KS A Tell-Tale Heart

	‘I hate the rain.’ Hisao Nakai thought to himself. The weather outside was awful, as pouring rain come down in buckets. He walked along the crowded pathway, the bright neon lights of the city’s ‘Red District’ shining brightly in the gloomy afternoon. His hair was matted down to his face. He thought to himself that he should have grabbed an umbrella… but no, in a place like this, that’d have just made him a target. The crowd he walked with was filled with dirty people who likely haven’t showered since the last time it rained, with torn clothing and hunched and broken demeanors. Hisao knew that this was the area workers would come after a day in the mines, a spot to relax and ‘have fun.’

	A nearby shop grabed his attention, with girls dancing in the store front. Scantily clad in minimal clothing, they looked almost real as they alluringly danced, until a slight flicker as one motions towards him with their finger to come shows that they’re just Hollows.

	Holographic Orderly Serving Robotics were what the robots were sold as, but anybody who had a brain just called them Hollows on account of their being nothing human about them. They might feel human if you grabbed one, if you could ignore the pulsing spot where your hand lay, but there was nothing human in there. All the same, that didn’t stop people from trying. Hollows were used as call-girls and ‘exotic dancers’ in this part of town, whereas the spot where Hisao was more used to may use them as a front desk receptionist, or a secretary. They were smart, if nothing else. Hisao looked away in disgust. The Chinese barbarians had no class.

	Sure, the Japanese had their own sorts of personal assistants. The newest model of android were being flown out all around the southern market like wild fire, and Hisao could bet that the clubs owner had one or two inside for his ‘personal friends.’ The Android was as damn close to human as you could get with robotics, it’s skin felt soft if it was made to be soft, strong if you wanted strength. Hisao stalked off and away from the club, pulling up the collar on his coat. Only a few more blocks, stalking through this filth, and then he could return home.

	As he walked, intent without being distracted further, he saw all kinds out of the corner of his eye. The Chinese had seemed to become almost feral. Faces of broken men were all around him, people who marched from one day to the next with no goal in mind other than survival. ‘That’s why they come here,’ he mused. ‘That’s why the Americans don’t police here like they do the other sections.’

	A man, a round-eyed white man, bumped shoulders with him. The man turned on him, fear in his eyes with a hand flying to his pocket. After a moments silence, he seemed to realize that Hisao was no threat. They stood, crowd shouldering their way around them. The man nodded at Hisao. “Comrade.” He spoke in English. He turned from Hisao and walked off, joining the current of the crowd. Hisao stood for a moment, staring after him as the man lit up what must have been Opium.

	‘Maybe a few too many atoms made their way into the survivors.’ Hisao mused. He continued on, walking. He picked up his pace, wanting to be done with today before the day’s dealings really began.

	He walked on for a few more blocks. The neon lighting was beginning to give him a headache, but he was almost to where he needed to be. Spotlights illuminated a nearby missionary point, the cross of Christ standing over the entrance like a ward. A young Japanese woman, with brownish blonde hair, stood out front, calling to the crowd in English, her heritage easy to see as her mixture of fair skin and more rounded eyes.

	“Repent, repent! God calls upon you to repent your sins, and the sins of your fathers. Repent, and live in life everlasting. Give up the worship of the false Atom, repent and give yourselves unto God!”

	Hisao felt the cross around his neck, as if the necklace had suddenly grown heavier. He resisted the urge to run into the church and confess himself to the Priest inside, as the current swelled past. Hisao knew that occasionally, a person might hear the preaching’s of the beautiful woman offering salvation and accept it. He’d go inside, confess his sins, and maybe even be baptized by the priest. He’d then leave the place… and his brothers and sisters would ensure he met God before he might have liked.

	In her hand the woman held a cane, and she waved it around as she spoke. Whether it was for her use, or for her protection… Hisao couldn’t be sure. This would likely be the only place the police would be watching in the entire district.

