XCEL

The Special Reception Room, located on the fourth floor of the Prime Minister’s official office, was sometimes called the Japanese Horse Chestnut Room. Not particular creative, but apt. The walls were lined with carefully carved panels of said wood on one side, the grains deviating with natural disorder. You entered the room through sliding doors at one end, and were met with a lovely contrast. Perfectly symmetrical, the brown wooden panelling to your left, the traditions and history of their culture, and a steely grey to your right—functional, shuttered blinds—the reality of their world.

A wide strip of soft panel lightning ran the length of the ceiling, a gentle glow illuminating the low brown leather seating arranged along both walls. Soft chairs that sunk a little too much under one’s weight, no matter how heavy, and with too low a back to lean against. This was intentional. It forced the sitter into a degree of discomfort. The natural posture in such a chair was to slouch, to let the lower back slide down the seat. In order to not look rude, quite literally tantamount as was custom, one had to put extra effort into straightening the back. Black tables were positioned at intervals between every other seat. Far enough away that one had to strain and reach, and completely out of the question to move any closer.

This room was for guests, and a large number of them. The room wasn’t large, but no meeting in here ever contained enough people to fill all the chairs. There were never enough bodies to help this room feel at all comfortable. At present, there were seven. On the left-hand side, two uniformed officials, identically dressed, differed only in the minutiae of their faces, and with how much overt suspicion they regarded their guests with across the room. Yugo Chisori filled his chair, and sat upright. Both hands, folded across his lap, he smiled. They didn’t smile back. Zuisaya Nori assumed her usual posture, and didn’t look at anyone. Tan’in Mokuzo studied everyone’s faces, shrewd gaze gravitating to the two positioned at the far end of the room.

“Let’s begin the meeting proper. Please excuse me as I cut through all pretences,” announced a full-faced, broad-shouldered man sat at the far end of the room. His chair was one of two, angled inwards facing its counterpart. His cheeks drooped like a bulldog’s. He had small eyes, large ears. Under his suit, the pristine white shirt was buttoned unfortunately tight around his throat, causing the excess to sag over the top. It rippled like a bullfrog’s when he spoke. The only thing he was missing to complete the full bull trifecta was a thick ring through his septum. “Twenty minutes ago, I received a report from the chief of police about a catastrophic incident downtown. Your likeness is unmistakable, Mr Ishimatsu. I have welcomed you into this house as my guest for the purpose of this meeting, perhaps to my error, but this will not go unnoticed. I hope I make myself clear.”

“You lie, prime minister: you still hold pretences.” Gus Ishimatsu made no attempt to sit proper. The behemoth dwarfed the rest of their company, save maybe for Chisori. He leant forward, elbows resting on his thighs, and glowered at his host. “Please accuse me of my transgressions directly, so I may take accountability. An expatriate is never able to truly abandon the customs of the motherland. I ask you speak your true mind. That way, our feelings can be properly understood.”

Prime Minister Tomoyasu Sarahiro chewed on his teeth. “As you wish. I understand that it is difficult to fully acclimate to foreign customs and so, as your host, I will… bend my knee, and adopt mannerisms such that an American like yourself can understand.” The man took a deep breath, and straightened his tie. “What in the world were you thinking?!” He exploded in jagged English, a vocal tsunami that doused everyone in eye-widening shock. The jaws of Sarahiro’s associates dropped in unison.

“Thank you, prime minister.” Gus, unfazed, sat up a little straighter. “I carved my own path through an obstruction that would have made us late to this meeting. I couldn’t allow myself to be so disrespectful.” He bowed a little lower in his chair.

“You miss the point!” Sarahiro glared. “Do not talk to me about disrespect having just caused several million yen in damages on my doorstep! How in the world am I supposed to answer for this? The public response I can tolerate, we have enough of a majority to buffer, but the House of Representatives will need answers!”

“By making good on your promise to improve city traffic infrastructure, so that such embarrassing gridlock never happens again. If not for circumstance, I would not have resulted to such desperate measures. I am a reasonable man, prime minister. Violence for violence’s sake is the rule of beasts, not men.” Gus’ heavy gaze bludgeoned the man’s indignation into submission. “My intervention may have solved the problem this time, but you mustn’t rely on my aid. As stated, I take full responsibility for my actions. JPRO will finance all costs of rebuilding.”

“And the lives lost?”

“If they mattered, they would have stopped me.”

Sarahiro’s eyes quivered, fury and fear melded together into a swirl that exuded only confusion. “You’re insane—”

“If you claim compassion, name me every single one.” Gus sat back and waited.

