Credit Statement, Helen Klein, 3月 42年
Formal Kimono, black, embroidered /w plum blossoms ---- 1750 KS
Zōri ---- 5 KS
Sunglasses, round lens, gold wire frame, side-shield added, matte purple lens finish ---- 188 KS
....
Spring, it was a time for birth, renewal, growth. It was painted from sky to land in vivid clarity, between the shining sun and the scattered petals upon the green grass, it was exclaimed life was to prosper, to break from its frozen torpor. It was undeniable to embrace the indomitable spirit of the Yamataian way of life. Women and men bled to nourish the blossoming reach at a euphoric utopia which had no greater embodiment than Kyoto in all of its imperial splendor. It was even undeniable to those who were among those who could be counted as having sacrificed something or someone in the name of the Empire.
Among those who were counted in having given something for the prosperous splendor that the festive atmosphere enshrined was a woman who, by record, had not set foot on Yamatai in nearly a decade. Her truth was another matter entirely, but she held a memory of that last walk upon Yamataian soil. She held a memory of a home which was kept in the suburbs of the city, and the life which was lived defending the technologically derived nirvana which she strode through. It was a reality for her though, despite the fact that she herself had never even breathed Yamataian air until a scant few days prior. As far as anyone was concerned though, she was the only example of herself, it had become that way some years prior, and it left her to live without a commitment to the concept of being something of an appendage. Even so, she had entered her own winter-like torpor, and she felt the icy grip of stagnation, clinging to her like a foul miasma.
She needed a breath of fresh air.
Statement Cont.
Single Malt Melanchol Scotch Whisky, 1.5 Liters, Aged 21 Years ---- 1950 KS
'Serenity' Oral Tablet, 3 Ct ---- 48 KS
Synthetic Fiber Cloth Seat Folding Chair, Pink, White Blossom Pattern Printed ---- 45 KS
BEST KEBABS, Zoloat Kebab Meal 8 Ct ---- **CURRENCY CONVERSION** 56 KS
'Dichotomy', it was a word that immediately came to mind, looking upon the range of people gathered for the festivities of the season. Civilians laid out bare with the sun upon their naked bodies and soldiers dressed in full uniform, and all that existed between the two examples of being, all within a single glance. So drastic between the two extremes, it evoked a feeling, her own and another at once, and it was what had led her to the goods which she carried in the basket in her grasp. She had to find the right spot, not in the thick of it all, by no means was she in the mindset for such jocularity. Her memory carried her along, to where she eventually decided to unfold the chair she had brought with her.
People, even those living in bodies constructed synthetically at the subatomic level absent of all natural genes, had a tendency to keep like company, and the same could be said for Helen, the one left behind, who was left to make a full life from what was bequeathed upon herself. Clad in silken black, with splashes of rich pink blossoms upon her rich purple sash tied kimono, she stood before one of the symbols of Yamataian military history, a statue of Kessaku Irim. Butchers in mutual company. Once she had set her basket and chair down, she turned to the statue and presented a long and respectful bow to the statue of the Taisho. Allowing a moment of reflection, Helen looked upon the statue, studying the features duplicated with sub-micron precision, appreciating the display before she took a seat upon her folding chair.
She sat in the company of a marble icon, representative of what she was closer to than she was some short years prior. Humanity, it dwelt in her, but it was no longer her legacy, that was taken by the other one. That life was not her own anymore, so she had to embrace what was left. Death that nourished the bliss that surrounded her was the weight of someone else, and that knowledge was what brought her to Yamataian soil. A pilgrimage of absolution. Absolution that she would grant herself not with sacred oils or waters, but through carefully crafted alcohol and pheromone drugs. It was a millisecond of internal dialog which granted her the semblance of an ability to become intoxicated, after telling her synthetic flesh it was not to force itself upon the chemicals which she was about to ingest.
Statement Cont.
Ice ---- .50 KS
Abwehran Crystal 'Old Fashioned' Short Tumbler, 1 Ct ---- 3800 KS
Soft clinks sounded within the crystalline drinkware as ice was deposited within the vessel. It was carefully chosen in its beautiful splendor. Faceted to gleam and glisten within the sunlight, casting beaming points of spectral wonder upon her porcelain white skin. It was as magnificent as it was in its permanence, as she held it in a grip which would have jellied a human hand. A lifetime was on her mind, and it was clear in her tension, that only a crystal lattice formed upon a gravity heavy world would endure. She forced a breath, and another, she did not actually need to breathe to force her way through an autonomic emotional hiccup but she did it out of habit, it was calming, grounding even.
Wonderful rainbow pinpoints were replaced by ripples of amber cast by the sun shining through a glass full of scotch whisky. Helen drew in a breath, basking in the scent of the alcohol. She let it chill for a moment, as scotch and ice mingled, she opened the packets of Serenity. She knew her upper limits, she knew what even her on-standby body could metabolize by default.
"Kanpai."
All three capsules were soon in her mouth, and chased by a long drink of scotch. Warmth. Warmth of the sun, the spring air, the scotch, and minutes passed before a warmth of a neurochemical blanket enveloped her senses. Pinpricks of melancholy lingered beneath the surface, crisp in in clarity granted by the contrast of drugged delusion in opposition to truth and being. It was cathartic, to have the crisis of faith in self brought to full bear, quietly, played out within her mind, behind gold framed poly-carbonate. Her disarmed vascular system flushed, brilliant pink crossing her cheeks as a hot heavy breath rolled out from between glistening purple clad lips. It was not a sigh of rapture, it was an emotional ablution. Cleansing was the growing feeling of bliss, it was an intended effect that Helen desired not for indulgence, but as a symbol.
Synthetic heaven. She sat upon it, lived in it, served it. She was basking in the psychological embodiment of it. Her statuesque company had shed the blood of thousands, if not millions, for it. She herself had done her own fair share as well. As a giddy, haunting, lewd feeling welled up within Helen's digitized soul, she smiled. It was worth it, to promise such splendor to the trillions of civilians and weapons-turned-people who lived and died for the dream that had been thrust upon their tiny little slice of a universe. Looking upon the world around her through tinted lenses, watching the blossoms fall, an old Yamataian philosophical concept welled up in her mind; 'Mono no aware'. It was what the blossoms, and her chemically induced bliss truly symbolized.
It was what she was left to live for, and she was happy with that, even as the sun crossed the sky overhead, and the effects of the Serenity left her, the bottle of scotch dwindled into arid emptiness, and the containers of food she had brought were divested of their contents. With her last drink in hand, she held it up, toasting to the statue which had been such faithful company to her moment of enlightenment;
" 私の帝国の愛に。"
With those words spoken, she downed the remainder of the scotch, carefully and neatly set the crystal back in her climate-controlled picnic basket along with the trash left from her meal, then stood before the statue again, bowing, through sheer discipline of will not staggering or stumbling as she still had not allowed her body to filter all the drugs from her artificial neurology. After rising, she turned to look to the sky above, as she spoke a quiet thanks to the self that had freed her from a burden of blood and loss. That other woman, she claimed the life she deserved, now the Helen that remained was left to live her own.
Picking up her things, Helen left the symbol of a past behind, as she slipped into the present ecstasy of Kyoto, and the rapture of the Empire.
Statement Cont.
Club Admission, The Sweet Spot ---- 30 KS
Bar Service ---- 7670 KS
Pharmacy, Emrys Industries ---- 8675 KS
Lodging, Hourly ---- 2500 KS
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