After she was cured, the woman despaired of returning to Hollywood, appealed to the Foreign Ministry without success, and was finally confined to her bed with hysteria. Long story short, she had been bewitched by Doctor Mephisto as well.
Sayaka didn’t realize it herself, but within the fever gripping her thoughts, an eerie essence she was quite unfamiliar with coolly entwined its brilliant threads about her. This was that unapproachable secret that set women’s hearts on fire, that kept them at arm’s length while drawing them like moths to the flame to the handsome doctor.
Since coming to work in Shinjuku, Sayaka had heard rumors aplenty about Doctor Mephisto. They had met on several occasions since the previous incident. He was not a bad man—in the conventional meaning of being driven by or to evil ends.
Which was why patients at death’s door sought him out day and night.
However, the conventional meaning of good could definitely not be attached to him either. Loan sharks who showed up at the hospital to extract their pound of flesh from his patients were summarily ejected. If it didn’t end there, they’d be dragged down to the autopsy room and cut to pieces to provide the parts to heal the proper patients.
Needless to say, such terrors had a profoundly deterrent effect. At the same time, considering the rapacious thugs such “treatments” were reserved for, it was hard not to smile and be grateful.
Mephisto was the one who had brought her to this palace. In the evening three days before, having vanquished the monster Ogdora, a woman’s voice had called out behind them.
When they’d turned around, standing there was the beautiful woman who’d sent a chill through Sayaka’s heart in the coffee shop near Kawadacho Philanthropic Hospital.
“What do you want?” Mephisto asked.
“The magician who destroyed even Ogdora—would he wish to try his hand at unraveling one of the spirit world’s great mysteries?”
“What would that be?” Mephisto asked, taking up a protective stance next to Sayaka.
The woman then made the startling declaration that she was Semiramis. The conversation lasted no more than a minute, and concluded with her stating, “If that is your desire, then on to the palace.”
All the more surprising was Mephisto’s reaction. “Well, how about it?” he said. “True, caution might seem the better part of valor here. Logic dictates that the lamb escaping the jaws of the wolf should not seek shelter in the lion’s den. Say the word and I shall gladly escort you home. Should we end up in the lair of a demon god, not only shall I, Doctor Mephisto, be there with you, but I swear that not one finger shall bruise your fair skin. And should the time come, I will take you to safe ground. Moreover, the way I see it, as with Demon City the fate of this palace is aligned with cosmic forces. You hold the key to unlocking it. What do you say? Shall we enjoy a relaxing stroll around?”
His low measured voice, like a lullaby, left her betwixt and between. The lack of compulsion in and of itself was compelling. And they’d hardly be taking a relaxing stroll around the palace’s mysterious precincts.
And yet, Sayaka’s heart said yes. She’d hardly hesitated a moment. Hidden within the apparent irresponsibility of Mephisto’s proposition was a fount of scientific intrigue that anyone other than her would probably have missed. She was beginning to grasp as well that he had correctly identified her as the key to the whole affair.
The only solution was to go. Whatever was waiting for her—whatever awful fate awaited her there—she would put a stop to the weirdness. With Doctor Mephisto along with her, what could go wrong?
Besides—the face of the jaunty young man rose up in her thoughts like a spring light — Kyoya would definitely come for her.
And so with Semiramis leading the way, the two of them ascended to the floating castle that was Demon Palace Babylon.
Three days had passed since.
In terms of hospitality, they lacked for nothing. Semiramis disappeared at some point. Android maids and an android butler had escorted them to their rooms and waited upon them hand and foot.
The lord of the manor was occupied with a pressing matter and wouldn’t be free for three days. Once the opportunity presented itself, he would explicate the mysteries that concerned them. In the meantime, they were to wait here and enjoy themselves to the fullest.
So Sayaka and Mephisto set off to explore the great palace. After three days, they had a very good idea of its construction.
