Disclaimer: Shirow Masamune as always, is a genius, and the intellectual owner of the GITS series. Bandai and Production IG own rights to the anime, and Kodansha/VIZ own Manga rights. Again, I fall short. I use the characterizations of his creations to tell mostly unique stories for the sheer joy of writing. I earn no monetary or material gain from these stories, thus they qualify as true fanfics. Enjoy.

Chapter 11:

Hopefully the last set of dreadful entries have put any reader off and I no longer have to issue these threats. However, if you are still foolishly snooping through my private journals, may God show mercy on your ghost.

Entry 101:

Note to Self: "Ishikawa is no longer allowed to be granted vacation…PERIOD."

Ishikawa comes into my office last week and tells me he needs a couple of days off. I don't respond because obviously I don't want to acknowledge the words coming out of his mouth. After a few minutes, he sighs. Are you diving or are you ignoring me? Ah well, can't hide forever. I ask him if he's talked to Aramaki and am told that Aramaki said I'd have to make the decision. Oh joy, I can't fuss about anything if I made the decision. So I tell him that he had off a couple of months ago. I'll paraphrase what he said because despite my best watchdogs, someday this is going to end up on a blog and I cringe at what the kiddies will be telling their parents. He informs me in very virulent words that our disbanding and his subsequent hiding from the authorities, arrest and torture did not constitute a vacation. Since I had my head blown off and still enjoyed the time away from work, I thought I had a semi-valid point; so I argued. I told him that he'd been looking for a reason to renovate his Pachinko Palace and this gave him a federally funded excuse. He growled about necessity being the mother of invention and told me he needed "one damned week away from this place." Before I could make a conditional agreement, he adds that he'll be on net-silence for the duration. Well, that clinches it. I say 'hell fucking no', but my mouth actually forms the words "Okay, starting Saturday. Report back the following Saturday, 5am." I am going to have to find the glitch in my voice box program, but there it is, his permission lying on the table between us. He tucks his hands in his pockets, looks down at the carpet, says "Thanks" real nice so I can't take those damned words back, and leaves.

I should probably preface this very long docudrama by stating that Ishikawa is our IT Guru. I can do most of it, but Ishikawa can do some things even I have been unable to master. The British have a saying that if the dress rehearsal goes well, opening night is jinxed. This cyborg has a saying that if there are no computer issues the week before Ishikawa goes on vacation, Major Kusanagi should cancel all plans for the next seven days. Saturday was great. I ran some errands, did some work around the house, even had a friend over. We were sitting on the couch watching a show and getting in the mood to play Nintendo when a message came in from one of the upper level droids. I asked about the problem and was informed that the ballistics calibration array had ceased to function. I told the droid to examine all options and get back with me. My mood sufficiently killed, I packed it up and called it a night. I was in my regen chamber around 4am when the droid got back with me.

Before I go further, it always helps if I explain what things are. There are two basic types of weapons used in this job. Those that kill and those that don't. Ha ha. Seriously. There are the Stand Alone type weapons such as the gun I shoot. It is not interfaced with my systems in any way and I am just that damned good on the range. Then there are the Complex, or interface, type of weapons. The Ballistics Calibration Array is the computer system that keeps the Complex weapons calibrated so that when they are used, they perform properly. These weapons range from the AI Assist sniper rifle Saitou uses to the VR gatling guns on the front of the choppers. The BCA runs continuously because we rarely get advance notice of an upcoming need for firepower. If the BCA is down for any length of time, the calibration on one of these pieces of armament could shift and if needed, the weapon would be more dangerous than not using one at all.

