Paradise Circus 1/7
Title: Paradise Circus
Rating: R
Characters/Pairings: Matsumoto Jun/Ninomiya Kazunari and Aiba Masaki/Kanjiya Shihori, with all of Arashi and various cameos of other JE folks and people from the Japanese entertainment industry
Summary: Let me take this opportunity to welcome you to the Paradise Circus Civilian Staff roster. It is our sole purpose to ensure that our guests are treated with the respect they deserve as heroes preserving the freedom of our nation. We're happy to have you aboard for the duration of your service contract. Remember that your efforts ensure the continued peace Japan enjoys.
Notes/Warnings: Alternate history AU set in 2012 Japan. 45,000+ words. I'm too much of a troll to reveal anything else. Includes strong language; sex (non-explicit); mention of suicide; heavy angst - my usual cheerful fare.
OFFICIAL TRANSCRIPT
CHANNEL ONE - EVENING NEWS BROADCAST
FREEDOM SEGMENT
AIRED 14 APRIL 2012 - 23:17-23:28
MURAO NOBUTAKA, ANCHOR: We now turn to Sakurai Sho for the 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 do, indeed, 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, Higashiyama Noriyuki.
(BEGIN PHOTO MONTAGE)
SAKURAI: (narration) Pop idol legend Higashiyama Noriyuki was born in Kawasaki in 1966. Rising through the ranks of the idol agency Playzone, Higashiyama debuted as a member of Our Nation's Voices in 1985. With several number one singles and albums, Our Nation's Voices delivered memorable performances all over Japan. In addition, Higashiyama appeared in numerous television programs, stage plays, and films and was well-known for his diligence, hard work, and incomparable skills. Higashiyama leaves behind an incredible legacy as well as a wife, actress Kimura Yoshino-san, and one child.
(END PHOTO MONTAGE)
(BEGIN VIDEO CLIP)
HIGASHIYAMA NORIYUKI: I have been incredibly blessed over the years, but I have been selected, and to me, there may be no greater honor. So my fans can live another day, I will go. So my son can continue to live in a Japan that knows peace, I will go. Thank you all so much for your support, it has truly been an amazing journey.
(END VIDEO CLIP)
SAKURAI: Higashiyama Noriyuki, a hero ensuring Japan's lasting freedom. He was forty-five years old.
MURAO: I went to a concert by Our Nation's Voices once.
SAKURAI: Oh really?
MURAO: Yes, yes! In 1989 at the Budoukan. You must have been in grade school then, huh?
SAKURAI: You're right!
MURAO: It was mostly teen girls, you understand. (laughs) But being a young man at an idol concert, you see, it makes one popular!
SAKURAI: (laughs) I never thought of it that way!
MURAO: Higashiyama-san, what an incredible talent. Ah, but I'm getting carried away. Sakurai-san, if you will.
SAKURAI: Every night this program ensures that the sacrifices of all heroes are recognized. Yesterday Higashiyama Noriyuki-san was joined in death by ninety-nine others. Let us commence with the reading of the names.
---
PARADISE CIRCUS
---
The air was crisp and chilly as Jun exited the command center and started the walk to the parking lot. Some of the stragglers, growing soft from the months spent on an easier assignment, dragged their feet as they moved through the Midway. In an hour, it would be different. Every man and woman would conduct themselves with dignity and pride, but it seemed to Jun that most of his colleagues didn't flip their duty switches to "on" until that first bus came through the gate.
Jun had risen before the sun at 0430 hours, arriving at 0515 in his civilian clothes. He'd been the first in the locker room, even before the Lieutenant had arrived. He took his assignment seriously, even if it still felt a bit strange to wear camo in a place like this. He was eight months into Paradise Duty, and he didn't understand why he was dressed for battle. There was nothing to fight here. But perhaps the uniforms served as a reminder for guests. The Ground Self-Defense Force was at Paradise Circus to help march them toward inevitability.
So in Jun's mind there was no excuse for looking anything but his best. Boots polished and laced tight, uniform clean and unwrinkled, his sidearm properly holstered (even if it only contained rubber bullets). On other assignments he'd dug through mud to rescue people trapped by landslides. He'd tromped through flooded streets to keep opportunists from looting. Paradise Duty kept his hands clean.
There was the scent of stale cotton candy and salty popcorn drifting down the Midway, and the empty merry-go-round always unnerved him in the early hours. The Midway at rest was an eerie thing, all the lights off and devoid of life. But soon enough the organ would start, the horses would bob up and down, and the ride would turn. The jet coaster would click its way up the short lift hill. The barkers would call out to the guests. Jun would stand and observe.
Everyone assembled in the parking lot. There were usually two buses, and they left the Shinjuku terminal at 0630. The sign at the gate read "Welcome to Paradise Circus" in a script made to resemble a child's sloppy handwriting. The "Welcome Heroes" banners hung all around the lot and throughout the park. Jun stood at attention at 0715 when the first bus rolled through. At his side, Oguri muttered under his breath.
"Bet they would have stayed home if they knew 'Paradise' was just another name for Nerima."
Jun ignored his friend. It wasn't really the time or place for jokes. Especially jokes he made without fail almost every time they pulled first rotation duty. The bus door remained closed, but Jun could see a few faces peering out from behind the window glass. He knew some of them were looking at the high walls that enclosed the facility, the curls of barbed wire atop them ringing the green fields, hotel, and Midway grounds. The second bus arrived five minutes later, and each door opened with a light hiss.
Lieutenant Katori was good at his job. He was good-humored in a way Jun secretly wished he could be, and his face was the first one the guests saw when they stepped out of the buses each day. "Good morning, good morning," he said cheerfully, clipboard in one hand as he waved the quiet men and women out of the buses.
Today was a good day, Katori had said in the command center earlier. The youngest guest on the list was fourteen. Kids made for difficult guests. There was so much they simply couldn't understand. They asked questions. And they would cry when Jun explained that no, they couldn't go home. As soon as all one hundred guests exited from the buses, Katori began the roll call.
The guests raised their hands meekly, obediently, and one by one Katori assigned them to a member of the Self-Defense Force. The Paradise Ground Unit that Jun was part of included twenty men and women each shift - five guests to each member of the unit. Guests were granted enough independence to walk the grounds, but in the eight months Jun had been on Paradise Duty, many seemed content enough to let Jun usher them around most of the day.
Katori sent two old men, a middle-aged woman, and two young men, maybe college aged, over to him. The groups started to depart the parking lot as Jun heard the sounds of the Midway begin. The organ music of the merry-go-round was already reaching his ears as the civilian staff got to their posts. Paradise Circus was open for the day.
"I'm Corporal Matsumoto," he introduced himself calmly. "I'm your escort today. If you have any questions about Paradise Circus, I'll do my best to answer them or find a member of staff who can."
The middle-aged woman was staring at her feet, and the two younger men looked antsy. "We can go on the rides, right?" one of them asked.
"If you wish to walk the grounds independently, I only ask that you check in with me on the hour," Jun explained. "On the Midway, please meet with me by the goldfish catching booth. You are free to use the hotel's facilities as well, and if you're otherwise engaged there, please have a member of staff get in touch with me. You have freedom of the grounds until 7:00 PM sharp. At that time, we ask that you make your way to the hotel."
The young men nodded and headed off together, walking with the same shuffling stroll Jun recognized in most people who arrived at Paradise Circus. The old men informed Jun that they would go to the hotel. The woman said nothing, and Jun approached her cautiously.
"Hello there," he said.
She didn't reply.
"There are lots of things to do here. What kind of activities do you enjoy?" Her shoulders drooped slightly. She was obviously crying. "I imagine it was tough getting on a bus so early in the morning. There's a room for you at the hotel. I'd be happy to walk you there. Or if you'd like to walk through the park there's some lovely flower beds. I watched them plant them a few weeks ago."
