Post by sheraton on Mar 15, 2008 11:59:38 GMT -6
Cold.
He felt cold.
Not truly cold; he’d turned off his sense of feel. But he just felt cold. As if the world around him broke away like a thin sheet of ice and he stood on an invisible plane watching as truly odious memories fell into the abyss. It was a nauseating feeling that never truly went away.
He bent down, ran his fingers through the sand below him; a fine mixture of human remains and concrete buildings. It’s said that there were once trees and grass here, too. He lifted the sand in his hand; sifted it through his fingers and watched it fall back into the hole.
“America’s nothing but a big sand box, now.” he sighed
“Katsu!*” his captain called him by his individual name. “stop enjoying yourself and get back to work. We haven’t got the time to waste on playing in the dirt.”
Katsu stood. He was a sweeper. Meaning he was hailed as a hero whenever he returned with anything larger than a grain of salt. Tapping the Compaq on his arm, his headlight flashed on, and he continued looking around. Nothing. Even the clouds were hardly noticeable. The light just created a bubble of yellow around him, fading off into naught. Looking around he saw other lights similar to his own; none seeming to penetrate any farther forwards than his.
“That’s it for the day.” seemed to be the general consensus. And they were beamed back to HQ as quick as light could travel the distance. There they washed thoroughly, and dismissed themselves as they saw fit. Katsu lingered longer in the shower than most. No amount of washing ever made him feel clean.
When finally he felt he would feel no better, he left the shower wearing his normal street clothes. As he walked the solid concrete street he fingered the silver ‘13’ on his palm as he often did. ‘13’ was the number of his sweeper unit, and it served as a certifying emblem in a time of doubt. “sand box.” he murmured.
“1231...1232...1233...1234...1235.” he counted the numbered buildings as he walked the street. All the same. White with gray roofs. He turned into the one car driveway of house 1235, humming lightly to himself in his natural tongue: Japanese. He looked into the scanner and let the laser run across his retina. The door unlocked; he walked inside.
“Shino?” he whispered. The room was dark and quiet as he entered the house, “where are you Shino?” he walked into their bedroom, still whispering his wife’s name. He saw her then, laying in the bed reading the Mag.
“How was work?” she asked jubilantly. “pick up anything… interesting?”
“Not today.” he sighed, stepping closer to her, waiting until she stood to look at him, then kissed her. “it‘s about time for dinner isn‘t it?”
“Now that you‘re home it is.” she said, they ran off to the kitchen to jack-in while eating dinner.
“So what’s on the net today?” asked Katsu, retrieving a plate from the delicate metal fingers, and following Shino into the network room.
“Naruto* is starting it’s sixtieth season this week, so there’s a special on, which I’ve been recording on my Compaq for the past few days. I haven’t had much time to watch it.”
“What about Rurouni Yahiko*?” it was his favorite program.
“You should be keeping track of that yourself, Kats, I’m not your net-maid.” Shino replied, shaking her finger at him.
“Just trying to spark conversation.” Katsu replied, feeling defeated.
“What for? We can talk inside, where there‘s something to talk about.” Shino sat down, handing him his visor. He sat and plugged in his Compaq. It shone brightly, as his visor lit up. He felt his right hand sliding gracefully along the buttons, as he faded into his fantasy world.
Katsu was walking through the old town of the Edo* district. The area that resembled old feudal Japan. Birds chirped in the distance. Cicadas too. The bright sun filled his field of view; dancing on the rims of thatched roofs and glinting on silver beads of dew. He noted the reality that he had no idea whether or not the graphics for the trees or grass were working properly; he had no idea what plants looked like after all. For a second he thought, maybe it‘d be nice to lay in it every now and then, to smell it. What does grass smell like? Hopefully not like broccoli. He bent down to touch it. He ran his fingers on either side of the blade of grass. It felt smooth on one side, and slightly rougher on the other. The top side dripped liquid when he rubbed the fine dew bubbles out of their still shape.
As he walked the dusty road he felt the presence of another behind him. He turned, hand on the handle of his katana*. The person behind him was a boy about his own age. He was clad in a kimono* of black. “Kai” Katsu recited his name. “what is it that you want of me?”
