TL Note : https://wikizilla.org/wiki/Kamacuras
Kamacuras
May 1999 – New York, USA
Gordon Castle, Investment Banker (at the time)
Under the heavy, overcast sky, the manacorn (Note 1) stubbornly maintains its lush, green leaves, undaunted by the ever-decreasing sunlight.
The aftershocks of the Great Wall Operation have also started to subside a bit. If nothing else happens, the situation of last year’s famine deaths might be avoided.
Gordon Castle, the supervisor of Plantation 27 in the Brazilian Autonomous Region,is a man with a dark complexion, a tan face, and a long, dark beard.
His deeply tanned skin, the deep wrinkles carved into his face, and his gnarled, large hands symbolize the half-century he has lived in harmony with the soil. Standing up straight, he issues instructions to his subordinate workers and drone teams in a well-carrying voice, without using a loudspeaker. At 83 years old, he seems much younger. But what’s even more surprising is that this man, who seems like a true-blooded farmer, was actually a financial trader on Wall Street in New York…up until that day, the day that shook the very foundations of our world.
I was born in a typical small town in the American South. I doubt there are any others left who remember the name. My old man was a former non-commissioned officer in the army. He was proud of rampaging around with an M60 in Vietnam, and the Silver Star he received there was his prized possession. After returning, he took over the family farm and became a corn field farmer.
I had three older brothers, but I was the only one who didn’t take after my old man and was physically weak. I would get picked on by the neighborhood brats and run home crying, only to get beaten up again by my old man or my brothers. I absolutely had to get out of that savage town. It’s not like I could take over the farm anyway – even if they told me to, I would have flat-out refused back then. The only other options were to become an auto mechanic or a hired hand at some other ranch or farm. I had no desire for a future like that. …Looking back now, it was such a happy time. That was about the extent of my worries for the future.
Luckily, I had a bit of talent for mathematics – maybe my old man’s fists did some good in a weird way. Back then, there weren’t things like career determination programs using geometrical arithmetic like nowadays, but even a country boy from the South with a bit of brains and ambition could get a scholarship to attend a reasonably prestigious university.
I came across economics because the intersection of numbers, which I already liked, and this reality just clicked for me. Why was it that my old man’s canned corn didn’t sell for $1 at Walmart like the price tag, but for $5? Demand and supply, comparative advantage…there was a sense of warped superiority, I suppose. “Hey old man, your sweat in the cornfield can be quantified in economics, you know?”
Back then, getting a job on Wall Street was seen as the same as being successful in life. If you became a government employee, you’d be lucky to make around $30,000. But on Wall Street, the starting salary was over $70,000, plus an equally large or even bigger bonus.
It wasn’t just us economics students who wanted to work on Wall Street. Even people who studied math, physics, or medicine were flocking there. They were called “quants” – financial engineers. Their brilliant minds, which could have been used to design rockets or unravel the mysteries of the universe, were instead used to create incomprehensible financial products that made huge profits. Derivatives, options, swaps – even 50 years ago, most people didn’t fully understand them. It was a crazy time.
Now, those brilliant minds are being used to create weapons to save humanity, plan ways to feed the world, and build spaceships for our survival. But back then, they were wasted on “formulas” that could make people rich or bankrupt just by a 1% move in stock prices or currencies. It couldn’t have been God’s plan. God, may this lead me to a path of devotion. Grant me salvation and blessings.
(He makes the sign of the cross. Gordon has followed the teachings of Exif for the past 5 years.)
Sorry, I got sidetracked there. That’s an old man’s bad habit.
At the time, I was a trader at an investment bank in the World Financial Center, buying and selling securities in the US market. The huge trading floor had hundreds of employees, each with multiple screens in front of them, shouting orders non-stop while the markets were open. There was no time to even glance at the Hudson River flowing by.