"The hotel," she managed to say, and Jun felt rather fortunate to have such an easy morning. Even now he could hear some of the other guests arguing with other members of the Ground Unit, some complaining about the 7:00 PM curfew, others about the need to check in. He matched the woman's pace, slowly leaving the asphalt of the parking lot behind and bypassing the Midway in favor of the cement path that led to the Paradise Hotel.
It was a three-story red brick building, resting at the top of a small hill. As they headed up the path, Jun could see staff hurrying across the grass, looking for people to help. They made their way to the hotel lobby, and he was just about to have the front desk staff escort the woman to her room when she grabbed hold of his sleeve to halt their steps.
"I have three children," she told him.
"I'm very sorry." He wanted to hold her hand, give it a squeeze, but that's what the civilian staff were for. Even then, Riisa at the front desk was walking around to come over and help. "They have materials in the rooms if you wish to write letters to your family."
Riisa was better at this than him. It was her job to be good at it. "Ah, Corporal Matsumoto, good morning."
"Good morning," he said politely. It wasn't his job to smile and be friendly, and he could already tell the woman at his side was relaxing a bit as soon as Riisa came up and wrapped her arm around her shoulders.
"Corporal, we'll be happy to take care of our guest. I'm sure you have important duties to attend to all over the park!"
Even after this many years in the Self-Defense Force, he'd never managed to be this awake and cheerful at 0730 hours. Riisa's perkiness had annoyed him at first, but he'd grown used to it, took some measure of comfort in it. "Thank you very much."
All five guests accounted for, Jun left the hotel and took a long look around. The park to the north with its bright green lawns and colorful flowers, the Midway to the south with its rides and games, the Village to the east with the staff buildings. All of it beautiful. All of it ringed by a wall with barbed wire at the top. Even now the cameras in the command center were pointed at him loitering.
He headed for the Midway to see what rides his younger charges had chosen.
---
Let me take this opportunity to welcome you to the Paradise Circus Civilian Staff roster. It is our sole purpose to ensure that our guests are treated with the respect they deserve as heroes preserving the freedom of our nation.
As a valued member of our team, you serve as the face of gratitude and kindness in their final hours. Making people smile is not always so easy, but through the magic of your thoughtful, courteous, and helpful nature, guests coming through our gates will depart this world for the next peacefully. To run an effective operation takes many qualified, hardworking people. You are a staff member at Paradise Circus because we feel you have good judgment and will use good common sense in the performance of your duties and in your personal conduct.
We're happy to have you aboard for the duration of your service contract. Remember that your efforts ensure the continued peace Japan enjoys.
From the Paradise Circus Civilian Employee Manual, Chapter One: Introduction.
---
Employee orientation had lasted the entire morning. The bus from Chiba City had dropped him off at 10:00 PM the night before where a man in Self-Defense Force gear had come to pick him up from the bus station in a jeep. The moving service had already delivered his stuff which the staff had brought into his room in employee housing. Everything seemed extremely efficient.
There'd been little time to get acquainted with his new home. His room was decently sized, and he had his own en-suite bathroom, but he hadn't unpacked anything yet. He'd just curled up on the mattress with his jacket for a pillow. There were employee rooms on each floor, and kitchen facilities were shared with the other people in the house on the ground floor. It was a squat, two-story white brick building set around a well-manicured patch of grass with several other matching buildings. It reminded Aiba of a summer camp or a set of school dormitories, though the other staff members milling around the grounds were of varying ages.
Guests arrived at Paradise Circus around 7:00 AM, and though there'd been very little direction upon arrival, Aiba had been told to report to the command center for orientation at 6:30 AM. Following orientation he'd be working an afternoon shift with his evening free to get settled in.
The command center itself was a gray building, nondescript save for the cameras and numerous "STAFF ONLY" signs plastered everywhere. He'd been half asleep when he entered, helping himself to some coffee and pastries that had been set out for new employees. The orientation consisted of lots of paperwork. Aiba thought he'd already signed his whole life away when he'd first signed his contract, but there were employee codes of conduct to sign, tax paperwork, and bank stuff for his paycheck.
And of course there'd been the lottery forms. Even now he was worried about how much his hand had been shaking when he'd filled them out, pencilling in the names and identity card numbers for his mother, his father, his brother, and his brother's wife. Ten years. Ten years they'd be okay.
Only two other employees had been in the room for orientation with him. Job openings at Paradise Circus rarely occurred. Most people remained in their contracts for the duration. He and the other two had probably just gotten lucky. After all the paperwork, there'd been videos. The typical sexual harassment ones, of course. Then the government videos they'd shown all the time when he'd been in school. About the war, about the foundation of the Paradise Circus program. He'd found himself paying a lot more attention to the videos now than he had when he was fifteen and more interested in the legs of the girl sitting next to him in class.
They'd finished the videos and received a tour of the grounds. Aiba was already dressed in his staff uniform. Assignments were fairly arbitrary, the man who ran the orientation had explained. New employees were simply placed where there were openings. When other staff members' contracts were up, current employees could lobby for their posts. So for now Aiba was in the basic staff uniform for the Paradise Hotel. The clothes had been laid out on his bed when he'd arrived the night before.
Those working the Midway looked like anyone who'd work at Fuji-Q Highland or some other amusement park. They had blue slacks, white polo shirts, and blue windbreakers. Hotel staff wore black slacks (skirts for the ladies), white dress shirts under a red sweater vest, and a plain black tie. It was fancier than anything Aiba had ever worn for work before, but then again, he'd only worked at the karaoke place and as a waiter at his parents' restaurant, and neither of those places thought ties were necessary.
Even then as they walked the Midway there were a few guests milling about, Self-Defense Force guys behind them. Aiba watched an old lady and a guy in his 30's compete against each other in a ring toss game while two guys in their early 20's were being strapped in to the jet coaster. Aiba was kind of amazed there was a jet coaster in the first place. Fully staffed by a team of four or five as far as he could tell, the two young men sat alone in the very last car. It wasn't a big fancy coaster by any means, but even still, was it necessary?
Orientation officially ended at the parking lot. The other two employees were assigned to the Midway, so Aiba headed to the hotel. He passed a female guest about his age who was simply lying in the grass and staring up at the sky. He almost said hello to her, but he figured he'd wait until his shift had officially started. Upon entering the hotel in his uniform, a young woman from the front desk came over with a smile. She was rather cute, so it made sense why she was the person who greeted people here.
"You must be Aiba-san," she said. The lobby was deserted, but it was rather nice with some fancy looking ferns and a dark wood counter. It looked almost like any other hotel. She caught him looking around. "Yes, you definitely must be Aiba-san."
He was embarrassed. "Ah, sorry. First day."
"I'm Naka Riisa. I'm the first shift manager here at the hotel. At 4:00 PM second shift starts, and you'll see Murakami-kun at the desk. Just in case you come back and wonder where I went," she explained. "You've been in orientation all morning, let me just bring you to the dining room so you can grab some lunch."
"We can eat where the guests do?" he asked as her heels clicked on the tiled floor of the lobby. There was a bank of elevators down one hall that led up to the guest rooms and past that was a restaurant.
"Staff should be available at any opportunity. To mingle with guests, that sort of thing," Naka-san explained. Aiba felt a little nervous when they entered. The room was bright and airy with large windows and a dozen tables covered in cheery yellow and white checkered tablecloths. There was a buffet table at the rear of the room. Staff bustled to and fro clearing dishes and bringing out new trays of food. Only two tables were occupied in the entire room: one with four guests, another with an employee sitting by himself.
"Where do I report after lunch?" he asked.
"Back to me," Naka-san said. "I'll get you all set up, don't worry. We aren't throwing you to the wolves."
Aiba watched the glum faces of the four guests at the table. There was classical music being piped in through some speakers, and their plates were nearly overflowing with savory looking meats, sushi, hamburgers, salads, almost everything Aiba could think of. One woman even had a plate full of cake and ice cream. Not one of them was touching their food, and they sat back in their chairs looking miserable.
"Okay, I'll come back when I'm done eating," he replied, his eyes itching a bit. No no no, he told himself. It was one of the most important rules from orientation. Don't cry in front of guests, even if you really feel like you need to.
