kvmb Chapter 358 The Scene of Social Death
Chapter 358 The Scene of Social Death
November 15, 1990.
Tokyo, Bunku. Saionji Main House.
It was eight o'clock in the morning. The air in the living room on the second floor of the main house was filled with the aroma of freshly ground coffee beans.
The courtyard outside the French windows has already taken on the colors of late autumn. The leaves of several ancient maple trees have turned from crimson to dark brown, and occasionally a leaf will fall in the cool morning breeze.
Satsuki sat at a low table by the window. In front of her lay three thin sheets of thermal paper fax—a progress summary sent by Endo from Osaka the previous night.
The preliminary review progress of Sumitomo Metal, Sumitomo Electric Industries, and Sumitomo Light Metal, the sealing number of the comparison table, and the MT700 confirmation receipt from Citibank Tokyo branch.
Her gaze swept across the paper quickly.
When Chizuru Matsumuro entered through the side door, her footsteps were almost silent. She carried a lacquered wooden tray with a white porcelain coffee cup and a plate of thickly sliced triangular toast on it.
The toast was toasted until crispy, spread with a thick layer of peanut butter, and drizzled with honey around the edges. Next to it sat two strips of bacon and a small dish of scrambled eggs.
Chizuru carefully avoided the area where the fax paper was placed, silently placing the tray on the right side of the low table. The handle of the coffee cup faced Satsuki's right hand. She then took a half step back, folding her hands in front of her.
When Satsuki turned to the second page, she reached for her coffee cup and took a sip.
The cup was placed back on the coaster at a slightly off angle. Chizuru stepped forward, gently turned the cup two degrees to the correct position with her fingertips, and then stepped back to its original position.
After reading the third page, Satsuki folded the fax paper into thirds and casually placed it on the corner of the table. She picked up a slice of toast and took a bite. The salty-sweet peanut butter mixed with the stickiness of honey melted between her teeth.
"Chizuru".
"exist."
"Where is this peanut butter from?"
"I picked it up from Kinokuniya yesterday. Made in the USA, coarse grain style."
"Mmm, delicious."
Satsuki finished her first slice of toast, a little honey on her fingers. Chizuru handed her a damp towel. Satsuki wiped her fingers, her gaze falling on the stack of fax papers on the corner of the table.
"The progress is faster than I expected."
She took a bite out of the second slice of toast and mumbled something indistinctly.
"I haven't even played my cards yet, and Bai Shui is already on the verge of collapse."
Chizuru didn't respond. This kind of content was outside the scope of her response.
Satsuki put the bacon into the toast, took another bite, chewed a few times, and swallowed.
"It'll be ready soon for Ito Man."
She picked up her coffee cup, her gaze passing through the floor-to-ceiling window, watching a maple leaf slowly swirl and land on top of a stone lantern in the courtyard.
"Once it explodes, the Sumitomo main family meal will officially be served."
Satsuki put the last bite of scrambled eggs into her mouth. The coffee cup was empty, and Chizuru had already placed the second cup of coffee on the coaster.
Satsuki picked up her new coffee, took a sip, and suddenly turned her head to look at Chizuru.
"Have you got a meal yet?"
Chizuru bowed slightly. "I've already eaten in the kitchen."
"Okay." Satsuki nodded and pushed the empty plate aside. "Prepare a set of clothes for my trip this afternoon, something warmer."
"After that, we will go on a long trip."
"Yes, what's the climate like at the destination?"
Satsuki leaned back in her chair, her arms wrapped around the warm coffee cup.
"It's cold."
She didn't say anything more.
……
SIS underground living area, Suzuki Emi private suite.
The blackout curtains in the room were drawn tightly shut, and the only light source came from three CRT monitors side by side on the table.
The pale blue fluorescent light reflected on Amy's face, dividing her features into distinct blocks of light and shadow.
She had been sitting in that chair for four hours.
On the left monitor was a PDF document densely marked with fluorescent annotations. It was a preprint of Richard Normann's Utah Array, scheduled for publication in 1991—she had obtained a copy of the manuscript in advance through SIS's academic intelligence network.
The central monitor was running a simulation program she had written herself. The code was written in C, and a line of green characters scrolled slowly across a black background. The program was simulating the decay curve of neuronal action potentials after a microelectrode array was implanted into the primary motor cortex of rhesus monkeys.
On the right-hand monitor is a hand-drawn circuit topology diagram. The pencil lines were enlarged after being scanned into the system; the edges were somewhat blurred, but the structure was clear—it was also her design, a cross-sectional diagram of the third version of the flexible polyimide substrate probe.
Amy held a mechanical pencil in her right hand, the tip hovering above the A3 draft paper next to her.
The paper was covered with dense mathematical derivations, with the bottom line stopping at an incomplete matrix transformation.