	There was no escape for the barbarians, Hisao knew. It was as simple as their birth, a barbarian would be a barbarian until he refused his own, and then his own would kill him. He shook his head, and turned the corner into a nearby alley-way. Alongside the religious building, stain glass depicted the steps and trials of Christ. A Chinese man sat on a wooden crate next to a steel door of the building opposite an image of Christ laboring to carry the cross.

	Hisao approached the door and knocked three small knocks, followed by three large knocks, just as he’d be instructed. A small pause turned into a long one on the other side. Hisao tried again, a bit more impatient now. A sudden grab at the back of his neck, and his face and body were slammed against the door, pinning him.

	“Who are you?” An irate voice demanded. The Chinese man who’d been sitting nearby. Hisao felt something poking into his back, and knew he was held at knife-point. He felt his pulse quicken, and continue to rise as he fought back thoughts of being ended in a district filled with filth.

	“H-Hisao Nakai. My heart. Please.”

	“We were told the buyer was Japanese.” The man hissed in his ear.

	“I am!” Hisao spoke loudly, earning himself another slamming of his head. “My- my parents are both from the mainland. My family is pure-blooded. Check my wallet.”

	“That does us no good if you’re a plant.” The man spoke.

	“I have the money, please my heart can’t- ugh.” He groaned as he felt the familiar sensation of his heart seizing. He started to collapse, and the man withdrew the knife. Hisao squinched his eyes shut, and fell to his knees, one hand to the ground and the other to his chest. He focused on counting backward, and telling himself he was in no real danger. He had to calm his pulse, like he’d been told before. A series of rapid clicking followed by the sound of the door opening commenced, but Hisao ignored it. He finally felt his pulse calming as another man began talking in hushed by tense Mandarin, a dead language to all except those who needed code. Hisao stuck his hand out, warding off the other person. He could control this. Slowly, surely, the pain ebbed away as his pulse fell, and he felt himself return to normal. ‘I did it. I did it! I calmed it down!’ He thought to himself excitedly. Hisao looked up, smiling widely, right into the barrel of an ancient rifle.

	Hisao recognized the AK-47 pointed right at his face, and the irritated look of the bearded white man behind the trigger. He pointed the gun at Hisao with military like efficiently, and Hisao raised his hands. “Tell me why I should not paint that stain glass red with your blood.” Spoke the man, a Russian by the look of him.

	“I am Hisao Nakai. Your buyer. I knew the password. I have been in contact with you for the last 3 weeks arranging this.”

	“You do not look Japanese.” The man said.

	“At least you address it before slamming me into the wall.” Hisao said, bitterly casting a glare at the Chinese man. “My parents were both purebloods. They came from the mainland, before the evacuation to Australia.”

	“Let him in, Misha.” Said a voice, a familiar woman’s voice. “I recognize his voice. That’s him.”

	The man, Misha, lowered his rifle, although his glare remained.

	“Thank you.” Hisao said to him.

	“Fuck your Mother.” The man responded. He reached into his jacket coat, and withdrew a small device. “All guards, you are being placed upon high alert. If anything happens, anything suspicious, you are clear to open fire. I will take no chances.” He spoke with a heavy accent. In response, several lights lit up upon the device.

	“Misha, bring him in.” The voice said. “He’ll catch his death out there with you.”

	Misha nodded towards the door. “I will kill you myself, at a moment’s notice. Yes?”

	Hisao nodded as he walked past the man, who followed behind him. He entered the room and felt his eyes have to adjust to the normal lighting as he squinted.

	“Hisao. Welcome.” Said the female again. As Hisao’s eyes adjusted, he could see the woman standing in front of him. She had blonde hair that looked as if someone had cut it with hedge clippers that was in direct contrast to her fine black suit. The worrying part was her dark red eyes. She, like many Japanese did nowadays, had fair skin.

	“Good evening, Akira. Your welcome mat is not what I was expecting.” Hisao said.