Sarahiro tugged at his collar. “That’s not what I—”

“Then I will advise you against trying to vilify me to save your own skin, prime minister. At every turn, I have supported your campaign, because I believed in your strength. You opposed that cowardly commissioner Marushida last election and prevailed because you were strong. Please do not disappoint by proving my judgement of your character in error.”

Sarahiro’s jaw twitched, unable to take his eyes from Gus’ stony face lest he be devoured. He took a sharp breath, and straightened his suit out of habit. “Very well,” he stuttered. “But I will not be undermined!” Reaching for his glass of water, it nearly slipped from his sweaty grip. The liquid’s surface trembled. The man couldn’t even bring himself to take a sip. “I am aware of what a man of your capability can do. However, you will respect that though I do not share your supernal strength, that I do the best job I can for my nation.”

“And I do.” Gus nodded, but his eyes widened. “Otherwise, you would not be at the helm any longer.” Most unnerving of all, perhaps, was that he didn’t even need to disguise his threat. “You possess skills in diplomacy that I lack. I could not lead any nation nearly as effectively. Balancing the people’s wishes with the prosperity of the collective is a weathering war in which no-one wins.” His gravelly tones, spoken as always through gritted teeth out the side of his mouth, dropped even further. “In that regard, you are far stronger than I.”

Sarahiro sniffed, and puffed out his chest. “That’s right, and I’d advise you didn’t forget it.”

Gus grunted, amused.

Sarahiro chose to ignore that, and cast a terse glance around the room. “As I mentioned in prior correspondence, with me today are Mr Gen’ichiro Kanda, governor of Chiba Prefecture—” The elder of the two suited man, with a compressed face and receding hairline, placed both knuckles on his knees and bowed— “and the Minister of Defence, Mr Ichiro Takeda,” the younger man with the flat face and staring eyes did similarly.

Gus gestured to his lot. “Mine are old enough to introduce themselves.”

And so they did. They had already introduced themselves to and thanked the prime minister in reception, but such was the essence of formality. The last to present herself, Tan’in Mokuzo stated her name with all the polite trimmings and accompanying greetings.

Takeda, the Minister of Defence, looked alarmed. “Mokuzo? I recognise that name.” His gaze flashed to Sarahiro. “Sir, she was indicted for the orchestration of the assassination of Mr Kobayashi, not to mention the desecration of the Trinity Church!”

Mokuzo grinned but kept her peace.

“Please, Mr Takeda.” Sarahiro raised a calming palm. “I am aware of who she is. Her sentence was overturned due to a retroactive framing of evidence.”

Takeda wired his mouth shut, but words still screamed behind sealed lips.

“Allow me to assure you,” Gus placed a hand over his chest. “Now that she is no longer persecuted for her strengths, Ms Tan’in Mokuzo has been an exemplary employee for over a decade.”

“I defer to your judgement.” Mokuzo bowed to their company.

“That won’t be necessary.” Sarahiro shook his head. “Mr Ishimatsu, what was it you needed?”

“This meeting is an attempt to go the proper channels. I humbly present myself to you today, prime minister, and request your permission.” Gus grinned. “My lead scientists have planned an Experiment.” The emphasis he put on that final word, along with the almost comically grave chuckle emanating afterwards gave enough of an impression without need for elaboration.

“An experiment? What kind?” Chiba Governor Kanda demanded.

Dr Nori perked up. “May I?”

Gus sighed, irritated. “You do not need my permission.”

Chided, she adjusted the positioning of her shoulders, and the rim of her glasses. “To preface, JPRO Biologics’ fundamental research into the intricacies of the human mind has reached breakthrough status. We have mapped out the locality of the subconscious down to the specific cortex, the impact that individual parts of the brain have on a specific and holistic level. Above all, we have identified the significant disconnect that exists between the conscious and subconscious minds and,” her glasses gleamed, “how to fix it.”

Sarahiro’s brow furrowed. “Continue.”

“Our small-scale tests using selected individuals have given telling, albeit promising results. Those who are capable of transcending the inherent limitations of the psyche using our method are able to wield the full extent of their mind, and influence the rules of this world on a fundamental scale. However, before we can monopolise on this method, we require a larger sample size to provide us with the necessary data to formalise our study.” She nodded to Chisori.