She stared at the simulation results on the central screen, her brow furrowed deeply.
"wrong……"
She put down her pen, placed her hands on the edge of the table, and leaned closer to the screen.
The simulated rate of glial scar proliferation was nearly 40% faster than the data reported in Normann's paper. Extrapolating from this curve, the signal impedance would spike to an unusable level seven days after implantation.
Her fingers flew across the keyboard, bringing up the underlying parameters.
"The migration rate of microglia was set based on Carter's 1987 data... The activation threshold used Kreutzberg's model..."
She bit her lower lip, her gaze shifting back and forth between the two sets of parameters.
"The problem lies in the Young's modulus of the material," she muttered to herself. "The silicon substrate has 170 GPa, while brain tissue only has a few hundred Pa... a mismatch of six orders of magnitude, and the mechanical stress will continuously stimulate the inflammatory response."
She quickly wrote a line on the blank space of the draft paper:
[Polyimide ~3GPa → Still three orders of magnitude short → Is a hydrogel coating needed for buffering?]
Amy rubbed her sore eyes with her left hand and pulled her chair forward. She reached for a stack of tissue slide images sent back from the Hokkaido laboratory on the corner of the table—
"Amy, what are you doing?"
A soft voice suddenly came close to her earlobe, and a warm breath brushed against her earlobe.
"Ho—!"
Amy literally sprang up from her chair. The mechanical pencil flew from her fingers, bounced twice on the table, and rolled to the floor.
She spun around abruptly, her lower back slamming against the edge of the table, causing her to gasp in pain.
Satsuki was standing half a step behind her.
Today she was wearing a cream-colored turtleneck sweater, loosely tucked into light gray wide-leg pants. Her hands were behind her back, her head tilted, and she looked at her with a half-smile.
"Satsuki-chan... Satsuki-chan!"
Amy's voice rose almost an octave the instant she jumped. Her heart pounded in her chest, and her breathing became rapid and shallow.
The next second, her mind cleared up as if it had been doused with ice water.
Screen.
All three screens were lit up. The paper on the microelectrode array, the results of the simulation program, and the cross-sectional diagram of the flexible probe were all exposed to Satsuki's view.
"Satsuki-chan—how did you get in!" Amy's voice cracked with panic, as if she'd been caught by her parent watching something inappropriate. "The door wasn't locked—"
As she spoke, she reached for the keyboard, her fingers frantically searching for the Alt+F4 key.
With all three monitors on at the same time, her hands were jumping back and forth between the keyboards, and she hadn't closed a single window.
Satsuki didn't look at the screen.
She walked past Amy to the bed on the other side of the room, turned around, and sat down. The mattress sagged slightly under her weight.
She crossed her legs, rested her hands on the bedding behind her, and spoke casually.
"I authorized the installation of this access control system, Amy."
Satsuki tilted her head, a smile spreading across her eyes.
"I have the highest level of access to all facilities in the Saionji family residence."
Amy's hands froze above the keyboard.
Seeing her helpless expression, Gaoyue raised a hand and tapped her temple with her index finger.
"Who do you think approved those experimental monkeys for you?"
Amy's mouth opened and then closed.
"That...that..."
Satsuki stood up, walked to Amy's face, and gently tapped the tip of her nose with her index finger.
"Fool."
Amy's nose wrinkled reflexively when it was touched. She raised her hand to scratch her nose, her ears already burning red.
Then, her gaze went past Satsuki's shoulder and landed on the bed.
The blood had drained from his face.
It's over...it's over, it's over!
That life-size body pillow! That custom-made life-size body pillow with a full-body illustration of Satsuki printed on it! It just lies there so brazenly in the middle of the bed, face up, without any cover at all!
And Satsuki was just sitting right next to it.
Amy desperately suppressed the urge to scream, her gaze continuing to wander.
It passed over the bed and the bedside table, landing on the entire wall opposite.
Hundreds of photos. Profiles in the classroom, backs seen on the way home from school, full-body portraits in The Club, silhouettes on the balcony of a villa in Karuizawa…
Some photos are clear, some are out of focus at the edges, and some are clearly taken from a great distance with a telephoto lens. They densely cover the entire wall, like a mosaic pieced together from fragments.
They are all Saionji Satsuki.
The room was silent for about three seconds.
Those three seconds felt like three centuries to Amy.
"..."
Her knees began to buckle, and her fingers unconsciously clenched the hem of her T-shirt.
Satsuki had already walked back to the bedside. She looked down and reached out to pick up the life-sized body pillow.
The pillow was large, and Satsuki held it upright in front of her, resting her chin on the top of the pillow, revealing half of her face.
She looked at Amy, who was standing there, trembling slightly.
"You sleep with this every night?"
Satsuki's tone carried a hint of helplessness, but the corners of her mouth were clearly upturned.
