The first thing he noticed was the smell, the rancid drippings of half-eaten bento boxes, dried up urine mixing into the humid summer air, and salty metal. The dried up blood in his nose and mouth. He realised he was in complete darkness, barely able to move his limbs, feeling crushed by something.
He began to kick and shove, moving around massive bags covering his body. Each kick only intensified the stench further, his struggling forcing constant shallow breaths of the filth.
Finally a kick gave way to a steel door, and it flashed with light. He gathered what strength he had left, and kicked again. The door swung wide open, and the sun shone brightly at his eyes, blinding him for a moment.
As his eyes adjusted, he climbed himself out. It was a large dumpster, and he was still in Harajuku.
His head pounded, his stomach churned, and his vision spun. The stench, the kicking, the adrenaline, the fucking hangover. He retched and emptied his stomach onto the street.
"Coulda just did it in the dumpster y'know? Now I gotta deal with this smell, in this gonk-ass heat."
The voice was sharp and tired. Interrupted occasionally by the pull and puff of an electronic cigarette.
The man was skinny, spiky haired and dresed in a black leather jacket with innumerable studs and spikes. His electronic smoke machine had a skull at its mouth, which he would kiss to take puffs.
"Name's Shingo. Been waiting for you to get up, choom. You've been out for a while, they finally decided to dump you after your other malfunction last night."
He was confused. He was just partying at an event, taking shots, grabbing a stray ass or two, and doing the usual SNS exchanges. Music got a bit intense, and the shots stronger, but nothing out of the ordinary.
"You're Ryota Kanamori, I know. Coolest kid on the street. Until about 7 hours ago."
It wasn't crazy for someone to know his name, but what does he mean until 7 hours ago?
"You were on one of those PAN programs for months. Kids you paried with cut you last night after it malfunctioned for the Nth time. Thought you flatlined and dumped you like trash. Little shits knew the PAN was fried, but not that your normal personality kick-starts your brain back when it sizzles out."
PAN? Personality Alteration Neuralware. He knew of it, he had heard and been tempted many times, but never went for it. He was happy, he was trendy, popular. Had the girls, and the money. Didn't need it.
"You probably think you never needed it, and you're right. You were a good kid, a bit of a gonk, but not a bad guy. The night you're probably remembering is the last memory of the normal you, before the PAN took over."
A puff of pink smoke flew past Ryota's face, forcing a short cough.
"You pissed off the wrong guy, and went for the wrong girl. An Ebmitsu exec. They fucked with the trends you followed. You had to spend more than you had to keep up. Joined some shitty service job working for the kids who used to worship you. They kicked you around and spat on you. Circle of fucking life eh?"
He slotted a new cartridge in the E-cig machine, took a big puff, and blew more smoke into Ryota's face.
"We tried to help you, but you didn't listen anymore. Used your last yen to buy into the experimental PAN scop, and we lost you. You went back into your flashy brat life, wooing everyone with your plastic corpo-charisma. But worse this time, with a weird obsession with Ebmitsu's subsidiary fashion brands."
Ryota's head started to wrack again, pulsing as if shocked by a taser. He saw memories he didn't remember, differing by months. Things he would never do or say. And blood.
Bloodied friends, bloodied hands, broken tables and furniture. Bloodied execs in Arasaka-branded suits. Men in black he didn't recognise. Corpses... The memories sent a shiver through him. A fear.
"The kids you were with last night tried to dump you out and make it look like an overdose. But Ebmitsu's gonna want to clean up their mess. So, time for you to disappear."
Shingo turned his head towards him in a smug grin. "Don't worry choom, you can always come back to the Rats. Lets clean up this town together, and smother it in shit."
He held out his hand.