	Akira laughed, although it came out as if forced. “Oh we’re a bit high on security here.”

	“Then why choose a spot right next to the mission?” Hisao asked, genuinely curious.

	“Because it will be the one spot the American’s don’t have bugged.” She said. “Everywhere else in this district, they have cameras and noise recorders. They can even pick up individual voices, if you believe it. Misha here is a bit of a wanted man,” she said, slapping the man on the shoulder. “We have to be careful.”

	“Were you in the Red Army?” Hisao asked the man. He stared back at Hisao, wordlessly.

	“Misha, don’t be rude.” Akira said. He looked at her, and then back at Hisao.

	“Da.” He replied simply.

	“Oh, come on. Uncle said you used to be so much happier, whatever happened to that?” Akira said. Hisao, now feeling more than a little awkward, regretted asking.

	“The American’s dropped an Atom bomb on my wife my unborn child. My little girl.” The older man said.

	“O-oh. I am so sorry.” Hisao said. And he meant it, surprisingly, given that the man was holding a rifle on him just a moment ago.

	“I paid them back, before the end of the war.” Misha said. Darkness seemed to emanate from the man as he smiled. “I am one of the last people alive to have seen the Eiffel Tower as atomic fire erupted around it.”

	“Oooooookay buddy,” Akira said. “Let’s not scare off our customer. Go on, get back to it.” She said, tapping the man on the shoulder. The man looked at her, still looking at Hisao, stalked from the room. “Sorry about him.” Akira said, shrugging. “Not everybody is happy with how the war ended.”

	“Yea… Sorry I brought it up.” Hisao said.

	“Well, come on, let’s get to it.” Akira said. She turned, waving at Hisao to follow. “As you know,” she said, walking into a hallway, “today’s operation will be quite difficult. It’s not exactly new technology, but that doesn’t make it any less difficult. However, the good news is that you won’t have to be paying our usual share, which goes to the donor.” Akira said. Hisao knew that his heart had to come from somewhere, but he dared not ask just how Akira was able to come about it. He just wanted the operation to be done and over with… though now that he was here, standing face to face with the woman, he couldn’t resist.
“He… He wasn’t alive when you took it, right?”

	Akira stopped walking, and sighed. She turned to Hisao. “No, no I felt that that would be a deal breaker. It often times is, with these important ones.” She said, waving her hand. “Don’t worry, the man we got yours from was healthy as a horse when he died. It was in a car accident, just recently. We’ve got our fingers in a few pies, and will make sure his family knows the appreciation that their organ donor father gave to another person. We’ll send the girl that was in the car with him some flowers.”

	“Oh… That’s awful. Is she alright?”

	Akira made a face that said it was better not to ask.

	“Well, please allow me to send a card as well.”

	She placed a hand to her chin, thoughtfully. “Normally, I wouldn’t allow that. We can’t let on that any organs were taken that haven’t been claimed by the state. The American’s know we’re doing it, but to rub it in their face is another matter. However, due to the circumstances, I’ll allow an anonymous thank you card. Nothing about the heart though, okay?”

	“Yea… alright.” Hisao said.

	“Good. You’re a good dude, Hisao. Better than most who come through that door.”

	Hisao noticed that they had walked past a few rooms with closed doors, and wondered just how many others DID come through that door as Akira lead him onwards again. They walked the remaining way in silence, until Akira knocked on a closed blue door near the end of the hall. It opened, and a tall man with blue hair stood smiling.

	“Ah, is this our lucky man for the day?” The man said.

	“Yea, he’s the one. Help him get under, and be gentle with him. It’s his first time.” Akira patted Hisao on the shoulder and gave him a wink with her unnerving red eyes. “Have fun, kiddo.” And she walked off.

	The blue haired man stood to the side, holding the door for Hisao. The room was bathed in a dark blue light. “Please, remove your jacket and undershirt. I need your chest open for this.” Said the man. When Hisao hesitated, the man continued. “Don’t worry, everyone’s first time is awkward, but I’ll walk you through it.” He said with a wink.