Naka-san headed back for the lobby, and Aiba left the sad table of ladies behind. There was a man in a chef's uniform slicing up juicy steaks. He wondered how long the food sat out here if nobody was coming to eat it. He allowed the man to put a sirloin down on his plate, and he helped himself to some vegetables and a cheesy potato dish. He headed for the table where the other employee was sitting. Aiba tended toward the shy side with people he hadn't met, but if he was going to be working at Paradise Circus for the next ten years then it made sense to try and get along with the staff.
The man at the table was about his age, maybe a little older. He was smaller, too, with a round face and short black hair. He looked up when Aiba approached. He only looked marginally more happy than the guests at the table on the other side of the room.
"Hello," the man said.
"Hi, I'm a new employee," Aiba said, "do you mind if I sit with you?"
"That's fine, go ahead."
Aiba sat down, setting his napkin on his lap. His companion was eating some curry, and it smelled wonderful. It was amazing that the staff could eat the same food the guests could. Maybe it was a perk for hotel employees. "I'm Aiba Masaki, nice to meet you."
The man dug his spoon into his curry and rice. "Ohno Satoshi. Nice to meet you, too."
Ohno was obviously a very quiet person because as soon as the introductions were over he went right back to eating. Aiba was starving so he wasn't too worried about the lack of conversation. But once he got through his steak, he was itching to chat. It had been such a long morning of hand-cramping paperwork and videos that it felt good to interact with another human being.
"So where do you work?"
Ohno took a sip from his glass of beer. Another perk, Aiba guessed. "Swimming pool," he said, and Aiba thought his voice was a little soft, but very gentle. Good for dealing with guests. "I'm the lifeguard."
"Do a lot of guests use the pool?"
Ohno seemed to consider the question for longer than Aiba thought necessary. He set down his spoon, scratching his chin. "Depends on the weather. The Midway isn't much fun in the winter, so there's more people at the hotel then."
"Makes sense," Aiba said agreeably. Silence descended again. "How long have you been working here, Ohno-san?"
"Nine years, ten months," the man admitted.
"That means..."
Ohno nodded. "Two months to go."
Aiba looked down at his plate. Of course, the odds of being chosen were kind of rare. It was only one hundred people a day in a country of over a hundred million people. People died in car crashes every day. People died of diseases every day. But even so, Aiba had signed on the dotted line to keep his family out of the lottery. In two months, Ohno-san's contract would end, and his name would go right back into the computer along with the names of the people he'd put on his own list.
"I hope we can work well together," Aiba mumbled for lack of anything better to say.
"Me too," Ohno said kindly. "Good luck to you, Aiba-san."
The man excused himself, leaving Aiba to finish his lunch alone. The only thing he could look at was the table of sad guests, and Aiba wolfed down his food to avoid having to watch them any longer. He found Naka-san at the front desk again, and she led him to a library on the opposite end of the hotel's ground floor.
"Normally Kanjiya-san works the first rotation. So she'll be here from the morning until 4:00 when there's the shift change. Then you'll come in and be in charge of the reading room until closing at 7:00 PM. That's when the guests go to their rooms."
Naka-san explained these things to him as if it was the most natural thing in the world, and Aiba tried not to shiver at the thought. "That's a shorter shift than Kanjiya-san's," Aiba said.
"Yes, exactly, which is why at 7:00 PM we need you to work with the rest of the hotel staff to ensure everyone gets to their rooms. All the staff pitch in to tidy up the shared hotel spaces for the next day's guests. And after midnight..." He saw Naka-san's face finally change from her calm, direct manner to a more solemn look. "After midnight, we take care of the rooms and your shift should be done by 1:00 AM."
"I understand," Aiba said.
Naka-san smiled again, seeming in lifted spirits. "Well, Aiba-san, best of luck to you. We're very happy to have you. Do your very best for the guests. Your shift is over at 7:00. Kanjiya-san will take care of cleaning up the reading room today so you can go back to the Village and get yourself moved in. Just report promptly at 4:00 PM tomorrow for your first full shift."
She departed, and Aiba was left alone in the room. There were several plush couches and armchairs, and the room's large bay window had a view of the park and gardens to the north. Bookshelves circled the room, covering every inch of wall space. Aiba scanned the shelves, finding fiction and non-fiction books ranging from romance novels to computer manuals. Something for everyone. There were several end tables and coffee tables strewn with magazines and newspapers.
As his first official shift as a Paradise Circus employee began, Aiba Masaki wondered what book he would choose to read on his last day alive.
---
Q: What does "1964" mean to you?
A: Truthfully? The Olympics. I mean, I was eight years old and my father and mother had saved up money to buy a television set so we could watch the games. I remember us all sitting around it during the summer, watching anything and everything since the Olympics weren't until October. It was an amazing thing, television, back in those days. Everything we'd heard about the war had been through the radio. And I honestly don't remember much. I mean, my parents told me what they could and they explained the Paradise Project in school, that from now on the country would be doing this so the majority could be safe. And it made a lot of sense when you're eight years old. It made a lot of sense to my parents, too.
It's hard for people to understand today, it's a generational thing. My parents, they'd been through the 1940's. My father had been in Manchuria and everything. Hiroshima, Nagasaki, this was still so fresh in everyone's minds. It hadn't even been twenty years since then. They absolutely refused to let it happen again. Japan was only just getting back on its feet. To people who had seen that devastation first hand, the Paradise Project was the only logical solution.
So you ask about 1964, but you're not going to get an answer full of outrage from me. Nor from my parents' generation. To me, 1964 was our first TV and the Olympics. It was a relatively happy time.
From Our Stories: The History of the Riser Movement, Interview - Kuwata Keisuke.
---
His theater had finally switched over to digital. Since The Vista wasn't one of those megaplex chain cinemas with the jumbo screens and the 3-D or IMAX movies, it had been slow to change. "We live and breathe 35 mm," the sign in the lobby had announced since the day Nino had started working there, and he'd gotten used to doing things the old-fashioned way.
Checking the quality of the prints the distributors sent, getting the reels put together with the government -mandated short films and trailers for other movies, lacing the film through the projector. It taught him respect, it taught him patience. But Taichi-san had finally "seen the light" and made the conversion. Now they got sent entire films on a separate drive. There were no scratches to worry about, no ruining his eyes as he got the reels together. There was just the hard drive and the projector and Nino there to press the button and queue things up.
There was very little romance to it now, but so long as Nino still had a job at The Vista he didn't mind. Digital meant that Taichi-san only had to pay for one projectionist to migrate between the three auditoriums since the computer did most of the work. Nino had the most seniority, so he'd gotten to stick around.
He liked his job. Even if the movies themselves sucked more often than not, it gave him lots of time alone, a freedom few other jobs granted him. He could stare out into the darkened auditorium as the movie played, memorizing the moments when the audience would laugh or cry or shriek in fear. He compared packed houses on the weekends to the sparse morning shows with only a few bored housewives or old folks in attendance. Would they laugh as hard this time? Cry as hard? He envied their ability to forget everything and get lost in a movie for two hours.
Auditorium 1 had finally gotten the new Andy Lau movie in. The downside of not being a megaplex chain meant that The Vista wasn't that high on the priority list for the newest foreign films. It had been out a month at the megaplexes, and as he set up the digital projector that afternoon he noticed that the house was mostly empty. Mostly hardcore fangirls. Correction, he noted with a smile. Fan...ladies, maybe ten or twelve tops in tiny clusters. It was time for the 2:00 PM screening, and the housewives were positively giddy in anticipation.
There was new Andy Lau and with it the newest government film to queue up at the beginning. It was the fiftieth anniversary of the war this year, a big deal. Obviously worth sinking a few million yen into another five minute fluff piece with lots of smiling faces.
"I'm happy to live in a Japan that's free!" cried a classroom full of kids in Akita. "Paradise Circus means I have a job, a livelihood," explained an office worker in Osaka. "The sacrifices of the few help the rest of us enjoy peace," said an old woman on an Okinawa beach, the waves lapping at her ankles. Picturesque. Perfect.
