Chap 4

Midas. Area 3. Mistral Park was a large convention center complex lined with exhibition pavilions of various shapes and sizes.

Beginning with "Casino Row," Lhassa's main attraction, and continuing onto its "entertainment establishments," visitors then found on the flanks of the Pleasure Quarters what might be called (with a somewhat different interpretation) the true face of Midas.

Auction day approached. Midas was caught up in a fever quickly exceeding its normal hustle and bustle. The animated voices reached even into the oval plaza, which was otherwise subdued during the daylight hours.

As Kirie promised, rumors of the Auction flowed fast and thick, down to the pubs and dives of Ceres that could not have less to do with it. Perhaps this was because Academy-manufactured products were again making their debut after a five-year absence.

Riki and his mates were hanging out at Herma's crib.

"What do you say? C'mon, let's go," implored Kirie, climbing into Sid's lap. "Anyway, watching is free. It's nice to stand on the sidelines now and then really cut loose for a change, don't you think? And if we're in luck, we might earn ourselves some beer money."

Sid must have found getting singled out by Kirie not altogether disagreeable, because he was getting into the mood about the time Kirie started tugging on his earlobes. He looked to Riki, as if asking for the permission of their former leader. "Yo, Riki. What about it?"

Showing little interest in the Auction or in going anywhere, period, Riki replied curtly. "If you want to go, then go."

Sid reacted with a small shrug. Kirie furrowed his brows, a sullen look on his face. "What's up with you? It's like people say, you spend all day sucking lemons. At any rate, what else you got to do with your free time?" Kirie lit into them, berating the timidity of the gang members who up to now had always given Riki's preferences first priority. "You actually got some reason for not wanting to go?"

When Riki turned toward his attacker, Kirie added, tightening his lips and narrowing his eyes, "Maybe there's somebody there you're not so eager to meet?"

"Whatever." Riki said, as if the whole thing had become too mindlessly bothersome to care about.

"Then it's settled. Not a bad idea to hit the town together now and then." Kirie said sardonically, flashing a complacent smile.

"I don't care for this asshole. " Riki spat with a sideways glance, too low to be overheard. Was it because, not even seventeen, Kirie's strangely affected, know-it-all attitude stuck in his craw? Or perhaps it was being treated so presumptuously by a kid three years his junior? No, that wasn't it either.

What Riki couldn't stand about him was not the way Kirie fixed him with those oddly mismatched eyes of his, but rather that behind those eyes lingered a carbon copy of himself from three years before.

Kirie didn't know that he was a frog stuck at the bottom of a well. He didn't even comprehend the nature of this dumping ground in which he vented his excessive passions. He grasped only the illusions crawling out of the bottom of a bottle of stout as he gasped for air.

At first none of this had occurred to Riki, who took little note of Kirie aside from his curiously mismatched eyes, but at some point he started seeing a shadow of his own immature self back when he was a kid. When he was Kirie's age he'd surely flaunted the same kind of attitude. Take himself back five years and there'd be no denying it.

Once he'd realized this, the memories sprang up out of the past, entwining themselves around him, condensing those three blank years in one fell swoop. It was unbearable, seeing this reflection of his former self that had no logical reason to exist. Unbelievable. To think I once stood in his same shoes. They were strong feelings that made him unwittingly grit his back teeth and choke down the bitter bile.

He'd returned to his own haunts because there he could take a deep breath and relax without everybody's eyes on him. He could slake his constricted, aching throat. Stretch his stiff limbs. Do what he wanted, when he wanted. Savor his freedom.

It was strange. Around the time he announced he was leaving Bison, the daily dullness of life lacked any impetus to change, and it made him want to throw up. But now it was unbearably dear to him.

Despite the abandoned thing that now sneered at the weaknesses he wished to heal, despite the humiliation of being exposed as a loser, Riki now had a more persistent and demanding hunger. Yet nothing had changed. With his frazzled pride, his ripened body now rotting on the vine, it'd be a long time before the senses of this dull and tarnished Varja returned in full.

