Flashing #8: Dieselpunk

Today’s story is a thematic follow-up to yesterday’s steampunk story. Once I realized Osama Tezuka’s Astro Boy is dieselpunk the structure and narrative of today’s story seemed obvious. I tried to pay homage to Tekuza’s Astro Boy story “The Hot Dog Corps” by way of Naoki Urasawa. Urasawa is currently revisioning Tekuza’s “The World’s Strongest Robot” with modern themes, casting robots as weapons of mass destruction and pitting them against humans and other robots. I tried to capture some of those themes and set it in a World War II story, exploring what Japan would use in lieu of kamikaze pilots if they had robots at their disposal. I had fun with the story that came out, and I once again have to reiterate my plans to revisit this week’s stories at a later date. Here’s where it stands for now. I hope you enjoy it.

If you want to read previous Flashing stories just go to this link.
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1944: Nakajima Perot (987 words)

Kōki Hirota places his scotch on the table and wipes his brow. He locks his hands together in an effort to stop them from shaking. His eyes are sunken into deep, black wells. His voice sounds as if it’s coming from somewhere else. “Japan is in trouble.” 

Date Okimune sits in silence. He is surrounded by metal and schematics and books. His workshop smells of fuel; his clothes are rumpled and dirty. He drinks his sake while slowly tapping his fingers on a table, knowing what is coming and dreading the answer he has to give.

“Our armies are decimated. The Americans, the Chinese, and their allies are crushing us. Our warships are dwindling. Our planes are helpless. And our robots…our robots are useless.”

Date Okimune cautiously interjects, “Our robots have been instrumental in holding back the American robots and we still have thousands at our disposal.”

“Robots fighting robots, that’s no way to win a war.”

“That is all they can do.”

“Yes. That’s all they can do.” Both men stare at each other. The silence occupies the room with them. It is everywhere, reminding them of honor and impossibilities. “Ten years ago you submitted a proposal to the Black Dragon Society for a project you called the Hot Dog Corps. Robots with the minds of humans. Robots that could wage war against humans. Robots that can kill humans.”

Date Okimune knows his protests are futile. “Kōki Hirota, the Hot Dog Corps were rejected by your society for all of the right reasons. The robot laws exist so that a single nation cannot become too powerful. If we were to implement the program, all of the nations of the world will be against us, including our allies.”

“Date Okimune, I fear that without the Hot Dog Corps, Japan will cease to exist. What good are allies if we are no longer a nation?”

Date Okimune finishes his sake and his servant brings him another. He stares at his cup, curses his foresight, and agrees to restart a program that goes against everything he now believes in.
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Nakajima Perot plays poker with several fellow warriors. They were called to Sendai two weeks ago, pulled away from the front lines, and they’ve yet to get a single order. They watched American movies, listened to American music, and drank American spirits. The experience, so far, has felt like nothing but defeat. 

“Nakajima Perot?” A young nurse holding a clipboard calls into the room.

“I am Nakajima Perot.”

“Will you please come with me,” the nurse says while scribbling on her clipboard, “Date Okimune will see you now.”

Perot follows the nurse down a sterile hallway. The walls and floors are seamless; the ceiling is peppered with lifeless florescent lights. They reach a dead end with no distinguishable features except for a black box attached to the wall. The nurse puts her hand against the box and the wall separates, exposing a lab stocked with nothing but a bed, some surgical tools, and the lifeless husk of giant war robot. Several men stand in the center of the room, eager to meet their first patient.

“Nakajima Perot,” Date Okimune says while bowing. “It is time for you to serve Japan.”

Date Okimune describes the procedure that is about to take place. He tells him how Perot’s mind will be transplanted into the robot. How he’ll become an unstoppable machine, capable of destroying entire warships. Perot hardly hears any of this. 

He doesn’t even notice the needle breaking his skin. Within moments he is asleep.

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Perot sees the ceiling. He tries to move but his body doesn’t respond. He tries to speak but nothing comes out. He hears talking in the distance but has no idea who is speaking. He can’t move his eyes. He can’t turn his head. Date Okimune leans over him.

“You’re online. Good. It’ll take some time to get used to your new body but in a couple of days you should gain full control of your systems. How do you feel?”

Perot struggles with the question. He’s not breathing. Breathing: the most basic function of the human body, the function that we trust our bodies to do. He feels as if he’s suffocating. His mind races with panic but his body doesn’t respond. It just lies there. He can’t close his eyes. He can’t drown out the noise. All he can do is pretend this is all a nightmare.
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The 23 members of the Hot Dog Corps fly over Leyte Gulf. Their targets are less than a mile away; Perot veers towards the heavy cruiser Australia and increases the power to his engines. The Royal Australian Navy dispatches robots and fighter jets. Perot opens his gun turrets and missile ports and engages his enemy, causing metal and flesh to fall into the waters below. The fighter jets scramble; the pilots caught off guard by the robot’s vicious attack. The Australian robots don’t stand a chance. They’re outdated, their maneuvers are preprogrammed and they’re slow to adapt. Within seconds Perot is on the deck of the Australia. The crew members run away from the rampaging robot, some of them dive into the icy waters of Leyte Gulf. 

Perot pauses. He closes his gun turrets. He disengages his missiles. He looks to a cowering midshipman and lowers his arms. “My name is Nakajima Perot. Three generations ago my great-great-grandfather, a feared and honorable samurai, turned his back on the Date clan and went to Edo in order to seek a new life in what was promised to be a technological utopia. I thought about this while I was flying over here. I wondered if any of us can ever really escape who we are.”

The midshipman doesn’t respond. 

“I don’t think we can escape. I am sorry.”

Nakajima Perot explodes, taking the Australia, the midshipmen, and the rest of the crew with him down to the ocean floor.

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