Where did you meet ser Sato?

Through ad-lit streets we followed Sato’s non, a slick black aero waiting to receive us at the edge of a park. The gait of Tsutomu was one that filled me with amusement, his movements theatrical, surveying the surroundings as if the clouds contained preying raptors that would descend on the unwary. He then disassembled the shaft of his spear and we boarded at once, the lights receding behind us as we crossed over the dark still waters of the lagoon once more, towards the far end of the dome.

Within the hills of the peninsula of the Bay District Ser Sato's residence was situated, ya, a spacious villa of traditional architecture amidst meticulously scaped gardens and ponds and bridges, oh the water features were a thing of beauty, streams of water caressing ornaments of stone.

There, a tall, slender woman dressed in a black-and-white kimono and a maroon obi bowed deep and greeted us, her eyes shining with eagerness to receive. Her face was painted a deep yellow and black, but even that failed to veil her charming face. "Welcome to the Sato residence, sers," she spoke, introducing herself as Yuriko and asking if we were well. We bowed in acknowledgment, and inside Yuriko escorted us then.

Something odd became apparent to us then and there. Our auras lost connection to the infosphere, and from then on, we found ourselves unable to communicate with one another. Asked why, Yuriko answered that ser Sato placed great value on his privacy.

There I was, marveling at the vastness of its halls, oh beautiful as they were, with wide, open spaces and the overall impeccable design of structures, ya I dare say there was perfect harmony between the unsoiled modern materials and ancient, traditional minimalistic style and subtle decorative patterns alike. In the main hall, in front of the staircase, there was a lavishly decorated set of powered body armor on display, and admire it we all did, albeit briefly in passing.

Into a side wing we were led, and there we saw two more of ser Sato’s nons stand at attention at a sliding door. The door slid open, and we removed our shoes, lest we drag any dirt inside and smudge what was spotless and clean. Inside, ser Sato awaited in a tea room, seated cross-legged on a cushion, his robes perfectly arranged and his pose upright and stern. He bowed and apologized for not introducing himself properly when we had met earlier that night, oh, and apologize once more he did for disturbing us with the duel. We politely said it was nothing, for what else could we say? We bowed deeply as well, and ser Sato spoke that we were most kind, and then he invited us to sit with him, there on the cushioned floor.

What did you discuss?

Oh, first we drank tea, fragrant yet bitter, ya a good taste of things yet to come. Of course, the necessary courtesies were exchanged, but while proper and civil, we found ser Sato was also a man that wished to get to the point, and so when he found an opening, he asked me what I thought of the world, from what I had seen. Not denying my thoughts, I answered directly and honestly, so I spoke that I felt in great opposition to the abject mistreatment of the disposables, and the open hedonism on display likewise.

He nodded slowly, as if in concurrence to something best left unspoken, but then he shifted and spoke in no uncertain terms his thoughts on the current state of Piscium, and, mostly its populace. To him, what a shameful disgrace it was. He asked us then what we knew of the Shincho people. We were not naive, ya, as convinced we were that ser Sato had looked us up, and found that we had been cast out of the last seventy-thousand years of history.

We spoke to him that the Shincho were but a small yet advanced faction in our time, specializing in information security and software development, and due to the circumstances that prevailed in that age, under constant scrutiny. For suspected of developing unrestrained artificial general intelligence they were, in fierce defiance of the long-standing universal ban that had been enacted against such technology. We had not been surprised that the historical record of this world now freely and openly admitted that they indeed used such technology to settle this world.

Then ser Sato laughed in the face of that which we had spoken, and he added that in days bygone, every insidious corp that held influence of a significant degree had defied the prohibition in full. For thousands of years, the ban that we knew had been merely in place to effectuate a hard limit on the capabilities of those that sought to compete, thus unable to equal the ones that held power the newcomers would forever be. The ban on genetics and cybernetics had sought to accomplish likewise.

The Shincho had not had their wings clipped with these bans, nay, they had sought a way to overcome that which had held them down, gaining influence and awaiting the opportunity to break the rules one at a time, for how else to oppose an oppressor that chose not to play by the rules that they forced others to obey? Nay, ser Sato explained, the Shincho only achieved independence precisely because they did not play by the rules. They had managed to blackmail a great number of Great Family topscalers, and then when confronted, no topscale corp cared to hold them by the rules any longer. Space colonization, ser Sato spoke, would never have been possible without the advanced artificial intelligence the Shincho developed and sold, so in part, they were to praise for humanity reaching the stars at all.

Concurring we did, at least in part, for was it not that we thanked our own lives to the cunning of our shipboard AI? Had that been a dumb box, alike the machines the prohibition allowed, dead we would be, the Dolya our tomb.

