The Time With My Stepsister/Chapter 3
Things get kinky from here on out, so prepare yerselves! The plot thickens, as they say.
Chapter 3
The strapping young man walked onto the stage in the period clothes of an Italian noble, save the gilded jacket, holding in his hands a log, which he cradled like a small child. He looked out onto the stage and spoke, his youthful voice spoken lowly, but loudly as he addressed the audience under the spotlights.
“There be some sports are painful,” he began, “and their labor delight in them sets them off: some kinds of baseness are nobly undergone and most poor matters point to rich ends.” He took a moment to step closer to the center of the stage, his head tilted back in thought. “This my mean task would be heavy to me as odious, but the mistress which I serve quickens what is dead and makes my labors pleasures.”
He continued, staring down at the floor and at the log. “O, she is ten times more gentle than her father's crabbed, and he's composed of harshness.” He sighed softly as he walked now to a small pile of similar logs, but had yet to set them down. “I must remove some thousands of these logs and pile them up, upon a sore injunction: my sweet mistress weeps when she sees me work, and says, such baseness had never like executor. I forget: but these sweet thoughts do even refresh my labors, most busy lest, when I do it.”
Entering in from the right came Miyu, wearing a beautifully designed but drably-colored period dress. Slipping in behind her after she had approached the young man was an older man dressed in the robes of a mystic, complete with a staff. He quickly, but silently moved to the back of the stage, shrouded by darkness as he observed the two converse. Miyu went to the young man and laid her hand down on the log he held so close to his chest, bringing them close together. Miyu stared into the man's eyes.
“Alas, now, pray you,” Miyu began. “Work not so hard: I would the lightning had burnt up those logs that you are enjoin'd to pile! Pray, set it down and rest you: when this burns, 'twill weep for having wearied you.” She gestured to take the log herself, out of the man's hands. “My father is hard at study; pray now, pray now, rest yourself; he's safe for these three hours.”
The young man reached out with a hand, placing it on top of Miyu's. He looked close into her eyes. “'O dear mistress, the sun will set before I shall discharge what I must strive to do.”
Miyu smiled and gestured to a seat near the floor. “If you'll sit down, I'll bear your logs the while; pray, gi--” She was suddenly interrupted by a somewhat shrill electronic tweeting sound. Both her and her co-star's heads turned to look over at the robed man half-disguised in the darkness. He began fumbling about with his robes, setting his staff down with a clatter to fish about inside, before retrieving his tablet phone. He held it up and grinned underneath the fake wizened beard.
“Sorry, sir,” he said to the man just off the stage, glaring at them with the script in his hands. “I thought I had it turned off. It's my mom, you mind if I--”
“Go ahead,” the middle-aged man said with an exasperated tone. “Might as well wrap this rehearsal up for the evening. Miranda!”
Miyu turned suddenly to face the man, their director, Hiroshi Matsuyama, though everyone referred to him as Mr. Matsuyama. He was both the school's drama teacher and one of the part owners of a small theater made largely for classic play productions. Shakespeare was only a number of playwright authors given attention on this stage. The former actor pointed to Miyu. “Good job with the line delivery, but you get a little too direct sometimes with the way you move. A little bit more grace in your steps, a bit more caution and you'll nail it.” Miyu smiled.
“Ferdinand!” Mr. Matsuyama had a bit of a routine, where he would refer to the actors by their character names. It helped to get them associated with their lines in the play, or so he claimed. Miyu wondered if it was perhaps something adopted for her. In the first month of rehearsal and line reading, she kept missing cues because her social recognition software didn't quite register 'Miranda' as herself, leaving the poor girl confused, but she managed to clear it up eventually.
“Yes, Mr. Matsuyama?”
“Your delivery is a bit stiff in places, and you messed up a few lines. You powered right through it, though, so good job there and you're getting better with your delivery overall.” The young man, Miyu's co-star, smiled and nodded. He was a boy from her Drama class, Jiro. A nice guy and an excellent actor, though a bit shy.
“Prospero...Prospero!” Another one of her classmates stood up straight, putting his phone aside. “You did better than last week, but I swear, if that phone of yours goes off again, or you miss a cue because you're texting, I'm going to confiscate that until the end of the play. We're in dress rehearsal, here, I expect better.” The young man pulled the beard off, revealing an otherwise unremarkable face underneath, and nodded solemnly.
“As for the rest of you,” he said as he turned to address the actors who had been standing stage side, who had been filing out since the rehearsal had officially ended. “You're all doing well. Stephano, get a bit less hammy. Caliban, get a bit hammier and Alonso? This is a dress rehearsal. Leave the face jewelry at home. I think you'll find that brow piercings weren't exactly common on Italian sailors back then.” Everyone chuckled. “Alright! Good work, I'll see you for the next rehearsal!”
The actors mostly smiled and said their goodbyes, a few going down to talk to the director. Miyu was not one of them, and she headed to the back to the dressing room.
Once back in her street clothes, Miyu stepped out into the evening air. The weather was somewhat muggy for early summer, but it had given the sky a brilliant orange hue. She smiled as she looked out at the sun lowering over the skyline, peeking out a few brilliantly bright rays between the buildings. Today, she had decided to wear her hair long. The thought of going home had brought a new kind of excitement to her mind. Her denim jacket was as always on her shoulders, and she had opted to wear a purple shirt with the logo for No Break on the chest. A pair of jeans that covered her legs now went down to a pair of black booties. All in all, a little heavy for the heat, but Miyu's coolant systems would manage.
It had been a week and a half since that night when she and Arata had made love. It hadn't dampened their relationship in any way that Miyu could see, though it did change it in other ways. Miyu still loved her stepbrother like a stepbrother, but his and her behavior had shifted less towards legal siblings and more like lovers. Though they slept in different beds, Miyu would now meet her brother out in the hall, or in the kitchen, and they'd share an affectionate but passionate kiss. In the evenings, they'd make love. As the week went on, Arata became increasingly comfortable with getting more aggressive. And Miyu, despite thinking of herself as rather prudish (and certainly accused of such by Chise, if only half-jokingly, who had no idea of their relationship), found herself liking the aggression, the forcefulness he sometimes displayed. One evening, Arata had surprised her. No greeting, no welcome, just as soon as she had shut the door, he was on her.