“Do I need to answer that?” Kai remarked, drawing his katana. Kai and Katsu had been rivals for a long time and almost every time Katsu jacked-in Kai was there waiting for him. It was kind of annoying. “c’mon”
“I don’t feel like destroying you today, Kai-kun*” Katsu replied bluntly, sighing as if bored. A crowd was forming; he wanted to give a good show.
Works every time.
Kai took a running start at Katsu assuming the stance of the Jigen-ryu* which against Katsu was an extremely predictable style. He took a sidestep at the last possible moment, drawing his sword using the battôjutsü*. There was an odd sound like a tuning fork, and the graphics around them seemed to blur for a moment. A sound. Dripping water maybe. Closer. Closer. Closer. Kai’s character shifted on the ground, as if the data was losing it’s shape. Impossible. The people looked around frantically, as if the answer was sitting on someone’s net-house. Only Katsu remained looking at the boy sprawled out on the digital dirt; watching as the pixels drained like blood, leaving the wire frame behind. A new feature? Then the frame seemed to shatter like glass and the fragments fell like forgotten rose pedals that withered away in an instant. How odd, he thought.
To prove his thesis, he walked over to one of the men staring around in awe, and ran his sword swiftly through the man’s gut. The man looked surprised at first, then he fell backward; faded away. Seeing this, Katsu was the only one who realized there was something wrong with the system. He logged out, and in the world, his character faded as if wiped from a chalkboard.
With his visor on, Katsu pulled up the net-news window in his browser and let the scene encompass him. He was standing now, as many others were, in the apartment of a young boy. The boy was sprawled out on the floor, blood leaking from his stomach. And Katsu identified the wound as being cleaved by a katana. A voice was speaking now. “eighteen year-old found dead in his apartment apparently after a rumored glitch in the perfect life’s Edo district.” it said. Katsu’s eyes widened with disbelief. He stepped back, feeling his heel brush against the wall of the apartment.
“This doesn’t happen!” he yelled to himself, “it can’t! There’s no way that it could…” his breath caught. He flung his visor to the floor as if instinctively, then bent slowly to pick it up. He unplugged the Compaq and watched the visor in his shaking hand.
Shino pulled her visor off gently; set it on the armchair. “What’s wrong, Kats?” her eyes seemed to trace his fear.
“Check the news,” was all his distraught mind could muster.
Shino shrugged, slipping the visor back over her eyes.
Wait for it……
“EEEK!” she wrenched the visor from her eyes, letting it fall on the concrete. “Oh my…” her hand was over her mouth. Her eyes were fixated on some far off catastrophe on the other side of the pale wall. At length she looked at him, saying, “wasn’t that…I mean didn’t that used to be your friend?”
“That was Daisuke*, alright.” Katsu replied, willing his voice to jump over the hurtle in his throat. “I think I… killed him.” He was frank because he didn’t know how to sugar coat what he was thinking. “That wound…” he continued, “I made it in Edo.”
“Don’t be stupid, Kats.” Shino replied, in a worried tone, “things that happen in the perfect life don’t happen in reality. That’s just not possible.”
“But something caused that wound, Shino.”
“Maybe he tripped and fell.”
“And cut himself that deeply on his net chair?”
Silence. The words floated around them, then sunk below the current of rational thought. He couldn’t have done it to himself. What just happened?
“Thank you,” the doctor’s voice seemed monotone, “and sign here please.” He flipped another page on the clip board.
Daisuke had never had any legal guardians to take care of him, so the odious task of funeral costs fell upon Katsu. Katsu looked briefly at the friends face hidden under the sheet. The doctor guessed what he was thinking.
“You’re the one?” he spoke lighter now. Katsu had no choice but to stop and look the middle-aged man in the face. His eyes. They scanned him as if he was in the perfect life. It was strange and compelling. “It wasn’t you’re fault, Katsu.” The man said, a glint of compassion glinted in his eyes. “when technology is smarter than the men who use it, only a computer can fix it. The greater the technology, the greater the malfunctions, however less often they occur.” He lifted the cloth slowly off the boy’s dead face. Katsu gasped. The visor was fixated to his face, white veins popped and faded into his skin, fusing the visor over his eyes. The doctor looked at him with a grim face. “live in the visor, die in the visor.” He stared straight into Katsu’s eyes “is that real enough for you?”
