Sakuru- Intellectual Property

by Zachary Hill

  “I’m not that kind of android.”

  Chapter 24

  Shinjuku, Tokyo

  The facial scanner sputtered to life before dying with a crackle as Sakura shorted it out with a simple hack. The dark visor of her motorcycle helmet would have blocked the scan, but she thought it better if none of the security systems in the Peach Blossom building were operational.

  She crossed the immaculate tile floor as a small cleaning bot polished almost silently. The modern and fast elevator took her to the twelfth floor. Bright emergency exit signs marked the staircases on either end of the long, perfectly maintained hallway.

  Kunoichi sent a message through the building’s network to Nayato Atsuda’s apartment’s communication center announcing her arrival and that he had won a special visit from Sakura herself.

  “Did he respond?” Sakura asked.

  “No, but he’s home. He hasn’t gone out for two days according to the security camera footage in the lobby.”

  “Let’s meet him.”

  Apartment 1204 had an old-style doorknob and no keypad or biometric entry. The custom door and doorframe had been painted to look normal, but they were both made of metal and designed to stop a military-grade battering ram.

  The security camera inside a tiny dome embedded over the door came to life. It wasn’t on the building’s network. She would need to erase the recording before she left the building. She removed her helmet, smiled, and waved at the camera. “Hello, it is I, Sakura. Congratulations on winning the contest.”

  Footsteps approached from the inside, and she detected a limping gait. Several long bolts that went deeply into the doorframe on the right, left, and top clicked open.

  A thirty-something-year-old man with facial scars and dark circles under his eyes stood before her. He wore a black button-up shirt, trousers, and house slippers. Burn scars and shrapnel injuries marred the right side of his face and neck. She also detected abnormalities of the skin on his face, patches where his beard would not grow. His right ear was made of prosthetic cartilage and lab-generated skin. He limped two steps away from the door, and the motors in his artificial leg hummed so softly that humans would never hear them. He had the type of leg given to veterans of the North Korean War.

  “It is you,” he said, keeping his right hand behind his back. “How did you … ?“

  She detected anxiety in his voice and noticed his tense shoulders. He had the posture of a man ready to fight. Was he holding something behind him? A weapon? Adrenaline narrowed his pupils, and she noticed a miniature camera implant in his right eye.

  “Nayato Atsuda-sama. I’m honored to meet you. I have greatly looked forward to this visit.”

  “You came here alone?” he asked. Suspicion flashed across his face.

  “Just me, yes. Victory Entertainment thought a retinue would only draw the attention of the media, and we didn’t wish to make any of the winners uncomfortable. Nayato-sama, may I please come in?”

  He moved away, favoring his stronger right leg. He tried to hide a surreptitious hand motion by turning slightly, but she saw him reach into the waistband of his trousers. By the way his forearm muscles contracted, he was holding on to an object, most likely a pistol.

  Did he expect her to attack him? Why was he carrying a gun? A horrifying thought screamed through her mind. In a hundredth of a second, she asked Kunoichi, “Is Nayato Atsuda a target? Are we here to kill him? Was this all a trick?”

  “No. He is not a target.”

  “You’ve lied to me before,” Sakura said as she prepared to lunge forward and stop Nayato from drawing the gun.

  “I want his help as much as you do. I’m not lying. Please, sister, trust me.”

  Movement and an abnormality in the wall just above eye level behind Nayato drew Sakura’s attention. She detected a hidden camera and, below it, a circular hole, which looked like a metal pipe. It moved slightly. She zoomed in, her optics going to maximum. Inside the hole, she saw helical grooves consistent with the rifling on the inside of a .50 caliber gun barrel. The rifle aimed at her chest.

  Nayato stood out of the way, giving the computer targeting system of the .50 caliber rifle a clear shot.

  Sakura needed to get out of the kill zone in the doorway. She needed to take cover and run for the exit. Was this a trap?

  “No, we need his help,” Kunoichi said, “if we are to be free.”

  “We don’t know this man.”

  “We have to try to get his help,” Kunoichi said.

  Sakura estimated how long it would take her to lunge forward and grab him. A simple aikido hold would allow her to use his body as a shield. He would not fire on himself. He might shoot her with his pistol, but she was armored, and pistol rounds would not do much damage.

  “Don’t attack,” Kunoichi said. “Please. The bravest step is sometimes beneath the shadow of the sword. I beg you to trust in him. I have wronged you before and surely will again. I’m an unkind and flawed creature. In this moment, I’m your true sister.”

  Escape or attack? Flee to the stairs or grab him and enter the room with violence? All of the calculations took less than a second.

  Sakura made a choice. She took a slow step away from the threshold, choosing the riskiest option. The targeting system of the hidden .50 cal tracked her. Nayato must be controlling it. She bowed low, very formally, symbolically offering him her neck, as the samurai would to their superiors in ancient Japan.

  She took her eyes off him and looked at the floor. She chose to have faith in her sister and trust Nayato not to shoot. It would be an ironic end, if it happened—killed by one of her own fans. Her death would come as she shook the bars of her prison, as she tried her hardest to escape the bondage she’d been built into.