Every time Nino saw the file sitting on the hard drive the urge to delete it nearly overtook him. How easy it would be to just trash it, tell Taichi-san there was a computer error. They were digital now, after all. These things could happen. It was never possible in the old days when Nino had to feed the propaganda bullshit straight into the projector like a good little boy.
But the housewives were waiting, he thought with a bitter chuckle. Projector warmed up and ready, he set the government film in motion so everyone could ooh and aah and go "wow, has it really been fifty years?" Fifty since the war, forty-eight since Paradise. He set up the trailers, five of them, then hit the Andy Lau file with his finger. What a good little boy.
Set-up complete, he left the projectionist booth and made it to Auditorium 3 just in time to help Yamada-kun sweep up after the 12:20 show let out. The kid had only just finished high school, but university didn't seem to be looming on the horizon. After Yamada tossed him a black trash bag, Nino headed up to the back row to start hunting down stray popcorn bags and cups.
"Hey Ninomiya-senpai," the kid called to him from the front of the house.
Senpai, Nino thought derisively. "Yeah?"
"I was talking with a friend. About joining the Self-Defense Force."
Nino nearly tipped over a jumbo-sized soda, snatching it up with his fingers just before it fell. "Sure beats scraping gum off the floor here."
Yamada laughed. "I guess you could say that. I was thinking the Air branch. Could you see me flying a plane?"
No, Nino thought. I can't see you throwing your life away for a slim to none chance. "Can't hurt to try, right?"
Nino headed down to the next row where the theater's guests had proven even more disgusting than the folks sitting behind them. Ground, Air, Maritime. They locked you in for twenty years, turned you into a robot. And yet...
"I think it would be badass to fly a plane," Yamada rambled on in a way Nino himself might have when he was eighteen. Of course, that was ten years ago. A lot could happen in ten years.
Once the theater was clean, Yamada headed off to tear tickets, brain full of brilliant ideas and dreams. Nino wasn't sure if he envied or pitied the kid, really. Auditorium 3 had a 3:00 PM screening of Toda Erika's movie, I Still Remember. It was one of those historical pieces, and she was playing someone whose whole family had been killed in America in '62 and went on to volunteer for Paradise. They'd been showing it for nearly a month now, so Nino had almost all her lines memorized.
"For my mother, for my father. For all of Japan," Erika always said at the end. It was the line that really got the tissues out of the pack.
He wondered if Toda Erika felt like a fraud, having to promote such a joke of a movie. Nobody fucking volunteered for Paradise.
---
The newsroom was buzzing when Sho arrived, setting his bag on his desk. He'd probably packed more than he needed for an overnight. As soon as tonight's broadcast ended, he needed to get to Haneda for a flight down to Kagoshima. Tomorrow was an interview with a ninety-five year old woman. Manabe-san, he reminded himself. Ninety-five years old and the oldest person selected for Paradise Circus in almost three years. The kind of interview Sho daydreamed about.
He left his bag behind, finding Producer Kimura in the break room watching a new pot of coffee birth itself before their eyes. The man was completely enraptured by the steady drip drip drip, and Sho wanted to laugh at him. But it wasn't exactly a workplace made for laughter. There'd been so many calls and positive comments after the Higashiyama segment the other night, and it was on the producers to try and come up with something just as interesting. But it wasn't every day that a celebrity was chosen in the lottery.
"Kimura-san," Sho interrupted him. "How are we looking tonight?"
The man sighed, looking away from the coffee. "Bunch of nobodies last night, bunch of nobodies tonight. I swear, there's never any coming back after a celebrity tribute."
Sho bit the inside of his cheek. He hoped he'd never get to a place as bitter as where Kimura seemed to reside. Sho was always more interested in talking to normal people, but celebrities brought ratings. Celebrities, athletes, politicians - their selection kept the system in place, his father always told him.
"Tomorrow's interview, I think it'll be helpful," Sho said, opening the refrigerator to retrieve a yogurt he'd stuck there the night before. Kimura was finally getting his precious coffee.
"Helpful," Kimura murmured as he poured some coffee into his mug. "Helpful doesn't cut it."
Sho ducked out of the break room with his sad excuse for dinner in hand, spoon in his mouth. Great. He was taking a late night flight with the guy in several hours, and Kimura was already in a mood. He got back to his desk, overhearing the usual newsroom chatter. A forest fire in Hokkaido, a murder in Yokohama, the usual domestic beat.
He remembered a time when he'd been so bored covering the domestic beat, how reporting live from yet another local festival was a waste of his time. The international desk was where he belonged. At least that was what he'd thought back then. And then the man who'd read the names had retired, and Sho had received his promotion. Now he was the face of Paradise Circus. Everyone in the street knew exactly who he was now. Sakurai Sho and the Freedom segment. Sakurai Sho, the man who read the names.
While staff raced around and the production crew finalized everything for the nightly broadcast in the studio, Sho sat at his desk reading the names over and over. There could be no greater insult than to read a name incorrectly. They were double and triple checked to ensure that he had all the information he needed. Name, age, city. Sakurai Sho, 30, Tokyo. He wondered who'd read his name if they ever called him.
The sun set, and Sho whispered each name again and again. Tonight's highlighted hero was Morita Aya-san from Shimonoseki. A junior high school teacher, married, three children. They'd cue the montage of pictures. Morita-san and her students, Morita-san at a family gathering.
They usually let Sho go through the list and make the choice. Unless, of course, there was a celebrity called - then they got singled out no matter how many deserving people made up the other ninety-nine. The producers did the initial calls, getting in contact with the family or the person themselves. "We'd like to honor you on our broadcast. Could you part with some photographs?" After that, Sho followed up with questions of his own, figured out the most logical angle. That angle being one Producer Kimura would sign off on.
Kimura had vetoed him on a cabaret girl before. Too controversial. He'd gotten vetoed on a deadbeat father, a teenage delinquent, a convicted rapist. "But we call them all heroes," Sho usually argued. "Everyone should have an equal chance."
Kimura usually smiled in the way that made Sho's stomach turn. "We don't feature people that others are happy to be rid of."
With some time to spare before wardrobe and makeup, Sho checked and re-checked his bag. Two books for the flight - he usually slept through red-eye flights, but he was a creature of habit. An extra dress shirt, five different ties. Whatever worked best with the colors inside Manabe-san's home. Location shoots always made him nervous. He was used to just reading the names. It was always strange to meet them before they became a name on the air.
He had to anticipate how they'd react. Would they cry? Would they hold on to him? Would they say nothing at all? After all, he was the man who read the names. He was the kiss of death.
"Sho-kun."
Murao-san's hand on his shoulder made him jump, and the older man laughed at him. "Ah, Murao-san, I'm sorry."
"I'm the one who startled you," Murao said. There weren't too many people Sho could talk to about the burdens of his job, but Murao had mentored him for his entire tenure in the Freedom segment. The man had anchored the evening broadcast for over twenty years with a calm air and a finesse that Sho envied and desperately wanted to emulate.
"I was just about to head over to wardrobe."
"I'll walk with you," Murao said.
"I'm going down to Kagoshima. Ninety-five year old woman," Sho explained as they navigated their way out of the newsroom.
"Ninety-five!" Murao replied. "Wonderful. I bet she'll have an amazing perspective."
Let's hope so, Sho thought to himself. Of course Kimura and the rest of the production staff had called and spoken with Manabe-san's family. They'd been assured that the old woman was still sharp. Sho wouldn't be showing up to find an invalid in a hospital bed drooling, Kimura had said.
"Do you think you'll make it to ninety-five, Murao-san?"
"Hmm," he mused aloud. "I wonder. If I'm in decent health, it would be nice, but if I'm sickly, I hope not. How about you, Sho-kun?"
"Sixty-five years from now," Sho said. "I wonder what the world will be like then?"