He felt cold.
Not truly cold; he’d turned off his sense of feel. But he just felt cold. As if the world around him broke away like a thin sheet of ice and he stood on an invisible plane watching as truly odious memories fell into the abyss. It was a nauseating feeling that never truly went away.
He bent down, ran his fingers through the sand below him; a fine mixture of human remains and concrete buildings. It’s said that there were once trees and grass here, too. He lifted the sand in his hand; sifted it through his fingers and watched it fall back into the hole.
“America’s nothing but a big sand box, now.” he sighed
“Katsu!*” his captain called him by his individual name. “stop enjoying yourself and get back to work. We haven’t got the time to waste on playing in the dirt.”
Katsu stood. He was a sweeper. Meaning he was hailed as a hero whenever he returned with anything larger than a grain of salt. Tapping the Compaq on his arm, his headlight flashed on, and he continued looking around. Nothing. Even the clouds were hardly noticeable. The light just created a bubble of yellow around him, fading off into naught. Looking around he saw other lights similar to his own; none seeming to penetrate any farther forwards than his.
“That’s it for the day.” seemed to be the general consensus. And they were beamed back to HQ as quick as light could travel the distance. There they washed thoroughly, and dismissed themselves as they saw fit. Katsu lingered longer in the shower than most. No amount of washing ever made him feel clean.
When finally he felt he would feel no better, he left the shower wearing his normal street clothes. As he walked the solid concrete street he fingered the silver ‘13’ on his palm as he often did. ‘13’ was the number of his sweeper unit, and it served as a certifying emblem in a time of doubt. “sand box.” he murmured.
“1231...1232...1233...1234...1235.” he counted the numbered buildings as he walked the street. All the same. White with gray roofs. He turned into the one car driveway of house 1235, humming lightly to himself in his natural tongue: Japanese. He looked into the scanner and let the laser run across his retina. The door unlocked; he walked inside.
“Shino?” he whispered. The room was dark and quiet as he entered the house, “where are you Shino?” he walked into their bedroom, still whispering his wife’s name. He saw her then, laying in the bed reading the Mag.
“How was work?” she asked jubilantly. “pick up anything… interesting?”
“Not today.” he sighed, stepping closer to her, waiting until she stood to look at him, then kissed her. “it‘s about time for dinner isn‘t it?”
“Now that you‘re home it is.” she said, they ran off to the kitchen to jack-in while eating dinner.
“So what’s on the net today?” asked Katsu, retrieving a plate from the delicate metal fingers, and following Shino into the network room.
“Naruto* is starting it’s sixtieth season this week, so there’s a special on, which I’ve been recording on my Compaq for the past few days. I haven’t had much time to watch it.”
“What about Rurouni Yahiko*?” it was his favorite program.
“You should be keeping track of that yourself, Kats, I’m not your net-maid.” Shino replied, shaking her finger at him.
“Just trying to spark conversation.” Katsu replied, feeling defeated.
“What for? We can talk inside, where there‘s something to talk about.” Shino sat down, handing him his visor. He sat and plugged in his Compaq. It shone brightly, as his visor lit up. He felt his right hand sliding gracefully along the buttons, as he faded into his fantasy world.
Katsu was walking through the old town of the Edo* district. The area that resembled old feudal Japan. Birds chirped in the distance. Cicadas too. The bright sun filled his field of view; dancing on the rims of thatched roofs and glinting on silver beads of dew. He noted the reality that he had no idea whether or not the graphics for the trees or grass were working properly; he had no idea what plants looked like after all. For a second he thought, maybe it‘d be nice to lay in it every now and then, to smell it. What does grass smell like? Hopefully not like broccoli. He bent down to touch it. He ran his fingers on either side of the blade of grass. It felt smooth on one side, and slightly rougher on the other. The top side dripped liquid when he rubbed the fine dew bubbles out of their still shape.
As he walked the dusty road he felt the presence of another behind him. He turned, hand on the handle of his katana*. The person behind him was a boy about his own age. He was clad in a kimono* of black. “Kai” Katsu recited his name. “what is it that you want of me?”
