Demon City Shinjuku: The Complete Edition (38 page)

Each terrace was piled with generous amounts of earth and every species of plant and flower known to sixth century B.C. The glittering array of colors created the illusion of a truly floating world.

The meticulous work revealed in the construction of the foundation could be rightly praised for its ruggedness, but its primary task was making it watertight so that the plants and flowers could be bathed with water.

Enormous amounts of water were scooped up from the Euphrates and stored in huge tanks at the top of the terraces. The lower levels were supplied through pipes. Automatic sprinklers kept the gardens continually and uniformly watered.

Some archaeologists theorized that hundreds of slaves turned a water wheel that deposited water from the river in the tanks using leather buckets. Others held that screw-driven pumps did the job. In any case, no evidence remained to support either claim.

The gardens rose to a height of three hundred and fifty feet. Taking into account the technology of the time, it was hard to imagine how they managed to pump water that high.

According to calculations by one architect, the garden must have weighed in the vicinity of seven million tons, besting the six-point-eight million of the Great Pyramid of Giza.

Surely the kind of project that could only have been undertaken by an ancient despot. Not to mention it was built for the enjoyment of a single woman—

Sayaka interrupted the stream of information implanted by the auto-suggestion machines in the Japan section of the World Federation Government Information Bureau, sat back on the sofa, and looked at Doctor Mephisto.

She felt a burning sensation in her chest. That was how comely the man was.

The silky long hair, the black garb, the golden embroidery and pendant glittering against his chest—accessories that would look gaudy and pretentious and downright strange on any other man—only served in this case to magnify the young doctor's beauty.

Sayaka had made it a rule to never judge a man by his outward appearance, and yet she couldn't help herself here. Ten out of ten women would have the same reaction.

Then there was the case of the famous Hollywood actress who betrayed her lover and was in turn infected by a demon that manifested itself in the form of spreading tumors with sentient, speaking faces. When Mephisto operated on her, even those cancerous countenances gaped at him in wonder.

After she was cured, the woman despaired of returning to Hollywood, appealed to the Foreign Ministry without success, and was finally confined to her bed with hysteria. Long story short, she had been bewitched by Doctor Mephisto as well.

Sayaka didn't realize it herself, but within the fever gripping her thoughts, an eerie essence she was quite unfamiliar with coolly entwined its brilliant threads about her. This was that unapproachable secret that set women's hearts on fire, that kept them at arm's length while drawing them like moths to the flame to the handsome doctor.

Since coming to work in Shinjuku, Sayaka had heard rumors aplenty about Doctor Mephisto. They had met on several occasions since the previous incident. He was not a
bad
man—in the conventional meaning of being driven by or to evil ends.

Which was why patients at death's door sought him out day and night.

However, the conventional meaning of
good
could definitely not be attached to him either. Loan sharks who showed up at the hospital to extract their pound of flesh from his patients were summarily ejected. If it didn't end there, they'd be dragged down to the autopsy room and cut to pieces to provide the parts to heal the proper patients.

Needless to say, such terrors had a profoundly deterrent effect. At the same time, considering the rapacious thugs such “treatments” were reserved for, it was hard not to smile and be grateful.

Mephisto was the one who had brought her to this palace. In the evening three days before, having vanquished the monster Ogdora, a woman's voice had called out behind them.

When they'd turned around, standing there was the beautiful woman who'd sent a chill through Sayaka's heart in the coffee shop near Kawadacho Philanthropic Hospital.

“What do you want?” Mephisto asked.

“The magician who destroyed even Ogdora—would he wish to try his hand at unraveling one of the spirit world's great mysteries?”

“What would that be?” Mephisto asked, taking up a protective stance next to Sayaka.

The woman then made the startling declaration that she was Semiramis. The conversation lasted no more than a minute, and concluded with her stating, “If
that
is your desire, then on to the palace.”