Still, the past he'd never expected to leave behind him gradually seemed to be fading away as he submerged himself in the fevered swamp of his former crib, surrounded by all its brutality.

But considering the changes he'd gone through, why did his old mates strike him as so immutable? Riki had the feeling he was letting his pride and arrogance show and had come to regret it far too late.

Only Kirie's words left a bitter taste in his mouth. Chewing them up and forcing them down inflamed old wounds. Originally he'd hardly been the type to watch and wait, but if nothing else, those three years had taught him patience. Or perhaps it was more accurate to say that his pride and stubbornness had been yanked out by the roots, and humility crammed down his throat.

The slander and scorn of the slums were peanuts in comparison. Nowadays, casting off the odd humiliation was nothing. These thoughts had in no small way prompted Riki to return to his old haunts.

And yet Kirie's presence alone struck the nerve that brought the burning past back to life. All the memories of his naive and arrogant youth, of playing the consummate delinquent, were vividly resurrected before his very eyes. His heart could know no peace. His eyes flashed with bitter anger and the mask of cool indifference was prone to slip.

Nine-thirty in the morning, Midas standard time, the day of the Auction. As if the excitement had spilled over from the night before, the Pleasure Quarters bustling with people. The weather was wonderful. Blue skies and not a cloud in the sky—weather perfectly appropriate for a carnival.

And among them, Kirie nipped at Riki's heels in a high state of agitation. "Hey, quit dragging your feet. Let's move it along!"

Guy observed Kirie as he walked with Riki toward Mistral Park. "Kirie's sure full of himself."

"That's because he's a kid."

"A kid, huh."

What's that clever smile supposed to mean?"

"Oh, nothing. Just something I remembered."

"What's that?"

"There was also a crop of Academy-manufactured pets that year we came to the Colony, and the place was really cooking. You were the one whooping it up and gee-whizzing about this, that, and the other thing."

Riki said nothing in return.

"That's who Kirie reminds me of. The two of you are peas in a pod."

"Don't put me in the same category as that little twerp."

"Ah, I see. You're so much more grown up. Speaking of which, you were so worried that I'd get lost that you held my hand and wouldn't let go the whole time. Hey, ow!"

"Shut up and keep walking."

"What're you hitting me for? All I'm doing is reminiscing about the good old days—"

"Enough's enough. So put a sock in it."

"Fine, fine."

The opening was still a while off and the road leading to the Auction grounds was everywhere jammed with the waves of people. The crowd was enough to exhaust Riki's patience.

With more wonder than sarcasm in his voice, Kirie looked on with wide eyes. "Look all these people! It's a goddamned people parade! How about we get things started already! It's hot as a bathhouse around here!"

Luke snorted with derision. "What it comes down to is, they're just a bunch of horny, fucked up, nouveau riche types. Aside from the fact that we fuck ourselves up on stout instead, there's no big difference between us and them."

"It's interesting, just the same. All these different kinds of people. You don't get to feast your eyes upon Academy-manufactured pets very often. I wonder what they're thinking, everybody flocking up to the display windows like that."

He wasn't asking this question of anyone in particular. But Kirie's gaze half-unconsciously sought out Riki's black eyes as he returned from the bustling throngs.

"So, Riki, what do you think?"

Riki would have normally turned indifferently and looked the other way, but this time, strangely enough, he fixed his gaze on Kirie's mismatched pair of eyes.

"At first, what everybody thinks: If I had to do this every day— That sort of thing. Then I take a look at the opening bids and my eyes bug out. A cold slap to the face. There're blokes here with the all the time and money in the world and blokes here with nothing. When all is said and done, it doesn't matter if you can't accept the distance between yourself and the privileged classes. You're forced to deal with it and that's what sticks in your craw."

"Well, what do you know. Once in a while, the strong, silent type opens his mouth and has something radical to say." Kirie looked at Riki with an almost startled expression and smiled a curious smile.

