Time Enough for Tenchi, part 2: Time Enough for Rain
by Eaerth

I dragged myself out of bed and popped a few stimulants and
a handful of aspirin before trudging into the pouring
Seattle rain.  Raining in Seattle, what a surprise.  Other
salarymen like me in suits and under umbrellas tried to make
the subway without getting too wet.  It was a pointless
effort.  They'll learn eventually.

The good thing was that once I made the subway, I wouldn't
have to see sky until midnight.  After a short bumpy ride
that almost made me throw up, I reached Sony station and
took an elevator to my floor.

At 6:45am I got into my cubicle.  I was 45 minutes late.  My
supervisor shot daggers at me but I ignored him, like I
usually do.  "Mr. Masaki, that's the third time this week."

I mixed some methamphetamine into my coffee and started
coding.

Because I'd been with the company over 25 years, I had the
luxury of sixteen square feet of cubicle.  Junior
programmers got a PC on a table in the Big Room.

A picture of my ex-wife sat by my monitor.

She was the reason I was here, in a way.   I can't guess
what might have been, but after I lost the shrine there was
no need for Japan.  It wasn't making enough to support me
anyway, so I don't mind losing it in the settlement.  I
think there's a resort hotel there now.

About ten years ago when the last of the United States had
been purchased by its corporations, Sony asked me to move to
Seattle.  Why not, I thought.  I wasn't leaving anything
important.

Noon came and I had a three martini lunch with Jonas and
Mrs. Hisahi, the secretary.  After lunch, I took some pills
and got back to clunking the keys on my heavy, but vintage
and expensive, IBM keyboard.  We were two weeks from a major
deadline.  It was around midnight when I could no longer see
the characters on the monitor and wandered out of there.

I saw a dream again in the subway station on my way home. 
She was like the others, soft-focused like she'd stepped out
of a glamourous porno magazine.  Her hair was yellow and she
wore a feathered hat.  She was young, and reminded me of
someone I may have known long ago.

I see more of her every year.  There was a time when I would
see maybe one dream in six months.  Now I see one almost every
day.  Of course, I don't see as well as I used to.

I love how, when I see a dream, the world goes all wavy, as
if it would soon be washed away by downpour.  Raining in
Seattle, what a surprise.

I stopped on my way home at the liquor store and picked up a
few bottles.  I lived on the 8th floor of the Bowness
building, an aging 57 floor apartment complex next to
Sony's High Energy Communication building.

I poured a glass of whiskey and drank it while cooking some
microwave noodles.  I can't remember when I started
drinking.  I think it was after Minami divorced me.  That
seems logical, at least.

If I were a character in a comic book, the night would look
like this:

A 49 year old japanese man slouches in a puke-green chair in
a one-room apartment.  His hair is going gray, tinge of
stubble colors his cheeks, he is a little fat like his
father.  Boxes sit along the walls, some still unopened and
coated with ten years of dust, some open and halfway rifled
through.  No pictures are on the walls, save one depicting a
young man smiling alongside an attractive brunette in a grey
business suit.

The man is pouring another glass of whiskey.  Through the
window we can see it is pouring rain.

The man is drinking.

The man is pouring another glass.  We have seen this frame
already, except now the bottle is almost empty.

The man is drinking.  The bottle lies on the ground by the
chair.  The clock reads one a.m.

The man is drinking.  A bottle of something is half empty on
his lap.

The man is drinking.  Two empty bottles lie on the floor.

The man is passed out in the chair.  A third bottle empties
itself into his lap.  The clock reads three a.m.

				#

"Sasami, this is too sweet," Aeka was saying as I approached
the dining room.

"Tastes fine to me," Ryoko mumbled.

"Naturally you'd think so, you brutish woman.  But I am a
crown princess of Jurai and have much more *refined* tastes. 
And stop talking with your mouth open!"

"Ohayo, Aeka, Ryoko, Sasami," I said as I sat down at the
table.

"Good morning, Lord Tenchi.  Did you sleep well?" Aeka
asked, all sweetness.

"Oh yes, very well.  You know something?"  I said, quickly
bolting down some food because I wouldn't have the chance to
finish it.  "You're a very cute girl."

"Well ah, ah, Tenchi," she said, eyes so bright it hurts to
remember them.

"But you'd be much cuter if you weren't such a prissy bitch
all the time."

"Why, you...!"  I ducked to avoid the bowl she hurled over
my head.  "I'll kill you!"

I ducked and dived as the rest of the tableware shattered
into the walls around me, and fled around the house avoiding
whatever projectiles she could hurl.

I woke up from the dream listening to the sound of Tenchi's
laughter.  The past, like the people you love, never
returns.

I drifted back to sleep.

And like the rain.

"Listen, Aeka, you can't do this," Ryoko said.

"Of course I can."

"You can't blame everyone for the actions of a few, no
matter how destructive."

"That is exactly what I am going to do," Empress Aeka said. 
"I was good to them.  I gave them a chance, and look what
they did to me.  My favorite teacher, Dr. Barenn died in
that bombing.  They must pay.  They must all pay."

				#

"Did I remember to tell you I adore you, and I am living for
you alone?"