Given that, we cannot operate without the BCA. The 4am phone call got me out of my unit long enough to break a window and pace the patio a couple of times. The droid, following protocol, contacted the IT department that maintains the military's systems. The ubersmart asshole there informed her that the BCA was not on the sanctioned list of systems or applications so the IT department would not do anything about the issue. So I called IT at 4:15am and we had a little chat. I informed them that there were seven divisions in the military that used this system and that all seven were responsible for the safety of the people who inhabit the land that this government happens to control. I informed the little weasel that his ability to sleep peacefully in his bed rests upon these units functioning properly. Voice quaking in a little bit of fear, either from me or the idea of living life in terror, he informs me that he'll let dayshift know about the issue so that they can fix it, he doesn't have the authority. Resigned and still half charged, I agree to the delay and hang up the phone. Angrily, I stalked to the window and put my hand through it. I then walked around outside for a while and finally went back to bed.

Entry 102:

Someone once asked me if I had been born a bitch or if I had been turned into one during the cyberization process. I can guarantee that whatever attitude I currently have, it has only been enhanced by becoming a cyborg. That means I've always been difficult. Waking up with a fully restored body is nice. It allows me to put energy to important things like getting the BCA back up and running. Since I cannot depend on IT and Ishikawa is on vacation…have I made a note to myself that he's no longer allowed vacation…I see that I have, good. I walked into the building and was greeted by a plethora of alarmed droids, it was Sunday afterall. After reassuring them that there was not a state of emergency, I explained that I was here to work on the BCA and they let me go about my business.

I examined the system and learned that one of the system servers had failed. A quick diagnostic exam revealed that the company that furnished the unit failed to put in any kind of redundancy system. Nothing shortens my fuse like incompetence and this system is a high criticality unit, which means that it's extremely important that we keep it running. There is no duplicate image drive, recovery disks or boot drives. So, before I do anything else, I'm going to have to replace the drive in the server. Armed with a small Philips, I laid down on the floor and attacked the perpetrator of my malcontent. After getting the case off of the unit and the metal housing off of the drive, I pulled out a SATA III drive that had to be produced…oh wait, there's a production stamp right on it. Yes, it was produced in 2019. Perfect. I should be able to find one of these in any reliable e-scrap yard in China. However, I need one that works. Standing up and dusting off the residue left by Togusa's half-assed cleaning duty, I now face the most terrifying task of my life…finding an authorized spend card.

The Modern Military is full of money saving requirements. A couple of years ago some pencil pushing weasel, probably related to the one I spoke with last night, made a decision that personnel had to use approved spend cards. This meant that each approved individual needed to apply for a special card. Since we go by assumed names, Section 9 was ineligible for individual cards so we were issued generic spend cards. Our group has three. When I checked with the droids, I discovered that Ishikawa forgot to turn his in last week so that one was out of commission. Bouma had checked one out before being deployed into the field with Pazu. The third one was locked in Togusa's desk and he was offline when I tried to contact him. Irritated beyond last night, I decide to use my own personal card and go shopping. Commandeering a single person copter, I filed a flight plan and left Aramaki a message telling him what was going on.

I'm half-way to Hong Kong's Retrofit Market when Aramaki checks his message and calls me. I can tell he's trying to be diplomatic, but I'm not in the mood. I know I'm supposed to have a damned spend card, but I'm almost to the Market and I'm not about to turn around and go back to base. He approves the personal account reimbursement based on emergency protocol and tells me to keep a low profile. I look down at myself and chuckle. Really? I couldn't keep a low profile if I dressed in sweats, I've tried. I have the body-style of the most popular high-class sexroid on the market. The sexroids that have my body are procured for the most elite and might be showcased in a private gathering but would not be shared and would never be allowed out into the public. I can tell a lot about the people around me by their reactions to my body. Because of the clandestine manner of what I represent to some, some will not acknowledge my existence and none will approach to ask me who I belong to. So, Aramaki's warning is about as effective as pissing in the ocean and he know this.

