Chapter 63

4 The prefecture of Hyogo was considered by many to be the heart of Japanese industry, particularly in defense, as its proximity to Kyoto allowed it to play an active role in defending the nation’s capital. It was also home to Matoba Heavy Industries, the company that pioneered animal weaponry and now supplied the entire nation. People said that the prefecture was full of a bunch of money-grubbing thugs, acting under borrowed authority, but with the government at their backs, nobody wanted to mess with them, and so Hyogo managed to coast by without opposition, all the while raking in the dough hand over fist. …Or so they had been until now, it seemed. Because what the boys now gazed upon was a city quite unlike the factory-filled streets they had passed through earlier. “I don’t remember Hyogo bein’ like this,” said Bisco. “It wasn’t!” replied Milo. “When we came, there was so much smoke, and the streets were all metal and…you know, pipy!” The unglamorous city of Hyogo the boys remembered was a far cry from the futuristic scene laid out before them now. It was still clearly industrial, but the buildings were sleek and chrome instead of the angular monstrosities that blighted the landscape before, and the surfaces were pristine, unmarred by the black, soot-filled smoke that used to belch forth from every chimney. “It seems as if Hyogo has been almost completely restored,” muttered Red Tirol, poking her face between the two boys. “I suppose Matoba’s deep-seated crusade against mushrooms is what has led to the Rust taking effect here so quickly. There weren’t any spores to stop it.” “I wonder if there are any people left,” said Milo. “I very much doubt it,” said Red Tirol. “This area around Kobe Port Island was entirely governed by androids. It wasn’t suitable for human life.” “Ain’t no point in us stayin’ here, then,” said Bisco before sniffing the air, a sour look on his face, and spurring Actagawa on. Bisco, a child of nature, was finding it hard to stomach the acrid smell of chemicals that permeated the whole town. Milo could see in his eyes that Bisco missed the dirt roads and plant life of the countryside already. “Let’s just get outta here. Actagawa’s not likin’ it, neither.” “Wait, Bisco, look at that!” Milo pointed as Actagawa ran through the city on see-through pipes. Bisco looked to see a large and impressive factory, flying a brilliant red flag. “It’s a signal flag. Somebody needs rescuing!” “Really? Is anyone even still here?” “I see. That is where the headquarters of Matoba Heavy Industries was.” Red Tirol gazed at the building before turning to the others. “The restoration there is not yet complete. Look, it still retains a trace of its previous form. It is possible that Matoba employees could still be inside. However, from the looks of things, the piping has constricted the building quite a bit. Mayhap the people inside are simply unable to leave?” Bisco looked reluctant, but Milo snatched the reins from him and steered Actagawa toward the building. The giant crab leaped skillfully across the clear tubes, approaching the pipe-wrapped building. “Hey! What’s wrong with leavin’ a couple of Matoba employees to die? They’re the ones turnin’ animals into weapons!” “Well, you turn mushrooms into weapons. How is that better?” “Because I’m a Mushroom Keeper!” “That doesn’t make it okay!” Milo’s strong voice rang out over his partner’s. “If people are in trouble, we save them. If they turn out to be bad guys, we can deal with that afterward.” Crash! Crash! Actagawa swung his claws like a sledgehammer, tearing through the pipes and smashing a hole in the wall beyond. Out of the broken pipes spurted blasts of hot gas, covering everyone in soot. “Cough! Cough! Goddammit, what the hell is this?!” “This place is huge. This way, Actagawa!” The boys quickly entered through the hole and began exploring the strange factory. As they stepped onto a catwalk, they heard the steady Clunk! Clunk! of running machinery and looked down to see bizarre contraptions and enormous forges. They seemed to be making something here. “It may be lacking in beauty, but this is how we engineered technology in the old days. At least in terms of the interior, it seems the restoration has been compl— B-bleghh!” “T-Tirol? What’s the matter? What happened?” Red Tirol had just turned to see a diagram