Read United States of Japan Online
Authors: Peter Tieryas
United States of Japan (17 page)
That’s when a mecha focused its aim on him. Spotlights shone his way. Ben triggered an emergency SOS in the portical and yelled into the portical’s microphone, “I’m a captain in the USJ! My name is Beniko Ishimura and we have General Mutsuraga’s head. We have vital information about the Americans. My partner, Agent Akiko Tsukino, is wounded and we need emergency assis–” He felt a burst of heat perforating his chest, a bright light coming from the mecha. Memories popped up like fireflies and he thought of nights cavorting in San Diego, the tawny sunsets along La Jolla. He recalled all the times he’d talked with Claire about portical games like the ones he’d played as a child and the one he’d always hoped to make, creating a USA that still represented its old values. He was happy to know people were playing it, especially what remained of the Americans. His chest had split open, his legs were crumbling, and his neck felt as if it was boiling. He recalled the day his father and mother called him in to tell–
–his corpse crumbled to the ground. A minute later, kamikaze American cars drove over where he’d died, covering his remains. There were four dozen in all, the American dream shooting straight for the impregnable Imperial walls, ready to sacrifice everything for the possibility of change. The automobiles exploded in a conflagration that destroyed the previously untouched gate. Neither the Americans nor Beniko Ishimura found out what was inside. But it was only a matter of time and lives before others would.
NORTH OF SAN DIEGO
July 5, 1988
5:23am
A song she didn’t recognize called to Akiko. She was dreaming of the end of the world. Memories haemorrhaged out in one hungry swoop and the nerves swerved erratically in her subconscious consciousness. Time was a type of gangrene, rotting away her convictions. “It’s fortunate one of our operators noticed the communication from your partner. We weren’t able to save him, but you’re going to be OK, major,” someone said.
She saw a world molded from molten wax. Everyone ate insects and dyed poison for breakfast. An American flag was waving. There were sixteen strangers claiming to be president. A migrant carpet of pollution was blocking her view. All the poets were kleptomaniacs. Convictions were a revolving Petri dish. The planet was getting warmer even though everyone denied the hurricanes their potency. Historians and bored amateurs erased history, said her Empire was forced into a war they did not want to fight, that all its victories were exaggerated propaganda and that millions were not killed in their march to glory. She wanted to weep, seeing the Empire she loved unable to control its own fate, the lethality of its own past defanged in misdirected shame.
“The GWs infiltrated Los Angeles and set off bombs at five of our installations along with three civilian targets,” she heard. “The casualties are in the thousands and we still have no idea how many more bombs there are. There’s an enforced news blackout. The prince has already flown back to Tokyo along with our visitors from Tokyo Command. They’re very displeased. Governor Ogasawara wants immediate results.”
Akiko’s vision was getting blurry. She longed for miniverses created from hydrogenated molecules and defunct chemical compounds. Insecticide warped all their minds into electrified modules and shaped their lives into honeycombs of ignorance. Hexagonal bliss had its advantages and peace had plenty of disadvantages, drowning itself in interminable entertainment. The important stakes were forgotten. Nations warred over anthills and pride. There was no mountains of the dead. Only billions of voices, each fanatically demanding to be heard even if it resulted in sensory indifference.
“Can she hear me?”
“She’s under heavy anesthetics, but she should be able to.”
“Major Tsukino. Major Tsukino!”
Akiko looked up and saw several high ranking officers watching her. They were all ten feet tall and wearing samurai armor. Was this her universe again?
“You’ve performed a great service for the Empire, bringing back General Mutsuraga’s head. Our medics say you’ll be OK and they’ll have you on your feet in a few days. You should be proud. You’re a hero to the United States of–”
She closed her eyes and focused on the music. An unknown violinist was playing an American song she’d once heard before, full of the virulent gleam of hope. It was beautiful. Akiko wept.
