"I believe that imagination is stronger than knowledge -- myth is more potent than history -- dreams are more powerful than facts -- hope always triumphs over experience -- laughter is the cure for grief -- love is stronger than death."
-Robert Fulghum
Togusa stopped on his way to the Sanada building to grab a quick lunch from a bento vendor, sitting on a bench and taking in the courtyard and the students that studied, rested, ate, or gathered to chat. As he ate, he noticed small groups of students arriving with signs and coming together in a gathering nearby. A cameraman from a local television station was filming an impeccably-dressed reporter interviewing a few of those gathered. Then, after a short talk from one student who appeared to be their leader, they gave a cheer and, raising up their signs, began milling about purposefully. He smiled nostalgically. So idealistic . . . I remember when I thought you could change the world by waving around signs . . .
Togusa finished off a small apple and tossed the empty food box in the trash. He sidestepped a protester bearing a sign reading, "Cyberbrains For All", and he noticed other signs reading, "Subsidies For Cyberbrains" and "No Cyberbrain, No Opportunity". Are there really still people that don't have cyberbrains?, thought Togusa. Even my kids have them, these days -- they're required for public school entrance, and most jobs.
Entering the Sanada building, he checked the directory at the front and found the "Historical Systems Lab" on the third floor. When he arrived, the whole area was quiet and the lab, though locked, was empty. I better report to the Major before I go in. He opened up a secure comlink and told her what he had found so far.
"I see. Stay there and keep an eye on things. See if you can find out anything else." He nodded, though she couldn't see it.
Checking once again to be sure the hallway was empty, Togusa examined the lock. It looked like a standard four-digit type. So all the students and research assistants have easy access, he thought, though it makes it a bit harder for intruders like me. He pulled out his electronic lockpick, connected it to the lock's terminals, and waited while it ran through various combinations. It wouldn't work on newer locks, and if the lock was hooked up to a security net it might trigger some warnings, but on an old lock like this one it was perfect.
The door clicked open and he entered quietly, closing the door behind him. The room was filled with terminals, most of which were connected to a medium-sized box on the central table of the room. There was no sign of any foul play -- no blood, no overturned chairs, and no dents in the wall or furniture. The lab was a little disorganized, with papers and books and cables strewn about the tables and floor. He carefully looked through a few of the lab notebooks and examined the most recently accessed files on the terminals. Looks like they were working on the system fairly recently.
He turned on the digital whiteboard, and it displayed a "To-Do" list for the lab. The first three items read:
"Direct-link to Internal Affairs Database Network - Shimura"
"Formulate World War II Scenario - Tanaka"
"Debug Resource Leak In Snow Taste Formulation (low priority) - Fujiwara"
When he turned on one of the terminals connected to the box, he could pull up the system log. The last login data was from several days ago, where there were logins for Shimura, Ogawa, Fujiwara, and Tanaka, but no logouts. Other data in the logs showed that the system was currently up and running a simulation called "Osakajo 1614." Wait -- are they still logged in? His thoughts were interrupted by a secure com from the Major.
"Togusa, are you there?"
"Yes, Major?"
"Paz and Saito just got word of a bomb planted in the lab there at the University -- it's scheduled to go off during a protest. Apparently that's what the deleted transfer from the Department of Internal Affairs to the yakuza was for." Togusa glanced around, the urgency not fully registering. Under the table he noticed a nondescript metal box with several flashing LEDs.
"Major, I think I found it. They must be using the protest outside as a cover." He bent down to look closer at the bomb. "This looks pretty big . . . can't we disarm it or something?" He looked around at all the terminals and wires and electronics. "Or at least recover some of this hardware?"
"There's no time! We don't know exactly when it will go off, but if the protest has already started, then you need to get out of there right now!" With the urgency in her voice, the situation finally clicked, and adrenaline suddenly began to flow as if through an IV. He stood up quickly, no longer hesitant. Yanking the wires out of the main system on the table, he scooped it up in one hand and opened the door with the other. It was surprisingly light, he noted, as he raced down the hallway, pulling the first fire alarm he saw.
"C'mon people, get out of here, this isn't a drill!," he yelled over the noise of the fire alarm as he ran. Those who heard began to walk faster, then run to follow him out.
When he ran out the front doors, he noticed that the protesters were mainly gathered around the wing where the bomb was. With a bomb that powerful, they'll be blasted, too. No doubt to help cover the yakuza's tracks. He looked around for some sort of broadcast device. If I were the Major I could just increase voice output, but I guess my own lungs will have to do. He stood up on a bench and waved his arms to try to get the crowd's attention.
"Everybody, move away from the building immediately! This is not a drill!" With all the noise of the protesters shouting and the fire alarm going off, only a few people near Togusa seemed to notice his pleas. One older-looking student scowled and yelled back,
"Hey man, you can't interrupt a peaceful protest. You're just part of the system that's keeping everybody down!" A long-haired girl near him added calmly,
"Yeah, we registered our protest at the office, so we're totally legit. You can't just tell us to leave." Despairing, Togusa glanced back at the Sanada building. People were still leaving the building, unhurriedly but steadily, but as they entered the plaza, they joined the already-large group to form a mass around the bomb blast area. So many people . . . I've got to find some way to get them out of here!
