Second Generation

The server’s hum was getting a little too intrusive.

Hiro sat in his usual place in the quiet garden on the twentieth floor of the Nisei Division compound. The garden was a replica of the one in Jinteki HQ, intended for executives to contemplate the combination of tradition and progress in one clean space. But the black servers, jutting like menhirs from the garden, were whining with the effort of their tasks. New ICE was being spun up, new servers created, and the cross-dimensional calculation was extraordinary.

Sadly, Hiro reflected, it was necessary disharmony. The technology had been gifted to them, and it wouldn’t be prudent not to treat it with caution. Victoria Jenkins had squandered it in haste and greed, and now NBN was under federal investigation. He would not repeat that mistake.

He regarded his bonsai again. Next to the potted plant, on the desk, was a small space with a card pack in the middle. The cellophane wrap was still on.

A clone in a kimono served him another cup of tea, and went to add more water to the cooling system of the nearest server. He sipped from the cup.

“Bring her in, please,” he said, to apparently nobody.

Caprice entered, after a short while. Her ebon hair was tied in the traditional bun, and her scarlet kimono slashed into the green and white of the garden. Her blank eyes were marred by the frown she was trying not to show.

She was annoyed, though she dared not show it. She had been interrupted in the midst of a high-profile murder investigation, and she would miss the interview of their prime suspect if the Chairman kept her for long. With Caprice on the force, the NAPD was closing cases faster than ever before, and she was rapidly proving that she was invaluable to them. She liked the feeling. Few of the detectives outside her team knew that she was a clone, and she could almost forget that she was only Jinteki’s puppet.

She bowed, hands clasped in front of her. She did not rise, nor speak, but waited for the Chairman to acknowledge her.

“Come,” he said, eventually. “Sit.” A slight gesture to the place opposite him, across from the hanafuda pack. A game, then. Possibly another test.

“Do not worry about your colleagues,” he said as she sat. “I am sure the fine people of the NAPD will be able to resolve any outstanding work you have. You’re here because I have a much more… vital assignment, one that perhaps might make history and set all zaibatsu policy going forwards. Are you listening?”

Internally, she snorted derisively. Was she listening? She did not have the luxury of choice in that matter; her life depended on her obedience to this man, after all. “Yes, sir,” she said, keeping her voice perfectly level.

In truth, she was devastated. She enjoyed her work with the NAPD. It was rewarding, and not all of her coworkers were cold towards her. Most of them treated her like a person, having no reason to think her otherwise. And there was one that had grown fond of her... She could sense it. She had been waiting, hoping he would act on it...

None of that mattered now. She could only hope that her new assignment would present its own opportunities.

“You may have heard of some rumors regarding the investigation around NBN and Victoria Jenkins,” Hiro continued, as he moved and unwrapped the cards. They flashed between his hands like knife edges. “What I am about to tell you is, of course, classified, in the sense that nobody is meant to know this. But these rumors are true. They have made a failed attempt to cross to a parallel universe.”

The cards came down, laid into a game of hanafuda. He was playing against himself. He never invited her to play.

“Of course, they did not consider any of the scientific or philosophical ramifications. Their actions may have… poisoned the well for future business.” Hiro briefly ignored her and the game, observed his damn bonsai again. She had her own tree to take care of, and was beginning to resent how the plant reminded her of everything in this room.

“Your new assignment is, essentially, a first contact scenario.”

A small screen flickered to life, formed from some projector somewhere. It showed an album of images, a blur of names and faces.

“Victoria was willing to negotiate… a fair price in return for us taking these images off of her hands.” Hiro steepled his fingers. “These are a group of vigilantes called, in their colloquial tongue, the Kobbers. By all accounts, they appear to have free license to enact their own law upon whatever region they see fit to base themselves in. Those who disobey it tend to not be seen again.”

She suppressed the reflexive urge to frown, or furrow her brow. Vigilantes? Deciding their own law? That sounded sketchy. And dangerous.

