Chaos Theory: Chapter 17 (Patreon)

Chapter 17: Pico-Economics

I was utterly furious.

The buttons of my biggest dress shirt—one I’d bought before I figured out Japanese sizes and never got around to returning—dug into my skin as I walked down the street. I was drawing stares, and for once I knew it wasn’t because I looked like I was about to kill someone, because none of the men were looking at my face.

More than once, I’d shoved a teen with a goofy expression on his face out of the way, and let me tell you, I was not enjoying this aspect of Japanese culture nearly as much as the tea ceremonies.

“‘Mama…,’ says Misaka.”

I turned to give my daughter my most disappointed look. She wilted, big brown eyes drooping downward in a way that tugged at my heart strings, but I held firm. This was an important lesson, for both of us.

I held up the Indian whatever card. It was scorched black, from when I’d exploded with my own electricity in surprise and added a bed to the list of things I had to replace. “Do you understand why I am so upset that you used this on me while I was sleeping?”

She nodded mutely.

I shoved the card back into my pocket, because at least my pants still fit. Maybe I was over reacting, but I’d like to see anyone wake up nearly five pounds heavier and handle it with grace. ‘Oh but, Taylor, it’s your boobs that got bigger, didn’t you used to complain about how Emma had bigger breasts than you all the time?’

Yes, I did have those thoughts, back when I was a teenager. I’d been perfectly content with my body type for years. Now I had back pains and it wasn’t even noon yet.

I sighed. “Misaka, I just… assumed that you of all people would know not to use untested technology on people without their consent.”

“‘The network did test the Indian Poker card,’ says Misaka, kicking her foot against the ground guiltily.”

I gave a pointed look towards her figure, which remained completely unchanged.

Misaka ducked her head. “‘I examined the circuitry with a guided electric current and network meta analysis showed that the so named Indian Poker card would have no negative effect on your mental state…’ says Misaka…”

“Maybe next time, you’ll think to share that finding with me first,” I said. Then I shook my head. “We’ve already had this conversation. I’m sure you understand, and so I’m doing my best not to take out anymore of my petty frustration on you, but please, understand why I’m so… vexed by waking up this way.”

I let out a sigh. It really was just a stupid, honest mistake. That didn’t mean it wasn’t also stupidly frustrating. I’d been planning on running down more leads on who tried to get me assassinated, preferably before Shizuri got out of lock up. Now I had to spend the rest of my weekend shopping for new clothes and trying to hunt down that shady card dealer from the mall.

In any case, I was going to be very busy before returning to school on Monday.

With all that in mind, I just waved my hand. “You don’t have to come with me, alright? I know I’m not the best company right now. I just need some time to calm down, and then we can talk about this when I get back home.”

In my mind, I knew I was blowing this out of proportion. It was just a few cup sizes, hardly the end of the world. I’d been turned into a mutant tinker abomination and had my arm burned off and been less upset, but it was exactly because of the difference in scale that I found this whole situation so frustrating.

Who in their right mind made a dream card that increased cup size? And then they didn’t just go to mass market with the technology either? They didn’t patent it? It was just sitting on a blanket with every other card like a pirated DVD?

And of course it was me who stepped in the middle of this nonsense. My life wasn’t a rom-com, you know. My clothes didn’t automatically change sizes to fit my new figure.

So yes, I think my frustration was a little bit understandable.

“‘Mama grits her teeth in her sleep,’ says Misaka suddenly.”

I blinked, turning to look at my Misaka. She stared at me intensely.

“I don’t understand,” I said.

“‘The Network does not need to sleep very much,’ says Misaka, ‘therefore, while awake at night, I often hear Mama having a bad dream while getting water, or looking at cat pictures upon the computer.”

I tilted my head at that. I barely remembered my dreams. They were just brief flashes of past events, snippets of the things that had happened to me, all scrambled together without any order.

I guess if you parsed through my experiences, you could call them nightmarish.

“Is that…why you bought the card?” I asked.

“‘Yes,’ says Misaka, nodding. ‘I wanted Mama to have the best dream, instead of the bad dreams that she usually has.” She looked up at me, eyes shining with a deep, unalloyed honesty. “Because living with Mama has been like a dream for me.”

I stopped.

Then I let out a long, shuddering breath. “I’m sorry I’ve been a bad parent this morning.”

“‘No,’ says Misaka. ‘Even this is a good parent, because Mama explained what the network did wrong, and why it is wrong.’”

I gave a short laugh, wiping at the corners of my eyes. “Is this your way of saying you want to come shopping with me?”

Misaka tilted her head. “‘No?’ says Misaka with some confusion as this was her way of saying she loved Mama and she thought it was very clear. ‘But I would also like to go shopping with you.’”

“You were clear.” I reached out, pulling her into a hug. “I understood you completely.”

How could she be so vexing one moment, and so heartwarming the next?

It must be a Misaka thing.

“‘Hugs are now much more soft and warm,’ notes Misaka with—”

I pressed her face directly into my newfound cleavage. “Hush, you’ll just make me upset again.”