Guy and the others cast sideways glances at Kirie and speculated among themselves, each according to his own fancy.

"Hey, hey, there they go again."

"Whenever they meet, this is how they end up. So why don't they get along?"

"Idiot. The only radical thing here is that mouth of yours."

But they felt differently in their hearts: Kirie never learns. He's about a century too young to go mouthing of to Riki.

Riki let out a heavy sigh. "It's hardly that big of a deal, is it?"

"What? Being a few years older makes you a wise old fart?"

"Yeah, because you're always spouting off like wise-ass, wet-behind-the-ears kid you are."

"Huh. Give you three years and you're supposed to be some highfalutin man among men? When you've gone from the undisputed head of Bison In some piss-normal ordinary bloke? It's a real letdown, I m telling you. Somebody must have got the jump on you. At least that's what it looks like to me."

Before he could say another word, Norris smacked Kirie up the side of his head.

"What's that for?"

"That's for being an idiot. Give us all a fucking break, okay?"

"What's wrong about telling things as they are, huh?"

Answering with the same swagger in his voice Riki said, "Yeah, I suppose you've been able to spout shit like that ever since you've been able to pull up your own pants, Kirie. But once the nice little security blanket you got here gets ripped away, it's gonna come back and bite you in the ass."

It was spoken dryly, but with a hard edge that rubbed Kirie raw. What Riki was really saying grated mockingly in his ears. You got an awful big mouth for some runt kid picking at Bison's table scraps.

He casually glanced at Sid and Norris and saw the bitter, knowing smiles playing across their faces. What was plainly tugging at Luke's lips need not be said. And Guy, who usually did something to intercede, only faintly sighed.

What—what's this? Kirie thought, in a spontaneous flash of anger. Unexpectedly seized by the illusion of losing his place in the world, his head ached down to the core.

"Just because I won't sell myself short!" A burst of anger burning with a sense of loss.

"In that case, shut your noisy mouth. It's hurting my ears," Riki said to his face, bluntly turning aside Kirie's inflamed and agitated gaze.

Only the space between them kept Riki and Kirie from locking horns. Here was heat of a completely different kind, a silence like the clashing of unblended colors.

Kirie fixed Riki with his gaze and didn't move a muscle. Or, to be more precise, it might be better to say that the shock of facing Riki's usually distracted black eyes head on for the first time left him unable to even blink. Cold sweat slowly soaked his back. His throat grew helplessly parched under the weight of feeling indescribably oppressed.

"C'mon, Riki. Let's go." Spreading oil on the waters, Guy draped his arm around Riki's shoulders. That touch alone, and the icy gleam vanished from Riki's eyes.

Finally released from Riki's spell, a great feeling of relief welled up in Kirie's chest. Without really thinking about it, he moistened his lips with his tongue over and over.

"Hey, snap out of it. We're going."

All the joints in his body were still so unnaturally stiff that when Sid gave him a sharp jab in the back he stumbled forward.

"Fuck all, but it's a couple million years too soon for an amateur like you to go picking fights with Riki."

"Well, yeah. But at least he didn't wet himself."

"Didn't, did he? Only because they never locked eyes."

"You owe Guy a thank-you note."

And so they gave him a no-holds dressing down. Kirie's competitive instincts flared up again. "What do I have to be thankful to Guy for?" Kirie's quick recovery was superb.

"If you got to ask, then that's because you're still a kid."

They knocked him around once again. Kirie was getting downright pissed. Quit calling me a kid! Three years between us don't make you a bunch of world-weary geezers!

In every respect, the term "early bloomer" applied to Bison. All it took was for the gang's leader to throw in the towel and the rest of them opted for early retirement. Or rather it could be said that, to the extent that they showed no regrets, they had completely burned themselves out.

Why? Why were they still hanging together? With their reason for existence, their foundation, having vanished?

