“The format doesn’t really matter right now. Just write it however you feel. It could be anything. For instance, Yukikaze’s actions. What did you think about that?”
“I thought they were dangerous,” Lieutenant Katsuragi said.
“Just like that. They want your personal evaluation of Yukikaze, what happened aboard her, and what the JAM did. Write down your impressions as clearly and simply as you can. You can write what you’re thinking about right now. You had a lot to say when we were flying back, didn’t you?”
“I can’t be accurate now unless I watch Yukikaze’s recording of—”
“Even unreliable descriptions are vital data,” Rei said. “You might change your mind later, and that’s fine. This isn’t about which data set is the correct one. Both are reality. Unless you write it down, if you change your mind later on, you won’t be able to assess how it changed or whether it was for better or for worse. This is for your benefit, not anyone else’s.”
“Hmm…”
Lieutenant Katsuragi remembered what Colonel Rombert had told him.
Report your experiences accurately. But you don’t have to evaluate what you’re writing about. That’s my job.
So the SAF was demanding that he do the opposite of what the Intelligence Forces colonel had told him to do. This was the first time he had been in such a situation, and Lieutenant Katsuragi was confused.
Rei looked up at the lieutenant and saw his newbie partner glaring at the blank white page as if his task now was more difficult than any of his duties aboard the plane. But he must have sensed Rei’s gaze, even through the thick plastic walls, and turned toward him.
“Captain Fukai,” said the lieutenant again.
“What?” replied Rei.
“Have you written your reports for your own benefit up till now?”
“What’s got into you all of a sudden? You must have written them for Colonel Rombert.”
“Not reports on my subjective impressions. Those wouldn’t pass muster with the colonel.”
“He doesn’t see any point to subjective impressions?”
“I don’t know how to write it down. There’s some stuff I don’t want them to know,” he said. “Like how pissed off I was when you just let Yukikaze handle the flying and wouldn’t take evasive action.”
“You must have felt angry with me, wondering how what I was doing would save us. Don’t try to hide it.”
“Major Booker will just see that as me making excuses for myself. He’ll be the first one to read these, right?”
“Lieutenant, if you keep thinking about that, you’ll never write anything. The SAF doesn’t care about that stuff. We made it back alive. Survival is our most vital duty. The SAF wants what we’ve learned in order to survive, that’s all.”
“You mean nobody’s going to give me any grief no matter what I write?”
“Are you afraid Major Booker’s going to punch you? Or that you’ll be reprimanded? Getting punched for no reason and then stifling the complaint is part of being in the military. I’d think knowing why you were being hit is better, not that I have any experience with that.”
“Hmm…”
“You’re getting hung up on trivial stuff because you think you’re being made to write it. We’re now in a position to suggest what they should do. This is a privilege, not a duty,” Rei explained. “We’ve met the JAM, so we can tell our superiors what we think they should do to keep from getting killed by the enemy, or what we want them to do. That’s vital information for forming strategies to counter the JAM. If you want to meet the JAM again, ask for the opportunity. If you think fighting them is useless, write that. Nobody can criticize you for what you write in that report. Not General Cooley or Major Booker or anybody. What we feel, what’s in our hearts here and now, that’s reality. The SAF can’t ignore reality or criticize us for it.”
“The SAF could suspect us of being JAM,” Lieutenant Katsuragi replied. “The truth is, they already do.”
“If they doubt us, we can suspect that this is all a virtual space created by the JAM and doubt them right back.”
“You’re saying it isn’t necessary to deal with that risk?”
“I think we should be prepared for the possibility,” Rei said. “Believe in yourself, Lieutenant. That’s all we can do right now. That’s what you can do for yourself. I started writing my report by being honest and keeping that in mind.”
Thinking about how Major Booker hadn’t shown his face since they’d returned, Rei returned to his writing. After a normal mission, Major Booker would come down for Rei’s report, but not this time. It was possible that Booker’s conspicuous absence was a sign that Rei was in a virtual world, but even as he considered the possibility Rei wondered what the point of such a deception would be. If this was a virtual world so perfect that not even Yukikaze could see through it, then it wouldn’t be that different from the real world.
If, in the future, the JAM were to tell me that this really was… Well, even if he found that out, that wouldn’t mean the destruction of his self. Even if he was told that he was actually a JAM duplicate and that his original self was dead, it wouldn’t change a thing. Oh, it would open up all sorts of questions about the nature of his identity, there was no doubt of that. But that didn’t necessarily mean the annihilation of his existence. It would be like having his parents tell him that he wasn’t really their child. The situation would open the possibility of losing his sense of place in the world, but it wasn’t a direct threat to his actual life.
He’d go on eating and sleeping and experiencing the trivialities of existence until he eventually grew old and died. So long as I keep meeting the challenges of this thing called life, it would be no different, Rei thought. The most important thing, even before the question of how best to live, was being clear in knowing what he wanted to do. He had come back alive; that was the most important thing.
Rei was totally exhausted, but he hadn’t gotten a moment of sleep before Major Booker showed up to say he was amazed they’d made it back. As Booker read over the report he’d written, Rei felt he needed to give his head a rest as he kept thinking about the JAM, but he couldn’t. He just couldn’t forget about them and sleep.
“I’m amazed I made it back too.”
I must look like death warmed over, Rei thought, but he could easily say the same thing about Major Booker as his commander stepped into the plastic tent.
“Should you come in here, Major?”
“Does it matter? I feel like I’ve caught JAM fever, along with everyone else around here.”
“Everyone being who, exactly?”
“Starting with General Cooley, everyone in HQ. Everyone pretty much got sick when they downloaded the combat intel from Yukikaze and played it back.”
“You’re saying it made them physically ill?” Rei said.
“In a manner of speaking. I mean we’re exhausted from analyzing it. The only one who seems to be enjoying it…” Major Booker looked behind him as he spoke. “…is Captain Foss.”
Outside the tent, Edith Foss shrugged her shoulders.
“Edith,” the major said. “Could you just come inside this depressing tent with me already?”
“I think it’d be wise to wait a bit longer. And keep your voice down before you wake up Lieutenant Katsuragi. Let him get some rest.”
“Well, he is an important guy now, I guess. Rei—”
“Could you get me a cold beer, Jack? And leave the debriefing for later?”
“Edith, can you write Rei a prescription for beer, please?”
“Pardon?”
“Dr. Balume, the chief flight surgeon here, keeps a stash in the medicine refrigerator. You don’t need to write a prescription for it. It’s pretty much an open secret around here.”