Legend has it that when Hana Sensei- owner and proprietor of the adults-only orbital entertainment complex called The Three-Eyed Geisha- was left at the altar by her betrothed, she slashed her own cheek so that all may see her tears of blood. In the gash, she later implanted a third eye, which according to some, only opens when she’s in the throes of ecstasy or extreme passion. And when she cries, her tears in that eye are pure blood. Piece by piece, they say, she has divested herself of her humanity and transformed into a kyber- more machine than human. An act so extreme that some have likened to cybernetic seppuku- a ritualistic destruction of her feelings for the man who betrayed her love.
Those are all legends, of course. As a matter of fact, no one know knows if the fabled Hana Sensei is even real. She’s probably just a marketing creation of Sensei Industries, parent company of this adult entertainment enterprise.
The Three-Eyed Geisha is best known for being the only space biodome in which all workers are recycled androids. These include the pleasure experts who specialize in delighting humans with all manner of heavenly pleasures. It is not an illegal business per se, though many have questions about its morality.
Sarah and I arrived in the complex after a short stop at alpha station on L1. We mixed with the throngs of travelers in The Orb, and we didn’t even need to show our forged documents, which had been procured by Sarah’s friendly but very shady friend.
The magnificence of the Three-Eyed Geisha cannot be overstated. Rows upon rows of biospheres glistening in the starry whiteness of space, like a three-dimensional render against a background of snow. Porous oak beams stretched in giant arcs that held the arenas, bars, clubs, casinos, and intimate boudoirs.
Sarah and I soon lost our senses. Literally. It’d be a few days before we could arrange transport to our next destination, so in the meantime, we decided it would be a good idea to blend in with the tourists and explore the wonders in this garden of delights. We drank, gambled, and watched a few shows, and when it was all over, we woke up tied up and floating in a dank empty room.
Our only contact with our captors was through the comm system. A woman had asked us a few questions and we answered her with a bunch of lies. The inconsistencies in our stories were large enough to fly a spaceship through, but our captors had not bothered following up with further questions.
The door opens and two-gruff looking men float into the chamber.
“This is really a big mistake,” Sarah tells them. “My boyfriend and I haven’t done anything wrong.”
They haul us around like pieces of meat along a dimly lit tunnel. They seem to be very adept at doing this sort of thing and do not bang us up against the walls too hard. Just enough to soften us up.
We arrive in a large room. The men straighten us up and push us forward across the air. I begin to feel the magnetic pull of gravity against the floor.
The men then untie us and stand back.
“Go through there,” the bald one tells us and nods towards the circular door on the other side of the chamber.
Sarah wants to argue with them, so I grab her and tentatively make our way towards the door. The gravity increases and by the time we’re standing in front of the door, I feel less disorientated.
The door slides open like a wheel.
“Oh wow…” Sarah says marveling at the sight before us. A Japanese garden with a clear dome above it, where the earth eclipses the sun and paints a solar halo.
An ethereal sound permeates the atmosphere. At first, I don’t recognize the instrument, then I realize that it’s the sound of voices- deconstructed into musical notes and played as melodies.
There is a path leading to a bridge over a pond. It is strewn with cherry blossoms, softly blowing in the artificial breeze. At the edge of the pond stands a figure. A woman in a scarlet kimono. She’s holding something in one hand while her fingers dance over it.
A tinge of sadness. The melody is haunting, and as it fades, a little girl’s voice says, “I love white paper planes.”
When the music stops, the woman tilts her head and says, “what do you think of my garden?”
Sarah and I look at each other.
The woman turns around. Her skin is flawless except for the small fractures that give her an air of mechanical fragility. Cherry lips eager but guarded. Clear gray eyes that look like silver encased in ice. Perhaps the most memorable feature of that countenance is the third eye on her cheek, closed as if in repose, outlined with cosmetics and carefully braided lashes.
“Have you ever heard of a Chinese philosopher called Li Zhi?” The woman says, her voice rustling like leaves.
“I can’t say that I have,” I said feeling embarrassed at my ignorance.
“There are several ways to die a good death, Li Zhi said.”
She raises her hand, a clear box with gears and tiny levers rests on her palm. With her free hand, she wiggles her fingers above the instrument. A crackling sound emanates from the box, and then a faint voice says,
“Death for a worthy cause, in battle, as a martyr, as a loyal minister, unjustly attacked, premature death after finishing some good piece of worrrrrkkkkkk…”
“Wow…,” exclaims Sarah, “what’s that really him?”