“My time to shine? Alright!” Across one of the tables, the man unfurled a large roll of paper from a cardboard tube: a map of Chiba city, with an outline drawn around its perimeter. “Government census data showed us the population of this city approaches one million. It is far enough away from the heart of the country to have minimal impact on trade, and such would be an ideal number to serve as our experimental basis. This is where you two come in.” He nodded to Takeda and Kanda. His tone had lost its boyish joviality. Exposed underneath was the cold edge of ruthless scientific discipline. “By our design, no-one can leave. However, starting January first of the next year, we request an military boundary surrounding the entirety of Chiba city’s limits to ensure no-one else gets in, eliminating extraneous casualty, and ensuring our study can proceed without interruption.”

“Casualty?” Takeda interjected. “What are you talking about? Are you planning on experimenting on our own citizens? What kind of scientific experiment requires a military blockade? How many casualties are you expecting?”

Nori’s mouth barely twitched. “Assuming all undesirables are eliminated, 971 thousand.”

Kanda looked seconds away from vomiting. His skin had bleached, and his hands shook. “That’s almost our entire population! Absolutely not! You’re planning to slaughter the lot of them! What kind of idiots do you take us for?”

“The kind who will see to reason.” Gus sat back in his chair. “It is no secret that, as modern society has advanced to a stage where man is no longer expected to provide for his own survival, man has become inept. Convenience has allowed the thralls of weakness to spread throughout society like a plague. Indolence, greed, apathy, lack of accountability, lack of will: all symptoms of a society lacking the essential human traits of survival, blighted with a scourge so endemic it runs the very bureaucracy that maintains a so-called law and order. This problem is global. Mankind has forgotten to defend itself by taking the path of least resistance. That path has allowed personal weakness to proliferate, uninhibited. Man has become lazy. Furthermore, this scourge of weakness manifests itself in the most despicable way possible. Those few left who can assert themselves and their wills are shackled by the envy of those who cannot, unfairly persecuted for their strength and left to rot as they subject themselves to a system that seeks to drag everyone down to the same bottom zero.”

Sarahiro, dumbfounded, could only ask, “What are you proposing?”

“A solution.” Never had that strained, gravelly voice sounded so sinister. From within his jacket, he procured his fragment of the ascension blade. The wicked, serpentine knife fragment gleamed in the artificial light. “There exists a way to elevate mankind to its truest potential, to cut that scourge of weakness from the root, and burn the remainder so that it may never return. It is a trial by fire most will not survive, but every epoch has come with its own pressure of natural selection. We seek to drive humanity to its state of evolution.”

“You’re crazy.”

Gus hummed, disappointed. “And here I thought you understood. Here I thought you were one of the strong. Must I reconsider my opinion so soon?” A fist clenched by the man’s side.

“Wait! Wait—” Sarahiro sputtered. “Let’s not jump to conclusions. You’re acting in humanities best interests, is that right? Natural selection, like the ice age extinction.”

“Life finds a way to persist, in spite of all else. It comes back, stronger than before. When faced with adversity, life evolves to adapt. That is what makes it beautiful.” Gus’ grin widened. Not only that, but as the first to embrace it, Japan will once again be a world-domineering power.”

The man’s eyes lit up. “You mean—”

“I do. It is no secret that the nation’s standing in the world has fallen in decades following the second world war. Japan is failing to make its mark on the world stage in the way that it should. The United States, the country that made me a pariah, continues to exert itself over the globe unabated.”

“You don’t need to tell me.” The man grimaced. “China, Korea, India to name a few. Their growth all far outstrips our own. We have been losing steam for far too long. We no longer have the authority we deserve as a world power.” He steeled himself. “I was elected out of anguish. The people’s anguish. They demand more, they demand to be respected in the way we once were, to eliminate foreign influence from our beautiful country.” The nationalistic rhetoric slipped from his lips like song, familiar lines from his campaign speeches burrowing their way deeper into his brain. Those elegies to a land-once-lost-but-no-longer had riled the populace, stirred up generations of ire against those who wronged them.

“How would you like to be remembered, prime minister?”

“As the one who took a stand.”

Gus chuckled. “Excellent.”

“Are you saying you can help me… make Japan great again?”

“Make Japan great again,” Gus repeated. “Now, that’s a slogan worthy of a politician.” His lip curled. “Make no mistake: I serve no nation. All people are my brethren. I aim to make humanity great again.”

“This government has turned a blind eye to JPRO’s activities thus far. I have asked no questions, and received no lies,” Sarahiro continued, “but I stated we would only be complicit for as long as it was in our mutual best interests.”