Towards the end of the previous century, the US market was booming with prosperity centered around emerging information technology companies, and domestic stock prices had been continuously rising. I was able to skillfully ride that wave, moving $500 million to $600 million, sometimes over $1 billion daily, bringing appropriate profits to the company. Of course, the company rewarded my work with numbers too, so my annual income including bonuses exceeded $300,000, and from that year I was promoted to Vice President. I was the epitome of success. I believed that without a doubt, and believed this success would continue forever. The New Economy. I remember the auspicious theory being seriously discussed that the progress of IT technology would overcome the ups and downs of the economy, and an uninterrupted upward trend would persist from then on.
What do you think? If that hadn’t happened that year, would we have enjoyed eternal prosperity? Would a technological utopia where no one has to work have emerged? Sorry, I’m asking you about a time you haven’t even been born into.
That day, it was definitely the eve before the earnings report of an emerging mail-order company…what was it called again? I’ve forgotten. At any rate, it was one of the leading emerging IT-related stocks. The market was expected to be highly volatile the next day, so I was trying to cram any bit of information I could into my head by reading through the materials the analysts had gathered for me. Before I knew it, it was past midnight. Hey, hey, you’re going to face tomorrow with a sleep-deprived brain? I hurriedly got up to call for a limousine – back then if you left the office after 8pm, the company provided a limousine. It was cheaper than having employees take the subway and get exhausted. But I was stopped by a Mexican colleague. “Hey, Gordon, you live in Brooklyn, don’t you?” We bankers lived in high-rise condos downtown, overlooking the Hudson River and Manhattan as a status symbol…but I was born in Texas, and living crammed into a condo with nothing but colleagues felt too confining to me, so I commuted daily from a house in Brooklyn, going under the East River. “Yeah, but what?” “Then you better skip the limo. Seems there was some accident at the Battery Tunnel, and Richie, who left ahead of us, is stuck. The Brooklyn Bridge is backed up too.” “What?” I thought, give me a break. Guess I’ll have to take the subway home then. What? Didn’t I sense any danger? With transportation being disrupted like that all at once, shouldn’t I have suspected a connection? That’s the difference in perception from the post-kaiju generation. Something like that was completely unimaginable. To us, danger meant at most theft or a traffic accident…racking my brain, the 1993 World Trade Center bombing was about the worst I could imagine. “With transportation being disrupted here and there? Okay, maybe something’s down there, so I’ll skip going home today.” If I’d said that, I’d have been taken straight to the company doctor. “Gordon, you must be a little tired, huh?”
It was late, so the N train to New Lots Avenue was nearly empty. By the time the train went under the East River, I was engrossed in the company materials I had brought.
Suddenly sensing something, I looked up to see a muscular black man standing in front of me. I realized the only people left on the car were him and me. This wasn’t good. I must have boarded the wrong car.
Now, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea – I wasn’t a racist back then. We had African Americans and Asians in the company. But you know, when it’s just you and a ripped, tattooed guy on an empty car, anyone would feel their life was in danger. “Shit, what an idiot I am. Can’t be helped, it’s my fault. I’ll hand over every penny if I have to, I just want to get out of here in one piece.” That’s what I resolved. You think I’d want to die pathetically at the hands of a mere human when I’ve never even faced a kaiju? But you know, back then only a few civilians had military training, and it wasn’t that rare for some tough guy to get stabbed acting up in New York. I slowly raised my hands to stand up – no point rashly reaching for my wallet and sticking my hand in my pocket, who knows what he’d think – but before I could say “Hey, mister,” bam, it hit.
Suddenly the guy and I were both blown backwards. An incredible noise. I think I saw sparks in the darkness outside the window. It took me a while to realize the subway had emergency braked. “Hey mister, you alright?” The black guy held out his hand to help me up. Huh, I thought, maybe this guy’s actually decent.
“What happened?” “Dunno. Might’ve hit an elephant or something.”
His joke was actually closer to the truth than you’d think. What we hit was a lot worse than an elephant.
“Hey, what’s going on, what happened?” A cop making rounds came from the rear car. Potbellied like he ate 20 donuts a day.
“Seems there was something up ahead.” “Something? What something?” “Dunno.”
