“Thank you for taking the time for this interview, miss Shimada,” the interviewer began, a light smile stretching across his face.
“It is my pleasure,” Kiho replied, crossing her legs. “I am always happy to talk about our work.”
The interviewer nodded and shuffled some papers around. “Well, let’s begin. Your recent research has been into some ancient archives of knowledge, translated from an older writing style and quite far removed from modern languages.”
“Mm-hmm,” Kiho mumbled with a brief nod. “It was difficult at first, but eventually we found some texts that seemed to mix styles. With cross-correlation, we were able to reveal more of this ancient style and eke out a meaning to them.”
“According to the university’s announcement, you were able to translate some stories in this ancient form. Can you describe a few of them for us?”
Kiho sat back and nodded again. “There were a number of stories, all traced to an unnamed bard. He may have had a name, but so far we’ve been unable to find what it was. He was constantly traveling, going from one land to the next, and seemed to be a collector of tales from all over the country. One stands out as particularly interesting: he described a land ruled by a goddess who could generate and control iron at will. She was said to be extremely lonely until a man who couldn’t speak married her. He was described as ‘Kaerugo the record keeper.’ “
The interviewer rubbed his chin, then opened a hand. “What makes the story different from others?”
“The way the bard describes it,” Kiho answered, “this was a violation of the god’s conventions. Humans and gods were not to mingle, according to the tale, and this Kaerugo violated them to wed ‘Hagasami’ — the goddess. The heavenly gods were said to strike down those who were in violation, yet did not do so in this instance.”
“Perhaps indicating a taboo relationship? Upper and lower classes? Untouchables?” the interviewer asked.
Kiho shook her head. “No, not according to the bard. According to him, Kaerugo was out of place in many ways, having an appearance that was unique and different from other people. The way it is told, Kaerugo had many secrets and forbidden knowledge, particularly knowledge of steel.”
The interviewer raised his eyebrows. “But steel has been known to exist in many forms, predating these texts, yes?”
“We’re not certain if these people had access to steel or the tools to make it,” Kiho elaborated, shifting a hand aside. “Bronze is described frequently in the era, but iron was apparently considered weak and steel relatively unknown. Steel in particular was said to be a heavenly metal and forbidden knowledge for earthly inhabitants.”
“Hmm, so this ‘Hagasami,’ she had the ability to control iron?”
Kiho nodded. “She is described as having the ability to ‘manipulate the iron within blood.’ There are other texts describing her as wielding a unique combination of two iron swords, the appearance of which glowed. The legends say she could generate them from the palms of her hands, along with formation of other iron objects. A description said she always carried an iron frog on her shoulder, as she apparently favored frogs.”
The interviewer chuckled and made a small note on a page. “Strange behavior for a goddess.”
“Yes, it was one of her widely known characteristics,” Kiho added with a smile. “Some claims were made that she formed from frogs herself, but that is likely false and added by enemies to harm her image.”
“So, what happened to her?”
Kiho shrugged. “We’re uncertain from what we’ve translated so far. The bard’s work doesn’t encompass her whole history and is simply from a visit and a promise to this Kaerugo that he would spread word of their marriage throughout his travels. Some other texts report that her lands were taken over by another goddess, ‘Gensurashi,’ but we have only found a few references to her.”
“And this bard, where does his story end?” the interviewer asked, knitting his fingers together.
“According to the texts, after he relayed his stories to a record keeper, he wandered up a mountain and was never seen again. The record keeper ascribed it to the heavenly gods taking him to the stars, as his faith was not to the earth, but the heavens, and thus he was allowed to ascend.”
The interviewer lifted an eyebrow. “Suicide, perhaps?”
“We suspect it is more likely he died of old age and the recorder was embellishing per his faith,” Kiho answered.
“Are there any other records regarding this ‘Gensurashi’?” the interviewer inquired.
“From what we’ve translated, very few,” Kiho remarked with a light shake of her head. “There are some that claim she took the position of Hagasami’s guardian, which seems absurd, but we’ve only just scratched the surface of the documents we have. More terms have to be translated and it’s an arduous process, as we’re going across five different writing systems.”
The interviewer nodded and made another note, then glanced up to Kiho. “What of those who say you’re committing sacrilege of cultural artifacts? Do you have a response for them?”
“We handle these records with great care,” Kiho answered with a smile. “We also have not uncovered any artifacts in our searches. Most of what we’re doing is evaluating the writing systems and making translations, not digging through the earth for gold.”
“But not entirely,” the interviewer added expectantly with an open hand.
“Any time we conduct field digs, we are always careful and cognizant of the surrounding cultures,” Kiho sternly replied. “This isn’t like it was a hundred years ago when rampant theft was prevalent around archaeological sites. We ensure that any local cultures have the final say in what we do and allow them to take ownership of what we find.”
The interviewer again nodded and made yet another note on his papers. “Hmm. And what of the scholars who say you are defiling religious texts by reading them?”
Kiho lifted an eyebrow at the interviewer. “I don’t quite understand the question.”
The interviewer glanced up and held his pen forward slightly. “The records you have came from religious archives, most of them scattered in shrines across the country. Many of them were considered sacred artifacts by the shrines — the common belief being that these records were from the gods themselves. Many priests and priestesses have said only that only those within the order are allowed to access and analyze these records, and to allow those outside of the religion access is to defile them.”
“We asked for their permission before accessing those records,” Kiho replied as she shifted her face into a frown. “We took great pains to ensure there were no objections.”
The interviewer held a finger up and looked through his papers, then pulled out a page and handed it to Kiho. “This is a written objection by a priest from a small shrine in the western part of the country. He claims that government agents held him at gunpoint and demanded he allow the university access to the shrine’s records.”
