United States of Japan Read Online Free PDF Page B

strip show–”
    The man removed a flap of the skin on his belly, which made Ben wince until he saw a leathery strip with tiny circuits embedded into his flesh and bone. He took out a wire from his kimono and plugged it directly into a circuit in his belly. The flap of his skin was fake, but the wiring had dried blood and fat on it, a telephone soufflé built into his guts. Ben had heard of private messengers making phones powered by the biochemistry of their body, electric pulses from the heart, additional radio connectors integrated into their intestines. But he’d never seen a “flesh phone” directly. Utilizing them cost a fortune and he couldn’t imagine anyone would have anything that important to say to him. These calls were impossible to trace, undetectable to metal scans, and the messengers themselves were merely relays, having no information in case they were caught. They were the only guaranteed way to guard against detection by the two groups of secret police, Kempeitai and Tokko .
    “Your call, sir,” the man said through his female mask of ermine. “Can you give me your portical?”
    Ben complied and connected the wire directly into his portical, curious who had gone through all this effort just to speak with him. He attached it to a microphone he placed in his ear.
    “Did you know?” a voice asked.
    “Know what? Who’s this?” Ben demanded.
    “Did you know?” the voice repeated.
    “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
    “Did you know about Claire?”
    “Claire who?”
    “Claire’s dead,” the voice on the other side said.
    The voice seemed familiar. “General?” Ben probed.
    “Claire’s dead,” the voice repeated, though this time with measured pain.
    “What do you mean, Claire’s dead?”
    “I’ll slice those cursed sloths into a million pieces and fry them up through a hundred hells and feed them to guinea pigs for what they did to her.”
    “Is this you, General?” he asked, even though based on his baritone voice, he was certain it was.
    “She didn’t know anything. She had to die for my mistakes.”
    “Is there something I can do to help?”
    The other voice snorted. “You can’t even help yourself, Ishimura.”
    “Then why did you call me?”
    “Because she trusted you and because I can’t arrange her funeral rites from where I am. See to it that she gets a proper burial. Not a Shinto ceremony. An American, Christian one, the way she wanted.”
    “Are you sure she’s dead?”
    There was a long pause.
    “General?” Ben called, wondering if the communication had dropped.
    It hadn’t and the general said, “It is my greatest shame and regret that I could not protect the two people who were dearest to me… Will you do it?”
    “Of course. Where are–”
    The phone disconnected. The messenger unhooked Ben’s portical, closed his belly flap, and began dressing in his kimono. The birds were still squawking.
    “If you talk about this communication to anyone tonight, I have orders to kill you,” the messenger warned.
    “What about tomorrow?”
    The courier ignored him and left.
    Ben followed, wanting to ask questions. But the man was nowhere in sight. It took all of his discipline and restraint not to dial Central Communications right away. He went to the bathroom and washed his face. It had been years since he’d last seen Claire. Their parting had been on less than pleasant terms. Once he’d calmed his nerves, he stepped out and called the CC through his portical. “Can I help you, sir?” an operator asked.
    “Is there any information on the death of a Claire Mutsuraga?”
    “I’ll be happy to check that for you Ishimura-san. How is your day today?”
    “Couldn’t be better. And yourself?”
    “It is always a beautiful day in service of the Emperor,” the operator pleasantly noted. “There is no information on the death of a Claire Mutsuraga, though there are five with the same name in Los Angeles who are alive. Are you looking for a