She nodded, squeezing her arms tightly around my side.

After a moment, I stepped back. “Alright, lets get to the mall. Maybe we’ll get lucky and kill two birds with one stone.”

Misaka nodded, falling in step beside me. Reaching out, she hooked her pinky around mine.

I hid a smile behind the curtain of my hair.

I was still supposed to be mad at her, after all.

We made it to the mall again, and unfortunately the sketchy salesman wasn’t there, but he was only half the reason we’d come here. The other reason, of course, was clothes. Fortunately, my usual clothing store was on the opposite side of the mall as the jewelers’, so I could avoid at least one awkward conversation.

“Hello, Miss,” said a shop attendant as I entered a woman’s clothing store. I needed a complete new wardrobe, both casual and formal, and I needed it quickly. “Please let me know if there is anything I can help you with!”

“Thank you.” I nodded. “Do you know if you have any bras in, well, my size?”

The younger girl blinked, tucking a strand of her straight black hair over an ear. “Ah, that’s…” She blushed slightly, before recovering. “I do not know if we cover that size, but if we do, it will be in that row over there.” She pointed.

I craned my neck. “Next to the summer dresses?”

“Ah, no. In the corner.”

I quirked my lip. “I see. Thank you.”

She bowed lightly. “Please let me know if I can help you with anything else!”

I waved her off as I pulled my Misaka along with me to the back of the store. There were several pretty summer dresses on the way, but unfortunately, I’d had trouble finding dresses for women my height before one factored in my sudden shift in profile. Now, anything long enough for me would…well.

I’d heard other women casually refer to my bust shape as a ‘milk tent’…

I sighed. Reversed body dysmorphia aside, I was not looking forward to selecting bras, but if I bought anything else first, I’d regret it later. I’d been spoiled for choice in Japan before; my size was—or rather had been—very well catered to.

Now I looked at about half a rack full of baggy, off-white bras, and realized that there was only one hangar that even looked like it approached the right size.

I glanced morosely at the letter much farther along in the alphabet than I was comfortable with. A quick check showed that it was in fact the largest offering. Misaka stood by me silently, unwilling to provoke my ire so quickly after I’d ‘forgiven’ her.

I sighed.

“Well, I should go try this on, at least.”

“‘I will guard the changing room,’ says Misaka.”

I just nodded my head, stepping into the first empty changing room at the back of the store and pulling the thick cotton curtain closed behind me. The buttons kept catching as I undid my shirt, but thankfully, after the first two, getting the rest of the shirt off was much easier.

I didn’t relish the thought of getting it back on.

I stared down at my offending bust. “What am I supposed to do with you? Christ.” At least when I checked in the mirror my figure seemed… balanced, if a little absurd. With another sigh, I wrapped the bra around my sternum, latching the clasp and spinning it around again. I frowned when I realized that I’d have to do a bit more work to slide the straps over my shoulders than usual, but I made do.

There was much shifting involved. Fortunately, I was perky.

I settled the strap on my shoulder and frowned. The wire started to pinch almost immediately.

No, this was worse than no support at all.

I poked my head out from behind the curtain. “There aren’t any other sizes, are there.”

Misaka shook her head. “‘No, Mama’ says Misaka.” I sighed a third time.

Getting my shirt back on was just as much of a hassle as I anticipated.

My back was already starting to ache.

We wound up checking pretty much every clothing store for women in the mall, and a few for men as well. For bras, my haul was three sports bras that were… serviceable, and that was the entire stock in my size, as well as a lone formal bra that had the high praise of not immediately pinching or chafing the moment I put it on and tried to move with it. It was also maybe half a size too small, causing me to… pillow over the top.

I did not have high hopes for it.

Clothes were better. I didn’t have to buy new pants at the very least, but I did find a new pair of athletic pants that could pass for business casual. I had the feeling I’d need them soon.

That little gem was the best find of my day. For shirts, I found a few button downs that would do until I could get something ordered. For suit coats, I found none.

“We can get you something tailored by tomorrow.”

I nodded to the man who had altered my first set of formal suites for Tokiwadai. “How much?”

He hummed. “I didn’t expect you to be back so soon, but I suppose I understand why.” He nodded his head slightly, grey widow’s peak pointing like an arrow to my decolletage. “If you bring back your old suis, I would give you a discount: 100,000 yen.”

I gave a laugh. “That’s a discount.” I rubbed my forehead. In all honesty, it was less than half of what I’d paid for my first set of suits that I needed for my job, and I’d need some rather… substantive changes. So really, it wasn’t that much more money.

I’d just convinced myself that the first round of suits had been a long term investment.

“I’ll take two.”

He nodded, folding his hands behind his back. “I shall have them ready for you tomorrow, as long as they are dropped off before we close today.”

“Thank you.” I bowed slightly as well. It was more money than I was comfortable spending, but then, it was also a rush order, and it was unfortunately necessary for Tokiwadai.

Nothing but the best, after all.