Pinning her to the wall, pressing his hand between her bare legs to their denim-covered middle, gripping her breast with a firm hand. They hadn't bothered with a bed, having sex right there in the kitchen. Arata would later say that he wasn't quite sure what had come over him, save that his passion for Miyu had grown stronger, not dimmer, since their first night.
The thought of that made Miyu swoon slightly in the heat of the evening. She closed her eyes and smiled softly, pressing her thighs together as she recalled the memories. That was until she heard a voice call her name just as she approached her scooter.
“Inoue Miyu?”
Miyu turned to see the body that owned the voice around the corner of the building, a few of her costume-free friends crossing the street just a few meters behind. The woman's hair was such a dark mix of red and purple that it almost seemed to become iridescent, straight and extended to her shoulders. The face was beautiful, the smile warm and friendly. Over her chest she wore a tank top, her arms bare, revealing just how pale her skin was. From underneath the dark lenses of her sunglasses, Miyu could see a distinct blue glow that confirmed what she already knew. That the woman was a fellow android. A pair of shorts hugged her hips tightly, and her shoes were rather worn sneakers, the socks underneath extending to ankle height. A gym bag was slung over her right shoulder, which Miyu found a little odd, but she remembered that there was a gym nearby, though it was a faint recollection. It seemed a bit odd for an android to go there, but she knew that exercise was encouraged less as a means of staying fit, and more as a means of physical self-diagnosis and to keep one's moving parts calibrated. Some of course just did it to socialize with human associates.
“Yes?” She addressed the woman as she approached, the smile becoming friendlier and wider as she got closer, showing a glimpse of the perfect white teeth underneath. The rather impromptu meeting was throwing the 'younger' android off. It was hard for Miyu not to look down at the chest that was pushing out against such a thin top. I or J cups, at least, and a figure voluptuous enough to make sure they didn't stand out too terribly much. Miyu would be lying if the fire of attraction was not flickering a few embers in her personality programming, but despite the events of the past week, she would not give in to lust and let herself be distracted.
“My name is Hara Katsumi,” the woman said, bowing once and rather deeply. Rather shocked by the formality, it took Miyu a moment to return the bow and both parties rose. “I was watching your performance. I was in the back, so you probably did not notice me. I'd love to show you off to some people I know who say androids can't act.”
Miyu could not help but feel a bit flush in the face, even as her confusion and wariness mounted. Call it some artificial version of instinct, or perhaps just a threat detection program in the proverbial back of her mind, but there was something about this woman that made Miyu ill-at-ease. “Um. Thank you, very much! I hope someday that a wider audience can see that...”
The woman smiled and unzipped her bag. From inside, she produced a camera. Smiling, she showed it to Miyu. It reminded her a lot of a camera that Arata had been pining for. A large lens, a sleek red body and from what Miyu could see, a few extra features. “I hope you don't mind, but I sort of broke the rules. I know you aren't supposed to take pictures, but I thought you'd might like to review the photos?” The woman turned the camera around in her hands, as Miyu blinked a few times in confusion. She watched as the camera came on.
“Ah, Ms. Hara? I'm not really sure what this is about,” Miyu started, as Katsumi began to scroll through the pictures of Miyu on stage. “Are you a talent scout or something of that sort? I'm flattered but I am still in school and I--”
Miyu stopped talking. Her eyes were wide as she watched the camera continue to scroll through its pictures. In an ever-so-painstakingly engineered human manner, the color ran out from Miyu's cheeks as she watched what scrolled by.
They were pictures of herself and Arata. In their apartment. Making love on that couch the very first night. She turned her eyes up to look at the woman's face, which had become decidedly less friendly. A smirk was now on her ruby red painted lips, the edge of one side quirked up ever so slightly. Like the cat who caught the canary.
“Listen, I know it must be awkward to talk about this out on the street,” Katsumi said with an affable tone, though it was underpinned with a kind of satisfaction that made it clear the intention was anything but friendly. “So how about we go someplace a bit more private? I have a little place on the coast. We can talk there.”
Miyu's eyes were wide at the suggestion. She wanted to turn and walk away, or even run, but she knew better than to do that. Instead, she lowered her head, looked away and nodded, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. Katsumi smiled and put the camera back in her bag, zipping it up slowly, letting each tooth of the zipper click into place. Exaggerated, Miyu was sure, for her sake.
“Come on, I'll lead the way...Oh, and why don't you do me a favor?” Katsumi walked up to Miyu and reached out, taking her hand by the wrist and closing her fingers tightly on it. “Tell your brother that you are going to be staying the night at a friend's house...Make up any excuse you need.” She leaned in and whispered. “Try anything, and I'll make sure every one of your friends and your mother get those pictures in their inbox...” Rising up to a straighter stand, Katsumi smiled as if the threat had never happened.
Miyu, barely containing her anger, silently nodded. When Katsumi lightly tugged at her arm, Miyu complied, and walked along with her.
“Don't worry, I think you'll like the place...”
The place turned out to be a warehouse on one of Jinkoushima's old abandoned dock areas. It was a little used one, and the warehouses from the exterior had seen better days. The one that Miyu was led to after what felt like hours of walking (though she had a full charge and experienced no true physical exhaustion) didn't look any different at first. The sea air was mixed with the scent of oil, presumably from some of the rusted machines left on the dockyard. Miyu had known of such places through Arata's photography, and had suggested that he bring them to a city official, because Miyu felt they looked absolutely shameful. This place was better demolished, her feelings about her new 'associate' aside.