At last, reaching a decision, he glanced upward, and then pulled out his Mateba revolver and fired a single shot into the air.
The courtyard went quiet, all faces turned to the solitary figure silhouetted against the afternoon sun, gun in hand. The only movement was that of the cameraman swinging his camera around to face the source of the gunshot. In this moment of relative silence, Togusa spoke, loudly and clearly.
"Move away from the building, NOW! There's a bomb ready to explode at any minute!"
Like snow driven before the wind in a blizzard, the crowd surged away, randomly and yet purposefully. But the sound was more like an explosion, sudden and piercing, as everyone began talking at once as they fled.
"Is this a terrorist attack? Have they made any demands?"
"Where's the police?!"
"Did he just say that he has a bomb?!"
"I think my friend's still in there!"
"Ahhh, there's a crazy guy with a gun who's gonna blow us all up with a bomb!"
"Wait, what's going on?!"
"I guess we'll have to reschedule the protest for another day."
Finally, they're beginning to move, Togusa thought as he herded them away like a sheep dog. There were still a few people leaving the building, but when they saw the chaos outside they rushed to join it. Hopefully I don't get into trouble for this . . . The Major's voice interrupted his thoughts,
"That was a nice stunt back there. I hope your wife doesn't watch the news." Oh no, if this gets on the news . . . He barely had time to imagine several possibilities, all unpleasant, before Ishikawa spoke on the same channel.
"Don't worry, we put on a media blackout just in time. The Major was keeping an eye on you, you know." Togusa didn't know whether to feel relieved or offended that they didn't trust him to handle the situation by himself. He never got a chance to decide, though, because at that moment he was knocked off his feet by the explosion.
About an hour later, the Major and Ishikawa had arrived in the tilt-rotor and were going through the wreckage of the lab with Togusa, searching for useful information or equipment. Section 1 was keeping the curious crowd at bay and working with medical personnel to recover the dead and injured. Many of the protesters had minor wounds from shrapnel, and one was badly bruised from being trampled, but most of these had already been treated. Togusa couldn't help remembering the grotesque melted skin and twisted limbs of those who had been closest to the blast. The flaming sunset seemed to bathe their empty shells in fire all over again as the emergency workers carefully lifted them out of the ruined building. He wasn't sure which bodies were more disturbing -- the ones who had died, or those who had survived. It seems like I could have done something more, to get everyone away faster . . .
Subconsciously, he touched the bandage on his ear where a piece of the building had grazed him. It had bled a lot for such a tiny scrape, and now it itched a little. Finished searching the last section of the wreckage, he looked over to see the Major talking to the Section 1 officer in charge, whom Togusa vaguely recognized. The officer spoke,
"Well, it could have been a lot worse, I'll tell you that much. Thanks to Togusa's quick warning, there were only five casualties instead of a hundred." The Major nodded quietly and glanced at Togusa. He supposed he should feel successful -- he had thought that the body count would be much higher -- but that was still five people who would never see their loved ones again. Motoko replied quietly,
"We will send you some data we've recovered on those who planted the bomb. Make good use of it." With that, she turned and began heading toward the building with the helipad where they had left the tilt-rotor. "Ishikawa, Togusa -- time to go."
Back at headquarters, Section 9 reconvened in the conference room for a quick update before ending the day. Aramaki addressed the group,
"Thanks to your investigations, we should have enough evidence to incriminate several leaders of the yakuza for the bomb blast. Motoko also obtained some files implicating Akimoto Hiroshi of the SDF and several of his subordinates of planning to use the Historical Immersion System for military training despite the New Geneva Extension, as well as leaving a backdoor for 'assuring future historical accuracy.' While we know that they hired the yakuza to remove evidence of this, we haven't been able to find hard evidence of that. I'm not sure how much of a case we have at the moment, but Section 1 is now handling this portion of the investigation."
"Our main concern now is with Professor Ogawa and his assistants. Togusa's suspicion that they are still logged in to the Historical Immersion System was corroborated by Batou's interview of the doctor, so that should be our next step. With the parts recovered from the lab, Ishikawa tells me that should be able to have the system ready for investigation sometime tomorrow. Then we need to find out what happened and help them regain consciousness, if possible. Major, I'd like you to be in charge of this endeavor." She nodded.
As they filed out after the meeting, Togusa headed to the equipment lockers to drop off his electronic lockpick and some other equipment. Nearby, Batou, who was also putting a few things away, glanced over and asked,
"So, do you think Section 1 can handle the rest of this investigation?" Togusa shrugged, still a bit subdued from the events of the day.
"They deal with that kind of thing a lot -- they're pretty experienced at making a good case out of a small amount of evidence."
"I see . . . hey, what's with the bandage? You get in a fight or something? Here I am, driving up and down the countryside, while you're dodging bullets and disarming bombs . . . " Batou stopped, upon seeing the distant look on Togusa's face.
"Yeah . . . you should have been there." Maybe then, those five people . . . Once again, the images of seared skin and faces twisted in death flashed through his mind. Closing his eyes for a moment to clear his head, Togusa shut his locker gently and headed to the garage to go home. Batou looked at him, face unreadable, but there was nothing to say.