Ghost in the Shell Page #2

a garbage truck go by here?

Who wants to know?

Did you see it or not?

Yeah, but they were gone

by the time I got my trash.

One was using the phone,

so I thought I had time--

Uh, can you take this

to them?

A garbage truck? Of course...

They move every seven minutes.

Control! Get me

the trash collection

routes for that sector!

There are eight garbage trucks

operating in the target area.

Target is a type C

collection truck, #79.

Let me drive.

Ishikawa, check out

the drivers' homes.

Batou, you get to their

next stop before they do!

He may be in contact

with someone else.

Observe, but don't move in!

Route data accessed.

Hacking points traced

and matched. Target

now stopped at next point.

Confirm access via HA-3.

Sorry, sorry.

How about I do the trash

and you make the call

on the next stop?

Okay?

Leave me out of your

little crime spree.

Can't believe this

load of bullshit...

- Do you have kids?

- Do I look like I do?

Then you couldn't

understand.

My daughter's my life.

Take a look. Isn't she

just a little angel?

I hate looking at other

peoples' family albums.

Yeah, truck 79.

Oh, boss. What's up?

The cops were checking our

routes? You wanna know why?

How should I know?!

They spotted the hack!

I gotta warn my friend!

We're gonna have to

skip our next stop!

Target has deviated from route.

Increasing speed to next point.

Is he on to us?

Didn't think he could see me.

My accessing

the sanitation dept. network

may have tipped him off.

Shoulda used a back door.

Too late.

Go for the collar.

You can drive now.

Jesus... He blew a perfectly

good armored van to sh*t.

He hosed us with

high-velocity AP rounds!

That car door's no cover!

In a submachinegun?

The guy must be nuts.

He's using

thermoptic camo, too?!

Keep after him!

I'll flank him from above!

Togusa, if you're still alive,

arrest those two garbage men.

Roger.

This job just never

lets up, does it?

Police! Everybody down!

All finished?

You all set?

That's what you get

when you overload

the ammo rating.

Frame's bent all to hell.

The barrel's shot, too.

Doesn't matter if you arrest me.

I'm not gonna talk!

Talk?!

And what would I ask a guy

who doesn't even know

his own name?!

Your mother's face.

The place you grew up in.

Memories of your childhood.

Can you remember

any of those things?

There's nothing sadder

than a puppet without a ghost.

Especially the kind

with red blood

running through them.

We'll rush the place

once the guys in

the helicopter are inside.

Squad B goes around back,

the rest of you take the front.

Saito, have your men

pull the plugs

on all their cars.

Begin recording.

Message from HQ, sir.

We've ID'ed the guy

the Major collared.

Go on.

Tsuan Gen Fang. Age: 28

Illegal alien.

Weapons violations.

Three priors.

Was hiding out with

a militant refugee group

up till a month ago.

One week ago,

because of his record...

...he was contacted

by a military liason

in the Gavel embassy to...

...attack the secret talks

we would be having with them.

And the real story?

Nickname:
Corgi. Occupation:

a rather violent scrap dealer.

Guess you could

call him a thug.

We've checked the records

the local cops have on him...

...but we can't find

any connection with Gavel.

Another puppet from our friend

the Puppet Master.

And what about lshikawa?

He's back. He's with Togusa,

talking to that poor trash man.

So, what about

the Puppet Master

on your end?

How's he look to you?

Like a puppet himself...

- Squad B, in position.

- Squads A and C, ready!

Ready to move in, sir.

Move in.

What do you mean,

a "virtual experience?"

I mean your wife, your daughter.

the divorce, the affair...

They're all fake memories.

Like a dream.

Someone was using you

to ghost-hack

a government official.

No... That's impossible!

I've been

to your apartment.

No one's there.

It's a one-room apartment.

Yeah, I moved there

when we split up--

You've been living there

for ten years!

You have no wife,

no child.

Your family exists

only in your mind.

Look. This is the picture

you showed to your partner.

Who is it of?

But, she was there.

My daughter...

Smiling like an angel...

What's your

daughter's name?

Where did you meet

your wife, and when?

How many years ago

did you get married?

Who do you see

in the picture?

How do I get rid of

these fake memories?

I'm sorry. With our

current technology...

There've been two successful

deprogrammings...

...but I can't

recommend it to you.

I'm really sorry.

Virtual experiences,

dreams...

All data that exists

is both reality and fantasy.

Whichever it is,

the data a person collects

in a lifetime...

...is a tiny bit

compared to the whole.

A cyborg who goes diving

in her spare time.

That can't be a good sign.

When did you start doing this?

Doesn't the ocean scare you?

lf the floaters

stopped working.

Then I'd probably die.

Or would you dive in after me?

No one forced you

to come out here with me.

I just--

So, what's it feel like

when you go diving?

Didn't you go through

underwater training?

I'm not talking about

doing it in a damned pool.

I feel fear. Anxiety.

Loneliness. Darkness.

And perhaps, even...hope.

Hope? ln the darkness

of the sea?

As I float up

towards the surface...

...l almost feel

as though I could change

into something else.

As though you want

to quit Section 9?

Batou, how much

of your original body

do you have left?

Are you drunk?

Convenient, isn't it?

With the merest thought,

the chemical plants

inside our bodies...

...could metabolize

all the alcohol in our blood

in about ten seconds...

Allowing us to sit here

drinking while on stand-by.

If a technological feat

is possible, man will do it.

Almost as though it's wired

into the core of our being.

Metabolic control.

Enhanced sensory perception.

Improved reflexes

and muscle capacity.

Vastly increased data

processing speed and capacity.

All improvements

thanks to our cyber-brains

and cyborg bodies.

So what if we can't live

without high-level maintenance?

We have nothing

to complain about.

It doesn't mean we've sold

our souls to Section 9.

We do have the right

to resign if we choose.

Provided we give the government

back our cyborg shells...

...and the memories

they hold.

Just as there are

many parts needed

to make a human a human...

...there's a remarkable number

of things needed to make...

...an individual

what they are.

A face to distinguish

yourself from others.

A voice you aren't

aware of yourself.

The hand you see

when you awaken.

The memories of childhood,

the feelings for the future.

That's not all.

There's the expanse

of the data net...

...my cyber-brain

can access.

All of that goes into

making me what I am.

Giving rise to a consciousness

that I call "me."

And simultaneously confining

"me" within set limits.

Is that why you dive

into the sea with a body

that only sinks?!

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