Mechanization has supplanted nearly all of society's manual labor, a technological plateau from which scientists gaze up at the lofty peaks of creating virtually human artificial beings. And as the organic population grows complacent with the cybernetic pleasantries of modern living, underground forces, disillusioned with the arrogance and bureaucracy of humanity, orchestrate the complete dominance of machines over mankind.

Set in the same mechanized metropolis as A.D. Police and Bubblegum Crisis, Bubblegum Crash picks up at a lull in activity for the Knight Sabers (the quartet of mecha-suited females at the center of Bubblegum Crisis), a lull that may even indicate the dissolution of the group. The potential disbandment strikes fear into the heart of the fiery Nene who remains an over active member of the A.D. Police. The throaty Priss entertains dreams of releasing an album, and the avaricious capitalist Linna revels in her role as stockbroker extraordinaire. However, the emergence topside of the furtive Sylia brings the covert, elite addendum of the A.D. Police together again for the sole purpose of thwarting the efforts of the aforementioned underground forces.

A self-consciously campy send up to cyberpunk of the seventies and eighties (as well as the wealth of cheesy action films like Robocop, Terminator and Bladerunner - especially Bladerunner as a centerpiece of the story involves synthetic beings with an uncanny resemblance to humans), Bubblegum Crash layers its tongue and cheek veneer with a fascinating universe. Most of the time the peripheral jokes provide incisive commentary on where mechanization will lead - and, most of the time, this 1991 anime lands right on the money for a miasmic 2002. An artificial newscaster, decked out in shades and a pink blazer, twitching with digitized ticks a la Max Headroom, announces the rash of bank robberies plaguing the city in the same kind of sensationalist manner with which the real local news is delivered today; a recruitment commercial for the A.D. Police features a stalwart, muscular bare-fister taking down a mammoth, robotic beast - followed by a vacuous sweetheart leaping into his arms - portends the hip approach now used by the Marines in their recruitment commercials; an advertisement for a power-drink designed for athletic robots (who, in the spot, are boxing) projects the human capacity for bloodlust into what should be a more peaceful modern age. But the series is also pocked with more subtle commentary on the hazy intersection betwixt man and machine - as guard robots get killed, the fluid within their steel frames seep from them like blood, and the springs and wires of their insides spill from their bodies like organic sludge; as investors lose faith in cybernetic technology, those stock values fall (it's a surprise more anime fans weren't stock consultants for Silicon Valley venture capitalists); and the definition of life shifts from biology to memory, a theme that spawns the most touching scene of the series (between Priss and Adama near the close of episode 2).

Directors Hiroshi Ishiodori and Hiroyuki Fukushima, therefore, evoke pathos effectively throughout for both the robots and the humans of this mixed society. But the two can also fashion moving, fully-fleshed characters. They allow this youngish team to be spurred by adult motivations rather than childish fantasies of heroism - Priss' utter detestation of robots laces her involvement in the mission with vitriol; Sylia's filial drive to see her father's work protected keeps her turbulent emotions in check; Nene's loneliness has driven her to embrace the A.D. Police as a kind of surrogate family, and her role as a cop.

The story itself also transcends the humdrum of typical mecha-team anime, its antagonist - a disembodied voice with a strangely socialist manifesto - sounding the call against human abuses. And how can he be entirely wrong - the Knight Sabers themselves all engage in small-minded, idle pursuits - a pop star, a stockbroker, a career cop. Sylia is the only one that really seems to understand the gravity of what's at stake, and she should considering that her father and his avuncular assistant developed the very technology against which the Saber Knights now have to battle. The mini-series clearly errs on the side of the establishment, but not without giving the villain a more sympathetic cause than purloining funds from the coffers of banks. And the very bureaucracy the villain strikes at is the same bureaucracy that seems to tie the hands of the frustrated A.D. Police.

But probably the most prophetic element of Bubblegum Crash is the nature of the enemy - an organization formed by an elusive man, obviously well-funded, it's mercenary troops culled from the world's hot spots such as Southeast Asia, South America and the Middle East to battle an oppressive government body. Their goal: to rule the world through chaos and terror. Given the present crisis, I'm curious about where our Knight Sabers might be.