Hong Kong's Retrofit Market reminds me of the 1980's Hollywood idea of a post-apocalypse world. Hawkers have booths, or shops, along the alleys with outdated components, software, body parts, batteries… It's a complete chaotic hodgepodge of materials that are 90 junk, unless you know what you're looking for. I happen to know what I'm looking for, but I also know that if I'm not careful, I will pay far more than the drive is worth. I spotted a vendor that looked reliable and ran a spot check. Max's Mini Mark came back with a clean bill of health and a good recommendation from several sources. I took my time loitering in the general area, going into shop after shop and browsing before finally reaching Max's. I saw his eyes light up as I started towards the door and at the last minute, I hesitated and feinted a decision to move on. The light in his eyes dimmed and I inwardly smiled before nodding my head once and opening the door. Many of the shops have the rancid smell of burned electronics, reminiscent of the early 2000's when China's e-component recycling was being performed by husbands and wives burning plastic off of wires in pot-stoves located in front of houses while junk mongers crushed fluorescent bulbs releasing lead and mercury, to get the precious metals out of the insides. However, Max's was clean, a good indication that Max dealt in reliable parts. I walked into the shop and picked up random items, looking at them as if I knew nothing about electronics.

It didn't take too long for Max to come around the counter and engage in conversation. His belly bounced as he wedged it in between two moderately spaced shelves and the thinning hair on top was more proof that he had very little in the way of mechanical parts. He knew my body style for what it was and looked around carefully for my owner. Not seeing any possessive person staring at me, he smiled widely and asked me what I needed. I told him I was doing a little window shopping while my master was in a meeting. He moved even closer and asked me if I belonged to Malachai. I quickly dove through my resources and found that Malachai was a revolutionary leader based out of Hong Kong who fought for immigrant rights…Bingo! Hoping that I wasn't walking into a trap, I gently nodded. Max then told me that the next time I had Malachai in bed to tell him that Max Verdichi would provide whatever support needed to aid his efforts. Well, well, well. That was good information. After nodding again, I turned and looked at a shelf against the wall. Max asked me what I was looking for and I told him there was nothing in particular. Suddenly I picked up a box and asked him what it was. He told me that it was an old style disk drive. I asked him what it was used for and he told me that it was used to store data, much like our networks do. I smiled at him and asked him if it worked. He puffed up and with a note of pride informed me that this particular drive had never been used. With wonder, I looked at it and asked him how he knew it worked if it had never been used. Taking it from me, he walked behind the counter and plugged it into a testing device. It registered as holding 10 TB of data and all sectors were good. I looked at him and he sighed before telling me that this means it was in working order. I shook my head with confusion in my eyes and asked him how much it would cost. He grinned and I could see the figure increasing in my head. Suddenly he unplugged it and handed it to me. He said he'd give it to me for free if I would remember what he asked me to do earlier. I agreed that I would tell Malachai what he said, when I was in bed with him. It was an easy promise, the only intercourse the two of us are likely to have is a bullet from my gun fucking his head very nicely. I walked out of the shop one SATA III in hand and two hot tips already being transmitted to Batou, the only one that would answer my messages.

Entry 103:

Togusa and Batou have been investigating the tips I received yesterday and Batou looked up and glared at me, as much as his emotionless orbs can, as I walked by on my way to the server room…again. "Could you have given us a target that was any more annoying than Max the Junk Manager?" That one quote made my day. Smiling under my breath, I crawled back into my lair. The SATA III was easy to install once I disengaged the firewalls and attack programs the other parts of the server managed. It was as simple as unplugging a jumper and two cables, removing the old drive and repeating in reverse to install the new drive. But that was only a shadow ghost, giving me a false hope that everything would be finished quickly. The software for the drive was missing and an exhaustive search of the net did not yield a viable copy of the program. Cussing louder than under my breath, I headed back out around lunch time to grab a compatible software version from another facility. Bringing back fast food tacos for the human and some nanobites for those of us who cannot ingest cholesterol, I leaned over Batou's chair and watched him work while finishing up the cyborg version of a carrot and cream cheese bagel. They were making progress so I wished them luck and headed back to the control room with an old cd-rom disk to install in the antiquated piece of shit that keeps our equipment in top notch working order. Two hours later, I had to do a bit more research to learn that this 10TB drive could only be formatted to 500GB. WTF? Humored by the simplicity of this software from the stone age, I set the drive to format and left to check on the boys.

