Chapter Text
In an empty patch of desert, an arid, dull nondescript piece of land, there lived a man. The desolate soil’s monotony was broken only by an occasional scrubby, dying cactus, and a few sand dunes that shifted nervously in a wind providing the only motion and sound to an otherwise very stagnant scene.
The man lived in a house, a ramshackle made of corrugated steel, driftwood and unknown material. He also owned a beat-up old car, squatting in the sun that went nowhere - for there was nowhere to go. Beyond and behind there was a tiny tool shed housing a small generator.
He looked up towards the painfully blue sky. The strange, sick, white gleam of the sun blinded his eyes. He walked over the house’s outer wall and grabbed a piece of metal to scrap the wall’s texture.
“Fifteenth day, sixth month... the year four.” – he says.
He looks at the sky once again, putting a hand over his strong face to block the torrid sun.
“All the days and the months and the years the same.” – he sighs.
He had developed this habit of talking to himself, to keep himself company to know that it was real.
He continues:
“There'll be a supply ship coming in soon, I think. I hope it's Date's ship because he's a good man and he brings things for me.”
…
The man sleeps in a hammock. There's the distant roaring sound of engines, a flash of light that shines against the side of the shack and blinds him.
The man wakes up abruptly to see a giant spaceship landing on the desolate wilderness.
From it a group of men come out dressed in simple pilot uniforms. The man living in the desert raced out to meet them. There seems to be a commander, a leader of this group of space aeronauts.
He speaks, in a formal tone. “Inmate no. 93, Hikaru Iwamoto, I gather.”
“Naturally.”
The pilot laughs and lends a hand.
“How have you been, Hikaru?” He holds out his hand.
The other man shakes it excitedly.
“Alright. It’s very nice to see you!”
He picks a notebook and a pencil from his pocket. “Great! We got you all the supplies for the next 5 years. “Are you alright, health wise?
Hikaru nods.
The pilot scribbles on his notebook. “Good, that’s good.”
“Yes, it’s all good officer! But it’s a bit lonely, you know? Why don’t you come inside? I’ll make you some nice coffee.”
The captain declines:
“I'm sorry, Hikaru. If we delay our time of departure any more than fifteen minutes, that places us in a different orbital position. We'd never make it back to earth. We'd have to stay here at least fourteen days before this place was in position again.”
Hikaru’s eyes shine of joy:
“Fourteen days? Why not have us a ball? I've got some beer I've saved. We could play some cards, tell me what's going on back there – “
One of the flyers, overhearing the conversation, snaps:
“What? In this stinking hell, with a murderer? You gotta be kidding me!”
The prisoner closes his hands into fists, taming his anger. “You’re not the one that has to live here, are you?”
The pilot laughs in disdain. “No. But I've got to come back here four times a year. And that's eight months out of twelve, inmate Iwamoto, away from earth. Sometimes my kids don't even recognize me when I come home.
“But hey! You've got it all neat, don't you? Makes for simple living, doesn't it?”
He bends down and picks up a handful of sand.
“Inmate Iwamoto’s kingdom.” He lets the sand run through his fingers. “Right here. Six thousand miles north to south. Four thousand miles east to west, all yours! For free! Miles and miles of nothing.” He sneers.
The captain takes a step toward him to keep him back.
“Back off, Sakuma. You and Shota go back and get the crate. Bring it over to the shack.”
Chagrined, the inmate inquiries:
“Date... what about the pardon?”
After a long silence, the commander says, his voice very matter of fact.
“You're out of luck, Hikaru. Sentence reads fifty years and they're not even reviewing cases of homicide. You've been here four now. That makes forty-six to go. A piece of advice: you should get comfortable here.”
The pilot turns his head to the inmate and sighs, putting a hand on his shoulder.
“Look, I brought you something. I can't bring you freedom, but I can bring you something that can fight your loneliness and sanity.”
Hikaru nods, his head facing the sand.
“Thank you, officer.”
The pilot continues:
“When you open up the crate there's nothing you need to do. The... item has been cleaned. It needs no activator of any kind. The air will do that. Completely automatic. There'll be a booklet inside, too, that can answer any of your questions.”
Hikaru looks up.
“You're being mysterious as hell, Date.”
The official looks at him for a few seconds, checks the watch on his wrist and runs towards the spaceship.
“Hikaru!” He shouts, turning his head towards the lonely man. “He’s charging for now. He’ll be awake by morning! See you soon!”
Hikaru watches the team go, shading his eyes again at the sun, a puzzled look on his face.
“He? Charging?”
…
The morning came. Hikaru woke up, cleaned himself and made breakfast. He walked over the house’s outer wall and grabbed a piece of metal to scrap the wall’s texture.
“Sixteenth day, sixth month of the year four.” – he says.
He stopped on his tracks. This morning seemed very different from all the others.
He walked slowly away from his shack’s entrance and notice a big metal box on left side.
He continues ambling until he looks down at the box. He stares at it for a long moment, then he kneels down to feel its sides and finally finds the two release catches. His hands go out to touch them simultaneously. He pushes them, and very slowly the top of the box opens.
Hikaru’s face and eyes widen with astonishment.
There seemed to be a human male inside the box. His features were very pale. His hair was light brown and he had very long eyelashes. He was dressed in earth-toned, simple, loose, flowing garments.
Hikaru sees a tiny book in one of the upper corners of the box, next to the android’s head. He grabs it silently without waking the man up… or activating it, and stares at the cover for a long moment. Opens it with both his hands. He studies it perplexed for a long moment; then he looks at the android again. Then he looks down at the book again and slowly he reads aloud.
“You are now the proud owner of an android built in the form of a man. To all intent and purpose this creature is a human, not a robot. Physiologically and psychologically he is a human being with a set of emotions, a memory track, the ability to reason, to think, and to speak. He is beyond illness and under normal circumstances should have a life span similar to that of a comparable human being. The production unit affectionately named it Fukka (name can also be changed to the one desired).”
“Yes, that's my name, Fukka. Do you mind telling me yours?”
His voice sounded almost human, apart from the synthetic nuances it emitted.
Hikaru’s head rises very slowly. Fukka, the android, had moved to a sitting position while he was concentrating on the words written on the book, looking back at him. While he looked human, there was something too immobile, too emotionless about his features. There is a deadness to the eyes when they look back at him, showing neither resignation nor interest and only bare awareness.
Hikaru takes a few hesitant steps away from the box, his eyes wide, a fright working its way out. His mouth moves but nothing comes. His mind had many thoughts. His vision was groggy from the fear, confusion and anger.
“You- you need to leave.” His voice trembled.
“Get out of here! I don't want you here! GO!”
He stomps towards his house and slams the door shut. He leans against it, eyes closed, breathing heavily and gradually his composure comes back. He takes a few steps back toward the center of the room. He looks toward the window.
The man, now standing, stares at him.