	The ice broken, Hisao stopped himself from rolling his eyes. “Should I leave the cash with you?” Hisao asked, as he removed his rain coat.
“Nononono,” he said quickly. “If you did that then Akira would have a nice fresh arm to give someone.” He laughed. “You pay her directly, after the surgery. Don’t worry, if you die, we know where your pockets are.” The man said with another wink.

	Hisao felt himself tense, even though he knew the man was kidding. He knew just how dangerous this was, that of course there were risks involved, but he also knew he needed to do it regardless. As he removed his undershirt, he noticed that it was glowing. He realized that the blue light must be a black light, or some form of ultra-violet lighting.

	“It’s for the laser.” The man said. He had noticed Hisao inspecting his shirt and looking at the bulb. “It helps the surgeon make exact cuts. Don’t worry, you won’t get sun burnt.” He said, with another laugh. He approached a bed that was in the center of the room, and pulled off the blue cover. The white sheets of the bed and pillow casing glowed with an eerie light. He pulled a machine that looked almost like a car engine towards the bed, tubes coming in and out of different areas so that Hisao couldn’t tell where it started and where it ended.

	“You’re lucky, you know? You’ll barely even have a scar after this. A while back, this stuff all had to be done with cuts and metal. Now, though, well the march of progress moves ever forward.”

	Hisao nodded his head. He’d been hearing for a while now what a lucky guy he was. So lucky, was he, that they were able to predict and hold off his Arrhythmia until after high school. So lucky that they had medication that might give him another ten comfortable years unless he wanted to move to America in order to have any amount of space that he could work out like a race horse for the rest of his life. The entire Asian content was a no-go zone, Europe was barely holding itself together, and Africa was… well, Africa. Hisao didn’t know much about it besides some issue that had been happening in the Middle-East that were easily squashed when they realized that they were going against the world’s only super power without any sort of manufacturing or weapons.

	He liked his apartment in the Japanese part of town. He liked his job as an assistant at the Aussie-Japanese College. He liked his co-workers, especially the blonde assistant that he worked in tandem with whenever the science course needed to learn the imperial system and English terms. He found himself thinking about Lilly even now, and wondered just what a refined woman would think of him being in a place like this.

	He made his way over to the bed and sat on it. He leaned back against the sloped surface, the coolness of the blankets and the pillow against his bare back making him shiver. He hadn’t realized how cool it was in here, although that may be because of the rain from outside.

	“Alright, let me see your arm.” Said the man as he pulled a chair up next to the machine on Hisao’s left.

	Hisao extended his left arm, and saw how the light seemed to make his veins glow. ‘That kind of light is this? It’s not just a black light, is it?’ He thought to himself. He worriedly wondered what sort of radiation he might be absorbing, or worse what might be brought in when they sliced him open.

	“A bit tense, eh?” The man asked as he took Hisao’s arm. “Not to worry. This stuff will have you out like a light. You won’t feel a thing, just this needle.” He held up a small pin needle attached to a tube. He then attached the tube to the machine and began flicking switches, and the machine slowly started twinkling as it came to life. Hisao could see a screen up top, but couldn’t read it. The man then attached a cuff to Hisao’s arm, and he felt it inflate, tightening around the arm. “You ready?”

	Hisao sighed. “As ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose.”

	The man jabbed Hisao’s vein with the needle, which began filter some sort of clear liquid into him. Before he really realized it, the pain from the needle began to rapidly fade, followed by the feeling of the cuff on his arm. The man pressed a button on the bed, and Hisao went into a laying position.

	“Now, do me a favor, and count backwards from ten.” The man spoke.

	Hisao obediently went along. “Ten… nine… eight…”

	He was out before he even got to seven.
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	“Wakey wakey, sleeping beauty.” Spoke a voice, piercing Hisao’s darkness filled sleep. Light came to him, a sharp white light in direct contrast with the calm blue light that had been in the room.

