Paradigm Shift

Chapter 3

During the day, Tokyo looked as it always has, but at night, neon lights splayed across the puddles of black water: The city was full of color and vibrance when the sky was dark and not a single star in the sky said hello.

Taylor spent multiple nights in Tokyo, moving from hotel to hotel and never paying, and after his first week, he was blacklisted from every place he could find. After he was thrown out of the last hotel he hit up, a woman walking up with a clear, plastic umbrella stared at him excitingly. However, she moved on with many second glances at Taylor sitting solemnly alone on the wet pavement.

Tall, black marbled buildings towered high in the sky, and brilliant lights of many different colors splayed across the tainted glass in bright blues, deep greens and reds. Water slicked his hair as Taylor wandered the streets of neomodern Tokyo; its rough edges and indents clearly outlined by distinct shadows. Graphic images of models walked across the sky in a loop—the images being very grainy with each pixel following the other.

At one fancy restaurant, many Japanese women and men (mostly women in beautiful dresses matching the shapes of the buildings with clear plastic rain coats on) sat in metal chairs near lanterns to keep them warm. It was a small drizzle—enough to dampen everything and glisten the pavement—but it sent shivers down Taylor's spine. He sat down in a chair to warm himself by the lantern, but he quickly noticed how poorly he fit in: everyone wore appropriate attire except him. Everyone was staring at him through the backs of their heads. . .

A group of ladies at one table all got up in sync quite robotically; their hooped skirts stiffly bouncing as they walked. The female androids precariously carried their translucent umbrellas as they stomped down the street with unnaturally straight backs. And after the small group of androids left, everyone seemed to suddenly be finished with their food. Small, distinct tapping of rubber boots carefully touching the puddles of water delicately echoed off the plastic walls along with the soft lull of the sprinkling rain.

—-

The streets of Tokyo were still slick with water from last nights rainfall, and as Taylor intensely strode down the sidewalk, his boots splashed in the puddles with harsh slapping sounds of water against pavement.

"The library has to have information on who exactly this Watson is."

In the middle of the plaza, a tall building, stories high of glass windows for walls and two protruding clear elevators, meticulously designed, stood precariously still—the Meiji University library or Liberty tower. Inside, automated carts whisked around pristine books as if they hadn't been used in forever, tall shelves of books lined the back wall, and a computer lab with university students quietly sipping their coffee and tapping on their keyboards, typing away. Over the quiet clicking of keys and the occasional cough or grunt from a student, Taylor's footsteps on the grey concrete floor echoed against the big ceiling. Spiderwebbing above his head, pathways, or hallways of sorts tangled themselves in intricate patterns covered in glass windows that let pale blue light streaming in. Taylor strolled to the computer lab.

He opened the search bar, clicking and clacking against the keyboard, and found the real Watson he was looking for was an AI robot.

Artemis Watson—an artificial intelligent robot—named after the founder Thomas Watson. . .Watson is a QA technology that seeks to understand the question and returns an answer in great detail. . .Watson was used in the Martian civil war for war plans. . .The Martian government has accused Japan for stealing military technology and have instigated a war over this. . .however, Watson hasn't been seen since the assassination of Charlie Sabot. . .

"Where can I find Thomas Watson?" Taylor thought out loud, searching the web. He worked at the Japan Aerospace Exploration Agency or JAXA for short.

—-

It was another tall, glass building with advanced technology geared for the future—one being Watson itself. However, when Taylor walked up inquiring about Thomas Watson, he was returned with startling laughter.

"Sir, you realize Thomas Watson died over a hundred years ago." The woman he approached in a lab coat laughed at his ridiculous question. But, after she calmed herself, she suggested another man, "you mean his great grandson, right? He works here, has been his entire life practically. I can take you to him if you like."

Taylor graciously nodded his head, "yes, please."

The young lady took him through a big warehouse with parts of rockets littering the place, past desks with people furiously working, and through a claustrophobic aisle of metal shelves filled with parts. At the end of the aisle, there was a desk with a middle aged man hunching over his work.

"Dr. Connor, where is Dr. Peter Watson?"

The man swiveled his chair, "don't you know? He's getting prepared for today's launch."

—

In a last ditch effort, Taylor decided to threatened a poor engineer until she gave in and added him to the team before launch. He found her as he was walking down the aisle, pressed a butter knife from the restaurant to her throat, and demanded her to give him entrance onto Dr. Watson's flight.

"Okay okay," she pleaded. The poor lady started to shake uncontrollably from stress.

"Shh. . ." Taylor soothed her, "all I want is to be on that flight so I can meet with Dr. Watson. Okay?" His grip tightened around her as she tried to squirm.

"Okay, alright, I'll talk to her—I'll talk to the captain."

Once Taylor hid in a cryotank, he was shipped to the launch site, and a few hours later, was stuck in medbay until after the rocket left earth's atmosphere. He asked to be heavily sedated during launch for the pain, so the first thing he saw after the warehouse was a tall brunette with piercing green eyes.