hanging on the wall when she began heaving uncontrollably. Milo rushed over to her side. “Did you inhale some of that gas? We have to do something!” “N-no, not at all. It simply appears that Tirol harbors some unpleasant memories of this place. When I saw the ‘payment due’ part of this blueprint, I just felt— Bleeeghh!” Suddenly Bisco, who had been scouting ahead by himself, called back to them, a strangely excitable look in his eyes. “Hey, get over here, you two,” he said. “They’re buildin’ some kinda robot in here!” He pointed to a room where several large machines spat out different parts, which combined in the center to form a humanoid figure. The completed robot was carried away on a conveyor belt, which at the same time brought in a fresh batch of scattered parts. “Is that…Tetsujin?” asked Bisco. “It looks just like it, ’cept a lot cleaner!” “Ah. That is a miniaturized version of Tetsujin, called Mokujin. It looks similar, but it is mainly used for security and deployed with police forces and the like.” “You say miniature, but that thing’s still, like, eight feet tall.” The three of them stared at the process for a while before a loud voice from above cried out over the rumbling machinery. “Hellooo! Up here! Wow, somebody finally came!” They looked up in the direction of the voice to see a man descending and ascending a complicated mess of staircases before finally arriving in front of them, breathless. “Thank the heavens. Cough! We hadn’t heard anything. I didn’t think anyone was coming.” “You’re okay now. We’re here! Are you injured?” Milo asked the man. “Wow, how very proactive of you!” he replied. “Very well, you’re hired! Welcome to the company. We’ll put you to work as soon as possible.” “…Huh?” The man had long hair and an unshaven beard, and he cheerfully handed over a business card that read, “Kobe Namari, Section Chief, Matoba R&D.” He spoke so fast that it was often hard to discern precisely what he was saying. “We’ll have to hurry through—Cough!—the explanation of Mokujin here, our latest invention. There’s so much to do and not enough hands. I-I’d prefer to have you all work on your interests, of course, but right now that’s not possible, so for the time being, you will work as my assistants and…” “W-w-wait a minute! We came here because we saw the SOS flag on the roof! Aren’t you trapped in here?” “T-trapped? What are you talking about? Cough! Why would I ever want to leave such a wondrous facility?” replied the man, coughing through the smoke, with such emotion it was clear he wasn’t lying. “It’s simply— Cough! …It’s simply unthinkable. This new, urbanized industrial complex is everything I’ve ever— Cough! …Everything I’ve ever dreamed of! There’s so much productivity here, if only I had the manpower to unlock it! That’s why I flew the distress signal! I need more people to work the machines!” “What? Because you needed more workers?” asked Milo, stupefied. “That flag’s supposed to be for emergencies! I thought this was a matter of life and death!!” “It is a matter of life and death!” replied Chief Namari, readjusting his thick spectacles. “We are scientists! If we don’t create the perfect weapons, we’ll get the sack, and then we’ll starve!” “Mokujin #7, annihilate!” Chief Namari yelled into the observation booth mic, looking down into the testing chamber. One of the Mokujin lined up there stepped forward with graceless movements and raised its arm toward the papier-mâché target at the far end of the room. “Good… Good, good, good. Cough! Very good. Now, fire!” The short and squat arm of Mokujin #7 transformed into a fearsome weapon…which, for some reason, it put to the side of its temple and fired. With a Boom! the robot’s head flew from its shoulders, ricocheting off and leaving a large crack in the tempered glass window of the observation room. “Wh-whaaahhh?!” Chief Namari completely fell off his chair in shock, and as Red Tirol kindly helped him back to his feet, she looked down at the man with a look of exasperation in her eyes. But there was still hope in the man’s gaunt face, and he gave a sigh before getting back up. “Hmm, another failure. Why do they keep self-destructing, I wonder?” “Chief Namari. From the looks of it, I’d say you haven’t slept in quite a while. Don’t you think you ought to take a rest?” “Don’t be absurd. A mere week without sleep