Loups-Garous (22 page)

“It's not like that,” Kunugi said, rolling his eyes. “I need to talk to you.”

“Me?”

“Yes, well, the outside line indicated this address. It's the fortuneteller girl's address, isn't it?”

“What's the problem? Is this about Yabe?”

“It's not like
that
.” Kunugi waved his hand again. “It's a private matter.

Don't take it the wrong way. It's not like
that
either.”

“What do you mean by
that
?”

It was going to be too complicated to try to arrange an official meeting. Kunugi's already nervous face became tenser still, and he sighed.

Aghh.

“Our generation…we still have complexes about gender relations. Even if it's private, it's still sexual harassment. I'm sorry. I just assumed if you came here it was because Yuko Yabe is still the subject of an investigation at the center as well. Is that correct?”

“Why are you asking?”

“It's just, the police can't find out what the center is up to, and I'm not asking as a public matter. You aren't under any obligation to answer.”

“You're talking in circles.”

Was he just being careful?

“Other people of your generation are a lot less serious than you. That's why you're so thoroughly hated.” Kunugi let out a weak laugh.

They hate me when I use my senses, so maybe that's pointless
.

“So what did you want with me?” Shizue said, cold. She felt more like herself. “I clearly just met with Hinako Sakura, but it was a private matter and unrelated to the center's activities. They're treating Yuko Yabe's disappearance as a possible murder, so the investigation has been turned over to the police.”

“Is that so?”

“Of course, we've been instructed to cooperate in every way possible with the police investigation. That's why we've sent them all the information we have on the kids, but we haven't done any surveys on them individually, or their active social lives.”

“You're talking in circles yourself,” Kunugi said. “You were concerned and came out here, then. Was it useful?”

“That I definitely don't have to answer. It was a private meeting.”

“I guess. I've been left completely out,” Kunugi said, apathetic.

“From the investigation?”

“Worse. From the department. I've been asked to take a sabbatical.”

“Sabbatical…Are you being blamed for our incident?”

In which case Shizue wasn't exempt from responsibility, though it'd be difficult for her to assume any if asked. When she asked if she was under suspicion Kunugi said
It isn't like that
again.

“Technically yes, but it's just words. I'd been eyed from the root. I'm a nuisance to them. I'm always somehow at odds with what the rest of the team is doing.”

“In that case…”

Why was he here? If it wasn't to talk about his concerns, was he just here to complain?

“I'm just not satisfied with the explanation.” Kunugi sounded hopeless.

“Of what?”

“With the turn of events. Things just aren't fitting, and at this rate it'll all go bad. But I seem to be the only one thinking that way. But it's because it's gone unresolved we have a serial killer on our hands.”

“The police lose credibility.”

“I don't care about that,” Kunugi said and turned around. “What's credibility anyway? We weren't trustworthy to begin with. Kids and families might trust you inherently, but the police, we're just a bunch of functionaries. People hate us; they don't depend on us. Besides, the only people we have
real contact
with are suspects and the associates of known criminals. We don't even need to be human.”

Shizue was at a loss for a response.

What was trust? In today's age trust had to be quantified. It would be measured with immutable numbers through a monitor, but it still had to be measured.

“Well then, what are you going to do?”

“I can't do anything. I told you. I'm not satisfied with the way things have gone.”

Not satisfied.

That was one way of putting it.

It was how Shizue felt right now too. Mildly depressed. Not entirely satisfied.

“Wait. You're not suggesting investigating this matter privately, are you, Mr. Kunugi?”

“I can't. Off duty I'm a strictly monitored civilian. I have no authority.”

“But are your moral standards making it hard for you to remain quiet? Or are you just curious about what's happening?”

Kunugi turned around again and lowered his brows. “I might be old school, but I'm not so old I borrow moldy concepts like ‘moral standards.' Besides, I'm not curious about people dying. I might not have any authority, but I'm not totally useless. So I just need to, you know,
get it
. Just the stuff that's not sitting right with me. It might just be for my own edification. And that's why I had to talk to you.”

“That's why you're following me?”

“If I use my monitor to arrange a meet it leaves a record. I had to run into you without an appointment.”

“You're really a pain, aren't you?” Shizue said.

“Am I?”

“If I refused to see you and reported you to the police you'd be discharged. Those who are assigned authority by law can be prosecuted for forcing a personal meet without permission. It may be a soft offense, but I'm sure even off duty you'd be dismissed.”

“Report me then.”

Kunugi gave Shizue his monitor.

“I can report you anytime.”

Shizue pulled out her own monitor.

“I would rather make an appointment than report you. Thanks to your little organization of cops, I have been suffering a tremendous amount of stress and am mildly depressed. I was going to buy myself some high-end cuisine to alleviate this stress.”

Kunugi laughed weakly. “All I know are the police cafeterias. Three meals a day there. I had started to think about where I would eat off duty, but I didn't get very far.”

Kunugi withdrew his own monitor and started typing into it. Searching for a restaurant?

“I'll decide after I've eaten whether I'm going to report you or not,” Shizue said.

She'd never had any intention of reporting him.

Shizue'd inferred from his past reactions that if she told him he was bothering her he'd run away with his tail between his legs, and that would be a lot less work for her. But she didn't tell him he was bothering her.

She wasn't sure herself why not.

Maybe because this was her excuse to get out of reality.

That was probably it.

To be frank she didn't really want to have dinner with this man. She just thought it would be better than being seen on the road talking to him. He was driving a different solar car from last time. The model was the same but not the smell. It was apparently a rental and not for public use. It was a privately rented car meant for public welfare. Another datum demonstrating that public authority types liked to use these government-issued machines for personal use.