I guess the two of them can only do so much research before they have to take a break because when I walked in, they were playing ping pong over the androids' heads. The girls were ignoring their crazy schemes and searching. Suddenly one stopped and spoke aloud. "Malachai is the leader of a terrorist organization called Red Martyrs." All hell broke loose then, the clicking moving up in speed and volume while Batou and Togusa grabbed empty terminals and also went to work. Starting a little dive of my own, I just turned around and went back to work. The drive wasn't finished formatting yet so I got online and talked to an old friend of mine for a while. He had some very interesting things to say and if he wasn't such an idealistic SOB, I would probably take everything at face value. However, he is a sanctimonious shit so I spend half the time arguing with him. Tonight he pointed out that our arguing was like a very odd sense of foreplay and I had to remind him that I didn't date college kids or ideological librarians.

Entry 104:

I finally got the OS loaded and had to wait on the company that designed this unit to open at 9am. I don't understand how in our high-tech world a company that builds such critical systems cannot have a damned 24-hour support line. Hell, how about an internet site that has more than "Call Tech Support between 9am and 4pm at blah..blah...blah…." Given that, I decided to hit the apartment long enough to do a regen. After I reported my findings to Batou who scowled and told me I was being a show-off again, I called it a night. This morning, sporting donuts for the overworked slaves and a more chipper attitude (although Ishikawa can never take another day off again), I sat down behind my desk and picked up the phone at 9:07. Of course, the normal techs don't arrive until 10 so I agreed to call back and walked down the hall to check on the "slaves." Togusa was snoring loudly on the lounge couch. He probably doesn't normally snore, but his head was cocked at such an angle that his windpipe was somewhat constricted. Batou grumbled under his breath, two empty cans of beer lying sideways on the floor near his feet and he's absently reaching for one sitting on the table while he scrolled through chat channels. I laughed at his absentminded grope and put a donut down where his fingers were. He touched the sticky substance and pulled his hand back quickly, muttering under his breath. When he leaned away from the screen, he finally saw me out of the corner of his eye. He said some not choice words about my lack of manners but sat back long enough for us to discuss the case. He said leads were illusive at best and that he was beginning to believe I'd made all this shit up. I told him to stuff it and stood to leave. We both knew this was a way to burn off steam and neither of us took it personal. I told him I was headed back to work on the BCA and he nodded before going back to his research. Now I'm going to feel guilty if I don't write this, but Batou and Togusa haven't been pulling all-nighters merely to search for Malachai. They're running simulations and search grids with the new recruits too. The recruits have been going through rigorous training which has included three solid days of net dives and protected back hacking. It seems harsh, but they are new and we don't know their limits. Enough said on that subject.

I finally got someone at Tech Support at 10:15 only to find that the version of the OS I loaded is not compatible with the program. There aren't words to explain my ire. Picking up a piece of paper, I absentmindedly played while I listened to this guy tell me he can send the software next day. After much persuasion, I managed to talk him into loading the godforsaken program onto the net. I finally got the correct version of the OS loaded and the program loaded only to learn that the instructions to load the drivers weren't compatible with the version of software I loaded. Looking at the pile of cranes littering the desk, I waited for Tech Support to answer the phone only to find out after a ten minute hold that the guy who was helping me this morning left at 3 to go to the dentist. In a fit of anger, I flung winged paper off the desk with one foul swoop of my hand. Of course, Aramaki would HAVE to walk in just at that moment and inform me that the PM needs a security detail and that I'd been volunteered. I glared and pointed at the software on my desk and his face softened. Dammit I hate it when his face softens. We've spent too many years together, he and I. The PM is just the type of domineering woman that turns his gears and I'm just the type of woman who likes to see my friend finally happy. He tells me that I can stay if I'm needed but I have to admit that I can't get any further with the BCA until the Tech Support guy gets back in the morning. Face tightening in a semblance of a grin, he lightly places a hand on my arm and informs me it's formal dress. All-in-all, dinner wasn't too bad. I hope this means my luck is turning around.

