Chapter 7

EPILOGUE The structural-genetic-field-resistant polymer covering JR Fukuoka’s Straits base had long surpassed the designer’s intended lifespan. The parts where it was broken and cracked expanded from sunlight, making it look like the entire base was in the shade of a leafy tree. There were two reasons they hadn’t put up the budget for polymer replacement. One, the necessity of keeping up the strait’s defense was falling year after year, and two, a critical project was in motion that was consuming all the money. “Here’s the state of the tumor right now,” said Okuma from the intelligence division, pointing to a tabletop map in a meeting room in the base. The rank badge he wore on his chest showed that he had far outpaced anyone else who’d entered the company at the same time he had. It was also a sign of how the power balance inside the company had shifted over the last five years in favor of the intelligence division—particularly Okuma’s branch, Suikanet monitoring, which had grown much more important. “It is expanding in a roughly concentric fashion. The broadening speed is not uniform, so I can’t be entirely positive, but it should reach the sea somewhere between a month to half a year.” The map showed the island of Honshu covered in a network of lines representing the communication status of Suikanet. There was a black hole centered around the Kiso Mountains. “So Suikanet will soon be split between east and west?” inquired Kawakami, who was now general commander of the military division. “Yes. In fact, they can barely communicate between east and west already. You’re lucky if half of the data you send makes it across, it seems.” “I see. Then we’ll be putting this into use soon,” Kawakami replied, displaying a digital cover page for something titled Project Yatagarasu and showing it to Okuma. It was named after a mythological crow who led an ancient king from Kyushu to attack the center of Japan and establish the first Japanese government. “The company president has issued a decree. As soon as the split has been confirmed complete, we will begin an invasion of Yokohama Station.” “Ahh, so we’re going in at last?” “According to the quaternary survey team’s reports, the interior of the tumor is already split between several warring factions. It was leadership’s decision not to get involved until the chaos has settled down somewhat. The approval has finally come down.” Yokohama Station’s “tumor” was the nickname for an anomaly that had arisen in the center of Honshu five years prior, characterized by disrupted Suikanet coverage, loss of populace control by the automated turnstiles, and some crumbling of structures. While its cause remained unknown, it had been steadily spreading. At present, the entire Chubu region of central Japan was covered by the tumor. Short-term, localized disasters in Yokohama Station caused by earthquakes and eruptions had been observed before, but everyone trusted that any damaged area would be rebuilt after the destruction. However, in all the recorded history of Yokohama Station, nothing had ever happened that lasted this long and spread so far. Because the automated turnstiles had stopped performing Suika verification, JR Fukuoka sent some survey teams into the tumor. Their reports made it clear that things within were just as chaotic and dangerous as on Shikoku. Even though violence had been thoroughly under control in Yokohama Station, numerous armed factions arose like garden bugs from an overturned stone as soon as the turnstiles stopped policing things. Now, a few years after the initial chaos, the Chubu region was currently controlled by a few different powers. There were the station staffers who’d been steadily stockpiling black-market weapons; bandits who’d made their home in the mountains; and non-Suika holders who’d appeared from the sea. “You don’t think we’ve waited too long, to where they all band together and form a force that can fight back against us, do you?” “Not a problem. At best, they’re outfitted with outdated guns. We’ve been fighting Yokohama Station for decades. We have real firepower.” Okuma and Kawakami knew that many of the weapons circulating Inside had been brought there by JR Fukuoka deserters. The best anyone in the station had was likely just some anti-personnel gun used for maintaining peace and order on Kyushu, however. The real military power—armaments that could destroy Yokohama Station and its structural genetic field—were kept under strict supervision where no disgruntled rank-and-file soldier could reach them. “I see. So if anyone actually represents a potential threat to us, it would be the people in the north,” remarked Okuma, pointing at the top of the map. “Yes. That’s another reason to wait for the net to split. In terms of information technology, JR North Japan is beyond even us. With Suikanet still whole, they could very likely have eyes on everything we’re doing.” Okuma knew that better than anyone. JR North Japan had probably succeeded at deciphering the station’s description language. If they could read even a part of the JR Integrated Intelligence’s knowledge, there was no predicting what kind of actions they could take in the future. “What’s the possibility that they become a threat?” “Completely unknown. Of course, there’s a chance we could work together to plant a unified JR flag in the middle of Yokohama Station. We were originally one national enterprise, after all. But there are almost no historical examples of organizations that fused back together equally after being separated for a long time. That’s all I can say at the moment,” Kawakami explained. Okuma sighed and reached into a paper bag for some sugar-coated noodles, then washed them down with tea. The polymer’s chemical smell had softened in the last few years, but it was still baffling to Kawakami that the other man could constantly be eating in such a dirty and unappetizing place. “We intend to dispatch many members of the intelligence division in our invasion of the station. You’ve been suggested as a possible leader. What do you think?” Kawakami inquired. “Why, that would be quite an honor. I’ll admit that I’m very curious to see the nature of