Would there still be names to read? If that was the world in sixty-five years, Sho definitely hoped he'd be dead.
part two
Rating: R
Characters/Pairings: Matsumoto Jun/Ninomiya Kazunari and Aiba Masaki/Kanjiya Shihori, with all of Arashi and various cameos of other JE folks and people from the Japanese entertainment industry
Summary: Let me take this opportunity to welcome you to the Paradise Circus Civilian Staff roster. It is our sole purpose to ensure that our guests are treated with the respect they deserve as heroes preserving the freedom of our nation. We're happy to have you aboard for the duration of your service contract. Remember that your efforts ensure the continued peace Japan enjoys.
Notes/Warnings: Alternate history AU set in 2012 Japan. 45,000+ words. I'm too much of a troll to reveal anything else. Includes strong language; sex (non-explicit); mention of suicide; heavy angst - my usual cheerful fare.
OFFICIAL TRANSCRIPT
CHANNEL ONE - EVENING NEWS BROADCAST
FREEDOM SEGMENT
AIRED 14 APRIL 2012 - 23:17-23:28
MURAO NOBUTAKA, ANCHOR: We now turn to Sakurai Sho for the 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 do, indeed, 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, Higashiyama Noriyuki.
(BEGIN PHOTO MONTAGE)
SAKURAI: (narration) Pop idol legend Higashiyama Noriyuki was born in Kawasaki in 1966. Rising through the ranks of the idol agency Playzone, Higashiyama debuted as a member of Our Nation's Voices in 1985. With several number one singles and albums, Our Nation's Voices delivered memorable performances all over Japan. In addition, Higashiyama appeared in numerous television programs, stage plays, and films and was well-known for his diligence, hard work, and incomparable skills. Higashiyama leaves behind an incredible legacy as well as a wife, actress Kimura Yoshino-san, and one child.
(END PHOTO MONTAGE)
(BEGIN VIDEO CLIP)
HIGASHIYAMA NORIYUKI: I have been incredibly blessed over the years, but I have been selected, and to me, there may be no greater honor. So my fans can live another day, I will go. So my son can continue to live in a Japan that knows peace, I will go. Thank you all so much for your support, it has truly been an amazing journey.
(END VIDEO CLIP)
SAKURAI: Higashiyama Noriyuki, a hero ensuring Japan's lasting freedom. He was forty-five years old.
MURAO: I went to a concert by Our Nation's Voices once.
SAKURAI: Oh really?
MURAO: Yes, yes! In 1989 at the Budoukan. You must have been in grade school then, huh?
SAKURAI: You're right!
MURAO: It was mostly teen girls, you understand. (laughs) But being a young man at an idol concert, you see, it makes one popular!
SAKURAI: (laughs) I never thought of it that way!
MURAO: Higashiyama-san, what an incredible talent. Ah, but I'm getting carried away. Sakurai-san, if you will.
SAKURAI: Every night this program ensures that the sacrifices of all heroes are recognized. Yesterday Higashiyama Noriyuki-san was joined in death by ninety-nine others. Let us commence with the reading of the names.
---
PARADISE CIRCUS
---
The air was crisp and chilly as Jun exited the command center and started the walk to the parking lot. Some of the stragglers, growing soft from the months spent on an easier assignment, dragged their feet as they moved through the Midway. In an hour, it would be different. Every man and woman would conduct themselves with dignity and pride, but it seemed to Jun that most of his colleagues didn't flip their duty switches to "on" until that first bus came through the gate.
Jun had risen before the sun at 0430 hours, arriving at 0515 in his civilian clothes. He'd been the first in the locker room, even before the Lieutenant had arrived. He took his assignment seriously, even if it still felt a bit strange to wear camo in a place like this. He was eight months into Paradise Duty, and he didn't understand why he was dressed for battle. There was nothing to fight here. But perhaps the uniforms served as a reminder for guests. The Ground Self-Defense Force was at Paradise Circus to help march them toward inevitability.
So in Jun's mind there was no excuse for looking anything but his best. Boots polished and laced tight, uniform clean and unwrinkled, his sidearm properly holstered (even if it only contained rubber bullets). On other assignments he'd dug through mud to rescue people trapped by landslides. He'd tromped through flooded streets to keep opportunists from looting. Paradise Duty kept his hands clean.
There was the scent of stale cotton candy and salty popcorn drifting down the Midway, and the empty merry-go-round always unnerved him in the early hours. The Midway at rest was an eerie thing, all the lights off and devoid of life. But soon enough the organ would start, the horses would bob up and down, and the ride would turn. The jet coaster would click its way up the short lift hill. The barkers would call out to the guests. Jun would stand and observe.
Everyone assembled in the parking lot. There were usually two buses, and they left the Shinjuku terminal at 0630. The sign at the gate read "Welcome to Paradise Circus" in a script made to resemble a child's sloppy handwriting. The "Welcome Heroes" banners hung all around the lot and throughout the park. Jun stood at attention at 0715 when the first bus rolled through. At his side, Oguri muttered under his breath.
"Bet they would have stayed home if they knew 'Paradise' was just another name for Nerima."
Jun ignored his friend. It wasn't really the time or place for jokes. Especially jokes he made without fail almost every time they pulled first rotation duty. The bus door remained closed, but Jun could see a few faces peering out from behind the window glass. He knew some of them were looking at the high walls that enclosed the facility, the curls of barbed wire atop them ringing the green fields, hotel, and Midway grounds. The second bus arrived five minutes later, and each door opened with a light hiss.
Lieutenant Katori was good at his job. He was good-humored in a way Jun secretly wished he could be, and his face was the first one the guests saw when they stepped out of the buses each day. "Good morning, good morning," he said cheerfully, clipboard in one hand as he waved the quiet men and women out of the buses.
Today was a good day, Katori had said in the command center earlier. The youngest guest on the list was fourteen. Kids made for difficult guests. There was so much they simply couldn't understand. They asked questions. And they would cry when Jun explained that no, they couldn't go home. As soon as all one hundred guests exited from the buses, Katori began the roll call.
The guests raised their hands meekly, obediently, and one by one Katori assigned them to a member of the Self-Defense Force. The Paradise Ground Unit that Jun was part of included twenty men and women each shift - five guests to each member of the unit. Guests were granted enough independence to walk the grounds, but in the eight months Jun had been on Paradise Duty, many seemed content enough to let Jun usher them around most of the day.
Katori sent two old men, a middle-aged woman, and two young men, maybe college aged, over to him. The groups started to depart the parking lot as Jun heard the sounds of the Midway begin. The organ music of the merry-go-round was already reaching his ears as the civilian staff got to their posts. Paradise Circus was open for the day.
"I'm Corporal Matsumoto," he introduced himself calmly. "I'm your escort today. If you have any questions about Paradise Circus, I'll do my best to answer them or find a member of staff who can."
The middle-aged woman was staring at her feet, and the two younger men looked antsy. "We can go on the rides, right?" one of them asked.
"If you wish to walk the grounds independently, I only ask that you check in with me on the hour," Jun explained. "On the Midway, please meet with me by the goldfish catching booth. You are free to use the hotel's facilities as well, and if you're otherwise engaged there, please have a member of staff get in touch with me. You have freedom of the grounds until 7:00 PM sharp. At that time, we ask that you make your way to the hotel."
The young men nodded and headed off together, walking with the same shuffling stroll Jun recognized in most people who arrived at Paradise Circus. The old men informed Jun that they would go to the hotel. The woman said nothing, and Jun approached her cautiously.
"Hello there," he said.
She didn't reply.
"There are lots of things to do here. What kind of activities do you enjoy?" Her shoulders drooped slightly. She was obviously crying. "I imagine it was tough getting on a bus so early in the morning. There's a room for you at the hotel. I'd be happy to walk you there. Or if you'd like to walk through the park there's some lovely flower beds. I watched them plant them a few weeks ago."
"The hotel," she managed to say, and Jun felt rather fortunate to have such an easy morning. Even now he could hear some of the other guests arguing with other members of the Ground Unit, some complaining about the 7:00 PM curfew, others about the need to check in. He matched the woman's pace, slowly leaving the asphalt of the parking lot behind and bypassing the Midway in favor of the cement path that led to the Paradise Hotel.
