Chapter 10 Chapter nine

Emiko woke up in the sweltering heat of the afternoon.She stretched her limbs, and took a shallow breath in the five-person room that was as hot as a furnace. To the north is a place where clockwork men live.The news made her very excited.It's a reason to live. She raised one hand to the board above her bed, felt the knots in the wood, and remembered the last time she had felt so content.She recalls Japan, and the luxuries that Mr. Iwato gave her in his will: her own apartment; climate control to keep her cool in the hot, humid summer; Differently change the color of the light, blue when swimming slowly, and red when swimming fast.At that time, she often went to knock on the glass fish tank, watching these fish glow red in the dark water, making these clockwork life emit the most beautiful light.

At that time, she also exuded a dazzling light.She is perfectly designed and well trained to know how to act as bed partner, secretary, translator and observer.She served her master so well that he doted on her even more, releasing her into the blue sky like a dove.She had had that honor. Looking down at her were knots on the plank, the only decoration on the plank.This board separates her bunk from the top bunk and blocks the litter thrown by those around her.The boards reeked of linseed, making her nauseous in the heat of the five-person room.In Japan, strict laws restrict the use of this type of wood in the construction of human dwellings.But in this slum among tall buildings, no one would care about that.

Emiko's lungs seemed to be on fire.She breathed shallowly, listening to the snores and grunts of the others.The poor facilities cannot block the sound of other berths.Puente is definitely not back yet.Otherwise she would be being beaten, or kicked, or raped by now.She was subjected to this abuse on an almost daily basis.Pu Entai has not come back, maybe he is dead.The last time she saw him, the cauliflower-shaped lesion on his neck had grown very deeply. She slowly moved her body, crawled out of her bunk, and stood up straight in the narrow passage between the five-person room and the door.She stretched, then reached for the plastic bottle in the bunk.The bottle has turned yellow due to age and is much thinner than before.She drank the blood-warm water with difficulty, almost vomiting it out.She longed for some ice cubes.

There was a broken door two flights up, leading to the roof.She rushed to the roof, and the sun and hot air surrounded her.Even under direct sunlight, it was cooler than in the five-person room.All around are clotheslines on which square skirts and trousers are drying, rustling in the sea breeze.The sun had already begun to set, and the spiers of pagodas and monasteries shone with light.The waters of the canals and Chao Phraya River glisten, too, as kink-sprung dinghies and clipper boats glide on red mirrors. Looking north, the orange haze of burning dung and moisture in the air obscured her view.But if the pale-skinned, scarred-necked Fran was to be believed, there should be a colony of Clockwork Men far in that direction.Beyond the armies that fought for coal and emerald and opium, her people waited for her.She was never Japanese.She's just a clockwork person, always has been.And now, her true Clan was waiting to take her, if only she could get there.

She looked north longingly for a moment, then walked over to the bucket.There was no water upstairs—there wasn't enough pressure in the pipes to get it up high, and she couldn't risk showering next to the public pump.So every night she struggled to climb the stairs with the bucket, where she put it for use during the day. In the privacy of the outdoors under the setting sun, she washes her body.It is a ritualistic process in which she carefully purifies herself.A bucket of water, a small bar of soap.She crouched by the bucket and poured water over herself with a ladle.This is an extremely delicate matter, just like the dance of preface, a series of movements are cleverly set, and each movement is carefully choreographed, reflecting the respect for scarce things.

She poured a spoonful of water over her head.Water ran down her face, onto her chest, ribs and thighs, and finally dripped onto the hot concrete.The next spoonful of water soaked her black hair and flowed down her back to her buttocks.Another spoonful of water formed a film on her skin like mercury.That was the time to use the soap, and she applied a little to her hair first, then to her body.She was to wash off the insults of the previous night until she was a lathery white sheen.Next came the bucket and ladle again, rinsing off the foam in the same order as before. The clear water washed away the soap scum and dirt, and even took away some of the shame.If she wanted to wash herself clean, it wouldn't do a thousand years; but she was too tired to care, and she was used to scars that couldn't be washed away.Sweat, alcohol, sticky, salty cum, she could wash it off.that's enough.She was too tired to scrub vigorously.She is always so hot and so tired.