All the more surprising was Mephisto's reaction. “Well, how about it?” he said. “True, caution might seem the better part of valor here. Logic dictates that the lamb escaping the jaws of the wolf should not seek shelter in the lion's den. Say the word and I shall gladly escort you home. Should we end up in the lair of a demon god, not only shall I, Doctor Mephisto, be there with you, but I swear that not one finger shall bruise your fair skin. And should the time come, I will take you to safe ground. Moreover, the way I see it, as with Demon City the fate of this palace is aligned with cosmic forces. You hold the key to unlocking it. What do you say? Shall we enjoy a relaxing stroll around?”

His low measured voice, like a lullaby, left her betwixt and between. The lack of compulsion in and of itself was compelling. And they'd hardly be taking a
relaxing stroll
around the palace's mysterious precincts.

And yet, Sayaka's heart said
yes
. She'd hardly hesitated a moment. Hidden within the apparent irresponsibility of Mephisto's proposition was a fount of scientific intrigue that anyone other than her would probably have missed. She was beginning to grasp as well that he had correctly identified her as the key to the whole affair.

The only solution was to go. Whatever was waiting for her—whatever awful fate awaited her there—she would put a stop to the weirdness. With Doctor Mephisto along with her, what could go wrong?

Besides—the face of the jaunty young man rose up in her thoughts like a spring light — Kyoya would definitely come for her.

And so with Semiramis leading the way, the two of them ascended to the floating castle that was Demon Palace Babylon.

Three days had passed since.

In terms of hospitality, they lacked for nothing. Semiramis disappeared at some point. Android maids and an android butler had escorted them to their rooms and waited upon them hand and foot.

The lord of the manor was occupied with a pressing matter and wouldn't be free for three days. Once the opportunity presented itself, he would explicate the mysteries that concerned them. In the meantime, they were to wait here and enjoy themselves to the fullest.

So Sayaka and Mephisto set off to explore the great palace. After three days, they had a very good idea of its construction.

With the exception of the critical power and control rooms and the lord's personal suite, the android butler promised that they could go wherever their feet might take them. The android proved good to its word.

The end result was that they understood that while this floating castle did not, from outward appearances, measure up to the immensity of the grand palaces of old, it really did integrate warped space into its construction on a scale that exceeded any in existence.

What the contemporary state of spatial physics and geometry had only begun to hesitatingly prototype, Babylon Palace had put to practical use in amazing ways, such as extending straight lines and expanding three dimensional space almost indefinitely.

In concrete terms, a cube of a specific volume could, disregarding the finite dimensions of its walls, contain an infinite amount of space.

The wondrous utopias that wizards in ancient China purportedly created in small flasks—filled with seas and mountains and tens of thousands of people leading splendiferous lives—these “universes in a bottle” had now been turned into fact through the miracle of science.

Even with all of the powers of the mysterious manor lord, there must be limits to how far he could warp space. The endless halls had an end, after all. The size of Babylon Palace itself spoke to the limits of technology.

On one occasion during her strolls about the palace, Sayaka experienced a physical manifestation of these spatial manipulations.

Attempting to turn down a certain hallway, a large hand the size of three men blocked the way. The fingers were as big as herself. At a glance, they appeared to be stone. Except that they bent as if human.

Sayaka jumped back in surprise. The concourse she was walking down was wide enough to accommodate three trucks driving abreast. The passageway from which the hand emerged could have barely handled two people. There was no way the owner of the hand could fit in such a space. Assuming correct proportions, the rest of him should be at least twenty-five feet tall.

The hand did nothing else, so Sayaka assumed it was simply a device to indicate the end of the line. So she turned around, and had gone down several more corridors when she suddenly found herself in a hallway with a fairly low ceiling, no more than ten feet high.

A foot abruptly descended in front of her. She understood at once that it was a partner to the hand. She looked up. A leg, from knee to thigh, protruded from the ceiling, showing roughly the same muscular definition as the human equivalent.