It was a three-story red brick building, resting at the top of a small hill. As they headed up the path, Jun could see staff hurrying across the grass, looking for people to help. They made their way to the hotel lobby, and he was just about to have the front desk staff escort the woman to her room when she grabbed hold of his sleeve to halt their steps.
"I have three children," she told him.
"I'm very sorry." He wanted to hold her hand, give it a squeeze, but that's what the civilian staff were for. Even then, Riisa at the front desk was walking around to come over and help. "They have materials in the rooms if you wish to write letters to your family."
Riisa was better at this than him. It was her job to be good at it. "Ah, Corporal Matsumoto, good morning."
"Good morning," he said politely. It wasn't his job to smile and be friendly, and he could already tell the woman at his side was relaxing a bit as soon as Riisa came up and wrapped her arm around her shoulders.
"Corporal, we'll be happy to take care of our guest. I'm sure you have important duties to attend to all over the park!"
Even after this many years in the Self-Defense Force, he'd never managed to be this awake and cheerful at 0730 hours. Riisa's perkiness had annoyed him at first, but he'd grown used to it, took some measure of comfort in it. "Thank you very much."
All five guests accounted for, Jun left the hotel and took a long look around. The park to the north with its bright green lawns and colorful flowers, the Midway to the south with its rides and games, the Village to the east with the staff buildings. All of it beautiful. All of it ringed by a wall with barbed wire at the top. Even now the cameras in the command center were pointed at him loitering.
He headed for the Midway to see what rides his younger charges had chosen.
---
Let me take this opportunity to welcome you to the Paradise Circus Civilian Staff roster. It is our sole purpose to ensure that our guests are treated with the respect they deserve as heroes preserving the freedom of our nation.
As a valued member of our team, you serve as the face of gratitude and kindness in their final hours. Making people smile is not always so easy, but through the magic of your thoughtful, courteous, and helpful nature, guests coming through our gates will depart this world for the next peacefully. To run an effective operation takes many qualified, hardworking people. You are a staff member at Paradise Circus because we feel you have good judgment and will use good common sense in the performance of your duties and in your personal conduct.
We're happy to have you aboard for the duration of your service contract. Remember that your efforts ensure the continued peace Japan enjoys.
From the Paradise Circus Civilian Employee Manual, Chapter One: Introduction.
---
Employee orientation had lasted the entire morning. The bus from Chiba City had dropped him off at 10:00 PM the night before where a man in Self-Defense Force gear had come to pick him up from the bus station in a jeep. The moving service had already delivered his stuff which the staff had brought into his room in employee housing. Everything seemed extremely efficient.
There'd been little time to get acquainted with his new home. His room was decently sized, and he had his own en-suite bathroom, but he hadn't unpacked anything yet. He'd just curled up on the mattress with his jacket for a pillow. There were employee rooms on each floor, and kitchen facilities were shared with the other people in the house on the ground floor. It was a squat, two-story white brick building set around a well-manicured patch of grass with several other matching buildings. It reminded Aiba of a summer camp or a set of school dormitories, though the other staff members milling around the grounds were of varying ages.
Guests arrived at Paradise Circus around 7:00 AM, and though there'd been very little direction upon arrival, Aiba had been told to report to the command center for orientation at 6:30 AM. Following orientation he'd be working an afternoon shift with his evening free to get settled in.
The command center itself was a gray building, nondescript save for the cameras and numerous "STAFF ONLY" signs plastered everywhere. He'd been half asleep when he entered, helping himself to some coffee and pastries that had been set out for new employees. The orientation consisted of lots of paperwork. Aiba thought he'd already signed his whole life away when he'd first signed his contract, but there were employee codes of conduct to sign, tax paperwork, and bank stuff for his paycheck.
And of course there'd been the lottery forms. Even now he was worried about how much his hand had been shaking when he'd filled them out, pencilling in the names and identity card numbers for his mother, his father, his brother, and his brother's wife. Ten years. Ten years they'd be okay.
Only two other employees had been in the room for orientation with him. Job openings at Paradise Circus rarely occurred. Most people remained in their contracts for the duration. He and the other two had probably just gotten lucky. After all the paperwork, there'd been videos. The typical sexual harassment ones, of course. Then the government videos they'd shown all the time when he'd been in school. About the war, about the foundation of the Paradise Circus program. He'd found himself paying a lot more attention to the videos now than he had when he was fifteen and more interested in the legs of the girl sitting next to him in class.
They'd finished the videos and received a tour of the grounds. Aiba was already dressed in his staff uniform. Assignments were fairly arbitrary, the man who ran the orientation had explained. New employees were simply placed where there were openings. When other staff members' contracts were up, current employees could lobby for their posts. So for now Aiba was in the basic staff uniform for the Paradise Hotel. The clothes had been laid out on his bed when he'd arrived the night before.
Those working the Midway looked like anyone who'd work at Fuji-Q Highland or some other amusement park. They had blue slacks, white polo shirts, and blue windbreakers. Hotel staff wore black slacks (skirts for the ladies), white dress shirts under a red sweater vest, and a plain black tie. It was fancier than anything Aiba had ever worn for work before, but then again, he'd only worked at the karaoke place and as a waiter at his parents' restaurant, and neither of those places thought ties were necessary.
Even then as they walked the Midway there were a few guests milling about, Self-Defense Force guys behind them. Aiba watched an old lady and a guy in his 30's compete against each other in a ring toss game while two guys in their early 20's were being strapped in to the jet coaster. Aiba was kind of amazed there was a jet coaster in the first place. Fully staffed by a team of four or five as far as he could tell, the two young men sat alone in the very last car. It wasn't a big fancy coaster by any means, but even still, was it necessary?
Orientation officially ended at the parking lot. The other two employees were assigned to the Midway, so Aiba headed to the hotel. He passed a female guest about his age who was simply lying in the grass and staring up at the sky. He almost said hello to her, but he figured he'd wait until his shift had officially started. Upon entering the hotel in his uniform, a young woman from the front desk came over with a smile. She was rather cute, so it made sense why she was the person who greeted people here.
"You must be Aiba-san," she said. The lobby was deserted, but it was rather nice with some fancy looking ferns and a dark wood counter. It looked almost like any other hotel. She caught him looking around. "Yes, you definitely must be Aiba-san."
He was embarrassed. "Ah, sorry. First day."
"I'm Naka Riisa. I'm the first shift manager here at the hotel. At 4:00 PM second shift starts, and you'll see Murakami-kun at the desk. Just in case you come back and wonder where I went," she explained. "You've been in orientation all morning, let me just bring you to the dining room so you can grab some lunch."
"We can eat where the guests do?" he asked as her heels clicked on the tiled floor of the lobby. There was a bank of elevators down one hall that led up to the guest rooms and past that was a restaurant.
"Staff should be available at any opportunity. To mingle with guests, that sort of thing," Naka-san explained. Aiba felt a little nervous when they entered. The room was bright and airy with large windows and a dozen tables covered in cheery yellow and white checkered tablecloths. There was a buffet table at the rear of the room. Staff bustled to and fro clearing dishes and bringing out new trays of food. Only two tables were occupied in the entire room: one with four guests, another with an employee sitting by himself.
"Where do I report after lunch?" he asked.
"Back to me," Naka-san said. "I'll get you all set up, don't worry. We aren't throwing you to the wolves."
Aiba watched the glum faces of the four guests at the table. There was classical music being piped in through some speakers, and their plates were nearly overflowing with savory looking meats, sushi, hamburgers, salads, almost everything Aiba could think of. One woman even had a plate full of cake and ice cream. Not one of them was touching their food, and they sat back in their chairs looking miserable.
"Okay, I'll come back when I'm done eating," he replied, his eyes itching a bit. No no no, he told himself. It was one of the most important rules from orientation. Don't cry in front of guests, even if you really feel like you need to.