Kiho looked over the page and quickly read it. She scoffed and handed it back. “Mr. Hara denied us access at first, then later contacted us and offered to let us review the pages if we paid him. We told him that the university had no money for such a thing and that we would either access the records freely or not at all. Nothing came of it so we assumed he didn’t want to give us access, then later he said the gods told him to allow us access.”
“Nonetheless, that is an objection, yes?” the interviewer charged.
“The university received that letter and we returned the records as soon as we were able. They had already been digitized when he sent that letter.”
“Did you use any of his records?”
“No, per his objections, we set the files aside and restricted access to them. If he should change his mind again, we’ll likely insist on a contract to ensure we can retain access as required.”
The interviewer nodded and made another note on a page. “Miss Shimada, do you consider yourself a spiritual person?”
Kiho pursed her lips, then let out a sigh. “I can’t say that I do. Most religions are simply ways of trying to explain what can’t easily be explained. As our knowledge has grown, the need for faith to explain the world at large has lessened. For example, if we are to take this Hagasami and her ability to manipulate iron, what reason would she have for such a power? It is more likely that the people of her era were trying to ascribe some property of working iron into a usable form that they couldn’t explain.”
“That is a logical possibility,” the interviewer conceded. “But to this day, a great many people still have faith, as evident by the numerous shrines across the country. Is it right to violate their beliefs because you have none?”
“That is why we are very careful in what we do,” Kiho answered while narrowing her eyes. “You will find that many shrines denied us access to their records and artifacts; we have respected their wishes and not attempted to force our way in. Mr. Hara is a unique case and unfortunately was very difficult to deal with. In every other instance, we were either allowed access or denied. We’ve accommodated everyone to the best of our ability.”
“But there were still some objections, indicating that it’s not always possible to take great care, as you say,” the interviewer concluded, bringing his hands together.
Kiho impatiently sighed and nodded. “As I said, we do the best to our ability.”
The interviewer smiled and glanced over his papers again. “Mr. Hara later claimed the records were damaged and that some were missing. Do you have a response to those allegations?”
“We thoroughly documented and numbered the records,” Kiho answered with the wave of a hand. “We returned the records and Mr. Hara signed off on each one. We have pictures of him signing the paperwork, just in case.”
“According to Mr. Hara, one of the most sacred documents was missing, along with an important part of another being damaged.”
Kiho frowned and shook her head. “That isn’t possible. We returned the entirety of his records and made sure they were complete and undamaged. When we returned them, he inspected all of them and said they were all present and in better condition than he had sent them in.”
The interviewer held a finger up. “He claimed that he was forced at gunpoint to sign off on the records and that he was not allowed to inspect them.”
“That would be rather hard to claim, considering that I was the one who personally saw him signing off on the records,” Kiho replied. She folded her arms and let out a breath. “Mr. Hara has some problems with a failing shrine due to a shrinking village. I feel sorry for him, but he’ll not swindle the university out of money.”
“Perhaps, miss Shimada, if more people like you had faith, Mr. Hara would not feel the need to ‘swindle’ the university, as you so succinctly put it.”
Kiho leaned forward and opened a hand. “Faith is a very personal thing. To claim I have faith when deep within my mind I do not would be disingenuous as well as insulting. Once again, I’m sorry that many shrines are losing followers, but that’s the nature of human advancement. We no longer need faith to explain things like how iron is worked or why storms happen.”
The interviewer nodded and shifted his papers around, reviewing his notes. “You mentioned digitization of records. Can you explain more of that process?”
Kiho nodded and adjusted her shirt, trying to recompose herself. “We take pictures of the scrolls and parchment, in a high resolution, along with a note of where the record is from and other information. The pictures are put into a database and sorted with a processing algorithm.”
The interviewer glanced up and lifted an eyebrow. “One of the new artificial intelligence systems that the university is developing?”
“It’s not artificial intelligence,” Kiho answered with the shake of her head. “It’s just a pattern matching system. While we’ve used some of the computer department’s systems in its development, it’s not truly aware.”
“Has this system been used in translating the records?”
Kiho lightly bowed her head. “Yes, it’s been very useful in taking our input and creating correlation with the various writing systems. It’s taken a great weight off of our shoulders in interpreting these old languages.”
The interviewer leaned back and rubbed his chin for a moment. “So no one has literally translated these records. It has been this system.”
“No, I actually made the first translations,” Kiho corrected the interviewer. “We used my data to train the algorithm and it works from my model.”
“Hmm, I see,” the interviewer mumbled, making another note on a page. “Have you reviewed the accuracy of the system’s translations?”
“Yes,” Kiho answered. “Every now and again we do a manual translation of works and compare it to the system’s. There have been a few cases where it was inaccurate, so we corrected it. We rely on it to give us a general idea of what we might be looking for, then focus our attention on parts that seem more important.”
“More important?”
“Some records are simply a description of the day or the weather at that time,” Kiho explained, gently opening a hand. “These usually mean nothing in the grand scheme of things. On the other hand, we’ve found some records attributed to a ‘Chiya’ who described developing a language with one’s hands. These are more important than reports on the weather, because it could link us to other written tongues and further our research.”
The interviewer brought his hands together. “And you are relying on the accuracy of the art- excuse me, the system to flag what’s important?”
Kiho nodded. “We’ve set it to let us know when a record involves a named individual or similar anomaly. Usually, if an individual is named in a record, it indicates some level of importance. In other cases, sometimes a particular individual comes up multiple times, as is the case with the unnamed bard.”
The interviewer made a few notes with his pen, then looked back to Kiho. “What do you think of certain tales like the classic ‘Forgotten Masters’?”
Kiho blinked and lifted an eyebrow. “Is there a relevance to that question?”
“The tale has been attributed to a traveling bard,” the interviewer explained. “Some believe the unnamed bard was the one you’ve found in your records.”