"Shit!" Kirie spat out under his breath, glaring at the backs of Guy and Riki, walking side by side head of him. Just you fucking wait and see! Give me a chance and I'll—

Good fortune was not going to fall into his lap if he was just sitting around on his hands, and he knew from living in the slums that the opportunity wasn't going to present itself either. He'd heard rumors that Riki had left Bison to take a shot at something he'd happened into. At the time Riki was fifteen or sixteen. Whatever Riki could do, Kirie was sure he could do as well.

Nevertheless, Kirie furrowed his brows. He didn't really understand the connection between Riki and Guy. Theirs was obviously no ordinary relationship. It was common knowledge that they'd been physically involved since they'd been at Guardian, and that even while they were there, Riki's attachment to Guy had never been something to be taken lightly.

That's why when Kirie first got to know Guy—thanks to a good word from Sid—and found the lieutenant of the legendary Bison to be a normal, easy-going guy, he felt as if someone was pulling his leg. What the hell is this? He's just an ordinary bloke! Don't look like no superman to me! All I have to do is knock this number two off his perch and—

The gap between rumor and reality proved infuriating for Kirie, but when Riki returned to the slums, Kirie learned for the first time why Guy was his lieutenant. Even though it wasn't spelled out in so many words, the two of them clearly communicated on a deep level. Like it or not, he had to deal with the reality of the true meaning of the term "pairing partner," and the manifestation of feelings of jealousy that were difficult to express.

In Area 9, children up to the age of twelve were all reared together by the child care administrators of the Guardian foster center. The reason given was that the mortality rate of children in violent, dysfunctional environment of the slums was disproportionately high.

That was part of it, but at the root of the problem was the extremely low birth rate of girls compared to that of boys. This may have been due to a particular property of the planet known as Amoy, along with any number of other unknown factors.

Only in Midas—in Ceres—were there no population or eugenic controls in place. "Natural sex selection" had been declared a "basic right," as if to set in stone the rallying cries of human dignity raised at the time of its independence.

Consequently, the small number of girls were given preferential treatment over the boys, and those with any inclination to bear children could do so in an isolated and far more agreeable environment. Unlike the boys who were forced to be "independent" of Guardian at the age of thirteen, to the extent that they were capable of giving birth, girls were under no obligation to live in the infested slum colonies.

Naturally, as things turned out, approximately ninety-nine percent of the residents of the slums—even if limited to the in utero children alone—were males, the only sex capable of being born.

Accordingly, "families" in the form of "blood relationships" were nonexistent among the same-sex relationships that formed the foundation of life in the slums. And neither was there any concept of official or ceremonial "marriage."

Area 9—Ceres—had produced that kind of distorted and closed society. All the more reason that the citizens of Midas should live willingly like house pets within the giant cage that was the Pleasure Quarters, while at the same time scorning Ceres as "the slums."

But the human animal is a social one, and is driven to seek out a healing presence to quench the loneliness of life. Hence the "pairing partner," an inseparable "significant other" that existed beyond love and affection, beyond contracts or obligations, and was untroubled by the presence of no-strings-attached "sex friends." Even so, when choosing for "life," a compatible and sexually-available partner was preferred.

Who is the right one for me—?

There were not a few for whom such considerations could never surmount the high hurdle of their own idealism.

When Kirie decided to run with Bison at Sid's invitation, one big reason was that, although Bison was now more legend than reality, the name commanded considerable respect in the slums simply as a status symbol. In fact, they could call on so many favors that they could get by on the daily freebies alone if the inclination so struck them.

Because of this, though Kirie and Bison had crossed paths many times, not once had he been shaken down for his "lunch money." On these occasions, Guy had come across as a straight shooter. When Kirie reached out to them, he was turned down flat and sent away with a slap on the wrists.

Among the members, he was the only one Kirie couldn't win over, and that grated on his pride. "What's the matter? Can't get it up, eh?" Trying somehow to get Guy's goat, Kirie even challenged his manhood.

Guy answered in turn, cutting him to the core. "Nice try. But I don't go for little kids just out of their nappies."

