Paradise Circus 2/7
PARADISE CIRCUS 2/7
Kindness: it's contagious!
Use polite language with guests at all times. Remember that each guest is someone's son or daughter, husband or wife, brother or sister, father or mother. See the person behind the hero, and treat them with respect and dignity.
From the Paradise Circus Civilian Employee Manual, Chapter Three: Conduct Around Guests.
---
It was a pointless exercise, fishing debris out of the water, but Ohno usually preferred the more pointless tasks of his job. Having a steady routine made the days go smoothly. Maru had said only two people had been in the water during his shift, and there'd been none during Ohno's shift. It was a decent day, a little overcast, but most people had probably been out at the Midway. So he wasn't likely to find anything. Surely Maru would have caught it before there'd been the shift change.
But it was calming to walk along the edge of the pool, bare feet on the cool tile. It was completely dry since nobody had jumped or even eased their way into the water in almost six hours. He walked at a steady pace, tapping the pole end of the net against the floor with his usual thunk thunk thunk. The sound of it echoed off the walls as the hand on the wall clock continued around. It had just hit 7:00 PM. Cleaning time.
He walked the length of the pool, thunk thunk thunking every few meters or so. Once he'd completed his circuit, finding absolutely nothing that needed to be fished out, he headed for the supply closet and dragged the reel with the pool cover along. He hummed quietly to himself as he set up the reel, activating the motor to get the cover moving across the water. Ohno helped guide the cover along, securing it at the opposite end. Sometimes he wondered what it would feel like to lie in the middle of the cover, if it would be like a waterbed or something.
Once the pool was covered he slipped his sandals on and got to work in the shower room, spraying it down with the hose and walking through the chemically soapy water. He could probably lie, initial the sheet and say he'd thoroughly scrubbed down the facilities, but the earlier he left his own tasks the more he had to help clean up the rest of the hotel. It was far easier to deal with the chemical smell or clean someone's hair out of a drain than to listen to the people in the hallways who wouldn't go into their rooms.
Ohno understood the last-minute panic. After nine years of it he thought he'd be used to it, the sound of the staff coaxing people into their rooms, the obvious commotion outside the hotel as some guests tried to elude the staff and the Self-Defense guys. But 7:00 PM came every night, and the staff psychologists always said it was the "bargaining" stage, that it was normal.
"Hey there!"
Ohno turned with the hose in hand, nearly slipping on the tile at the sight of the person who'd joined him in the shower room. He accidentally sprayed the guy's slacks and shoes, wincing before he managed to get the thing off. "I'm sorry."
The guy was drenched from the waist down, scratching his hair in annoyance. "Ah, crap! I knew I should have waited until you were done."
Now that Ohno had turned the hose off and was completely out of cleaning mode, he recognized the guy. "From lunchtime...Aiba-san?"
He grinned despite being covered in soap. "I was heading back to the Village, but I thought I'd say hi."
Ohno sloshed through the water a bit to hang the hose back up. "I'm really sorry."
"No, it's alright. My fault. Is your shift over?"
He shook his head. "No, once I clean the pool I help everyone else..." He stared at the new employee curiously. "But uh, do you need help or something?"
Aiba had a kind face, and Ohno was kind of sad to see him. People never really knew what they were getting into when they signed on at Paradise Circus, and Ohno knew that as well as anyone. He wondered how long it would be before Aiba's kindness became depression, or worse, apathy.
"Well, I could use a change of clothes. And some dinner, but I don't have any food yet. I was kind of hoping I could find someone back in the Village I could eat with, I mean, I'd pay them back of course. But if you have things to do here..."
He was supposed to be checking rooms with the rest of the staff, cleaning up some of the furniture from the patio outside, but Aiba was new. Ohno was probably the last person anyone needed as a mentor, and returning to the Village early was always frowned upon. But he could always write it off as helping a new employee get settled.
"Just let me wrap things up, okay?"
Aiba, still dripping wet, smiled and exited the shower room, leaving Ohno to finish up his duties. Once he was done cleaning, he changed out of his trunks and sandals and into his jeans and sneakers. He initialed the board - it was just his and Maru's initials most of the time anyhow, it wasn't like people checked up on them much - and found Aiba waiting for him. They headed out one of the rear staff entrances. The last thing they needed to do was head out through the lobby especially when it was lockdown time.
They wandered down the grassy slope, and the sun had already set. They heard a horrible scream come from the direction of the Midway, and Aiba grabbed hold of his arm in terror. "What the hell was that?" the guy asked him, seeming unashamed of his fright.
You know what that is, Ohno wanted to say, but what was the point in being mean? Again, it was Aiba-san's very first day. He hadn't done this for nine long years of his life yet. "Someone doesn't want to go to their room," he said in reply, and Aiba let him go.
"I see."
They continued the walk to the Village in silence, finally spotting the lights on in the various houses. Ohno had lived in House 3 for all nine years. Sometimes people swapped to other buildings if they started dating someone or if they didn't get along with their housemates, but Ohno never had. His room was comfortable, and everything was in its right place. Let everyone else move, he figured.
"I'm in House 7," Aiba said, gesturing across the lawn to one of the other buildings. "What about you?"
"Number 3."
"Oh, that's too bad."
"Why don't you go change and come to the House 3 kitchen? I'll make some dinner."
Aiba found that agreeable, and as the Self-Defense Force patrolled the grounds and the last howling guests were herded into the hotel, Ohno rummaged through his cupboard space and fridge space. There were a lot of first shift people in the house, so their dinner dishes were piled up in the sink. Ohno wasn't used to being home so early, but he managed to find a clean wok in Maru's cupboard and got to work. Concentrating on cooking was just as easy as concentrating on cleaning the pool. There was a set routine.
Aiba knocked on the glass outside, waving at Ohno in the kitchen. He gestured for Aiba to come on inside, and he looked even more like a nervous newbie out of his work uniform. "I made fried rice, I hope that's okay," Ohno explained, turning off the burner and digging through Maru's cupboard for some clean plates. Maru was always more diligent about dishes than Ohno was anyhow.
"My parents own a Chinese restaurant. Fried rice is more than okay."
It was the second meal they'd shared that day, and Aiba seemed exhausted. Ohno knew they started orientation earlier and earlier to avoid it clashing too much with guest arrivals. It was just after 8:00 PM when the siren in the courtyard went off.
Aiba looked up at him, confused.
"They sound it when all the guests are in their rooms. They'll sound it again just after midnight. When all the guests are...well..."
Aiba's face turned pale.
"You get used to it," Ohno explained calmly, even as his heart raced. You never got used to it.
---
They were probably sounding the siren by now, Jun thought as he settled down at the living room table with his plate. He had first rotation again in the morning, so it was kind of a late dinner for him. But through no fault of his own. He'd gotten home at 1730 hours after hitting the gym, punching the bag to clear his head. But the apartment had been empty so he'd delayed dinner for an hour to wait. And then another hour before his stomach had started to rumble.
There was nothing on TV tonight, but they'd been showing reruns of some drama from the 90s that Higashiyama Noriyuki had been in. It was like all of the TV stations in the Tokyo area were trying to outdo one another with their tributes to him, airing every single drama the guy'd appeared in, every single movie. Channel One had even gotten the rights to air some videotaped stage play Higashiyama had done in the 80s. Jun settled on a cooking show, envying the chefs as he dug into his pasta with canned sauce. The lateness of his meal had made him settle for something boring and overly processed.