When the rinse was over, she was pleased to find that there was still a little water in the bucket.She scooped up a spoonful and gulped it down.Then, with an urge she knew was wasteful but couldn't suppress, she poured the rest of the water over her head in a deliriously pleasurable outpouring.At this moment, her whole body is surrounded by water, and the water splashes around her toes-at this moment, she is clean from the inside out. Out on the street, Emiko tries to fit in with the daytime street activities.Sensei Misumi trained her to walk in a certain way in order to make the jerky movements of her body beautiful and to emphasize this beauty.But if she restrains her nature and her training very carefully—if she wears a square skirt and keeps her arms from moving—she can be almost human.

On both sides of the street, needleworkers sit on sofa chairs, waiting for their evening business, next to their pedal sewing machines.Snack sellers pile up leftovers, waiting for the last customers of the day.Night market food stalls have already set up bamboo benches and tables on the streets. The occupation of the streets means the end of the day, but for this tropical city, the real life of the day has just begun. Emiko tried not to stare at others.It had been a long time since she had ventured out on the daytime streets.When Raleigh rented a five-person room for her, he gave her strict instructions.He couldn't let her live in Phnom Chit - even whores, pimps and drug addicts have a limit.So he put her in the slums, where the bribes were cheaper and the residents weren't too picky about the other scum.But his instructions were still strict: she could only go out at night, use the shadows to hide at all times, go directly to the club, and go straight home after leaving the club.If these instructions were not followed, it would be very difficult for her to survive.

She walked through the crowd, the back of her neck aching from the sun.Most people won't notice her.The advantage of going out during the day is that people are busy with their own livelihoods, and even if they happen to see her acting strangely, they don't have time to pay attention to her.In the middle of the night, under the green light of the methane street lights, there are fewer prying eyes, but they are all idle people, in the high state of fresh drugs, they have both time and energy to find their prey. A woman selling papaya slices certified by the Ministry of the Environment stares suspiciously at her.Emiko forced herself not to show the slightest panic, and continued walking down the street with small steps.She tried to convince herself that she looked just a little odd and wouldn't be recognized as a genetically modified sinner.Her heart was about to burst out of her chest.

too fast.To slow down, you have plenty of time.Maybe not as much as hoped, but enough for you to ask questions.slower.Be patient.Don't expose yourself, don't overheat. The palms of her hands were covered with sweat, the only part of her whole body that felt cool.She kept her palms open, like a fan, to make herself a little more comfortable.She stopped at a public water pump, splashed water on her skin, and took a few more swigs.To her relief, new humans are almost never afraid of any bacterial or parasitic infections.For those things, she was not a suitable host.At least, this provides some convenience for her actions.