Chapter 105:

Success! Sort of. Boy what a dismal thing to say after five days of computer hell. The drivers work. The machine is running. The guy at Technical Support and I have come to an agreement that we never want to work together again. We have also come to an agreement that the IT person who normally takes care of this plant cough Ishikawa cough needs to never be allowed to take another vacation day. I reviewed the reports that a punch drunk Togusa and a physically taxed Batou left before heading to their respective homes. Again, the two that Batou recommended made it through the worst of the testing. Making a couple of notations that they need to be tested again in the field, I put the report back on his desk and headed home. It's been a long week and there's one more official day to go.

Chapter 106:

I've made a decision. I'm going to lease my apartment out and move into Section 9. There is no reason for me to pay rent on that place when I spent all my time here dealing with technical issues. How does Ishikawa do it? Oh, don't even think about his name Motoko. It'll just piss you off even more…too late! How hard is it for one stupid machine to stay running for two damned days? It's Friday. Have I gotten to do any of my job? Ah, no. It's all been Ishikawa's job. I'd have Aramaki give him a raise, but everyone is aware that he continues to come in because it's got greater odds than his Pachinko games. He's always looking for the pattern, probably why he's so good at computers. He can almost see the problems before they occur. In fact, he probably has a second and third contingency plan for the BCA. Or maybe I'm just that lucky when it comes to his vacations, soon to be lack-thereof.

Anyways, enough grumbling aside. It turned out to be a relay switch this time. I'm liking our newest addition to the team more and more each day. Proto came up from the bowels of Tachikoma Domain to help me troubleshoot the problem. Five minutes later, he was requesting an android to get a replacement relay and he had us back up and running by lunch. I highly approve of Aramaki's latest trial. It'll be interesting to see how GenTech develops this product. Since we're all owned by the government and our bodies are all used to improve the parent MegaTech's products, I'm sure the free GenTech R&D they are getting through Proto will be used in my next upgrade, if I can wait that long. I sent Proto back to the bowels of Techikoma hell with a thanks and a note hastily jotted in Aramaki's file that this one was a good choice for the team.

Chapter 107:

Ishikawa's back. 5am I quit being the computer tech and put back on my normal clothes, so to speak. I'm off today and I spent it lounging in my home and enjoying the view. Ishikawa left four messages, two using language unbecoming a lady, and one informed me that I was "never to touch his precious terminals again, upon pain of death." Since for the last few days I've been feeling rather generous towards the idea of torturing him past the pain of death, I decided to ignore that message until such a time that I can be a little more rational in my response. Filing it under the "never open this file" folder, I decided to take a small walk. Batou called in to tell me that our target showed up floating in the Wong Chuk Hang Nullah. He went on to inform me that Malachai's death was due to gang related activities. Before I could open my mouth, he chuckled and said they were already working on getting the information on the rival gang but suspected that the Malachai angle was not the direction we needed to go. I agreed and told him I'd be back first thing in the morning to get started again.

Chapter 108:

Our silver ghost showed up unexpectedly yesterday. It started as a routine day, which is so unusual as to be an 'unroutine' day. We were doing training when the Chief called us in on an emergency. Apparently the terrorist we've been looking for, Kuze, showed up on the inner city surveillance. However, before we could apprehend him, he disappeared. He showed up several hours later at the War Dead Memorial and then disappeared again. As we were scrambling to find him, he showed up on the top of the Kyushu Radio Tower. In front of millions of viewers, the two lines of people, all attesting to be the Individual 11 group, suddenly rushed forward and cut each other's heads off. We were in such a state of shock that it took a few minutes to realize the details. First, there were 12 people on the roof. Second, Kuze didn't die. He killed his "partner" and jumped over the railing. There was no trace of him by the time we arrived but we did learn that he wasn't using a standard issue face.