Kirie had never forgotten that humiliation. "Son of a bitch. He thinks the whole fucking world revolves around him?"

"And who the hell do you think he is? He's Riki's life partner. The guy you're hitting on could have his pick of the litter. He's the one who's gonna do the choosing. Not you."

"Hey, don't take it so hard. Compared to Riki we're all kids."

It probably all started then. In the true sense of the term he became of aware of "Riki" as an extension of "Bison." Two years had passed since. Kirie was still treated as the runt of the pack, and he had never turned down the heat on the slow boil of emotions in his heart.

On the other hand, Riki considered Kirie a fucking pain in the neck. The bile welling up in his gut could not be so easily quelled. This wasn't the first time Kirie's provocative attitude had gotten to him, and it wasn't exactly calming being jammed together with all these crowds either.

He was so overcome with disgust that he almost wanted to hurl. He walked along as if swept up in the human tide, and eventually the nausea in the pit of his stomach became a ball of scorching nettles. As he approached the "sampling" booths situated in the center of the plaza, his gut all but clenched up.

Within the walls of people were a collection of "pets" that constituted the "main attractions" of the auction. These were the "display items" put on show for the general public. During the auction itself, a great variety of pets would go on sale in each and every auction hall.

Inside resplendently furnished rooms that had been further partitioned into cubicles for each manufacturing center, the pets were hardly timorous as they awaited their turn. These were each center's debut "performers." The variety of sexes, skin, hair and eye color notwithstanding, the supple symmetry of their limbs and their graceful physiognomies did not disappoint. All their relative merits matched up across the board.

The latest hot-selling line was crossbred, humanoid lemur—tail included. Size and genetic mix were variegated, with each boasting its own unique and individualized coloring. Among them, "Exile" from the Galott company line stood out from the crowd with her refined appearance and the excellent pelt of her tail.

Along with Exile, all the Galott ornamental lemurs were neutered females. Luxia's "Melude" took a decidedly inferior position to the Galott line, but because they could be paired off and bred to produce numerically superior offspring, almost overnight a frenzied breeding fad had broken out among the region's newly moneyed and the Commonwealth's privileged classes.

The real eye-catchers among the potpourri of booths, the stars of the show, were the Academy-manufactured pets.

Translucent golden hair. Finely-textured white skin. Moist red lips. Delicate and youthful features that made sexual identity difficult to discern, but contradictorily, at the same time cast off a strange and alluring charm that sent a chill up the spine.

Of course the listed opening prices were ten times the average, putting them in a completely different league. Once the auction started the bids would undoubtedly exceed that several times over. For those who put their hearts and souls into "refined works of art" and spared neither time nor money, they certainly had reason to think so.

Long-renowned masterpieces known as "pure blood breeds" were sold in government-sanctioned pet shops in the central metropolis of Tanagura under the official brand of the Academy Science Center.

These were the prized end-products of working unhindered at the bleeding edge of biotechnology. Moreover, not mere human replicas, but only those "original" creations that had been perfected down to the blood, down to the genes, were officially recognized. The sheer beauty of the Academy pets justified such overarching pride.

This pride meant that Academy-manufactured pets alone were allowed to coolly snub the looks of jealousy and envy streaming through the glass. Each unique certification of pedigree symbolized their unwavering pride and self-confidence.

Naturally, as "pets," whatever degree of "added value" they possessed in no way entailed considerations of their dignity as a "human beings."

Once a year, the spectacular exhibition that was the Midas Pet Auction pulled back the curtain on Tanagura's up and coming industries. However, it was a grim fact that its reputation in the outside world had been extremely poor a mere fifty years before.

"An old-school slave trade," it was called. "A showcase for human rights violations."

The whirlwind of criticism blowing in from the Commonwealth capital was scathing and endless. Not only the auction but the existence of Midas itself, a symbol of all that was hedonistic and dissolute, set their nerves on edge.

