Steel Rain (26 page)

Machiko questions her mother's skirt-suit with her eyes and is answered with a brilliant smile and a kiss on the cheek. "We're very proud," her mother says at her ear. "Very proud indeed."

Proud? Machiko puzzles. But only for a moment.

The maitre'd escorts the three of them to a table in a dining room like a great open-air atrium, surrounded on three sides by walls of windows that rise three stories to the single skylight of the ceiling, adorned with plants and dangling vines and hanging bits of golden abstract sculpture.

Machiko hesitates at the table, but then sits, though the
Guard is still on alert and technically she is still on duty. As a practical matter, she has little choice and must make this one exception to usual protocols.

Of course, both Machiko's step-parents have noticed the new sword at her waist, the wakizashi given to her by the Chairman. And they have heard how she came to have it. Her father does not ask but is obviously eager to examine this artifact of favor. He swells visibly with pleasure, perhaps also with pride, as he accepts the sheathed weapon into his hands with a small but formal bow. He seems nearly breathless, his eyes growing huge, as he looks from sword to Machiko, and says, "Could it be ... ? Machiko, this is a true antique, is it not?"

Machiko nods. "The blade was forged in Osafune, Father."

Her mother hesitates. "In Nippon?"

"Yes, of course," her father explains, seeming awed. "Osafune was a famous center for swordsmiths. Where worked the finest smiths of the new period."

Her mother's eyebrows rise to considerable heights.

"Machiko . . ."

"Please examine the blade, Father."

Machiko struggles to maintain her composure, but cannot help smiling. Her father draws just a portion of the blade from its scabbard, exposing barely five centimeters of the polished steel, then just a bit more, regarding the blade as reverently as the image of a Buddhist god; then, turning, seeming enthralled, showing the blade to Machiko's mother. Then they are both enthralled, seeming pleased beyond measure, and in this moment the two of them seem as one, a single mind, a single spirit, looking from the sword to Machiko in harmony and with love.

Seeing the pleasure on her parents' faces, feeling their affection, their love, is an honor almost too great to bear. It moves Machiko very deeply. It warms her beyond measure. She has pleased them, her parents, brought them honor and feelings of pride. This recognition suddenly makes everything she has ever striven for seem to acquire new meaning, makes her life's path seem perfect and whole and as valuable as diamond.

With a bow, her father returns the sword, and once Machiko has returned sword to belt, he says, "When this current situation has been resolved, and the alert has ended, we will celebrate this great honor that is yours."

"This great good fortune," her mother adds, smiling
broadly. "And the honor of your new status among the Guard."

Machiko bows. She also recalls how she came by this great good fortune, and her new status, and that her Older Brother, Sukayo, still clings to life in intensive care. She keeps this to herself, however. It would ruin the moment and spoil her parents' pleasure. It would defeat the entire point of his luncheon.

Four days have passed and much has happened since the night of the assassins' attacks. Machiko's mother made contact via commlink to ask her to lunch. Machiko could not find any reasonable justification for refusing. One hour lost, just now, would make little difference to Nagato Combine, and it is her duty as both a warrior and a daughter to honor these her parents, a duty no less important than any other. That her parents' delight brings her an intimate warmth is merely a pleasant effect of circumstance. She would honor these two regardless of her own personal emotional responses, for they are the only parents she has ever known. They risked much in accepting her for a child. They have devoted many years and much effort to her upbringing. They have shown her much love and care.

Her father orders French wine, but once the wine is poured he seems to deliberate, considering the wine, growing sober of mien. He takes hold of her mother's hand and then says, looking to Machiko, "We are greatly honored to have a daughter such as you. So too, I believe, are our ancestors honored."

Machiko bows deeply. "Words cannot express how greatly I am honored to have such parents."

Her mother smiles, wipes briefly at one eye.

Lunch soon arrives, first appetizers of fruit, then fish and rice and a select assemblage of vegetables, all in delicious and rather artful combinations.

"Machiko," her mother says, "what is really going on? These attacks. We have heard so many conflicting stories. Nagato Corporate Affairs says these are random acts of terrorists, but some people say it's bias, the pure human
fascists."

Before Machiko can say a word, her father says, quietly, "You should not ask our daughter questions like this. She knows we are always concerned about bias. If she is able to tell us anything, she would simply tell us."

"A mother is not always able to maintain such an objective perspective."

"Then a mother should recall that the Chairman relies upon our daughter's discretion. Recall her obligations as a member of the Guard. She stands at the Chairman's side during many confidential meetings. She is privy to the words of the Chairman's closest advisors."

"You are right, of course." Still, her mother's eyes yearn for an answer. With a glance at Machiko, she asks her question again, but immediately looks to her food.

"Besides," Father says, "this is 2058. People do not fear metas like they once did. The Night of Rage occurred nearly twenty years ago. Even if these recent attacks are the result of bias, it is undoubtedly the work of a small group of deranged fanatics, perhaps a single demented sociopath, who will soon be apprehended."

And it is only natural that Father would hold such views. He spends his days surrounded by the enlightened personnel of a Nagato Corp subsidiary. His executive aide is an elf. Many of his managing directors are metas. More than a quarter of Nagato Corp's complete personnel roster are metas: elves, dwarfs, orks, even trolls. It is as fully integrated a corp as one is likely to find.

"I am very foolish," Mother says. "Please forgive me."