With the exception of the critical power and control rooms and the lord’s personal suite, the android butler promised that they could go wherever their feet might take them. The android proved good to its word.
The end result was that they understood that while this floating castle did not, from outward appearances, measure up to the immensity of the grand palaces of old, it really did integrate warped space into its construction on a scale that exceeded any in existence.
What the contemporary state of spatial physics and geometry had only begun to hesitatingly prototype, Babylon Palace had put to practical use in amazing ways, such as extending straight lines and expanding three dimensional space almost indefinitely.
In concrete terms, a cube of a specific volume could, disregarding the finite dimensions of its walls, contain an infinite amount of space.
The wondrous utopias that wizards in ancient China purportedly created in small flasks—filled with seas and mountains and tens of thousands of people leading splendiferous lives—these “universes in a bottle” had now been turned into fact through the miracle of science.
Even with all of the powers of the mysterious manor lord, there must be limits to how far he could warp space. The endless halls had an end, after all. The size of Babylon Palace itself spoke to the limits of technology.
On one occasion during her strolls about the palace, Sayaka experienced a physical manifestation of these spatial manipulations.
Attempting to turn down a certain hallway, a large hand the size of three men blocked the way. The fingers were as big as herself. At a glance, they appeared to be stone. Except that they bent as if human.
Sayaka jumped back in surprise. The concourse she was walking down was wide enough to accommodate three trucks driving abreast. The passageway from which the hand emerged could have barely handled two people. There was no way the owner of the hand could fit in such a space. Assuming correct proportions, the rest of him should be at least twenty-five feet tall.
The hand did nothing else, so Sayaka assumed it was simply a device to indicate the end of the line. So she turned around, and had gone down several more corridors when she suddenly found herself in a hallway with a fairly low ceiling, no more than ten feet high.
A foot abruptly descended in front of her. She understood at once that it was a partner to the hand. She looked up. A leg, from knee to thigh, protruded from the ceiling, showing roughly the same muscular definition as the human equivalent.
No gap appeared where it intersected with the ceiling. The dimension that housed the big foot and this section of the ceiling must bend into a fourth dimension that connected them.
She had no choice but to retreat again and go down a different hallway. When a part of the big body didn’t appear, she began to suspect she was being toyed with.
“Doctor Mephisto!” Sayaka called out.
The beautiful countenance, eyes closed, turned to her like a zephyr. She sensed a mystical aroma wafting through the air, but it must be only her imagination.
“It’s been three days. The masked lord is supposed to show up today.”
Mephisto said bluntly, “It depends on him.”
“But spending all this time doing nothing—”
“It has been quite the thrilling adventure.”
“Huh?”
“Wherever we go, we are being closely watched. Living eyes, electronic eyes—I haven’t had the time to settle down and rest.”
Sayaka had to wonder when this man ever settled down and slept. That was when she saw a reflection in t
he corner of his eyes. From the corridor leading to the living room, a man in a long robe elegantly made his entrance.
The mask.
“Speak of the devil,” Doctor Mephisto said.
Having appeared at long last, the mask bowed reverentially. “Welcome to my humble abode. I was the one who invited you, so please forgive my long absence.”
“Think nothing of it,” Mephisto answered with a smile. “You’ve kept the promise made when we arrived and this is reward enough.”
“Naturally.” The mask nodded. “The preparations took three days. I presumed the famous Doctor Mephisto would be satisfied with the arrangements. Please. This way.”
In the direction of his outstretched hand, a door opened that hadn’t been there a moment before. The mask led the way. No sooner had they all passed through the door but the floor dropped out from beneath them.
Sayaka managed to stifle a scream, first because the descent was measured, and also because as soon as it began, Doctor Mephisto steadied her shoulders. The touch of his hands through her blouse was cool and firm.
“Free fall transport. But rather than a gravitational field, the application of spatial dynamics. Impressive technology.”
The words communicated admiration but his tone of voice was cool and aloof.