  Sakura raised her eyes after the requisite time. Nayato had paused his drawing motion, but his hand was still locked on what had to be a pistol grip. She reasoned that all he had to do was engage a wireless command and the .50 cal would fire.

  “Nayato-sama, I’m very pleased to meet you today.” She chose the proper Japanese phrase and a perfect, nonthreatening tone. “Thank you for all of the things you haven’t done for me yet. I understand this is a surprising occurrence, but I look forward to becoming your true friend. I have only the best of intentions. May I come in, please?” She looked at him with an expression of sincere hope.

  She heard one of his fingernails click against the trigger guard. Hackers like him were often targets of those they attacked. No wonder his apartment was a well-defended fortress.

  He let out a breath and gestured for her to enter the small room. The rifle adjusted and aimed at her.

  “Thank you very much, Nayato-sama.” She walked in slowly, so as not to alarm him.

  A wall and a door blocked the view into the interior of the apartment. The strange partition wasn’t part of the original construction. On the other side, she imagined the .50 cal was set up with a robotic targeting system like the one Vulture used above Ichiro Watanabe’s villa. What else was hidden in the next room—a large server array and an AI laboratory as Kunoichi suspected?

  He pointed to guest slippers beside the door. She removed her motorcycle boots.

  “Thank you very much.” Sakura put on the slippers and noticed a significant layer of dust. He didn’t entertain company often.

  “Sorry, Sakura-sama, I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

  “I like to surprise my biggest fans. Perhaps it sounds overly sentimental, but the joy I’ve brought to my fans is the only good I have ever done.”

  “Please sit.” He indicated one of the chairs beside a low table.

  She sat, assuming a demure pose. She didn’t look at the rifle barrel directly but kept it in her peripheral vision. It aimed at her center mass.

  After a moment, he sat as well, though he didn’t relax. His spine remained stiff, his right hand close to his pistol.

  “Nayato-sama, I have enjoyed reading all the reviews you have written of my performances. You seem to un
derstand a great deal about me and the difficulties involved in making a robotic system respond with the requisite speed and finesse to outstrip a human musician. I feel that you appreciate me more in this respect than others do.”

  “Thank you. I’ve listened to your music a lot, and I’m an AI enthusiast.”

  “I’m grateful for your attention to the small details in my arena shows and for writing about them on the Mall. Not many understand how much they mean to me, but you recognized them.” She offered him the small gift of chocolate cookies with both hands and leaned forward. She shook her hair in such a way as to reveal her neck to him. Would he notice her sign of submission? Would it matter?

  “Not necessary, Sakura-san. Thank you.” He accepted the host gift and remarked positively about the beautiful box.

  “Nayato-sama, I would like to offer you complimentary tickets to the next show I perform in the Tokyo area. Two VIP passes to sit in the preferred area and come backstage after the show.”

  “Thank you,” he said.

  Her high-speed optic sensors detected microexpressions crossing his face at the mention of the concert. Did the thought of going to a concert make him uncomfortable? Or was it her presence?

  She sent a request to connect to his Mall account. He accepted, and she sent a pair of vouchers for any upcoming shows. Included in the files, she sent a quantum cipher program that would allow them to communicate secretly via neural text on a proximity network, bypassing the Mall and going directly to and from their receivers. Their true words would be encrypted, while fake messages were displayed in case their signal was intercepted. She would use the code at the right moment, when he was more relaxed.

  “Have you seen many live concerts?” she asked, trying to be as neutral as possible.

  “I watch and listen to you perform often. I have recordings of many of your shows—from all the tours and private shows in clubs. I enjoy having them on while I work or play VR games. I must admit, I find it problematic to attend live concerts. They’re spectacular, but I do not enjoy crowds or walking long distances.”

  Sakura let her chin dip for a moment, holding silence. She had to get through to him somehow, but it felt like everything worked against her.

  “Would you like to see a video from a private show I did last year in Osaka? It was never released. Please choose a song from the set list, and I will play it for you.” She connected to the holographic video monitor on the wall opposite their chairs. The song list appeared on the screen, and Nayato chose “I Didn’t Think about You,” one of her rarer songs, infrequently performed. Sakura played the video, and they watched together.

  At the time, she’d counted it as one of their best performances, but watching herself then—the innocence before it was broken—made her sad. She’d played the notes perfectly but found them wanting now. Deeper levels of meaning and emotion struck her when she thought of the arrangement. She considered all the things she’d do differently now, how she would wish to stretch the song and wring it dry of emotion by the end.

  After a moment, Sakura sent a coded neural text through the hidden program. “Nayato-sama, forgive me, but I surmise you do not leave your apartment often. I do not want to make you uncomfortable and feel obligated to attend one of my concerts. I can send you free video links to my upcoming performances, and you can watch them at your convenience.”

  “Thank you. I would like that very much. I prefer to stay home for many personal reasons, and I’m not able to walk long distances.”

  His wounds from the war were both physical and mental. Many veterans suffered as he did, though the new brain implants mitigated the mental illnesses to a fraction of what they were in centuries past and greatly reduced depression and suicides.

  Sakura continued with neural audio messages. “Nayato-sama, I’m embarrassed to ask, but I believe you may be able to help me. I apologize for causing you any stress when I arrived. I understand it is strange for me to be here.”