But as they went up to the entrance door of the warehouse, Miyu watched as Katsumi produced some keys. An android of her obvious quality (though her programming was clearly a bit dubious) living in a place like this? It surprised Miyu. But when the door actually opened and they stepped inside, Miyu was surprised by what she saw.
The interior of the warehouse had been refurbished. The floor was spaced with rather nice black marble tiles. The large space had been well-optimized, with a kitchen, workspace and living area complete with a computer and even a comfortable bed, with screens around it for privacy. There were a few pictures on the wall, and overall the place seemed like a nice, isolated spot to get away from it all. But any thought that Miyu had that the place was merely one for quiet relaxation or contemplation was thrown aside as she took a look to the back of the living space.
What at first appeared to be a gym of some sort on second look was quite clearly not that at all. The 'gym equipment' carried with it a lot of chains and shackles and straps. All of it seemed geared towards S&M play. Miyu wasn't exactly the innocent babe-in-the-woods that everyone had made her out to be. She was familiar with the fetish, and even fantasized about it. It was people like Katsumi, she thought to herself, that gave it such a bad name.
Katsumi walked around Miyu and set the gym bag down on a counter in the kitchen. “I don't eat of course, it's for when I have human guests over...” She smirked, and then turned to look at Miyu, leaning back on the counter in a way that, perhaps incidentally through programming or intentionally in some attempt at flirting, accented the prodigious curves of her artificial body. The sneakers were loose on her feet and she merely slipped them off, setting her glasses aside on the counter top soon after. “This is my first time doing anything like this, if you can believe that...” When Miyu said nothing, just glaring at her with an angry expression that Katsumi found more adorable than threatening, the bustier gynoid chuckled and shook her head.
“Fine. I suppose there's no real point in delaying this any further.” Katsumi then pushed herself away from the counter, looking Miyu directly in the eyes. “Take your clothes off. Strip completely, down to your bare skin. And don't get cute, or your brother will see these first, just before I send them to everyone you know...”
“How--” Miyu paused a moment, then sighed. She decided it would be better not to dispute how this woman could possibly get in contact with them, since she clearly managed to get those photos. Miyu shrugged her jacket off first. She was about to set it on the counter when Katsumi suddenly interjected.
“Toss it to the floor,” her blackmailer said, and Miyu did as she was ordered. She next worked off her shoes, having left them on as she came in, and used her feet to work her way out of her socks. Feet and arms bare, she next worked her shirt off, slipping it up and over her head. A light blue sheer bra held back her chest. A similar pair of panties were revealed as she unzipped and pulled her jeans down. Since Katsumi seemed keen on having her keep the clothing items on the floor, that was where they remained, though she pushed them aside with her feet towards a corner of the cabinets.
Katsumi watched with interest as Miyu unclasped her bra, glaring at the other android as the bra was pulled down her arms and away from her chest. With Miyu's breasts now bare, the panties soon followed, pushed down her thighs and taking the rest of the fall down themselves, bunching at her feet.
Katsumi put a finger on her lips, watching as Miyu stood there, blushing and glowering at her blackmailer. Katsumi chuckled and gestured with her fingers, before turning around. As she did, she pulled her top up and over her head, tossing the sleeveless top up and over her head. At first, Miyu thought she was heading for the bed, but she instead stopped near a wall of the warehouse-turned residence. She leaned against it, revealing her mid-sized tan nipples as she pushed her shorts down her legs. It seemed Katsumi did not bother with undergarments. Turning her head to look Miyu's way, Katsumi chuckled and said “you really are shy about undressing, aren't you?” The final items she slipped off were her socks, and she beckoned Miyu to come over with a single curling finger.
Miyu tried to hide her arousal, attempting to disable or otherwise disguise the functions that caused her to express arousal. It was difficult. Miyu was realizing that such displays were for the benefit of an owner, a customer more than anything else. Yet another reminder that she was a machine, and something that made her arousal spike in ways she could not disguise. By the time she had come over to Katsumi, embarrassment mixing with anger and arousal, the signs of her growing physical pleasure were outright and obvious. She didn't like this woman, in fact she was already starting to hate her. But her preferences and pre-set settings meant that this was, conversely, one of the most intensely arousing experiences of her life.
Looking at the slightly taller, equally naked android, Miyu was hardly surprised when Katsumi reached out, took hold of her arms and gave her shoulders a soft squeeze. What did surprise her was when Katsumi spun on her heels and shoved Miyu into the wall with enough force to cause her body to shake. Miyu gasped sharply, looking Katsumi in the eyes before their lips locked tightly. Miyu squirmed slightly under Katsumi's hands, which now traveled down to her arms. She felt Katsumi's warm body press against her own, their breasts pushing against each other as Miyu felt the aroused sensor-packed nubs press into her synthetic skin.
Katsumi broke the kiss off, pulling her head away slowly as Miyu stared into the other woman's eyes. She had never been kissed by another woman with such intensity before. Even though she had been programmed with the default android sexual state of bisexuality, she had never thought about another woman that way before the night at the club. To a kind of strange sensation of relief, Miyu found that while her feelings were strong for the kiss, she still felt a stronger sensation with Arata. Perhaps it was because she disliked this woman so much that--
Miyu's thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a shrill alert. It didn't so much as make noise, but it was an immediate and powerful system alert that diverted all processor focus towards the event that had caused it. Miyu snapped her head downwards to find Katsumi's hands hand thrust forward and had pushed into her chest, just above her breasts. Her upper chest access panel was now loose above her breasts, rattling as Katsumi's hands pushed deeper into the network of wires, cables and the stacked circuitry just underneath. Katsumi's hands had snapped out with the speed of vipers and the force of a freight train. Miyu's electronic mind allowed her to formulate a conclusion that the android must have had some illegal strength enhancement modifications before the hands deep amongst her electronic and mechanical insides pulled back suddenly and forcefully.
