The Chimera and the Shadowfox Griefer and Other Curious People. A. R. Morlan
and subsequently read, Masafumi busied himself cleaning up the shop, putting away bottles of ink, placing the used equipment in the autoclave, scrubbing down the chair Ulger had sat in, in case any invisible blood mist should still be clinging to the vinyl surfaces, until he heard the ever-closer wail of the sirens, be they police or an ambulance, it did not particularly matter to Masafumi.
That which he had been forced to create would soon be hidden, perhaps forever. Unlike Harumi, and her growing collection of fleshy kimono, of close-fitting skin kosode. If she would allow Masafumi to augment her three-dimensional garment, once she learned of Ulger’s inevitable fate.
Peddling to his small apartment that night, Masafumi wondered which would be more suitable—an osode of finest gauze, or the more daring nano-fabric....
IV.
(Heian kosode)
“...what is a kimono...if it ceases to be a thing worn?”
Kunihiko Moriguchi, 2005
“When no one chooses to wear kimono, might they not choose to become the kimono?”
Masafumi Saikaku (1999-2073)
From: “The Lives They Lived”
(“Emperor of the Epidermal Kimono”),
The New York Times Magazine, Sunday, January 2074
The next morning, Masafumi wasn’t too surprised when Harumi didn’t show up with her customary three trays of momengoshi, ready for her special hand-worked embellishment, but when Ignazio didn’t show up for work, either, he grew first puzzled, then...as he worked through each layer of their most recent words and actions, dwelling in particular on the seeming happenstance of their wants and needs, which managed to merge with his own artistic needs and wants, he became angry, shamed to the bone by their tandem deception, their dual interplay of common desire for him to act in their stead (the unspoken upset on Harumi’s part, Ignazio’s urging him to find out what was wrong, the revelation of their common nemesis...and Ignazio’s sudden urge to play Nano-Master to Masafumi’s unsuspecting Apprentice). But his anger washed away like unwanted dye form a resist painting when he ventured for the second time into the restaurant where Harumi had worked, and one of the waitresses hurried over to him, and said, “Harumi, she say for me to tell you something. She say Thank you, and she hope you not angry at her and her boyfriend. She say, they cannot be free unless common enemy is gone. But they cannot be the ones to stop enemy. She hope you understand, and forgive. And she say, she love the new kosode. When they come back, she want more. If you wish to make for her.”
“Did she...did they say where they were going?”
“Las Vegas. She say they have Skin Show there. She say she show off kosode, and will tell everyone you make. Ok? You have meal now?”
“I’m not hungry—”
“Not hungry now, ok...I put in box. Harumi, she pay ahead. She say serve you special dish...you sit, I go get,” and so Masafumi sat, surrounded by scents and memories and distant sounds of cooking, until the waitress placed a plate of kinugoshi before him, and the scent of the deep fried “silken” tofu filled his nostrils. As he picked up his chopsticks, he noticed in the room’s dim light that there was a design, deeply branded, in the center of the slab of kinugoshi:
The ancient symbol for a kimono....
As he lifted the oishii treat to his lips, prior to savoring the warm custard-like interior, Masafumi decided that no matter what it might cost him, or how many free tattoos he might have to give that nano-tech factory worker, he would somehow get the thirteen yards worth of transparent nano-fabric for Harumi’s osode...no other cloth would do, under the circumstances.
AFTERWORD TO “THE HIKIKOMORI’S CARTOON KIMONO”
This version of the novelette is the original manuscript which I submitted to Asimov’s Science Fiction magazine back in 2006; the version which was published early the next year was somewhat shorter and slightly different in spots (including an ending which made it clear that the evil mall cop was actually killed by a mob of justifiably angry Japanese people); I needed to cut about 1,000 words for length alone before it sold, and I simply wanted to restore that material for those readers who might’ve wanted the story to go on just a bit longer. I also thought it would be interesting for readers who have the magazine version (it was in an anniversary issue, and was thus a “must buy” for many sf fans) to be able to compare the two texts, just to see how the editing process can result in small yet significant changes in a particular piece.
I am quite pleased with this work, be it in the original version or in the magazine version—for once I was able to blend many different themes and characters and make everything work as a unified whole.
The freakish rent-a-cop Ulger is based on a policeman in my city who has an inordinate fondness for grabbing small children and man-handling them, among other less acceptable sexual proclivities; while people have been complaining about him for years, the former chief adored him, and refused to acknowledge that his favorite “yes-man” is anything but a wonderful cop—even to the point of placing this goon in charge of security at the local high school. Talk about foxes in henhouses....
Masafumi is one of my favorite characters through; I am very fond of this shy young man who manages to take the otherwise bitter reality of being used for a nefarious act and turn it into something beautiful, and powerfully creative. I only wish I knew how I created him so well—coming up with a fellow like him is one of those rare, unpredictable literary feats that usually remain beyond one’s grasp....
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