Pollen

Hachiko Arcade—mecca to the league of professional gamers. A splendid celebration of digital neon vomit on every surface. People didn’t come here for an hour or two; they came here for days. The truly devoted didn’t need to take food or bathroom breaks; their needs were taken care of digitally. The EEG read the impulses of the user, and tubes attached could dispose of waste. They could order anything from the menu in their minds, to be delivered to them and consumed by them without moving: gourmet liquid food pumped through pouches.

Hanako held back at the entrance, clutching a stuffed toy dragon, she refused to enter. Shunka and Mana left her with words of calm and pushed into the main hall. The cavernous space was a converted four-story-high atrium with ornate trestle work overrun with vine-like, thick wires pumping data around like connecting highways. High above their heads, the vines all led into the side of a giant black cube that stretched almost the entire length of the roof. The only markings on its smooth surface were Cloud D14.

It wasn’t the deathly hovering of the black cube that made them uneasy; it was the noise. A huge arcade, packed with gamers, almost silent. Even the pinball machines didn’t make a noise. The players hooked into their augmented reality, and they didn’t need to speak; they only needed to think and the EEG did the rest for them. The result was a twitching mass of a thousand people—neon zombies.

“A silent disco,” Shunka whispered.

“Not a great place for a trap,” said Mana.

“Listen, is she”—Shunka nodded back to the entrance with her head—“going to hold it together?”

“Maybe,” said Mana.

“Great. You know it’s a good day when you have a borderline personality karaoke star about to have an emotional breakdown. One who also happens to own twin forearm flamethrowers. It makes me feel”—she took a deep breath through her nose—“excited.”

Shunka and Mana walked past crowds of gamers, all gathered into a tight huddle around curved blue screens, their eyes darting about widely as though they were in a coma, desperately trying to break free. They passed booth after booth, each with a signature mark above and a wire snaking to the black heavens. Each gamer hooked with tubes into the hub above and below. Graffiti on some of the tubes made them look like tails, or gas mask apparatus. Those were the serious types; they spent so much time there they’d purchased their own tubes and modified them.

They left the long corridor of booths to enter a giant red-carpeted area known as the void. Two hundred gamers sat on high-end tech chairs that took care of every need. They even sent electrical pulses through a gamer’s muscles to ward off any atrophy. This was a twelve-hour-minimum massive multiplayer game some gamers here would log in over a hundred hours a week. The chairs reclined slightly and the gamers’ heads tilted upward a few degrees to a huge blue disc. These guys didn’t need an augmented reality; their experience was deeper and richer. The blue disc was there to provide calm and a sense of orientation when the gamer finally logged out. Their minds drained from the strain of their death-defying adventures, their killer upgrades, and their drive to win the all-important trophies.

Behind them stood four stories of spacious balconies: the High Roller Suites. The two hundred here in the void were all competing for spaces above. Garish laser lightshows spat out of the windows like a clash of spears and shields, epic coliseums of battle between the very best. Access to these rooms was gained only through absolute dedication. Everything was free there, online and offline. Boys, girls, animals—there was no vice too extreme, and no taboo raised an eyebrow. The vines of wires interconnected each room and all fed upward, like a jungle canopy, to the serious hardware.

“This entire place is run from above,” Mana whispered.

“Speaking of which . . .”

“I saw them, too.”

Shunkas’ steely gaze aimed upward. Three figures stood sentinel on the top balcony. Their dark blue suits well-cut and refined, they were royalty watching their subjects. Shunka recognized their stance was like her own. They were obviously trained men. On either side of them were beautifully rendered chrome skeletons, relics of an older age. Mana tugged at his jacket to straighten it up.

“We’re going up there, aren’t we?” Mana hesitated.

“Yes we are,” Shunka said thoughtfully. “I’ve always wanted to see a Hachiko Arcade suite. It’ll be a treat.”

“Er . . . great.” He scratched his nose.

“Could be the story of a lifetime,” said Shunka with encouragement.

“I get the feeling the longer I hang around with you the shorter my lifetime will be.”

“Thanks.”