TWENTY-EIGHT YEARS AGO
LOS ANGELES
July 6, 1960
4:12pm
Ezekiel Ishimura was fuming. He worked as a technician, converting old sonar panels into war game consoles. He’d been assigned a tank incursion from the Battle of Imphal in India, but he couldn’t get the commands to work properly. A hundred other technicians sat in the same big hall, desks arrayed in ten straight rows of ten workers. The high ceilings and concrete floor made the temperature inside either too hot or too cold. The summer sun made it feel like an oven. His hands felt clunky and the sweat on his fingers made precise motions difficult. He wished his son, Ben, was here to help him figure out the bugs. Even at his young age, he had an intuitive knack for figuring out coding logic. A noisy commotion disturbed his train of thought. Four soldiers in uniform were marching towards him. Ezekiel’s hands froze and he wondered what he’d done wrong. They stopped in front of him, turned right, and grabbed his neighbor, a man named Tenzo. Tenzo began to protest, yelling, “I’m innocent. I didn’t do anything wrong!”
They put a bag around his head, handcuffed him, and punched him in the stomach, warning him, “If you don’t keep quiet, it’ll be worse for your family.”
They dragged him out. Everyone went back to their tasks as though nothing had happened. Twenty minutes later, another technician was brought in to take Tenzo’s old station. Ezekiel’s hands were quivering, unable to connect the wires properly. His arm hurt from the increased typing he’d been doing of late, which had forced him to type only with his index fingers. But that increased the number of errors he made and irritated his supervisor, Mogi-san. Mogi-san summoned him for a meeting before the end of the day.
His supervisor was a scurrilous man who found fault with everyone. Considering he was more afraid for his job than anyone else, Ezekiel almost couldn’t blame him. “This is the fourth late tank report you’ve sent,” Mogi-san coolly noted.
Ezekiel bowed and apologized. “Forgive me.”
“The first three times, I was willing to overlook it. But the fourth time? My superiors would think me negligent. I’ve given you a fair shake considering your mixed ethnicity and your family connections with known traitors.”
“I’m extremely grateful,” Ezekiel said, hating the reminder about his uncle, who had been executed for insurrection almost a decade ago.
“Are you? I’ve heard reports from some of your colleagues that you’re discontented, that you’ve complained you miss American rule and the way things used to be.”
“Never, never,” Ezekiel emphatically declared. “I don’t miss their rule at all. I was imprisoned by them. I am eternally grateful to the Emperor for saving us.”
“That’s why I disregarded the rumors. But there may be others who aren’t so trusting.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your outward incompetence in conjunction with these rumors and questionable past has brought you to the attention of the Tokko
.
They came by earlier to ask questions. Do you know what that means?”
“No. Wh-what does that mean?”
“Go home and take care of business.”
Ezekiel’s eyes widened. “Are you… Are you telling me…”
Mogi-san nodded, either in apathy or restrained sympathy. “It will most likely be tomorrow morning.”
“B-but I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“You can explain it to them tomorrow, or take care of matters tonight.”
“My family too?”
“You know how it is. Make your last minutes count.”
Ezekiel rushed out of the building, grabbed a bus, and spent the whole trip thinking about Ruth and little Beniko. The roads were congested and many of the streets were blocked because of the new subway construction. One of the alternate routes they were forced to take went beside a square where a family was publicly executed for treason. The transition from the dollar to the yen had been harsh, and most of the old Americans still had a hard time adjusting to their new economic devaluation, meaning dissidence had been increasing. The USJ was doing its best to quell discontent with these public punishments.
By the time he arrived home at their one-bedroom apartment, Ruth was cooking rice porridge using the cheap millet they’d stocked up on. They had no meat since they could only afford it once a week (and there was usually more fat than meat on the pork). She had been able to use the scraps from the tomato they’d cooked the previous night to add a touch of flavor. She looked skinnier than a month ago and there were dark hollows on her face from being unable to sleep. Just outside were train tracks and one was going by, causing the whole building to shake as it blared its horn.
He clinched her tightly. “We’re in trouble.”
“What happened?” Ruth asked.
“They’re coming for us.”
“Who?”
“The Tokko,” Ezekiel replied.
