Vol 4 Chapter 3.2 (1/2)
This is a continuation of PART A.
* * *
The bluish-grey elevator doors were closing silently. The moment their edges met as they closed completely, Fura let out a deep sigh. The Security Bureau officials flanking him on both sides were as still as stone statues.
”Why...”
He knew it was useless to ask, but he couldn't bear to be silent.
”Why are you arresting me?”
Just as he thought, there was no reply. He posed a second question.
”Is this... the Correctional Facility?”
His knees were shaking so badly, he could barely keep standing. This morning, he had left the house as usual. His wife had seen him to the door, with their son in her arms.
”The edge of your mouth still looks painful.”
”It's nothing. You can't even tell.”
”Silly you, falling down and getting yourself hurt like that.”
”Don't tell anyone, now. I'd be so embarra.s.sed if anyone found out I got this from falling down the stairs at the park. I've been keeping this a secret.”
His wife's face suddenly grew concerned.
”Be careful. Thank goodness it was just a small wound this time. But every time I think something might happen to you―I get chills all over.”
”Nothing's going to happen to me. I have to get going now.”
He had kissed his wife on the cheek, and gotten into the car that had come to fetch him from the Central Administration Bureau. Just before he got into the car, his wife had called him.
”Dear, you'll keep it in mind, won't you?”
”Keep in mind?”
”My going back to work. I'd like it to happen in the new year.”
His wife had a career at the Traffic Administration Bureau. Since their son had been recognized as an elite and guaranteed a perfect educational environment, she had expressed a desire to return to her workplace and resume her work.
”It should be no problem.”
In No. 6, a woman who had given birth but desired to go back to work had an almost-one-hundred-percent chance of obtaining support to achieve it. Fura's direct superior was a woman with two children. When people were given jobs, they were chosen not by gender but through judgment of their individual skills.
”You should start making preparations for returning. If there's anything I can help with, I'll be there to do it, of course.”
”Thank you. That makes me so happy.” His wife smiled. Their son wriggled in her arms. He flailed his arms at Fura.
”Papa, a bug was flying.”
”Huh?”
”A bug was flying. A black bug.”
”When it's so cold outside? Ha ha, it would have to be a little warmer for there to be any bugs flying around.”
It was sunny, but a biting northern wind was blowing. Perhaps it would snow in the afternoon. Maybe I'll leave work early today.
He waved to his wife and son. The car glided forward. It was a morning like any other. Other than the wound on his palm that throbbed with a dull pain, there was nothing out of the ordinary. It was a morning like any other.
Things began to change when they had pa.s.sed through the gates of Chronos. His car was stopped by Security Bureau officials, and he was asked to comply.
”We're very sorry. On mayoral orders, we've been told to change your destination.” The two men were wearing uniforms from the Law Enforcement division, and spoke in a polite but firm tone that left no room for argument. Fura felt a violent chill run down his spine. It was a kind of chill that had nothing to do with the frigid wind that swept by him.
”You will be transferring onto this car which we've prepared.”
”Where... will I be going?”
”The mayor is waiting.”
”City Hall? Then there isn't any need for―”
”We will escort you there.”
They transferred onto the Security Bureau car.
”If you will excuse my intrusion―” Vapid words of courtesy were followed by something covering his eyes. A special eye-mask shut out all the light from his vision, and Fura was plunged into a world of darkness.
At first he compared it to the darkness of the West Block, but quickly changed his mind. It was much too different. The darkness of the West Block was deeper, and more beautiful. It was a deep, deep darkness that seemed to hide something in its depths. It was frightening and unnerving, but nevertheless he was attracted to it. He was attracted to the fact that it made him certain that there was something mysterious lurking there. He had a healthy attachment for the women in the West Block, but he had also gone beyond the walls out of a desire to encounter that darkness. He was perhaps three when he had first felt like there was something lurking in a dark corner of his yard. He was scolded severely by his parents for saying so. There's nothing in this world that we don't know about. Don't ever say something stupid like that again. His mother and father―usually so kind, almost too kind―had both risen unrecognizably in anger, and chastised their son.
From then on, Fura never made mention of the thing that lurked in the darkness. In time, he forgot about it. In the West Block he encountered true darkness, and rejoiced even as he cowered at it. The sensations and memories of his childhood, long buried, resurfaced again. He was attracted to it. Yes, he had most certainly been attracted to that place.
But would that become a threat to his life?
So my trips to the West Block must have been found out.
But what would happen then? Rewriting records is a serious crime. If it's been exposed, it wouldn't go without grave consequences.
He would be stripped of all qualifications; his special privileges would vanish; he would be exiled from Chronos.
He thought of a worst-case scenario. Fura's heart was unusually calm. He had no attachment to his qualifications, privileges, or Chronos―not as strong as the attachment he had for the darkness of the West Block. It was strange. They were perplexing feelings which even he could not explain.
A boy's face floated into his mind. A snowy-haired, odd boy. He had announced clearly that he had no intention of returning to No. 6.