Shunka led the way. The synthetic marble staircase wound up as the lurid glow of the red walls and the smell of hot machines fused to create a sensory experience like that of being cooked in an oven. Shunka fired up every mod in her body, and an augmented display fizzed through her retina, assessing everything in her field of vision. Infrared revealed three people and two ghostly skeleton frames waiting behind double doors at the end of the hallway. A simple red carpet and golden chandeliers led the way to beautiful gilded double doors. This suite was the biggest of all, reserved for the champions of champions, able to hold over 100 gamers, and with a wide view over the whole arcade. This was holy ground.

“Do we knock?” Shunka whispered out of the side of her mouth.

“I’m not sure. I thought it would open for us. They do know we’re coming.”

“I’ll knock,” Shunka said, raising her hand.

Before she had a chance, the door gently swung open. The High Roller Suite had everything: a screen sixty feet wide by twenty feet tall, a kitchen complete with chef, a giant lounge area with several massage therapists, all specializing in gamer injuries. Normally this place would be full of people, but not tonight.

The three guys in immaculate suits stood without a crease on them anywhere. Behind them were the two chrome skeletons. Now that she was closer to the skeletons, Shunka could make out hundreds of little opaque tubes feeding blue liquid into sacks in their rib cage. The liquid pumped out from where the heart would be, and their bronze hands seemed older than their shining chrome bodies. The men stood behind a broad wooden table, each of them with a sort of pouting grimace that looked contrived.

“Nice work at the studio. You must be super proud of that one,” Shunka said, attempting to be as sarcastic as possible.

“It was a functional success,” said the man in the middle coldly. He stepped forward. His hair was slicked back; he was going for the biker look, but lacked the commitment. His sharp brow cut over his bright blue eyes like a dagger—they were seething like his thin mouth.

“Got a name, or should I call you a goon?”

“You can call me Mr. Kirnio. Have you heard the news?” he said in a hushed, controlled manner.

“Yeah, I need to talk to you about that. Seriously,” she was aiming for condescension, but wasn’t sure she was hitting the right note. “We have enough problems in this city without fighting each other.”

“We have problems, little girl, because we have no leadership. We have no leadership because there is a stalemate between the Union and the Farmers.”

“So this city isn’t big enough for the both of us?” Shunka was irritated he’d managed his condescension so perfectly.

“No, this is a question of leadership, of values. We need land to expand our people, our power—our way of life. This cage will not hold us anymore. With the public convinced of your murderous corruption, the Transport Union will step in and lead this district.”

“Power? That’s it? You want more power than you have? I thought there was some sort of escape plan, or a doubling of security against outside threats. You want to rule and that’s worth killing innocent people?” Shunka could feel an old emotion at the base of her throat wanting to erupt, but she couldn’t identify it. A mod corrected the rise of stomach acid and calmed her down again.

“It doesn’t matter who dies at first. You think any nation sprung peacefully out of nowhere? Blood . . . it is blood that paves the way for strong leaders and a strong people. The only organization strong enough to stop us is the Farmers. You cowards, you hide behind your self-defense and your apathy. You are the reason we are weak, keeping us barely fed, maintaining a status quo that has led to the corruption and stagnation of us all.” He studied her face and a slight scowl caught the side of his mouth. “You’re not here for that, though, are you?”

“I’m here because one your employees, a little fucker called Chow X, has set my best friend up to take a fall for a crime you commissioned.”

“Really?” He cracked a smile. “And I thought you had it all figured out. This is a revenge mission for you. I must admit, I had hoped this was going to be a lot more entertaining.”

“Well how’s this?” She continued. “You work for the Union, you commissioned said fucker Chow X to hack the Farmers’ network and hide the data he obtained in the gamestream. You implicated the best friend of a Farmer as a criminal, then, you set up a massacre to scare the shit out of everyone and start a food crisis, which of course only you can fix. I’m guessing the data you stole was the bacterial agents that the Farmers use to make the meat. I’m sure as hell no one else has that kind of technology. Imagine the power you’d have if you controlled all goods in and out of Little Tokyo, and all the food production. I’m sure you would spark up some relations with the Traders again and sell the technology to the outside world. It all comes back to your need for power, your greed, and your self-gratification.” Shunka spat out the last word with all the venom she could find.