Inquiries into ser Sato’s background we attempted to make, for him being a hacker of legend we suspected he was, but all that was returned was an intense stare, while the subject in question sipped his tea with the slow and precise movements we had come to know. “We could discuss this later,” was all that he spoke, and I knew this was alike a polite way of declining to answer, ya his privacy he valued, at least until trust had been earned.

Ser Sato lamented then over the slow decline of his people, once intellectual, proud, and full of dignity, through cunning and aptitude their independence had been won, one step at a time. First amassing the wealth to construct their own orbiting habitat, and then leave Sol behind altogether, a plan that bloomed to fruition over centuries, millennia even. But once they had ventured beyond the reach of forces that would threaten and oppose them, their once-disciplined minds had given way to stagnation, and the pursuit of pleasure as well.

No better example than the social credit system itself, ser Sato then scolded, a system initially developed by the Shincho hacker community, intended to reward those that made outstanding contributions and worked towards long-term goals that would benefit the greater whole. Oh, but once extended to that greater whole, the masses had it subverted, and corrupted to the core it had become, ya, reduced to little more than a popularity contest it had, and as such, it rewarded those that preyed on the masses and exploited parasocial relationships the most, like insidious, fangy vipers devouring the unwary young.

I spoke that I had noticed the disposable companions that every real person here had, then and there he confirmed my suspicions were confirmed at last. Ya, since the Providers had shared their technology with the Shincho, the rot that had festered below ground had spread, for no longer there was any need for normal interaction between ordinary people on this world, nay, with the exception of conflict, jealousy, and envy. The nons a replacement for companionship, friends and spouses were now obsolete, for nons did not carry all of the downsides of having to deal with someone whose thoughts were free like a bird.

Did this revelation bother you?

Bother me, you ask? Of course such would bother me, seeing fundamental human behavior corrupted like that! No, not very healthy and sustainable this society seems, at least not to me.

96 G. Piscium f1’s society has been stable for thousands of years and shows no sign of instability. Contrary to what you claim, the world generally has good reviews. How do you account for this discrepancy?

Tell me then, how can having a planet full of lascivious narcissists be a good thing?

It fulfills the needs of the citizenry and produces vast quantities of data.

So, now you dare speak, the Empire prides itself on being a bulk-manufacturer of depraved smut and…

Please continue your recounting of the events at ser Sato’s residence.

…we politely thanked ser Sato for his earlier help. Shirong commented on the armored suit we had seen at the entrance, and ya, he then asked whether ser Sato was an arena fighter of sorts. Ser Sato apologized for making us listen to his earlier complaints with regards to his people, and spoke we must be tired after our ordeal. We understood what he meant. The conversation had concluded, and so we bowed politely and withdrew.

Yuriko led us away to a garden terrace pleasantly arranged, asking us whether we would care for some light entertainment. We accepted, and so Yuriko clapped. Three of ser Sato’s nons entered the garden, and treated us to a small variety show, with song, dance, and music that rang pleasantly in the auspicious night.

I asked Mei what she thought of ser Sato and the place we were at, and she spoke that she was glad that we had encountered some civilization, after all we had seen. I did concur and spoke that there was more to a world than just one district and one person, ya, entertaining ser EZdoR’s offer might have been a costly mistake indeed. Shirong concurred and spoke of the stark contrast between Ser Sato’s peaceful residence and the chaos of the Licensed District.

Oh, I looked up, at the fine lattice dome, its edge not that far away from the residence, the majestic light of the now wholly visible Piscium f1 shining through it, alike an orb of precious opal it was. I pointed at it and spoke that in the time that we knew, most people would see only one sky in their lifetimes, and few would see two, but I was truly blessed already had the pleasure of seeing three distinct skies. Ya, Centauri, Messier 39, and now Piscium, and it left me wondering out loud: how many more would we see? Mei spoke that all of this was just the beginning, and I felt it was truth. There was a vast Empire out there for us to explore, and our time had become boundless, much like the stars themselves.

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

Shirong then spoke the cold and unbidden remark that the Empire was growing and obtaining new worlds at a pace that exceeded the rate that we could ever hope to visit them, thus we should remain ever mindful of how we would spend our time and energy.

We saw ser Sato leave his tea room and traverse the garden to an open room on the other side. It was like a library of sorts, with racks of scrolls stacked up high. Ser Sato took some scrolls, lit a candle at a low table and began writing, in the traditional way, ya, brush pen and ink we saw him use, like a scholar of old.

We asked Yuriko what way was appropriate in order to repay ser Sato for his efforts and hospitality, but a smile she gave and she spoke that there had been no effort and there was no need to repay. We would be most welcome to stay at the residence for the duration of our visit, and enquired whether we would be interested in a boat trip and diving tour in the lagoon at some point in the next few days, and we all nodded and agreed.

The performance was at an end, and to our room we were led, which we reached by means of a small staircase in a side building of the garden. A washroom on the ground level it had, and sleeping quarters above. It had one wide open space above, but it was partitioned with paper screens, and also a tastefully arranged seating and dressing area on one side. Yuriko unpacked our futons, and she began to make our beds.

