“You’ve asked the perfect question. That’s exactly right. The definition of love is to give. And there are rules. Rules that the receiver of that love has to obey. As long as you abide by those rules, you’ll continue being loved.”
The girl, in her simple way, thought that the man was kind. Sticking to the rules was nothing. She’d lived under all sorts of rule and misrule so far. Well, apart from when she ran away from the Welfare Institute, unable to endure any more sexual abuse. But in order to survive since then she had completely stuck to the rules of the adult wonderland she found herself in. She’d done anything, dressed in any way demanded of her.
Nevertheless, one lingering doubt remained: Why me?
She’d asked this question a few times—asked it of the man, asked it when no one else was around. The question of all questions. Why is it me? Why do all the customers ask for me? Why does this man want to give me all these things? Why, out of all the other girls just like me, am I living this sort of life?
The girl really just wanted a simple answer. Like the sort a parent gave a child. Because I love you. She could be loved by the man, or God, or fate. As far as she was concerned, all that mattered was to be loved, and that would be enough to answer all questions such as Why me? That was the answer she wanted from the man. But—
“Never doubt. It’s the road to ruin.”
This rule meant that the girl had to endure a different sort of ordeal from the ones she’d suffered in the past.
“The recipient of love shouldn’t have any doubts. No need to trouble yourself with questions such as Why me? You’re not permitted to have any doubts as to why you are who you are.”
In particular she was absolutely forbidden from touching on the details of the new citizen’s ID card she’d been given.
The result of all this was that she had no idea even of the name under which she’d been registered when he bought her. Not until six months had passed—in other words, not until yesterday.
≡
Behind the high-class AirCar that carried the man and girl through the pleasure quarter of Mardock City was a red convertible. One glance at the convertible revealed that it came from the coastal quarter of the city—the fact that it had tires gave it away. It might have been cheaper to buy a lifetime supply of gasoline than to buy an AirCar (with its Gravity Device Engine that ran virtually for eternity without the need for charging), but at least the owners of the car were able to buy gasoline. That showed that they must’ve been at least something in the city.
“Almost at Central Park. We’re going to need to switch cars, eh?”
An easygoing voice emerged from the driver’s seat. A tall, lanky slip of a man. His hair was tie-dyed, and his charming, reddish-brown eyes were covered by a pair of Tech Glasses of the sort that was so popular with lab researchers.
“Let’s stop and take stock of the situation before we head into Central Park. If it turns out to be nothing to worry about, we should withdraw.”
A rich, booming voice answered, but there was no one else in the car besides the driver.
“No way it’s going to turn out to be nothing. I’m the one who led the profiling on him, right, Oeufcoque?” It turned out the man was speaking to the Nav, the in-car navigation system next to the steering wheel. “That man’s been ‘looking after’ six different runaway girls. Of those, four commit suicide. Two, nobody knows their whereabouts. Look at the stats from the Center for Guardianship of Minors. It just doesn’t add up.”
The man spoke with conviction, and the Nav’s lights flashed in answer.
“On top of that there’s the little fact that all the girls died or disappeared shortly after checking their own citizen’s ID for the first time, right, Doc? Well, I calculate there’s a less than two percent chance that this girl has managed to access a Citizen Records Bureau. The way I figure it, all’s well and good as long as nothing happens to the girl.”
The location, speed, and orientation of the black AirCar in front was shown in precise detail on the Nav’s screen.
“Stop being so damn wishy-washy. We’ve staked our lives on this work here. You don’t want to be treated as trash, right, Oeufcoque? If we don’t get the guys who are behind that man then where’s your usefulness? Nowhere. You’ll be useless—and the fate of useless things is to be disposed of.”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I actually have to hope that something bad’s going to happen to the girl.”
“Sure. Mind you, the real question in this situation is whether the girl is going to accept you. A Scramble 09 like you.”
Presently a blip ran across the screen of the Nav and a dark voice echoed all around.
“With humans…some live as objects, and it’s not always the case that they even want free will.”
“Hey, I’m sure she’ll understand just what a good thing you are. Her life’s in danger. That’s where we save her. She’ll witness our usefulness firsthand, right?”
“Even if she does have her life saved, it’s not at all unlikely that she’ll reject us…”
The screen grew ever more blurred.
“Stop being such a mope. Que sera sera, right? Oi! Hey, stop hiding away.” The man banged at the Nav with increasing urgency, and eventually the screen recovered.
“The target’s left the road. He’s faster than I thought.”
The screen showed that the black AirCar had left the freeway and was moving directly toward Central Park.
“It’s here! He’s changed the autopilot’s course. He’s broken the pattern set over the last forty-seven days.”
The man was gleefully getting ready to give the steering wheel a big yank when the voice of the Nav stopped him in his tracks. “Don’t follow straight after him, Doc. We’ll take a detour and intercept him at his likely destination. Keep your distance.”
No sooner said than a number of possible routes came up on the screen, and before long they settled on one of those.
“Why’ve we chosen this road, Oeufcoque?” asked the man as he turned the steering wheel again.
“ ’Cause if nothing happens we’ll be able to head home on this road without having to pass them.”
The man sighed—he should have known it—and responded, “If nothing happens, eh? Oeufcoque, my naive little soft-boiled friend, do you really think we live in such a gentle world? When you think about it, what is there really that divides our little patch of earth from the fires of hell down below?”
≡
“Ah, yes, and we’re stopping right there beside the lake.” The man slid both his hands over the girl’s body as he spoke.
“Don’t forget to set the timer for our rest. The password’s the same as before.” The man’s hands were creeping incessantly about the girl’s body as she did as he ordered and set the course for the AirCar with the remote. The hands that never broke into a cold sweat even when a hundred thousand dollars was at stake, that had coolly won many a deal, the gamester’s hands that had caused so much excitement in the Shows—these long, slender fingers had now slid into the girl’s underwear, forced her legs apart, burrowed deeper and deeper (or so she thought), and at the same time the other hand played with the swell of her breasts, squeezing and gently pinching them.