“It’s possible,” Kiho answered with a shrug. “We would need to review more of the records to fill out an effective picture to determine that. Some he only mentioned in passing, like the legend of steel. According to the record keeper, he said it was a tale few were ready to hear, so he only told it to select communities. We haven’t found out what those communities might be.”
“It’s in reference to your system, miss Shimada,” the interviewer clarified with a small wave of his pen. “Some say the tale refers to the danger of automatic systems and computer intelligence.”
“The tale is one of faith,” Kiho replied while shaking her head. “The original meaning is not to become attached to earthly things, because they are fleeting, while one’s soul is not.”
“But still, another interpretation could be to caution us against too much technological advancement, yes?”
Kiho briefly bowed her head in agreement. “That is a possible conclusion, yes.”
The interviewer nodded and opened a hand to Kiho. “Given that, could that explain why certain shrines object to your usage of their records? That by using machines to interpret the language automatically could constitute defiling them?”
“Not all shrines reference that particular tale,” Kiho answered. “But yes, it’s possible that’s why there were some objections. We explained in detail the process we would use to digitize the records so that everyone would understand what we were doing.”
“Given these new technologies, do you think it will put people like you out of work?”
Kiho lightly shook her head. “I can’t answer that with certainty. While the new system we’re working with has aided us greatly, I can’t state that it will always be there or widely utilized. It has been helpful for us, based upon the data we’ve provided, but that’s not going to be the same across the world.”
The interviewer made a few marks on a page, then lightly smiled. “One more thing before we conclude: Many records are said to contain the origins of the gods within their words. Do you believe these records are divine?”
Kiho shook her head. “No. Some records refer to a so-called ‘Age of Warring Gods,’ but they’re more difficult to translate. The system is unable to make sense of it, so we’ve manually translated where possible.”
“Do you have any explanation as to why the system has issues with those particular records?”
“It’s because the linguistic concepts don’t easily transfer to modern language,” Kiho answered while opening a hand. “We have to make certain assumptions about what the records mean in context and the system hasn’t been fully trained for that context. As I said earlier, we’ve only just scratched the surface of these records; as we begin to understand them better, we’ll be able to train the system properly with the new data.”
“I see. Well, thank you for your time, miss Shimada,” the interviewer concluded, then looked behind himself and nodded. The cameraman stopped and stepped aside, pulling his headset off and taking a break.
Kiho breathed a sigh of relief and stood, stretching her arms and starting to walk away.
“Miss Shimada,” the interviewer loudly said, stopping Kiho. “Do you think this would be possible without the artificial intelligence project at the university?”
Kiho turned around and nodded. “It would take more time and more funding, but we would do it without the system. I started on it a couple years ago, long before the computing department spun up their project.”
“Why do you have no faith?” the interviewer bluntly asked.
Kiho opened her mouth, then gently closed it. She turned and shook her head. “I believe I’ve answered enough of your questions. Good day.” She then walked away, leaving the interviewer behind.
–
Kiho put her hands around the cup of tea, feeling the warmth radiating out across her fingers. Still too hot to touch. I will have to wait a while longer. She let out a depressed sigh, glancing up to see the TV. A news channel was on, flashing the latest from her interview session. They had to go and twist my words. I never should’ve agreed to that circus. She looked back to her tea and blew into it, hoping it would cool down faster. What was supposed to be about our success in translating several ancient tongues to a modern language got turned into a debate over faith and the future of computing technology. Several of the higher-ups have come down screaming at me, saying the university is now going to lose donors because of the whole mess.
“Stupid Kiho,” Kiho muttered, shaking her head. “You should’ve declined the whole thing. Just said ‘no comment.’ They gave you the rope and you happily hung yourself.”
“Bad day, miss?” a masculine voice asked, cuing Kiho to look up and see a man smiling at her.
“A bad week,” Kiho answered. “Please leave me alone.”
“Someone like you shouldn’t be alone now,” the man remarked, pulling out the chair across from Kiho and sitting down. He set a cup down on the small table and made himself comfortable. Kiho raised an eyebrow as she looked over the man, making out the details of his appearance. He appeared as if he was about her age, with somewhat fair skin and dark hair. The most prominent feature seemed to be his eyes, apparently tinged red.
“What’s wrong with your eyes?” Kiho asked, lifting her chin slightly.
“Oh, an old hereditary thing,” the man answered with a chuckle. He lightly bowed his head. “I’m Genta. Miss Shimada, is it?”
“If this is another surprise fishing session from the media, I don’t have any comments,” Kiho muttered, glancing aside. “Please just leave me alone.”
“Oh, quite far from it,” Genta remarked as he waved a hand dismissively. “I’m actually more interested in the records you’ve found and translated.”
“You mean you want to know more about the computer that is going to ‘take everyone’s jobs away,’ ” Kiho grumbled.
Genta shook his head. “No, I’m serious — I want to know more about the records. A lot of those priests are pretty protective of those records; I’ve never been able to sneak a peek at them.”
Kiho sighed and looked back to Genta. “You won’t take ‘no’ for an answer, will you?”
“Well, I will if you really want me to leave,” Genta said as he looked down. He then lightly smiled and grasped his cup. “But what if I said I could help with your translations?”
Kiho frowned and narrowed an eye. “I’d say it’s impossible unless you’ve spent several years studying several ancient languages.”
“Much longer than that,” Genta replied, bringing his gaze back up. “Want me to prove it to you?”
“Yeah, let’s see what dumb trick you’re going to pull,” Kiho impatiently mumbled.
Genta shifted his smile into a grin and pulled out a small notepad along with a pen, then began to carefully make marks on the paper. He meticulously crafted the marks, then did a brief nod and shifted the pad over. Kiho lazily looked at the marks then felt a sudden rush of interest. Wait. This looks like… Like what we called Language E!