I wanted to help, but her smile stood uneasy, like she wished I would stop. “Don’t, you’re distressing her,” Shirong spoke, and I moved away to not bother her further. Then the male non with a laughing black face came up, delivering our sleeping robes. He asked of us whether we would like a hot bath in the morning, and I spoke we looked forward to it.

Once the nons had departed, I looked out the small windows, and there I saw ser Sato in the lamplight, still writing his scrolls. Then I went to sit with Mei and Shirong for a while longer.

“What do we think of him? Of ser Sato, I mean?”, I spoke. Mei shrugged and spoke that it was too early to tell, but there was obvious contrast with ser EZdoR. I spoke that while he may have the trappings of civilness around, disposable slaves he still owned, so truly was he better than everyone else? He had sent one of his own to fight to the death against one of ser EZdoR’s nons, thus beneath the veil of culture, how different was he really, deep down?

I cannot help but notice that the matter of the disposables is an ongoing concern of yours. Why is that?

Why? What a question that you ask of me. There is the Empire, creating enslaved sentient beings that are exploited for another’s pleasure. Tortured and abused they are, the scale of their suffering too vast for me to comprehend...

It appears you hold misconceptions with regards to the nature of the disposables.

Oh really, is that so? Then tell me all about it, if you would be so kind, because this supposed nature, that is one I fail to understand completely!

Later.

I would like to know!

Please continue your recounting.

Shirong was overly philosophical; I saw him worried about the things we had seen earlier that day, and he must have thought of what it would mean for the future of our colony.

The first one to bring up the obvious question that was surely on everyone’s mind that night was Mei: How to stop our colony from degrading and becoming another den of depravity alike 96 Piscium. After all, our problem is compounded by the fact that our colonists barely shared any culture or history. Shirong spoke that ser Sato was in fact civilized because he adopted the culture and norms of a pre-existing ancient Earth culture that had grown and matured over centuries.

Nay, we had no such thing, no shared background or creed. Our Company, long gone. And our harsh society we had all grown up in, as well as our families, likewise. Adrift we were, looking for meaning in a universe where one could no longer hold power, no longer have a family, no longer work a meaningful job, no longer grow old and die. Was there nothing left to strive for? Nothing worth fighting over? No greater ideal worth sacrificing our lives for, oh if even we could? Shirong spoke that we could still strive to improve ourselves as a person, and our community as a whole likewise, and I found myself concurring.

We washed ourselves, and to sleep we went. It was very quiet throughout the night, all that we heard was the distant sound of running water from one of the water features outside. It was calming, that sound, and deep thoughts it called forth, and my thoughts still chased in my mind when sleep found me at last.

The morning followed and we enjoyed the hot bath that we had been promised before when suddenly I heard a gong ring. Wondering about its significance, we looked outside, but to see anything from across the garden, we could not. Out of the tub I went, and I put on one of the robes that had been left for us. I slid open the screen on the side of the bathhouse, and peered out.

There, I could see the nons mustering at the entrance, and I felt worried, as ser EZdoR might have followed us here like a dog sniffing prey, now coming to claim us and haul us back to his den. The gate was opened, and to my relief, a blue-faced man stepped inside. I realized that what I saw was an exact replica of the non that was previously slain, alike two drops of water, down to the clothes and the paint on his face.

The other nons bowed to him then, and he was led into the main hall, out of sight. I was not able to temper my curiosity, so I left the bathhouse and followed quietly, up the stairs. I walked along a small corridor and saw them sitting in a small reception room. Incense burned and ser Sato sat on a raised dais, his eyes closed. There were electronics on the ground, and they had attached some wires to the non’s head.

Nay, I couldn’t make out what they were doing, but after a few minutes had passed, they disconnected the non and Tsutomu picked up the weapons that were on a stand at the side and passed them to ser Sato, who stood up and moved to the edge of the dais. The blue non moved over and knelt in front of him, while ser Sato performed some brief ritual, after which he handed the weapons to the non.

Then I realized their ritual might be over soon, thus I slipped away quietly. Back to the bath I went, to speak to the others what had been seen. We were still speculating, when two of the nons approached us from the garden and the side wall suddenly slid open, revealing ser Sato and the others, hands on the hilts of their swords.

No emotion they displayed, nay not even a frown. “So sorry to bother you,” Yuriko spoke with a bow, and she stepped inside. “Ser Sato would like to ask you to please step out of the water.” Naturally, we hesitated, for we were naked like a newborn, but Yuriko gave us no other option. “Please,” she repeated. Firm her voice was.