Sparks snapped wildly as Katsumi ripped free two handfuls of wiring, lubricant and coolant tubing, with some unfortunate chip boards and a power cable coming along for the ride. The resulting flash was blinding. Miyu's synthetic skin sensors registered the sensation of cool liquid running in small droplets over her large chest, as the severed tubes that normally ran coolant and lubricants through her body in carefully planned-out circuits suddenly began spurting both out the hole in her chest where the panel once lay and directly onto her electronics. The lubricant was non-conductive, but the coolant splashing over her circuitry caused several exposed electronic pieces to short out.
Miyu's vision was a mess of static and off-color pixels, forming a strange mosaic sight of Katsumi's shapely legs standing in front of her. The latency in her visual processors caused by all the damage was making what happened next look like a slide show in her vision, one that stopped, started and went back and forth.
In spite of the unknown factor of what this woman was going to do to her, the whole thing was driving her sexually wild. Even as Katsumi's hands clamped down on the sides of her head. She could do nothing but blurt out in an electronically tinted voice, which would have been monotone if not for the random rise in pitch and tone “Er-Er-Error Se-Seveerrree Da-Damage Recorded In All Sec-Sect-tors-tors.” She felt Katsumi's body straddle her own, despite the sparks and even an electrical bolt or two snapping from her chest, leaning in close as her systems alerted her to excess pressure alerts on her neck.
“I'm afraid, Miyu, that you are just a means to an end. But don't worry, I'll have you back in working condition very--” Katsumi was about to finish her sentence when Miyu's hand suddenly, but rigidly, snapped out and pushed its fingers into the right side of her face. Katsumi, like Miyu, like every other android in Jinkoushima did not experience true pain. Indeed, if anything, Katsumi was deeply pleasured by the sensation of her synthetic skin getting pulled down from her head, all the way to just above her lips, before a malfunction in Miyu's servo motor network made her pull her hand away. Katsumi bit her lip as she suddenly twisted her hands.
“Error In Servo--” Miyu blurted out, before her voice became an electronic babble, syllables half-starting and getting interrupted by bursts of static and electronic tones. They meshed well with the sound of a series of muffled metal pings underneath Miyu's neck. Miyu's lovely eyes were now flickering wildly, their light shifting between brightly glowing and barely visible at random intervals. Miyu's arms were fixed in the air, one bent upwards at the elbow slightly, the other pressed against the wall, fingers curled into a fist. Katsumi then twisted in the other direction, before going back and forth a few times, then yanked up sharply. Miyu's synthetic skin tore, but it took a few sharp yanks before the last few wire bundles and cables severed completely.
Katsumi held the other android's head as the power flickered and faded from her eyes, her face frozen in an emotionless expression, staring off straight ahead as Katsumi inspected her head up close. Miyu's neck now terminated in a bundle of sparking cables and torn tubes, the coolant and lubricants spurting and rolling down her chest, streaks of sky blue fluid rolled down her breasts in little droplets and stained the wall behind her.
Katsumi chuckled as the last of the sparking died down, and she walked with Miyu's head in her hands. The damage had been rather enjoyable, but it was not her true aim. Sitting down at her computer console, the deceptively powerful machine—designed for android program repair and maintenance—flashed a screen showing a stand-by state. Roaming her fingers over the sides of Miyu's head, Katsumi didn't find what she was looking for until she pressed down on the back of Miyu's head. How quaint, Katsumi thought, as she found the back of Miyu's head rising up with a hiss of tiny hydraulics. Turning Miyu's head to confirm that this was her target, she observed several teal blue quantum crystal circuitry boards sitting tightly packed and shielded by their own internal coolant pack atop a cluster of small, black square components. Underneath those was a metal plate that housed several sockets for hardline connections.
Katsumi connected several of those to Miyu's head, and carefully slipped a power lead up into a socket in Miyu's neck. There was a brief burst of sparks as Miyu's eyes began to dart about wildly, but only her base AI functions were online, her higher functioning deemed unnecessary and secondary by the computer.
Staring down at Miyu's head, the processors exposed, cables and wires running through it, Katsumi found herself growing intensely aroused. A hand slipped between her thighs as she used her other to begin swiping key commands into the computer. It was the sight of Miyu's internal workings so exposed, the realization of what she was doing, and the thought that at the end of the day, she could have been in just the same situation as the android in front of her made her body shudder in orgasm, though admittedly she was already at a high point from everything that had happened thus far. Despite the shaking of her body, the programmed need to make a lewd and powerful moan, Katsumi had entered all of the required commands herself.
The computer began reprogramming key sectors of Miyu's Artificial Intelligence, in a manner which she knew was patently illegal, yet still an exploit that so many con artists, corporate spies and thieves had taken advantage of. As she brushed her wet fingers against her inner thigh, she watched as the computer's flat-screen semi-holographic screen displayed several progress bars. At varying speeds, they all flashed little '100%' and 'OK' confirmations.
Katsumi elected to partially reactivate Miyu's AI. She'd lack her personality and emotions, but this was only a test to see if everything had gone to plan. She watched Miyu's facial features twitch slightly as the beginnings of a syllable looped for several seconds. Then, with her face completely still, Miyu calmly reported “S-System Er-Error. Multiple Har-Hardware Sec-Sectors Mi-Missing. Damage Detec-tected To Primary Motor Function Relays. Da-Damage Detected To Primary Sensor Relays. P-Processors Operating In Lim-Limited Function Mode.” When all that was done, Miyu's eyes turned with a slight but audible servo motor buzz in her head.
The optic sensors displayed to Miyu's mind the sight of Katsumi, with half of her face missing. Light blue gel sat in tiny plastic packs at her cheeks and on the side of her head just past her eye socket, resting on a loose assemblage of tiny plastic plates that, when manipulated by microservo motors just underneath, gave her face expression. The sea-green colored plates could just be seen ending as they went to her mouth, Katsumi's lips driven by a band of tiny black myomer muscle bands. Set deep in its socket, a glowing point signified where her visual sensor—a tiny camera-like device that would have fit in the palm of a human hand—sat surrounded by tiny wires and small motors designed to give her visual sensor a range of motion, in sync with an 'eyeball' that was there entirely for cosmetic purposes.
