I didn’t expect to return to the onsen.
“When this is over, I’m going to get customized,” I said when we headed down to the station, where we would catch a train to the landfill. It was a warm, bright morning, white fluffy clouds covering the sky. They reflected in Sera’s sunglasses when she looked up. “Should I get shorter, like Charlie?”
“Shorter?” Sera snorted. “What for?”
“For you to kiss me without having to step on a stool, for example.”
I expected her to laugh or blush, but Sera was silent, her expression hidden under the rim of her hat. I thwarted an influx of worry before it triggered my collar, diving into myBro Signallibrary for advice. According to one of the most popular articles, she was playing hard to get. I stopped reading and glanced at Sera, unconvinced. Everything she did, she put her whole heart into. Sera didn’tplay.
“I don’t think I’ll go back to MSA once we return,” I said when we stood on the platform, waiting for the train to arrive.
She took a deep breath, sighing. I analyzed the scents in the air. Freshly mowed grass, some blooming weeds whose scent wasn’t in my database, a faint whiff of tempura chicken, and the fragrance of Sera’s skin oil mixed with her body chemistry. My pleasure sensors pulsed longingly, and I ran a cooling program.
“What do you want to do?” she asked after a longish pause.
“I don’t know yet. Would you be willing to see me from time to time? Not openly if you’d rather not. I know it’s not something you’d want to advertise, considering your job.”
Her mouth twisted in a grimace, and she looked up. I ran through filters, finding one that let me see her eyes clearly through the tinted glass. She looked anxious and upset.
“I… I don’t know. It’s no use worrying about the future if I’m not even sure we’ll get out of this alive, right?”
I nodded, suspecting why she was reluctant. I skimmed through all the speculation on Sera’s disappearance online. She wasn’t a huge influencer by any means, but she was one of the loudest spokespeople for anti-AI sentiments. Her followers were worried now that she hadn’t posted for over a week. Some suspected she was kidnapped or blackmailed by the companies she so tirelessly fought against.
I looked at the posts and comments.“We love you, Sera! Come back to us!”So that’s why she was silent. How could she be with me when she had all this—people who followed her every word and depended on her to make the world right? She was a modern savior and they cheered her on.
Sera reported on the most egregious cases of robot malfunction, many of which led to someone’s death or mutilation. She fought hard for the manufacturers to be made responsible, and sometimes, her voice tipped the scales, getting the family of the deceased a generous settlement. For some people, she was the only hope.
If she was seen with me at her side even once, all her credibility would be gone. She’d lose her influence.
My vague fantasies of following Sera everywhere she went suddenly melted into nothing. It would end, I realized—as soon as our Japanese adventure was over.
She’d never give up her fame and power for me. I deluded myself.
“You’re missed by your followers,” I said, a hollow feeling spreading through my core. “Don’t you think they deserve…”
“To know I betrayed them?” she snapped, folding her arms on her chest. “Don’t worry, I’ll get my comeuppance soon enough. Where is that train? Aren’t they supposed to never be late?”
“It’s another minute until arrival,” I said, grudgingly engaging Charlie’s algorithm to help me through this conversation.
It marked Sera’s responses as defensive and guilt-driven, suggesting to give her space.
We spent the short journey in silence, getting off on a stop surrounded by wilderness. We were almost an hour away from central Neo Tokyo by train, and the region was peaceful and filled with forests. Sera’s shoulders relaxed when we set out down a narrow road, passing a few tanuki dwellings surrounded by small gardens.
I knew the beautiful landscape was deceptive. The road wound through the forest, which hid our destination until we rounded the final bend, and Sera stopped with a gasp of shock.
Ahead of us, a tall wire fence topped with barbed wire was a stark boundary between nature and the landfill. Red and yellow signs warned against radiation and toxic waste. Hills and towers of rusting metal loomed on the other side of the fence. Not a speck of green in there.
“It says it’s dangerous! But… Why is it…”
“I don’t detect any radioactivity, but if I do, we’ll get out of there at once,” I promised. “The signs are mostly here to keep out thieves and thrill seekers. It’s safe to go in.”
“Safe,” she scoffed with disbelief, eyeing the barbed wire. “And how…”
“There’s a gate. This way.”
I took her hand and guided her along the fence toward a short gate. The simple electric lock was not a challenge, and soon, we went through. Sera jolted when the gate thudded, closing behind us, and eyed the landscape spreading in front of us with awe.
“The mass production of robots started about fifteen years ago,” I said as I pulled her down a narrow path between two enormous hills of scrap metal. “Back then, new models came out every few months, turning the old ones obsolete. Plus, of course, many were faulty, especially the Zenkyoza ones. This landfill holds all the discarded tech from Honshu.”