There are things about being a cyborg that I don't think about until I see them through the eyes of Togusa. Togusa to me is much like a child is to a parent. Oh, I don't see him as a child. However, I've been told that parents get a glimpse into a different type of world when they have children. Children will notice things that have become rhetoric to an adult. Then they'll point them out in such a way that the parent cannot help but notice how very different something looks through inexperienced eyes. Take the concept of face sculpturing. Sure, I use a standard design. Okay, it's not the NORMAL standard design, but the only custom things on me are all on the inside. My face is the same face on thousands of other mechanical bodies. The design I've chosen may keep me from passing myself on the street very often, but it does happen. I'm resigned to this factory standard face but there are those out there who need to be the individuals they were before cyberization. Apparently Kuze is one of those. Most of them choose a sculpted face because they either feel that they need to retain part of who they were originally or they need others to see them as something more than a cyborg. Despite that, the entire concept of a sculptured face can be macabre to a person who has never experienced the indifference of being only one of a certain model.

After Togusa's startled exclamation of "what the hell is a face sculptor?" Batou's explanation and Togusa's subsequent explanation of disgust, I had one of those "parent moments." I was suddenly able to see how disturbing the thought of a face being removed and another transplanted could be. I have to give it to our resident carbon based life form…he handled the investigation well. Although we were unable to get our information on Kuze, we were able to help a fellow teammate. As disturbing as the whole face sculpture issue is to Togusa, the idea of a person cloning another because the obsession is so great he or she wants to become that person is even more disturbing. I might not sleep for a week. I frankly don't understand how Pazu can live with the prospect of a copycat in the future and considering the situation surrounding how we met and how he was recruited for the team, that future may be closer to the present than any of us want to admit.

Chapter 109:

This must be my year to travel. Earlier in the year, before all of the Laughing Man witch hunt happened, I went to England. Then there was the trip to Hong Kong a few weeks ago. Now I'm being sent to Taiwan. It's one of the main countries the refugees came from and there is a contact who is willing to tell me what he knows…in person of course. Oh well, a short trip to Asia's Sin City won't hurt. Aramaki, as always, told me to keep a low profile and not cause any waves. I told him it was going to be a simple in/out deal. I spend two days with the reporter then I come back and give a formal report. How complicated can it be?

Chapter 110:

Who was it that said "If you want to make God laugh, tell Him your plans."? Ah yes, the notorious Woody Allen. I guess the same thing is true of me trying to stay out of trouble. I'll have to tell Aramaki that I'll need to find another hotel if I go back to Taiwan. He sends me to one of the child prostitution and drug capitals of the world and thinks I can keep myself out of trouble? The question becomes whether it was assumed trouble or actual trouble. I'm not too worried about the Taiwan mafia, they won't bother me again. It's the android behind the counter at the hotel that has me concerned. What was I supposed to do? Let the kid rough it unprotected on the street? He has no more protective instincts than Batou has a sense of humor. In fact, like Batou, he thinks he's all that when he's NOT. Oh well, I washed my hands of it when I stepped on the plane. I hope the kid knows what he's doing and straightens out his act. There's a future for him if he does. If he doesn't I'm sure he'll find his way into a box.

A/N:

Yes, yes. For those of you who faithfully keep up with my works (versus just this story), I have been dallying in other genres. I've thoroughly enjoyed stepping out, and will continue to do so. But I always faithfully come back to Shirow Masamune. By the time you read this, I will have finally gotten to see 2nd Gig, but probably not Solid State yet so please do not spoil that for me. Please do not give my muse any more reason to quit fueling these stories than it already has. It is hard enough to convince it that the first two movies didn't happen so that I can continue to write these blurbs. Eventually I'll lose that argument and then I'll be forced to move away from the GITS series and focus solely on Appleseed, which isn't as meaty, or fun. Thank you for continuing to read this bizarre stream of cyborg consciousness. I appreciate all the readers! Plus, occasionally someone zings me a review that makes me smile, laugh or shake my head in resignation. Thank you to all of you who read and all of you who take that extra step and review. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Until next time -TK