Mardock Scramble

Balot didn’t yet understand in full the complexities of Shell’s scheme, but she did understand that she herself had started the ball rolling toward the events that would bring about her own death.

Or rather, Shell had known that Balot would start the ball rolling.

There was no one in her circumstance who couldn’t be aware of just how much they were being used, of what they were being used as.

In the end the petition that they collected together to send in to the Broilerhouse ran to a total of 280 counts of status fraud.

While they were doing that, Balot ordered another cappuccino. The youth from earlier was clearly relieved when Balot called him over and served her with a wink and threw in a free cookie.

As she was working Balot’s hands sometimes stopped, and at these times a strange song would run through her head.

Dish, wash, crash, mash.

A nursery rhyme that she’d once heard. The taste of the cappuccino in her mouth changed to the distinctive acrid taste of the explosion.

Hash, gash, josh, bash.

Once the hellish work was over—work that was like dredging through a swamp with your face—Balot sat still, unflinching, staring at the monitor. The long-decayed contents of a broken shell. No tears came. Her head was strangely cool. Even as it spewed forth its poison, her heart continued to beat steadily.

“I didn’t think we’d be able to prepare such a detailed document in such a short time.”

–I couldn’t bear any more.

“You’ve done well. All we need to do now is send this off to the Broilerhouse.”

–Send it off?

Balot was terrified. As if it had only just occurred to her that this was what they were going to have to do.

–We’re going to show this to people? This? The truth about my past?

“We are.”

The documents were suddenly collated now, turned into data ready to mail. Oeufcoque’s actions.

Balot’s whole body stiffened. She couldn’t take her eyes off the monitor. Just as you can’t take your eyes away from a sharp knife flashing in front of your eyes.

But the data wasn’t being sent. Oeufcoque was silently waiting for Balot. Balot hadn’t yet said either yes or no.

“Balot?”

–Just wait a minute. Please. Try and understand me.

Her stomach clenched. She wished there was something that could squeeze her tighter. Without it she would blow away like a fine powder, she thought.

“Balot. How about looking at it like this,” Oeufcoque said cautiously. “This is just like excavating fossils. A number of skeletons are going to emerge, one by one. But as you know, they’re all long since dead. However fierce they used to be, now they are sleeping soundly as fossils.”

–Do you really want to hurt me so badly?

Balot lowered her eyes and gritted her teeth. Oeufcoque continued on, politely as ever. “You’re living in the present, not back in the primeval era of the dinosaurs. The things that used to live are real only insofar as they used to exist. But right here, right now, you are the one who’s really alive.”

–Can you wait? Just a little longer.

“Of course, you could even delete these documents if you wanted. If that was the best way for you to deal with your fossils.”

She realized that Oeufcoque meant it. Even though there would be serious repercussions.

But Oeufcoque cared more about Balot’s feelings, right to the end.

If I said no, this person wouldn’t make me do it. She could believe this fact.

The very fact that she could believe it took a great weight off her shoulders. The conviction that you would never be betrayed—if only there was more of this, the world would no longer need its drugs or guns.

Balot took a slow breath. She straightened her back and looked at the monitor as if to accept that she was now about to die. Balot’s surroundings started to disappear from her consciousness. Soon everything was gone, and all that remained was herself and the rotten egg of her past—her josh—that floated on the monitor before her eyes. As a result she didn’t even notice the presence of the waiter who passed beside her.

For some time now the youth had been wandering back and forth from her table. Like a bellhop angling for a tip. Balot snarced the monitor right in front of his eyes without lifting a finger.

Just then she realized the waiter was looking at her and raised her head, taken aback.

The waiter was marveling at Balot. Not so much because he’d been peeking at her private documents, but simply at Balot’s abilities. And then he quickly thought that she must be using some newfangled electronic device, and moved away, having convinced himself.

Balot averted her eyes. Like she was coldly pushing him away. She checked the monitor. She saw the symbol that confirmed the documents had been safely transmitted.