Chapter 61: Equality

Chapter 61: Chapter 61: Equality

Mataguchi’s monologue, POV

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?The matte-black truck slowed down smoothly and stopped right at the street corner where Blackhawk had picked me up that morning. The heavy, quiet door clicked open, letting in the cool evening breeze of the busy city street.

?I reached down, picked up a heavy black backpack from the floor, and put it over one shoulder. My left hand, wrapped tightly in thick white medical bandages, gave a dull, mild ache as the cloth moved.

?Before I could grab the door handle, Blackhawk leaned across the console, picked up a heavy plastic grocery bag from the floor, and set it firmly on my lap.

?The bag rustled, filled with raw food—blocks of good beef, root vegetables, curry sauce cubes, and fresh herbs.

?"Take good care of yourself, kid," Blackhawk said. His low, rough voice sounded a bit softer and more fatherly than usual. He pointed at the plastic bag with his chin. "Especially with that hand. Try cooking a real meal for once."

?I looked down at the plastic bag, then back at his tough, masked face. "I don’t think—"

?Before I could refuse, Blackhawk raised a gloved hand, stopping me with a quiet sigh.

?"Don’t start with the data and numbers," he muttered, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. "Just take it. I’m just looking out for you, alright? It’s no big deal. Think of it as bonus pay for getting a hole punched through your hand."

?He didn’t even let me talk.

?I paused for a fraction of a second, rethinking the social situation. "Understood. Thank you, Blackhawk."

?"Yeah, whatever," he grunted, putting the truck back into drive. "Just call me if you ever need anything else. Stay out of trouble."

?The truck glided away from the curb, mixing smoothly into the heavy evening traffic. I stepped onto the sidewalk, fixed the black backpack over my uninjured shoulder, and began walking toward my neighborhood.

?The streets buzzed with the busy energy of the late shift. As I crossed the main avenue, a giant digital screen hanging between two tall corporate buildings flashed to life.

?A live broadcast of a popular pop singer filled the massive screen, her auto-tuned voice mixing with heavy bass music across the plaza. Next to her giant face were moving holographic ads showing new computer-brain links and home cleaning robots, casting colorful neon lights across the crowd of commuters.

?A pop singer?

?I bet this is the kind of stuff Aki would be into. He’s the only one who enjoys watching boring shows.

?I kept my steady pace, my half-closed eyes watching the people around me with calm focus.

?People stood in small circles, laughing and talking. Near the dark opening of an alley, an older man leaned against a brick pillar, taking a slow puff from an electronic cigarette.

?As I passed, his weathered eyes looked up, locking onto mine with a long, unblinking stare—watching my movement as if he were looking for something.

?I wasn’t trying to steal his smoke, though.

?I obviously don’t want it.

?A moment later, normal city trouble got in my way.

?A broad-shouldered young man wearing a fake leather jacket stepped right into my path, making me stop. He looked down at me with a mean smile, crossing his arms in a tough-guy pose.

?"Watch where you’re walking, kid," the thug muttered, his voice sounding mean and unfriendly. "You almost ran right into my shoulder."

?Behind him, two of his friends stood watching with amused grins.

?I did a standard, polite social move. I lowered my head into a quick, shallow bow. "My apologies. I will adjust my walking path accordingly."

?The thug blinked, clearly surprised by my lack of argument. His meanness vanished instantly, replaced by awkward confusion. He cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably.

?"Uh... yeah, whatever, robot freak," the thug muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

?"Is it just me, or is that kid too formal?" the thug added as he walked away.

?What? Did I say something bad?

?One of his friends stepped up, laughing nervously and pulling him by the arm. "Come on, man, leave the kid alone. He apologized. Just watch yourself next time, alright, kid?"

?I didn’t say anything, standing quietly as they turned and walked back into the busy crowd.

?I started walking again. As the crowd shifted around me, I noticed the different moods of the people.

?Some people walked with slumped, tired shoulders after a terrible workday; others buzzed with wild, overexcited energy, looking forward to the night’s entertainment.

?Unfair.

?To me, the way human emotions were handed out seemed completely unbalanced. Completely inefficient. Unfair, even—though fairness wasn’t something you could actually measure in any sociological database.

?Fifty meters ahead, a street performance had drawn a small crowd of watchers. A young woman stood behind a digital sound setup, singing a raw song into a microphone. Next to her, a skinny friend played a semi-transparent carbon-fiber guitar—neither her brother nor her boyfriend, based on how they stood apart from each other.

?A few listeners stood near the curb, dropping coins and bills into an open instrument case before walking away. Some sent money to an account using a tablet on a nearby table. The performers bowed politely to everyone who gave money, no matter how much it was.

?I stopped completely near the edge of the crowd.

?For reasons I couldn’t explain right away, I stayed right there, staring at the performance for a long time. The music followed a basic pattern, yet I couldn’t make myself leave. The slight crack in the singer’s voice and the tapping foot of a watcher held my attention longer than I could explain.

?Not to put her down, but she wasn’t a great singer. I mean, not on Billie Eilish’s level.

?Look at him comparing her, as if she could ever compete in a billion years.

?Eventually, I turned away and kept walking down the concrete street.

?Ten minutes later, I reached the door of my private apartment building, or dorm as some might call it.

?The outside looked exactly the same as always—brushed metal panels, secure electronic door locks, and the quiet hum of the building’s air filters. Yet, I instantly noticed tiny changes in the area.

?A tiny scratch on the bottom left corner of the security panel. A tiny half-millimeter shift in the welcome mat as I pushed the door open.

?A faint smell of artificial ozone lingered in the hallway, likely left behind by portable security scanners or cameras.

?I stayed calm as I kept walking.

?My right hand reached out, hovering inches from the scanner. My bandaged left hand gripped the strap of the black backpack.

?My fingers touched the cold metal of the door handle.

?Then, I paused.

?Strange.

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"Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly."

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