“Speak!” rattled the man, little dots of spittle blurring Mayuko’s eyes as though from the forehead mouths. “Speak!”
“J-just listen,” she said, her voice wavering with fear at last, “I-I don’t know what—”
The man pushed her by the chin and Mayuko grabbed the sleeve of his robe to stop the chair from toppling, but one of the tengu kicked her wrist and she lost her grip, smacking into the floor back-first with a squeal. She tried to get up but a booted foot came down on each limb to pin her down and the tengu with the duster pointed it down at her. As her eyes began to shake, the room was totally blocked out by the muscular bodies looming over her, the ceiling mostly hidden by their canopy of noses. It was too much to bear. Amon wanted to look away, but the overlay followed his eyes and it was unthinkable to abandon her by turning it off.
“If you even squirm, my man will fire and you’ll be nothing but bones. Now lie still! You’ve got one more chance to give me what you know before I take it.”
The tengu beside the emoticon man put away his duster, stepped behind her head, and bent over her with a strange instrument. It was a thin metal rod with a suction cup on one end and thread-thin ectoplasmic tentacles of white neon wriggling out the other. Mayuko darted her eyes between the man and the instrument, her breaths quivering, her shaking body subdued by the four men stepping on her. “Do tell me soon and save me the expense of hacking you.”
When Mayuko said nothing, the tengu attached the suction cup to her forehead and waved his palms in circles over her as though enacting an occult ritual. The neon-white tentacles began to wriggle into her mouth, eyes, and ears like slowly exhaled smoke reversing direction.
There was nothing more violating than being flesh-hacked. Breaking through the BodyBank security system remotely was next to impossible. Without some sort of access privileges, it could only be done by putting a sophisticated parasite in direct contact with the skin. Soon they would no doubt have full access to all her data. The virus Sekido had given Amon had probably been designed by the same technicians who had cracked the building security and would soon crack Mayuko’s body. The lingering traces of that virus had taken over Amon’s smallest finger and betrayed his whereabouts. Now Mayuko was suffering in his stead. The shame was too much. He couldn’t stand up straight anymore and felt himself leaning with the motion of the train into the cocoon of bodies. He wished Mayuko had never rescued him from that factory yard. He wished he had never let her take him to that weekly mansion instead of going to a capsule on his own. He wished he’d never let her convince him to leave. The macho voice had been right. He was a coward. He was a pathetic, disgrace of a man. He didn’t deserve to be standing. He ought to be lying on the floor of the train, trampled under the feet of the crowd. And thinking this way, his legs gave out under him, his head began to sink, and his visual field was swallowed in the black mire of suits. Stop! shouted another voice in his head, Falling apart on her would be the worst cowardice of all, and Amon forced himself upright with the faint remnants of his will, knowing it was true.
“Mayuko. I’m begging you,” he said. “Just tell them where I am.”
Mayuko did a gesture to switch on eye interface and closed her eyes to hide her commands. I CAN’T DO THAT, AMON.
“Why not? They’ll kill you.”
I’M AFRAID. I DON’T WANT TO DIE. BUT TELLING THEM IS ONLY GOING TO SPEED THINGS UP. ONCE THEY KNOW WHERE YOU ARE, DO YOU SERIOUSLY THINK THEY’LL JUST LET ME GO?
Immediately he saw that she was right. When she had given the men the information they needed, she would become their liability, since she knew as much as Amon did. Sekido would simply issue another fake bankruptcy report to have her crashed. Or perhaps the emoticon man would have her shot on the spot if murder was cheaper at that moment than bureaucratic trickery. Either way, if she told them where Amon was, they would both be doomed. Fearing for her life, Amon had panicked and failed to see this, but Mayuko, who had no combat-training, had somehow managed to keep her cool, and he was astounded by her bravery.
He realized then that she’d been right about something else too, although she couldn’t have known it. If Amon had stayed alone in the apartment and she had fled invisibly instead, the men would have inevitably hacked him. Then they would have discovered the extent of her knowledge, just as if he had gone bankrupt. Their fates were inseparably bound and his fleeing alone had been the only chance either of them had, for now that he was loose he might still find a way to save her and himself.
THERE MUST BE SOMETHING WE CAN DO, she texted, as though reading his mind. YOU’VE ALWAYS BEEN GOOD WITH STRATEGIES, AMON. HELP ME.
At that moment, Mayuko glanced into the bottom left corner of her eye at her AT readout, and they both saw something strange and awful. There was a list of credicrimes committed against her by the men—breaking and entry, threats, intimidation, assault, hacking—but in the amount column, instead of a series of numbers, each one read “verdict pending.”
“Oh shit… no!” said Amon.
WHAT’S GOING ON? WHY AREN’T I BEING COMPENSATED?
“They’re appealing all of the sentences.”
HOW? THE JUDICIAL BROKERS CAN’T SERIOUSLY DOUBT THEIR CULPABILITY.
“No, they wouldn’t, but the Birlas must have powerful lawyers. I doubt they can win their case, since the evidence is obviously in your favor, but they’ll be using every dirty legal trick they can think of to delay the verdict. In the end, the expense of appealing may be greater than the fines and that emoticon freak will probably have to pay both. But these lawsuits can last for hours sometimes, and if they can stall long enough, you’ll be pushed right to the edge of bankruptcy. I’ve seen this kind of thing in AT readouts before. It’s a ploy the super wealthy use to take away the freedom of their enemies.”
OH NO, THIS IS AWFUL. YOU CAN’T BE–LOOK! I’M ALREADY DEEP IN THE RED. OUR DEBTS ARE TOO MUCH. WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO?
The train began to slow to a stop. When the doors opened, Amon pushed his way out and headed for the stairs. He began to search train lines, looking for the fastest route to Wakuwaku Station. He found another train headed back that way, but stopped at the bottom of the staircase and stood there frozen. It wasn’t an express like the one he’d come on and would take nearly forty-five minutes. By that time, their combined actions and interest would drive Mayuko bankrupt. The Liquidators couldn’t technically crash her until all the credicrime verdicts were reached, but the blinding would still drop. Before he even got close enough to fight, Sekido would have Liquidators stationed on the other end. And in all likelihood, the men would hack Mayuko by then. One way or the other, they would both be caught. There was nothing to be done. It was over. Perhaps if he begged them, they would go easy on her.
As Amon was resigning himself to death of one kind or another, he heard the toot of a whistle. Turning his head, he saw a steam engine slowing down alongside his platform on the track opposite the train he had taken. It had a heavy frame of black iron, a dark wood panel interior, and luxurious seats upholstered in burgundy velvet lining both sides. He heard a rhythmic chugging, and as the train passed him his eyes caught black words across a copper plaque on the front: “Oneiro Express.” Amon recognized the name immediately. The Oneiro Express was famous for running to Yume Station, the stop closest to the District of Dreams. In that instant an insight flooded his mind and Amon realized exactly what he needed to do.