“Not bad. I thought you’d have some sort of proof, but not bad. You’re almost right, but we aren’t concerned about the outside. They are the ones protecting us, in our little city; we are far too precious to them.”

“They’re protecting us?” said Shunka.

“Of course they are, my silly little adolescent. Why do you think we have lived so undisturbed for so many years? Don’t you understand? This city is a nation. And a nation needs a leader, someone who can unite, expand, and protect. This is our land. We have to take this city for our own,” he snarled.

“You’re right; this is our land inside the walls. The other districts—that’s their land, not ours. What gives you the right to declare them an enemy?”

“Strength.”

“So you are going to kill innocent people and take their land because you think you’re stronger than them?” said Shunka.

“No,” Mana said, “They are going to sell our secrets to the highest bidder in the outside world and get them to do it so that there is no blood on their hands. “

“I am pleased this got entertaining; I was so sure it would be a bore.” Kirnio said.

“You’re leading us to war.”

“We are leading our people to a better life, a united city whose strength would be a world power.”

“Why the fuck don’t you do something noble and lead us out of this city and into the world if you are so strong? Give people a choice?” Shunka said, the despair shredding through her like a bitter blade.

“Because this city is our world, little girl. This is our holy land. We are too weak within our little district to take on the outside powers, but soon well be able to rise up . . .”

“You’re an idiot!” Shunka interrupted him mid-speech.

“And you are blind,” he retorted.

“Who are you doing the deal with?” asked Mana.

He didn’t say, but his eyes betrayed him; he subconsciously glanced right. Shunka took a second to place it, but he was looking toward the City Center. He huffed at them, and turned away. The skeletons moved forward slowly. The blue blood pumped faster and pistons hissed; their footsteps made the floor vibrate.

“You know I’m a Farmer, and some walking piece of retro tech isn’t gonna stop me.”

“Perhaps. Your associate however might not be so adequately trained in self-defense.”

The skeletons moved between Shunka, Mana, and the door. Shunka drew her sword, while the first skeleton made its move. They were no outdated piece of junk; they moved with lightning speed. She parried its blows, the nSword not making a dent on the skeleton’s armor. The other one moved for Mana, he picked up a glass from the table and threw it at the skeletons’ ribcage. He looked at Shunka and shrugged his shoulders. “I’m out of ideas.”

They were too fast and strong; she couldn’t defend herself and protect Mana at the same time. Mana backed away to the wall. The Union members strolled to the doors talking quietly, gloating. As they opened the door they stopped, surprised. Shunka couldn’t see what was out there, but they backed away as she blocked three more blows. The skeletons sensed the danger their masters were in and turned to help them.

Shunka took her chance and placed a perfect jab through the rib cage into the blue heart of one and then spun around and angled her second jab to hit the brain bag of the other. The thick blue goo spurted out of them, and their joints froze. At the door stood the cutest Lolita in the world in pigtails and a sailor suit—she entered slowly. “Did you change your clothes?” Shunka called out, smiling. Hanako wasn’t listening; she had her double flamethrowers pointed at the Union members. Kirnio held his hands up, genuine fear ripped across his face.

“Hanako! No! We need them, they’ve got answers,” shouted Shunka.

“Hi boys,” she whispered, her eyes glazed over, possessed. She lowered her head and glared out beneath her bright blond bangs. “Have you seen my movies?”

Kirnio jumped back a step, but his associates stood frozen, mouths agape. “We’ll hunt you and make you bleed, you filthy prostitute,” Kirnio shouted as he took another step back.

“Don’t call me a fucking prostitute.” Her flamethrowers erupted, shooting out an intense liquid flame that set Kirnio’s associates on fire instantly, but he’d activated an app in his feet, and he sprang back toward the balcony. He crashed through the doors and leaped over the edge, falling four stories into in the middle of a pack of digital zombies, then sprinted away.

His associates screamed, but Hanako didn’t stop—the fire began to consume the suite. Shunka ran to her and shook her from her rage. The Union men were on their knees now, crawling toward the balcony, they couldn’t even moan anymore, as their tongues had melted. They both collapsed. The acrid smell of their smoke was worse than a month-old rotting carcass. The suite erupted in fire, flames twisting widely over the walls and steaming across the red carpet.