After descending for a hundred and fifty feet, the three of them came to a stop. A stone-lined corridor reached out before their eyes. Though not as richly adorned as above, the limestone exhibited an exceptional craftsmanship, surrounding them with an understated elegance.
This area was distinctly different from the upper levels, which were clearly designed to impress the guests. Rather, it had about it the grave formality of a ceremonial altar.
As if propelled along by a slight breeze, they came to stand before a great bronze door. The mask reached out with his right arm. It opened silently, without so much as a creak.
The expansive interior met their eyes along with a draft of chill air. There seemed no end to the space. The huge columns vanished into the distance. Here and there among the columns could be glimpsed a ring of evenly spaced candlesticks, casting off a wavering blue light.
Surrounded by the eerie flickering flames was a depression in the floor, bowl-shaped like an earthenware mortar. Water filled it to the brim.
The mask said in a muffled voice, “Step closer. See for yourselves.”
“Doctor?” Sayaka looked up at Mephisto.
“Let’s take a look,” he said.
They walked forward. The water was crystal clear. Something floated there at the bottom of the pool. Sayaka exclaimed, “It’s that woman from before!”
“Yes,” came the mask’s voice from behind them, and sounding very far away. “That is Semiramis, my wife.”
II
“I am familiar with the name of Semiramis,” Doctor Mephisto said, in a voice as solemn and ethereal as the mood of this temple. He could have pronounced himself her husband in the same breath, and no one would have thought it strange.
“However, that is the name of the storied queen of the Babylonian king, she who ruled all of Assyria. For her he built the Hanging Gardens many millennia ago. Ah, and so now the ancient legend appears before us.”
The mask nodded. “It is as you say. Semiramis was that legendary queen, and was my wife. Her body is entombed in the waters of her beloved Euphrates. Even now she slumbers there unblemished.”
“I had heard of an enormous structure constructed in an oasis alongside the Euphrates. It drew water from the river and purified it in order to preserve the cells of a human body from decay. Here are the last vestiges of that water, I suppose.”
“You suppose correctly. Buried beneath two thousand years of sandstorms, even the stone foundations are nowhere to be seen. It is now stored beneath this palace. Here is all the water left in the pool.”
Mephisto looked quietly at the man in the golden mask. “Only one man would call Semiramis his wife and Babylon Palace his home. You are that famous suzerain?”
“I am.” The monarchal mask answered with a dignified bow. “I am Nebuchadnezzar II.”
Sayaka was astounded. This was Nebuchadnezzar II, who twenty-five hundred years ago ruled the Middle Eastern kingdom of Babylonia. That fantastical personage was standing right before her.
“Semiramis reigned over ancient Assyria, which should have been Babylonia’s sworn enemy. That being the case, asserting that the Hanging Gardens were built to assuage the ennui of a princess from a mountain kingdom was a fiction.”
“Worthless sentimentalism,” the mask answered Mephisto. “The queen of the abundant kingdom of Assyria would wish for nothing of the sort. A woman raised in the mountains comes to live in the deserts of Babylon; seeing her pining for the hills and rivers of her birth, the kind-hearted Nebuchadnezzar plants a giant garden in a corner of the capital brimming with water and greenery. Ha! Do you think in a world full of heroes, warriors and champions, where kingdoms were brought down and built up in the blink of an eye, that such nonsense would be tolerated for a moment? Nobody knows, then or now, why this great garden was built.”
“Hoh. Then instruct us.” Mephisto’s eyes brimmed with a fierce light, unusual in its intensity even for him.
However, the answer would not be forthcoming.
“All is as Semiramis wished. Her desires then, her dreams now—best to hear them from her mouth.”
He turned to her. Sayaka felt like he’d dropped a cold ball of ice down the back of her collar. The green glow of the electronic lens, infused with a loathing that death could not extinguish, was like the fires of hell.
“The body of Semiramis lies there, but her soul resides in another woman, inside the girl called Sayaka Rama. The cunning of that damned Doctor Faustus, to seal up the queen of hell inside such a heavenly beauty.”
