Hitori Nojima: Death Stranding: The Official Novelization, Volume Two

“I’m artificial,” Deadman explained. “Grown from pluripotent stem cells. And when that vita spark didn’t manifest in all my organs, they replaced the defective ones with those of the dead. People born the traditional way have Beaches. You have one. BB, too. But I have no such connections. No ka . I’m a dead man. No mother. No afterlife. No Beach. I never even had a birthday. I’m a soulless meat puppet.”

As Sam looked up and met Deadman’s gaze, he noticed that Deadman’s eyes were full of tears. He couldn’t believe it. This man had feelings. He was capable of independent thought. He was brimming with curiosity. He must have had a soul. ( Silly Sam. Consciousness and the soul are different. )

“You see now why I’m so obsessed with it all? It was why I looked after the BBs, too. If this kid is just some piece of equipment, then what am I?” Deadman tried to touch the pod, but his hand slid right through it. “The battlefield, now that was an awful Beach. But strangely, I didn’t hate it. Because I knew you were coming for me. I’ve never felt that before. Connected to someone. Anyone.” Deadman turned his head as if to ask Sam for affirmation of that connection.

“Look, Sam. I sometimes think about this. If the Beach is linked to individual people, doesn’t that in itself mean that the Beach doesn’t actually exist? Doesn’t it mean that the Chiral Network and that Beach of Fragile’s that I use to jump from place to place is all just a delusion? That the only reason they form part of our reality is because we all share the same delusion inside our heads? That would make what we call connections extremely fragile. But it would also make things so much easier for me. It means that I wouldn’t have to come up with these justifications about Frankenstein’s Monster or cadaver organs.”

Huh? Was that confession just before a big pile of bullshit? It all made Sam’s head spin.

“You don’t need to look so grim. I know that I don’t have a Beach and that I can’t even sense it. I don’t have DOOMS. That’s the one thing that makes me the same as other people. But I still couldn’t stand it. I didn’t feel like I was alive. I was jealous of you.”

As far as Sam was concerned, if Deadman wanted his DOOMS, he could have it. It was because of those abilities that he had lost Lucy and Lou. An uncontrollable urge welled up inside him. If Deadman hadn’t been a hologram, he would have hit him. ( Despite your aphenphosmphobia? )

— You didn’t have to cut ties and walk away.

Sam froze at Bridget’s frail voice. He looked warily around the vicinity like a frightened hound.

But all he saw was the look of puzzlement on Deadman’s face.

“That’s what Bridget used to say,” Deadman said. Had Sam misheard Deadman’s voice? Or were they sharing the same delusion? “Bridget was right. I truly believe so.”

“I didn’t cut any ties. They were never there to begin with,” Sam snapped back, afraid that he would hear Bridget’s voice in his head again. The hoarseness made him feel even more strange. It had been ten years. After ten whole years without contact, as Bridget lay there dying and Amelie was trapped on the other side of the continent, she had begged him to help. But what her lot called “ties” were nothing but lies. He couldn’t blame that frail woman for everything, though. He was here of his own accord. He was the one who hadn’t been able to bury the past. He hadn’t changed since the day he had been unable to protect Lucy or Lou.

But simply blaming himself like that was a distraction from what really mattered. He knew it. That’s why he was afraid to look Deadman in the face. Deadman probably saw through everything.

Sam couldn’t tell how Deadman was interpreting this long silence.

“I thought we had ties,” Deadman muttered, severing the connection. The hologram disappeared. The space he had been occupying suddenly felt all the more empty. It was the same feeling Sam had back then. When all he could do was stand dumbfounded in the middle of the crater that had been gouged out of the earth. Where that city had once stood. When he remembered the ruins of the satellite city that Lucy and countless others had been snatched away from, he had the same feeling that he had when he thought back to Central Knot City, and how he couldn’t save them either, despite taking Igor’s BB. The actions of the invisible dead who were purging man from this earth kept Sam grounded and stuck in the past. Even if he stretched out his hand, begged them to give him sweet release, his prayers would never be answered. He would only ever be sent right back where he started.

Sam brushed away the snow that was clinging to his goggles and checked his location on the map on his device. If he ascended the slope then he should be able to see Heartman’s research facility.

It was seven days since Sam had departed Mountain Knot City. He had already surmounted two peaks, crossed a crevasse, and climbed and descended more slopes than he could count. The weather had been relatively stable, but the skies were beginning to turn a little more ominous now and it looked like a blizzard was on its way. Sam wanted to get to Heartman’s place before it arrived. He couldn’t risk losing cargo this precious. It was irreplaceable. It was something that Sam struggled to class as “cargo” at all. It was Mama’s body wrapped tightly in a body bag.

After dying together with her unborn baby, Mama’s ka had become connected to her ha through the ka of her child. It was likely because of that she was able to move her body as if she was still alive. Even after the umbilical cord that connected them had been cut, Mama’s body neither necrotized nor decomposed. In fact, it had remained in the same state as when she had just died. Such an unusual phenomenon had piqued Heartman’s interest and he had requested to examine the body. He thought it might provide a vital clue to understanding the relationship between the ha and the ka , and that between the worlds of the living and the dead that the Beach connected. If Sam was lucky, it might even offer some insights as to why Sam was the way he was, too. That’s why it was so important to get Mama’s body to Heartman. The long march to his lab felt like her funeral procession.

After circumventing the large rocks that began to protrude halfway up the slope, Sam’s view suddenly expanded. He could see to the bottom of the basin and the frozen lake that lay there. It was hard to make out amid the snow flurries, but it seemed to be shaped like a heart. Like a simple heart that had been doodled by a child. Heartman resided alongside it.

As Sam reached the lab, the sensor scanned Sam and opened the entrance. The delivery terminal that was set up next to it automatically booted up, welcoming Sam to the facility. Sam was about to announce his arrival when he was greeted by a mechanical sound.

The door opened and Sam proceeded into a long corridor that was flooded with light. In contrast to Mama’s lab, Heartman’s lab was immaculate. There wasn’t so much as a speck of dust in sight, but no signs of life either. The hallway was almost silent. The sound of Sam’s footsteps and breathing were the only noises echoing faintly between the walls, which felt kind of cushioned and springy, just like the floors.

Encouraged onward by the voice, Sam passed through the automatic doors. Suddenly, the hallway was cloaked in darkness. Sam couldn’t make out what was in front of him, but luckily there was a handrail to grab onto nearby. Sam gripped it and waited for his eyes to become accustomed to the blackness. Music was playing faintly in the distance. It was a heavy and melancholic piano piece. It was Chopin’s Funeral March. The moment Sam turned in the direction of the source of the music, something caught in his throat. Something that couldn’t possibly be there was floating in front of him.