Shunka grabbed Hanako by the collar and they ran down the hall, the inferno licking after them. The alarm hadn’t rung yet, and in fact, there was no commotion at all. Then, it hit her. All the sensors in the suite must have been disabled. She realized they must have recorded the encounter to show their boss what she knew. Kirnio and his associates were just expendable pawns. That meant that the moment Hanako scorched them would be the latest breaking story soon.

The arcade mainframe initiated a self-protect fire drill. Mana led the way down the stairs, escaping the flame retardant foam spewing out of the sprinklers, and they made it back out to the main floor. The flames had broken through the balcony, and roared up the vines to form a black cloud.

“Check your EEG; the clip is already making the headlines,” Shunka shouted.

Sure enough, the video showed cherished celebrity Hanako torching two Union employees to death while Mana, a respected journalist and Shunka, a talented Farmer, dragged her out.

“Hanako, get your driver to pull around to the front of this building. We need an escape route fast.”

Hanako nodded. They ran through the arcade, and quickly heads began to turn as the zombies, now released from their digital dreams, began to realize that the hottest clip online was actually happening right in front of them. The three fugitives slammed through the entrance doors and into the neon night. Hanako’s car pulled up with precise timing, like the driver was used to getting her out of sticky situations in a hurry.

“Take the back streets, anywhere quiet,” Shunka ordered as they entered. She pressed silent mode on the glass separating driver and passengers.

“Well, what the hell are we going to do now? We can’t clear Miyu’s name and expose the Union as a bunch of warmongering megalomaniacs while we’re running for our lives, too.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” said Mana, searching for a drink in the mini bar under the seat.

“Why not?”

“Two can play at that game.” He pulled out a large bottle of sake and raised his eyebrows at Hanako.

“My boyfriends like it,” Hanako said quickly. “I only ever drink sparkling.”

“Okay, princess,” Mana replied.

“If we’re not too busy debating alcohol preferences, can we focus our collective attention on the giant mess we are in?” said Shunka.

“Those Union pricks had a lot of high-tech surveillance in there, but you don’t get as many exclusive stories as I have without learning a thing or two.” Mana sat back with a satisfied grin, holding his drink.

“Tell me you got them, the whole thing?” Shunka’s eyes widened.

“Afraid not kid, I spent the first half of the conversation running stealth programs; I didn’t want them to find my best recorder. They managed to scramble most of it, but I got enough data out.” He blinked. “Here take a look, I’ve published it across my groups; there’s a lot of well-informed, influential people in my groups. Everyone who matters will see this in the next few seconds. I’ve got the video and audio unscrambled from the time they started talking about the city being a nation born out of blood. It clearly shows that they are working for those in charge and that they ordered the skeletons to harm us. It shows that they are willing to kill innocent people for power and expansion. It’s not exactly a ringing endorsement of our character, but it puts our scorcher here into a little context,” Mana pointed to Hanako.

“Pres said you’d come in handy; he wasn’t joking.”

“Hadn’t we better hide or something?” said Hanako. “I mean either way, I still just murdered two guys for everyone to see, and now they can see it from different angles.”

“She’s got a point.”

The rain sizzled as it hit the hotplate streets; silently they made their way into a sprawl of residential houses. Shunka rolled the window down, and the glass roads gave way to concrete. The warmth and smell of rain offered her comfort for a moment. Dawn was not far away, but she couldn’t think straight.

Long strip lights ran the length of the street on the sides of buildings burned red in the dark while huge silent clouds formed overhead. The absence of the moon provoked a deep-seated paranoia in Shunka. Now, the flames from the arcade were clearly visible behind her; a mountain of fire grasped at the sky. The smell of burned flesh lingered in her nose and it made her stomach turn, but there was no time to be sick; she’d do that later.

They turned a corner to several LED billboard ads completely covering the fronts of several houses, but for a door at their base; the owners must have received a pretty payday for giving up the front of their home. The slick pavement, dappled in artificial color, danced about as the car slowly and smoothly rolled on. Shunka felt dizzy watching the streets roll by. The motion took her stomach away and she thought about her past.