“Where did you learn this?” Kiho asked, her eyes widening as she looked up to Genta.
“Can you read it?” Genta sweetly asked.
Kiho blinked and looked over the writing as she carefully translated it. “Your… Eyes are… Beauty… Personified.” What the hell?! She glanced up and narrowed her eyes. “Flattery will get you nowhere,” she whispered.
“Can you write like that?” Genta asked, opening a hand to the pad.
“No,” Kiho grumbled, reaching out for her cup of tea. “Who taught you?”
“Oh, that would’ve been my grandmother,” Genta answered. “She’s a bit traditional, even in the face of our modern age.”
Kiho glanced up and twisted her head. “She’s still alive? That must make her quite old.”
Genta nodded. “Yes, she’s quite old, but still sharp as a tack. Even gave Mr. H- er, a priest a hard time recently, especially about his donation box.”
Kiho leaned back and let out an annoyed sigh. “Mr. Hara. You don’t need to beat around the bush, especially if he sent you.”
“Mr. Hara looks out for himself,” Genta said, snorting and rubbing his chin. “She just felt the need to correct him and his lost faith.”
“How do you know him? I’ve told him many times: we can’t pay him for the records.”
Genta sighed and dropped his smile, then looked out the window of the tea parlor. “Not too well. I’ve really only seen him from afar. My mother and grandmother are the ones more familiar with him.”
Kiho frowned, then opened a hand to Genta. “Wait, wait, wait — he let us use the records after saying the gods convinced him. Did your family do something to him?”
“They just reminded him of his responsibilities, that’s all,” Genta dismissively answered, looking back to Kiho. “Though it seems that they need to visit with him again, judging by what I saw on the news.”
Kiho groaned and rolled her face into a palm. “Let me take another guess: you’re from his village.”
Genta smiled and nodded, reaching out to his cup and taking a drink. “Yes, it’s a quiet place. It’s good for us; keeps rumors to a minimum.”
Kiho lifted her head up and displayed a puzzled look. “You’re rich? Community leaders?”
“Eh, something like that,” Genta whispered, glancing aside. “A family out of place and out of time, so to speak.”
“What do you mean?”
Genta waved a hand at the pad. “You called this ‘Language E,’ right?”
“Yes, I-” Kiho gasped and blinked at Genta, looking at him with disbelief. “How’d you know we called it ‘Language E’?”
Genta smiled and rested an elbow on the table, using his hand to prop his chin up. “Do you think you’re ready to know, miss Shimada?”
Kiho hesitated for a moment, looking down at the pad. This exchange feels strange. Yet I feel… Warmth coming from him.
“Don’t be afraid to take a step into a larger world,” Genta calmly whispered.
Kiho pursed her lips and slowly nodded. “Yes. I think I’m ready to know.”
Genta looked outside and took a breath. “Your ‘Language E’ was the native written tongue of my grandmother’s village. For the longest time, it was the only way to write there, but as things developed it was slowly replaced by different systems until no one remembered it — except for her and my mother.”
“That’s not possible,” Kiho said while shaking her head. “The language hasn’t been used for thousands of years.”
Genta snorted and nodded. “That’s true. It’s been a long time. People have forgotten and it’s just as well. It was necessary to ensure that we all followed the right path.”
Kiho tapped the pad. “Write something else for me. Prove you haven’t just made something up.”
Genta turned back and pulled a page off the pad, then once again made a series of meticulous marks on the fresh page, allowing Kiho to see him write. He twisted the pad again and allowed her to read it.
Kiho looked down at the pad and began translating the message. “Ka… Kaerugo and… Hagasami… May their… Love? Be… Eternal.” She frowned and looked back up to Genta. “The story of Hagasami and Kaerugo?”
Genta nodded. “I know the story well. My grandmother tells it often. She often laughs and says how inaccurate it has grown over time. Then she tells how it really went — from her perspective.”
“From her perspective?” Kiho glanced at the pad and back to Genta. “She has a different variation of the tale?”
“Not exactly,” Genta answered with a wince. “Uh, it’s hard to come out and say it. Promise you won’t panic and call the police?”
“Mr. Genta,” Kiho muttered, “if I were going to call the police, I’d have done it by now. Either you’re crazy or I’m crazy; at this point, I’m not really sure I care. I’m going to lose my job at the university either way, so I might as well entertain this delusion before I’m forced to work at a maid cafe.”
Genta snorted and let out a laugh, then nodded. “Alright, but I think we can save your job at the university. Anyways, she was there.”
Kiho blinked and displayed a dumbfounded expression. “She was what? At the university?”
“No, she is- er, was at the village where Hagasami ruled.”
Kiho chuckled and shook her head. “That’s not possible; no one knows where any of these villages were. The records aren’t specific enough and most just detail various stories.”
Genta leaned forward and lightly smiled. “Would you like her to show you where it was?”
Kiho sighed and shook her head, glancing outside. It’s turning into a nice spring. Maybe I should entertain this, just to get away for a bit.
“I’ll pay for the train ride,” Genta sweetly added. “It’s not too long on the high speed. Where she lives now isn’t too far from the old- er, village.”
“Isn’t it cruel to have your poor old grandmother wandering around outside like that?” Kiho asked with a grin.
“On the contrary, she likes to return and remember all the good times,” Genta proudly answered. “Before Gensur- uhm, the people left and abandoned it.”
Kiho snapped her gaze back to Genta and narrowed her eyes. “‘Gensur’? That sounds familiar.” She frowned as she tried to place the name. Gensur… Gensurashi?! She gasped. “Did you pull that from the interview?!”