this thing up close,” said Okuma, pointing at the tumor with his teaspoon. “But I’m afraid I must decline. I enjoy using my mind more than my body. If you ever figure out the reason why, I’d love to hear it.” When the Suikanet communications aberration started, the first possible explanation JR Fukuoka postulated was intentional sabotage by Insiders. They knew about a group called the Dodger Alliance, which had at one time been in total control of Suikanet around Kyoto and had even managed to rein in the automated turnstiles to a degree. Their control of the network had abruptly ended at one point, however, and the group’s fate was unknown. JR Fukuoka concluded that a faction seeking to control Suikanet would not choose to destroy it, so that theory fell out of favor. Next, naturally, they presumed it was an attack by JR North Japan. According to reports, they’d already put a means of eliminating the structural genetic field into practical use, so the north might have orchestrated some kind of attack in the center of Yokohama Station. JR North Japan had previously only ever shown an interest in defending the Seikan Tunnel to Hokkaido. For them to be deemed the culprit, there would have to be signs of JR North Japan military presence in the growing tumor. There was no such evidence. Many other theories abounded, but in the end, they all fell apart because of a lack of motive to destroy Yokohama Station itself. Ultimately, JR Fukuoka was left to conclude that the tumor had not been the result of intentional action but was instead the product of an accident or perhaps just natural degradation. Okuma had his own ideas, of course. Toshiru Kubo from the engineering division had vanished five years ago, and the tumor first manifested several months after that. Toshiru had said he was going to Shikoku, but there was no trace of him beyond that point. Maybe he’d had something to do with it. Toshiru was the type of man who would’ve done such a thing without blinking. Okuma could imagine him returning and, without meeting Okuma’s eyes, admitting, “It was disgusting, so I went and destroyed the station.” “Well, you’re not going to move up any further staying here. Yokohama Station’s only going to keep shrinking. There’s no telling how much longer the net across the strait will continue to function. Your expertise is in analyzing Suikanet. You’re going to be very bored soon,” Kawakami warned. Okuma just snorted. “The intelligence division doesn’t have the final say on anything, so I’m not interested in small-time advancement. No matter what kind of success we achieve, the higher-ups will attribute it to the military in the end. They’re all warfare nerds, that’s why. Besides, I have something else to do.” Okuma glanced at the southeast portion of the map—to the outline of the Eurasian continent’s eastern coastline. Kawakami knew that many of the younger members of JR Fukuoka were interested in the “mainland” and that Okuma was gaining their support. JR Fukuoka company rules forbade overseas travel. Last year, a few in the military division had devised an unauthorized plan to cross the ocean. The scheme had been outed, and those responsible had suffered the consequences. There were still several so-called “Continentalist” factions lurking beneath the surface, however. The end of Yokohama Station was coming. When that first became clear, most people in JR Fukuoka proposed taking over Honshu. A minority argued the opposite, that this was an opportunity to seek new fortunes across the sea. A researcher in the engineering division called Yokohama Station a “human cultivation apparatus.” Thanks to its controlled matter and energy loop, it supported a population density that was probably higher than anywhere else on Earth. It was a standard that could not be met elsewhere now that fossil fuels had been depleted. Once Yokohama Station collapsed entirely, the islands of Japan would be unable to support the population. Many of them would die as conditions worsened, but some of those overflowing masses would be making their way overseas. The east Eurasian coast was left largely uninhabitable during the Winter War. However, there wasn’t enough reliable data to know how much the soil had recovered in the centuries since. Rumors said that a great migration across the continent from farther inland had already begun. If the inhabitants of the Japanese islands were going to emigrate, they would need to act quickly and seize the initiative. JR Fukuoka officially disavowed the interest in the continent, though, seeing it as an abandonment of its duty to protect civilians from the corruption of Yokohama Station. Institutional fatigue. That was how Okuma described the attitude of the company’s upper echelon. They’d been fighting Yokohama Station for so long, their organization had been streamlined for a single purpose and had become incapable of seeing things from any other perspective. If Yokohama Station ever truly fell, JR Fukuoka would lose its entire reason for existing. “People grow old and die, and so will Yokohama Station. The same can be said of our faction. But my point is, while you’re alive, you ought to do the work of setting up the transition to the next generation,” Okuma stated. He dug into the bag of sugary treats and found they were all gone. Okuma excused himself and left the base. Dusk had arrived outside. The white concrete of Yokohama Station across the strait glowed red in the light of the setting sun. Even as its opponent, Okuma had to admire the glory of it. There’d hardly been any attempts to fire over hallways in the last few years. The aging that had begun with the tumor seemed to affect the structure’s outer edges as well. Even the concrete metabolism was slowing down; there were visible stains of decline here and there. Yokohama Station’s visual degradation matched the state of JR Fukuoka’s own base, where the structural-genetic-field-resistant polymer was cracking and falling apart. Both sides had grown to resemble each other over the course of their long battle. Perhaps they’ll die out together, Okuma thought. In the meantime, the sun slowly sank over toward the horizon and the continent beyond it.