“What for?”
“I don’t know. It could be a hundred things. Or it could be none of them.”
“Did you say anything?”
Just a week ago, he’d been talking to Tenzo, his neighbor at work who had been arrested. Tenzo complained about their Japanese overlords, how few opportunities they gave other than to their lackeys and how the economy was in a complete rut. Ezekiel had tried to calm his office mate, urging him to “be discreet and not complain too much. At least we’re alive.” Tenzo didn’t care, vocal in his malcontent to the point where a few coworkers had noticed their exchange.
“What will the Tokko do?” Ruth asked.
“Tenzo and his family are most likely being tortured right now.”
“That means–”
“The same thing will happen to us.”
Ruth shook her head. “They might just question you. The–”
“Mogi-san more or less told me to settle matters tonight.”
“Settle matters?”
Ezekiel’s eyes went to his feet and he could not look Ruth in the eyes. The door unlocked and their eleven year-old son, Ben, arrived from a day at school. He was carrying a broken portical.
Ezekiel didn’t know what to do, couldn’t imagine the soldiers putting their hands on him. But Ruth was more clearheaded and went to Ben, holding both his arms. She knew lies to soothe him would be a travesty at this critical juncture.
“USJ officers are coming to arrest me and your father,” she informed Ben.
“Why?”
“They think we’re traitors.”
“Tell them you’re not.”
“They wouldn’t believe me.” Ruth stared at Ben for a long time. “My parents died when I was young and I hoped for a different life for you, that we would be there to take care of you. I’m sorry for what we’re about to ask you to do.”
“What?”
She looked at Ezekiel, then said to Ben, “Go to the police station and ask for Detective Mifune. Report us to the authorities.”
“What are you doing?” Ezekiel asked.
“It’s the only way he’ll survive.”
“But you’re asking him–”
“I know what I’m asking,” Ruth replied. “But if he doesn’t, he’ll be killed with us.” She looked back at Ben. “Tell them you heard us talking against the Empire while you were eating.”
“Tell them your mother opposed, but I stubbornly insisted,” Ezekiel added.
“Ezekiel…” Ruth began.
“You might still have a chance,” Ezekiel said to Ruth.
“It’s both of us or they won’t believe it,” Ruth said, knowing that she too had said her share of criticisms about the Empire. She took a deep breath and looked at her son again. “Ben. I want you to slap me.”
“Mom.”
“Slap me.”
When Ben hesitated, Ruth slapped Ben in the face. “Slap me.”
“Bu–”
Ruth slapped him again. “Hit me!”
“D–”
“HIT ME!”
Ben complied, but it was a soft blow.
“Harder.”
“I don’t want to.”
“HIT ME HARDER!”
“Mom.”
“HARDER!”
Ben punched his mother.
“Now curse us,” Ruth ordered.
“I can’t.”
“Call me a traitor! Call me a coward.”
“Mom!”
“This is the only way you can survive. Otherwise, they’ll kill you too.”
“But–”
“If you don’t do what I say, they’ll kill you.”
“Then I don’t want to live.”
“You want our deaths to mean nothing?” Ruth asked. “Please, Ben, do it for us.”
“Ruth,” Ezekiel called. “You know what this means for him.”
“Life,” Ruth replied. “Survival.”
“Why do I have to survive? I hate this world, hate everything about it,” Ben said. “I’ll kill everyone in the Empire! I’ll make them pay!”
“No!” Ruth shouted. “Then you’ll be no better than them.”
“They’re evil!”
“There’s no ideology, only people. And there are many good people in the USJ, even if there are many bad ones too.” She got wistful. “There used to be a place called America people could believe in, a land of freedom. The physical place died, but the dream lives. Give the USJ a dream to believe in.”
“How? What am I supposed to do without you?”
“You’ll find a way,” she said, then stared at the portical he was holding. “You handle these better than your father.”
“They’re just games.”
“Maybe. But they can be so much more if you can find a way,” Ruth replied. “Join the ranks, become an officer. Maybe one day they’ll call you
Major
Ishimura. But you have to be strong. Do you hear me?”
