Pandion (Genera #1)

Chapter 11

A young woman in EA’s customary blue-and-white work uniform retrieved Harumine from the entrance and led him through the quiet office building.

The woman reminded him of a stewardess or a lift attendant, but something hinted this was not going to be an enjoyable ride. She escorted him to a security gate and instructed him to take a seat back towards an examination desk. Once he’d sat down, she adjusted a tool tray into place behind Harumine’s head.

“This is standard procedure,” she said and, by the irksome sounds of it, donned a pair of disposable gloves right by Harumine’s ear. “It may cause slight mental discomfort, but it shouldn’t hurt.” She attached something to Harumine’s port. A disconcerting squeaky hiss startled him as it slotted into place.

“Oh, almost forgot, you’ll need to sign this.” She handed him a tablet, seemingly unconcerned that he had neither the time or the frame of mind to read it through carefully. “If you could please sign it quickly as we are running slightly behind schedule.”

Harumine was tempted to take a few minutes extra to read the damn thing but refrained because he’d arrived on the dot instead of the expected polite minimum of ten minutes early.

“The device will cut your communication with your organism for the duration of the review,” she explained. “It can momentarily feel distressing, but it’s temporary.”

Harumine flicked out his seal, pressed the e-sign button to sign the document and handed the tablet back to the woman in one smooth motion. She seemed to do a final check that everything was in order before she flipped a switch.

Any trace of Kagesawa within Harumine’s consciousness vanished in an instant. He could tell the tendrils of his organism were still there, alive and well, but none of them activated when he tried to project. It was indeed a supremely unwelcome feeling. The lack of response made the organism feel more distinctly like a separate entity.

“This way, please.” The woman guided him through a corridor and to a set of lifts. Harumine entered a lift, and she sent him up to the third floor by swiping a keycard.

The doors opened up to another corridor. Harumine stepped out and waited. There were no seats here, only doors with numbers on them. The silence was worse with no access to his link. It had been years since he’d felt this alone inside his head.

The click of a lock and a door opened somewhere down the hall. Harumine waited.

Two men in suits exited the room, one of them leaving in the opposite direction, the other turning towards Harumine.

“Harumine-san. This way, please.” The man held the door open for him. Harumine hurried to slink through into what was a small office with some obscure medical equipment in it. “Take a seat.”

It was another seat with a suspiciously neck-height adjustable tray behind it. The other man returned with a set of instruments and arranged them on the tray behind the seat they’d so kindly prepared for Harumine.

Harumine cringed but sat down. The lighting in this room had that slightly irritating, almost undetectable flicker to it. It made Harumine feel ill. Was it coincidental or an intentional tactic to make him uncomfortable? If the latter, they’d for sure succeeded. In fact, a little less would have been enough.

“My colleague here will perform a few checks on your port. Nothing to worry about.” The first man took a seat behind a desk and pulled out a stack of forms from one of the drawers.

Were they also going to torture him by making him fill out forms? He’d sensed something unpleasant was about to happen, but bureaucracy? He felt chills.

Revert to initial settings. Code seven dash five, project ID: Pandion.

Harumine jumped in his seat. “What was that?”

“That’s where it cuts off,” the man behind him said. The man at the desk frowned and looked at his screen.

“Strange,” he mumbled.

“Excuse me, but what the hell was that?!” Harumine had just heard a projection coming from somewhere and it wasn’t himself or Kagesawa. He wasn’t even supposed to be connected to anything.

“Ah.” The man at the desk seemed to be looking at the person behind Harumine. That they hadn’t even bothered to introduce themselves made the corner of Harumine’s eye twitch from squinting so hard. “It’s just feedback from the plugin.”

“What plugin?” Harumine gripped the handles of his chair, resisting the urge to turn around and question the man meddling with his port behind his head. The two of them seemed to be communicating something back and forth—empaths likely linked.

The man at the desk sighed.

“It’s of no consequence now. My colleague will remove it from your port.”

“Why is there a plugin in my port? What is it for?” Harumine hadn’t noticed anything during his last diagnostic check. The SEU had a strict policy of not installing any extra files into the port because it was shameful to rely on enhancements when you’d been provided the best training in the country. How the hell had some random plugin ended up in Harumine’s port?