won’t kill me. Oh dear… Akaboshi! Nekoyanagi! We’ve had another breakage in the test chamber!” “I got it already,” grumbled Bisco from down below as his supervisor’s voice rang out over the speakers. He scooped up the head in his hands as Milo scraped together the robots’ scattered and dismembered bodies. “Grrr… Why are we stuck cleanin’? That’s what the robots should be for! Milo! How long are we gonna play this guy’s game?!” “He promised us he’d evacuate once the experiments were done, so we have to. Besides…” Milo gazed at the assorted parts in his hands before continuing. “According to Tirol, this Mokujin thing is similar to what attacked us in Shikoku. Maybe we can work out its weakness while we’re at it. That would help out Pawoo, as well.” While the two boys rushed to and fro picking up pieces, Red Tirol wandered around the control room, staring fixedly at the machines on display. Then she crossed her arms and sighed, a mixture of admiration and disbelief. “I see. I did wonder how Mokujin was able to operate without a program, but it appears to be basing its movements on the behavioral patterns of biological organisms. What an astonishing twist. Something only the mankind of today could dream up…” “…Oh! Ochagama! You understand how the biological program works?” Red Tirol turned to see Chief Namari rushing over, an energy drink in his hand. “Ah, Chief. You know, Mokujin is a humanoid robot. Load it up with the behavioral patterns of bears or crabs, and it won’t even know what to do with its arms and legs. I believe that in such a case the CPU will overheat, and the robot will self-destruct in a fashion very similar to what we’re seeing here.” “Ahhh, I see. It’s a very particular machine, is it not?” “I would say that machines nowadays are simply not particular enough…” Red Tirol scratched her chin in thought before nodding and calling down to the boys, “Bisco, Milo, come up here, please.” Then she turned to Chief Namari again. “If you want this biological program to work, you’ll need a human’s behavioral patterns. That should get Mokujin functioning correctly.” “B-but, my friend, using a human as the basis for the biological program has never been attempted, much less perfected. Would not a sapient creature simply fall to the despair of being turned into a weapon, and then self-destruct in much the same way?” “Ordinarily, yes,” said Red Tirol. “But that simply means we need the behavioral patterns of a human with overwhelming determination.” She beckoned to the grumpy-looking duo who had just walked in and brought them into her arms when they came over. Then she flashed the section chief a brilliant smile. “And what do we have right here but three of the best? Chief Namari, you may extract the information you require from us.” “Okay, Mokujin: Tirol-One! Activate!” Chief Namari prodded one of the many buttons on the control panel before him, and steam began billowing out of a pink Mokujin down below. Slowly, it rose to its feet. “Tirol-One. Systems ready!” “““Ohhh!””” Bisco, Milo, and the chief all cooed in admiration. The “Tirol Program” extracted from Tirol’s blood seemed to be working perfectly. Only Red Tirol still looked skeptical. “It’s a little early for celebration,” she said. “Chief, try giving it a command.” “R-right! Tirol-One, annihilate!” “Order acknowledged,” said the robot, turning its flashlight eyes onto the target at the end of the range. “Synthetic target detected. Altitude Grade: Six. Difficulty: B.” “Wow, magnificent! It even analyzes the target’s position and structural makeup!” said the chief excitedly. “Calculations complete.” “Wonderful! Now, Tirol-One! Blast it to smithereens!” “Please submit two hundred sols to proceed.” “…What?” Upon completing its analysis, Tirol-One turned with clunking steps and held out its hand toward the control room. “Rate for this task equals two hundred sols.” Chief Namari just stared in silent amazement, while Red Tirol’s face twitched. Behind them, Bisco was rolling about on the floor, laughing his ass off, while Milo did his best to contain his amusement. “Ah-ha-ha-ha! I ain’t never heard of a robot demandin’ payment for a task! That thing’s got Tirol’s blood, all right!” “…Let’s just pay it and see what happens.” Chief Namari sighed. He pressed a few more buttons, and a mechanical arm deposited precisely two hundred