Kunugi made reservations at a Japanese restaurant at the top of an antique real shop.

Japanese cuisine contained many dishes difficult to re-create with synthetic ingredients. Produce notwithstanding, animal proteins all had to be synthetically produced, and so a cooking method replicating “rawness” was near impossible.

That was why it was so expensive.

They were in a private room.

She could tell it was a nice restaurant because the cameras mounted on the walls weren't visible. As a police measure, every real shop was equipped to record all actions by patrons. Especially in eating and drinking establishments, where people spent long periods of time, the area patrol would install surveillance units to record a facial image of everyone who came in. To respect their privacy their conversation wouldn't be actively listened to, but the recorded images and voice data would be saved for a period of time, and if any patrons were later involved in a crime the recording would be released by the police to the courts.

In low-ranking restaurants the mics and cameras were exposed. You knew your conversation wasn't being monitored in real time, but people were opposed to being recorded, and when you thought about the image of you eating being broadcast somewhere else, no amount of familiarity would reassure you.

A high-ranking restaurant recorded the same data.

“That must be it.” Kunugi pointed at the light fixture on the wall with his eyes. That was where the camera was.

“All right, I'm screwed. I'm going to have to eat something I've never had before. Could you order for me?”

Kunugi looked at the menu on the monitor and had it downloaded into his own. It was set up so that once you ordered, the cost of the meal would be withdrawn from the account of the monitor's owner.

“Please don't go overboard. If you don't have enough funds to cover the food you've ordered, the difference gets deducted from me, since I'm eating with you.”

“It wasn't like
this
in the past,” Kunugi said as he punched keys. “When I was young, it was all credit cards. But it got to be too much data to analyze, right? There was a time lag between the charge and the payment, which meant there was always a debt at some point. It used to be you bought confidence. These days you can't confide in anyone. But seriously—what is this sashimi made of?”

“Sashimi is sashimi,” Shizue said, but Kunugi said, “It's
different
. It used to be you cut up something that was once alive and then ate it. I think when I first joined the force we celebrated by eating the flesh of a real dead animal. That's the last thing I clearly remember. All right, I'll have the sashimi.”

Kunugi tapped randomly on the keyboard and smiled, proud of himself.

It was endearing. It had been a long time since Shizue felt endeared.

As soon as he'd inputted his order Kunugi's posture collapsed.

“Do you think synthetic food really doesn't have any effect on the human body?” he asked.

“A public authority like you shouldn't be saying things like that.”

“Nah, the fact that the government approved it doesn't necessarily make it safe. It's tied in directly with the biofood industry.”

“Wouldn't it be exposed by the media, then?”

“Impossible,” Kunugi said with a frown. “I'm an incompetent local functionary. They're not letting me investigate missing people, much less murder cases. The biofood industry has rooted into everything from the Department of Food and Welfare and even central administration. With its growth in the past five years it has the whole world in its hands. They're saying synthetic food products are what's keeping this country's economy afloat. No challenging that.”

“Then…you shouldn't mix up your social standing. You're being recorded.”

Kunugi huffed through his nose at Shizue's criticism. “When I was young, the biofood industry was a venture business. It started taking off about twenty years ago. What was that all about? Suddenly everyone wanted it, and it became really popular. The best minds in business transferred to that industry.”

“There can't be a single exact cause for that.”

“I dunno. I think the country gave them free rein.”

“That was because cloning technology had finally gotten a foothold.”

The moral standard for clone technology had also been established around that time, Shizue remembered. Shizue couldn't be sure what exactly the moral code was on biocultures. Maybe they'd been groping for a different, more ethical methodology at the time.

Kunugi tilted his head. “That's an alternative.”

“Alternative…”

“What I mean is, as far as I can remember, acceptance of cloning only became widespread after the boom went down in flames. Cloning used to be harshly criticized. What's more, everyone was suddenly all for the databasing of everyone's DNA.”

“Ahh.” Shizue had heard of that much too.

“There was also the brazen idea of using the DNA data registration system in professional discrimination.”

“Registration system…”

“Of course it was a national operation. I believe they got halfway through it. They knew it would be a definitive way to distinguish work classes. And much better than assigning numbers. Also really useful in criminal investigations. Though they're adopting this at the police station. It's more effective as evidence than fingerprints. If they have a prior record, DNA can find them. In other words it's used in place of family registries and ID cards.”

“If I recall, weren't Human Protective Services vehemently opposed to that?”

“Yeah. But it's like you said earlier, it's probably correct to assume they couldn't analyze the data. I mean a private company could figure it out so easily.”

“You mean there were technical obstacles,” Shizue said.

“There were no problems biotechnologically. The issue was dealing with the information. It's not like how we have these things now.”

Kunugi tapped at the monitor in his hand a couple times.

“There is an immense amount of information encoded in genes. Plus every individual is different, right? There just wasn't a way to even properly organize the system to analyze DNA. Half the police budget alone has been spent on systematizing our information on ex-convicts. The DNA project was going to cover every single person in the country! Besides, can you imagine the shitstorm we'd be facing if there were an information leak? Think of how opposed you were to the idea of distributing private information on children. If you think about it—no, you don't even have to think. The fact is, misuse of DNA information would lead to infinitely worse consequences. Half-assed data analysis could snowball into a national problem. That's why the plan was dismantled midcourse. And at that point, the government got itself in debt with the industry.”