Hana Sensei smiles. “Only an approximation based on historical and genetic archives.”
The geisha looks at me.
“The point,” she says, “is that Mr. Zhi believed that if you’re going to die, it should be at the service of a cause greater than yourself. In his world view, and that of neo-Confucian thought, there is no individuality in death, there is only submission to the gene pool, to the hive. No outlandish notions of self-determination and freedom. If you’re going to die a good death, he believed, then it should be in the service of a higher and bureaucratic authority. Everything else is a just a horror show- with a few gatekeepers along the way to de-animation centers, promising the keys to eternity if you behave.”
“That sounds very depressing,” says Sarah, “but what does this got to do with us?”
“You sneak into a space-bound ship, travel as stowaways, and then barge into my humble establishment under false pretensions; you are not soldiers, loyal ministers, or martyrs, so my only question is what is that worthy cause you’re willing to die for? What is the work that you have left unfinished?”
“Maybe we’re here to liberate all these poor androids you have under your servitude,” says the ever-impulsive Sarah.
“Are you mad?” I tell her.
“I’m just kidding.”
Hana Sensei smiles. “These androids, as you like to call them, would be in a garbage heap if I had not rescued them. I don’t think that I need to remind you that they are not real people, nor do they possess anything close to consciousness and self-awareness. Trust me, I should know. I do understand, however, that humans can get attached to objects and ascribe agency where there is none.”
I feel sweat begin to run down my back.
“But we’re not here to discuss android psychology and metaphysics,” Hana continues, “we’re here to find out what the two of you are doing in the Three-Eyed Geisha.”
Sarah and I realize that we’re out of our depth, and there is no use hiding the truth. So, we tell her everything. The kidnapping, the androids in space, the drugs, and the death experience. Hana Sensei listens with eyes closed. When we finish blabbing about our harebrained scheme to hire a Wulff pilot and find our kidnappers in the peripheral zone, she nods and opens her eyes.
“Like you, there have been others who have come to my orbital domain with wild tales of death-obsessed androids somewhere out there on the far reaches of colonized space. I leave them alone, unless they bring unwanted attention from the authorities or other unsavory characters out there. Soon, they go on their merry way to find their white whale. None of them have ever returned. Besides vanishing into the depths of space, they all have other things in common. Like you, they come here proud, walking tall, rocketing into unknown sectors with cheerful zest like it was a grand holiday adventure. You all desire to burn in the brightest flame. No fear of dying. One can clearly see that you are not patriots, martyrs, or bureaucrats. You don’t seem motivated by service to authority but by your own guiding principles. Hedonists and selfish, some might call you. Humanists others might praise, celebrating the sanctity of the individual above the communal structure.”
“What do you call us?” Sarah asks.
“I call you a business opportunity.”
“Oh yea, what kind of business opportunity?”
“Pleasure, my sweet girl. That’s my business. I cannot promise you immortality, but for a brief moment I can help you forget that the big D is waiting just around the corner.”
Sarah snickers. “The big D? For real? Is that like geisha humor?”
From within the folds of her kimono, Hana withdraws two black cards designed with glowing lines and symbols.
“This will give you free access to the Three-Eyed Geisha. It will also cover the gaps in your trans-orbital travel documents. I will arrange for passage to the O-ring, but beyond that, you’re on your own.”
“What’s in it for you?” Sarah asks with a raised eyebrow.
“If you find what you’re looking for, I want to be the first to know.”
“And if we don’t agree? What will happen to us?”
Hana’s third eye opens and gazes at Sarah.
“I’m not a killer, child, if that’s what you’re thinking. But I will be forced to report you to the authorities and send you back down the gravity well. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”
We are mesmerized by the third eye, which moves back and forth as if it had a mind of its own.
“In three days time, the shuttle will depart,” Hana says handing us the access cards. “In the meantime, enjoy your stay at the Three-Eyed Geisha.”
The third eye closes. Hana walks away across the small bridge then disappears beyond the pond.
“Hey Van,” Sarah says holding up the access card, “ever been to an android orgy?”
Image: Delicate by nachi.art
Owner: litguru
Published under Limited Reproduction rights
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Ever had a plan of making this into a book or something? The storyline is damn interesting
Thanks for the encouraging comment,@gentleshaid. At the moment, I'm just experimenting with the ideas in short form. I'd like to get to the seed of the story quickly and not get too bogged down with the complexity of the long-form book narrative. Later, I wouldn't mind refining it into a novella if the story and characters are compelling enough.
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