Issue #27 RRP $8.95 Rory Douglas Abel Aliette ... - Upgrade Systems

Random Acts of Destruction
Yakuza International’s headquarters is one of the largest buildings in Starlight. It’s
a golden skyscraper built to look like one of the palaces of ancient Japan. Their corporate
emblem, a black lotus in a white disk, is projected as a rotating hologram over
its highest peak. The only time I get to come to Starlight is when I visit Mr. Katsu.
I pass through the sliding doors into one of the most opulent spaces I have ever
been in. Everything is gold, marble and bamboo, all real. I have no idea where they
get the bamboo. Like a viper coiled in the grass its beauty hides its deadly secrets.
If I had not been authorized to enter I would have been dead before I was through
the door. The killbots by the elevators ignore me, as does the receptionist protruding
from the front desk. They do not consider the gun at my waist a threat; they all
know me.
I enter the elevator and press my badge against the scanner. They interface and
the elevator selects the very top floor: 300. He must be expecting me if he’s letting
me bypass his secretary. Normally, we pretend our encounters are formal events. The
elevator slides up without any sense of motion. The only way I know I’m moving is
the rising numbers displayed above the scanner. But the elevator could be lying to
me if it wanted to.
It evidently is not because the doors slide open and I step into the Katsu’s office.
It is larger than the entire floor my apartment is on. It takes up the whole level and
is surrounded by massive windows so that he can look out and down on Starlight. At
night, this high above the pollution, you can actually seen the stars and the colonies
on the moon. He showed me this as a birthday gift one year. His desk is at the center
of the room, made of real redwood, probably the last ever cut. The floor is also hard
wood, polished to the point of reflection. Besides his prized swords and a few rice
paper screens, the room is empty. Elegant in its Zen minimalism.
Mr. Katsu’s full name is Toshiro Katsu. He controls the production and distribution
of all drugs and other formerly illegal activities across the globe. Of course the Yakuza
do still partake of occasional illegalities, such as blackmail or corporate espionage, but
that’s more to please the spirit of Katsu’s great-grandfather than anything else.
Katsu is sitting cross-legged on the left side of the room, seemingly meditating.
He is wearing a loosely draped kimono of blue silk. I begin walking towards him. My
shoes don’t make any noise on the floor. “Toshiro, you’ve got some tainted RAD on
the street.”
He turns his head and looks at me. He had been spliced in the womb. He was born
with Tiger’s eyes and fangs, reduced to fit his jaw of course. His hair is blue fiberoptic
filaments. “I know.”
He stands, the kimono sliding from his shoulders. He is sporting the latest craze
among Yakuza, moving tattoos. Carps swim among crashing waves on his shoulders
while a tiger menaces a sword-wielding maiden on his back. “I’ve had it recalled,
we’ve found almost all of it. It’s only a matter of time before we get the rest.”
“Do you know how it was tainted?”
Katsu smiles and shakes my hand when we reach each other. I’ve known him for
years. Ever since he took my accidentally saving his life as an invitation to start a
friendship. It was a one-sided relationship at first; a lot has changed since then. “Ah,
but that is your job and I suspect you already have a theory. You always do.”
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