The One-Room Apartment on the Sand

(1)

Soji flipped open the laptop he borrowed from Kotaro.

After setting up a secure sandbox, he plugged in the thumb drive.
It was protected by a simple password, which was nonetheless easily broken via a brute force attack.
Two seconds was all it took for the cracking tool.

Surfing through the file list, he opened up a document titled “Brief Report”.
From the name, he surmised it was probably a report documenting research findings and data meant to be submitted to the company’s higher-ups.

“What the…! Are you kidding me…”

In it was the very data that had warranted the destruction of the research institute.
It was no exaggeration to say that it was the root cause of Sanakura Kengo’s death, Sanakura Sakimi collapsing, and him getting caught in Goto’s sights.

Sakimi had been holding onto the thumb drive last night.
In all likelihood, it was what she had been tasked to deliver.
Earlier, he had been shocked when he heard that, but seeing its content left him completely speechless.

The antivirus software was completely silent; there was no sign of any malware or malicious scripts activating at all. Apparently this document’s not a dummy, but an actual classified report.

“And they just let him bring home something like that…”

He could feel his head spinning at the thought of that, but it was already too late to cry over spilt milk at the naïveté of their security protocols anyway.
Besides, he didn’t have the time to waste fretting over irrelevant things.

Switching gears, he started poring over the report.

‘Wh-at am… I…?’

After piecing together that sentence, Sanakura Sakimi—or rather, that thing which she had become since last night—lost consciousness with her expression twisted in anguish.

Her fever had since subsided.

Soji languidly gazed at her slumbering face for a moment, then snapped out of his daze and immediately got up in search of the reason for her abnormality.

Naturally, he couldn’t accept at face value the intuition that told him “that wasn’t Sakimi”.
After all, it was only based on his impression of what he had seen, and was too preposterous and far-fetched.
It was far more reasonable, and indeed the only plausible explanation, to think that her memories were in temporary disarray.

Thus, he embarked in search of clues that would support such a hypothesis.

“…A biospecimen of unknown origin.”

Soji wasn’t a specialist in the biological sciences.
He skimmed through the technical jargon, examining only the portions he could understand.
Even then, he learned a lot.

“Cor Ouadae… ‘Heart of Ghost’?”

That was a strange name, he thought, reading on.

…It possesses totipotent properties…

’

…It can mimic the cells of another organism and fuse with the flesh seamlessly…

That indeed sounds like a lucrative opportunity for commercialization.
Or rather, the report’s contents bordered on the realm of science fiction.
If it could be put into practical use, he thought, it would surely have a significant impact on human society.

Anything a person can conceptualize, mankind will surely realize someday—those were the words of a certain sci-fi author.
If this report was true, he could understand how the research staff banked on it being the driving force of the company’s growth, and how the executive director’s faction would be wary of it and send a team to destroy them.

“That must be the thing I saw.”

It brought back to mind that pinkish thing he had seen at Lab C.
Regrettably, even if it held the potential to progress humanity’s future by leaps and bounds, it was probably nothing but a pile of ashes by now.

“…The experiment on a lab rat was a success.
In the following tests, the rat displayed increased intelligence…”

The fact that they had named the rat “Algernon” made him smile wryly.
The research team had borrowed the name of the world’s most famous lab rat without any change at all. That’s awfully blatant of them.

He read on.
Algernon went on to pass the subsequent intelligence tests with flying colours.
There were researchers who simply believed that the rat’s mental acuity had risen, but the author of the report, Dr.
Sanakura himself remained sceptical.
His train of thought was as follows: It matters not how high its intelligence has become, but rather, the question is if a creature such as a rat ought to have this level of awareness.

—Can we really still call that creature a rat?

What looked like a memo was scrawled to the side, most likely to be erased before the report’s formal submission.

Ahh…Soji gazed up in despair.
The answer he seeked was right there.

In short, Sanakura Kengo’s misgivings were dead-on.

After being implanted with the mysterious cells of the Cor whatchamacallit, Algernon had stopped being the lab rat it had once been.

And the same thing was happening to Sanakura Sakimi who now had those cells, transforming her into something unlike the girl she had been.

Soji had heard of a term known as “cellular memory”.

It was said to be a phenomenon in which organs—such as the cornea, liver or heart, when transplanted, contain the thoughts and memories of the donor, which then affects the recipient.
He had also read several novels with that as a theme.

But that’s just fiction.
Experiments had shown that it simply wasn’t possible. 

Although there were multiple real accounts of such occurrences, they were all believed to be misdiagnoses by the medical community.
Atypical newfound memories after an organ transplant were found to be due to the stress of the surgery, as well as the circumstances leading up to it rather than actual memory transference.

He looked up from the laptop, and saw rays of light streaming in from the gaps in the curtains.

It was morning.

Soji entered the bedroom.
Bathed in the sunlight shining through the curtains,  “Sakimi” was sitting on the bed with her upper body raised, her face still completely expressionless.

Seeming to notice his presence, she turned to face him, her doll-like demeanour unchanged since the night before.

’

He hesitated. How do I interact with her?

“…Can you hear me?” He asked from a short distance away.

“Yes.” Her head slowly bobbed up and down.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Yes.”

He had succeeded in making contact with the unknown. What’s up with this sci-fi experience?!

“You’re not Sakimi, are you?”

She didn’t answer.

