“Did you—”
Before Toshihiko could ask if the model had been based on photos in the news, his friend cut him off.
“Nope, this was all reconstructed from one of his hairs. They requested my process specifically, so I figured it was time to give it a try. As you can see, the results speak for themselves. They were even able to arrest him.”
“This is… Well, it’s perfect…”
Miyoshi wouldn’t lie about something like this. He really had developed a revolutionary new system. Ever since their college days, Toshihiko had always known this man was a genius. They’d been in a pretty elite environment to begin with, but Miyoshi still stood out from the crowd. He hadn’t even finished school yet when he had his first article published in Cell, a renowned academic journal dealing with life sciences. He’d also gone on a government-funded research trip visiting different facilities around the world.
There was no room to suspect these results as anything other than genuine. Even so, Toshihiko found it all a little overwhelming. Technology of this level felt as if it was bordering on supernatural. However, he’d come to Miyoshi for this exact kind of scientific expertise in the first place. His friend clearly had connections with law enforcement now—maybe he could reference the data of past offenders or at least tell Toshihiko the culprit’s age or gender. This went so far beyond his expectations.
A common theme in sci-fi stories and anti-science Christian rhetoric was the idea of a “Genetic Surveillance Society.” This was a society in which genetics were so well understood that future generations could be tailor-made to exact specifications. From there, it was a slippery slope until genetically-enhanced “Valids” would emerge to rule over all aspects of society.
Toshihiko had always thought of such a scenario as pure fiction. But looking at the image on the screen again, he began to wonder if it might actually come to pass in the not so distant future.
Miyoshi had been looking at Toshihiko the whole time like a child showing off a new toy. Finally, he spoke up again.
“Just to be clear, I need you to keep this strictly between us. It’s still in the experimental phase. I know you’re not the type to go blabbing to people, but this is a highly classified project. It’s important the media doesn’t get wind of it. It’s almost perfect already, but we’re still working out some kinks, you know?”
The model of Zimbalist smiled. It was the same creepy smile he’d shown on the news when he was taken in. What part of this was only “almost” perfect?
“I think I’ve showed off enough for one day. Let’s see what we can do about your problem.”
“Thanks.”
How did Miyoshi maintain that sweet and innocent nature despite such amazing achievements? Toshihiko was a little awestruck. He took out a zip-sealed plastic bag from the paper bag he was carrying. Inside it was the telltale menstrual pad.
“You did warn me about it, but it’s still pretty creepy.”
Miyoshi’s expression didn’t change in the slightest. He used a pair of tweezers to remove the pad, filling the air with that distinctive metallic bloody smell. There was also a rotting odor that penetrated right through Toshihiko’s mask and made him want to hurl. If Miyoshi was affected, he didn’t let it show on his face.
“Hmm… With a sample this old, it could be difficult,” he said, putting it into a plastic bag of his own.
“I’m sorry. You’re the only one I can trust with this.”
“No need to apologize. I’ll see what I can do. But I’m going to need time. Like I said, this’ll be difficult, and no offense, but I have a lot on my plate already. I’ll need to prioritize other stuff.”
“Now who’s apologizing for no reason? I should be thanking you for letting me use this amazing technology.”
“It’s fine. I’m just happy you got back in touch after all this time. That’s payment enough for me.”
Miyoshi gave him a couple of light slaps on the shoulder. Toshihiko didn’t really watch horror movies anymore or go to screenings. He never would have gotten back in touch with Miyoshi if their interests hadn’t aligned that one time.
Although technically, it was Miyoshi who’d reached out to him. Two years Toshihiko’s senior, he was an accomplished young academic with an athletic build, and there wasn’t a student on campus who didn’t know him by sight. Toshihiko was no exception, but he’d never expected such a superstar to talk to him. Even with his own incredible looks, he saw Miyoshi as someone outside the bounds of conventional beauty standards. Toshihiko felt like a pebble on the roadside next to him. When he’d told Miyoshi that after the movie, the man had laughed uproariously. He had a surprisingly low voice.
“I don’t think there’s a single person on this earth who wouldn’t take notice of you, Katayama.”
Before Toshihiko could think of an answer, Miyoshi had patted him on the shoulder and added, “Well, let’s try to get along from here on, one outcast to another.”
True to his word, Miyoshi had kept up contact. If there was some horror-related event going on, he would always invite Toshihiko to it. He’d even been able to pull some strings and get the two of them into places the general public weren’t usually allowed.
Toshihiko hadn’t really done anything in return. He sometimes ignored Miyoshi’s messages for months at a time if he wasn’t in the mood to talk. And yet here he was, asking to make use of Miyoshi’s professional expertise out of the blue. He felt a surge of guilt and lowered his head in a formal bow.
“Sorry. I really am grateful for everything.”
“I’m telling you, you’re making too much of it.”
After bowing several more times, Toshihiko left the lab. The moment he stepped out of the building, he felt it. A cold chill ran down his back. That gaze again, as clingy as menstrual blood on a menstrual pad. He spun around, but there was no one there. The gaze also disappeared. Toshihiko knew this feeling of being watched wasn’t just his paranoia at work, but maybe this time, he had only been imagining it. He hadn’t done much besides listen to Miyoshi ramble, but he felt exhausted. He decided to head home and go to bed early.