“No, I don’t. I- I can’t do this,” Ben said. “How could I ever join the military? They’d never accept me. They… They…”
Ezekiel held his son. Ruth embraced them. She was weeping.
Ezekiel kissed his son on the forehead.
“Dad–”
“Go before it’s too late.”
“But–”
“Go now!” Ezekiel ordered.
Ben shook his head and was crying. “I’d rather die!”
Ruth put her arms around her son, patted his head, and said, “You’re the bravest boy I know.” She wiped his tears away. “Live your life so that our sacrifice has meaning. Go quickly, Beniko.” She pushed him away and, when he tried to hold her again, she sternly refused. “Did you hear what I said? Go now!”
“But Mom–”
“I’m no longer your mother. He’s no longer your father. We are enemies of the Empire. Do you understand?”
“No. I don’t understand at all!”
She went to the bedroom and returned with a pistol, a Nambu Type 18 semi-automatic pistol. She pointed at her son. “Go now.”
“But–”
“Go now or I will kill you, because that’ll be a better fate than if you stay here!”
She pushed Ben out of the apartment and locked the door behind him. He knocked several times, but they ignored him. He eventually ran away. She put her fingers on the door and muttered, “Sayonara,” doing her best to hold back bitter tears.
“He’ll be fine,” Ezekiel said. “Ishimuras are strong. You know that.”
“I hope so…”
“I-I should never have let you marry me. I’m sorry.”
“What are you talking about?”
“My past, my whole life, has been nothing but a burden to you. I’ve caused you nothing but misery.”
“Don’t talk like that. We did the best with what we could.”
“Did we really?”
“Yes. Don’t be weak right now.”
“Do you regret marrying a traitor?”
“You’re not a traitor.”
“I’ve betrayed the whole world for you,” Ezekiel replied.
“So have I.” She blinked back tears. “How long before they come?”
“I don’t know.”
“In the next life, let’s switch places,” Ruth said. “I’ll be the man.”
“You sure you’ll still have eyes for me?”
Ruth put her hands on his cheeks. “Always.”
“I love you,” Ezekiel said to her.
“How much?”
He’d already used the stars in the universe and the sand in the ocean countless times. “As many as the number of hairs on my head.”
“You don’t have that much hair,” she said.
They both laughed and held each other for another minute before walking into the bathroom. Ruth held the pistol. “Remember this?”
“Is it the same one?”
She shook her head. “Same model. Something poetic about using this gun.”
“Like a haiku.”
“I’ve never been good at haikus.”
“Me neither,” Ruth confessed.
Ezekiel got nervous and said in a panic, “I never thought it would be like this. I always thought things would get better, that it would improve and–”
“Shh. Don’t be afraid,” Ruth said. “It’ll be over soon.”
Another train began to go by. Two gunshots marked the end, but no one heard them.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
United States of Japan
wouldn’t exist without some wonderful people. Obviously, the first person I want to thank is Philip K Dick who inspired me a great deal growing up, especially through
The Man in the High Castle
. Even though we’re very different writers, he’s had a huge influence on me and helped me to view the world in a completely unique light.
I wanted to make sure to get the facts right, as the history and tragedy of all those who suffered during the events of WWII were always on my mind. I want to give credit to some of the many books I looked to for research and information, including, but not limited to:
The Rising Sun
by John Toland,
Japan’s Imperial Army
by Edward Drea,
A Modern History of Japan
by Andrew Gordon,
Taiko
by Eiji Yoshikawa,
Inside the Third Reich
by Albert Speer,
Hirohito and the Making of Modern Japan
by Herbert Bix,
Japanese Cruisers of the Pacific War
by Eric Lacroix and Linton Wells II,
The Shifting Realities of Philip K Dick
by PKD (which has some of the ideas he had for a
The Man in the High Castle
sequel),
The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich
by William L Shirer,
A Book of Five Rings
by Miyamoto Musashi,
Return to the Philippines
by Rafael Steinberg,
Japan at War: An Oral History
by Haruko Taya Cook & Theodore F Cook,
Shogun
by James Clavell,
The Rape of Nanking
by Iris Chang,
The Moon is Down
by John Steinbeck, and so many more, not to mention countless articles, films, and documentaries, which were invaluable for me to better understand the times.