Those words shattered Amy's last psychological defenses.
She rushed forward, gesturing wildly with her hands in mid-air, her voice already trembling with tears.
"No... Satsuki-chan, let me explain—that, that is..."
Her lips trembled, and tears welled up in her eyes at a visible rate. She tried to find a reasonable explanation, but her mind went blank.
No, no matter how you explain it, this behavior can only be classified as "perverted," right?
Satsuki put down the cushion. She stood up, walked to Amy, and reached out to pinch Amy's already red ear. Her fingertips were slightly cool as she gently rubbed Amy's earlobe.
Then she let go and walked to the photo wall.
Satsuki crossed her arms, tilted her head, and slowly moved her gaze between the photos.
"Amy."
Amy's body stiffened abruptly.
She moved shakily over and stopped half a step to Satsuki's side. Her fingertips twisted the hem of her T-shirt, wringing the fabric into wrinkles.
"Satsuki-chan...I..."
Why did you take such an ugly picture of me?
Satsuki pointed her index finger at one of the photos. It was taken from a low angle, elongating her chin and making her cheeks appear somewhat flat due to the lighting.
"……Why?"
Amy's mind went blank for a moment.
Satsuki turned around to face Amy. She tilted her chin slightly—Satsuki was about half a head shorter than Amy, and this angle made her expression look somewhat reserved.
"Is this how I look in your eyes?"
She seemed angry and turned her face away.
"No—!"
Amy's voice was almost a shout. She shook her head violently, her black hair whipping through the air in arcs.
"Satsuki-chan is the prettiest! How could that be—it's just the angle—I, I'll definitely take a better picture next time—"
He choked up halfway through his sentence.
Tears welled up without warning. She wiped her face haphazardly with the back of her hand, but the tears just kept flowing, unstoppable.
It wasn't because I was afraid of being blamed. It was just that something that had been building up in my chest for who knows how long suddenly burst forth.
She wanted to explain something, but from any angle, the scene in the room was beyond the realm of "normal." She knew it perfectly well.
What she feared was that Satsuki would find her disgusting.
They would think she was an abnormal person.
They would think she's a pervert.
He won't want her anymore.
The knife hovered overhead, yet it didn't fall. This sense of impending doom was even more devastating than being struck.
Satsuki looked at her, crying so hard she couldn't speak.
Then, he burst out laughing.
She stepped forward, opened her arms, and hugged Amy tightly.
Amy was taller than her. Satsuki's forehead rested just below Amy's collarbone, and the soft touch of her sweater clung to Amy's tear-soaked T-shirt.
"Don't take photos without my permission again."
Satsuki's voice muffled against Amy's chest, tinged with laughter.
"If you want to take pictures, let's take some good ones together."
Amy's body stiffened for a moment. Then, as if all the support of her skeleton had been removed, she went limp and carefully, tentatively, placed her hands on Satsuki's back.
"……Really?"
She lowered her head, her eyes blurred with tears as she looked at the dark hair on the top of her head in her arms.
"Satsuki-chan, aren't you angry with me?"
Satsuki loosened her embrace, took a half step back, and looked up at her.
"What's it to you?"
"Well... uh..."
Amy's gaze drifted to the photo wall, then back. She opened her mouth several times, but couldn't say anything.
"Would you betray me?"
Satsuki's tone suddenly changed. Like water seeping from a crack in the rock in winter, the temperature dropped instantly.
Amy straightened her back.
"No! That can't be!"
Her voice was quick, with an almost instinctive decisiveness.
"Everything I have belongs to Satsuki-chan."
She looked into Satsuki's eyes, her gaze filled with tears, fear, and something welling up from the depths of her bones.
"That's fine then."
Satsuki's voice returned to its gentle tone, as if the chill from just a moment ago had never existed.
She loosened her crossed arms and strolled slowly around the room, hands behind her back. As she passed the photo wall, her finger lightly tapped on a reasonably well-taken profile picture.
"I'm so glad you care about me so much."
Amy stood there, watching Satsuki move around in the dimly lit room.
She wanted to follow, raised a hand, but then pulled it back. Her fingertips hovered in mid-air, hesitant.
Satsuki turned around.
She grabbed Amy's hand, which was dangling in mid-air.
"Pack up."
Satsuki pulled her towards the door. The white light from the corridor outside flooded in, making Amy squint.
"Let's go on a trip."
"travel?"
Amy was pulled outside, her steps faltering. She rubbed her still slightly red and swollen eyes with her free hand.
"Where to?"
Satsuki didn't turn around. She took Amy's hand and walked briskly towards the light outside the door.
"An empire on the verge of collapse."
Amy paused for a moment.
Satsuki's silhouette appeared very small in the light.
She turned her head to the side, revealing half of her face.
"The Soviet Union."