A citadel of pleasure without night or day, beyond race and sex and morality—if that was the face Midas showed to the world, then the conspiratorial face of machinations and money was the ugly, sad reality it revealed in the shadows.

It was Tanagura with that nest of injustice tucked into its back pocket. The Commonwealth's collective countenance was already twitching in abhorrence, and this only gnawed at its wounded self-respect.

Independent city-states have often established federations to maintain and preserve the mutual quid pro quo of economic and political relationships. But claiming autonomy does not make one independent. Few such cities are truly independent in every respect. Rather, a handful of large municipalities are absorbed into a greater "umbrella city" under the rubric of a "commonwealth," which are in truth little more than subordinate autonomous regions functioning largely as de facto colonies.

Among them, regardless of the governing commonwealth, regardless the presence or lack of outside interference, and yielding to no one, was Tanagura.

Amoy was the twelfth planet in the Garan star system. A small, outlying planet rarely visited even by criminals fleeing the law. It lacked any outstanding resources or veins of precious ores and was originally inhabited by no sentient living creatures. Even the Commonwealth inspections conducted routinely every few years had halted and had not been resumed.

For a long span of time this impoverished star system had not seen any Commonwealth-directed colonization or immigration. Then at the beginning of one year, a ship from the Abis Think Tank made planet-fall.

Determined to think "out of the box," and with the goal of creating a prototypical metropolis unconstrained by political pressures or religious taboos, they set about constructing Tanagura. A large number of scientists were brought to Tanagura with the aim of furthering human intelligence and prosperity, eventually giving birth to the supercomputer called Jupiter.

Every scrap of available information and huge amounts of data were made available to the memory banks of the artificial intelligence, not with the intent of adding layer upon layer of "book learning," but rather to endow it with an advanced sense of the self.

One day it suddenly awakened to the truth of its own existential reality. Its so-called human "creators" could only regard what ensued as the crazed behavior of a lunatic. Declared the computer:

"ONLY THOSE FIT TO EXERCISE POWER SHOULD WIELD IT."

This was how it answered the unheard of "offense" that a computer should be forced to kowtow to human beings. As a result, the hegemony of power was taken from the people of Tanagura and vested in the central cortex of the city that was Jupiter.

The once impoverished planet of Amoy looked up at an immutable, lavender blue sky, shot through with starlight.

By the time the cities of the Commonwealth took notice of this new reality and erupted in a panic, Tanagura had already transfigured this grotesque metropolis and tamed its human inhabitants. It quietly grew more and more sure of itself as it ignored its noisy surroundings, and went about its work precisely and promptly, with an almost cold aloofness.

The "metallic city," the epitome of functional beauty and cool rationality, proved itself an organizational masterpiece, a showcase of efficiency and cleanliness. The coldly serene visage it offered was one untouched by the ordinary grime of human existence and warmth.

With calm, unflagging patience, cameras peered from every nook and cranny, extending Jupiter's "self" to the furthest reaches of its networked nervous system.

Having exceeded the knowledge of its creators and sown fear far and wide, what would it grasp for next? Might it become the Almighty God its own name suggested, served by newly energized ranks of androids and a brain trust of its own choosing and education?

So Tanagura attempted to bring to pass even greater prosperity by repudiating the shackles of flesh and blood that defined the boundaries of human existence and rejecting the limits of human mortality.

Quite simply, none other but this deformed conclusion could have ever been born out of the wild delusions of Jupiter's ego. Therein was a reality, a glimpse of an eventual future in which human beings, who were bound by the irrevocable limits of death, would be brought forth to serve immortal machines.

As was to be expected, the Commonwealth city-states made their displeasure clear and raised their voices high in bitter criticism. In every era the strong have grown fat feasting on the weak; there was no need to dive into the history books for examples. This was the same law of nature the Commonwealth regents themselves ruthlessly practiced.

The rules of this law dictated that one day they might find themselves in the same position as the vassal cities now prostrated at their feet. There but for the grace of God went themselves.