He was just finishing up when he heard the key in the lock, and he turned the volume down on the TV as the door opened. "I'm late, I know. I'm really sorry."
Jun shrugged, even though it would be obvious to anyone how irritated he was. "There's plenty left to heat up. Should microwave fine."
"Ah, I already ate."
He got to his feet, grabbing his plate and heading for the sink. Typical. "There's nothing on TV. You can go ahead and play if you want to."
Nino was hanging his jacket up in the closet, looking embarrassed. "I said I'm sorry. I didn't know you were going to cook anything."
Jun turned the sink on. "I'll put some in a container. You can bring it for lunch tomorrow."
"Jun-kun, really..."
"Look," he said, interrupting him as the water grew hot on his fingers as he scrubbed his plate with the sponge. "Just send me a message next time. It takes ten seconds, and then I won't wonder where you are."
"I was working late," Nino insisted. But then again, Jun thought, Nino had been working late a lot the past few months. He was pretty sure Nino was a decent employee, but the hole-in-the-wall movie theater couldn't possibly need him to work overtime this much. Not with the way Nino had described his miserly boss.
It was pointless to speculate about what Nino had actually been up to. If he had drinks with friends, he came home smelling like beer and smoke. If he went to the arcade, he came home smelling like sweat. He never came home smelling like he'd been intimate with anyone else, never any telltale signs like someone else's cologne or freshly showered from a quick stop at a love hotel. Nino was loyal as far as Jun knew, and they hadn't been together long enough for Jun to really insist upon it.
Jun just hated being kept in the dark.
He felt Nino in his space then, thin but warm with his arm around Jun's middle. "Let me wash the dishes for you. You need to sleep."
"I know I need to sleep."
"I'm trying to avoid a fight here," Nino said, shutting the faucet off.
Jun turned to look at him. Nino was shorter than him, but what he lacked in size he made up for in his attitude and in his eyes. And his eyes were insisting that he was sorry. Jun was used to the military life, to everything having clear cut reasoning and order. Nino was the only disorder he allowed himself, and even after two years it still drove him crazy.
He bent down, opening the cabinet under the sink to pull out a brand new box of scouring pads. He set it down on the countertop with emphasis. "Use these on the pan, or I will kill you."
"You can probably kill me in a hundred ways," Nino said with his eyebrow raised. "It's why I like you so much."
The tension vanished as it always did. Or as Jun always allowed it to.
He headed for their bedroom, shedding his clothes and slipping under the covers. Nino would stay up late with his nerdy little headset on, blowing people's heads off in whatever game he was into now. Jun had to content himself with the scent of Nino in the sheets and on the pillowcases, drifting off for a few hours of peace before it started all over again.
---
OFFICIAL TRANSCRIPT
CHANNEL ONE - EVENING NEWS BROADCAST
FREEDOM SEGMENT
AIRED 17 APRIL 2012 - 23:16-23:25
MURAO NOBUTAKA, ANCHOR: It's time for Sakurai Sho with the nightly Freedom segment of our broadcast. Sakurai-san, good evening.
SAKURAI SHO, CORRESPONDENT: Good evening, Murao-san.
MURAO: Yesterday's heroes have brought us this new day, and we honor them.
SAKURAI: We certainly do, Murao-san. In less than forty minutes another group of heroes will join the brave men, women, and children who came before them. Tonight I'd like to highlight the contributions of one of yesterday's heroes, Morita Aya.
(BEGIN PHOTO MONTAGE)
SAKURAI: (narration) Morita Aya-san was born and raised in Shimonoseki, Yamaguchi Prefecture. For the past fifteen years, Morita-san has taught mathematics at Yumegaoka Junior High School where she was named Teacher of the Year four years in a row...
---
Ohno-san had had a bottle of tequila in his room. It was against protocol. Beer was okay, but hard liquor was frowned upon at least while they were living in the Village. But Ohno had told him that everyone broke protocol. "As long as everyone who has to die at midnight dies, who cares?" Ohno had said, and Aiba was glad he was drunk enough to let the man's remark roll off him.
Ohno had passed out in the room, and Aiba had helped him into bed, pulling a blanket over him. He half-stumbled down the steps and out of House 3. The night was pitch black, and there was only some sparse lighting in the courtyard. He tried counting the buildings to figure out which one was his, but every time he tried to remember a number past five he lost count.
It was his first day, the end of his first day, and he was kind of a mess. But there was plenty of light up on the hill coming from the hotel. Sober Aiba would have gone straight to his room, but Drunken Aiba wasn't having it. Not yet. He needed to know, needed to see for himself.
The top floors were mostly dark for now. Ohno had explained it to him over dinner, the stuff that was only alluded to in orientation. It was probably why the night had led to tequila anyhow. 7:00 PM was when free rein on the grounds ended, and all the employees on second shift mobilized to get all 100 guests in their rooms. It was absolutely necessary because the rooms were soundproofed and sealed for good at 9:00.
The time between lockdown and 9:00 was when dinner trays were brought up. Some tried to get out then, too, but that's why the staff member bringing the dinner was always accompanied by someone from the Self-Defense Force. So the meals were dropped off, and they were all sealed up inside. They weren't like prison cells, though, Ohno said. They were hotel rooms with nice beds and bathrooms and TV sets.
Nobody got frisked on the buses or when they arrived. So Ohno explained that some ended it early with a razor or pills they'd smuggled in with them. It was messier, of course, but what did it matter? Otherwise sleeping gas was piped in to each room around 11:30 PM before the other gas at midnight. Quick, painless, efficient.
Aiba stumbled into the hotel lobby. Murakami Shingo-kun who had replaced Naka-san at the front desk was gone. He was out of uniform, drunk, and alone, and he headed for the reading room. He'd done a half-assed job of tidying up earlier that evening before wandering off and finding Ohno-san in the pool. He'd wanted to get the hell out and get back to the Village. But now he was back, the urge to be in the building when it happened overwhelming him.
That morning he'd signed all the forms, full of coffee and pastries and feeling proud of himself as he'd written down his mother and father and brother and sister-in-law. So it was worth it, right? It was worth it because he was doing it for their sake, doing it so they'd have a ten year reprieve. Ten years without the possibility of them ending up in one of the rooms on the floors above him, frightened and terribly, horribly alone at the very end.
And for the next ten years, Aiba would be here on these grounds, in this hotel, perpetual witness to the execution of one hundred people every day so Japan might remain free.
He was sobbing by the time he made it to the reading room, vision blurry and snot running down his face as he stumbled against the doorframe. He wasn't alone. There was a young woman in the room on a step-stool, placing a book up on one of the higher shelves. First shift in the reading room, Kanjiya-san.
She hopped off the stool, and Aiba's head was swimming as he sunk down to the floor. She was in uniform (his was still soapy and soaked and he'd just left it in his tub, he thought wearily), the sweater vest and skirt. She had dark hair piled up in a messy little bun on top of her head, and when she crouched down next to him, there were two of her until he blinked a few times. She had dark, beautiful eyes. He suddenly wanted to get very, very lost in them.
"My goodness," she said sternly. "Aiba-san."
"How...how did you..."
"Aiba-san," she grumbled. "You can't be here like this, someone will see."
"I want to know," he slurred at her, seeing her recoil a bit in disgust at the smell of alcohol on his breath. "I wanted to be here."
"You'll have ten years of this," she said, sounding a little kinder. "Believe me."
"I should help you with the books..."
