United States of Japan (5 page)

                              10:15AM

Downtown Los Angeles was full of tall buildings and a city hall that was architecturally based on the Imperial Castle in Osaka. Huge portical screens displayed advertisements and newsreels of various victories in the Empire’s war efforts. A massive mecha that was fifty meters tall and shaped like a man in a samurai suit patrolled the streets. Its mobility was limited so that it didn’t cause too much of a commotion when it moved, rolling via the massive wheels under its feet. Soldiers in rocket packs glided next to the mecha on routine patrols. There were a few people heading to restaurants for an early lunch.

Claire Mutsuraga’s apartment was in an eighty story high-rise. There was already a guard at the door and the interior of the apartment was a mess, having been searched earlier by the police. It was a three-bedroom unit, with wood floors and what had once been brand new furniture, though the sofas and mattresses had been ripped open by the police. There were several marble statues, fancy French paintings, and a holographic projector in the middle of the living room.

“Pretty ritzy place for a student,” Ben noted. “I guess that’s the perks of having a general for your dad.”

He saw a series of picture frames and remembered the general’s face. Mutsuraga was the game designer who had made the
Honor of Death
series, one of the most revered franchises in portical gaming. He saw Mutsuraga’s last few games on her wall, massive hits covering the Chinese Rice Insurrection and the Korean Civil War.

“What was your relationship to the general?” Agent Tsukino asked.

“I served under him.”

“Did you like your service?”

“Mutsuraga was a legend among gamers. I was honored to serve him.” Ben scratched an itch on the side of his wrist. “He was the most decorated officer in his class and we were all told to follow his example.” There were pictures of the general at his own graduation on the wall surrounded by officers congratulating him. Mutsuraga was invited to be part of the elite student group, Sumera (a play on the Japanese word for Emperor as well as a reference to the first known civilization, Sumeria), straight from Tokyo Military Academy, which was a big deal.

“You didn’t do a good job,” Agent Tsukino said. “When he was teaching there, he had you reprimanded multiple times for being lazy and undisciplined.”

“He was a harsh teacher.”

“He was harsh because he was one of our best. He served with distinction in Mexico and was a brilliant tactician,” she said.

“Of course. And after the armistice, he founded Shudarin Design Works and created some of the best war simulations in the Empire. Everyone wanted to work at Shudarin, and not just because of the amazing perks.”

“You’re familiar with his games then?”

“Very,” Ben answered. “I helped him on some of them. Minor stuff that was mostly thrown out because of sloppy coding.”

Ben examined another picture of Mutsuraga and his daughter on a fishing excursion. Claire looked unhappy and bored.

“I’ve read the reports of his wife’s accidental death in San Diego,” Akiko said. “Our soldiers bombed a civilian market that was mistakenly reported as a rebel stronghold. Media reported it as a terrorist attack, but everyone within the corps knew the truth.”

“It was a confusing time.”

“Did you know her death caused a massive escalation of the conflict?” Akiko asked, not so much to verify the facts, but to collate their knowledge.

“Like I said, it was a confusing time.”

“The records are very spotty. Mutsuraga was eventually relieved from his position, something that seems highly unusual. A military officer removed during wartime? But no explanations are given. Anything you’d like to add to the official line?”

“You’re talking about matters above my pay grade. I was only a lieutenant then.”

“And you were sent away as well with Claire.”

“The general asked me to take care of her. I did my best.”

“A few years after that, Mutsuraga tried to develop a game with a non-Japanese protagonist, showing the San Diego invasion from their perspective. It was a ludicrous effort at empathizing with the natives. There was another game about a kamikaze pilot who had doubts about his mission and, at the last moment, decided to refrain from the act.”

“I’ve never heard of either.”

“That’s because they were censored,” she said. “Rather than cause a scandal and be arrested, he was given the option of going into retirement or committing
seppuku
. To the chagrin of many of his superiors, he chose retirement. But he secretly began development on a new game.”

“
United States of America
?”