“We’re getting out,” she announced. I need some air. I need to think.” The car stopped and they stepped out into the warm haze of light rain. “Hanako, tell your driver to circle ahead. We might need him again.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Hanako asked, slowly stepping out of the car like a naughty child.

“I know some people nearby and I need the air.” Shunka sighed.

They pressed on through the right angles of the city streets. All the public spaces, the small green squares, were manicured to within an inch of their lives. It was both comforting and frightening here; her mind repeatedly tried to access her memories of this place. All the sights and the smells were familiar, but her mind refused to give up the information no matter how she tortured herself.

She had to keep moving forward. The past was a gravestone. The straight streets beamed adverts for hand cream, bike mods, bars, and a ton of other crap that felt like home. Shunka wasn’t sure what home was anymore. Was it a place or people? Why did wood and brick define home for her? Shouldn’t it be the feeling that you were safe? Safe in such a way that if a guy on a bike rolled up outside with a nuke, you wouldn’t worry because you knew you were safe. You would know that there was no way that nuke would go off as long as you were home. This is what she wished for, but she knew it would never happen. She had to keep pressing forward, always looking to the future, carving her life out one day at a time.

These thoughts were a major distraction and one she could ill afford. At each street corner in this mouse maze she expected to face a firing squad of Union employees or the start of a riot, wanting farmer blood. Each turn, however, revealed an empty street with adverts relentlessly pumping out slogans and marketing theory behind their thirty-second epic adverts. Then she saw an ad for the Transport Union, looking for more members.

The ad started with a happy, smiling family, eating food, playing games, a picture of a good wholesome life. Then the screen went black with a simple question in bold white text: Where does this all come from? They flashed up hundreds of products that keep the generic family happy. The Transport Union: You name it, we ship it. In the ad, a Union worker arrives at the happy family’s house to deliver a package. The final message, still in ominous black and white, read: Join the Union drive and stay happy. As they passed the screen, Shunka let her blade run across it. The gash caused a short circuit and the ad flickered on and off, trapping a still of that last line.

The houses began to thin as the neighborhood turned poorer. Fetid piles of rubbish accumulated in corners and rotten food husks littered the streets. It looked like the end of a festival but without the clean-up crew. Flipped over boxes formed mini market stalls ready for use in the morning; placards advertising bags, shoes, electronics and bike parts were scattered everywhere. Dirty plastic sheets rustled in the wind, weighed down at the corners with rocks. Wires dangled overhead like zip-lines from building to building. Broken hoardings and awnings hung outside shops like broken teeth.

“What are we doing?” asked Mana softly.

“I’ve called in a few favors.”

“Okay great, can’t we drive to your favors?” Mana said, tired and agitated.

“You don’t drive up to these people; they come to you and they do it their way.”

Suddenly Hanako felt very alone. “Where are we going?” she asked, rubbing her bony arms in the deepening cold.

“A safe place,” Shunka spoke clearly. “It’s near here, and we’ll be meeting a friend.”

“It doesn’t look very safe around here if you ask me.”

“No it’s not, so I’d keep quiet. There’s a garrison of crooks around these parts. So hush up.”

“Hey why are you so mad at me?” said Hanako.

“You screwed us out of finding out who the enemy is.”

“It’s the Union, right?”

“Yeah, but who in the Union? You need a name. We can’t just go around roasting everyone, can we?”

“What about that slippery back-flipping guy?”

“Love,” Mana interjected, “You’re facing an invisible enemy; they are the worst. And until your impromptu barbecue, we had a face.”

“Well I’m sorry, okay.” Hanako crossed her arms and looked at her feet. Shunka almost burst out laughing. “Next time I’ll keep myself to myself, shall I?” Hanako sulked.

“Well, that’s probably not a good idea,” Shunka said. “See these streets? You notice anything strange about them?”

“No, they’re empty, apart from all this trash everywhere,” Hanako said.

“Exactly. People make this rubbish and this neighborhood is always busy.”

“So there’s no one here because . . .” She took a second. “We are walking into a trap,” she said, delighted with herself.

“You know what?” Shunka said drawing her sword, “I’m starting to warm to you.”

“Thanks.” Hanako giggled.

“But cut out that Lolita shit.”