But she is not foolish, in no need of forgiveness. She speaks politely, but Machiko cannot regard her words with a settled spirit. It is a mother's duty to care for her child, and but for the single act of conception, a moment in time, they are truly mother and child. Machiko knows this for a fact. She was adopted not as a child or infant. Her original biological parents, both elves, were killed in a terrorist bombing, but the egg from which she evolved had been previously stored in a vault at a fertility clinic. When her true parents decided, out of loyalty to the Chairman's New Way, to adopt a metahuman child, they selected her egg, and this was medically implanted in the womb of the woman beside her now, her true mother in both flesh and spirit.

It was not an easy path to walk. Her mother's health has always been delicate and she suffers from many allergies. She and Father tried many times to have children in the natural way, but always mother miscarried, usually in the first few weeks. Only the most extreme forms of medical intervention allowed her to carry Machiko to term and she spent the last five months of her pregnancy confined to bed, the last two months in the bed of a hospital.

The actual delivery was difficult and full of pain. Machiko has seen the trideo record. She has heard her mother's cries, her desperate pleas to the doctors.

"Oh,
help
me!
Help
my
baby
live!
"

She reaches out, lays a hand over her mother's hand, and gently squeezes. "Do not worry," Machiko says softly. "We will find our enemies soon. Even the Guard aids in the hunt." Mother nods, seeming somewhat reassured. Or perhaps she tries to seem reassured. "Yes," Father says, "we saw this on the news. Gongoro-san met with some violence."

Machiko nods. "The Chairman has authorized me to deploy the Guard, to divide our responsibilities. We are working with the forces of Nagato Corp and the clans."

"You could have been killed at clan headquarters," Mother says.

Father scowls, but says softly, "You must not speak like this."

"I cannot help it."

"Machiko fulfilled her duty. She saved the Chairman and earned great honor."

"I am just so afraid." And now Mother smiles embarassedly. She looks to Machiko and says, "Afraid for you."

"I understand," Machiko replies.

"Do you?" She takes Machiko's hand in both of her own and says, "Your warrior's ways are sometimes so foreign to me. I am so proud of everything you have accomplished, and yet I sometimes wonder what happened to the little girl I used to take shopping. You giggled so sweetly. Now it's rare to see you even smile."

Machiko considers, then says, "I have my mother's heart and my father's resolve. Both these gifts vie within me constantly. My thoughts are preoccupied by duty, but sitting here with you I am filled with feelings of love and devotion."

"Are you happy with how your life has gone?"

"Very happy." And, discreetly, Machiko smiles.

Mother briefly rises and comes to embrace her.

Dessert soon arrives, and then tea, and then lunch is over. Machiko walks her parents to their car. They have come in one car, a Toyota Elite driven by a Security Service officer and further escorted by an unmarked sedan. As they pause beside the limo, Machiko looks to her father, and says, "Is there anything going on at Neurocomp that might give rise to special interest on the part of another corp?"

Father seems puzzled by the question, puzzled and yet wary of it. He is the chief executive officer of the Nagato subsidiary named "Neurocomp."

"Why do you ask?" he says.

"Interest was expressed to me by a security officer of another corp," Machiko says. "I'm wondering if anything special is going on. Anything that might attract attention."

Father does not want to speak of this in the open, so they all get into the rear of the limo and close the doors. "The research division has been engaged in a special project for some time," he says. "Have we suffered a breach in security?"

"I do not know," Machiko says. "It may be that nothing definite is known, that only word of a special project has slipped out, but its nature remains unknown."

Father looks to Mother, and says, "We will have to initiate an immediate check on our facility and people."

"Yes, of course," Mother agrees.

"What does the special project involve?" Machiko asks.

Father looks at her, hesitates. "Am I permitted to tell you?"

The question is surprising enough that Machiko herself hesitates. Ordinarily, it would never come up.

Machiko's salary and other benefits flow through the Security Directorate of Nagato Corporation, and for purely legal purposes she is registered as a security officer of the corp, but she is not truly a corporate employee. The Green Serpent Guard is the elite force belonging exclusively to the Chairman. They obey only those orders that come from Honjowara
-sama
himself. They accompany Honjowara
-sama
wherever he goes and everyone knows this and so no one would ever question their right of access to any clan or corporate property.

Information regarding a highly secret research project is a different matter. Ordinarily, Machiko would have no reason to request such information. That her request should be allowed immediately becomes apparent. "Father, I am acting senior of the Guard. In effect, I ask as the Chairman's personal agent."

"Yes, of course." Father lifts a hand to his brow and briefly shakes his head, as if now imagining he had temporarily lost his senses. "Access to this project has been very tightly controlled. Forgive me. The suggestion that our security may have been compromised in some degree is very unsettling."

Mother says, in a worried tone, "Only the highest-rated personnel have any access to the project at all."

Father nods agreement. "It began as matter of curiosity," he says. "A few of our senior researchers began considering the processing power of linked processors. They performed some tests in their spare time and eventually these tests led to promising models and their after-hours experiments became an official project."

"How is this different from other projects?"

"Because here the processors are human specialists," Mother says. "Deckers, Machiko. Very highly skilled deckers." A frustrated look abruptly comes over her features. "It is difficult to explain in lay terminology."

"There is the issue of translation," father says.

"Yes." Mother nods abruptly. "The ordinary interface between mind and machine is a sort of filter. Computer code must be translated into a form that can be understood by the human brain. And the language of the brain must be translated for the computer. And as with all transactions something is always lost. In time, if not also accuracy of command transfer. As a practical matter, the loss is infinitesimal and of no real significance. The human mind is hardly any less powerful for venturing into the Matrix. By this, I mean that the effect on processing power is negligible. But as we strive toward higher orders of processing operations, the loss becomes more pronounced. When we have several deckers working in combination through the Matrix, with all their sharing of data and commands being translated and retranslated, we find the machines must wait and wait while the human command processors are making decisions about system operations."