"I can finish the books in the morning." She got back to her feet and held out her hand. "Come on, you have to go to the Village."
"No," he mumbled.
"They've fired people for less than this, and then where the hell would you be, huh?" she said. "Come on, up. Up, I said."
He took her hand, and she hauled him up with a groan. He towered over her, but he learned that looks could be deceiving because she was already pulling him along, hand tight around his wrist.
"I want to see."
"No," she said. "You don't."
Then they were outside again, and he was embarrassed. Ohno-san was supposed to be on the second shift, but he'd left early and made Aiba dinner. And now Kanjiya-san, who was filling in for what would eventually be Aiba's job, was leaving her own post. He was not exactly making good first impressions on his co-workers.
"We're in the same house," she said, having no trouble navigating them down to the Village and getting the door open. Thankfully there was nobody in the kitchen, and they headed up the stairs, her grip on him never loosening. He realized why she was so strong. Ohno-san was probably stronger than he looked too. Second shift had to help clean up the rooms after midnight.
They'd gotten strong carrying body bags.
He nearly threw up at the thought, but Kanjiya-san was a woman on a mission, and she dragged him right to his door. "For future reference, that's me," she said, nodding her head at the door just opposite his. Well, that certainly explained why she knew exactly where he lived. "Key?"
"Uhhh..."
"Well. Pardon me then," she said before boldly shoving her hand in the pocket of his jeans and finding his key with little trouble. She managed to get the door open, and he managed not to lose his dinner all over her. "In, you can do it."
He stumbled over to his bed, landing hard on his stomach. His room was still an unpacked mess on account of his evening with Ohno-san, but everything was spinning and he didn't much care. He could worry about that in the morning.
She was sitting on the floor next to his bed, staring at him a moment later. "Aiba-san."
"Mmm?"
"4:00 PM tomorrow. Don't be late."
"Yes," he muttered.
"No more tequila on a work night, you hear me?"
"Yes."
And suddenly the room was dark, and she was gone. The siren went off in the courtyard again, and this time he knew what it meant.
---
In the first few years of his contract, he'd done a lot more with his days off. It was always strange to leave the Village and the barbed wire behind, to turn his back on Paradise Circus and rejoin society. Even now he still felt like more of a tourist than anything else. In the early days he'd go all the way into the city, catch a movie, find a cozy enough bar. Sometimes his days off coincided with someone else's from work, and they'd try to get him to go places.
His male co-workers would drag him to the clubs in Roppongi. They'd say "Oh-chan, all we have to say is where we work, and they'll have sex with us, I guarantee it." And it was usually true. He'd picked up dozens of girls that way, and he'd only been more annoyed once he got back inside the barbed wire. It wasn't like they could follow him back. It was hard to get a second date when you only got let out two days a month. None of it went anywhere. Sex with strangers lost its appeal after a few years.
And female co-workers were worse. They already knew where he worked, so they wanted to be wined and dined. They'd say "Oh-chan, I want to forget for a little while," and even if a nice dinner ended with a hotel visit, the next day they'd be in uniform, eyes meeting across the room as they cleaned up a dead person's belongings. Needless to say, one of the things Ohno looked forward to the most when his contract ended was a normal relationship.
He'd never actually realized how appealing it would be to see the same woman day in, day out with no baggage, just love and companionship. To wake up in the morning, go to work, come home and have someone waiting there to greet him. He supposed this was the life Paradise Circus made possible in the first place. It still came at a hefty price.
So now on his days off, Ohno didn't let a co-worker rope him in. He did some grocery shopping, went fishing if he could. He'd been 21 when he'd signed on, and his parents always welcomed him home. The house was exactly the same, preserved in time, his bedroom too. His parents shared a similar life philosophy - if you're comfortable, don't change a thing.
Today was a day off, and his mother was making sukiyaki while his father sat in the living room watching golf. Even when his job was frustrating, even when his job was horrifying, he knew that his mom and dad were safe. Being home confirmed it all the more. If they felt grateful for what he'd done, signing up for Paradise Circus, they'd never said so aloud. It didn't really need to be said.
But his parents could read a calendar. Even if time in the Ohno household seemed to have stopped, the outside world hadn't. He had two months left, four days off. It seemed like his mother cooked him nicer and nicer meals when he stopped by. As if his contract would end and the very next day the letter would arrive in the mailbox. It wasn't likely, not statistically, but even so, the directionless kid who'd given up on art school would be home soon for good. A 31 year old lifeguard with little ambition.
"Satoshi," his mother said, her voice drifting from the kitchen along with the delicious smell of a home-cooked meal. "I can get you some boxes next time to take back if you need some boxes."
"That's okay," he called back. "They'll have boxes at work."
Soon he'd have to think about packing up his room in House 3. Not that he had much. Some of his housemates really went to town on decorating their spaces, making it home. They had book shelves and hot plates and drawers full of clothes. Ohno figured he could get everything into two or three boxes, tops.
He wondered what it would be like to live in his parents' house again. He had little choice in the matter. He was paid decently enough, so it wasn't a matter of not having the means to get his own place somewhere. But after living so long surrounded by other people, sharing kitchen space and having staff to clean his bathroom and vacuum his room, he doubted he was ready for any measure of independence. And given the current state of his room here at home, he could move right back in as though nothing had changed.
"Food is ready!"
He set down his sketchpad, just as blank as it had been two hours ago when he'd thought to pass the time with doodling, and followed his father to the dining room.
Dinner was usually a quiet affair when it was his day off. It was kind of like his parents just enjoyed having him at the table with them, sharing the meal together. Ohno liked it that way too. Sometimes he zoned out, worried about stuff he had to do once he got back to work, but other times he really paid attention. He'd stare at his mother's steady hands as she spooned out portions onto his dad's plate and his before ever serving herself. He watched the way his dad's jaw moved while he munched on something a little too chewy.
He wondered if they watched him too, wondered if they remembered him how he was before he left. He'd been grouchy, selfish. He'd barely finished high school through a correspondence program, had only gotten accepted to art school on talent, but everyone else at school always cared more than he did. They wanted to stay late and focus. He only did art for fun, not a career. He never knew what had really compelled him to go to the government office that day, to ask for an application. And he wondered what the hell they'd seen in him that made him look like a decent enough candidate for Paradise.
After almost ten years, he still had no idea.
"Would you like some more barley tea, Satoshi?"
He blinked, seeing his mother's patient face as she held out her hand for his glass.
"Ah, sure."
When dinner was done, he bid his parents farewell, taking the long walk back to the train station. His family lived to the west of Nerima, far from the center of Tokyo where they rounded people up. No matter where you lived in Japan, you had to report to the Shinjuku bus terminal at the date and time noted on the letter. It had to be weird working anywhere near there, seeing the people boarding the buses there early in the morning. His parents, luckily, were far from that. Paradise didn't touch them much aside from the nightly news or the list of names in the paper.
The train car was half empty, and he stood with his hand loosely holding the plastic ring overhead. Japan was such a normal country otherwise. The trains ran, people commuted to and from their jobs. Kids went to school, art school even if they really cared. And people like Ohno got off the train, picked up a few things from the grocery store, and phoned for an escort - the Self-Defense Force jeep arrived in ten minutes to take him back behind the barbed wire for another two weeks.
---
Q: What foreign language did you take in school?
A: I have to say, I went to a fairly liberal high school in the late 1980's. Some of my friends were stuck between the usual Mandarin and Russian at their schools, but they let us try Cantonese, Korean. It was a good school, too, and lots of graduates went on to Todai, Waseda, the really big name universities. So having that diversity was interesting.