Japanese culture has always been a huge influence and artists/writers/designers like Hayao Miyazaki, Hideo Kojima, Yukio Mishima, Yukito Kishiro, Mamoru Oshii, Hideaki Anno, Kinji Fukasaku, Rieko Kodama, Hironobu Sakaguchi, Akira Kurosawa, and Katsuhiro Otomo were people whose works I revered growing up. I highly recommend a trip to the San Jose Japanese American Museum, especially their guided tours. That trip ended up shocking me to the core and informing a key part of the book. I wanted to thank Ken Liu for writing
The Man Who Ended History: A Documentary
. When I finished my first draft of
USJ
, I was very scared because of the material it covered and I found a lot of courage reading Ken’s superb novella.
Big thanks to the very talented John Liberto for painting the cover of
USJ
as well as the incredible concept art he did for the book. I am in awe of his genius and am still so honored that he made time to paint the cover! Thank you to my friend, Geoff Hemphill, for introducing me to John, as well always being so encouraging through the tough times. You’re one of my closest friends and I am always grateful to you for your witty insight and honesty. A deep expression of gratitude for Sam Boettner, aka Chang Yune, for all the fantastic questions and enthusiasm for the project, as well as some really great fan art. Bonny John, your depiction of biomorphs still gives me chills. Richard Thomas, thank you for being one of the first readers, as well as for all your wonderful advice in crafting the world of
USJ
. James Chiang, one day we’ll get to
Dr 2
, but in the meantime, I wanted to thank you for your wisdom, patience, and your friendship. Many of the things I researched about Japan started with our graphic novel and I can’t wait to finish it with you. And, of course, I always thank God.
Judy Hansen! You’re my dream agent and I’m so lucky you represent me! Thank you for always fielding my stream of questions and for your guidance through the publishing world.
Big thanks to the love of my life, Angela Xu, without whom I wouldn’t be half the writer I am. I bounce all my ideas off her, constantly ask her about everything, and field her for suggestions when I’m stuck in my stories. She watches all the movies with me, plays games that I look to for inspiration, and is the best friend I could ever have. Thank you for everything.
The crew at Angry Robot are so amazing and I am so grateful to them for taking a chance on this novel and believing in it every step of the way. They are literally my dream publisher and working with them has been a dream come true. Thank you, Penny Reeves, for being the most amazing publicity manager and just an incredible person. Chances are, if you’ve heard about
USJ
in a media outlet, it’s thanks to her efforts. I’m a big fan of Mike Underwood’s writing and it was so incredible always being able to lean on him for advice on pretty much everything. If you like the cover of
United States of Japan
, thank Marc Gascoigne for his brilliant cover art direction and just being a kick-ass publisher. Paul Simpson did a fantastic job with the copy editing, poring over every line and making sure everything was technically sound. Amanda Rutter and Trish Byrne caught all the little things that slipped through the cracks and were wonderful proofreaders.
I have to thank my editor, Phil Jourdan, to whom this book is dedicated. Thank you for believing in me, for seeing things in the book even I didn’t see, and for giving me the opportunity to share my strange stories. You’re one of the best editors around and it’s been my privilege to work with you.
If I thanked everyone who’s been supportive of
USJ
from its announcement to its release, I think I would literally have to name everyone I know. Thank you everyone for your generosity, your kind words, and your faith in the project.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Peter Tieryas is a character artist who has worked on films like
Guardians of the Galaxy, Alice in Wonderland
and
Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs 2
. His novel,
Bald New World
, was listed as one of Buzzfeed’s 15 Highly Anticipated Books as well as Publishers Weekly’s Best Science Fiction Books of Summer 2014.