“Who did you call?” Mana asked. “You said we were going to a safe place to meet a friend of yours?”

“He’s not there yet. This is someone else, and they are close.”

The rumble of engines rippled down the street. In the distance, two cars came hurtling around the corner. Their tires chewed up the road, spitting ultra-clean exhaust fumes, but colored like an ash cloud. These muscle cars rode low, neon glittering beneath the doors.

Shunka stepped forward, sword at her side. Her skirt flapped in the warm breeze. She was burning up. The cars halted twenty meters away next to a stand of old rusting bikes and a half-dead tree. The first morning light caught a flower box of crimson roses on the second floor of the building above the cars. Shunka paused for a second to stare at them and generate a plan.

Seven men emerged from the car, in blue trench coats with big black boots, all of them with spiky hair. Kirnio who had fled the fire at the arcade and gathered this pack; he walked at the front of the group.

“You guys are a little late for the shit Goth boy band competition,” Shunka called out.

A thin mist of rain shimmied before the headlights. Silently they pulled their handguns and took aim.

“Listen, fellas,” Shunka said. She moved her sword to a defensive position; she could hear the whir of Hanako’s flamers sparking up. “Here’s the deal, I’ll take you all on in a sword fight. I mean, guns against blades—that’s not exactly honorable, is it?”

“You’re supposed to be part of the plan, but you’ve become problem. We are not taking any chances with you. If you’ve got a last thought, now is the time to think it,” Kirnio said in a hushed, steady voice. He’d done this before.

Shunka was logged into her EEG; the overlay of the street and their weapons were displayed. Behind her were two market stalls with enough wood to block the first round of bullets; the alleyways would create a bottleneck—it was their only chance. She’d messaged Mana and Hanako to duck left on her command. She shuddered as she accessed a Serpent ammunition round from a pouch that ran up her triceps. The round travelled down a tube, the sensation like swallowing a pebble and feeling it slowly move down your gullet. The round loaded and she shot immediately. It hit the road a few meters in front them and the explosion of chemically enhanced smoke created a thick, lingering bloom almost instantly.

A hail of gunfire ripped through the smoke, but Mana and Hanako had already ducked left, while Shunka had moved to the right. The crackling sound of bullets smashing into the concrete walls and wooden crates created an awful sound. The thugs paused to reload; she heard their heavy footsteps as they darted forward to get a clearer shot.

Shunka ran down the alley and took cover behind a pillar. A sudden flash of yellow and red was quickly followed by screaming, Hanako must have taken aim and hit the attackers with her flamethrowers. By now, lights were switching on all over the neighborhood. She peeked out from the pillar; four of the seven were now rolling around the pavement kicking and screaming like the day they were born.

Two of them were running straight toward her. She steadied herself and spun out from behind her cover, delivering fatal slashes across their throats with two swift movements of her sword. There was one opponent left—Kirnio. She carefully walked back down the alleyway, now brilliantly lit by burning carcasses. Hanako and Mana stood at the entrance opposite. Mana had picked up a gun and was looking pleased with himself. Shunka loaded an explosive round into the Serpent and ran from the cover into the street. But instead of picking off her target or coming under fire, she saw two men in the haze of smoke; a larger figure clearly had the other under control.

“Shunka, my dear,” she instantly recognized the voice of Pres. “Would you mind awfully if we evacuated these streets? It seems you’ve caused quite the scene tonight.”

“Pres!” Shunka shouted, “Oh I love you right now!”

Pres stood over his prisoner, with his sword resting on his shoulder. Behind him was a squad of his Elvis bikers, all packing semi-automatic rifles. Kirnio was cradling his left hand and staring at the floor in disgrace.

“Hey.” Shunka kicked his leg. “See what happens when you don’t fight fair?”

“We will strip his mind bare, he’ll talk to us, reveal his little secrets,” Pres said coldly. “Shunka, we really do need to talk. There’ve been some developments.”

“You’re telling me.”

“And most pressing of all, Cheng is looking for you. In fact, you might say he’s sent an army looking for you. It seems he is rather offended you’ve been ignoring him.”

“I’ve had a lot going on.”

“Not anymore. I’m taking you to him right now.”