Genta shook his head and held his hands up. “No, no, I…” He sighed and closed his eyes. “Oh, I don’t know! I don’t know how to talk about this!” He stood up and grabbed his cup. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to waste your time.”
Kiho opened her mouth, then stood up and placed a hand on Genta’s wrist. “No, please don’t go. Tell me.”
Genta took a deep breath, then let it out. He nodded and carefully sat back down, setting his cup on the table. Kiho gently returned to her seat and leaned forward, listening closely.
“Gensurashi was my great grandmother,” Genta mumbled, staring into his cup.
Kiho blinked in disbelief, trying to make sense of Genta’s admission. I would say he’s crazy, but he’s not. There’s something different about him, something that is warm and… Truthful.
“Are you going to laugh at me now?” Genta whispered.
Kiho hesitated for a moment, then lightly smiled and reached out, grasping Genta by his wrist. “No. Tell me more.”
Genta glanced up to Kiho, then looked back down to the cup. “I’ve never been very good at this. It’s hard for me to tap into the ability. My mother does it naturally, but I have to try really hard. Reading human emotions is just so taxing.”
Kiho nodded in understanding. “People are complex. They-“
“-each have their own individual mannerisms and behaviors,” Genta interjected, finishing Kiho’s words for her.
Kiho blinked for a moment. Wait, what? No, I wasn’t quoting someone. I-
“Was thinking on my own,” Genta whispered, slowly glancing up. “Do you understand now, Kiho?”
“You can read minds?” Kiho breathlessly asked, lowering her head.
Genta nodded. “To a degree. It takes a lot of focus, but I can do it. My grandmother can only do so at the surface level, but my mother is more capable.”
“So when I-“
“When you referred to it as ‘Language E,’ I felt that,” Genta concluded. “I got a bit more focused when I was writing there and it triggered my ability. Most of the time, it doesn’t come that easy.”
Kiho pursed her lips, then decided to move the conversation on. “You said Gensurashi was your great grandmother. Do you mean spiritually? Like connected?”
“As in ‘law.’ She took my grandmother under her wing.”
Kiho frowned. “Like the records indicating that she took… Wait, no, that’s not possible,” she muttered, shaking her head. “Are you saying your grandmother was Hagasami?”
“Is. She’s still alive,” Genta whispered. He sighed and looked into Kiho’s eyes. “It’s not an elaborate prank, Kiho. The records are real and they’re all ancient. It’s just the passage of time, that’s all. My grandmother once said my grandfather told her that time and space are effectively the same thing. I’m not sure if she understood or not, but that’s what she told me.”
Kiho lightly rolled her head back. “Kaerugo. The record keeper.”
“He wasn’t always known as that,” Genta remarked. “He was also known as ‘Five’ before he was reborn.”
Kiho sighed and pulled her hand back. Logically, I should be running far away from him. But… I want to stay close to him. To find out more.
“It’s hard for me to make sense of it at times, too,” Genta whispered, taking a drink from his cup. “I’m not that far removed, but it’s still far enough that I have difficulty with it.”
“Hagasami is a goddess, according to the records,” Kiho said, looking outside. “Are you saying that you’re a god?”
Genta shook his head. “No. Only related to them. My ability is linked to them and that’s it. Only my mother and grandmother retained their powers.”
Kiho looked back to Genta. “Who was- uh, is your mother?”
Genta shook his head again and glanced up to Kiho. “I’d rather you met them before I told you more. Her name has been lost to history for a reason and she’d rather not have it spoken casually.”
“Why? What’s so terrible about it?”
“It’s not a terrible name, it’s just that… Well, her power is something the world was never ready for.” Genta sighed and opened a hand. “You’ve come across records of a ‘Chiya,’ right?”
Kiho nodded. “Yes, but so far just in reference to a hand language.”
Genta sat up straight and made several motions with his hands and arms, then ended with an open hand to Kiho.
“Uh, what?” Kiho asked in befuddlement.
“Chiya was my other great grandmother,” Genta explained, resting his hands. “She adopted Kaerugo.”
“This is all actually true, isn’t it?” Kiho whispered, looking down at her cup of tea. It all defies logic, but it’s true. I can feel it is true.
“Yes, our story — and history — is true,” Genta answered with a nod. “But there’s so much that has happened, so much that we’ve seen, that it gets hard to explain after all this time. Everything we’ve done, everyone we’ve influenced, all to alter a fate that my grandfather warned us of.”
Kiho lightly twisted her head. “What fate?”
Genta let out a tired sigh. “Only my grandmother can explain that. She’s the only one who saw what it could be. My mother only saw what once was.”
Kiho pursed her lips, then nodded. “Would you mind if I told a friend where I’m going?”
“Tell several,” Genta replied, looking aside. “Make sure they know to contact someone if you don’t call back. You can give them my name and number, too.”
“You’re trusting me? Just like that?” Kiho asked with a lifted eyebrow.
“I, uh… Have faith,” Genta mumbled. “I’ve told you more than I should have already, but I feel that it’s the right thing to do.”
Kiho gently smiled, then stood up. “Well, Mr. Genta, if this only takes a few hours, then let’s get going. I need to get a few things, then I can meet you at the train station.”
Genta looked up and mirrored Kiho’s smile. “I’ll be waiting. And I’ll have that ticket for you, too.”
“One condition,” Kiho said, holding a finger up.
“Uh, what would that be?” Genta asked as he stood.
“I want to know why you came to me.”
Genta looked to the TV and motioned toward it. “After watching your interview, I could tell you were hurt. I felt that I should help you, to keep you from giving up.”
“Why? What’s so important with what I’m doing?” Kiho asked as she folded her arms.
“Because you’re piecing together the story in your own way,” Genta warmly answered. “Exactly what my grandmother wanted you to do.”
