Mardock Scramble

“What? Shell’s planning a suicide pact with the girl?”

“In a sense…that could indeed be the case.”

“What a perfectly crazy bastard. Right—mission aborted—we need some serious psychoanalysis here. Okay, now that we’ve come this far our next step is to pay someone off, get them to turn this footage in to the Broilerhouse. Any charge we can make stick—breaking the protection of minors law, attempted coercion to commit suicide—whatever! Then we take over her case, offer the girl shelter—”

“Won’t work. He’ll rid himself of all ties to her while the investigation’s under way, and you’ve got yourself an unresolved case, never to be closed. That’s one of the things her fake ID will be there for—so that he can cleanse himself of any ties to her in an instant if he needs to.”

“Well, what do we do then? Carry on playing Peeping Tom?”

“Hang on…something strange is happening.” The voice from the goggles was pointed, abrupt. “The man’s odor has changed. As if it’s oozing out. No suicidal tendencies anymore. It’s definite pleasure.”

Right at that moment another AirCar was silently drawing closer from the other side of the park.

≡

“You’ve questioned the status that you were given.” The man murmured while holding the girl. He laughed a sharp, hollow laugh. He stared at the girl, a decision hidden deep in his eyes.

Held by him, the girl just lay there silently. She wondered, through the thin skin that separated her from the outside world, whether it really was such a bad thing to try and work out her own position in life. It must be a very bad thing, surely? Part of the girl became sadder and sadder as she thought about this, but another part—the heart from deep within—looked on, utterly indifferent.

“Good girls don’t break the rules. Nice dolls exist to be obedient little decorations.” The man embraced the girl with both arms as he spoke. He wrapped himself around her tightly. This was different from a gentle embrace. It was like he was clinging, almost as if he were about to be dragged off somewhere but had found something to hold on to in order to stop himself from being pulled away.

“But it’s okay, Balot. It’s okay. It’s tough for me, but it’s tough for you too. It’s tough. I understand. So tough I almost want to die. In fact, I am, practically, going to die. Part of my memory is going to die. But even if it dies away, the shape of it can still remain. Just like a Blue Diamond made from ashes.”

The man thrashed around furiously now, ranting and raving. As if he were delirious with fever. As always at these times the girl remained docile. That was her job, after all, her talent.

Eventually the man stopped moving, slowly peeled himself off the girl, and came out of her. He started dressing himself, and she was about to get up too when the man said in an unexpectedly tender voice, “Stay just the way you are, Balot.”

So the girl lay sprawled in her disheveled state, and all she could do was gaze absentmindedly back at the man as he laughed his thin laugh.

“What a wonderful sight. A beautiful sight. And after this you’re going to turn into something even more beautiful,” the man murmured as he moved farther away from the girl, pressing his back against the car door.

“A Blue Diamond.”

A watery smile, then the man raised his right hand to show off the glittering rings.

“That’s the answer to the question ‘What becomes of children who break the rules,’ Balot.” Speaking these words, the man suddenly opened the door and jumped out of the car.

“Shell…?”

Just as she was hurriedly getting up the door slammed shut with a loud bang right in front of her.

Instinctively she tried to open the door—no go. However hard she tugged at the electric inner handle the door just wouldn’t open. The man turned to look at her. Or so she thought, but then she realized that he was just using the Magic Mirror windows to straighten his clothes and hair and adjust his sunglasses. He wasn’t looking at her at all. The hands pulling at the door handles lost all their strength. She couldn’t even speak. The world was distant, and she was overwhelmed by a terrible premonition.

When the headlights of the other AirCar came into view, the girl immediately understood that everything had come to pass just as the man had planned right from the start.

≡

“Murder! I smell it! The girl’s going to die!”

The goggles’ outburst was shrill.

“Wait, there’s another car! Give me a head count!”

The Doctor pointed the goggles at the other AirCar. Instantly the lenses transformed with a squash, and the body heat sensors turned back into standard night vision lenses.

“I don’t believe it… It’s Boiled,” the Doctor said in a troubled tone. “Look. The man in the driver’s seat—it’s Boiled. To think that he’s now working for Shell! This isn’t good, Oeufcoque. If they’re planning on killing the girl then any rescue attempt by us could backfire. Boiled is the sort that will shoot her first.”