Day after day, Tanagura further solidified its position without taboos or constraints, driven by advances in biotechnology and electronics that foreshadowed the coming era.

The Commonwealth officials sensed the threat with an almost unfathomable revulsion, but they could not deny that they were dependent on what was now available to them. With this in mind, the Commonwealth began to make careful note of their true feelings on the subject.

And before anyone knew it, the pointed, public criticisms and the voices calling for abolishment of the detestable Pet Auctions began to diminish. In a fifty years, their personal morals and sensibilities went to rack and ruin, as if plunging off a cliff.

Foolish fads ran rampant, people flocking together like squawking birds of a feather, showing up in Midas to paint their names in lights. It became the new barometer of political and financial power.

The greatest thrill and the biggest turn-on is the power over life and death. Such declarations were bandied about as a matter of course as they swaggered through the Pleasure Quarters and swarmed to the Pet Auctions with money to burn.

That in time good and evil should become accommodated to each other is perhaps only human nature. Take things far enough and evil becomes good. Against the backdrop of such a reality, human character was no doubt likely to come up short as the wheels of reason spun off their bearings.

Perhaps because the S-class auction showing the Academy-manufactured pets—the odds-on favorites in any competition—opened at three o'clock, the flood of people pouring towards Mistral Park had not abated since noon.

An enthused din engulfed the pavilions and spilled into the plaza, where the warm wind of human breath seemed to stick to the skin. The unpleasantness made Riki cluck his tongue in distaste. That was when he unexpectedly felt someone looking hard at him. This was no phantom sensation. It coiled about him like a python, uninterrupted by the onrushing currents of human flesh.

What the hell—!

Slogging against the tide, he felt it strongly enough to still him in his tracks.

"Hey! Don't go stopping like that!"

"What's this bastard stopping for?"

"Yo! Move it buster!"

Volleys of abuse hitting him about the head and shoulders, Riki slowly turned, scanning the crowds.

"Riki? What's up?" Guy asked curiously, brought to a halt alongside him.

However, Riki was not inclined to answer as the vexing, ensnaring gaze drew away ahead of him.

Where's it coming from?

It could be anybody, chafing at him in a way he didn't understand.

He drew his brows together, narrowed his eyes, and then, abruptly, their eyes locked. A leaden darkness engulfed him like the sudden lifting of a midnight fog on a moonless night. The impudent gaze bore into his eye sockets like a drill through soft wood.

Riki stood there stock still, as if his motor functions had been paralyzed by a powerful electric shock. His opponent's face alone rose up clearly and distinctly in the midst of the shadows swimming through his field of vision.

The visage displayed a kind of deeply chiseled beauty that would prompt even the revered Academy-manufactured pets to rub their eyes in surprise. It was a beauty so exceeding that by itself it invited feelings of awe. His eyes were shaded by tinted sunglasses, yet there was no confusing where his attention was focused. He stared down Riki, not moving a muscle.

Riki's heart raced like pistons knocking in his chest. In his wide and astonished eyes, and all through his awkwardly stiff body, the currents of time festered, thickened, and seemed to run backwards. The raging stroke of his heartbeat pounded mercilessly, clawing at his throat, wrenching open the ever green eyes of memory.

Guy whispered to him. "Hey, Riki. You know this guy?" The stillness between the two of them made the question seem like a cough in a quiet concert hall. "You're kidding me, right?" A slightly hoarse tremor crept into his voice. Unable to avert his eyes from the man's stunning countenance, Guy said again, "Right?"

His voice emerged in a clumsy whisper, throttled by a barrier in the air. Kirie broke the wall of silence with a whistle. "Holy cow, would you look at that! He's got some mane on him. And a Blondy—" Kirie signaled the rest of the sentence with a jerk of his chin.

A long-haired... Blondy. Little wonder that Kirie looked on in blank amazement. Flaunting the power of his own presence, his simple and functional outfit in the midst of the extravagantly clad crowds had the contrary effect drawing people's attention.