She handed us some towels to cover ourselves as we slowly complied. Tsutomo entered the room as well, spotting the robe I had used, which no longer laid neatly folded. Ya, he brusquely grabbed it and held it up, his angry face mask now beaming genuinely for once. Ser Sato approached us with agonizing slowness and looked at each of our feet in turn. Caught I was, that I knew, for a damp footprint they must have spotted on the stairs or floor.

Nay, no doubt that I had been found out remained, thus I knelt on the floor and bowed deeply, and I admitted it was me. Ser Sato turned his back on us, and I could almost hear his knuckles tighten on his sword. He concentrated, and his stance shifted ever so slightly, readying himself for a killing strike. I sat there frozen alike the stone ornaments in his garden, not knowing how to react.

“Stop!”, Shirong shouted as he lunged forward. He too froze in terror as ser Sato spun around at his sudden move, his sword already drawn, and stopping only a hair’s breadth from Shirong’s neck. Shirong made a placating gesture, then sank to his knees. Mei did likewise.

“You were snooping around my house, violating the trust I put onto you. That is bad manners. Very bad,” ser Sato hissed at me, as he pulled back his sword and began pacing in front of us.

“It is indeed,” I answered, begging for forgiveness and pressing my head to the floor like I had seen others do.

“I took you from the reach of ser 5*EZdoR. Perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps it would have been better had you remained in his company. His impulses suit you well at this moment,” ser Sato spoke, his voice changing into an almost friendly tone, veiling the insult.

“Is there anything we can offer to make this right to you?”, Shirong spoke.

Ser Sato laughed, and then his expression turned dead serious, his ashen face still paler than it was, all while moving closer, until he stood next to Shirong to speak in his face. “I don’t want the credit of dishonorable dogs,” his voice booming like thunder.

Shirong desperately tried to correct himself. “No, no, not credit. Perhaps a service instead?”

Ser Sato continued pacing for a while, while we waited in silence. Then he asked Shirong whether he was offering to provide this supposed service to account for my transgression. Shirong answered affirmatively. “Good,” ser Sato said. “Training begins in one hour.”

No more words he spoke then, nay, he sheathed his sword and marched out, and his nons likewise. We were left dumbfounded. Mei touched my shoulder and asked if I was alright, and I nodded. We dressed ourselves, and Yuriko returned not long after to collect us for breakfast. We quietly ate a light meal that consisted of some clam soup, grilled fish, pickles, and eggs, until a gong rang once and Tsutomu announced it was time for Shirong to begin the training.

We were marched into the dojo. Ser Sato at one end, his nons opposite. We bowed as we entered, and we tried to keep up our good manners. Ser Sato instructed us to sit with the nons, and we noticed he was wearing a headset. He rose slowly and removed a similar piece from a wooden box beside him, lined with precious silk. He gestured for Shirong to move out of line and put the thing on his head. Then, he retreated backward, until he reached the far end of the dojo, where he knelt and straightened his immaculate black and white robes.

The room dimmed, holographic projectors fired up, and two large glowing figures appeared in the center of the room, at least three meters tall. They were arena combots, I knew. Ser Sato bowed, and the figure matched its movements. “Now, guard yourself,” he said, as his figure drew a curved blade. Shirong’s combot did likewise, but before he could react, ser Sato’s holo had sprinted forward and closed the distance fast.

Shirong’s scream rang as ser Sato kicked his combot and slashed his sword across his chest. A follow-up strike took him in the shoulder, disarming him, and then a third one took off the combots head. I see Shirong experiencing great discomfort, as he panted and reached for his head.

“Again,” ser Sato spoke loudly, and the combots returned to their starting position then. Both bowed and this time, Shirong clumsily pulled back, managing to avoid the first kick, but he was helpless as ser Sato slashed him across the wrist and then stabbed him cleanly through the chest with a powerful two-handed thrust he executed with trivial ease.

For a few bouts it repeated, until clear it became that Shirong could not continue anymore. “It hurts,” he wailed.

“Shameful display!”, ser Sato scowled. “Finish the class!”

Shirong bowed in shame and tried again. He and ser Sato continued to spar for the rest of the hour. Ser Sato appeared to go easy and held back this time, often just throwing Shirong to the floor. Shirong was learning fast, his movements improving at every turn, whether by practice or technological means I could not know. “Good,” Sato said, and the combots disappeared, the training session over for now. “We will resume in three hours,” he concluded.

The light returned, and we began to leave. In the hallway, I saw that Shirong was addressing ser Sato. “Master,” he spoke. “Do you have a combot?”

“No,” ser Sato answered, his voice candid. “But we are going to get ourselves one.”

“And you expect me to fight?”

Ser Sato answered affirmatively. Shirong spoke that even if ser Sato were to train him, he would never perform as well as a professional player.

“You are not going to fight a professional player,” Sato answered.

“Then who, master?”, Shirong asked.

“Ser Valeriya Marakova,” ser Sato spoke. And then turned around and headed down the stairs.