As for me, I went with Russian. I was a little naive back then, and I thought if I was this master of Russian and Japanese that I could go places. The Soviets were starting to undergo regime change then, so we all thought that maybe we'd be allowed to go to Moscow, to Leningrad for some work study. We thought things would ease up. The economy was really taking off here. Japan had a lot to offer the world, maybe the Big Two would see that in us.
We were all ambitious, us kids graduating then. We'd been so diligent as a people, hadn't we? Twenty-five years of Paradise without fail, so there'd been no Soviet bombs. No Chinese bombs. We weren't fighting back, we hadn't ever fought back. But it didn't matter. The bubble burst, the government didn't dare rock the boat, and here we are now. Still offering daily sacrifices to these superpowers who don't give a damn about us.
Q: You don't think the Chinese or Russian governments would do anything if Paradise stopped? You don't think they'd carry out their threats against us?
A: After fifty years? Of course they don't care. They probably laugh themselves silly knowing we're still offering up lives to them. We're the only ones not in on the joke here. It's like we're dogs at the pound, doing any tricks we can, giving paw and rolling over in the hopes we don't all get put down.
But it's been a no-kill shelter for years, and we aren't willing to believe it.
From Our Stories: The History of the Riser Movement, Interview - Hatori Shinichi.
---
It had started off as a joke. This star-crossed, forbidden love shit. He wished he'd never said anything, wished he'd never even hinted about what Jun did for a living. It was probably a bad idea to go drinking with members of the shadowy underground organization you were a member of, an even worse idea to drop the bomb that the person you were seeing worked for the Self-Defense Force.
Of course, at first he hadn't expected the thing with Jun to go anywhere. He wasn't out, for one thing, not that a lot of people were, but Jun was especially not out because he didn't dare jeopardize his position. So Nino had thought that they'd meet up like old buddies, do one of those cloak and dagger routines to avoid being seen entering the same hotel, and then get off at the thought of how well they'd avoided getting caught. And then they'd grow tired of each other and would go their separate ways, start up the closeted song and dance with someone else down the line.
It hadn't worked that way. Jun was different. He wasn't "the one" or anything. Nino had never been sentimental enough to think like that about anyone he'd ever been in a relationship with, but Jun was pretty damn close. For one thing, Nino had never been interested in shacking up with someone he was seeing. He liked to keep romance and personal time separate.
But within a year, he found himself wanting to wake up and see Jun there. Wanted to know that he could go to work and have all the alone time he wanted and then go home to expend all his social energy with the one person who (mostly) understood him. Jun was obviously a soldier stereotype, meticulous and careful and always thinking about what he had to do next where Nino had always been better at letting things happen as they may. And yet Jun didn't seem to care. Jun didn't try to change him. Sure, he offered "helpful suggestions" but he mostly let Nino be.
Jun cooked. Jun cleaned. Jun was just a genuinely kind person, way more than Nino deserved. So Nino had made the mistake of bragging about him one night, about his special someone in the Self-Defense Force and now it was a huge problem.
Because Jun had gotten his promotion, and somehow they'd all found out. They'd hit the jackpot, hadn't they? They hated everything Paradise Circus stood for. They'd worked tirelessly for years to find a way to crack the system, to find a way in the gates. And now one of their members was living with someone who worked on the inside.
He was on his way to a gathering now after work. Three showings of Toda Erika's I Still Remember had filled him with his usual rage, and he was all set to denounce the government with the rest. It was how it had been forever, lots of talking and little action. But now when he showed up there'd be eyes on him, people staring. "That's Ninomiya, that's the one who can get us in."
So for eight months they'd hounded him, asked him if Jun talked about work. It was bad enough that Nino hid this from Jun and had been hiding this part of himself from the beginning. The police and the Self-Defense Force were always trying to track down the Japan Will Rise Again movement. Hell, it had only been five years ago that a huge ring had been busted in Nagoya, trying to send in their own associates in place of some of the Paradise Circus "guests." It was the worst thing the Risers had done since the 90's when there'd been the plot to blow up Hamamatsucho bus terminal, keep the buses from going out to the Circus. They'd moved transport to Shinjuku and quadrupled the security.
Now they met in pockets, yammering and bitching and full of righteous anger towards a system they couldn't change. By being a member, Nino was breaking the law. And in the last eight months he'd become a full-blown hypocrite. He denounced Paradise in daylight and fucked someone who enforced it by night.
He wasn't sure why he still bothered to go. They'd keep pestering him, begging for any snippets of info. Even something as mundane as the names of any co-workers Jun mentioned. He was increasingly frustrated. Paradise had to stop. There was no point. The Russians had calmed down, maybe the Chinese would one of these years. They didn't need to be appeased any longer. If it was anyone else in the organization involved with someone that close to Paradise, he would be calling for blood too. In all these years they'd never gotten anyone embedded, and the ones who'd tried had disappeared and never come back.
So if Nino followed his mind, followed logic, followed his unwavering belief that Paradise Circus was an unnecessary institution, that Japan was not going to be nuked into nothingness by the Big Two if they ended it - if he followed that, it only made sense to exploit his relationship with Jun. But for the past eight months, Nino had followed his heart, had let whatever Jun was to him mean more than everything else he stood for, had fought for.
And it frightened him.
Maybe that was why he kept going. Maybe if he let them nag him enough he'd give in, start pressing Jun for little bits of information. He was already a liar. The relationship was out of balance, and Jun was starting to notice. Nino was staying out more, attending more gatherings, and Jun was getting hurt. If he actually loved Jun, he'd break up with him instead of lying to him over and over again.
He walked through the door, seeing they had a decent crowd tonight. Thirty, maybe fifty people wandered around in suits and nametags. Nino had to wear a dinky vest and black slacks for work at the Vista, and it was as close as he had to a suit that wasn't the one he wore to funerals. He wrote "Higashiyama Noriyuki" on his name tag with a Sharpie and tossed the marker back on the table.
Everybody knew who he was. Even if he didn't know everyone else at the gatherings, he had some measure of infamy now. And the name tags and suits meant that if the cops busted in there was nothing to arrest them for. This was, after all, just a job fair. Even now a woman walked by with a briefcase, handing out fake resumes to everyone so they'd have some in hand during the meeting.
It was always informal on account of how half-assed they were as a social movement. Nagoya had taken the wind out of their sails, the senior members were growing older and didn't give two shits if they were picked in the lottery, and the younger members were all talk. It was mostly just PowerPoints and new encryption codes for their message boards.
There'd been professional hackers in the Riser movement back in the day, but most of the good ones had gotten arrested. Now they just had high school nerds, guys who dropped out of computer science programs. They were good at working around the Internet firewalls, finding out what people on the Chinese equivalent message boards were saying. They could find hidden microphones and listening devices. But nobody could break into government stuff anymore, not with the people they had working for Paradise.
The meeting commenced, as expected, with a PowerPoint presentation. Everyone sat, looking disgruntled, even though Nino knew they'd be off for dinner with the wife and kids or a drink with their friends soon after. Like normal, law-abiding citizens. But the air in the room was more hushed than usual, Nino noticed as soon as he took a seat. The disgruntled looks were there, but there was something else in everyone's eyes. Nino hadn't checked the message board that day - maybe he should have. Their eyes were full of hope.
The presenter clicked to the first slide, and Nino's eyes widened.