Kiho pursed her lips and shrugged. “I’m not sure I understand, but if she can explain it better, then that will do.”
“‘Humanity must grow beyond gods.’ That’s what she told me. ‘They must find their own way, to control their own destiny, so as to avoid the fate of your grandfather’s masters.’ “
Kiho held a finger up and was about to speak, then shook her head. “See you in about 30 minutes, Mr. Genta,” she finally whispered.
–
Kiho walked off the train with Genta, taking in the sight of the meek train station. The surrounding village seemed small and quaint to her eyes, with little modern development. It’s almost like stepping into the past. Then again, that’s what it’s been like for most rural villages in recent years. She looked back to Genta, who was already making his way through the station.
“It’s too bad you hadn’t come here before,” Genta remarked, opening a hand to the village. “It might’ve been possible to avoid the issues with Mr. Hara had you done so.”
“My work at the university was too time-consuming for such trips, Mr. Genta,” Kiho replied. “We also didn’t want to risk damage to the records while under our care. Not everyone is experienced in transport and handling of ancient texts.”
Genta nodded his understanding. “They weren’t exactly made to last forever. The fact that they’ve held together for this long is incredible.”
Kiho lifted an eyebrow. “I thought this would be around the time that you’d say you were there when they were written.”
Genta snorted and shook his head. “Not for most of these records. I don’t think anything I wrote would’ve survived. My grandfather’s on the other hand, I’m certain there’s more than a few.”
“Well, when will I meet your mother and grandmother?” Kiho asked, folding her arms. “I don’t see any retirement homes around here. Is there one further out in the country?”
Genta laughed, then displayed a grin to Kiho. “She doesn’t need a retirement home, miss Shimada. You’ll be surprised when you see her.” He let out a breath as he looked to a particular place in the village. “Are you hungry?”
Kiho pursed her lips, then nodded in answer. “I could use something to eat, yeah.”
“There’s a small cafe that we like to go to on occasion; I’ll ask them to meet us there.” Genta pulled out a phone and typed into it, then waited a moment and nodded. “They’ll both be there. I’d almost lost track of how significant this day is.”
“What’s significant about it?” Kiho inquired.
Genta smiled at Kiho. “I’ll let my grandmother explain. C’mon, it’s only a short walk on foot.” He led her away from the platform and down to the relatively narrow street, passing the humble buildings along the way. Small amenities like convenience stores and grocery stores were visible, but the majority were still homes.
It’s quiet and isolated here, Kiho thought. Yet also warm and comforting. It’s a shame so much of this is being lost to time, but I suppose that’s the price of advancement. As she followed Genta, he finally stopped at a small storefront and opened the door, holding it for her with a smile. She sheepishly returned his smile and walked in, being greeted with the sight of a rustic cafe and an old but solid bar against the wall. An older man behind the bar smiled and waved, then Genta walked past Kiho and pointed to a table.
“Right over there,” Genta said, moving forward and appropriating a seat. “They won’t be long. It’s not too far from the shrine.”
Kiho sat down across from Genta and glanced over her shoulder. “Mr. Hara’s shrine?”
Genta shook his head. “It’s not really his. It belongs to the village at large; he’s just the current priest. He really ought to be replaced, but that’s difficult in this day and age.”
“Yeah, not exactly a career choice for younger people,” Kiho whispered, looking back to the table.
The older man came from around the bar and up to the table, a towel draped over his left shoulder. He smiled at Genta and then Kiho. “Back from the big city so soon, Genta?” he asked.
“It didn’t take long to find out that Mr. Hara caused some issues, Emon,” Genta answered with a grin.
“Ah, that damned fool,” Emon muttered. “Doin’ the village a disservice, that’s for sure.”
“My sisters and I will probably correct him later,” Genta remarked with a dismissive wave of his hand.
“Aye, that should do it.” Emon pulled out a small pad and pencil. “What can I get ya started with?”
“Tea for me,” Genta requested. He then opened a hand to Kiho. “And you, miss Shimada?”
“Tea is fine,” Kiho said with a sheepish smile.
“Your sisters comin’?” Emon asked.
Genta nodded. “They shouldn’t be more than a few minutes behind us.”
“Alright, I’ll get their usual,” Emon mumbled, then walked away.
Kiho waited until Emon was out of earshot, then leaned forward. “‘Sisters’?”
“I have an older sister and a younger sister,” Genta whispered in answer. “But in this case, my mother and grandmother pass themselves off as my older sisters. My grandmother goes by ‘Hanako’ and my mother by ‘Chigusa,’ both of which are close enough to their true names.”
“Hagasami and… Your mother’s name?” Kiho carefully asked.
“I’ll let her decide if you should know it,” Genta replied as he leaned back. He cleared his throat and lightly smiled. “I’m sorry that I must be obtuse in these matters, but that’s the reality of my life. It’s been a long time.”
Kiho let out an impatient sigh. “How old are you, Mr. Genta?”
“It’s just ‘Genta,’ ” he clarified. He glanced over to make sure Emon was still out of earshot, then looked at the table. “I was born over five thousand years ago, miss Shimada.”
“I see,” Kiho muttered, shaking her head. “And your mother?”
Genta shrugged. “About the same, plus twenty or thirty years.”
“Uh-huh. And your grandmother?”
“Let me think a moment,” Genta mumbled, glancing upward. “Not exact, but around five hundred years older than me.”
“And you’re all immortal?” Kiho asked, her tone increasingly skeptical.
Genta shook his head. “No, far from it. We don’t know how long we’ll live. We’re not invulnerable or anything like that; just extremely long lived.”
“So, how long then?” Kiho inquired, opening a hand. “Ten thousand? Twenty thousand? One hundred? The heat death of the universe?”
