Mardock Scramble

She tried to lift the electronic restraint on the car, and found she could, increasing the speed further and further.

“What about your seat belt? You want to drive the car at full speed, have some fun? Then let’s set our course for a theme park. There’s this fighter plane game where you can experience Mach 2.”

–Why are you suddenly being nice to me again?

“Because I want you to obey the rules—and to learn to choose for yourself which rules are worth obeying.”

Obey the rules—those words again. Balot swung her head back. She really didn’t want Oeufcoque to be telling her this.

–But you lied when you gave a false address. Is it right to lie?

“It’s a perfectly legitimate forwarding address. There’s an apartment and a postal address there. It’s just set up so that no one can tell who lives there.”

–Are you angry with me? Because I tampered with the traffic lights?

“No, not angry. It’d take more than fiddling with some lights to make me angry. Even if we’d been hit by a car, it’d be you who was hurt, not me. Even if someone died as a result of your actions I’m sure no one would be able to work out the cause of the accident, and I wouldn’t turn you in. And even if there was then another similar accident, well, I’d give you a good cross-examining, but I still wouldn’t be angry. Just sad.”

–I just got a bit carried away. Don’t get so mad at me. I was enjoying our shopping trip.

“I just want you to promise. About using your abilities in ways that could hurt innocent bystanders. You don’t want to throw away your rights to use your Scramble 09 powers, right?”

–I won’t do it again. I’ll think before I do anything. Don’t be mad at me.

“I’m not mad at you. You’ve got such incredible aptitude. I was surprised by your manipulation of the traffic lights. They’re specifically designed so that they can’t be controlled remotely, at least not easily. You’re full of surprises.”

–Don’t put it like that.

“Okay, okay, sorry.”

–I’ll promise.

“Sure. And for my part, I’ve no desire to make you obey any arbitrary rules.”

Oeufcoque spoke in a soothing voice.

“In other words, when I’m telling you no, I’m talking about a fairly basic precept when it comes to using your powers. It’s also something that will protect you. And, similarly, if I tell you not to do something then I won’t be doing it either. Absolutely not. As a basic precondition for my being with you. This is the deal between us—do you understand?”

At that moment, out of nowhere, she remembered the Doctor’s words. Balot had chosen her current body, chosen her circumstances. This was part of the answer to the question—Why me?—it was, she thought, an established fact.

Balot gripped the crystal. Not to snarc it. She just held it tight.

After that she put on her seat belt and reduced the speed of the car.

The car now entered a district filled with clusters of tourist shops and was about to settle at the base of the imposing Trump Tower. Balot snarced the car and changed its destination to the East Side.

The harbor drew near, and both the sidewalks and the roads started to grow more congested. All around her were gasoline-powered cars, and among the proliferating shopping malls of the Cheap Branchers—the middle classes—she found the flea market.

Now and then men would wolf-whistle at Balot, seeing her in the car alone, but they showed no signs of advancing on her, guns in hand, grinning maniacally.

Balot opened the window and sniffed the air, which carried a hint of brine.

Eventually the car came to a stop in a designated car park for rental cars.

As she got out of the car and started walking, she came across a gathering of obviously able-bodied teenagers who had parked their gas-powered cars in the free spaces designated for vehicles with placards for the handicapped.

As she walked past Balot snarced the gate of the parking lot. The teenagers looked on in horror as the gate slammed shut. As one, their faces turned to the emergency aid button. Faces that were silently calculating the fines they would have to pay for being caught using the handicapped spaces without a permit.

–Well, you’ve got to obey the rules, right? Balot asked through the crystal, using a silent, electronic signal.

“Uh, yeah.”

Oeufcoque seemed about to say something else, but in the end that was all he said.

The mall was bustling, and a fresh breeze blew through the arcade.