REGIME CHANGE COMING TO CHINA?
part three
Kindness: it's contagious!
Use polite language with guests at all times. Remember that each guest is someone's son or daughter, husband or wife, brother or sister, father or mother. See the person behind the hero, and treat them with respect and dignity.
From the Paradise Circus Civilian Employee Manual, Chapter Three: Conduct Around Guests.
---
It was a pointless exercise, fishing debris out of the water, but Ohno usually preferred the more pointless tasks of his job. Having a steady routine made the days go smoothly. Maru had said only two people had been in the water during his shift, and there'd been none during Ohno's shift. It was a decent day, a little overcast, but most people had probably been out at the Midway. So he wasn't likely to find anything. Surely Maru would have caught it before there'd been the shift change.
But it was calming to walk along the edge of the pool, bare feet on the cool tile. It was completely dry since nobody had jumped or even eased their way into the water in almost six hours. He walked at a steady pace, tapping the pole end of the net against the floor with his usual thunk thunk thunk. The sound of it echoed off the walls as the hand on the wall clock continued around. It had just hit 7:00 PM. Cleaning time.
He walked the length of the pool, thunk thunk thunking every few meters or so. Once he'd completed his circuit, finding absolutely nothing that needed to be fished out, he headed for the supply closet and dragged the reel with the pool cover along. He hummed quietly to himself as he set up the reel, activating the motor to get the cover moving across the water. Ohno helped guide the cover along, securing it at the opposite end. Sometimes he wondered what it would feel like to lie in the middle of the cover, if it would be like a waterbed or something.
Once the pool was covered he slipped his sandals on and got to work in the shower room, spraying it down with the hose and walking through the chemically soapy water. He could probably lie, initial the sheet and say he'd thoroughly scrubbed down the facilities, but the earlier he left his own tasks the more he had to help clean up the rest of the hotel. It was far easier to deal with the chemical smell or clean someone's hair out of a drain than to listen to the people in the hallways who wouldn't go into their rooms.
Ohno understood the last-minute panic. After nine years of it he thought he'd be used to it, the sound of the staff coaxing people into their rooms, the obvious commotion outside the hotel as some guests tried to elude the staff and the Self-Defense guys. But 7:00 PM came every night, and the staff psychologists always said it was the "bargaining" stage, that it was normal.
"Hey there!"
Ohno turned with the hose in hand, nearly slipping on the tile at the sight of the person who'd joined him in the shower room. He accidentally sprayed the guy's slacks and shoes, wincing before he managed to get the thing off. "I'm sorry."
The guy was drenched from the waist down, scratching his hair in annoyance. "Ah, crap! I knew I should have waited until you were done."
Now that Ohno had turned the hose off and was completely out of cleaning mode, he recognized the guy. "From lunchtime...Aiba-san?"
He grinned despite being covered in soap. "I was heading back to the Village, but I thought I'd say hi."
Ohno sloshed through the water a bit to hang the hose back up. "I'm really sorry."
"No, it's alright. My fault. Is your shift over?"
He shook his head. "No, once I clean the pool I help everyone else..." He stared at the new employee curiously. "But uh, do you need help or something?"
Aiba had a kind face, and Ohno was kind of sad to see him. People never really knew what they were getting into when they signed on at Paradise Circus, and Ohno knew that as well as anyone. He wondered how long it would be before Aiba's kindness became depression, or worse, apathy.
"Well, I could use a change of clothes. And some dinner, but I don't have any food yet. I was kind of hoping I could find someone back in the Village I could eat with, I mean, I'd pay them back of course. But if you have things to do here..."
He was supposed to be checking rooms with the rest of the staff, cleaning up some of the furniture from the patio outside, but Aiba was new. Ohno was probably the last person anyone needed as a mentor, and returning to the Village early was always frowned upon. But he could always write it off as helping a new employee get settled.
"Just let me wrap things up, okay?"
Aiba, still dripping wet, smiled and exited the shower room, leaving Ohno to finish up his duties. Once he was done cleaning, he changed out of his trunks and sandals and into his jeans and sneakers. He initialed the board - it was just his and Maru's initials most of the time anyhow, it wasn't like people checked up on them much - and found Aiba waiting for him. They headed out one of the rear staff entrances. The last thing they needed to do was head out through the lobby especially when it was lockdown time.
They wandered down the grassy slope, and the sun had already set. They heard a horrible scream come from the direction of the Midway, and Aiba grabbed hold of his arm in terror. "What the hell was that?" the guy asked him, seeming unashamed of his fright.
You know what that is, Ohno wanted to say, but what was the point in being mean? Again, it was Aiba-san's very first day. He hadn't done this for nine long years of his life yet. "Someone doesn't want to go to their room," he said in reply, and Aiba let him go.
"I see."
They continued the walk to the Village in silence, finally spotting the lights on in the various houses. Ohno had lived in House 3 for all nine years. Sometimes people swapped to other buildings if they started dating someone or if they didn't get along with their housemates, but Ohno never had. His room was comfortable, and everything was in its right place. Let everyone else move, he figured.
"I'm in House 7," Aiba said, gesturing across the lawn to one of the other buildings. "What about you?"
"Number 3."
"Oh, that's too bad."
"Why don't you go change and come to the House 3 kitchen? I'll make some dinner."
Aiba found that agreeable, and as the Self-Defense Force patrolled the grounds and the last howling guests were herded into the hotel, Ohno rummaged through his cupboard space and fridge space. There were a lot of first shift people in the house, so their dinner dishes were piled up in the sink. Ohno wasn't used to being home so early, but he managed to find a clean wok in Maru's cupboard and got to work. Concentrating on cooking was just as easy as concentrating on cleaning the pool. There was a set routine.
Aiba knocked on the glass outside, waving at Ohno in the kitchen. He gestured for Aiba to come on inside, and he looked even more like a nervous newbie out of his work uniform. "I made fried rice, I hope that's okay," Ohno explained, turning off the burner and digging through Maru's cupboard for some clean plates. Maru was always more diligent about dishes than Ohno was anyhow.
"My parents own a Chinese restaurant. Fried rice is more than okay."
It was the second meal they'd shared that day, and Aiba seemed exhausted. Ohno knew they started orientation earlier and earlier to avoid it clashing too much with guest arrivals. It was just after 8:00 PM when the siren in the courtyard went off.
Aiba looked up at him, confused.
"They sound it when all the guests are in their rooms. They'll sound it again just after midnight. When all the guests are...well..."
Aiba's face turned pale.
"You get used to it," Ohno explained calmly, even as his heart raced. You never got used to it.
---
They were probably sounding the siren by now, Jun thought as he settled down at the living room table with his plate. He had first rotation again in the morning, so it was kind of a late dinner for him. But through no fault of his own. He'd gotten home at 1730 hours after hitting the gym, punching the bag to clear his head. But the apartment had been empty so he'd delayed dinner for an hour to wait. And then another hour before his stomach had started to rumble.
There was nothing on TV tonight, but they'd been showing reruns of some drama from the 90s that Higashiyama Noriyuki had been in. It was like all of the TV stations in the Tokyo area were trying to outdo one another with their tributes to him, airing every single drama the guy'd appeared in, every single movie. Channel One had even gotten the rights to air some videotaped stage play Higashiyama had done in the 80s. Jun settled on a cooking show, envying the chefs as he dug into his pasta with canned sauce. The lateness of his meal had made him settle for something boring and overly processed.