She nodded. “It’s a cancer.”

“Fortunately, we’ve eliminated cancer.”

“Except from the mind.”

Akiko went to a desk and picked up a portical. Their triangular edges had been shorn off, indicating they were separated from the EKS. “Claire Mutsuraga’s portical.”

She handed it to Ben, but Ben looked at the bed, which was covered with plastic from forensics to seal it off from contamination.

“Is that where she did it?”

Akiko shook her head. “In the bathroom.”

Ben walked to the bathroom.

“It’s already been cleared,” Akiko said.

It was a tiled cube of normalcy, designs of furry beasts on the wall, dry towels, clumps of fallen hair collecting in the sink.

“In the bath tub?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Was there anything unusual about her death?” Ben wanted to know.

“Unusual?”

“Anything to indicate it was anything but suicide?”

“No. I checked thoroughly. So did forensics.”

Ben placed his fist against his mouth, closed his eyes, and fought back memories. “She deserved better.”

“Did she?”

“Yes.”

“Was your relationship with her romantic?”

“What? Not at all. I told you, she was like a sister to me. She’s a lot younger than me.”

“According to the ages of some of your previous liaisons, age disparity has never been an issue.”

He did his best to suppress his indignation. “Who’s handling her funeral?”

“Apparently, you.”

Ben’s mind went back ten years to when Mutsuraga first asked him to look after Claire in San Diego. That was just before everything went to hell and she could still sneak out in the evenings and be safe. Ben assumed she was either meeting a love interest or partying it up in the streets of San Diego. He didn’t expect to find her at an assembly hall filled with Americans who worshipped their Christian God. Claire was part of the choir and they were singing hymnals up front. When he joined the congregation, they welcomed him, saying, “Greetings brother.”

Ben found the words of the music ridiculously puerile with their adulation for a fictional being. Still, he admired how melodic it sounded. They cried out to their fallen God, begging for succor. Many were penitent, arms up in the air, praying for redemption. Ben zoned out when a preacher shared a soporific message on showing love to their Japanese conquerors. He caught Claire on her way out.

She bowed, surprised by his presence. “Ishimura-san. What are you doing here?” she asked.

His first reaction was to ask,
Do you know how much trouble you would be in if your father found out?
But he presumed that would be counteractive and only incur teenage defiance. “Just curious what you were up to.”

“You mean my dad sent you?”

“He did ask me to keep tabs on you.” He looked at the statue of Christ on a cross. “You really believe in this stuff?” he asked.

Claire, who had been expecting a stern rebuke, answered, “Not all of it. But it’s a powerful message.”

“In what way?”

“They tell us to love our enemies,” Claire answered. “‘Do not repay anyone evil for evil. If your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink.’”

“No wonder the Americans lost.”

Claire took umbrage at his response. “The winners aren’t always right.”

“Sorry. I just really don’t understand their value system.”

He was being sincere and she admitted in turn, “There are things about their beliefs I find unbelievable too.”

“Like?”

“Jesus says forgive everything. But I think certain sins are unforgivable.”

“Like what?”

“Murder. Crimes against the dead can only be forgiven by the victim. If the victim isn’t alive, the crime isn’t forgivable.”

“I agree,” Ben said. “How did you find out about this place?”

“Mom goes here from time to time,” Claire replied.

Ben’s eyes widened. “Does your father know?”

She shook her head. “It’s where she comes to clear her mind.”

“She knows you’re here?”

“No. She’s not home.”

“Where is she?”

“I don’t know.”

He wondered what Mutsuraga would think knowing his wife and daughter both attended an American worship service. “I should get you home.”

Claire did not object and they walked towards the subway. Ben glanced at her from the side and saw that her posture, firm gait, and neutral gaze bore similarities with her father. As they got closer to the station, they heard a loud commotion. Hundreds of Americans were protesting and a group of Japanese soldiers in riot gear blocked the road. They were arrayed in a phalanx, shields in place, guns holstered as of the moment. A mecha was in position and two scouters flew above, beaming large spotlights down at the crowd, which was swelling in outrage.