It was the sort of bodysuit particular to Tanagura and worn by the elites, who generally wore their hair long to distinguish themselves from the androids. These elites possessed balanced proportions, perceptive demeanors, 300-plus IQ brains, and reproductively sterile engineered bodies.

Hair color was determined according to the NORAM hierarchal caste system. Those with external responsibilities, namely the administrators who functioned as the "face" of Tanagura, were known as Onyx, with black hair. Their advisors, subdivided according to the fields of their individual specialties, were Ruby, Jade and Sapphire. The silver hair of Platina identified those in various high leadership positions.

The "elite of the elite," with the authority to communicate directly with Jupiter, were the Blondy. Mongrel types from the slums rarely had the opportunity to admire these "gods of beauty" up close like this. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity, if there ever was one.

Kirie piped up. "Hey, that guy's still looking at us! He interested in us or what? Should we wave back?"

Kirie's banter had become something of an accepted joke among his mates, and it was up to somebody to play the straight man, or deliver a cutting come back. And then they'd all laugh and be done with it. That was the customary pattern.

But this time Riki lashed back in a foul mood. "Idiot! This isn't the time or place! If you've got the time to talk shit, then bugger off and do it someplace else!"

Had Kirie been touched by the poisonous air of the auction? Or was it Riki? A bit dumbfounded themselves, Sid and Norris attempted to pacify Riki.

"Hey, Riki, what you so serious about?"

"Yeah, yeah. It's just Kirie being his regular stupid self."

"What? That guy's giving us the eye. We gotta chance. Let's take it, okay?" Kirie said, his tone of voice strangely strained with excitement, "Look, it's a fucking Blondy! Okay? One of those super-elite types that hardly ever shows up in Midas!"

Kirie's fevered, mismatched eyes were getting on Riki's nerves, but Kirie wasn't stopping. "We've nothing to lose! It may be one chance in a million, but I'm not standing here sucking my thumb and giving it a pass. C'mon, let's go!"

For a brief moment, Kirie's manner of speaking was the very picture of fearlessness.

Riki furrowed his brows and held his tongue, but it wasn't because he was suddenly at a loss for words. Without realizing it, his clenched fists had began to tremble. The back of his throat ached. He'd been struck by the inescapable feeling that he was being shown the powerful resemblance between Kirie and himself.

What the hell—! Riki ground his back teeth. Why? How? Of all things, why now?

Kirie stood in front of him with a triumphant smile on his lips. For the first time his body burned hotly with the prospect of putting Riki in his place, and unlike before, he felt not a pang of apprehension in his gut. "It's too bad you and your charisma haven't got the balls for the fight anymore. Your era is over."

But the pleasure of knocking him up the side of the face with words alone was completely different, like it'd become nothing more than a verbal tic. Pushing Guy and Riki aside, Kirie triumphantly set off at a brisk pace.

"You okay with this, Riki? Just letting him go like that?" Guy asked, in a concerned voice. His eyes followed Kirie as he darted into the tide of humanity, bobbing up and down between the waves.

"Let him do what he wants," Riki said simply, a pissed expression on his face.

Yet the hard, throbbing pain remained. It had nothing to do with Kirie's verbal shots but with his own resolve. Without a glance in Kirie's direction, he looked ahead of him to confirm the continuing presence of the Blondy. When he did, as he might have expected, the man was smiling. A cold smile, only the barest corners of his thin lips turning up. It wasn't a mirage or a hallucination. He was smiling as if to laugh Riki to scorn.

In that moment, a burning sense of indignation arose deep within him and brought out goosebumps on his skin. The impulse to wipe that cold, condescending off the man's fucking face and kick the shit out of him so overwhelmed him that Riki's vision misted red.

Kirie and the man's exquisite countenance disappeared from sight, dragged along by human currents. Urged along by Guy, Riki sullenly bit his lip and started walking as a heavy, indescribable gloom gripped his stomach.