He was just finishing up when he heard the key in the lock, and he turned the volume down on the TV as the door opened. "I'm late, I know. I'm really sorry."
Jun shrugged, even though it would be obvious to anyone how irritated he was. "There's plenty left to heat up. Should microwave fine."
"Ah, I already ate."
He got to his feet, grabbing his plate and heading for the sink. Typical. "There's nothing on TV. You can go ahead and play if you want to."
Nino was hanging his jacket up in the closet, looking embarrassed. "I said I'm sorry. I didn't know you were going to cook anything."
Jun turned the sink on. "I'll put some in a container. You can bring it for lunch tomorrow."
"Jun-kun, really..."
"Look," he said, interrupting him as the water grew hot on his fingers as he scrubbed his plate with the sponge. "Just send me a message next time. It takes ten seconds, and then I won't wonder where you are."
"I was working late," Nino insisted. But then again, Jun thought, Nino had been working late a lot the past few months. He was pretty sure Nino was a decent employee, but the hole-in-the-wall movie theater couldn't possibly need him to work overtime this much. Not with the way Nino had described his miserly boss.
It was pointless to speculate about what Nino had actually been up to. If he had drinks with friends, he came home smelling like beer and smoke. If he went to the arcade, he came home smelling like sweat. He never came home smelling like he'd been intimate with anyone else, never any telltale signs like someone else's cologne or freshly showered from a quick stop at a love hotel. Nino was loyal as far as Jun knew, and they hadn't been together long enough for Jun to really insist upon it.
Jun just hated being kept in the dark.
He felt Nino in his space then, thin but warm with his arm around Jun's middle. "Let me wash the dishes for you. You need to sleep."
"I know I need to sleep."
"I'm trying to avoid a fight here," Nino said, shutting the faucet off.
Jun turned to look at him. Nino was shorter than him, but what he lacked in size he made up for in his attitude and in his eyes. And his eyes were insisting that he was sorry. Jun was used to the military life, to everything having clear cut reasoning and order. Nino was the only disorder he allowed himself, and even after two years it still drove him crazy.
He bent down, opening the cabinet under the sink to pull out a brand new box of scouring pads. He set it down on the countertop with emphasis. "Use these on the pan, or I will kill you."
"You can probably kill me in a hundred ways," Nino said with his eyebrow raised. "It's why I like you so much."
The tension vanished as it always did. Or as Jun always allowed it to.
He headed for their bedroom, shedding his clothes and slipping under the covers. Nino would stay up late with his nerdy little headset on, blowing people's heads off in whatever game he was into now. Jun had to content himself with the scent of Nino in the sheets and on the pillowcases, drifting off for a few hours of peace before it started all over again.
---
OFFICIAL TRANSCRIPT
CHANNEL ONE - EVENING NEWS BROADCAST
FREEDOM SEGMENT
AIRED 17 APRIL 2012 - 23:16-23:25
MURAO NOBUTAKA, ANCHOR: It's time for Sakurai Sho with the nightly Freedom segment of our broadcast. Sakurai-san, good evening.
SAKURAI SHO, CORRESPONDENT: Good evening, Murao-san.
MURAO: Yesterday's heroes have brought us this new day, and we honor them.
SAKURAI: We certainly do, Murao-san. In less than forty minutes another group of heroes will join the brave men, women, and children who came before them. Tonight I'd like to highlight the contributions of one of yesterday's heroes, Morita Aya.
(BEGIN PHOTO MONTAGE)
SAKURAI: (narration) Morita Aya-san was born and raised in Shimonoseki, Yamaguchi Prefecture. For the past fifteen years, Morita-san has taught mathematics at Yumegaoka Junior High School where she was named Teacher of the Year four years in a row...
---
Ohno-san had had a bottle of tequila in his room. It was against protocol. Beer was okay, but hard liquor was frowned upon at least while they were living in the Village. But Ohno had told him that everyone broke protocol. "As long as everyone who has to die at midnight dies, who cares?" Ohno had said, and Aiba was glad he was drunk enough to let the man's remark roll off him.
Ohno had passed out in the room, and Aiba had helped him into bed, pulling a blanket over him. He half-stumbled down the steps and out of House 3. The night was pitch black, and there was only some sparse lighting in the courtyard. He tried counting the buildings to figure out which one was his, but every time he tried to remember a number past five he lost count.
It was his first day, the end of his first day, and he was kind of a mess. But there was plenty of light up on the hill coming from the hotel. Sober Aiba would have gone straight to his room, but Drunken Aiba wasn't having it. Not yet. He needed to know, needed to see for himself.
The top floors were mostly dark for now. Ohno had explained it to him over dinner, the stuff that was only alluded to in orientation. It was probably why the night had led to tequila anyhow. 7:00 PM was when free rein on the grounds ended, and all the employees on second shift mobilized to get all 100 guests in their rooms. It was absolutely necessary because the rooms were soundproofed and sealed for good at 9:00.
The time between lockdown and 9:00 was when dinner trays were brought up. Some tried to get out then, too, but that's why the staff member bringing the dinner was always accompanied by someone from the Self-Defense Force. So the meals were dropped off, and they were all sealed up inside. They weren't like prison cells, though, Ohno said. They were hotel rooms with nice beds and bathrooms and TV sets.
Nobody got frisked on the buses or when they arrived. So Ohno explained that some ended it early with a razor or pills they'd smuggled in with them. It was messier, of course, but what did it matter? Otherwise sleeping gas was piped in to each room around 11:30 PM before the other gas at midnight. Quick, painless, efficient.
Aiba stumbled into the hotel lobby. Murakami Shingo-kun who had replaced Naka-san at the front desk was gone. He was out of uniform, drunk, and alone, and he headed for the reading room. He'd done a half-assed job of tidying up earlier that evening before wandering off and finding Ohno-san in the pool. He'd wanted to get the hell out and get back to the Village. But now he was back, the urge to be in the building when it happened overwhelming him.
That morning he'd signed all the forms, full of coffee and pastries and feeling proud of himself as he'd written down his mother and father and brother and sister-in-law. So it was worth it, right? It was worth it because he was doing it for their sake, doing it so they'd have a ten year reprieve. Ten years without the possibility of them ending up in one of the rooms on the floors above him, frightened and terribly, horribly alone at the very end.
And for the next ten years, Aiba would be here on these grounds, in this hotel, perpetual witness to the execution of one hundred people every day so Japan might remain free.
He was sobbing by the time he made it to the reading room, vision blurry and snot running down his face as he stumbled against the doorframe. He wasn't alone. There was a young woman in the room on a step-stool, placing a book up on one of the higher shelves. First shift in the reading room, Kanjiya-san.
She hopped off the stool, and Aiba's head was swimming as he sunk down to the floor. She was in uniform (his was still soapy and soaked and he'd just left it in his tub, he thought wearily), the sweater vest and skirt. She had dark hair piled up in a messy little bun on top of her head, and when she crouched down next to him, there were two of her until he blinked a few times. She had dark, beautiful eyes. He suddenly wanted to get very, very lost in them.
"My goodness," she said sternly. "Aiba-san."
"How...how did you..."
"Aiba-san," she grumbled. "You can't be here like this, someone will see."
"I want to know," he slurred at her, seeing her recoil a bit in disgust at the smell of alcohol on his breath. "I wanted to be here."
"You'll have ten years of this," she said, sounding a little kinder. "Believe me."
"I should help you with the books..."
"I can finish the books in the morning." She got back to her feet and held out her hand. "Come on, you have to go to the Village."