“Miss Shimada,” Genta answered with a tired sigh, “I can’t answer that question. We have remained in the shadows ever since humanity started losing faith in earthly gods, partially because that was my grandmother’s desire and partially because we didn’t want to interfere any more than we already had.”
“There’s always a rational explanation for things, Genta,” Kiho remarked, waving a hand. “You’ve displayed some incredible abilities, ones which I can understand, but others — like lifespans in the thousands of years — are very difficult to believe.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t give a rational explanation for what I am, nor what my family is,” Genta replied with the brief shake of his head. “We originated in a mystical era, a time where knowledge and science were limited, gods and goddesses roamed the earth, and the best weapon you could get was a bronze sword. My grandfather’s presence shattered that, removing a piece of the veil and spreading potentially dangerous knowledge.”
Kiho frowned. “Your grandfather?”
Genta lightly smiled at Emon as he brought some tea to the table, setting down four cups. He left a kettle behind and briefly bowed his head, then wandered back to the bar. Genta sighed and reached out to one of the cups and took a sip of the warm tea within.
“Well? Your grandfather? What was so special about him?” Kiho pressed again.
Genta pursed his lips and let out a breath. “He, uh… It’s hard to describe. I never knew him.” He closed his eyes and slowed his breathing. “My grandfather was a warning, a caution from another time and place. Something to redirect us in order to avoid a terrible fate.”
Kiho opened her hands, expecting more from Genta. “A terrible fate? For what? War? Disease?”
“How familiar are you with your artificial intelligence system at the university, miss Shimada?” Genta pointedly asked, opening his eyes.
“Not very,” Kiho answered with a shake of her head. “We only used it for the pattern matching system in our project. You’re not going to suddenly tell me this is all about that now, are you?”
“Yes and no,” Genta replied. “There’s a link between my family and that system, but it’s very distant. Mostly just in the idea and concept.” He leaned forward and rubbed his chin. “I think that one day, we’ll have attained true artificial intelligence. It’s inevitable, something that we can’t stop, no matter how hard we might want to. But we might be able to change where it goes. To elevate us all versus leaving us in ruin.”
“‘Machines gain sentience, decide humanity deserves to die, kills us all,’ ” Kiho dryly concluded, rubbing her face. “Yes, I’ve heard and seen many of those stories before. ‘The Exterminators’ is a very popular film franchise, Genta.”
Genta snorted and passed a disappointed look to Kiho. “Let me ask a different question: do you think humans are the only intelligent species in the universe?”
Kiho promptly shook her head. “No. Given the vastness of the universe, there have to be others out there.”
“And why do you suppose we haven’t been contacted by any of them yet?”
Kiho shrugged and reached out for a cup of tea, firmly grasping the cup and taking a sip. “Well, we haven’t been able to travel any further than the moon. If everyone else is in the same state as us, then crossing those vast distances just isn’t possible yet.”
“And some theorize they made an artificial intelligence that destroyed them before they got that far,” Genta whispered while narrowing his eyes.
Kiho paused for a moment and frowned, then nodded. “Yes, I’ve heard that theory before.”
Genta opened a hand toward Kiho. “What do you think we would do if we found a message from such an intelligent species that warned us from developing such technology?”
“I don’t know,” Kiho muttered. “I find such a message to be quite implausible to begin with. Given that, I doubt we’d heed it. For those at the forefront of that technology, the excuse would be along the lines of ‘we’ll do it right’ and press on.”
“Exactly,” Genta whispered, bobbing a finger. “Our hubris might very well be our undoing. We play a very dangerous game with these technologies, yet they are but one advancement to enlightenment.”
Kiho blinked, then raised an eyebrow. “How do you figure that?”
“I believe that once we advance these technologies enough — artificial intelligence, computing — we’ll grow beyond what we are now.” Genta held a finger up to illustrate a caveat. “But we must do so carefully, because this all represents a power that can easily be misused. It remains to be seen if humanity can wield it properly. As Mr. Hara illustrates, there is apparently some ground yet to cover before we’re ready to advance.”
“You believe that artificial intelligence can advance us?” Kiho asked, then scoffed. “That’s the other end of the spectrum. Maybe it will just be what it is and there will be nothing more to it.”
“Anything based upon intelligence will inevitably advance, miss Shimada,” Genta replied with a grin. “These are traits that we see become very successful in nature. Corvids, octopi, and of course humans — all are predisposed to intelligence. Yet it can also be quite dangerous, as you very well know.”
“But you can’t say the people of today are smarter than those from a thousand years ago,” Kiho remarked. “We have more knowledge, but our gross intelligence hasn’t grown.”
Genta lightly smiled. “Not yet. Ah, but with the addition of computers — especially those tied to our own bodies — we might potentially see an exponential advance.”
Kiho narrowed an eye at Genta. “I’d say such things are quite far off.”
“Within the scope of humanity, not that far,” Genta replied as he brought his hands open. “If you had come to me when I was a young man and told me this would be our future, I’d have believed you to be mad.” He snorted and shifted his smile into a grin. “Well, were I not aware of my grandfather, that is.”
“And you’re going to tell me about him now, right?” Kiho impatiently asked.
Genta was about to speak when the cafe door opened, cuing Kiho to turn and see two women walk in. One had dark hair and fair skin, while her eyes were a deep red. The other one had slightly lighter hair, with similar red eyes and skin. They have features comparable to Genta. His family? Kiho felt her mind stumble a bit from her observations. The two women smiled and waved, then walked over to the table and sat down.
“Hanako. Chigusa,” Genta greeted the two women, then lightly bowed his head. “Thanks for coming.”
The darker-haired woman looked past Genta, apparently checking to see if Emon was in earshot. “Use our true names, Genta. It is all right.”