No gap appeared where it intersected with the ceiling. The dimension that housed the big foot and this section of the ceiling must bend into a fourth dimension that connected them.

She had no choice but to retreat again and go down a different hallway. When a part of the big body didn't appear, she began to suspect she was being toyed with.

“Doctor Mephisto!” Sayaka called out.

The beautiful countenance, eyes closed, turned to her like a zephyr. She sensed a mystical aroma wafting through the air, but it must be only her imagination.

“It's been three days. The masked lord is supposed to show up today.”

Mephisto said bluntly, “It depends on him.”

“But spending all this time doing nothing—”

“It has been quite the thrilling adventure.”

“Huh?”

“Wherever we go, we are being closely watched. Living eyes, electronic eyes—I haven't had the time to settle down and rest.”

Sayaka had to wonder when this man ever settled down and slept. That was when she saw a reflection in the corner of his eyes. From the corridor leading to the living room, a man in a long robe elegantly made his entrance.

The mask.

“Speak of the devil,” Doctor Mephisto said.

Having appeared at long last, the mask bowed reverentially. “Welcome to my humble abode. I was the one who invited you, so please forgive my long absence.”

“Think nothing of it,” Mephisto answered with a smile. “You've kept the promise made when we arrived and this is reward enough.”

“Naturally.” The mask nodded. “The preparations took three days. I presumed the famous Doctor Mephisto would be satisfied with the arrangements. Please. This way.”

In the direction of his outstretched hand, a door opened that hadn't been there a moment before. The mask led the way. No sooner had they all passed through the door but the floor dropped out from beneath them.

Sayaka managed to stifle a scream, first because the descent was measured, and also because as soon as it began, Doctor Mephisto steadied her shoulders. The touch of his hands through her blouse was cool and firm.

“Free fall transport. But rather than a gravitational field, the application of spatial dynamics. Impressive technology.”

The words communicated admiration but his tone of voice was cool and aloof.

After descending for a hundred and fifty feet, the three of them came to a stop. A stone-lined corridor reached out before their eyes. Though not as richly adorned as above, the limestone exhibited an exceptional craftsmanship, surrounding them with an understated elegance.

This area was distinctly different from the upper levels, which were clearly designed to impress the guests. Rather, it had about it the grave formality of a ceremonial altar.

As if propelled along by a slight breeze, they came to stand before a great bronze door. The mask reached out with his right arm. It opened silently, without so much as a creak.

The expansive interior met their eyes along with a draft of chill air. There seemed no end to the space. The huge columns vanished into the distance. Here and there among the columns could be glimpsed a ring of evenly spaced candlesticks, casting off a wavering blue light.

Surrounded by the eerie flickering flames was a depression in the floor, bowl-shaped like an earthenware mortar. Water filled it to the brim.

The mask said in a muffled voice, “Step closer. See for yourselves.”

“Doctor?” Sayaka looked up at Mephisto.

“Let's take a look,” he said.

They walked forward. The water was crystal clear. Something floated there at the bottom of the pool. Sayaka exclaimed, “It's that woman from before!”

“Yes,” came the mask's voice from behind them, and sounding very far away. “That is Semiramis, my wife.”

“I am familiar with the name of Semiramis,” Doctor Mephisto said, in a voice as solemn and ethereal as the mood of this temple. He could have pronounced himself her husband in the same breath, and no one would have thought it strange.

“However, that is the name of the storied queen of the Babylonian king, she who ruled all of Assyria. For her he built the Hanging Gardens many millennia ago. Ah, and so now the ancient legend appears before us.”

The mask nodded. “It is as you say. Semiramis was that legendary queen, and was my wife. Her body is entombed in the waters of her beloved Euphrates. Even now she slumbers there unblemished.”

“I had heard of an enormous structure constructed in an oasis alongside the Euphrates. It drew water from the river and purified it in order to preserve the cells of a human body from decay. Here are the last vestiges of that water, I suppose.”