If she hadn't been a new human, she could have gone straight to Hua Lamphong Station, bought a ticket for the Kink Spring train, and taken a ride to the ruins of Chiang Mai, and from there into the wilderness.very simple.But now she has to rack her brains.There will be guards on the road.Any road leading to the northeast and the Mekong region is full of armed men moving back and forth between the capital and the eastern front.Neo-humans will undoubtedly attract attention, especially considering the Vietnamese side used military-style Neo-humans in the war. But there is another way.As early as her time with Mr. Iwato, she knew that most of the freight in the Kingdom of Thailand was carried by rivers. Emiko turned a corner and walked along Menggu Road towards the wharf and embankment.She stopped suddenly.It's a white shirt.She shrank into a ball by the wall, and two white shirts walked past her proudly.They didn't even look at her—as long as she didn't move, she was no different from anyone around her—even though, after they were out of her sight, she felt a sudden urge to hurry back to the building she lived in.There, most of the white shirts had already taken bribes and acquiesced to her presence, and here... she shivered. After walking for a while, the warehouses and trading posts of foreigners finally appeared in front of her eyes. This is a newly built business district.She found her way to the top of the sea wall and went up.At the top of the sea wall, she saw the sea unfolding before her.The clippers were unloading, the dockworkers and coolies were pulling the loads, and the mahouts were directing the giant elephants to carry the heaviest loads.Pallets laden with goods are unloaded from clipper boats, loaded onto huge Laotian rubber-wheeled wagons, and transported to warehouses to be sold.Scenes of memories about the past appeared in front of her eyes, merging with the reality. There is a vague trace on the sea line in the distance, which is Angrit Island, a quarantine area.There, foreign businessmen and senior agricultural managers squat among piles of food, waiting patiently for crop failure or plague to break down the kingdom's trade barriers.Mr. Iwato once took her to a floating island made up of bamboo rafts and warehouses.As they stood on the gently swaying deck, she translated for him while he confidently sold the latest shipping technology to foreigners, helping them spread enhanced soybeans more quickly around the world. Emiko sighed, leaned over and slipped under the "sacred silk thread".This blessed thread encircles the entire sea wall and extends out of sight on both sides.Every morning, monks from different temples will bless this silk thread, attaching spiritual power to this embankment against the sea. Once upon a time, Mr. Iwato pampered her quite a bit, and even allowed her to walk freely in the city with impunity, so Emiko had the opportunity to see the annual blessing ceremony.Levees, water pumps and the "sacred thread" that connects these things are among the blessed.Emiko had seen it with her own eyes, when the first rains of the monsoon season fell, and Her Majesty the Child Queen herself pulled down the lever to make the holy water pump roar, her figure so small in front of the huge equipment her ancestors had created.The monks chanted the scriptures and pulled the new sacred thread from the altar in the center of the city-the religious center of the City of Angels-to all around, connecting all twelve coal-burning water pumps around the city. , and then pray that this fragile city will continue to survive. As for now, the dry season is not over yet, the sacred silk thread looks quite worn out, and most of the water pumps are silent.Floating piers, barges and boats sway softly in the red glow of the setting sun. Emiko walked slowly down to the busy port, looking around at people's faces.She hoped to spot a friendly-looking face.She watched people pass her by, keeping her body still so as not to betray her nature.Finally, she mustered up the courage to stop a passing worker: "Hello. Please help me, sir. Can you tell me where the boat going north can go as far as possible?" The man was covered in sweat and got a lot of dust from his work, but he still showed a friendly smile, "Where do you want to go?" She tried to name a city, although she had no idea how far it was from the place the foreigner said, "Phitsanulok?" He frowned, "Nowadays no ship will go that far, usually only a little north of Ayutthaya. The water level of the river is too low. Some people use the huge river Malaxian to go further north, but You can't go very far either. Kink spring boats can go a little farther, but it's a war now..." He shrugged. "If you're going north, I think it's dry enough overland for at least a while." She hid her disappointment and gave a Namaste carefully.There is no way to go by water.Either go overland or do nothing.If she can walk by water, she can also cool herself down at any time.And by land... she imagined walking that long distance in the tropical sunshine of the dry season.Maybe she should wait until the rainy season before starting.After the rainy season, the temperature will drop and the water level of the river will rise... Emiko returned to the top of the sea wall and began to descend.She walks through the slums where longshoremen live, and occasionally encounters sailors who have escaped quarantine and come ashore for fun.Well, let's go overland.It's stupid to come to the pier.It would be nice if she could ride the twist-spring train, but that required a permit, and just getting on the train required all sorts of permits.If she bribed someone, stole