I insisted on resanctifying the shrine. Yushio argued it hadn’t been a real shrine and he shouldn’t delay his death-trip into the sun, but he knew he was on shaky theological ground. How could his death be true to the Way when he would not trouble himself to repair the desecration of such a holy place?
Yushio is a dear man, but whenever he argues with me he is always wrong.
So we cleaned the shrine and put it to rights. Yushio had packed some incense with the intention of burning it as we sailed into the sun; but I convinced him the gods would be happier if we used it at the shrine in a purification ceremony.
While we worked, we discussed what we thought this dragon really was. I knew in my heart it was a true dragon sent by the gods…but I pretended to agree with Yushio that most likely it was a secret super-project that had been abandoned for some reason. Maybe the builders had gone bankrupt and just left the thing here. (Going bankrupt was ever-present in Yushio’s mind.)
Finally I said, “Why speculate? You know this Environment once belonged to the Edo Maru. Radio your company and get them to find out who owns the Environment now.”
Yushio refused. He said his decision to die had cut all ties with the business world…but that just meant he was afraid to talk to people. Finally I made the call myself after he had fallen asleep on rice wine. Our closest branch office was on Venus-Wheel, only a few radio-seconds away. They were glad to know we were still alive, worried the creditors were growing more insistent every day. I cut short that line of conversation, saying “I want to know who owns a freighter called the Edo Maru.”
After a few minutes, the answer came back: “Petrozowski Energy.”
“Yushio wants you to buy it.”
“Buy it? I don’t think we can afford…”
“Get a loan.”
“I don’t think any bank would…”
“Tell the banks,” I said, “Laughing Dragon is about to announce its largest Entertainment Park ever. Tell them we have kept it a great secret because it is a brand new idea. Tell them this park is where all the company’s capital went, and it will repay everyone a millionfold. You hear?”
“Is this true?”
“Yes, it’s all true. Very secret. Very big. In space.”
“In space?”
“Yes, it’s a whole new idea. You’ll see. Get the board of directors. I’ll turn on a tracking beacon so they can find us. They can come and see the marvel Yushio has built. But you must buy the Edo Maru.”
“Perhaps it would be possible…”
“And the Edo Maru’s Environment, and all attached chattels. That is most important. And it is most important Petrozowski Energy does not think this is anything special. You hear?”
“Yes.” And it was done. We purchased the Edo Maru, its Environment, and all attached chattels. The dragon was attached and therefore ours…if humans can claim to own such a beast.
When Yushio awoke, I was looking over his plans for new games and rides. “It would be a shame if these were never built,” I said. He agreed.
By the time the board of directors arrived, Yushio had mapped out two thirds of the Laughing Dragon of Heaven Entertainment World: the Christian Heaven, where adults and children would be given their own wings to play bumpem; Allah’s Heaven with many nimble dancers; Valhalla, filled with much carousing and ax fights against hologram opponents; and many other fine heavens, including a reproduction of the real Heaven centered around the Musubi Shrine.
Now, as we begin construction on the park, the world believes this Dragon was built by our company. They see what they expect to see: the foundation for the greatest entertainment site in the universe.
Only you, Great Empress, will know the truth. It is a truth that should remain secret for a thousand years, for if anyone suspected Heaven’s real nature…well, we know the West has a long tradition of killing dragons. But You—You are Child of the Sun and Sister to Dragons. May the truth do You honor.
VARIATION I: ROC
(NOBILMENTE CON FORZA)
(NOBLY, WITH FORCE)
CONTACT: SEPTEMBER 2078
If this had happened in my grandfather’s time, throats would already be cut. I wouldn’t be talking to a lawyer but to a mortician.
My grandfather was a prince who believed his title meant something. Perhaps it did in those days. Perhaps it still does. At the very least, being a prince means there’s always some university that’s willing to give you a scholarship. Trinity College, Oxford, for me. And you?
I don’t believe I’ve heard of it. Good school, was it? Fine. I want to know we have a top man on this.
You’re a little young to be a full partner, aren’t you? Oh, no, I take that as a promising sign. Of course, you will be discussing the case with your firm’s senior partners? Good. Good.
Now the long and the short of it is this: I want to sue Laughing Dragon’s scaly tail off. Slap criminal negligence charges on anyone whose nose rises out of the foxhole. Permanently ruin a few careers, and if possible, give the whole Laughing Dragon of Heaven Entertainment Park such a reputation for gross mismanagement that no bourgeois little family would think of vacationing there. If we can drive a few of the bastards to commit seppuku, it will be icing on the cake.
Does that sound up your alley?
My dear man, let us understand each other. I am a prince in a line that stretches back more generations than anyone can count, and now, enemies have recklessly slain twenty-three people under my protection. If modern civilization prevents me from taking revenge with a knife, I will use whatever other weapon comes to hand. I have chosen my weapon to be the courts, and I will use that weapon to shed blood for blood, ruin for ruin, life for life. If you stand with me, good. If not…
You want to hear the circumstances first? I approve. Only a barbarian kills without knowing why.
As I’ve said, being a full-blooded prince means little today. I’ve had to work for a living. All in all, I think that’s good for a man. I direct a modest construction company. Our primary business is building orbitals, but we’re happy to put up anything that requires work in vacuum. My crews are drawn from all corners of the Earth, and one was even born on Mars…but you understand, whether or not they are of the blood or the faith, they are my people.
We had contracted with Laughing Dragon to build a part of the amusement park they call Heaven. (I know you’ll want to examine the contract; I’ll leave a copy with you.) Our assignment was a section on the side of the park that’s always turned away from the sun. The section was named Afterlife After Dark…it’s a name that would make a sensible man ill, but a company which refuses to work for fools soon finds itself out of business. And to be honest, my workers found building nightclubs and carousels and roller coasters was a pleasant change from all those oh-so-functional orbitals.
Not that it was easy work. Far from it. The entire surface of Heaven—they seem to want to keep this secret, so splash it around in every interview you give—the entire surface is covered with Petrozowski collector cells. Incredible. How long has Petrozowski been in business? Ten years? I wouldn’t have thought the entire production of all his plants could have made so many cells. Hundreds of hectares in area! And many layers deep…a stupefying achievement. But impossible to dig into. We had to pour concrete foundations on top, covering over a fortune’s worth of the cells…and you can’t imagine the technical difficulties of putting up small environment domes, so you can pour concrete foundations, so you can put up big environment domes. But never mind that now.