sols into the robot’s palm. Tirol-One popped the coins into its mouth and immediately turned and fired its arm cannon at the target. With a Boom! the papier-mâché target was blown to pieces. Still, despite the robot’s performance, Chief Namari still looked unconvinced. “Why the long face, Chief?” asked Red Tirol. “Your experiment was a success.” “Mmm. The results are indeed impressive…b-but we can’t market a robot that asks to be paid per shot. I hate to say it, but we’ll have to shelve this one.” “Please submit twenty sols to cover ammunition costs.” “Okay, okay! C-come back to the storeroom and you’ll get your money!” “Milo Prime, ready for action.” The next Mokujin, colored sky-blue from head to toe, stood up smartly and turned to the control room. This time, Chief Namari looked far more pleased. “I hope to be of service. Your orders, sir?” “Wow, see how intelligently it speaks?! Now this is a perfect Mokujin!” Chief Namari did a little dance at the reassuring quality of the robot’s voice. Milo seemed a little excited, too, until Bisco butted in. “Hold yer horses, Chief. Try givin’ it an order first.” “V-very well. Milo Prime, annihilate!” “Understoo—” Milo Prime turned to face the target, then stopped. “Wh-what’s wrong, Milo Prime?” “I cannot complete the request.” “Wh-why not?” “It is cruel.” “Cr…?” Bisco lost his head once again, while Milo’s face lit up in embarrassment. It couldn’t have been more obvious that the robot had inherited all of the gentle doctor’s personality. “C-cruel? But, Milo Prime, your target is just scrap metal.” “Well, I am also made of metal.” “B-but…” “How would you feel if I asked you to defile a human corpse? That scrap metal was once one of my brothers. My ethical code will not allow me to destroy it. Please order me to do anything else, but not that.” Chief Namari was at a loss for words. He simply heaved a big sigh. Milo took the mic and announced, “Good work, Milo Prime. You may return to your position,” and the robot complied, falling in line with the rest of the Mokujin. “What a shame. The rest of its performance seemed so promising, as well…” “I thought he was quite agreeable,” said Milo. “We can’t program a robot weapon to have—Cough!—feelings! They’ll just get in the way of its purpose!” “Well, why does he have to be a weapon anyway?” Just as Milo was starting to get emotional against the section chief, Red Tirol stepped in to smooth things over. “Let’s not lose our heads just yet, chaps. We’ve saved the best for last,” she said, casting a glance over at Bisco, who was leaning against the wall, arms folded. “And whether you like it or not, you did agree the next one would be the last. Once we see robot Bisco’s performance, you will evacuate the building, won’t you, Chief?” “I-indeed. I made a promise, and I intend to keep it.” “Hey! Why you soundin’ so disappointed already? My robot’s gonna kick ass, you’ll see!” said Bisco, rudely marching over and plonking himself in the adjacent seat. “Don’t you worry, Captain Namari. While these asshats were stumblin’ around, I drew up the most badass robot ever!” “I-it’s Chief Namari, actually… A-and, Akaboshi…? I didn’t know you could draw schematics!” “See for yourself.” Bisco unfurled the paper in his hands, revealing the most unique style of painting Chief Namari had ever seen. The robot took up the large majority of the page, with the words “Akaboshi Mark I” written proudly above its head. “It can shoot green beams from its eyes,” Bisco explained, dead serious. “Its left arm’s a drill, and its right is a hammer. Acid blasts come out of its knees, and it can breathe fire up to a trillion degrees.” “I—I see. And what does this scarf around its neck do?” “It looks cool, obviously! What kinda question is that?” An awkward mood descended over the room. Chief Namari chose his next words carefully. “It’s certainly an…interesting design, Akaboshi. However, f-first we must ensure your blood is compatible with the original. We can make these…modifications later.” “Huh? Well, you’re the boss.” It seemed, thankfully, that Bisco was convinced by Chief Namari’s diplomatic words, and he approached the viewing window and peered down into the test chamber. “Then let’s get on with it. I ain’t gonna fail any of your tests.” H-how is he so confident…? Milo and Red Tirol looked at the oddly cooperative Bisco, at the