Staring into this face, the simplistic basic AI running in Miyu's processors, its emotional capabilities offline and its personality temporarily disabled, didn't hesitate for a moment before stating a canned response dictated by the new programming which had successfully installed itself in a very quick thirty minutes. “Hello, Mistress. I'm afraid my abilities to serve you are limited at the mo--”
Katsumi keyed in a command for Miyu's systems to shut down, which they did obediently. Katsumi began disconnecting Miyu's head from the computer, idly flicking a black power cable whose frayed end now hung loosely over the edge of the table. Katsumi had read somewhere that the body of your average android contained a combined thirty seven miles of wiring, tubing and cabling. Something that shocked her: she had expected it to be a higher amount.
She walked to Miyu's discarded clothing and rumaged through it, finding in her bag her phone. Pulling out the thin tablet device, she used it to both record Arata's phone number and to send him a text. 'Going To Be Late. Systems Acting Up. Visting Repair Center. May Be Here A While. Don't Worry, I Will Be Fin.'
Damn auto-correct to hell, Katsumi thought.
'Fine.'
Sending the text, she closed the phone and turned back to the headless robotic body slumped against the wall. “What a mess,” Katsumi thought, as she approached and took Miyu's stiff and unresponsive hand and arm. With that limb, she began the process of pulling Miyu's body apart. It would have to look convincing to the repair center when she brought it in. She already began wondering about her story. An attack by anti-android bigots seemed both plausible and something a good-hearted repair man (or woman) would not question too much. Perhaps she could even work in her own facial damage.
The first part of her plan was almost complete. The second would come soon after. She couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement at the thought of that, the more desired part of the plan. Soon, she would have Arata Inoue. Soon, a plan that had taken a long while, relying on the perfect opportunity, would be complete.
Katsumi wondered, sarcastically, if she ought to have been cackling at this point, as she wordlessly ripped Miyu's right leg off at the hip, tearing wiring and breaking the mechanisms that constituted her powerful hip servo motors...
Arata was getting concerned.
He had not seen Miyu for over three days, having had to pick up her scooter two days ago. He knew that sometimes, repairs could take a while. It could be upwards of a week before the technical center's engineers could find faults within the miles of wiring and dozens of chipsets within a gynoid like Miyu. But ultimately, even as skilled as they were, a week was rare and reserved only for the strictest of faults or damage. Anything too severe required a full body replacement, and Miyu was covered for a lifetime of service, thanks to her mother being an employee of the company that created both Miyu and herself. Such a thing shouldn't be a problem.
Arata thought about this as he laid back, staring up at the ceiling of his room, when he heard his phone vibrate against his desk. Arata had spent the last three days since his sister's last text worrying over what had happened. Arata wasn't a teenager anymore, but he was at times given to angst. It wasn't unexpected, of course, since the loss of his father. The pain of that loss ran deep, and he worried over his other relatives, his sister especially. She may have been an AI, but Miyu was closer than anyone had ever been, even moreso than his stepmother. His fingers trembled with nervous anticipation when he activated the messenger app, relief washing over him as he saw it was Miyu who had sent the message.
“Out from mech's. Staying @ friend's place.”
Arata's eyebrow raised. Sure, this would have been her first time going to and leaving repair center without her mother to escort her, but why would Miyu go to a friend's place rather than come back home? Shaking his head, he began sending his fingers over the keyboard on the touchscreen. Arata didn't normally text, but he had learned how to do it fairly well, as Miyu was a texting machine.
“Why u @ friend's place? I was worried, didn't hear from you for 3 days. Why aren't u @ home?”
Arata sent the message, and sat down on his bed waiting for the answer. Surprisingly, it came quickly.
“Cuz she picked me up.”
Arata was just about to respond when he saw another message was coming in.
“Not Chise.”
Arata was about to ask where Miyu lived, but the message preempted him. It seemed that Miyu knew what he would ask about. Quirking an eyebrow, he typed then sent his next text.
“Who?”
The response came quickly, yet again.
“New friend. She'd like to meet you. Come on by.”
Arata waited for the next text, and when it came, it listed the address. Both eyebrows were now raised in alarm. He knew this area code, knew the street where this place was. He had been there quite a few times in the past. It was the old, abandoned dockyards at the base of the island.
“Bring your camera.”
“What? My camera?” Arata said that out loud, before typing out a replica of that statement. He got a reply back at the usual speed.
“Just trust me, will you?”
Arata had to admit, that was something he hadn't expected Miyu to say. He shook his head, and then stood up, putting his phone in the pocket of his khaki shorts. He then walked over to his dresser drawers and pulled on a deep red shirt. He went down the stairs and, on his way out, slipped into a pair of well-worn white sneakers. Tying them up, he went outside, but then remembered Miyu's request. He went back inside and took the camera, slipping it into a camera bag he'd wear over his shoulders before picking it up and heading out.
Once he was out of his apartment building, he started walking down the street. Jinkoushima had been constructed in a manner like a plateau, with a gradual descent in the south towards the sea to create a beautiful beach. Given their proximity to the open ocean and the rough seas beyond, the island was made to hold back high stormy waves. The artificial rock that the island's bedrock was constructed of had been built from the bottom up on a honeycomb base. The docks that studded the northern and eastern shores of the island were relics of that time.