“The head supervisor will explain this to you once we are done here.” The man at the desk seemed to resume something on his BCI. An occasional glance at his colleague hinted at a conversation Harumine wasn’t privy to. The silence was really getting on his nerves.

The man behind him moved the tray away and left the room. The man at the desk glanced at Harumine, but he, too, walked out of the room without another word.

A soundless wall clock seemed as if stuck. The tendrils inside Harumine’s head felt like a parasite slowly feeding on him. He knew it sucked its energy from him. It made him just a little more hungry and a little more tired than the average person unless he took good care of himself. It was what it had done for almost seven years now. But only now did it feel abnormal.

The door opened, and a woman walked in.

“Pardon me, Harumine-san. The head supervisor is unavailable today. My name is Kaneda Yuki.” She offered him her hand to shake but seemed too preoccupied to actually shake it properly. “I need you to fill these forms for me.”

Were they really going to torture him to death by making him fill out forms?

“There’s a plugin. They mentioned a plugin,” Harumine tried to steer her to the topic.

“Yes. We had a data gathering plugin installed on your port as part of—” She pursed her lips and thrust a tablet into his hands. “Please sign here first.”

Harumine scrambled the seal out of his pocket again and hurried to sign what seemed like a non disclosure agreement. Did they even need that when they already held Harumine’s future in their hands? But she seemed satisfied.

“We had that plugin installed as part of our investigation into Kagesawa Tsuyoshi. We cannot reveal the details to you at this time, but rest assured you are at no risk—health, career or otherwise—during this investigation.”

Not at risk?! That plugin must have been what had caused all the issues with the link! The trash codes. The insane feedback loop. If that thing hadn’t amplified the feedback like crazy, maybe he and Kagesawa wouldn’t have done half the things they’d done—!

“What is it for? What did he do?” The least they could do was explain what all of this had been for.

“We cannot disclose that information to you at this time. We have removed the plugin and apologise for any inconvenience. We will contact you for a reinstall—”

The hell you will! Harumine shot up to stand but held his tongue. She looked at him, surprised. Technically the EA could do whatever the hell they wanted unless he wanted to switch careers entirely. “When?” he asked.

“Because this plugin failed, we will have to troubleshoot the issue, and some modifications will have to be made. That could take a while. But don’t worry. We will give you full compensation for your troubles as well as amend your record once this is done.” When Harumine said nothing, the woman lifted her brow and added, “Really, there is no hurry. You can resume your life as normal for the time being. He is not classed as a safety risk to you.”

The hell he isn’t. Harumine clenched his teeth. Yeah, if this was about Kagesawa’s hobby, Harumine wasn’t particularly concerned, but what about the emotional damage?

“You must understand that due to the nature of the link, we could not risk informing you in advance. Our aim was to conduct this investigation wholly without having to concern you with it,” she said as if it were only natural they needed no consent or prior notice and as if Harumine couldn’t have kept something from Kagesawa if required. He was an SEU graduate for heaven’s sake. He wasn’t sure which was worse: the violation of his basic human rights or the lack of trust in his abilities.

But more importantly:

“Did you manage to extract something before the plugin failed?” If that thing had somehow recorded a recognisable signature of the things he and Kagesawa had been up to lately…

The woman paused to flick through the forms on the desk. Once done, she handed him the stack and a pen. A stack of paper! Not a tablet or a link. An actual stack of paper forms and a ballpoint pen! Not only was she going to drown him in this paperwork, she’d held off answering the question. This whole review was bullshit! It took Harumine all his self-restraint not to chew her head off.

If they found out about his recent indecent conduct, how would that affect his career? Would it be something they marked on his record? That he’d sexually harassed his drunken colleague—?

“No,” she said finally. “Unfortunately, the plugin failed before it could send anything to us, and we just confirmed that the data saved on it was corrupt. But at least it seems your link is more stable than any of the previous ones. We should be able to wrap this up fairly quickly with a new plugin.”

Please take all the time you need. In fact, please take an indefinite amount of time. Harumine didn’t want any more experimental plugins in his head, complicating things further. The first one had already done enough damage.

What the hell was he supposed to do now anyway? What was he going to tell Kagesawa? Nothing? He’d said they were in this together, but how much of all that was due to some random malfunctioning plugin messing with his head?