without a ticket... She frowned.All methods ultimately come down to Raleigh.She had to talk to him, beg the old crow to give her something he had absolutely no reason to give. She walked past a man.The man has a dragon tattooed on his belly and a takraw ball tattooed on his shoulder.He stared at her with glazed eyes. "A clockwork idiot," he murmured under his breath. Hearing this, Emiko didn't slow down, she didn't even turn around, but her skin began to tingle. The man followed her. "A clockwork fool," he said again. She glanced back.His face looked unfriendly, and she noticed with horror that he was missing a hand.He stretched out the handless stump and pushed her shoulder.She bounced away subconsciously, that kind of pause and pause, which exposed her true nature.He laughed, showing teeth blackened by betel nuts. Emiko turned a corner and entered an alley, hoping to get rid of the man.He called out behind her again: "A clockwork monster!" Emiko stepped into a labyrinth of alleys and accelerated her pace.Her body began to heat up, and her hands were sticky with sweat.She gasped for breath, trying to expel the heat from her body.But the man still followed her.He didn't call her again, but she could hear his footsteps.She turned the corner again, and a group of Cheshire cats scattered by her, their colors changing and flickering, as if they were covered with cockroaches.If only she could change color like they did, she could hide by the wall and let the man walk past her without seeing him. "Where are you going, Clockwork Man?" cried the man. "I just wanted to get a good look at you." If she was still with Mr. Iwato, she would dare to face this man.She would stand before him with the confidence that she had the stamp of import, that she was legal property, that she was protected by the consulate, and that her master could threaten punishment.Yes, she is an object, but even so, she is respected.With her signature and passport, she is no longer evidence of a crime against nature, but a very valuable property. The exit of the alley was just ahead, and beyond was a high street full of foreign warehouses and trading posts, but she couldn't escape there, and the man grabbed her by the arm.Her body was hot, and fear had taken hold of her.She stared hopelessly out at the street, but there were only squat houses, dry goods stalls, and a few foreigners who would not help her.The last person she wanted to meet right now was a Grahamist. The man dragged her back into the alley. "Where do you think you could run, Clockwork Man?" His eyes were bright and cold.He was chewing on something - an amphetamine.He is a junkie.Coolies use the drug to keep working, burning calories that don't exist in their bodies.He grabbed her by the wrist, his eyes sparkling.He pulled her deep into the alley, where no one outside could see her.She was too hot to run away.Even if she could, there would be nowhere to escape. "Stand against the wall," he said. "No," he pushed her around halfway, "don't look at me." "Please don't hurt me." A small knife suddenly appeared in his healthy hand, the blade gleaming coldly. "Shut up," he said, "Stay still." His voice was commanding, and despite her reluctance to do so, her genetic instincts forced her to obey. "Please, let me go," she whispered. "I fought with your kind. In the jungles to the north, there are Clockwork Men. They're soldiers." "I'm not one of those," she whispered. "Not a military model." "They are all made in Japan, just like you. Your kind caused me to lose a hand, and many of my comrades in arms, they all died." He showed her his severed arm and used the remaining stump Push her cheek.His scorching breath spewed on the back of her neck, the stump had already encircled her neck, and the knife in his hand was pressed above her carotid artery.The knife gently rubbed against her skin. "Please, let me go." She rubbed her hip between his legs, "I'd do anything." "Do you think I would defile myself like that?" She yelled in pain as he pressed her hard against the wall. "Fucking a brute like you?" He paused, then said, "Get down on your knees." On the street outside, rickshaws rattled and rattled across the cobblestones.People shouted, asking the price of the hemp rope and when the Lufini Muay Thai bouts started.The knife began to slide around her neck again, and the arteries under the knife's point trembled. "I saw my comrades die with my own eyes. Died in the jungle, by the hand of the Japanese clockwork man." She swallowed, and repeated in a low voice: "I'm not that kind." He laughed, "Of course you're not. You're a different kind of creature. The kind the Japs keep in the docks across the river. My people are starving, and it's something like you that takes what's in their bowls." meal." The blade pressed against her throat.He would kill her, she was sure of that.The hatred in his heart was too strong, and she was nothing but a piece of trash.He was high and angry and dangerous, and she was nothing.Even if Mr. Iwato is still there, there is no way to protect her in this situation.She swallowed hard, feeling the blade against her throat. Will you die like this?This is the meaning of your life?Bled to death like a pig? A flame of anger ignited in her chest, dispelling the despair like a maggot attached to the bone. Won't you just try to live?Could it be that those scientists made you so stupid that you almost lost your own life and still dare not resist? Emiko closed her eyes and prayed to Mizuko Jizo, and then to the spirit of the strange cat.She took a deep breath, then slammed the hand that held the knife.The blade cut across her neck, leaving a