The docks had a nefarious reputation. There were, of course, the logical and tangible reasons. Jinkoushima, like any other city in the world, had it's poor unfortunates. While even the least wealthy, most blue-collar residents lived in housing that was the envy of many back on the mainland, there were still homeless people, illegal migrants and even criminals that lived and operated out of these areas. There were also the reasons of structural decay. The dockyards had always been a subject of contention, as one faction of the city government had wanted to demolish them. Another had wanted to preserve them as parts of the island's history, though the only way to get to them were narrow, sometimes untended pathways and the island's tunnel network, which ran throughout the base of the island like tunnels in ant farm. Several of these had been converted to sewers, maintenance junctions for the island's network of geothermic power systems and conduits for water piping to go through. But several sections had simply been filled in to prevent structural weaknesses, or just abandoned altogether. With both sides not making any headway in the debate and the debate itself largely put on the backburner with the more pressing issues that came with running a society such as Jinkoushima, the docks had been left to rot. They were full of hazards, and many had half-collapsed.
Then, there were other rumors. More fantastic and supernatural ones. Among those, there were the ghost stories. First were the rumors that the island had been built over some sort of undersea grave. A battleship from the Second World War, an oil rig that was the site of a terrible accident or some other great calamity befalling they who traveled the waves. While it was true that Jinkoushima had been built over the remains of an old oil rig, Arata had learned that it had been sunk intentionally to create an artificial reef over a century ago. Then there were the ghosts of construction workers who had supposedly died. Arata had never found evidence of such deaths, but that never stopped people from mentioning a 'cover up'. And then things got gradually more fantastic. Everything from sea monsters, to a secret government lab where they dissected aliens.
Arata was wary more for drug addicts and rusty iron beams than ghosts, monsters, government agents or aliens. But as he crossed through the abandoned dockyard, he had to admit that there was something eerie about the place. Between the dilapidated warehouses, the cracked pavement with patches of grass growing here and there to the shadow produced by the looming rock face that was Jinkoushima, the place just felt like it would be a prime candidate for something evil to lurk within. He could see why it produced such fantastic rumors and stories.
It also made for wonderful photo opportunities, but Arata never went any further than the outskirts of the area, taking pictures of the dockyard from afar. Today, however, he'd have to go much further than that.
Traveling from his home to the old dockyards required going on two public transport trains to one of the districts that was nearest to the shoreline that held the docks. The area was a residential suburb, full of wealthy homes. It wasn't gated simply because the residents themselves saw the island as a gated community itself, so Arata had no problems walking through the place. He only would get into trouble once he hopped a gate that led to the dockyards, but only if he was caught and quite frankly, the security guards both human and robotic saw no need to interrupt anyone from jumping the pitifully small fence. Arata figured they would think it was his problem. Miyu must have taken the same route and that thought surprised him. His sister breaking a law, however tiny it was, to go and hang out with a friend at an abandoned dockyard? Arata's concern began to grow as he began walking down the old access road beyond the fence.
The access road was mostly gravel and dirt, with a few coastal grasses sprouting up from between gaps in the stones, covering sections of dirt that the stones did not cover. As he walked down, he made sure to stay close to the rock wall of Jinkoushima's rocky base, rather than the rusty, thin, flimsy old safety railing. Arata tried to picture hundreds of people using this route to get in and out when the construction of Jinkoushima began and strained to do it. It just seemed impossible that so many used this route to get there.
When Arata got to the dockyard proper, he at least got a partial answer to his question. Towards the base of the island, there were old abandoned dormitories, whose roofs were partially caved. If Arata was made to guess, he presumed they just fell apart from the moisture of being so close to sea. He could feel the moisture in the breeze. The pavement around the dockyard was cracked and splintered here and there, with little stems and small patches of coastal grass sprouting up here and there. The warehouses themselves held up better, but not by much. Their sheet metal exteriors were miscolored with rust. One of them had at some point collapsed partially into the sea at the end of the dockyard, bits of metal jutting out. Arata could spy the indistinct masses of what looked like barnacles. At the far end of the dock, rows of shipping containers remained opened, their colors speckled with red-brown rust.
The place really did strike him as a scene from the end of the world. Arata couldn't help but snap a few pictures as he approached the address that he had been given. Warehouse 223.
Arata approached the warehouse labeled 223, and noticed how it looked intact, but little was different about it compared to the rest of the dockyard. The exterior was covered in rust, its sloped roof having clumps of moss. Sea birds walked about the top of it, or took rest on it. As he approached, her spied a cormorant, its long neck rising upwards as its hooked bill pointed at the sky. It might have made someone think it was a decoration, were it not for the sudden landing of a seagul nearby causing it to flap its wings in defense for a moment or two. The seabird menagerie weren't even disturbed as Arata approached the door. For some reason, his manners escaped him, and perhaps with the concern mounting, he put his hand on the doorknob and opened it, finding it was not locked.
He stepped in, and found himself looking at the same interior that, unknowingly to him, Miyu had been greeted with earlier. A well put-together kitchen and living room, an expensive TV and a computer that looked like an odd mixture of home PC and sophisticated industrial use. The far end was obscured by darkness, but at the edge of it, a soft light glowed behind the thin screens surrounding what Arata assumed was a bed. He assumed this because of the figure he saw lying there. Curvaceous, looking more like a figure from some tantalizing artwork than a real person, he suspected an android for that reason alone. As he shut the door behind himself softly, before he could even say anything, he was being addressed.
“You know that qualifies as breaking and entering, right? Just because the door was unlocked does not mean you can just come in.” The voice was older than Miyu's, carrying a sultry edge. He kept a hold of his camera as he watched the shadow of the figure behind the thin screen styled after a traditional Japanese art piece. The dark curves of the silhouette were contrasted by the light shades of the sakura branch that seemed to brush her body. In spite of himself, he found himself getting aroused when he saw how large the woman's chest was, and hesitated to answer as he watched her slip on what looked like a robe.
“Well?” The figure asked, as she tied the sash around her waist. Arata closed his eyes and turned his head away, letting out a quiet cough.