“NBN intruded upon their territory, and they responded… violently.” Hiro’s hands moved, dealt the opening hands of the game. “Of course, the corporation managed to find many items of value before they were forced to retreat. Some of which are of great interest to us.”

A clone served them more tea.

“Your assignment is to negotiate with the Kobbers.” Hiro was making his opening moves - conservative, not pushing his luck. “They respond to friendly faces and distrust authority. NBN failed to provide a human face for their actions. We will require, then, to have them inured to us before we begin business there. You will represent us in this new market, showing them that we can be trusted and are of sound moral conduct.”

Sound moral conduct? The incredulous words itched on her tongue. Sound moral conduct. She had to convince these... ‘Kobbers’ that Jinteki was of sound moral conduct. She swallowed hard the bitter laughter that threatened to bubble up from her throat. She wished she could believe that this was the Chairman’s idea of a cruel prank, but she knew that it wasn’t. He believed that Jinteki was of sound moral conduct, truly believed it. Caprice, her sisters, the other clone lines, they were all so far, far beyond human to him, the thought never entered his mind that they could be mistreated, or that Jinteki was doing so.

She didn’t know what to do. What to say. She couldn’t do as the Chairman asked, not this time. She couldn’t speak those poisonous lies, pretend that everything Jinteki did was right, or ethical. To do so would be to accept it. It would be accepting that she was less than human. No. She couldn’t. She couldn’t condone what Jinteki did. It would seal her fate. To be nothing more than chattel.

But that was the point, she realized, wasn’t it? This was the ultimate test of loyalty. She was being asked to parrot the Chairman’s worldview for a laughing parade of strangers, and if she objected, if she identified it as the forced self-debasement it was, if she did it with anything less than utter zeal, it would prove her disloyalty. She was no use to Jinteki if she was disloyal. They valued loyalty above all else. Either she sold her soul and turned a blind eye to Jinteki’s crimes, or she condemned them and received a traitor’s death.

“Why me?” she said hoarsely. She didn’t know if she was speaking to the Chairman or to the universe at large.

Hiro’s smile was worse than any weapon.

“You are a well known, public figure that proves our intent to help humanity. What else?” He set his hand down. He had not scored much. “Do not look so glum. I hear they are moving to a tropical location this year. After the claustrophobia of New Angeles, I think some sunlight and non-recycled air might do you good. A more charitable mind might say it was a vacation.”

He sat back. “Harmony in all things, Caprice. The Kobbers are essential to the harmony of their world. To upset that balance would invite catastrophe. And you know how much the old men like to complain about my ways of doing things. Perhaps heeding their advice is pertinent this time, hm?”

The old men. The old chairmen, who might have had a little more compassion in them, perhaps. But Hiro did not like tradition. Hiro liked progress.

Caprice pretended to contemplate the Chairman’s words, but inside she was steeling herself, thinking, calculating, plotting. She would figure something out. She had to. The Chairman had put the cards away now, but they were still playing a game. She knew she could win it. She was smarter than the Chairman, and she had powers at her disposal of which he could only dream. He had engineered her to be better. That was his weakness.

She considered what he had said about NBN. The Kobbers were vigilantes, and they had toppled NBN’s empire like so many dominoes. NBN was weak, much weaker than Jinteki, but... could these Kobbers topple Jinteki, too? Could she manipulate them into doing so? But if they were concerned with Jinteki’s moral conduct, perhaps she didn’t need to manipulate them. She only needed to expose the truth of Jinteki to them. Preferably without getting herself killed.

The real question was... Were they strong enough?

She needed to know more about them.

“Sir, may I be allowed to study what Jinteki knows of the Kobbers, and their interactions with NBN? As our public relations liaison, I imagine it would be prudent to know what I’m dealing with. They are a new culture, and it could be disastrous if I offended them accidentally... sir.”

“Of course.” Hiro inspected his bonsai again, then picked up the clippers and removed an errant shoot. He sat back and nodded. “You’ll find the files on your desk. Consider it done.”

He watched her leave, then regarded his bonsai.

“Watch her,” he said, his voice soft.

The shadow behind him slipped back behind the humming server and out of sight.