Mardock Scramble

Shell grinned. A smile as cold as the drink in his hand. And, his expression suggested, would be just as sharp as the glass would be when it smashed. “With my most recent memories, I’m now ready to proceed with the deal. Not a deal like the sort that’s always come down from higher up. A deal that I’m proposing myself. My memories are the chips. And in order to beat any concealed card, I have you as my ace.”

Boiled nodded silently.

“And, as payment, the past. For most people it’s invaluable. In my case it’s just worthless. We’re just talking about a josh, stuff I don’t even want to remember, stuff that leaves a bad taste in my mouth.”

A low-pitched laugh leaked out of Shell. Boiled said nothing.

“I started life as a cheap little bookie—a punter—for OctoberCorp. Then I earned my stripes as a star gambler. I had a casino entrusted to me, and money started flowing in left, right, and center. That led to a job cleaning money. I cooked up schemes to launder their money—and accrue interest at the same time—that they hadn’t even dreamed of. I gave rookie politicians—those on their way into federal government—the chance to enjoy themselves at preferential rates. I got them to pool the money from their parents’ businesses in our treasury. All sorts of dirty deals.”

Shell spoke in a singsong voice. He was in a frighteningly good mood. Shell was a man who was climbing the Mardock—the Stairway to Heaven—out of the slums and right to the top.

“But do you think I’m going to settle for that? If that’s all I achieve then how am I different from a high-class maid cleaning the toilets of the rich? Maids clean dirty toilets and take care of the beds. I clean dirty money and take care of the bets. No real difference. So I’m making a deal. To make me one of them. I’m able to abandon everything. I can throw everything away, completely, and become a new person. They should know that—I’ve shown it to them many times over, haven’t I? And then when they remembered all the things that I cleaned for them, they started to take me seriously. Do you think that I’ve been pointlessly discarding my memories up till now? You must be joking. They’re safely recorded and stored in a safe place that only I know. That’s my game. And it’s your game too. That’s right, isn’t it, Boiled?”

Boiled slowly nodded his head.

“I’m happy being an empty shell. The contents are still to come. A container to be filled with glory—that’s what I am.”

At this point Shell finally calmed down. Such was the madness of Shell. Who could understand the feelings of a man who sold the memories of his own past piece by piece?

“I think that I’m going to work extremely well having you as my employer.”

Boiled spoke softly. Then, quietly, he took a newspaper cutting from the inner pocket of his jacket and placed it on top of the counter.

“A Mardock Scramble 09 has been proclaimed.”

Shell read the article in silence. He ordered a second gin, then looked at the article again. Not read—looked.

“Who is she? This girl?”

“Rune-Balot. A girl from your dreams who should have died.”

“Dreams? Ah, so, the raw material for a Blue Diamond that the cops in our pay were going to collect for us—it’s still alive and kicking, is that it?” Shell murmured in a voice devoid of any emotion and drank his gin. He drank away his possible past along with the lime juice and Heroic Pills. Shell’s next move came quickly.

“Since when has the case been under someone’s charge?”

“The preliminary courtroom business was concluded a few days ago. The girl gave the Broilerhouse some sort of information and filed charges of status fraud and attempted murder,” said Boiled.

“The Life Preservation Program’s in effect. Proof that Trustees—dirty little PIs—are involved. Have you looked into them?”

“I’ve made inquiries.”

Shell floated a laugh and nodded. The man in front of him wasn’t the sort to commit an oversight. Boiled was much tougher and smarter than any bodyguard Shell had ever hired, and because of his effectiveness and broad remit his salary was also in a different league than his predecessors’.

During the war Boiled had been part of the elite Airborne Division and had participated in the invasion of the enemy’s land across the sea as part of the Commonwealth’s front line of troops. Whereas Shell had avoided conscription due to his mental disorder and had no experience of war. So Shell was extremely pleased with Boiled’s past as a former soldier. Boiled was able to wipe away Shell’s inferiority complex at not having been able to take part in the war and for this reason was seen by Shell as a most distinguished, talented man.

But at this point Boiled’s face revealed a strange expression. An expression Shell had not yet seen. You could have even called it a troubled expression. Face the same, he spoke the PI’s name:

“Oeufcoque-Penteano.”

“An unusual name. Is he from the Continent? Did he defect over here during the war?”