“I'm...I'm looking for my sister. Inoue Miyu. She texted me this address and...” Arata turned his head and opened his eyes, only to be met with the sight of the woman from behind the screen. A pair of thin black glasses sat on the bridge of Katsumi's nose, and she had tied her hair up to a bun on the back of her head. Arata could not help but notice that the robe, shimmering blue and green with images of reeds and lily pads in artificially treated silk, was straining to hold back her chest, a gap in the fabric showing her cleavage. The robe extended only mid-way down her shapely thighs. Her face was more mature than that of his sister, perhaps styled after a woman in her mid-thirties, but what he could see of her body had the seams of an android on her joints and panel sections. He cleared his throat as he stated again, more for his confidence than her convenience, “I'm looking for my sister.”
Katsumi smirked softly. “Hara Katsumi. A pleasure to meet you, Inoue Arata.” She gestured to the kitchen as she passed through the living room, stopping in it as she spoke. “Would you like some tea, or coffee even? You must have come across half the city to get here, Arata. I--”
Arata huffed and interrupted, feeling his worry mix with a rising sensation of anger. “Where is my sister? Where is Miyu?!” Arata took a step forward, having shouted that out louder than he had expected. Three days of worry suddenly exploding into an angry demand. But Katsumi remained standing, not intimidated by the outburst in the slightest. In fact, she smiled as she turned away and began to clean out a cup in the kitchen sink. Arata felt his anger swell in the seconds of silence that ensued. When Katsumi finally responded, Arata found the answer unsatisfying. “She's here, of course.”
Arata pulled the camera bag from around his shoulders and set it on a counter nearby. He crossed the distance to the kitchen and stood less than two feet from the woman, any thoughts of arousal over the woman's looks and shape thoroughly suppressed. “Where?!” Arata didn't even think about shouting. He just did it, too angry, too upset to really respond any other way.
Katsumi stood there, still washing out the cup, not moved by the shout and, if anything, smirking, knowing Arata could not see her expression. He was about to shout again, when from the corner of his eyes he spied a light coming on at the other side of the room. Turning his head, the sight that greeted him made his eyes turn saucer-sized.
At first, Arata thought he was looking at exercise equipment, before he spied straps and bindings, realizing that the equipment he was looking at was for a different kind of exertion altogether. But his eyes eventually fell on a piece of equipment that was shaped roughly like an X, made of silvery painted metal. In place of the typical, safe straps that held a person down, there appeared to be a thin, almost translucent wire. The only reason he picked up on them was because they were pressed so tightly into Miyu's skin, making them mostly visible. His stepsister had been stripped of her clothing, which was nowhere to be seen, the wires pressed against the points where joints and sections of her body connected. Her eyes were blindfolded, but her mouth was uncovered. Her legs and arms were spread out, though in spite of her bondage, she did nothing to actively struggle against it. Most of all, even from across the room, his familiarity with his stepsister made it plainly aware that she was aroused by this.
In spite of his stepsister's obvious pleasure, he turned to Katsumi and with as low and as threatening a voice as he could manage, practically breathed out “let her go, now.” Katsumi, however, did not seem to take the threat all that seriously, washing her cup out still, looking over her shoulder with a smirk on her face.
“Did you hear me?!” Arata's voice rose. “I said...Let her go, now!”
Katsumi turned around, and set the cup down hard enough to slam it against the countertop. The move made Arata jump slightly. “Or what? What will you do if I don't let her go?” Katsumi smirked as she walked right up to Arata, and placed a hand on his cheek, her voice calm, showing no insult at the sharp tone used by the young man. Arata's expression, for all its fury, faded as he struggled to find an answer. Hurting Katsumi seemed obvious, but even if he harmed an android, there were severe repercussions. After all, even if such damage could be repaired, Katsumi still (presumably) owned this place, and he was intruding. What evidence did he have that Miyu had been kidnapped, or otherwise forced here?
When Arata said nothing, his frustration rising, but his anger fading, Katsumi chuckled and said in a soft, condescending tone “that's what I thought,” before taking a step back. She turned and walked back to the kitchen, Arata following, taking a glance back to Miyu who was still visible in the mostly open construction of the interior, the ceiling looming overhead. It made the place look more like a movie set than an actual home.
“I want you to listen, Inoue Arata, and listen carefully.” Katsumi turned to face Arata, who stopped less than a few feet away. He remained quiet, taking Katsumi's words to heart. “I'm going to make this as clear to you as possible...I own your sister.”
Arata's eyes, not for the first and not for the last time today, went wide as he took in those words, let them ring through his mind, but couldn't quite bring himself to believe them. His eyes blinked in shock a few times, stunned to silence. It didn't make any sense.
The situation with AI's in the nation was one that so very often became a confusing confusing one, to those looking at it at its face. They were all built to serve humanity, and by and large did so willingly. There were exceptions of course, but there were no overriding pressures for them to do so. They did, however, have to abide by laws like any other citizen of the nation. That said, the sentiment was that they were still machines, one that even a vast majority of AI's held. Thus, both humans and a majority of AI preferred the concept of “ownership”. The AI's were still beholden to their programming and were programmed to follow rules and orders from specific individuals. In a rather socialistic bent, the nation technically “owned” all of its android citizens for the purposes of reprogramming, maintenance and repairs. Husbands, wives, mothers and fathers “owned” android relatives, though this too was mostly for the sake of formality in a nation well known for borderline excessive politeness and adherence to traditional ways and means. Often times, the matter of ownership had little impact on the lives—so to speak—of the machines in question, but it nevertheless allowed for a certain degree of control in the face of programming errors that might see an android refuse repairs, for instance. The androids that accepted ownership did so willingly, signing contracts to that effect. Binding and legal, they could be renewed or canceled after a certain period of time, and could be revoked should some excess of abuse or violation of the contract's terms in favor of the AI.
