisted smile flittered across his mouth. “If I remember rightly, a number of unmanned fighter planes were shot down in this area. The ones that the military-capitalist Continentals started sending over toward the end of the war, remote-controlled to cross the sea automatically and release their payload. According to rumor, there was some sort of military facility here. Why would our little kitty-cat be in a place like this?”

“She’s already on another road leading into the grounds.”

“Grounds? Of what?” Medium asked.

“The experimental facility. There was a time when the army and the government poured funding into it.”

And then it emerged. A structure made of bright metal and glass—very different from all the abandoned buildings in the vicinity—could be seen in between the darkness of the forest nightscape. It was so large that it was hard to tell at first glance what sort of construction it was. Something vast and white, almost like an endless wall, surrounded it.

“All the mountains…” Medium was struck dumb for a moment, then slapped his knees like a child enthralled by the television. “And here’s Noah’s Ark! What a surprise. So, this is where she’s hiding out. The little kitten’s rolled up in a ball, purring away as she sleeps? I’ll purr you, my little kitty-cat. I’ll purr you all right.”

Boiled’s sleepy eyes were trained on the rolling hills in front of him.

Mardock City was originally a trade port and an engineer’s city.

The city developed, went high-tech, survived a war, and its prosperity was now firmly secured on the holy trinity of the industrial district, research institutions, and the harbor.

Now, farther into the city, there was also an inverted triangle—an unholy trinity—of the city council, the pleasure district, and the media center.

Each of the two triangles were in turn subdivided into smaller sections, like a dart board, where wealth, poverty, glory, depravity, and fame all sat jostling cheek by jowl.

Boiled parked his car at the top of the slope. Medium opened the door and said, blood rising to his face, “Unleash me whenever you’re ready, boss,” as he looked at Boiled, who had emerged from the other door.

Boiled pointed toward one of the slopes. “Head in from the west. There should be security firm personnel stationed there. Gather any intelligence on the facility you can.”

“Shall I report back to you with my location?” asked Medium.

“If possible then do. I’ll be heading to the main entrance and gain access based on official procedures.”

“You mean they’ll try and keep her hidden? Say that she’s not in and never has been, that sort of thing?”

“Exactly.”

“In other words, then…” Medium spread his arms out, no longer able to contain his joy. “I can do whatever I like to the girl, seeing that she’s not supposed to be there anyway.”

“Anything goes. Now move on in,” said Boiled.

Medium spun around.

His brutal smile seemed to linger on, like incense in the air.

The hound dog, unleashed, went running off into the woods.

Once he had disappeared completely, Boiled moved back into the driver’s seat.

“An ark…” he murmured, gripping the wheel. “An ark that waits for the deluge that never comes.”

Muttering to himself, he drove off.

02

Boiled flashed his PI’s license at the guard who appeared in the watchtower monitor in the middle of the revolving gate.

The guard noted his license without emotion, as if he too were part of the machine.

–You will be connected to the warden shortly, sir. Kindly wait there. Your voice and image are being recorded.

Boiled nodded. The screen on the monitor changed.

–So, the Rusty Gun has returned for maintenance, unable to cope with the poisonous rust that he produces?

On the monitor, a man in late middle age. Only his neck upward was visible. Boiled knew all too well what had happened below the neckline.

“Oeufcoque should be here, Professor.”

The man on the screen—Professor Faceman—laughed quietly.

–I say, this is rather off-topic from your official request. Is there nothing else you want to ask me?

He spoke as an indulgent teacher might gently encourage a pupil to revise his answer.

“There’s a possibility that a material witness for a case is hiding in this facility. I need you to open the gate for me.”

–There’s no need to force your way in using a gun. Come over to the November Forest.

Even as he faded from the monitor, Faceman’s tone was gentle.

Boiled stopped the car and headed for the white wall of chalk, placing his hand on a small door that was etched into the wall.

The door gave a little electronic buzz and opened inward.

He stepped into a long, dazzlingly white corridor, and the door shut behind him.

Everything around him was a clear white, and it radiated calmness, like a first-class airport lounge.

Boiled walked on. Calm footfalls—this was a place he was comfortable with, at home. It was as if his body wanted these homely, nostalgic feelings in spite of himself, in spite of his resistance and disgust toward the very idea.

Boiled continued down the corridor and arrived at the end without passing a soul. He came to a giant wall again. He touched the electronic pad on the wall, and the thick walls parted to either side to reveal trees and plants not dissimilar to the ones on the outside.

Boiled entered the forest.

There was a white table and chairs in a clearing surrounded by white birch trees. A young man stood by the table, and he smiled as Boiled drew near. Or so it seemed, but then the young man’s expression turned sour.

“I took my telecom out of my head a long time ago. No use in snarcing me to communicate, Tweedledee,” Boiled said.

Tweedledee looked more disappointed than anything else. He jerked his chin toward the table.

There was a cup on the table, and the aroma of warm coffee drifted about the glade.

Tweedledee signaled with his eyes that the coffee had been prepared specially for Boiled.

Boiled ignored it and stood in front of the table. “Professor Faceman.”

The old man’s head on the other side of the coffee—Faceman—raised his eyes from within his cage. “This forest is where many a war-weary soldier came to recuperate—and it’s also the final resting place for many. When