That idiotic exchange was cut off by a loud noise from up front. The sound of shattering glass, twisting metal, and some kind of…I don’t know what, but a shrill, never-heard-before screech. …And then human screams.
“H-Help me, help!”
A man in a red shirt came running from the front car. No, not red – he was drenched in blood. If my memory serves, his left arm was gone. Still young, a typical New York punk. He came running in, face contorted in horror, and lost his balance, falling over.
“Damn it, Mantis, huge big, shit, damn it, I’ve been killed, let me go, let me go!”
He seemed to be in a state of confusion. Apparently, he had seen something terrifying. He shook off our hands trying to help him and ran towards the back of the vehicle, holding the base of his left arm. What did he see? The answer soon became clear.
The subway’s connecting doors were ripped apart.
A giant sickle had pierced through.
That’s when it appeared.
A triangular head. Unusually large yellow eyes.
A metallic, high-pitched sound rang out, and the car shook.
A gigantic, unbelievably large mantis, about the size of a train car. It struggled to come towards us from the passageway. Blood dripped from its huge, 2-meter long sickle-like arms. Surely, everyone in the front of the car had been killed by this thing. I was paralyzed with fear and disbelief.
“What are you doing, shoot it, cop!”
“Alright, alright!”
The first to regain his senses was the black man, and as he told him, the policeman fired his gun. But we all knew that wouldn’t do much. Can a pistol bullet kill an elephant? Let alone this monstrous mantis. Sparks flew all over its body, and it seemed to hurt, for it started swinging its sickles wildly. But that was it. Angering this Kaiju only made it more dangerous. Oh, God. The handrails and other things in the car were slashed to pieces, swirling around. I think it had cut some of the electrical systems, for at that moment, all the car doors flew open.
“Hey, this way!” “Got it!” “H-hey, wait for me!”
The black man and the policeman were the first to jump out. I followed. No way was I going to be trapped in here with that Kaiju. But I was mistaken. Those two were playing the part of “heroes”.
Just as we jumped out, the Kaiju, having forced its way through the passageway with its lower body, entered the car. The policeman fired at it again.
“Sh-Shut up, you’ll get us dead!”
I shouted without thinking, and the black man yelled back at me.
“You’re the idiot! What if it went to the next car?”
“Right! Kaiju! This way, hey!”
Oh, man, seriously? Yes, they were using us as bait to lure the Kaiju out of the car. Well, I get the logic. Even if it’s a late-night train, there are still a lot of people on the one behind it. If that thing jumped in there, it would be a disaster. But since when did New York become a place where people play superhero? I can understand the policeman, but the other guy was a mugger who tried to rob me. Anyway, I had joined the ranks of these two “heroes”.
“Here it comes.” “Run!” “Don’t leave me behind!”
We ran for our lives. The dimly lit subway, but we could definitely feel the Kaiju chasing us. The flapping of wings. The metallic sounds. Maybe it didn’t like the dark, or maybe its eyes or something had been hit by the gunshots. We kept bumping into things in the station, but it didn’t catch up to us immediately. But that was just a matter of time. I was already out of breath. Of course I would be. I’m a Wall Street trader, not someone trained to sprint through the subway. I tripped and fell. “Hey, hang in there!” The black man helped me up right away, but at that moment, I felt something small run past my face. A rat. We weren’t the only ones fleeing the Kaiju. The subway’s rats were also escaping from it. And a group of them turned into a dark corner.
“Hey, there’s a side passage over there! Let’s try to lose it!”
I thought it was a great idea. We had played our part as bait, and now we just had to shake off the Kaiju.
But it was a complete failure. The side passage was wide enough for the mantis Kaiju to pass through, and it persistently chased after us. And at the end of it, there was only a storage warehouse. We were trapped. The two “heroes” desperately started closing the door and barricading it, but it was clear that wouldn’t hold for long.
Damn it, this is all my fault, isn’t it? Think, think. Why did you go to college? In Hollywood movies, that’s when the intellectual who was a burden comes up with a smart solution. Thinking, thinking, as the Kaiju’s sickle started pounding on the door, I shouted the line straight out of the movies.
