Mardock Scramble

–Uh-huh?

“I have a daughter. A little younger than you, I seem to remember.”

Balot was genuinely surprised. The Doctor gave a wry smile. “I’m not sure if that’s the reason, but part of me is starting to think of you as a daughter. I can even feel your deep personal hatred toward Shell. The thing is, I don’t think my feelings are very healthy.”

–I don’t understand. What’s wrong with them?

“Doesn’t it make you feel uncomfortable? When I tell you that I feel that way?”

–Not really—I don’t think of you like my father.

“Well, uh, I’m sure you don’t. It’s just that I’m kind of acting out of self-interest when I’m guiding you toward your next step. I just thought you might feel a bit uncomfortable if, on top of that, I started imposing some sort of unwanted paternal affection on you…”

–I’d feel very uncomfortable. Balot gave him a serious look. Uh…the Doctor was clearly flustered by her uncompromising answer, but Balot smiled a little to try and reassure him.

–But I am very grateful to you. And I really want to help you. For my own sake too.

The Doctor nodded. He was showing his own gratitude. “So, what do you want to do? After the case is solved, I’m thinking we do just as you like, really.”

–I haven’t been able to find an answer to that question. I can’t really get my head around the idea of this case ever being over.

She answered truthfully and followed up with a sudden question.

–When is Oeufcoque going to die?

The Doctor was taken aback. “Uh, I’ve just performed some maintenance tasks on Oeufcoque—it’s not like I’ve euthanized him or anything.”

–Tweedledum was saying. Professor Faceman too. That Oeufcoque only really started to think about living when he learned that he was going to die.

“Ah, I get it.” The Doctor’s face became difficult to read, and he stared into the air. “Five years, worst-case scenario.”

His tone was breezy. “That’s if we discover a particularly malignant tumor that we can’t treat. In reality? I don’t know. Double that, or triple? He might even live on for another half a century. It’s possible. But—it’ll be tough for him.”

–Tough?

“His whole body will start swelling up. I’m not just talking about obesity due to extra fatty deposits. No— everything will get bigger: hypercorpulence, it’s called. His bones, his muscles, his internal organs—even his eyeballs. He’s okay right now because he can distribute his Living Unit across several dimensions, but even now his physical structure is already about the size of the pillow you sleep on. Eventually he’ll get to a size where he can’t even fit inside this Humpty.”

Here the Doctor paused. His hand was now on his mouth, as if he were deep in thought, and after a while he continued. “The real question is not how long he’s going to live, but how. He’s made his decision—he wants to prove his usefulness. Like me. He doesn’t know when he’s going to die, but neither do I, and neither do you, for that matter. We don’t know how we’re going to die, either. All we know is that sooner or later we will die.”

Balot nodded. She thought she understood what the Doctor was talking about.

–I want to stay with him. Can I?

“You can, if you want to, I imagine. Do you mean even after this case is finished?”

–Is the work that you two do here rewarding?

Balot deliberately asked the same sort of question Faceman had asked. But the Doctor didn’t respond immediately. After a pause, he stared at Balot’s face as if to try and work something out. “I’m content here. So much so that I can’t even imagine what else I could do.”

–Do you think I could do it too?

“Well, taking into consideration your natural aptitude and all the data we have so far, I don’t see any reason why not.”

–I remember seeing these boys and girls, younger than me, working at underground Shows. Usually in the kitchen or as wait staff, but occasionally on the stage too, dancing.

“Being a PI is a little different from working a Show, you know. You have to try and find ways of resolving situations where all these burnt-out, morally bankrupt people are fighting it out. It’s hard work. And I often feel that all we end up doing is projecting our own world-weary selves onto other people even as we solve our cases.”

–Still, I want to try it out. Just as Oeufcoque is trying. I want to try.

“Sheesh, you don’t make things easy for me, do you…” the Doctor mumbled, then laughed to try and cover his feelings up. “Look, I can lay out all the bare facts and data in front of you and advise you as to what I think is best, but I can’t make your decisions for you. And I’m not sure that I can provide the, uh, best environment for you to develop in. You’re probably best off going to school, really…”

–If you want me to study, I will. I’ll help you as I study.

The Doctor finally caved, throwing his arms into the air in surrender. “Well, for now let’s focus our efforts on solving the case at hand. After all, if we don’t get a result soon, all three of us are likely to be disposed of by society—we’ll be together then, but I don’t think that’s what you had in mind. So, first we solve the case—and then why not have a proper chat with Oeufcoque after that. Just talking to me is going to give you a pretty one-sided account of our work, after all.”

Balot nodded and picked up the coffee cup again.

–I’ll learn how to make proper coffee too.

Balot was deadly serious.

The Doctor watched, bemused, as Balot steeled herself to the task of learning what was involved in good coffee.

Balot made the next pot.

?

There was enough food in the kitchen to last them for a while.

The Doctor and Balot ended up sharing kitchen duties.

“I still can’t believe that Boiled—fancy firing at a Humpty! However much he sees himself as our enemy, he didn’t have to go so far as risking becoming a felon!” the Doctor grumbled as he tucked into a hamburger.

–That man used to be Oeufcoque’s partner, right?

“That’s right. He was every bit as accomplished as you are at using him.”

–Why did they split up?

The Doctor was momentarily lost for words.

–Is there something you can’t tell me? Were they lovers? Like Tweedledum and Tweedledee?

“No, no, nothing like that.” The Doctor shook his head hastily. “They were the perfect fighting team. No one could stand up to them. But then, this one time, Boiled went on a rampage.”

–You don’t mind me asking all this, do you?

The Doctor seemed to be thinking hard. He put his food down. “It’s probably no bad thing that you understand what sort of a man Boiled is. So I’ll tell you.”

Such was the Doctor’s preface to what was to come.

“It was about a year ago, on a certain case. A young man—a university student—had been beaten up so badly that he was in a comatose state. The client was the father, and the young man was his eldest son. There were five of them in the family: the father, the mother, the student, and a younger brother and sister. The father