Nagamuru ya

Edo niha marina

Yama no tsuki.

I keyed the cultural database in my cortical stack, then listened to its whispering: "I stare at something rarely seen in Edo: the moon in the mountains. This is a haiku by the Japanese poet Bashō, part of his autumn poems ... ."

The cultural database droned out its explanation until I stopped it. I didn't want to hear any more about the poems of Bashō. Not for now. Right now, I needed to work out why I had been sent the poem.

The 'who' was easy. I had come to Japan to find an old partner of mine, Tony Nomura. He still owed me a favour from when we worked together - a favour that I finally needed to call in. I had posted a message on an online board, one that we had used in the past to communicate with our clients. My message had all the appropriate key phrases in it to get Tony's attention and to let him know that it was me. It hadn't taken long. I had only been in Tokyo for twelve hours when I had received the reply.

But what did it mean?

I knew the haiku had come from Tony - or one of his cutout accounts. And the fact that he had sent it meant that he wanted to get in contact with me. I just had to work out how and where. Tony had always been a tricky bastard. He liked to be mysterious; said it was good for business. When I told him he only did it because he was trying to be the inscrutable oriental, he just grinned at me.

I sat at a street ramen stall, nursing a bowl of broth and noodles. The stallholder looked at me with quiet resentment. Obviously she didn't like foreigners. I ignored her. I had paid for my ramen, and it wasn't like there was anyone queuing up for her soup. So, as I ate, I keyed the cultural database again.

"Where did Bashō live?" I asked it.

The database digested this query and tried to put it into some kind of context it could understand. "Matsuo Bashō was born in Ueno, Iga Province, in 1644. In 1672, following the death of his patron, Bashō moved to the city of Edo. In 1680 his disciples honoured him by building him a dwelling in Fukugawa."

Edo. I felt I was on the right track. I queried the database. "Clarify the reference to Fukagawa."

"Fukagawa was a district of Edo. It is now part of the Kōtō ward of Tokyo."

Right. This was a start. I got up from my stool and passed my bowl to the stallholder. ⎡Maybe you'd have more customers if you weren't such a bitch,⎦ I said in Japanese. She spat in my footsteps as I walked away.

I took the metro to Kōtō City. It had once been a series of islands in Tokyo Bay; now it was just another part of Tokyo, built on reclaimed land. I left the station and took to the network of pedestrian walkways that ran above street level, going from building to building. The night around me was illuminated by neon tubes and holograms. One sign caught my eye - a sodium moon rising above a strontium mountain.

Yama no tsuki.

I laughed out loud. The passers-by stopped to stare at me, then went on their way. I was just another crazy gaikujin to them.

I hurried along the walkway to the sign. It was for a joyland - an establishment where those seeking the pleasures of the flesh could rent a room and the bodies to go with it by the hour. Even here in Japan there were still those who needed physical gratification.

The madame at the desk was a geisha with cylon eyes. She bowed deeply. "Konbanwa. How may we pleasure you tonight?"

I bowed back, keeping her eyes in sight. ⎡Do you have a room for me? I believe I have a reservation.⎦

⎡What name would it be in?⎦

I thought for a moment, then went for the obvious choice. ⎡It will be in the name of Nomura Tomio.⎦

Her eyes went blank as she connected to the building systems, leaving a pair of soulless wells in the white mask of her face. ⎡Yes. That would be room 575.⎦

575? Of course. Haiku.

⎡The room has been paid for.⎦ The madame frowned. ⎡Would you care to review the details to be sure that the experience is suitable for you?⎦

I shook my head. ⎡No. I am sure that all is as it should be.⎦

The geisha bowed and clapped twice. A young woman dressed as a maiko, her hands etched with the silver threads of enhancements, escorted me to my room. It was laid out in the traditional Japanese style - tatami mats, two futons and pair of lacquered wood and paper screens. On the futon was a naked joygirl. A cable ran from a jack on the back of her head to a port underneath the floor. She could be programmed to be her client's perfect fantasy, to be the perfect fuck. Then her mind would be restored so she could go on her way, richer in credit but poorer in spirit.

"Hey," I said. "I'm here, Tony. I've solved your puzzle. Now talk to me."

The joygirl sat up and stared at me, her eyes seeing me but her mind not comprehending. Then she spoke. "Hey, Chat. Long time no see. I got your message. How's it going girl?"

I took off my boots, then padded across to the futon. "Less of the 'girl'. I've come to collect on a favour."

The joygirl nodded. "I do owe you. So, what's the giri?"

I sat down beside her. "I hope you booked this place for the night, 'cause this is going to take some explaining."