glimmering optimism in his eyes, and then at each other. “Look at you getting all starry-eyed. You’re like a kid in a candy store, Bisco!” “Shut up. You’re about to see scientific progress at work!” “Just don’t get mad at us if it fails, okay?” “Piss off! My robot’s gonna be better than yours, just you wait and see!” “O-okay! Bring in the next Mokujin!” At Chief Namari’s words, the conveyor belt sprang into action, bringing a third robot, its body gleaming crimson, into the center of the test chamber. “Let’s see what you’ve got, Akaboshi Mark I. Activate!” Chief Namari’s voice rang out over the speaker, and seconds passed…four…five. By the count of ten, the robot still showed no sign of responding. “Failed. Told you,” said Milo. “Wait, that ain’t right!” yelled Bisco in protest. “Give it another go, Chief!” Bisco shook the man’s shoulders, and just then there was a Vwm! as the robot stirred to life and its jade-green eyes flickered on. “Ahhh! It worked!” “What?!” Bisco seemed surprised himself. “Well, how about that?! C’mon, Chief, try giving it an order!” “W-wait a second. It’s already acting on its own!” Akaboshi Mark I wandered curiously around the test chamber, turning its flashlight eyes upon anything and everything it could find. At last, it spotted a stack of black insulating sheets in a corner of the room and marched over, picking one up and ripping off a piece that it tied around its neck, a perfect imitation of the Mushroom Keeper’s signature cloak. “Ahhh! Those are expensive! Akaboshi Mark I, refrain from touching things!” “Uh-oh,” Milo muttered to himself after studying the robot’s actions. “If this robot really has inherited Bisco’s personality, then that means…!” “Return to your designated position, Akaboshi Mark I!” “Chief, no! Don’t—!” “Akaboshi Mark I! Do not disobey my commands!” As soon as it heard those words, Akaboshi Mark I got a funny look in its eyes. It turned toward the control room, its eyes lit up like floodlights. “Now it’s mad! Bisco!” “Don’t be stupid. How could a robot based on me have such a short temper?” “Look in the mirror sometime! For now, grab the chief. We have to get out of here!” The two Mushroom Keepers grabbed the others and fled from the control room, just as a heavy steel girder punched straight through the reinforced glass window. The robot had clearly inherited Bisco’s fearsome strength, too. “We should have known, Bisco!” said Milo. “There’s no way a robot based on you is ever going to follow orders!” “Dammit…! You protect the chief!” Perhaps feeling guilty for this in some way, Bisco handed over the chief, who had fainted, and leaped into the test chamber to put a stop to the rampaging robot. “If you’re gonna be representin’ my bloodline, you oughtta show a little respect!” he yelled, slipping past the fists of Akaboshi Mark I and somersaulting high overhead before bringing his bow down hard on the robot’s skull casing. The shock split it wide open, and broken wires sprang out like a head of colorful hair. However, Akaboshi Mark I was not to be disabled so easily. It delivered a spinning kick to Bisco’s stomach, its thick leg like a steel log. Though he barely managed to catch the blow on his bow, Bisco was still sent flying backward, and he skimmed along the floor of the test chamber. “Bisco!” Milo yelled. “I’m fine! Stay out of it!” Bisco shouted back. As he watched Akaboshi Mark I fly toward him, cape fluttering, Bisco drew his lizard-claw knife and coughed, a little blood from the previous attack spilling from his lips. The Rust-Eater blood fell onto his knife, causing the blade to shine golden, like the sun. “Now…!” Dodging the robot’s oncoming fist, Bisco got up close and jammed the knife into the joint at the base of its spine. Then, using the blade as a lever, he pried Akaboshi Mark I apart. As he strained, brilliant spores traveled along the blade, until with a Boom! Boom! a largish Rust-Eater mushroom tore through his foe’s steel armor plating. “Gruhhh!” The robot howled, and with all the strength it could muster, it snatched up Bisco and hurled him in Milo’s direction. However, soon after, it became clear that the damage to Akaboshi Mark I far outclassed the robot’s ability to continue, and, staggering, it collapsed against the nearest wall. “Bisco!” “I know!” Bisco drew his bow tight. At the other end of the arrow were