“Do I need to answer that?” Kai remarked, drawing his katana. Kai and Katsu had been rivals for a long time and almost every time Katsu jacked-in Kai was there waiting for him. It was kind of annoying. “c’mon”
“I don’t feel like destroying you today, Kai-kun*” Katsu replied bluntly, sighing as if bored. A crowd was forming; he wanted to give a good show.
Works every time.
Kai took a running start at Katsu assuming the stance of the Jigen-ryu* which against Katsu was an extremely predictable style. He took a sidestep at the last possible moment, drawing his sword using the battôjutsü*. There was an odd sound like a tuning fork, and the graphics around them seemed to blur for a moment. A sound. Dripping water maybe. Closer. Closer. Closer. Kai’s character shifted on the ground, as if the data was losing it’s shape. Impossible. The people looked around frantically, as if the answer was sitting on someone’s net-house. Only Katsu remained looking at the boy sprawled out on the digital dirt; watching as the pixels drained like blood, leaving the wire frame behind. A new feature? Then the frame seemed to shatter like glass and the fragments fell like forgotten rose pedals that withered away in an instant. How odd, he thought.
To prove his thesis, he walked over to one of the men staring around in awe, and ran his sword swiftly through the man’s gut. The man looked surprised at first, then he fell backward; faded away. Seeing this, Katsu was the only one who realized there was something wrong with the system. He logged out, and in the world, his character faded as if wiped from a chalkboard.
With his visor on, Katsu pulled up the net-news window in his browser and let the scene encompass him. He was standing now, as many others were, in the apartment of a young boy. The boy was sprawled out on the floor, blood leaking from his stomach. And Katsu identified the wound as being cleaved by a katana. A voice was speaking now. “eighteen year-old found dead in his apartment apparently after a rumored glitch in the perfect life’s Edo district.” it said. Katsu’s eyes widened with disbelief. He stepped back, feeling his heel brush against the wall of the apartment.
“This doesn’t happen!” he yelled to himself, “it can’t! There’s no way that it could…” his breath caught. He flung his visor to the floor as if instinctively, then bent slowly to pick it up. He unplugged the Compaq and watched the visor in his shaking hand.
Shino pulled her visor off gently; set it on the armchair. “What’s wrong, Kats?” her eyes seemed to trace his fear.
“Check the news,” was all his distraught mind could muster.
Shino shrugged, slipping the visor back over her eyes.
Wait for it……
“EEEK!” she wrenched the visor from her eyes, letting it fall on the concrete. “Oh my…” her hand was over her mouth. Her eyes were fixated on some far off catastrophe on the other side of the pale wall. At length she looked at him, saying, “wasn’t that…I mean didn’t that used to be your friend?”
“That was Daisuke*, alright.” Katsu replied, willing his voice to jump over the hurtle in his throat. “I think I… killed him.” He was frank because he didn’t know how to sugar coat what he was thinking. “That wound…” he continued, “I made it in Edo.”
“Don’t be stupid, Kats.” Shino replied, in a worried tone, “things that happen in the perfect life don’t happen in reality. That’s just not possible.”
“But something caused that wound, Shino.”
“Maybe he tripped and fell.”
“And cut himself that deeply on his net chair?”
Silence. The words floated around them, then sunk below the current of rational thought. He couldn’t have done it to himself. What just happened?
“Thank you,” the doctor’s voice seemed monotone, “and sign here please.” He flipped another page on the clip board.
Daisuke had never had any legal guardians to take care of him, so the odious task of funeral costs fell upon Katsu. Katsu looked briefly at the friends face hidden under the sheet. The doctor guessed what he was thinking.
“You’re the one?” he spoke lighter now. Katsu had no choice but to stop and look the middle-aged man in the face. His eyes. They scanned him as if he was in the perfect life. It was strange and compelling. “It wasn’t you’re fault, Katsu.” The man said, a glint of compassion glinted in his eyes. “when technology is smarter than the men who use it, only a computer can fix it. The greater the technology, the greater the malfunctions, however less often they occur.” He lifted the cloth slowly off the boy’s dead face. Katsu gasped. The visor was fixated to his face, white veins popped and faded into his skin, fusing the visor over his eyes. The doctor looked at him with a grim face. “live in the visor, die in the visor.” He stared straight into Katsu’s eyes “is that real enough for you?”