And after this crap circus of an investigation, how in the world was he supposed to trust EA ever again?

When he was finally done filling out the mountain of forms sometime after nine o’clock, Harumine rushed out of the EA’s offices. They’d removed the block in his port and instructed him to dampen while the local anaesthetic wore off and he got readjusted to the connection, so he was still dampening as he walked home. It gave him an opportunity to sort his thoughts, and he dragged his feet to ensure he had ample time.

In the end, the reviewer had been almost excessively apologetic about any inconveniences they had caused, but Harumine’s response to her attempts of smoothing it over was nothing more than a tepid ‘meh’.

Whatever the reason for this investigation, the days being linked to Kagesawa were now finite. At the end of this, Harumine would be free and able to restart his career. That should have made him overjoyed, but he’d already invested so much into this, nor was he too happy about how the EA had handled everything… At least, he assumed that was why he was feeling so conflicted.

Preoccupied by his worries, it took Harumine a fair while to notice something wasn’t right when he got back to the apartment. He stopped dampening, but there was no sign of Kagesawa anywhere nearby. The link stayed silent.

Was there still something wrong with the connection? The tendrils seemed to be functioning normally, but maybe he hadn’t readjusted properly yet.

“Kagesawa?” Perhaps next door, having a beer? It was getting late, but Harumine decided to still ring the doorbell.

“Yes?” It didn’t take Takazaki long to respond, so at least he hadn’t been sleeping yet.

“Have you seen Kagesawa?”

“No.”

“He’s not at home, and I can’t get through the link.” What if there was nothing wrong with the connection? In tandem with Harumine’s creeping panic, the regret he’d taught Kagesawa the proper way to dampen increased by the minute.

Takazaki didn’t seem the type to resort to empty words of comfort, so he was clearly struggling to find some now. “When did you last see him?”

“I had an errand to run at seven, so sometime before I left. Maybe he’s at the pub or visiting someone?”

“He wouldn’t go alone. He also never visits anyone without being invited first. At least almost never.” Despite the late hour, Takazaki grabbed his coat and started putting on his shoes. “Did he seem upset at all when you left? Like he might want to do something stupid?”

“No, he was fine. I thought everything was… fine.” Harumine tried to recall if there had been any signs that Kagesawa might want to harm himself.

“And there were no signs of struggle?” Takazaki confirmed, made sure he had his keys and closed the door behind him.

“No. I don’t even know where to look.” Sharing a link these past few weeks had given Harumine the false impression that he knew Kagesawa better than he did.

Ah damn. If he hadn’t dallied, would he have run into the man on his way home? Kagesawa? Where are you?

“Let’s take a look around the neighbourhood first. Maybe he’s jogging at the park and forgot to let you know. You know how stuff slips his mind,” Takazaki suggested.

Yes, Kagesawa was a little forgetful, but enough to walk off and forget he was dampening the link?

The apartment felt incredibly empty and lifeless the next day without Kagesawa making a mess in it. Harumine had looked for him until somewhat past midnight before giving up. Takazaki had kept him company most of the way, but he’d had work the next day. Thankfully, today was not a workday for Harumine, and he had a few more days over the weekend to figure out how to deal with that whole issue.

Was he supposed to file a missing person’s report? When? Would that be of any use? If Kagesawa had meant to disappear and didn’t want to be found, he probably wouldn’t appreciate Harumine alerting the authorities.

What did it matter if he didn’t appreciate it? That damn douche canoe had left without leaving a note! Them having rushed into such an intimate relationship because of the damn link was screwing with Harumine’s perception, and he had to remind himself yet again that they weren’t actually all that close. It was just a work thing.

But what if Kagesawa had left against his will? Harumine retracted the descriptive part of his earlier inner statement and continued pacing around the living room.

Who else could he contact for help? A friend?

What friend. His laugh was hollow. He’d dedicated the last seven years to his studies. He’d had acquaintances, some even close enough to call friends, but not one of them was worth calling for help. As for his family, they lived up north in the sticks, and the most they could do was give farming advice or possibly a few superficial words of encouragement.

Harumine sat down on the sofa. All he could hear was himself breathing.