“Listen up, I’ve got an idea!”
With a one, two, three, the police officer and the black man bravely opened the door. The Kaiju immediately charged in. There I was, in its line of sight. It lunged at me. I desperately evaded. Its scythe – right on target – sliced through that. The Kaiju faltered. Seizing the chance, I fled. Amidst the blinding white vision, I made it to the entrance, shutting and bolting the door from the outside. The three of us pushed against the door with all our might. Eventually, we realized the Kaiju had stopped moving.
READ THE ORIGINAL TRANSLATION AT gadgetizedpanda.net
—“What did you find?”
A steam pipe. New York City has a network of pipes running through the city for heating. Sometimes, explosions occur when aging pipes leak high-temperature steam, but…in this case, it was intentionally caused. The Kaiju had proudly used its scythe to punch a hole in the pipe carrying the scalding steam, and took the full brunt of it. Stunned, it got trapped, and was then cooked to a crisp by the superheated steam. Quite a clever tactic, if I may say so.
A magnificent happy ending. We fancied ourselves as heroes, heading back up to the surface. After all, the three of us had taken down that monstrosity.
As we walked, our true identities were also revealed. Knowing I was a Wall Street trader, the two were surprised. The police officer, John, said, “I always thought you bankers were just a bunch of crooks, manipulating numbers to steal from the poor.” I agreed wholeheartedly. Knowledge should be used by humans to sustain life, not to create incomprehensible bonds and hoodwink people.
One misunderstanding was cleared up. The black guy was an active duty U.S. Army Major. A member of the special forces who had seen actual combat in Somalia. A real hero. Apparently…while I was engrossed reading those materials, I had become a target for that punk. That guy who came running from the front car, you see. And then this guy…Daniel…he protected me and drove those guys off.
And so, we returned to the surface, back on Manhattan Island. The triumphant return of the heroes who saved New York.
—“And you became a witness to that.”
Yes… Indeed.
That such a thing could happen.
That such a being could exist.
Everything changed. The world was irrevocably transformed from that day on.
—“Are you alright? If recalling it is too painful, you don’t have to force yourself.”
No, let me speak. For one who has lost their family, words are about all I have left to leave behind. Leaning on Daniel’s shoulder, I emerged to the surface. Battery Park. A return from the depths of hell, that’s what I had thought. But what I saw there was the true hell on earth.
Manhattan was engulfed in flames. The skyscrapers of New York were ablaze.
I realized.
The Kaiju we had defeated…was likely just one out of countless, and barely even a child.
There, amidst the World Trade Center towers, it stood.
The parent of the Kaiju we had so desperately vanquished. Gigantic – so huge that the subway Kaiju seemed small in comparison – a monstrous, 60-meter tall praying mantis creature…no, a kaiju.
It swung its scythe. The west tower of the World Trade Center slowly, like it was sliding, crumbled to the ground. Immediately after, a thunderous roar, a shockwave, and a billowing cloud of dust and debris, surging like a tsunami… (Note 2)
Note 1: Manacorn is a genetically enhanced crop introduced through Bilusaludo’s technology, boasting high productivity, durability, and nutritional value. Since the 2020s, governments have been pushing for agricultural production rationalization and efficiency to address the deteriorating food production situation, and even more stringent control has been implemented since the establishment of the Global Union in 42 AD. Food production has been concentrated in plantations, with the agricultural products also undergoing advanced genetic modification, limited to just 17 varieties.
Note 2: The “Kaiju” first witnessed by humanity was later named Kamacuras. Emerging suddenly from the waters of Upper Bay southwest of Manhattan Island, Kamacuras rampaged northeastward. Within 72 hours of landfall, it was driven back near Boston by a laser-guided earth-penetrating “bunker buster” bomb from a US Air Force B-2 bomber, but not before completely destroying an area spanning 330 kilometers, with over 2.5 million casualties.
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