“What are they protesting?” Claire asked.

“Two of our soldiers shot an American kid,” Ben informed her. “They’re upset. We should hurry.”

They both accelerated their pace.

“Dad says I should learn more about programming porticals from you,” Claire said.

“I guess I can teach you a thing or two.”

“Is it true what everyone says about you?”

“What do they say?”

“That you turned in your parents when you found out they were going to betray the Empire?”

“It’s true,” Ben answered, and showed no discomfort in acknowledging it.

Claire stopped in her tracks. “How could you do that?”

“Why wouldn’t I? They were planning to work for the Americans and turn over our secrets.”

“How’d you find out?”

“I overheard them talking about it.”

“Did you try to ask them what was going on?” Claire asked.

“I don’t think they would have told me. I listened when I could and memorized everything they said. I went to report it after I realized they were really going to go through with it.”

“You’re so casual about it. They were your parents.”

“It wasn’t easy,” Ben said, and his fingers twitched. “I still miss them. But I had to do what was right.”

“What was your parents’ reaction when they found out?”

“I don’t know. After I reported it to the police, I didn’t see them again. Not until they were dead.”

“So you’re real hardcore about this stuff, huh? Most loyal servant of the Emperor?”

“I try,” Ben said weakly. “I guess I committed one of your unforgivable sins.”

“You want to come to church next week with me and confess?”

“Are you making fun of me?”

“No, no, not at all,” Claire said. “I mean it.”

Behind, they heard the protests intensify and there was a loud burst that sounded like an explosion. Claire and Ben hurried down the steps to the stairway. Red warning lights were flashing. The gates sealed off just as they went through. They caught the last subway before the whole place locked down.

“Why do you waste your time with these superstitions?” Ben asked.

“It’s not the superstitious elements I’m drawn to,” Claire said. “It’s the way this creed gives them strength and keeps them bound to a set of values that is humane and honorable. I wonder what the world would be like if the Americans were still an important part of it.”

“Not all the Americans are honorable and humane. And, honestly, I don’t know how safe it is for you to be with so many American dissidents. I know there haven’t been any incidents yet, but tempers are boiling.”

“They don’t know who my dad is and they wouldn’t care if they did. They only view me as a vessel of God,” she said.

Ben found her faith worrisome. “Not all the Americans there are Christians,” he said. “A lot of them use the religion as a means of organizing and hiding their true intent.”

“There are people in the Empire who pretend to serve the Emperor, but don’t care. How is that different?”

“I’m just saying be careful.”

“
Arigatou
,” she said. “I will.”

Claire watched the portical displays on the subway, news showing eruptions of violence from previous encounters in San Diego. “Every time my parents argue, my mom goes to her room and cries,” Claire suddenly said. “I get so frustrated by it. Why doesn’t she fight back? You know how stubborn Dad can be and, even when he’s wrong, he can’t admit it. One day, after he yelled at her for an hour, I had enough and was about to tell her to go stick it right back to him.”

“The way you do.”

“You hear it all too, right? But that day, I found her in her room reading a Bible. It was something her mom gave to her and she told me not to worry about her, that she’d found the strength to persist.”

“Through the Bible?”

“Her beliefs,” Claire replied. “I couldn’t understand her at all. Why bear it when you can change it directly? That’s when she told me about the Christians.”

“Ishimura,” Akiko called in the present.

Ben snapped out of his reverie. “Sorry,” he said.

He took Claire’s portical from Akiko’s hand and left the bathroom. He turned the display on, but it was encrypted, static on the screen.

“You haven’t broken into this yet?” he asked.

“A few of our techs have tried, but every time they connect their portical, they get corrupted.”

“Why don’t you send it to Port Techs?”

“There’s a peripheral leash that prevents us from taking it off the premises without self-destructing.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“I’ve heard you’re quite skilled with porticals.”

“Hardly. I–”