the jade-green flashlight eyes of Akaboshi Mark I, gazing helplessly at its own imminent destruction. “…” Fwp! Gaboom! The Rust-Eater arrow tore through the thick walls of the test chamber, flooding the dingy room with the light of the outside world. Looking out at the clear blue sky beyond, Akaboshi Mark I suddenly let out a yell of renewed vigor before leaping across the mushroom caps to freedom. “Aaah! Bisco?! What are you doing?” “I missed.” “Whaaat?!” “My hand slipped.” There wasn’t much more Milo could say to that. He knew, of course, that Bisco’s words were a lie, but felt it uncouth to pry any further into his partner’s motivations, and so he remained silent. “U…urgh… I’m doomed… Someone, please…carry on my research…” “Chief Namari, you’ll be fine. I’ll just—” While Milo fished his medical instruments from his pocket, there was a Clank! Clank! noise as the sky-blue body of one of the other Mokujin jogged over and stood above the chief’s fallen body. “This is bad. I will patch you up immediately. Do not worry. Everything will be okay.” “M-Milo Prime?!” As the others watched on in amazement, Milo Prime retrieved its tools one by one from inside its mouth and treated the chief’s wounds with astonishing efficiency. In no time at all, the robot was already finishing off the stitches. “Is it still painful?” “N-no…,” the chief replied. “Not at all. Thank you, Milo Prime!” “It is my pleasure to serve. I only did what was expected of me.” The sky-blue robot turned its lumbering frame around and returned to its position. Milo and the others watched it go, mouths agape. “It took my job. That thing is amazing!” But Red Tirol sighed. “Unfortunately, Chief, it seems this experiment was another—” “Success! The experiment was a success!” the chief cried, overjoyed. He ran over to Milo and shook his hand up and down as hard as he could before embracing the bewildered boy in a hug. “There’s never been a robot with that kind of medical prowess, even in the old days! I thank you from the bottom of my heart, Dr. Nekoyanagi! This invention is going to change the world!” “Erkkk! Chief! Please…that’s too tight…! And you reek of sweat!” “Still, are you really fine with that, Chief? That robot don’t even got the balls to take out a target dummy. You really gonna sell that as a weapon?” “O-of course, my dear boy! M-medical technology sells well in times of peace or war! Cough! In fact, don’t you think there’s something magical about a robot that can do more than simply destroy?” Just then, Chief Namari seemed to remember something, and he started fishing around in a pouch at his waist before picking out a large bundle of sols and pushing them into Milo’s pockets. “I’m afraid two million is all I have on me,” he said. “B-but I’ll give you five percent of the monthly take once it goes on sale! Now, I have to gather the rest of the team and begin production at once. Busy, busy, so busy… But we’ve just made a giant leap into the future of mankind!” “So, in the end, they all stayed there…,” said Milo, sighing as Actagawa took them away from the factory along one of the see-through pipes. “I’m a little disappointed… We went there to get them out, but only ended up convincing them to stay even longer.” “Meh…? Who cares?” replied Bisco. “This freakish city must just seem like heaven to them, I guess.” “I believe Bisco has the right idea. This is probably their kind of place. Besides, they are helping humanity, in their own way. Imagine the lives that Milo robot could save if it caught on!” “I guess… I don’t know…” Still not quite convinced, Milo left the reins to his partner and looked out over the horizon. There, his eyes fell upon a pair of jade-green flashlights. “…Ahhh! It’s Akaboshi Mark I!” Atop a pipe stretching far above the ground stood the red-bodied Mokujin, observing the group, his black cape fluttering majestically in the wind. The cables sprouting from his head stood tall and proud, just like the hair of the man himself. “Bisco, look! Are you sure you want to let him go?” “I ain’t seen a goddamn thing.” “Oh, Bisco! You like him, don’t you? Who knew the Man-Eating Redcap could be so kind?” “Oh, go chew on some bamboo, asshole!” The floodlight eyes of Akaboshi Mark I followed the crab until it was out of sight, at which point the robot swished its cloak and took off to wherever its fancy led.