Genta sighed and glanced back to Kiho. “Miss Shimada, this is my grandmother: Hagasami.” He indicated to the darker-haired woman, then opened a hand toward the other. “And my mother: Chigurashi.”
Kiho briefly glanced over to Genta, then looked back to the two women. Yes, they’re clearly related. But they’re no older than I am. More like they’re siblings.
“Oh, I assure you,” Chigurashi sweetly remarked, “I am Genta’s mother. I can vividly describe his father, his birth, his-“
“Let’s not go that far, mother,” Genta embarrassingly interrupted.
Kiho folded her arms in disbelief. “And you’re goddesses?”
Hagasami nodded and leaned back to answer. “Yes. In the so-called ‘Age of Warring Gods,’ they called me the ‘Iron Goddess.’ It wasn’t because I was cruel or harsh, but because of my ability.”
“Working iron,” Kiho muttered. “Yes, I’ve read the legends.”
“Not quite,” Hagasami whispered, leaning forward and opening a palm. She glanced around to make sure no one else was looking, then a small light began to shine from her palm and in an instant, an iron frog appeared.
Kiho’s eyes widened and she looked at Hagasami’s palm in disbelief. No. No, no, no. That’s not possible. That’s an illusion. A magic trick.
“I like frogs very much,” Hagasami remarked, smiling at the iron likeness of a frog sitting in her palm. “They’ve brought me much comfort over the years.”
“A magic trick,” Kiho breathlessly mumbled. “T-th-that’s all. You just pulled it out from somewhere.”
Hagasmi glanced up and caused the iron frog to form into a puddle, then shift into a likeness of Kiho’s face. “Really? I suppose it could be considered a magic trick, seeing as how I’ve been unable to find a proper explanation for this ability in all these years.”
Footsteps from the kitchen cued Hagasami to glance over and quickly absorb the iron back into her palm, then she pulled her hand back and gently held her chin up as Emon walked up to the table. He set down a tray of food and bowed his head at the group.
“Nothin’ less n’ the special of the day for you, Hanako,” Emon said with a hearty laugh.
“Thank you, Emon,” Hagasami replied, bringing her hands together. “You know me well.”
“But what if I asked for something different?” Chigurashi smartly asked, a humorous grin stretching her mouth.
“What the Katou girls want is what they get,” Emon replied, turning to leave. “I’ll leave ya to it. Enjoy!” He walked back into the kitchen, a smile on his face.
Kiho glanced between Genta, Hagasami, and Chigurashi. “Alternative names for all of you?”
Chigurashi nodded. “Yes, we’ve adopted many different names over the years. It’s difficult to hide who we are, so now and again we go into hiding. Usually at the old family home.”
“And I’m supposed to believe this whole charade?” Kiho incredulously asked, narrowing her eyes. “That you’re all a family of gods who have lived for thousands of years?”
“Yes, we would like you to believe that,” Hagasami answered with a gentle smile. “Then at least we can answer some of your questions — and put you on the right path.”
Kiho glanced back and forth between Hagasami and Chigurashi. “Put me on the right path?”
Chigurashi smiled and leaned forward, opening her palm. Like Hagasami’s earlier trick, a light shone and a metallic material formed, then took the shape of some kind of twisted bipedal creature. She dropped her smile and let out a deep sigh.
Kiho blinked and shook her head. “You can do that, too?”
“I can form steel,” Chigurashi whispered. “This form is something I can remember from when I was a young child. It was a monster that gave me nightmares, always chasing me down.”
“What is it? Some kind of alien?” Kiho asked, twisting her head to get a better look at the object.
“This,” Chigurashi answered, “was a form of my father. ‘Steel beyond bone,’ was the phrase it always spoke of.”
Kiho scratched her head, then slowly shook it. “I don’t understand. That alien was your father?”
“It’s not an alien,” Chigurashi replied, narrowing her eyes at Kiho. “What you see here was a machine. A machine built for destruction.” She caused the figure to shift into a pool of metal, then reshaped it into a handsome human face. “This was my father’s face. He was both, miss Shimada.”
“A machine and a human?”
“A machine and then a human,” Chigurashi clarified, cuing the face into a puddle again, then absorbing the metal. “It is a long and complex story, one that will take some time to convey. I will only do so if you truly choose to believe.”
“Believe what? That you all have special abilities?” Kiho asked, looking at the trio. “There’s always a rational explanation for these sort of things.”
“To believe that you can alter fate, Kiho Shimada,” Hagasami sternly whispered. “My husband sacrificed himself to give humanity a chance. A chance to avoid the terrible fate that befell his masters. A chance to evolve. To grow. To love.”
Kiho sighed and pursed her lips, looking down at the table. I still don’t understand. OK, I believe I can alter fate — but what fate?
Chigurashi smiled and sat back in her chair. “It will become clear once you review the shrine’s records.”
Kiho glanced up to Chigurashi. “Here? This shrine’s records?” She scoffed. “Mr. Hara will fight me every step of the way. He said we’ll defile them if we translate them.”
“When he sees us with you,” Hagasami sweetly remarked, “he will have a change of heart. I guarantee it.”
“What’s so important about the records here?” Kiho asked Hagasami with an open hand.
Hagasmi glanced down, holding a light smile. “They contain the account of Chiya, Kaerugo’s adoptive mother.”
Kiho frowned, then looked over to Genta, who only silently nodded. She looked back to Hagasami, expecting more.
“Chiya kept Kaerugo’s core,” Hagasami whispered. She then looked back up to Kiho. “She recorded her findings in the archive known as ‘Kaerugo: The Five Beyond Steel.’ It is an account of the visions she saw after studying it.”
“And what makes that special compared to everything else?” Kiho inquired, leaning forward slightly.
“To understand that,” Hagasami explained, “you must know his story. You must know the story of Genocide Five.”
–