Naka-san headed back for the lobby, and Aiba left the sad table of ladies behind. There was a man in a chef's uniform slicing up juicy steaks. He wondered how long the food sat out here if nobody was coming to eat it. He allowed the man to put a sirloin down on his plate, and he helped himself to some vegetables and a cheesy potato dish. He headed for the table where the other employee was sitting. Aiba tended toward the shy side with people he hadn't met, but if he was going to be working at Paradise Circus for the next ten years then it made sense to try and get along with the staff.
The man at the table was about his age, maybe a little older. He was smaller, too, with a round face and short black hair. He looked up when Aiba approached. He only looked marginally more happy than the guests at the table on the other side of the room.
"Hello," the man said.
"Hi, I'm a new employee," Aiba said, "do you mind if I sit with you?"
"That's fine, go ahead."
Aiba sat down, setting his napkin on his lap. His companion was eating some curry, and it smelled wonderful. It was amazing that the staff could eat the same food the guests could. Maybe it was a perk for hotel employees. "I'm Aiba Masaki, nice to meet you."
The man dug his spoon into his curry and rice. "Ohno Satoshi. Nice to meet you, too."
Ohno was obviously a very quiet person because as soon as the introductions were over he went right back to eating. Aiba was starving so he wasn't too worried about the lack of conversation. But once he got through his steak, he was itching to chat. It had been such a long morning of hand-cramping paperwork and videos that it felt good to interact with another human being.
"So where do you work?"
Ohno took a sip from his glass of beer. Another perk, Aiba guessed. "Swimming pool," he said, and Aiba thought his voice was a little soft, but very gentle. Good for dealing with guests. "I'm the lifeguard."
"Do a lot of guests use the pool?"
Ohno seemed to consider the question for longer than Aiba thought necessary. He set down his spoon, scratching his chin. "Depends on the weather. The Midway isn't much fun in the winter, so there's more people at the hotel then."
"Makes sense," Aiba said agreeably. Silence descended again. "How long have you been working here, Ohno-san?"
"Nine years, ten months," the man admitted.
"That means..."
Ohno nodded. "Two months to go."
Aiba looked down at his plate. Of course, the odds of being chosen were kind of rare. It was only one hundred people a day in a country of over a hundred million people. People died in car crashes every day. People died of diseases every day. But even so, Aiba had signed on the dotted line to keep his family out of the lottery. In two months, Ohno-san's contract would end, and his name would go right back into the computer along with the names of the people he'd put on his own list.
"I hope we can work well together," Aiba mumbled for lack of anything better to say.
"Me too," Ohno said kindly. "Good luck to you, Aiba-san."
The man excused himself, leaving Aiba to finish his lunch alone. The only thing he could look at was the table of sad guests, and Aiba wolfed down his food to avoid having to watch them any longer. He found Naka-san at the front desk again, and she led him to a library on the opposite end of the hotel's ground floor.
"Normally Kanjiya-san works the first rotation. So she'll be here from the morning until 4:00 when there's the shift change. Then you'll come in and be in charge of the reading room until closing at 7:00 PM. That's when the guests go to their rooms."
Naka-san explained these things to him as if it was the most natural thing in the world, and Aiba tried not to shiver at the thought. "That's a shorter shift than Kanjiya-san's," Aiba said.
"Yes, exactly, which is why at 7:00 PM we need you to work with the rest of the hotel staff to ensure everyone gets to their rooms. All the staff pitch in to tidy up the shared hotel spaces for the next day's guests. And after midnight..." He saw Naka-san's face finally change from her calm, direct manner to a more solemn look. "After midnight, we take care of the rooms and your shift should be done by 1:00 AM."
"I understand," Aiba said.
Naka-san smiled again, seeming in lifted spirits. "Well, Aiba-san, best of luck to you. We're very happy to have you. Do your very best for the guests. Your shift is over at 7:00. Kanjiya-san will take care of cleaning up the reading room today so you can go back to the Village and get yourself moved in. Just report promptly at 4:00 PM tomorrow for your first full shift."
She departed, and Aiba was left alone in the room. There were several plush couches and armchairs, and the room's large bay window had a view of the park and gardens to the north. Bookshelves circled the room, covering every inch of wall space. Aiba scanned the shelves, finding fiction and non-fiction books ranging from romance novels to computer manuals. Something for everyone. There were several end tables and coffee tables strewn with magazines and newspapers.
As his first official shift as a Paradise Circus employee began, Aiba Masaki wondered what book he would choose to read on his last day alive.
---
Q: What does "1964" mean to you?
A: Truthfully? The Olympics. I mean, I was eight years old and my father and mother had saved up money to buy a television set so we could watch the games. I remember us all sitting around it during the summer, watching anything and everything since the Olympics weren't until October. It was an amazing thing, television, back in those days. Everything we'd heard about the war had been through the radio. And I honestly don't remember much. I mean, my parents told me what they could and they explained the Paradise Project in school, that from now on the country would be doing this so the majority could be safe. And it made a lot of sense when you're eight years old. It made a lot of sense to my parents, too.
It's hard for people to understand today, it's a generational thing. My parents, they'd been through the 1940's. My father had been in Manchuria and everything. Hiroshima, Nagasaki, this was still so fresh in everyone's minds. It hadn't even been twenty years since then. They absolutely refused to let it happen again. Japan was only just getting back on its feet. To people who had seen that devastation first hand, the Paradise Project was the only logical solution.
So you ask about 1964, but you're not going to get an answer full of outrage from me. Nor from my parents' generation. To me, 1964 was our first TV and the Olympics. It was a relatively happy time.
From Our Stories: The History of the Riser Movement, Interview - Kuwata Keisuke.
---
His theater had finally switched over to digital. Since The Vista wasn't one of those megaplex chain cinemas with the jumbo screens and the 3-D or IMAX movies, it had been slow to change. "We live and breathe 35 mm," the sign in the lobby had announced since the day Nino had started working there, and he'd gotten used to doing things the old-fashioned way.
Checking the quality of the prints the distributors sent, getting the reels put together with the government -mandated short films and trailers for other movies, lacing the film through the projector. It taught him respect, it taught him patience. But Taichi-san had finally "seen the light" and made the conversion. Now they got sent entire films on a separate drive. There were no scratches to worry about, no ruining his eyes as he got the reels together. There was just the hard drive and the projector and Nino there to press the button and queue things up.
There was very little romance to it now, but so long as Nino still had a job at The Vista he didn't mind. Digital meant that Taichi-san only had to pay for one projectionist to migrate between the three auditoriums since the computer did most of the work. Nino had the most seniority, so he'd gotten to stick around.
He liked his job. Even if the movies themselves sucked more often than not, it gave him lots of time alone, a freedom few other jobs granted him. He could stare out into the darkened auditorium as the movie played, memorizing the moments when the audience would laugh or cry or shriek in fear. He compared packed houses on the weekends to the sparse morning shows with only a few bored housewives or old folks in attendance. Would they laugh as hard this time? Cry as hard? He envied their ability to forget everything and get lost in a movie for two hours.
Auditorium 1 had finally gotten the new Andy Lau movie in. The downside of not being a megaplex chain meant that The Vista wasn't that high on the priority list for the newest foreign films. It had been out a month at the megaplexes, and as he set up the digital projector that afternoon he noticed that the house was mostly empty. Mostly hardcore fangirls. Correction, he noted with a smile. Fan...ladies, maybe ten or twelve tops in tiny clusters. It was time for the 2:00 PM screening, and the housewives were positively giddy in anticipation.
There was new Andy Lau and with it the newest government film to queue up at the beginning. It was the fiftieth anniversary of the war this year, a big deal. Obviously worth sinking a few million yen into another five minute fluff piece with lots of smiling faces.
"I'm happy to live in a Japan that's free!" cried a classroom full of kids in Akita. "Paradise Circus means I have a job, a livelihood," explained an office worker in Osaka. "The sacrifices of the few help the rest of us enjoy peace," said an old woman on an Okinawa beach, the waves lapping at her ankles. Picturesque. Perfect.