I woke up with a line from an old song in the empty room,
along with the buzzing of the alarm.  I stumbled to my feet,
dumped my sticky clothes onto the floor, and dug around in
the closet for some cleaner clothes.  I wasn't going to be
late today.  I pulled on some jeans and a vendor t-shirt and
went to the subway, stopping only once outside to catch my
breath.

Though the rain sobered me up a bit, I was still a little
drunk when I walked into the office.  I said hi to my
supervisor.  "Good to see you on time for once, Mr. Masaki."

I had to take a handful of pills to concentrate on work. 
Then I entered my coding trance.

I was thinking of something as I coded.  I couldn't put my
finger on it, but it felt important.  I felt like I was
coming to a decision, though I had no idea what decision
that was.

Someone tapped me on the shoulder.

"What?  What is it?" I snapped, swiveling around.  "What,
huh, what?  Oh, sorry Miss Welles, you shouldn't interrupt
me when I'm programming."

"Is everything ok, Mr. Masaki?  You don't look well."

"I'm fine.  You just startled me."

"I have some specifications for you.  There's a design
meeting at two."

"Ok."

"Can you be there?" she asked.

"Oh, yes.  Yes, I'll be there," I said.

"Thanks.  Go get some lunch, it's almost one."

I sat in a Fry King eating an American hamburger and fried
cinnamon batter.  It was the first thing I'd eaten all day
and almost made me sick, but I kept it down.  I sat at
my table listening to reconstructed jazz on the muzak.

As I sat there sweating, a woman came in trailing two
children.  I watched them as they passed my table.  The
woman smelled of cherry blossoms.

"Why didn't you finish the job!" I shouted at her, standing
up.  "Why didn't you finish the job!"   One of her children
started crying.  "Why didn't you finish the job?" I asked.

"I didn't do anything!" she said.  "I don't know what you're
talking about."

"I'm sorry," I said, startled.  I bowed to her.  "I don't
know where that came from.  I'm sorry for scaring your
little girl."  I bowed again and backed out of the Fry King.

The girl looked a lot like Sasami, I think.  I got good and
sauced before going back in to work.  I was dazed for the
rest of the day.

At about six, my supervisor called me into his office.  He,
his boss Dr. Tung, and Miss Welles were there.

"We're going to have to let you go, Mr. Masaki," Dr. Tung
said.

"You're a very talented programmer and designer," my
supervisor said, "but your work quality has decreased below
acceptable levels."

"I understand," I said.  "Very well.  Goodbye."

I took only the photograph of Minami when I left.

				#

And so it goes.  By the time the rain really started, I was
too gone to care.  I just wanted to sleep, for the first
time in a long time.  I washed down a handful of sleeping
pills with my whiskey and tried to walk toward my bed.

The explosion outside bathed me in shards of my window. 
Sparks, flame, and bits of concrete followed as I fell to
the ground with my hands over my face.  I peeked through my
fingers.  The High Energy Communication building was on
fire.  The ground shuddered as another blast erupted from
the building next door.  My apartment was now ablaze.

I stumbled to my feet as another explosion filled the air
with dust and bits of masonry.  I grabbed a photograph from 
the floor and picked another one off the wall, from the fire, 
and shoved them in my shirt.  Then I got out of there.

The elevator was dead so I ran/crawled down the stairs. 
Other people passed me on the way, shouting.

I collapsed outside, in the mud, ash, dust, rock, and rain.

I lay there.  I heard a loud roaring sound as heavy drops
splattered on my face.  This was it.  This was the end.  I
was bleeding, everything hurt, and the world was so deeply
shrouded I couldn't see.  And through every thought came the
splatter and pour of rain.  Raining in Seattle, I thought. 
What a surprise.

Two shadows stood over me.

"Shit, why didn't I guess this would happen?" a voice said. 
"Fate has us by the short hairs."

"Huh?" another said.

"I should have guessed that if we came to Earth, our paths
would cross."

"Uhh, shouldn't we get him out of here?" the second voice
asked.

"Yes.  Help me move him."  Hands dragged and lifted me.

"Oww, he's heavy," the second voice said.  "And he smells
like turpentine."

I passed out.


---------
The names of Tenchi, Washu, Aeka, Sasami, Ryoko, Mihoshi,
and Kiyone are copyrighted and probably trademarked by AIC
& Pioneer LDC.  I don't claim any ownership over them.
Beyond the names, this story has just about nothing to do
with the series.  I hope you don't feel cheated.

Completely unrelated stuff, such as my comic, "Kevorkian 
Won't Return My Calls," can be found at my website.
http://eaerth.isfuckingbrilliant.com/ is the redirect.

The email address on this post has been spam harvested and
at least one of the spammers has the Klez virus, so I'm
getting that mailed to me too.  If you send anything there, 
there's a good chance I won't even notice it when I check 
email (once every couple months).

If you have any comments or questions or anything, check the
website.  I used to put my real email address here at the
bottom, but the website redirector has lasted two years, 
which is longer than any email service I've signed up with 
has lasted.  Sorry for the extra step, but if you'd tried 
to send a message to the old address at the bottom of this
chapter and gotten a bounce, you'd understand why.