Washu’s vision blurred. To add insult to injury, a tear rolled down her cheek. “I’m so sleepy…” she mumbled, stifling a yawn. The week had been full of farewell parties, and the last day was spent saying goodbye to the people she had grown to know at the orphanage. After she patiently comforted the crying children and put them to bed, she listened to the director’s stories—which all began with, “And we won’t see this anymore,” until the wee hours. She ended up coming aboard without sleeping a wink.
“I mustn’t sleep.” These were first-class accommodations, which Washu normally would never have a chance to see. She would take full advantage of the service and meals, no matter how tired she was. The in-flight meal was, indeed, mouth-wateringly delicious. “I feel like a country hick on a jaunt to the city… Well, it’s the truth, at least!” She laughed wryly and then ordered seconds.
The incident that foreshadowed the rest of Washu’s life happened a day after she transferred from the shuttle to the interstellar ferry. It started with a trivial matter, which might have easily been overlooked. Washu had taken a nap that compensated for her sleep-deprived state and, as usual, was collecting data until the wee hours, ship time.
She was accessing the ship’s computers out of curiosity. Those in the Department of Philosophy were allowed access to the depths of the computers of Jurai’s public or state-owned enterprises. Since Washu had not officially enrolled yet, accessing that information was illegal. However, considering the length of the journey to the Academy, it would be impossible to assemble a case in time, and she would only be scolded for a few hours.
“It’s brilliant. What a beautiful program.” Staring at the 3D projection that allowed her to see an extracted program in three dimensions, she sighed in admiration. The programs intricately overlapped each other, emitting a diamond-like light. “Heh…so this is Professor Ikuma’s work, after all. Then it should be around here.” She found a little doodle in the program—the one drawn by a child.
Besides her curiosity, Washu had accessed the ship’s computer for another reason: her own work was being used there. “Here it is.” One fragment of the giant program displayed in 3D was hers. The fragment was insignificant in size, but it was not something a student would usually be allowed to do before enrollment.
Are they teasing me? Or appeasing me? Even if this was genuine, could what I worked on really be usable in the real world? She had been anxious when she sent it to Prof. Ikuma. Seeing her work actually in use was a relief, and it made her enrollment in the Department of Philosophy finally feel real.
“Hm?” Checking the ship’s navigational program, she noticed a slight difference in the program and route data. Just then, in the room’s dim interior, the flowers she got from the children emitted a faint light without being touched.
Washu moved reflexively. Without time to think, she instantly activated a program.
Please work! She looked hopefully at the monitor. The small amount of time before she got results felt like hours. Within a few seconds, the light in the case faded, and the original darkness returned.
“I was so careless…!” she spat and began to analyze the data on her monitor. Someone had unleashed a virus to alter the memory of the nanomachine security system distributed in the air of the ship. The flowers had lit up in reaction to the slight static electricity generated as the nanomachines bumped into each other. “What did they do? What were they trying to do?!”
The nano-security system had stringent, multilayer precautionary measures, and program-altering viruses were expunged immediately. Even infected, there would be no desired effect without disabling about 94% of the precautionary measures. Logically, rewriting the program was impossible, so this attack itself seemed meaningless. But Washu felt certain. She furiously tapped the keys, searching the ship’s data, but there was too much. She did not have time to find what she was looking for.
“I can’t believe it. Is this what I amount to? I’m about to enroll in the Imperial Academy!” The sound and speed of the keys grew in proportion to her irritation. In contrast to her impatience, nothing but error messages were displayed on the monitor. “It’s no use…”
Just as Washu was about to give up, an odd icon popped up around the error messages, as if it had anticipated this moment. It began to move in a funny little dance. Ikuma’s icon. “The Professor? Oh!” She looked at the still-activated 3D program. Watching the beautiful, three-dimensional projection glitter like a jewel, she remembered his words.
A program is like a picture. Some people may not agree, but I think a program is the same as a piece of art. You can recognize a good one by looking at it. See, giving them physical shape makes it easier to perceive the programmer’s thoughts and emotions.
“…?!” As Washu stared at the 3D program, something did not feel right. “There?” Making a more detailed search of the location, she found a hidden domain. She did not have conclusive evidence, but she was confident. She promptly went to work, and in a few seconds, had an answer.
“Oh, good. It looks like it’s only a powerful paralysis program. Against this powerful nano-security system, it didn’t have the capacity to issue multiple commands.” Whoever unleashed the paralysis program probably had business with someone aboard the ship. They did not intend to kill. “I better make an antibody program, or it’ll affect bodily functions.” Washu was already creating the antibody program as she talked. Since she had the original data, it should not take long.
Beep beep. Another window monitor sounded an alarm. “Now what?” The hidden domain was manipulating data in the external terminals. Since she was prioritizing working on the antibody program, Washu had not yet removed it, but had directly connected the external terminal to her machine.
“The navigational program… it’s out of control?!” The monitor informed her that this ship would exit the hyperspace drive into normal space in ten to twenty minutes—directly into the path of a star. “They’re making it look like an accident?!”
That was not all. The medical monitors had detected someone besides Washu moving on the ship. “Bio-signature movement detected.” Nobody should be moving. It had to be the person who set this up.
The reading was getting stronger. The individual was moving closer to Washu’s room.
The dark shadow opened the door as if it belonged in the room, supremely confident about its scheme. It slowly crept towards the lump under the bedclothes. Washu did not move. The dark shadow reached out and ripped the covers off. However, the bed contained nothing but the “sleeping” dummy Washu had hurriedly constructed. A force field instantly bound the intruder.
“Whoa!!” The dark shadow, caught off guard, was all too easily captured.
Washu, camouflaged with false data, jumped out from behind the sofa. “Y-you?!”
Illuminated by the room light was the security officer she knew. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from the Philosophy Department… Washu-chan.” The officer’s unexpectedly calm expression made Washu slightly anxious. However, pressed for time, she resumed her work on the antibody program as she interrogated him. “Why?”
“If you’re asking why I did this, it’s because I’m a spy, sent by the Shank Guild. Now, why were you targeted? It’s because you’ve been admitted to the Philosophy Department. Because you have the ability to see through and confront our scheme all on your own.”
At the man’s forthright answer, the alarm within Washu rang louder and louder. “What were you going to do? Brainwash me?”
“To send you to the Academy as a spy? That’s rather naive. We’ve got something similar to the Academy of our own. There’s not much value in the facilities themselves. What’s more valuable is talent. Jurai feels the same. You know the special treatment you’re getting.”
“You want to scout me?”
“That’s right. We’ve known each other a long time, and I don’t want to be rough. I liked the people in that town.” In contrast to his smiling demeanor, he turned an icy stare towards Washu. Something would happen to the town if she did not do as he demanded.
Is this a bluff…? She scanned his face to read him.
“You think I’m bluffing. It’s possible, of course, but isn’t the fact of my presence here enough?” He looked at her with a faint smile.
“But your wife and son are there.”
“And they won’t have to die if you come with me, Washu-chan.”
“The same thing will happen if you don’t do this.” She sensed no emotion towards his family in his words. But Washu remained fixated on the slight sentiment within him. Or, more precisely, she wanted to grasp at it. Otherwise, it would be too cruel to those two who loved him.
However, the man’s answer was ruthless. “They were excellent tools. Once I achieved my goal to capture you, I was going to reward them with their lives.”
Washu’s fingers paused typing. “What did you do to that town?”
“Unh?!” At Washu’s complete change to emotionless calm, the man showed bewilderment for the first time. He would not waver in the face of angry threats, but her total absence of expression—something that could not be expressed in words—struck him with fear…even dread.
“What did you do?” Washu repeated.