Still, it was a system that occasionally saw abuse. A skilled programmer could, with the right tools, override any prior ownership data settings. But even then, they'd have no legal right to do so, and any discrepancies in the public record would be corrected. Rarer still was the hacker who could also arrange to have their victim 'laundered', getting fake registration data to—on the surface—legally own the android in question. It was the AI equivalent of human trafficking, and a problem all over the world. By the time authorities could catch on, the victim might be half way across the world in a nation with no extradition treaty or with far less rights for its AI, completely rebuilt and reprogrammed. It was a frightening scenario, but fortunately one that was exceedingly rare. Few, even in the realm of organized crime, had the kind of government records access and legal influence required to pull it off. Fewer still would risk the obliteration of their careers and the jail time that came with getting caught.
Hence why Arata, more than anything, was in disbelief. He doubted how a single individual, such as Katsumi, could have possibly pulled such a thing off. He was about to protest to that effect, ready to call her out on a liar, when he went quiet as she walked over to the counter and to her wallet. From inside, she pulled out an ownership ID card. Katsumi herself, surprisingly, had no-one listed on the digital identification card, but a quick tap to the side displayed Miyu's image, one he recognized from Miyu's own license. The name listed had been changed to 'Hara Midori'. It looked official.
No sooner had Katsumi put it down, then she found herself being seized by her robes. Arata had snatched his hands out in anger, the wallet hitting the counter as he shoved Katsumi against the counter. Arata was not given to violence, but the rage he felt at the kidnapping of his stepsister, his lover, had forced him to act. “Fix this! Now! Or I'll--”
Katsumi, looked Arata in the eyes, not showing an ounce of intimidation as she brought his hands up to his wrists, stroking them. “You'll what? Hurt me? Damage me? Destroy me? I've got full coverage. I'll be in a replacement body with a back-up AI in less than seventy-two hours, you'll be arrested by the authorities once I give my statement and Miyu will be back in my hands. You'll be in jail and you will never see your sister again. By the time your stepmother comes back, to confirm Miyu is hers, both she and I will be well out of here, in nice new bodies with new faces that nobody will ever recognize.”
Arata huffed, and slowly let go, though he did not take a step back, keeping Katsumi between himself and the counter. Miyu remained silent, though she was craning her head about to listen to what was going on.
“What...What do you want?” Arata said, in a low, angry tone.
“Who says I want anything?” Katsumi retorted, putting a hand on a curvy hip.
“Because,” Arata replied in a matter-of-fact tone. “If you didn't want something other than my stepsister, you would have been gone already with Miyu. You had me come out here and you're telling me this for a reason.” Arata's voice rose sharply. “I want to know what it is!”
Katsumi chuckled softly. “Clever boy.” Arata took a step back as Katsumi adjusted her disheveled robes slightly, the confrontation having put her dangerously close to a wardrobe malfunction. “I knew you would be smart enough to put it together once I gave you enough pieces. But you still don't have the full picture.”
Katsumi smirked as she leaned back on the kitchen counter once again, arms slipping under her chest. “Your father was a wealthy man, far wealthier than you realize. He was once a senior executive at Pepco.” Arata recognized the name, as did everyone else. They were the company that had spearheaded the alternate energy solutions for everything from cars to the power sources of androids. Strange. His father had never mentioned such a thing.
“I was his lawyer at the time, but more than that, I was his lover, too.” Katsumi's statement once again widened Arata's angry eyes.
“Father was...” He couldn't finish. But Katsumi was more than happy to.
“Unfaithful? Why, yes he was. If it makes you feel any better, our mutual attraction was just as surprising to me, as well. Arata, your father, he loved me. It wasn't just some affair, two ships passing in the night or whatever colorful garbage you want to use to describe it. He and I were--”
“Cut the crap and get to the point!” Arata's anger flashed again, his hands curling into fists, restraining himself from launching at Katsumi again, but barely. He wanted to dismiss her words as lies, that she was malfunctioning, but all this effort must have had a reason behind it.
“Fine,” Katsumi said. “Your father eventually, suddenly, broke off the affair and quit his job. He married a woman from another company, an android I soon discovered, not too long after the death of his wife. Your mother. The thing was, before this point, when his wife was dying, he told me that he was going to set up a fund for the two of us, so that we could live our lives together.”
Katsumi's expression then soured. “Before I knew it, though, he cut ties with me and married your stepmother. He didn't even tell me that he had a son...I loved that man, Arata, as much as a woman like me can.” Once again, her face returned to one of confidence, a smirk crossing her lips as her eyes closed. “I'm over that now, though. What I want now is that money. He went to great lengths to hide it, as I now suspect he embezzled it.” Katsumi then chuckled. “Oh my, I realize now that this must all be a shock to you! Well, believe me, I know how you feel.”
Did she? Arata had always looked up to his father, even though he realized now that he had known so little about him. He was an embezzler? Cheating on his sick wife with this...woman? He let out a heavy, angry sigh, holding back his rage. Katsumi was lying. She had to be.
“Well, regardless,” Katsumi continued, “your father hid away that money. We're talking millions. And I want it. And you are going to help me get it.”
Arata's expression was one of slightly bemused confusion. “And just how am I going to do that? I didn't even know my father did this, how do you expect me to--”
Katsumi smirked. “Well, because, quite simply...you're family. When your father came here, he took out a safety deposit box at Jinkoushima First National. I believe that whatever is in there is tied to that missing money. I can't get in there, I have no legal right to. But you, you're family. I knew your stepmother would never allow me to have access and she was too well-protected, and your stepsister probably has no access to it herself. Which leaves you. And with your stepmother now away...”
Arata sighed. “That means that you now have the chance to blackmail me and get what you want.”
Katsumi smirked and nodded. “Still as smart as ever. Smart like your father.” She licked her lips, and then let out a sigh. “Do this, and one other thing, and I'll leave you alone forever. I'll give you back your sister, as once I am done with her here. I have no further use for her and no desire to keep her. All I want is what is rightfully mine...”
Arata's eyebrow raised slightly. “What other thing?”
Katsumi smirked, and what she said sent a chill up Arata's spine.
“I want you to help me destroy your stepsister...”