Every time Nino saw the file sitting on the hard drive the urge to delete it nearly overtook him. How easy it would be to just trash it, tell Taichi-san there was a computer error. They were digital now, after all. These things could happen. It was never possible in the old days when Nino had to feed the propaganda bullshit straight into the projector like a good little boy.
But the housewives were waiting, he thought with a bitter chuckle. Projector warmed up and ready, he set the government film in motion so everyone could ooh and aah and go "wow, has it really been fifty years?" Fifty since the war, forty-eight since Paradise. He set up the trailers, five of them, then hit the Andy Lau file with his finger. What a good little boy.
Set-up complete, he left the projectionist booth and made it to Auditorium 3 just in time to help Yamada-kun sweep up after the 12:20 show let out. The kid had only just finished high school, but university didn't seem to be looming on the horizon. After Yamada tossed him a black trash bag, Nino headed up to the back row to start hunting down stray popcorn bags and cups.
"Hey Ninomiya-senpai," the kid called to him from the front of the house.
Senpai, Nino thought derisively. "Yeah?"
"I was talking with a friend. About joining the Self-Defense Force."
Nino nearly tipped over a jumbo-sized soda, snatching it up with his fingers just before it fell. "Sure beats scraping gum off the floor here."
Yamada laughed. "I guess you could say that. I was thinking the Air branch. Could you see me flying a plane?"
No, Nino thought. I can't see you throwing your life away for a slim to none chance. "Can't hurt to try, right?"
Nino headed down to the next row where the theater's guests had proven even more disgusting than the folks sitting behind them. Ground, Air, Maritime. They locked you in for twenty years, turned you into a robot. And yet...
"I think it would be badass to fly a plane," Yamada rambled on in a way Nino himself might have when he was eighteen. Of course, that was ten years ago. A lot could happen in ten years.
Once the theater was clean, Yamada headed off to tear tickets, brain full of brilliant ideas and dreams. Nino wasn't sure if he envied or pitied the kid, really. Auditorium 3 had a 3:00 PM screening of Toda Erika's movie, I Still Remember. It was one of those historical pieces, and she was playing someone whose whole family had been killed in America in '62 and went on to volunteer for Paradise. They'd been showing it for nearly a month now, so Nino had almost all her lines memorized.
"For my mother, for my father. For all of Japan," Erika always said at the end. It was the line that really got the tissues out of the pack.
He wondered if Toda Erika felt like a fraud, having to promote such a joke of a movie. Nobody fucking volunteered for Paradise.
---
The newsroom was buzzing when Sho arrived, setting his bag on his desk. He'd probably packed more than he needed for an overnight. As soon as tonight's broadcast ended, he needed to get to Haneda for a flight down to Kagoshima. Tomorrow was an interview with a ninety-five year old woman. Manabe-san, he reminded himself. Ninety-five years old and the oldest person selected for Paradise Circus in almost three years. The kind of interview Sho daydreamed about.
He left his bag behind, finding Producer Kimura in the break room watching a new pot of coffee birth itself before their eyes. The man was completely enraptured by the steady drip drip drip, and Sho wanted to laugh at him. But it wasn't exactly a workplace made for laughter. There'd been so many calls and positive comments after the Higashiyama segment the other night, and it was on the producers to try and come up with something just as interesting. But it wasn't every day that a celebrity was chosen in the lottery.
"Kimura-san," Sho interrupted him. "How are we looking tonight?"
The man sighed, looking away from the coffee. "Bunch of nobodies last night, bunch of nobodies tonight. I swear, there's never any coming back after a celebrity tribute."
Sho bit the inside of his cheek. He hoped he'd never get to a place as bitter as where Kimura seemed to reside. Sho was always more interested in talking to normal people, but celebrities brought ratings. Celebrities, athletes, politicians - their selection kept the system in place, his father always told him.
"Tomorrow's interview, I think it'll be helpful," Sho said, opening the refrigerator to retrieve a yogurt he'd stuck there the night before. Kimura was finally getting his precious coffee.
"Helpful," Kimura murmured as he poured some coffee into his mug. "Helpful doesn't cut it."
Sho ducked out of the break room with his sad excuse for dinner in hand, spoon in his mouth. Great. He was taking a late night flight with the guy in several hours, and Kimura was already in a mood. He got back to his desk, overhearing the usual newsroom chatter. A forest fire in Hokkaido, a murder in Yokohama, the usual domestic beat.
He remembered a time when he'd been so bored covering the domestic beat, how reporting live from yet another local festival was a waste of his time. The international desk was where he belonged. At least that was what he'd thought back then. And then the man who'd read the names had retired, and Sho had received his promotion. Now he was the face of Paradise Circus. Everyone in the street knew exactly who he was now. Sakurai Sho and the Freedom segment. Sakurai Sho, the man who read the names.
While staff raced around and the production crew finalized everything for the nightly broadcast in the studio, Sho sat at his desk reading the names over and over. There could be no greater insult than to read a name incorrectly. They were double and triple checked to ensure that he had all the information he needed. Name, age, city. Sakurai Sho, 30, Tokyo. He wondered who'd read his name if they ever called him.
The sun set, and Sho whispered each name again and again. Tonight's highlighted hero was Morita Aya-san from Shimonoseki. A junior high school teacher, married, three children. They'd cue the montage of pictures. Morita-san and her students, Morita-san at a family gathering.
They usually let Sho go through the list and make the choice. Unless, of course, there was a celebrity called - then they got singled out no matter how many deserving people made up the other ninety-nine. The producers did the initial calls, getting in contact with the family or the person themselves. "We'd like to honor you on our broadcast. Could you part with some photographs?" After that, Sho followed up with questions of his own, figured out the most logical angle. That angle being one Producer Kimura would sign off on.
Kimura had vetoed him on a cabaret girl before. Too controversial. He'd gotten vetoed on a deadbeat father, a teenage delinquent, a convicted rapist. "But we call them all heroes," Sho usually argued. "Everyone should have an equal chance."
Kimura usually smiled in the way that made Sho's stomach turn. "We don't feature people that others are happy to be rid of."
With some time to spare before wardrobe and makeup, Sho checked and re-checked his bag. Two books for the flight - he usually slept through red-eye flights, but he was a creature of habit. An extra dress shirt, five different ties. Whatever worked best with the colors inside Manabe-san's home. Location shoots always made him nervous. He was used to just reading the names. It was always strange to meet them before they became a name on the air.
He had to anticipate how they'd react. Would they cry? Would they hold on to him? Would they say nothing at all? After all, he was the man who read the names. He was the kiss of death.
"Sho-kun."
Murao-san's hand on his shoulder made him jump, and the older man laughed at him. "Ah, Murao-san, I'm sorry."
"I'm the one who startled you," Murao said. There weren't too many people Sho could talk to about the burdens of his job, but Murao had mentored him for his entire tenure in the Freedom segment. The man had anchored the evening broadcast for over twenty years with a calm air and a finesse that Sho envied and desperately wanted to emulate.
"I was just about to head over to wardrobe."
"I'll walk with you," Murao said.
"I'm going down to Kagoshima. Ninety-five year old woman," Sho explained as they navigated their way out of the newsroom.
"Ninety-five!" Murao replied. "Wonderful. I bet she'll have an amazing perspective."
Let's hope so, Sho thought to himself. Of course Kimura and the rest of the production staff had called and spoken with Manabe-san's family. They'd been assured that the old woman was still sharp. Sho wouldn't be showing up to find an invalid in a hospital bed drooling, Kimura had said.
"Do you think you'll make it to ninety-five, Murao-san?"
"Hmm," he mused aloud. "I wonder. If I'm in decent health, it would be nice, but if I'm sickly, I hope not. How about you, Sho-kun?"
"Sixty-five years from now," Sho said. "I wonder what the world will be like then?"
Would there still be names to read? If that was the world in sixty-five years, Sho definitely hoped he'd be dead.
part two