bloodstain. "Arai wa?!" the man yelled. Emiko pushed him away hard, leaning over to avoid the knife he was swinging.She rushed out into the street, hearing a bang and a grunt behind her, but she didn't look back.She rampages down the streets, and she doesn't mind at all if she looks like a clockwork man, or if running so fast will cause her to overheat to death.She just kept running, determined to escape from the demons chasing her.She might die of overheating, but she would never be killed without a fight like a pig. She fled along the street, dodging piles of durians and jumping over hemp rope coiled on the ground.There was no point in this suicidal flight, and even so, she wouldn't stop.A foreigner stood in front of a pile of local Udex rice packed in sacks, bargaining with the stall owner, blocking her way.She pushed the foreigner aside and continued to run forward without looking back, leaving the foreigner shouting and cursing behind her. Around her, the flow of people and cars on the street seemed to slow down, almost to a crawl.Emiko deftly dodges stacks of bamboo materials at a construction site.Running is surprisingly easy.People moved as slowly as if encased in honey, but she was the only one moving freely.When she looked back, she found that the person chasing her had been left far behind by her.His slowness surprised her, and she couldn't imagine that she was so afraid of him just now.She laughed, laughing at the ridiculous sluggishness of the world... She bumped into a worker and both fell to the ground.The man yelled, "Arai wa! Walk carefully!" Emiko struggled to get up and knelt on the ground, her hands were numb from the abrasions, and she couldn't feel anything.She wanted to stand up, but the world in front of her suddenly became blurred.She fell to the ground.But she still got up staggeringly, as if drunk, the heat inside her body was too much for her to bear.The ground seemed to be shaking back and forth, but she stood up nonetheless.She leaned against a sun-burned wall as the man she knocked over yelled at her.His anger meant nothing to her.The darkness and heat were about to engulf her, and she seemed to be on fire. Among the tangled animal-drawn carts and bicycles on the street, she caught a glimpse of a foreigner's face out of the corner of her eye.She blinked hard to keep herself from passing out, and took a step forward.Is she crazy?Is the spirit of the strange cat playing with her?She grabbed the shoulder of the man who was yelling at her and looked down the street, trying to make sure that her brain was hallucinating from the heat.The worker screamed and shrank back at her grasp, but she didn't realize it. The face flashed past the traffic again.It was the foreigner, the pale man with the scarred neck who had shown up at Raleigh, the man who had told her she could go north.The rickshaw he was riding in was barely visible before being blocked by a giant elephant.Then he reappeared, on the other side of the street.He was looking at her, and their eyes met.It was that person, she was absolutely sure. "Catch her! Don't let that clockwork monster get away!" It was the man who had attacked her, he shouted, brandishing a knife, stumbling over the bamboo material of the construction site.What shocked her was that his movements were so slow, beyond her imagination.She looked at him in bewilderment.Did the war make his legs disabled?But obviously not the case, his walking posture is completely normal.This feeling is only because everything around her has slowed down, whether it's people or cars.too weird.It was surreal slow. The worker grabbed her arm.Emiko didn't struggle, just searched the traffic with all her strength, hoping to see the foreigner again.Is she hallucinating? there!It was that foreigner again.Emiko struggled to break free and dived into the traffic.Using what little energy was left in her body, she slid under a gigantic elephant, nearly being stepped on by its pillar-like legs.She made it to the other side of the street without incident, ran towards the rickshaw that the foreigner was riding in, and stretched out her hand to him in despair, like a beggar... He looked at her with cold eyes, completely unmoved.She nearly fell to the ground and had to hold on to the rickshaw to stabilize herself, but she knew he would push her away.She is nothing but a clockwork person.She is a fool.She was so stupid to think he would treat her as a person, a woman, an object that wasn't trash. Suddenly, he grabbed her hand and pulled her to the car.He yelled at the coachman and told him to go away--ride fast, ride fast! —Tell him to speed up and drive away from here.He shouted at the coachman in three different languages.Their car started to accelerate, but very slowly. Her attacker leapt into the rickshaw.The knife in his hand scratched her shoulder.Emiko saw her own blood spilled on the seat of the rickshaw, and the bright red beads of blood, like jewels, quickly congealed in the sun.He raised his knife again to strike.She tried to raise a hand to protect herself, to fight back, but she was too tired.Exhaustion and heat had overwhelmed her.The man screamed and swung the knife again. Emiko watched the knife fall, so slowly it fell like honey spilled in winter.So slow, yet so far away.Her flesh and blood were cut open, and the heat spread out.Her vitality is rapidly draining.The knife fell again. Suddenly, the foreigner jumped between them.In his hand was a gleaming wind-up pistol.Emiko was vaguely curious: Why did he carry a weapon?She watches foreigners wrestle with junkies, and the picture gets smaller and more distant.It was so dark...the heat finally consumed her.