He had probably been able to declare it so firmly because of his age; he was young, reckless, and ignorant. But even so―even if he was young and foolish, was it possible to cast a place like No. 6 aside so easily? That was the part he could not understand.
This is taking rather long.
This was taking too much time for a trip to City Hall. With this amount of travel time, they would have pa.s.sed through the centre of the city a long time ago.
”Wh―Where are we going?” His voice cracked nervously.
”The mayor is waiting.”
”But haven't we pa.s.sed the Moondrop already?”
”Quiet, please. If not―”
”If not, what?”
He heard a m.u.f.fled chuckle. It was even more terrifying than threatening words.
”T-Tell me the reason why I'm being escorted―the real reason. I'm begging you, tell me.”
”Quiet, please,” the man on the right said. The man on the left tapped Fura lightly on the shoulder.
It was a fair amount of time after that before the car finally came to a stop. When it stopped, he was unloaded and seated in an electrical wheelchair, still blindfolded. He was wheeled down a long hallway. It was a very quiet place. He could only hear the subdued sound of the motor of his wheelchair. The two Security Bureau officials made no sound as they walked, perhaps due to some special footwear or because they had been trained to walk silently. When Fura's eye-mask had been removed and he had gotten up from his chair, the first thing that jumped into his vision were the doors of an elevator about to close. Beyond the door he could see a gla.s.s-paned room filled with men and women clad in white lab coats.
A hospital? No... this surely isn't―
Why are you arresting me?
Is this the Correctional Facility?
He continued to pose questions that received no answer.
Tell me. Somebody.
The elevator stopped.
It had descended―gone down.
Correctional Facility. Bas.e.m.e.nt. A place newly-built. A new elevator.
He had abused the powers of his profession to rewrite records. He would be held responsible, and receive a stern warning from the mayor himself. Admonition. Punishment.
No, it was nothing like that. Not even half as forgiving.
Terror pierced his body.
”Let me go back!”
He twisted his body.
”Let me out of here. Let me out.”
There was a jolt in the base of his neck. It was electric current. His whole body went numb.
”I told you to be quiet.”
He heard the Security Bureau official give another m.u.f.fled chuckle.
”It looks like the preparations are complete,” the man in the white lab coat said as he turned around. The mayor of No. 6, the first in his generation, brought his white porcelain mug to his lips, and sipped the dark brown beverage inside.
”I see. Alright.”
”Hmm? Something the matter? You look a little pale.”
”I've been busy lately.”
”Tired? That's not good. Exhaustion opens the door for all sorts of ailments. I would advise you to be careful. I'll write you a prescription later.”
”Please.”
”The project is almost finished. And until it's complete―no, even after that―you have to stay healthy. Shall we go, then?”
The mayor put his mug down. It was a perfectly ordinary mug at first glance, but upon closer examination one could see intricate patterns engraved onto the back of the handle. It was a considerably expensive item.
”You're sure you're going to do this?” The man in the lab coat gazed at him in disbelief for a moment before letting his shoulders shake with laughter.
”Of course.”
”But unlike the girl before, this time―say, what have you done with that girl?”
”Her? She's well. She's having a little trouble coming to, but soon she'll be fully alert. She's a very beautiful girl, and I've taken a liking to her. I'll treat her well.”
”She might have been an elite, but she was still a student. The elite we have in our hands this time is in an actual profession.”
”He will be all the more useful because he's in a profession. In more ways than one. And besides, he was a defective product, was he not, according to your research? Despite pledging allegiance to our city, he was exercising treason.”
”Well, you're right about that―he was going out to the West Block without a valid reason. He's recently gotten wounds on his face and hand, which were probably received in the West Block as well. There are strong suspicions that he's manipulated records. It most certainly is treason, but―”
”He ought to be punished.”
”In this sort of way?”
”Fennec.” The man in the lab coat called the mayor by his old nickname. Was it this man who gave me this nickname in my school days, after a small desert-dwelling fox?
The man stood in front of the mayor, and placed a hand on his shoulder.
”Fennec, you are going to be King.”
The tall man bent forward slightly, and spoke a little faster.
”Your days of overseeing politics as mayor are over. From now on, you will reign. As the absolute King, you are going to dominate this land.”
”I know.”
”Then why are you hesitating? Who cares about one or two defective products?”
”You're right,” the mayor relented.
”And this is a contribution. He is contributing to our good. It's an honourable thing for the man as well.”
The man in the lab coat muttered once again.
You will reign as the absolute King.
The mayor nodded, and squared his shoulders. Let us go, then, he said, as he ushered the man in the lab coat out.
The room was bare. It was called Experiment Chamber I. Walls of special alloy ran all around, and there were no windows. The only piece of furniture was a single chair. A man was bound to it. Fear and confusion swam in his eyes.
From this side of the wall, they could see everything that was going on in the room. The man in the lab coat was tapping his fingers lightly on a control panel with several b.u.t.tons and lamps. His thin white fingers moved rhythmically across the panel, keeping the beat, as if he was playing a clavier.