I snorted to myself as we left the store. I wondered if my mom would be laughing at me right now. She’d spent a lot of her time fighting for women’s rights in various ways, and here I was dropping a couple grand so my clothes could look pretty enough for my place of work.

I shook off the asinine thought. Besides, body shaming cut both ways. I would own this new look of mine with all the grace and poise as I’d owned my last look.

You know, once I found a bra that fit.

“‘The mall should have a better selection next week,’ says Misaka.”

I glanced at my Misaka as we made our way out of the mall. “How does that work?”

“‘While not the same class at all as Tree Diagram, most retail spaces in Academy City operate smart purchase software, or SPS,’ says Misaka as she educates mama on the technology. ‘Purchase patterns are stored and compiled so that optimal manufacturing decisions can be made, streamlining shipping and retail in public spaces in order to compete with the ease of online order.”

I blinked. “You just had that in the network?”

“‘No,’ says Misaka as she shakes her head. ‘It is stored in plain text on the server port for SPS communications.’”

I paused right before the doors. “Have you… looked over the digital security of my apartment, by the way?”

She nodded “‘The network maintains a firewall for Mama,’ says Misaka, ‘prevented unwanted intrusions in addition too—’”

The door to the mall slid open, and someone slammed into me. I felt his head hit my chest before it bounced off in a way that left me feeling…

Unsure of my place in the world.

I turned. “Speaking of unwanted intrusions.” I placed a hand on my hip, looking down at the young man who’s just run into me. “Mr. Kamijou, you should look where you’re going.”

He started up at me for a long moment, eyes blinking rapidly. “Uh, yeah, ahah, sorry, teach?” I heard him mutter ‘how unfortunate’ as he twisted his head to the side. My eyes tracked to his right hand has he half-covered his eyes so that he wasn’t staring at me.

At least he had some decorum.

“Say, Mr. Kamijou.”

“Eh?”

I tilted my head. “That right hand of yours.”

My Misaka clamped her hand down on my wrist. “Mama,’ says Misaka. ‘This course of action is not supported by the network.’”

I looked at her, then back to Kamijou Touma.

For what the umpteenth time today, I sighed. “No, no, you’re right. There are some questions in life that aren’t worth answering.” I looked back down at the boy on the ground. “I’m sure we’ll run into each other again, Mr. Kamijou, but try to make it less literal next time.”

He pushed himself to his feet, a sheepish expression on his face. “Yeah, even though I wish Sparky would stop roping me into her schemes.” He waved a little at my Misaka.

“Touma!” A girl’s voice echoed out from deeper in the mall.

The teen snapped to attention. “Whoops, gotta go, teach!”

I watched him rush off, before shaking my head. “Let’s go,” I said. We stepped out onto the sidewalk. Thankfully, now that I had tops that fit, I attracted far less looks exiting the mall than entering it. “Maybe if we’re lucky, we can find that guy selling the—”

I paused on the sidewalk, hairs on the back of my neck standing up.

*~*~*~*

“I have her.”

The man and the woman had set up in the tenth floor of a nearby office building.

“Lucky!” The man gave a thumbs up, running his other hand through his spiky hair. “Toldya she’d come back to the mall.”

“Whatever.” The woman shifted where she lay on her front across the conference table. “Distance?”

“Hmm.” The man leaned forward, long fingers working the dials on his glowing orange glasses. “four hunnit fitty meters.”

She quirked her ruby red lips into a frown. “Speak normally. Wind?” At less than half a kilometer, wind shouldn’t matter overmuch for her rifle normally, but the round she had to use to pierce Academy City’s shatterproof glass made it tricky.

“Now wait a minute.” The man waved a hand in front of her scope.

“Move it or lose a hand, jerkwad.” She poked her rifle into his gloved hand.

He continued unconcerned. “We sure that this is the target? I mean, look at that rack!”

She flicked her gaze back to the target. That woman was standing on the sidewalk, looking around concerned. The sniper had to admit she had a very nice pair. Probably pretty decent if you didn’t have to lay on hard desks all day. “So?”

The man held the picture of the target in front of the scope, obscuring her vision. She blinked: the target was as flat as a board. “Okay, so it’s an old picture, now give me the wind speed already.”

“No, no, no!” He shook his head. “A woman doesn’t just sprout a pair of boobs that scrumptious out of thin air! It can’t be the same woman, I refuse to believe it!”

She swung her rifle to the side. It connected with the spotter’s family jewels with a satisfying crunch, sending the man to the floor. “Fucking dickbag,” she muttered.

He fell over with a wheeze and the sniper reset her rifle. “Now give me the wind speed.”

He said nothing for a long moment, and then, “Think about it this way. If our fixer got her three sizes wrong, what else do you think they messed up?”

The woman scoffed and reacquired the target.

Then the sniper froze when she found the woman’s deep brown eyes looking directly into her scope.

The sniper sat up and rolled off the conference table. “You know what, asswad, you’re right.” She started breaking down her rifle and packing it away. “There’s a shortage of perfect breasts in the world, and it would be a shame to ruin hers.”

“Loved that movie,” the man wheezed.

She made sure to step on his face on the way to the door.