“Doctor,” she said firmly.
“Yes?” Mephisto said, leaning forward slightly. This was the Mephisto the patients in his hospital knew. The calm smiling countenance that even those suffering from the most severe of mental disorders would, very much despite themselves, react to with their own expressions of calm and relief.
Those same reassuring currents filled her own heart. “Um, nothing.” She shook her head. She wanted to ask whether he knew about the relationship between her and that woman, or if he was just keeping quiet about it.
But it didn’t much matter at this point. To this doctor, human doubt and worry was a world away.
Sayaka opened the lid of the vial and drank down its contents.
At the same time, Chief Dai Yamashina of the World Federation Government Information Bureau, Japan section, received—with a raised eyebrow—an unannounced, undisclosed visit from the mayor of Shinjuku and the assistant energy comptroller.
They met in a conference room reserved for such occasions. On the table between them was a holographic display of the materials the visitors from Shinjuku had brought with them.
“I am familiar with the data,” said the Section Chief, hiding his qualms with a smile. “What shall we do about it?”
“Let’s not play dumb,” the mayor said impatiently, thumping a big fist on the table, making the holographic waver.
The assistant comptroller jumped to his feet. “You may only be a chief in the World Federation Government Information Bureau, but you have been nominated for the top post in the past. There’s no way you wouldn’t know what this data means at a glance!”
“Well, then,” the Section Chief said, in a deeply troubled manner, his graceful features darkening.
“In any number of ways, the ordinary rules of government in the neighboring wards don’t apply in Shinjuku. Illegal espers, cyborgs, assassins, spies from every corner of the world make their nests here. Fine. Let’s get down to business. Over these last five days, active energy levels have soared five times. Five times the normal amount of energy is spilling onto the streets of Demon City, of Shinjuku. Even a child would understand the implications!”
“I don’t know. Abilities vary so widely when it comes to children,” said the Section Chief, intent on playing the straight man to the end.
The mayor was mad enough to spit. He was going out on a limb with such an important official in the World Federation government. But there was no way anyone could carry off the duties of Demon City mayor without a few pints of piss and vinegar flowing through his veins.
The kind of people who showed up at city hall weren’t just law-abiding citizens, but gangsters looking to launder their ill-gotten gains, drifters and grifters and cyborgs with fake green cards demanding the rights of legitimate residents, and so on and so on.
Turn them away politely, the usual threats and blusters, and if push came to shove, using all means necessary, up to and including overwhelming force—these were the mayor’s minimal conditions.
The first mayor had thrown down with three killer robots hired by an organized crime family, got badly hurt in the exchange, and resigned. When the first lady of a particular world power opined in an unguarded moment that Demon City was a blot on the natural beauty of Japan, his replacement knocked her flat, in the process felling the president and his press secretary like tenpins. He was out too.
The third and current mayor was rumored to swear blood oaths with his city managers while puffing on a cigar in an underground bunker surrounded by high explosives. At least that was the reputation he’d fostered. In the end, the prime minister gave his predecessor a covert pat on the back and rewarded him with a hefty ministerial portfolio.
“Do you understand what we’re talking about? These numbers don’t refer to the energy output of the local industry—the large-scale greenhouses, the synthetic food processors, the illegal arms manufacturers and the rest. The energy generated by human activity, all the inertia arising out of mass transit, the states of organic and inorganic matter, the sum total of energies emanated in all forms living and dead—the energy balance of Shinjuku in toto. That has risen five fold. Five hundred percent. What in the world could account for this expansion?”
“Um—?” The assistant comptroller poked his cucumber-like face into the mayor’s tirade. “Though the total energy output has increased, the sources and composition of the life energies, inertial energies and projected latent energies haven’t changed. It’s as if an energy radiating device suddenly appeared in Shinjuku five days ago.”
“I could live with that.” The mayor frowned and took a cigar from his pocket and stuck it in his mouth. “Hey, a light. Forget the editorializing just now. Only my assistant’s opinion. Not officially shared by the ward government. Our theory is, it’s a catalytic phenomenon, not some other energy source that sprang into being. Demon City itself is exacerbating the increase, catalyzing it and sending it sky high at a whack.”
“But even in the case of Demon City, whatever the nature of this energy, the sources you mentioned don’t exceed the sum total. If the separate energy increases zero out, it’s not physically possible for the totals to increase, no matter what the catalyst.”
“It’s right here in the figures,” the mayor said with a triumphant expression.
“But then where do you imagine this impossible five-fold increase came from?”
Section Chief Yamashina looked into the mayor’s eyes. The mayor’s face twitched. He knew the man wasn’t posing the question as a simple formality. The assistant comptroller gulped down his tea and yelped upon scalding his lip.
“We—” the mayor started to say, when a warning buzzer of some sort interrupted him.
“What is it?” Yamashina asked, turning to an invisible microphone.
What looked like an underling wearing sunglasses appeared in the holograph on the table. “We just received an emergency communication from the Shinjuku Disaster Management Center. Their sensors forecast an earthquake directly beneath us that matches the one that destroyed Shinjuku.”