Kazin

Black mist. Blindness everywhere. Crashing lightning, streaks of blue and purple and black breaking fissures into my thoughts, rendering any processes of the mind useless.

It is the best way I can describe my current state.

I know that Dad is dead, and yet here he is, in the present, beside me behind our forest cabin, shooting at targets in the forest clearing. How is that possible?

Dad goes on a business trip again, and I ask him not to leave. I hate it whenever he leaves. Mom becomes angry and refuses to speak with him whenever he is called away on these trips. He always comes back, however, and she stills stays angry at him for days after. I don’t understand. He has returned; isn’t that all that matters?

One day, after a particularly long business trip, he returns in a bedraggled state, his eyes hollow and dead. Even Mom is unable to get angry with him this time. He never goes on another trip again.

Sometimes I have memories of me, myself, standing atop a tall tower—the city sprawled below me, a mansion rising above me. Here, I cringe at the sound of approaching footsteps. A father’s reprimanding tirades cause me to cower in a corner. Here, I am less than a man, not even a boy, just another thing to be stepped upon. Father is an old man now, however, unaware of the flow of technology and the society riding on its coattails. He is antiquated in his thoughts, and he will only drive the family fortunes deeper into ruin, as his father before him did. He thinks too small, and he will pay the price for it.

I will make sure he does.

I will?

With great difficulty I climb my way out of those thoughts. They are so foreign, and yet so real, like memories long forgotten, only triggered by someone else's suggestion.

Whenever I come to my senses, I find myself in a ruined wasteland. The sky is similar in appearance to shattered glass, and the color is of a pink and purple hue. Running down from it are levels of immense spikes, like a jagged maze of thorns. The air around me is dark, and yet it is permeated by a soft glow so that I can see through it.

At times I can see round bots flying across the horizon, scouring the lands for information—scourBots. Here and there, I can see walled fortresses. I try to approach one, but when I draw close, the air around me seems to tighten and extend, and the walled fortress flees from reach and disappears into the distance.

I don’t understand this place.

Just when I am beginning to adjust to my surroundings, I am ripped from them and thrust back into the cycle of living through memories not my own. At times I am able to fight back and wrest this virus under my control, and force it to live through my memories. I can sense its fear and pain then, the horror it is clutched by, the envy which plagues it.

But then, just as my own memories take rein, they disappear. Like a book that has had its pages torn from it, pieces of my life are wrenched from me. There are holes in my memory, and my mind seems fragmented.

And still I fight on, because that is who Dad taught me to be.

But one day, all sense of control is wrenched from my grasp. There are certain things I remember—lights, masked people standing all around me, knives out, cauterizers, laser cutters. Beeping, taking measurements of my vitals—it is not unlike when I was grafted with my bioEnhancements.

Deep in my subconscious, I understand that I am lying on an operating table. And when they finish, when they close my skull and sew my scalp back onto it, it is as if I have lost a part of me—I have relinquished a part of my will, the ability to wholly decide for myself the paths that I can take.

And from then on, the foreign presence in my mind has nearly full control. It is like I am a slave to its will. There is no more fighting back. I am alone in this strange wilderness of broken sky and shattered air. I crawl into a corner crevice nestled between two jagged spokes.

I hug my knees and remain there, staring at the ground, into a distance a million miles away.

*******

Sangsum stood from his seat. He glared at Kazin, lying there, motionless, his head still bearing the signs of recent cauterization following surgery.

“He’s damn strong,” a voice behind Sangsum said as a man took his place beside him.

“You don’t need to tell me,” Sangsum spat.

“Alright man,” Jerim said, holding up his hands in surrender. “Didn’t mean to offend anyone.”

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

Sangsum rubbed at his temples and forehead. “I’m sorry.” Despite his apparent victory over Kazin, it felt more closely to a defeat, as Sangsum was only able to achieve his goal by riddling Kazin’s brain full of chips.

“Did you manage to get the funding together?” Sangsum asked.

“My guy!” Jerim scoffed, pointing both hands towards himself. “Who am I?”

Sangsum had little patience for Jerim’s antics. It was so strange, how Jerim had retained his carefree and juvenile personality even after he had graduated and strode into adulthood, while Sangsum himself had become a shadow of his former self.

“Who am I?” Jerim repeated.

“Jerim Nakigama,” Sangsum said begrudgingly.

“Jerim Nakigama, VP of Nakigama Banking & Co.,” Jerim boasted. “I got your links. Don’t fret yourself. You have enough for your little takeover.”

"You did this all with absolute secrecy?"

"Absolute secrecy?" Jerim said in a mocking tone. "Yes, Sangsum. As you never failed to remind me, a million times over."

Sangsum nodded.

Jerim clicked his tongue, nodding towards Kazin’s limp form. “So, what are you planning to do with him?”

Sangsum did not answer.