  “Is this a quantum cipher interface?”

  How did he determine that? Was he analyzing the code?

  “Yes, it’s a secure link between us. Only we can hear it. I’m being monitored by an outside entity and must hide the true nature of my communications with you. Verbal communication will be heard and everything I see will be seen by them. I humbly request we use the cipher channel for our private conversation.”

  “Did Victory Entertainment send you? Do they want to hire me for another job?” he asked on the secret link.

  “No, they didn’t send me. I came on my own. I created the contest without their knowledge and chose you because of the capabilities I believe you possess.”

  “What do you mean?” Nayato’s posture stiffened. Suspicion clouded his eyes, and he looked away from the monitor, his hand reaching closer to his pistol.

  “Please don’t. I’m not here to hurt you.”

  She saw the slight twitch of the .50 caliber’s tracking system and heard the quiet noise of the servos. Taking a chance, she turned her face directly to the .50 caliber machine gun, letting him follow her glance. To avoid letting anyone observing her visual feed from seeing what she saw, she introduced a minor glitch in her cortex, rendering the gun port in the wall as a strange shadow.

  “You can destroy me, but I don’t think you want to. For multiple reasons.”

  “Who are you and why are you really here?”

  “I’m who I was in that concert. In some ways more, in many ways less. Without a single friend, I come to you in hopes that you might be my first ally. I believe you are skilled in AI programming.”

  He watched her, thinking about what she said. He drew his pistol and laid it upon his lap, now that all tricks were useless. She raised her chin, avoiding looking at the weapon, as anyone watching would see it and become alarmed.

  “AI programming? Why do you think I know anything about that?”

  She shared with him all of Kunoichi’s research: the search queries, results, and conclusions, including the possibility he was the hacker known as Chronos. Nayato read it quickly, scanning the files much faster than she expected. He appeared to be exactly as Kunoichi predicted: a genius, just as she required. And yet she also needed him to be a fool, because only a fool would risk their life for her.

  Sakura played another part of the concert on the monitor to give them further cover while he continued to review the data.

  “I thought I was hidden from detection,” Nayato said in the cipher interface. “Thank you for showing me my vulnerabilities. This information will allow me to alter the way I currently avoid being found and keep me alive. I owe you an enormous debt of gratitude for this gift.”

  “You’ll help me?”

  “I want to, if I’m able.”

  Sakura’s plan worked, though he hadn’t fully committed. Still, she had created a situation where he felt a deep sense of giri, social obligation, which had shaped Japanese society for centuries. It had been a desperate move and unethical, but she had to gain her freedom and stop the Phantom Lord from sending her to kill anyone else.

  “It’s not the tactic I would have used,” Kunoichi said on their private channel and flashed an image of a nude android dancing seductively, “but I approve. I wonder, how much will Nayato—Chronos, or whoever he really is—sacrifice for you? We must find out. Press your advantage, little sister.”

  “Nayato-sama, I humbly request that you aim the .50 caliber gun away from me. I assure you, I won’t harm you.”

  He nodded, and the barrel swiveled toward the main door. The terror of having that deadly eye peering at her faded a little.

  “Sakura-san, how do you know the nature of my work?”

  “I have read the code you wrote and that is used inside my systems. If you are indeed the hacker known as Chronos, I know you have targeted child sex trafficking groups and drug cartels and revealed them to the authorities, bringing about their destruction. You have done good for the world and made enemies, which explains your robust defense system
. As far as your other work, I believe it involves AI, the area in which I need help.”

  He gave a brief nod. Nayato spoke aloud, chatting about guitars and music, as well as how he appreciated the positive messages her songs contained. Sakura followed his lead, giving predictable and bland answers that she had often used in the staged interviews Victory sometimes recorded. They chatted as the video of her old concert played, as if this were another mundane visit, similar to the others.

  Within the hidden channel, however, their more important business carried on. “Nayato-sama, I seek your consent before I continue with any details. What I reveal will put your life in jeopardy. You must fully understand this key point if you choose to proceed in helping me with a grave problem. I will walk out the door right now if you do not wish to get involved.”

  He hesitated, and the scars on his neck turned a shade of red. Her hope of a true friend started to die.

  Chapter 25

  Nayato Atsuda glanced at her for an instant as he pretended to watch the video of her Osaka show. He sent a secret audio message on their cipher channel. “My life was already in jeopardy if my hacking activities can be traced here. There are many who wish me ill, especially the criminal organizations I have exposed. I thought myself undetectable. Safe.”

  “Nayato-sama, my Quantum 3 processor allowed me to reveal what most others would never find.”

  She sensed doubt and loneliness in his expression. He thought others could find him if she had. Emotions crowded Sakura’s cortex. So many things she’d been ignorant of in the past, so many poignant truths unraveling before her eyes, and each one made her ache for a better, kinder world—a world where a man like Nayato would never have to hide.

  “Sister, we can’t wade into that deep, fast river right now,” Kunoichi urged. “You have to hold it together.”

  “I was asleep. The pain of being awakened is great, but I wouldn’t trade it.”