	He squinted his eyes against the sharpness, but his body senses told him his upper body was moving. He whipped a tear from his left eye, and could see standing at the foot of the bed was Akira.  The blue haired man sat next to him, raising him on the bed.

	“Congratulations, Mr. Nakai. The surgery was a success. Now, as you know, this was no pretty penny…” Akira began, but Hisao was already reaching for his wallet. He tossed it to the girl, who caught it with steady hands.

	“There you are, it’s all in there, plus an extra hundred US dollars. I know my manners well enough to tip the people who just extended my life another 40 years.”

	Akira smiled and bowed her head. “You’re a good man, Nakai. I hope I never have to do business with you again.” She touched her fingers to the brim of her head. “I’ll let you get your bearings. Call me when he’s good to leave.” She instructed the blue haired man. He nodded, with a smile and she walked from the room.

	“Alright,” the man began. “Honestly, there’s not much to tell. See that small red line on your chest here?” The man said, pointing. Hisao noticed the plastic gloves he had over his hands. On his chest was an extremely small red line, that looked as if he had simply scratched himself during a hot shower. “That’s your scar. It’ll fade soon, probably by weeks end.”

	Hisao stared at it, amazed by the tiny mark. “I was honestly expecting something more, like a permanent mark that went along my whole chest.”

	“Like I said, you’re lucky. Thanks to the miracles of modern medicine, and some Canadian dude who has a knack for invention,” he patted the machine, “you’re all set to go. You can even toss out those meds you have at home.” He said with a wink. Hisao swung his legs over the lip of the bed and stood. He felt cramped as he stretched, and his sternum cracked, but he felt no pain in his chest.

	“How will I know if something went wrong? Like if it doesn’t take or something?” Hisao asked.

	“Well, you’ll know, because you’ll be dead on the ground.” The nurse said with a wink. When Hisao looked at him panicked, he chuckled.

	“Relax, if anything were to go wrong, it’d have already done so. Go on, your free to go home and live your life in whatever way you choose.” The nurse said, patting him on the back.

	“Yea… thank you.” Hisao said. He bowed to the man, who bowed in return. He knocked on the door after Hisao put his clothing back on, as well as his jacket, and Akira entered.

	“Rain’s let up, but it’s no less dark out there.” She said. They walked along to the entrance, and she handed Hisao back his empty wallet. “Here, you’ll need your identification cards.” She said. “Now go on home, and give some thought to making sure ‘organ donor’ gets stamped on the back of that card.” She winked at him as the Russian, Misha, stepped forward out of a dark corner and opened the door.

	Hisao nodded at the man, who responded by standing still and staring forward, as if he was a statue.

	“Thank you very much for your service. How will I send that card to that girl?” Hisao asked.

	“Ah, we’ll take care of all of that. You go on, and know that she’ll get your thanks and praising her father. Have a goodnight, Nakai.”

	The door closed with a sense of finality. He stood outside in the empty alleyway, and stared ahead at the image of Christ baring his cross. A thought struck the man, as if out of nowhere.

	Arrhythmia was, to him, a sort of cross. Jesus carried his cross until his death, and had it not been for Akira and her group, Hisao would have as well.

	He walked around the building, contemplating this, and rejoined the never ending crowd of people walking. The girl who’d been preaching to the masses was gone, most likely turned in for the night.

	Was he a sort of lesser man for giving up his burden? For wanting the longevity of life?

	Above, a tri-bladed helicopter flew over the Red district, its underside painted red from all of the neon glow. It’s blades thumped in time with Hisao’s strongly beating heart.

	Maybe he was, maybe he wasn’t. He certainly wasn’t a God, who had to die for the sins of others. He was just a man living his life, the same as so many others in the cramped cities that had migrated after the Atom made its claim to the world.