“Which it has.” Gus pat the man on the back. “And now your show of good faith, the seeds you’ve sown, have since blossomed and born fruit. This fruit I now offer to you, to prove that your investment was worthwhile. I am offering to no significant cost the chance to accomplish something your predecessors could never have dreamed of. I trust that you’ll make the strong decision, in the interests of not only your political career, but in furthering humanity.”

Sarahiro sat back in his chair, and tense lull fell over the room. The walls had seemingly closed inwards, the temperature rising as agitated bodies adjusted themselves on leather seats. The JPRO personnel observed, one amused, another nonplussed, and the last, unreadable. Kanda and Takeda deferred to their superior, but shared worried glances with one another, as well as with themselves. Temptation fought on their brow. Both were loyalists to the prime minister’s rhetoric already, and so needed no convincing. The decision ultimately rested with the Bull, who thumbed his obtuse chin in contemplation. Several deep breaths came and went, before he looked to Chisori.

“All you need me to authority is a military blockade around Chiba city from January 1st, preventing entry into the city until your say otherwise. Do I understand you correctly, Dr Chisori?”

The scientist nodded.

“Then, it’s a good thing I have some military advice to consult. I may be commander-in-chief of the armed forces, but I hope you will forgive me for seeking counsel from those more experienced in this particular field.”

Gus accommodate with a sweeping hand. “A very strong decision.”

Sarahiro looked to the sliding doors at the opposite end. “You may enter, commander!”

The doors parted, and a dozen riot police, black-clad with semiautomatic rifles, marched in single file. The man at the front flipped up his helmet to reveal a stubbled face with square eyes, and bowed. “You sent for us, prime minister?”

“That I did.” Sarahiro then turned slowly towards Gus, and pulled a handgun from inside his jacket. Unlike this meeting, the muted, matte black of his Glock G17—to be used in emergencies only—gave no pretence as to its true purpose. “Now, without making any sudden movements, I’d like you and your associates to put your hands in the air, as you are all under arrest.”

The riot police spun on their heel and aimed down their sights at Gus and his personnel. They didn’t flinch, and raised their hands—almost theatrically. Gus stared down the barrel of the gun and blinked slowly, then back at the prime minister. He tilted his head to one side, like a child unsure of the command received. Sarahiro’s eyes shook, his hand on the gun sweated, such that he had to grasp it with the other to keep it trained, point-blank range, on Ishimatsu’s face.

“Do you really think for a second that I would let a genocidal lunatic massacre a million Japanese citizens to pursue some warped idea of furthering humanity?” The man’s voice rose to incredulous extremes. “Do you think I don’t know what JPRO has been up to since its inception? Do you think your threadbare disguise could even attempt to pull the wool over my eyes? Me? The man who single-handedly pulled the my opposition party from the dogshit it wallowed in and into a majority in the diet?” He broke out in exhilarated, nervous laughter. “You have a spy in your midst, you American dog! Someone has been leaking your every step, your every bowel movement to our intelligence service for the past decade!”

“I should hope so,” Gus nodded philosophically. “It would be a shame if he hadn’t managed to accomplish anything given such a wide leash.”

“Shut up!” Sarahiro barked, and Gus gave him a withering look. “I… I will restore Japan to greatness by my own merit! I will never stoop to committing eugenics on my own people or, hell, the world over, in pursuit of some insane asylum-tier Nietzscheanism!”

Gus looked down at his lap, eyes closed.

Sarahiro grinned. He had won. This was his chance to gloat, to save face. Triumph flooded his veins like morphine, which then turned to ice.

“What a shame. Truly, what a terrible, crying shame.” The CEO lifted his gaze, and every ounce of respect and comradeship had evaporated. Sarahiro froze. “When I was in juvenile detention, only age eleven, the correctional officers told me that to enact change in society, one needed to pursue the proper channels. And so, that is what I did. However this, it seems, is where those channels end. I truly hoped that you would see past your own ego, that silly rope of status quo you so desperately cling onto. I truly hoped that you were one of the strong. It seems I give benefit of doubt far too freely. My optimism and good nature betrays me in dealings with others. It always leaves me so bitterly, bitterly disappointed.”

His gaze flashed across the room, to Mokuzo. Third eye open wide, she grinned and clicked her fingers.

The paint and lacquer that comprised the officer’s face melted away, as did the skin on his hands, dripping onto the floor to reveal the blank, polished face of a shiny wooden mannequin underneath all the riot gear. As it did, every single officer in the room, in silence and eerie synchronicity, turned their guns on Sarahiro, and his two ministers.

“Now, gentlemen,” she began. “I think this is the time where you should raise your hands.”