"No," he mumbled.
"They've fired people for less than this, and then where the hell would you be, huh?" she said. "Come on, up. Up, I said."
He took her hand, and she hauled him up with a groan. He towered over her, but he learned that looks could be deceiving because she was already pulling him along, hand tight around his wrist.
"I want to see."
"No," she said. "You don't."
Then they were outside again, and he was embarrassed. Ohno-san was supposed to be on the second shift, but he'd left early and made Aiba dinner. And now Kanjiya-san, who was filling in for what would eventually be Aiba's job, was leaving her own post. He was not exactly making good first impressions on his co-workers.
"We're in the same house," she said, having no trouble navigating them down to the Village and getting the door open. Thankfully there was nobody in the kitchen, and they headed up the stairs, her grip on him never loosening. He realized why she was so strong. Ohno-san was probably stronger than he looked too. Second shift had to help clean up the rooms after midnight.
They'd gotten strong carrying body bags.
He nearly threw up at the thought, but Kanjiya-san was a woman on a mission, and she dragged him right to his door. "For future reference, that's me," she said, nodding her head at the door just opposite his. Well, that certainly explained why she knew exactly where he lived. "Key?"
"Uhhh..."
"Well. Pardon me then," she said before boldly shoving her hand in the pocket of his jeans and finding his key with little trouble. She managed to get the door open, and he managed not to lose his dinner all over her. "In, you can do it."
He stumbled over to his bed, landing hard on his stomach. His room was still an unpacked mess on account of his evening with Ohno-san, but everything was spinning and he didn't much care. He could worry about that in the morning.
She was sitting on the floor next to his bed, staring at him a moment later. "Aiba-san."
"Mmm?"
"4:00 PM tomorrow. Don't be late."
"Yes," he muttered.
"No more tequila on a work night, you hear me?"
"Yes."
And suddenly the room was dark, and she was gone. The siren went off in the courtyard again, and this time he knew what it meant.
---
In the first few years of his contract, he'd done a lot more with his days off. It was always strange to leave the Village and the barbed wire behind, to turn his back on Paradise Circus and rejoin society. Even now he still felt like more of a tourist than anything else. In the early days he'd go all the way into the city, catch a movie, find a cozy enough bar. Sometimes his days off coincided with someone else's from work, and they'd try to get him to go places.
His male co-workers would drag him to the clubs in Roppongi. They'd say "Oh-chan, all we have to say is where we work, and they'll have sex with us, I guarantee it." And it was usually true. He'd picked up dozens of girls that way, and he'd only been more annoyed once he got back inside the barbed wire. It wasn't like they could follow him back. It was hard to get a second date when you only got let out two days a month. None of it went anywhere. Sex with strangers lost its appeal after a few years.
And female co-workers were worse. They already knew where he worked, so they wanted to be wined and dined. They'd say "Oh-chan, I want to forget for a little while," and even if a nice dinner ended with a hotel visit, the next day they'd be in uniform, eyes meeting across the room as they cleaned up a dead person's belongings. Needless to say, one of the things Ohno looked forward to the most when his contract ended was a normal relationship.
He'd never actually realized how appealing it would be to see the same woman day in, day out with no baggage, just love and companionship. To wake up in the morning, go to work, come home and have someone waiting there to greet him. He supposed this was the life Paradise Circus made possible in the first place. It still came at a hefty price.
So now on his days off, Ohno didn't let a co-worker rope him in. He did some grocery shopping, went fishing if he could. He'd been 21 when he'd signed on, and his parents always welcomed him home. The house was exactly the same, preserved in time, his bedroom too. His parents shared a similar life philosophy - if you're comfortable, don't change a thing.
Today was a day off, and his mother was making sukiyaki while his father sat in the living room watching golf. Even when his job was frustrating, even when his job was horrifying, he knew that his mom and dad were safe. Being home confirmed it all the more. If they felt grateful for what he'd done, signing up for Paradise Circus, they'd never said so aloud. It didn't really need to be said.
But his parents could read a calendar. Even if time in the Ohno household seemed to have stopped, the outside world hadn't. He had two months left, four days off. It seemed like his mother cooked him nicer and nicer meals when he stopped by. As if his contract would end and the very next day the letter would arrive in the mailbox. It wasn't likely, not statistically, but even so, the directionless kid who'd given up on art school would be home soon for good. A 31 year old lifeguard with little ambition.
"Satoshi," his mother said, her voice drifting from the kitchen along with the delicious smell of a home-cooked meal. "I can get you some boxes next time to take back if you need some boxes."
"That's okay," he called back. "They'll have boxes at work."
Soon he'd have to think about packing up his room in House 3. Not that he had much. Some of his housemates really went to town on decorating their spaces, making it home. They had book shelves and hot plates and drawers full of clothes. Ohno figured he could get everything into two or three boxes, tops.
He wondered what it would be like to live in his parents' house again. He had little choice in the matter. He was paid decently enough, so it wasn't a matter of not having the means to get his own place somewhere. But after living so long surrounded by other people, sharing kitchen space and having staff to clean his bathroom and vacuum his room, he doubted he was ready for any measure of independence. And given the current state of his room here at home, he could move right back in as though nothing had changed.
"Food is ready!"
He set down his sketchpad, just as blank as it had been two hours ago when he'd thought to pass the time with doodling, and followed his father to the dining room.
Dinner was usually a quiet affair when it was his day off. It was kind of like his parents just enjoyed having him at the table with them, sharing the meal together. Ohno liked it that way too. Sometimes he zoned out, worried about stuff he had to do once he got back to work, but other times he really paid attention. He'd stare at his mother's steady hands as she spooned out portions onto his dad's plate and his before ever serving herself. He watched the way his dad's jaw moved while he munched on something a little too chewy.
He wondered if they watched him too, wondered if they remembered him how he was before he left. He'd been grouchy, selfish. He'd barely finished high school through a correspondence program, had only gotten accepted to art school on talent, but everyone else at school always cared more than he did. They wanted to stay late and focus. He only did art for fun, not a career. He never knew what had really compelled him to go to the government office that day, to ask for an application. And he wondered what the hell they'd seen in him that made him look like a decent enough candidate for Paradise.
After almost ten years, he still had no idea.
"Would you like some more barley tea, Satoshi?"
He blinked, seeing his mother's patient face as she held out her hand for his glass.
"Ah, sure."
When dinner was done, he bid his parents farewell, taking the long walk back to the train station. His family lived to the west of Nerima, far from the center of Tokyo where they rounded people up. No matter where you lived in Japan, you had to report to the Shinjuku bus terminal at the date and time noted on the letter. It had to be weird working anywhere near there, seeing the people boarding the buses there early in the morning. His parents, luckily, were far from that. Paradise didn't touch them much aside from the nightly news or the list of names in the paper.
The train car was half empty, and he stood with his hand loosely holding the plastic ring overhead. Japan was such a normal country otherwise. The trains ran, people commuted to and from their jobs. Kids went to school, art school even if they really cared. And people like Ohno got off the train, picked up a few things from the grocery store, and phoned for an escort - the Self-Defense Force jeep arrived in ten minutes to take him back behind the barbed wire for another two weeks.
---
Q: What foreign language did you take in school?
A: I have to say, I went to a fairly liberal high school in the late 1980's. Some of my friends were stuck between the usual Mandarin and Russian at their schools, but they let us try Cantonese, Korean. It was a good school, too, and lots of graduates went on to Todai, Waseda, the really big name universities. So having that diversity was interesting.