Jerim cleared his throat in annoyance. “As your friend who is scraping together seventy billion links for you, I believe I have a right to this knowledge."

Sangsum realized he did not have much of an answer for that. “There are three parts to the mind—emotion to stimuli, sparks of thought which push us to action, and memory. If you control all three of these things, one can control another human being absolutely.”

Jerim chuckled. “You want to play god, with Kazin?”

Sangsum smiled. “Through him, I mean to test whether I can fully control him after obtaining mastery over those three things.”

“Then what?” Jerim asked, lighting himself a cigarette. He asked the question so lightly, much to Sangsum’s chagrin. Did Jerim not realize the implications of such power?

“Did you know Kazin is Norbu Hamada’s nephew?”

“The Yamda guy?” Jerim said in genuine surprise, his eyebrows slowly rising. “No, I didn’t.”

“After I have Kazin assassinate my father, I’ll have him return to the Yamda and murder Norbu to end this senseless Joryoku war. With the Kargu under our belts and the Yamda in shambles, the Shampai Group will rule the city.”

“Then have Kazin take the fall for it all,” Jerim nodded. “Nice.”

“The action will be his alone and his to own,” Sangsum said happily. “Motive, reasons, memories, evidence, everything will be of Kazin’s own doing and will point to him. Everything will fit perfectly—vengeance against my father, Joryoku power struggle. No one will even suspect my involvement, or the existence of this technology. And once this experiment has proven effective and the technology demonstrated as sufficiently viable, I will have the board’s full support.”

“Wonderful,” Jerim said, as uncaring as ever. “Just remember you promised to name me to the board.”

Sangsum rolled his eyes. “Yes. I remember.”

“Awesome.”

“Now then,” Sangsum said, stretching his arms. “Let’s go get some tonkotsu ramen, Jin. Then I’ll have to start again. I don’t have much time until the deadline.”

“That’s not my name, asshole,” Jerim said as he dropped the cigarette stub into a waste bin. “And since when have you liked ramen? That’s cheap shit. Let’s go get us some buttery steak.”

Sangsum stood in a momentary daze as Jerim shouldered out the door.

“…Right.”

*******

After a long time, I finally claw up enough strength and will to stand on my two feet. I am stuck here. I might as well explore for a bit.

I look around me at my broken surroundings. From all my days playing Melcophy, I know that I am in a virtual world.

But this is unlike any virtual world I have ever seen. It is splintered and destroyed, the remnants of a past internet realm.

I trudge my way through the broken ground. scourBots zip overhead, weaving their way through the maze of shattered sky.

Here, the laws of physics do not apply. Sometimes I find myself walking on the walls, at other times I am walking straight into the sky. The broken, walled formations which are always out of reach seem to be nodes of some kind.

At length, I am able to figure out that the entire place is in the shape of a massive honeycomb maze. Many of the paths that once connected the each of them have been broken.

As I continue wandering aimlessly, I realize that I can see something floating high above. I hadn’t realized it before because of the broken nature of the sky. I can see it from some places, but it is obscured from view at other points by fragments of broken space.

“It’s almost like a castle in the sky,” I say to myself.

I begin walking up walls and hopping from fragment to fragment to access the floating fortress. I don’t know how long I have until the pain and darkness will begin again, so I force myself to hurry.

The closer I get, the more it looks like an enclosed, grey sphere. Not a single scourBot passes through the space near it. Finally, I find myself on a last fragment. I push against another fragment just beside it, and propel myself towards the floating orb.

I press my hands against the surface, then my ear. I can’t hear anything.

I inspect it as quickly as I can, anticipating the moment when it will suddenly fly from my reach, as all the other nodes have done until now.

Then, suddenly, I feel a roiling underneath.

The polycarbonate surface begins to thump beneath my fingers, as if someone is punching at it from the inside. It’s as if the orb is hopelessly trying to contain furiously boiling water.

Soon, the entire sphere begins quaking.

I take a step back. I need to get out of here. It is going to explode.

Before I can move, the sphere fragments into a million shards, then freezes mid-motion, still retaining its round form. Through the cracks and crevices, I can make out a man with techSpects standing inside, his face an amalgamation of shock and pain. He is falling to his knees.

Then, from the shattered sphere emerges a familiar face.

A girl with pink hair and a pretty face. For a brief moment, her brazen eyes shimmer green, then red, then black, before returning to its normal shade of soft violet.

“V-vyvani?” I stammer.

Her eyes widen in recognition as she breaks through the screen of fractured pieces. Hurtling through the air towards me, she takes me by the hand as the parts of the broken globe accelerate into a million directions. I can hear the man screaming behind me, and his voice suddenly fades as if dampened by a blanket.

Faster than the speed of light, Vyvani soars through the air, her hand tightly holding mine, leading me into unknown horizons.

To our rear, the sky begins crumpling inwards, and the heavens themselves begin to collapse.