“Hoh,” said Doctor Mephisto. The name of this new doctor had obviously touched a chord, in an altogether intriguing manner. He was enjoying this strange and perilous situation all the more. For he was the Demon Physician. “Sayaka-chan,” he said.
“Yes,” Sayaka said hopefully.
“You said this man showed you a dream. Does it live on in your memories?”
Sayaka blanched and nodded. The terrifying memories had not expunged her courage and resolve.
And to such a woman, the beautiful physician dared to say, “Would you object to reliving them?”
Sayaka’s eyes went wide in silent surprise. She could feel the mask’s consternation as well.
“The restoration of ancient times requires a certain kind of elixir. Formulating it with this medical technology is not easy, and the amount necessary to produce a useful outcome has yet to be confirmed for her.”
“It does exist in my hospital.” Doctor Mephisto’s words seemed to encase this grand temple in ice.
“What are you saying?”
“I completed it before setting out, in order to dispose of the monster known as Ogdora. Well, well. Shall we return not only to the rise and fall of ancient Babylon, but to the moment of her lunar birth as well?”
Flinging back the cape, his white hand produced a small vial. What struck Sayaka more than that though, was the smile that creased the lips of the Demon Physician. The evil smile that captivated a scholar of the Middle Ages must have appeared no different than now.
The handsome man of great learning who brought the gospel of life to so many in that enchanted city—and on this endless and eerie sacred ground, the mysterious doctor commanding that memories of terror and horror return to this sinless girl. Was Doctor Mephisto a child of god or servant of the devil?
He thrust the vial out in front of Sayaka. “Will you partake?”
His voice was as cool and soft and terrifying as ever. Sayaka took the vial of dark green liquid. She wasn’t responding unmindfully to Mephisto’s desires. She understood that they had to get to the heart of the matter here and now.
After the memory restoration treatment at the World Federation Governm
ent Information Bureau, Chief Yamashina had told her that the procedure failed. When she asked, Kyoya said the same thing.
It was a lie. Chief Yamashina and Kyoya couldn’t fool her. She was beset by the worry that what she couldn’t tell herself had been rekindled inside of her. That must have been why Chief Yamashina dispatched the bodyguards.
Along with what the woman in the coffee shop said—I have been with you always—what did that mean? An infinite state of unease reached out to her from a bottomless pit and wrapped around her like a spider’s web. She wished to sweep it all into the clean light of day, and so agreed to take the drug.
“Doctor,” she said firmly.
“Yes?” Mephisto said, leaning forward slightly. This was the Mephisto the patients in his hospital knew. The calm smiling countenance that even those suffering from the most severe of mental disorders would, very much despite themselves, react to with their own expressions of calm and relief.
Those same reassuring currents filled her own heart. “Um, nothing.” She shook her head. She wanted to ask whether he knew about the relationship between her and that woman, or if he was just keeping quiet about it.
But it didn’t much matter at this point. To this doctor, human doubt and worry was a world away.
Sayaka opened the lid of the vial and drank down its contents.
At the same time, Chief Dai Yamashina of the World Federation Government Information Bureau, Japan section, received—with a raised eyebrow—an unannounced, undisclosed visit from the mayor of Shinjuku and the assistant energy comptroller.
They met in a conference room reserved for such occasions. On the table between them was a holographic display of the materials the visitors from Shinjuku had brought with them.
“I am familiar with the data,” said the Section Chief, hiding his qualms with a smile. “What shall we do about it?”
“Let’s not play dumb,” the mayor said impatiently, thumping a big fist on the table, making the holographic waver.
The assistant comptroller jumped to his feet. “You may only be a chief in the World Federation Government Information Bureau, but you have been nominated for the top post in the past. There’s no way you wouldn’t know what this data means at a glance!”
Demon City Shinjuku: The Complete Edition Page 29