“Do you remember anything about yourself?”

The silent treatment again. Could it be that she can’t answer?

After a lull, just as he was about to hit her with the next question, she opened her lips.

“I can’t… differentiate.”

“You mean…”

It was hard to decipher what the taciturn girl meant.

He began to think.

If he took her current words as they were—did it mean she couldn’t differentiate whether her current consciousness was based on “her memories”, or from something else altogether?

“Remembering” was a word people used for their own memories. So, with Sakimi and that thing sharing one mind, maybe she can’t give a clear answer?

“I…” Word by word, that thing in the shape of Sakimi began to speak.
To ask.
“What, am, I?”

From her words alone, anyone would think she was being delusional.
Yet in this case, that doubt was utterly serious and difficult to resolve.

“…Looks like you’re able to speak much more smoothly now.”

She seemed to be in thought for a moment, not a muscle on her face moving.

’

“Here.” She lightly balled her hand into a fist and placed it against her chest.
“I borrowed, a little, from SAKIMI.”

“You can read the memory of your host?”

“Just bit, by bit.”

Soji pondered.

Normally, a person’s memories were stored in their brain.
It went without saying that humans also used their brains to think and form thoughts.
That thing in Sakimi’s body was probably also borrowing her mind to process its thoughts.
However, a borrowed brain was just that, a borrowed brain, and hence it was unable to use it at the same capacity as Sakimi.

To be exact, it presumably couldn’t access the synapses linking countless memories together.
The memories were all there in Sakimi’s head, but it had to sort through and painstakingly categorize them one by one in a time-consuming process.

One might compare it to an encyclopaedia.
All its knowledge was certainly within its pages, but you’d never learn anything unless you flipped through them yourself.

Once it fully understood something, it could probably make that knowledge its own, he conjectured.
With the passing of time, it would most likely grow to become more like Sanakura Sakimi by assimilating her memories and experiences.

“I have learned, the shape of human HEART, from Sakimi’s memories.
Is it still unformed? Incomplete? But, I, copied that.”

I see, she needs to start from all the way back there, huh.

It made sense that a nonhuman being wouldn’t be equipped with man’s mental structure.
It would normally be unthinkable to copy that, but perhaps, he thought, it might just be possible given that it had hijacked the entire body.

“What is your objective? Are you planning on taking over that body completely?”

That risk certainly existed.

If his fears were true, it would grow more familiar with Sakimi’s memories over time, eventually behaving no different from the real deal.
No one would be able to tell and it would have successfully taken over Sakimi’s life.

“I…”

Fragmented chains of words spilled from her mouth, somehow making her sound weak-willed.

“Don’t know.
I don’t, understand, myself.”

The implicit meaning behind those words was that it didn’t know its raison d’être either.

I guess that’s only natural.

That thing had only just become cognizant of its own existence. What’s the point of grilling it about its future plans?

Seriously, what is going on here…

At any rate, it didn’t seem like he was going to get any more answers then.

’

The moment Soji reached that conclusion, all the exhaustion caught up with him.
It was only to be expected, for he had been running on high gear since yesterday, got drenched in the rain, and racked his brain all night until the sun rose.
And on top of that, he hadn’t eaten anything for a while.
In any case, he wasn’t superhuman enough to sweep all that aside like nothing.

Thinking of filling his stomach with something, he got up.

They were in a safehouse intended for unforeseen long-term stays, so there was a stockpile of food reserves with long shelf lives.
The looks and taste were nothing to boast about, but they weren’t in a position to be choosy.
After some thought, he took out several sports drinks and nutritional gels from a box by the wall.

He gave it some thought.

“Here, eat this.
It won’t do to let that body weaken.” He tossed a packet over.

Soji didn’t have a clue whether her body could accept food at this time.
However, he also couldn’t let her starve just because he was afraid of the risks.
Thus, he chose something easily digestible to test the waters.

“Eat…”

“It’s for you to acquire the nutrients needed to maintain the body through oral intake.”

He ended up putting it across in a prickly manner.
Still, she didn’t appear offended at all and just stared at the pouch in her hand blankly.

“…Eat…?” The girl tilted her head slightly.

She poked the packet with her fingers.
She then squeezed, rubbed and kneaded it.
She touched the plastic tube, pinching and hitting it repeatedly.

After some time, she finally realized the cap was meant to be twisted open.
It was also possible that she had found the relevant knowledge from Sakimi’s memories at last.
Whatever the case, she managed to get it open, and the contents spilled out.

She stared at it intently for a while, then started licking it with the tip of her tongue bit by bit.

Look at her, she’s almost like a newborn animal or something— The thought crossed his mind for a second, and he immediately pulled his face taut.

He thought her gestures were adorable, like she was a hamster of some kind.

He had begun to think of her a bit more favourably.

However, he mustn’t forget.
The one before his eyes was a monster; an alien being beyond human knowledge, and a parasite which had hijacked Sanakura Sakimi’s body.
It was something he could never be too careful around with.
That he understood clearly in his mind.
And yet, just by seeing her perform an action clumsily, he had lowered his guard.

Screw this. He stood up. This situation is unbearable.

He had to do something, and soon.
With that thought in mind, Soji dragged his weary body up.

“Eat…”

Muttering something in a small voice, the girl brought the nutritional gel away from her mouth and looked up at him.
He quickly left the room as if to cut away from her gaze.