Overture

[Treize Khushrenada]

"What I am saying," spoke the Minister of Health, Labor and Welfare in low, agitated tones, "is that there is a right way and a wrong way of doing things, in all cases."

"Be that as it may," retorted the Minister of Finance, "but everything must be accounted for. Nothing can be wasted, and the means we select to attain our ends are sometimes more in accordance with municipal and national budgets than a strict moral code."

"I understand that perfectly," the argument continued, "but if your actions are going to affect the economy, and through that public consumption, it falls under my jurisdiction as well, not to mention the Minister of Economy."

Ayumu Wataya sat perfectly still in his seat at the Cabinet conference table, arms gently laid across those of the chair, a small, equally gentle smile playing across his lips. The Cabinet meetings were always exceedingly dull, centered around issues that concerned neither him nor his employer, but always he sat when instructed to attend, passively taking it all in and answering whatever queries and concerns came his way.

"Gentlemen," the Prime Minister raised his hands for silence from the head of the table, his expression exhausted. "The Minister of Finance will see to it that his department goes over the necessary procedures once again and makes sure there is no other way to make their plan a reality than to release potentially diseased goods into the market." The man in question bowed his head in submission, grumbling a few honorific words of accordance.

"Our next matter deals with the Department of Defense," he continued. "Is the Minister of Defense not present?"

"Excuse me, Prime Minister," Ayumu spoke up, roused from his reveries by the mention of his department. "The Minister of Defense is away on urgent business. I am his representative."

"Alright," the Prime Minister nodded. "For those of you who do not know, this is Ayumu Wataya, Private Secretary to the Minister of Defense. At this point we would like to address your agency's assignment called Project Apple." Immediately the volume in the room dropped. All extraneous whispering ceased, and all eyes were directed toward the calm, collected form of Ayumu.

His polite smile still in place, he turned his own, warm gaze first around the room, then back to the Prime Minister. Those handsome features betrayed nothing, eyes partly disguised from the glare on his glasses of the fading sun through one of the western windows. "What exactly would you like to hear, Mr. Prime Minister?" he said softly, his voice as welcoming as his gaze.

"Progress, Mr. Wataya," was the official's short reply.

"The subjects have been exposed, of course," Ayumu said as he feigned a look through the sheets in the folder before him. It wasn't necessary to check, of course. He knew this project all by heart. "But despite isolated incidents, there has been no widespread problem brought on by the treatment, nor any recognition of the subjects themselves that the treatment causes... abnormalities. As far as we can tell... objectively, of course."

"Good to hear," the Prime Minister sat back in his chair. "And we have been assured that the project is sanctified by the necessary authorities? A test of scientific ability and nothing more?"

"Naturally, Mr. Prime Minister," Ayumu nodded, smile unchanged.

"Alright," the old man assented, his eyes lingering suspiciously on the secretary for a few moments further. "Moving on..."

Ayumu Wataya allowed the following drivel of the Cabinet meeting to roll over him. He had been addressed once, and once was most certainly enough to broach a topic like Project Apple in a room with any windows. Fingers playing idly over the arm of his chair, he contemplated the treatment, and the effects it was no doubt already producing in its subjects. Of course it was already far more advanced than the report he had just given the Cabinet, but for the Minister of Defense's affairs to proceed as planned, for all of the cues to line up and connect, this would need to be the case.

It was certainly going to be one interesting semester.

[Treize Khushrenada]

As the conductor tapped his baton on the brass music stand before him, Ayumu sat back in his chair, closing his eyes for a moment. The theater was dark, a single spotlight illuminating the stage, so the act of closing his eyes was like entering another, silent world. He longed for this world with all of his being; a place of repose, of utter darkness, absent of the chaos that all too often acted on the real world he knew all too well. For those moments he could spare in this world apart, everything was resolved and his screaming, cursing mind was quieted.

The conductor tapped again. Ayumu opened his eyes, hands folded neatly in his lap. From the box where he sat he could see directly down onto the stage, those lens-shielded dark-amber eyes lingering on the maestro for a moment before the lights began to rise on the orchestra. Slowly the violinists began tuning their instruments. Every few moments a flute broke through their monotony. Another tap from the conductor and they all fell silent.

Raising the baton, he slowly dipped and swayed it to the side. The lively, dignified overture of Rossini's The Thieving Magpie began. Allowing the music to wash over him, he closed his eyes once more. He was again in his vaulted retreat, only the measured sounds of the composition slipping under his black gates. The fire in his heart was quelled for a time.

"Ayumu," the voice sounded from his left. His eyes snapped open, a natural smile fixed in a manner of youthful candour.

"Yes, Minister?" he spoke softly, warmly, as his eyes took in the middle-aged, balding man who sat at his side. The Minister of Defense was not paying any attention to the orchestra or to the music, it seemed, his small, black eyes focused unwaveringly on the Blackberry held in the palm of his hand, the fingers of his other navigating through menus, entering command after command.

"Has there been any news on the subjects?" he asked, the flighty music serving as almost a farce against his gruff voice.

"No news, sir," Ayumu shook his head, feigning disappointment. "As far as we know the treatment has been issued without conflict and each sample is proceeding as expected. Are you expecting new data?"

"Not especially," the Minister mumbled, his eyes never leaving the tiny screen before him. "You mentioned that the Prime Minister seemed... uneasy?"

"Yes, but it's been dealt with," he returned, his smile in place once again. "A sizable... donation has made its way into his account, with a subtle but assumable trail to this department. He will not trouble you." The piece picked up, each note like the beat of a small bird's wing. "I must ask, sir," Ayumu continued, eyes returned to the stage. "While everything is going according to the predetermined design, I wonder why you have not yet authorized the change in... curriculum."

It took a few moments for the Minister to answer; perhaps it took him that time to realize he had been addressed again. He was quite consumed with his own cyberized affairs. Why the man wasted department money on extraordinarily costly box seating for every concert Ayumu could not fathom, but he could hardly damn the very practice that allowed him to accompany his employer to such an enriching experience.

"Because," he said finally, "our liason has not yet contacted us with verification of readiness. Until that point we watch and wait. Thus are the beaureucratic affairs of the world, Ayumu." The private secretary's hand tensed slightly at the patronizing tone. If it had been his responsibility, Project Apple would be long underway at this point. No, if it had been his responsibility things would be very different so far into the game. But he said none of this, his composure coolly kept as always, and nodded.

"Naturally, sir." The music was descending into a twittering spiral, rising and diving before climbing to the greatest heights for one last plummet. The piece concluded to the polite applause of a crowd too wary of tearing their gloves to clap any harder.

"I want you to await contact from this inside connection of ours," the Minister spoke over the restrained din. "When you receive contact, I'm sure you know what to do." Ayumu nodded again. He knew exactly what to do.

In the moments he had before the next piece began, he closed his eyes and sealed himself away.