As for me, I went with Russian. I was a little naive back then, and I thought if I was this master of Russian and Japanese that I could go places. The Soviets were starting to undergo regime change then, so we all thought that maybe we'd be allowed to go to Moscow, to Leningrad for some work study. We thought things would ease up. The economy was really taking off here. Japan had a lot to offer the world, maybe the Big Two would see that in us.
We were all ambitious, us kids graduating then. We'd been so diligent as a people, hadn't we? Twenty-five years of Paradise without fail, so there'd been no Soviet bombs. No Chinese bombs. We weren't fighting back, we hadn't ever fought back. But it didn't matter. The bubble burst, the government didn't dare rock the boat, and here we are now. Still offering daily sacrifices to these superpowers who don't give a damn about us.
Q: You don't think the Chinese or Russian governments would do anything if Paradise stopped? You don't think they'd carry out their threats against us?
A: After fifty years? Of course they don't care. They probably laugh themselves silly knowing we're still offering up lives to them. We're the only ones not in on the joke here. It's like we're dogs at the pound, doing any tricks we can, giving paw and rolling over in the hopes we don't all get put down.
But it's been a no-kill shelter for years, and we aren't willing to believe it.
From Our Stories: The History of the Riser Movement, Interview - Hatori Shinichi.
---
It had started off as a joke. This star-crossed, forbidden love shit. He wished he'd never said anything, wished he'd never even hinted about what Jun did for a living. It was probably a bad idea to go drinking with members of the shadowy underground organization you were a member of, an even worse idea to drop the bomb that the person you were seeing worked for the Self-Defense Force.
Of course, at first he hadn't expected the thing with Jun to go anywhere. He wasn't out, for one thing, not that a lot of people were, but Jun was especially not out because he didn't dare jeopardize his position. So Nino had thought that they'd meet up like old buddies, do one of those cloak and dagger routines to avoid being seen entering the same hotel, and then get off at the thought of how well they'd avoided getting caught. And then they'd grow tired of each other and would go their separate ways, start up the closeted song and dance with someone else down the line.
It hadn't worked that way. Jun was different. He wasn't "the one" or anything. Nino had never been sentimental enough to think like that about anyone he'd ever been in a relationship with, but Jun was pretty damn close. For one thing, Nino had never been interested in shacking up with someone he was seeing. He liked to keep romance and personal time separate.
But within a year, he found himself wanting to wake up and see Jun there. Wanted to know that he could go to work and have all the alone time he wanted and then go home to expend all his social energy with the one person who (mostly) understood him. Jun was obviously a soldier stereotype, meticulous and careful and always thinking about what he had to do next where Nino had always been better at letting things happen as they may. And yet Jun didn't seem to care. Jun didn't try to change him. Sure, he offered "helpful suggestions" but he mostly let Nino be.
Jun cooked. Jun cleaned. Jun was just a genuinely kind person, way more than Nino deserved. So Nino had made the mistake of bragging about him one night, about his special someone in the Self-Defense Force and now it was a huge problem.
Because Jun had gotten his promotion, and somehow they'd all found out. They'd hit the jackpot, hadn't they? They hated everything Paradise Circus stood for. They'd worked tirelessly for years to find a way to crack the system, to find a way in the gates. And now one of their members was living with someone who worked on the inside.
He was on his way to a gathering now after work. Three showings of Toda Erika's I Still Remember had filled him with his usual rage, and he was all set to denounce the government with the rest. It was how it had been forever, lots of talking and little action. But now when he showed up there'd be eyes on him, people staring. "That's Ninomiya, that's the one who can get us in."
So for eight months they'd hounded him, asked him if Jun talked about work. It was bad enough that Nino hid this from Jun and had been hiding this part of himself from the beginning. The police and the Self-Defense Force were always trying to track down the Japan Will Rise Again movement. Hell, it had only been five years ago that a huge ring had been busted in Nagoya, trying to send in their own associates in place of some of the Paradise Circus "guests." It was the worst thing the Risers had done since the 90's when there'd been the plot to blow up Hamamatsucho bus terminal, keep the buses from going out to the Circus. They'd moved transport to Shinjuku and quadrupled the security.
Now they met in pockets, yammering and bitching and full of righteous anger towards a system they couldn't change. By being a member, Nino was breaking the law. And in the last eight months he'd become a full-blown hypocrite. He denounced Paradise in daylight and fucked someone who enforced it by night.
He wasn't sure why he still bothered to go. They'd keep pestering him, begging for any snippets of info. Even something as mundane as the names of any co-workers Jun mentioned. He was increasingly frustrated. Paradise had to stop. There was no point. The Russians had calmed down, maybe the Chinese would one of these years. They didn't need to be appeased any longer. If it was anyone else in the organization involved with someone that close to Paradise, he would be calling for blood too. In all these years they'd never gotten anyone embedded, and the ones who'd tried had disappeared and never come back.
So if Nino followed his mind, followed logic, followed his unwavering belief that Paradise Circus was an unnecessary institution, that Japan was not going to be nuked into nothingness by the Big Two if they ended it - if he followed that, it only made sense to exploit his relationship with Jun. But for the past eight months, Nino had followed his heart, had let whatever Jun was to him mean more than everything else he stood for, had fought for.
And it frightened him.
Maybe that was why he kept going. Maybe if he let them nag him enough he'd give in, start pressing Jun for little bits of information. He was already a liar. The relationship was out of balance, and Jun was starting to notice. Nino was staying out more, attending more gatherings, and Jun was getting hurt. If he actually loved Jun, he'd break up with him instead of lying to him over and over again.
He walked through the door, seeing they had a decent crowd tonight. Thirty, maybe fifty people wandered around in suits and nametags. Nino had to wear a dinky vest and black slacks for work at the Vista, and it was as close as he had to a suit that wasn't the one he wore to funerals. He wrote "Higashiyama Noriyuki" on his name tag with a Sharpie and tossed the marker back on the table.
Everybody knew who he was. Even if he didn't know everyone else at the gatherings, he had some measure of infamy now. And the name tags and suits meant that if the cops busted in there was nothing to arrest them for. This was, after all, just a job fair. Even now a woman walked by with a briefcase, handing out fake resumes to everyone so they'd have some in hand during the meeting.
It was always informal on account of how half-assed they were as a social movement. Nagoya had taken the wind out of their sails, the senior members were growing older and didn't give two shits if they were picked in the lottery, and the younger members were all talk. It was mostly just PowerPoints and new encryption codes for their message boards.
There'd been professional hackers in the Riser movement back in the day, but most of the good ones had gotten arrested. Now they just had high school nerds, guys who dropped out of computer science programs. They were good at working around the Internet firewalls, finding out what people on the Chinese equivalent message boards were saying. They could find hidden microphones and listening devices. But nobody could break into government stuff anymore, not with the people they had working for Paradise.
The meeting commenced, as expected, with a PowerPoint presentation. Everyone sat, looking disgruntled, even though Nino knew they'd be off for dinner with the wife and kids or a drink with their friends soon after. Like normal, law-abiding citizens. But the air in the room was more hushed than usual, Nino noticed as soon as he took a seat. The disgruntled looks were there, but there was something else in everyone's eyes. Nino hadn't checked the message board that day - maybe he should have. Their eyes were full of hope.
The presenter clicked to the first slide, and Nino's eyes widened.
REGIME CHANGE COMING TO CHINA?
part three