Colonel Kita is a tall woman with red hair and two sheathed swords on her belt. The lieutenant has a metal arm under his uniform and wears a beret rather than the traditional cap.
“Next week is an important week for all of you,” Colonel Kita states. “Many of you will have your futures determined by your imperial examination scores. There is no greater glory than serving your country through military service. I have served for two decades, and it is always humbling to realize the great responsibility thrust upon us. Not only are we protecting the United States of Japan, but we are preserving order and a way of life that is in harmony with the universe. How many of you plan on taking the military supplemental exams?”
A quarter of the students raise their hands. She asks the other students to applaud those who are striving to enter the military.
That’s when the ground shakes. I feel a flutter in my chest. Could it be? The second tremor confirms it, and there are awed gasps as we see the figure coming closer.
It is a mecha, shaped like a huge suit of samurai armor. Even though it’s bigger than the tallest building in Granada Hills, it’s much smaller than the Korosu class. From the looks of it, it’s a reconnaissance mecha, quick, stealthy, and hard to detect when it doesn’t want to be found. It’s sleek and has chest plates designed to deflect sensors or absorb their waves when that is impossible.
“This is the Taka,” the colonel says. “I have a crew of fourteen of the finest soldiers in the mecha corps. We have been serving together for the past three years, and we’ll be giving demonstrations for select cadets.”
The Taka stops right outside the school. Over the gate, I see the shin guard, the retractable knees, the searchlights in the hips, all culminating in the main armor shaped like a classical samurai’s haramaki-dō. The separated plates are usually there to hide weapons and circuitry, as well as for ventilation purposes in case there is any overheating during combat. The reconnaissance mechas handle heat very well, though, and the purpose of the detached plates might be for a refractory effect, which is only rumored at, never confirmed. Some of the prototype mechas reportedly have a type of camouflage, similar to that on our cars, which makes them practically transparent when they need to be.
I’ve battled digital mechas in the simulation multiple times. But seeing them in real life is indescribable. I wonder if my parents felt the same sense of awe every time they got on board a mecha.
The two officers personally inspect us, walking down the aisles, asking each of us our names, and, “Which section are you testing for?”
Some answer navy, gaming division, etc. Eight students in my homeroom state their intent to apply for the mecha corps, which elicits pride in the officers. The colonel and lieutenant even know Noriko and greet her by name.
“Based on all we’ve heard, you’ll make your parents proud,” the colonel says.
“I hope so, ma’am,” Nori replies.
“I’ll personally be reviewing your sim test next week.”
They finally get to me, and the lieutenant asks, “Which unit are you aiming for?”
“Mecha corps,” I proudly answer, excited at the chance to meet a mecha pilot in person.
They both hesitate. Lieutenant Yukimara says firmly, “Our corps is one of the most difficult units to get into. Are you prepared?”
“Yes, sir.”
The lieutenant looks me up and down. “You don’t look like you’re in shape. Do you think we take just anyone in the corps?”
“N-no, sir.”
Based on his expression, the lieutenant is about to say something even harsher, but the colonel stops him. They move to the next student. I look down at my stomach. I’ve tried to control my eating, exercise as much as I can. But it’s been a tough year, and the best way to make myself feel better is a combination of coconut coffee, strawberry shortcake with chocolate crumbs, and shrimp chips.
The review is finished an hour later, and we’re allowed to approach the Taka. It is even more marvelous up close. The officers take Noriko and three other students into the mecha. I feel a pang of envy, but it also motivates me to work harder, so I’ll get my chance one day. When I’m back in my apartment thirty minutes later, I read up everything I can on reconnaissance mechas.
* * *
• • •
I share my small room with three others. I’m on the bunk bed in the upper-left side. We have concrete floors, which makes them too cold to walk on without socks. We don’t have climate control, so on some nights when it gets too hot, I’ll sleep on the ground to cool myself. Someone let a fly in, and it’s buzzing around. My three other roommates are out, probably studying at the library. I have several messages from Hideki, asking me to meet him at a nearby café to study. A part of me wants to start my new life on Cat Odyssey. But I promised no more gaming until after the exam. I message Hideki and tell him I’ll meet him there. I exit my apartment, go to the communal bathroom to wash up, and leave my building. The security guard is busy watching a dating show on his portical where people dress up as animals and spend time in zoos so people can gawk at them.
Hideki is at Penny’s, which is just two kilometers away. I pass by several carts selling udon and other nightly snacks for students. The smell of fish broth and tempura wafts past me, making me hungry. War orphans like me are given weekly stipends as part of a fund for children of veterans who passed away in battle. We’re also granted generous discounts on everything.
Penny’s Café is next to ten other coffee shops. The façade is a gigantic copper penny with the face of Abraham Lincoln, an old American warlord who savagely crushed a rebellion started by the southern half of the United States. Inside, the walls are covered with coins from foreign nations that joined the Empire, including a whole lot of American pennies.
Hideki is studying on his portical. Griselda is with some friends, but she waves at me when I enter and comes over.
I order a cup of coconut coffee and shrimp chips, then feel guilty as I recall the conversation with the officers. I’ll work on losing weight after the exam since I’ve read that caffeine is supposed to boost memory and I need a boost badly, as I have to memorize a million details about generals and battle dates. 1948, July 4, the USA becomes the USJ. 1950, September 9, Germany and Japan establish the Unity Zone (UZ) at Texas (though it would come to be called the Quiet Border by both sides). 1958, Germany launches a sneak attack on Texas, and a group of our mechas known as the Twelve Disciples stops them. I read about the Nazi attempt to create their own mechas and their desire to inject a biological component to them, resulting in the monstrosities known initially as the biomorphs and more recently as the biomechs. There are too many dates to remember.
“The mecha today was cool,” Hideki says. “You really think you’re going to get to pilot one?”
I tell the two of them about my short exchange with the officer.
Griselda smiles mischievously.
“What?” I ask.
“At least you made an impression.”
“A bad one,” I say.
She pokes me in my stomach. “They have a point. You wanna jog with me every morning?”
“I would if I could wake up.”
“Discipline,” she says. “I jog even if I haven’t slept the night before. Soldiers need to be in tip-top shape always.”
“After the exam, I’ll join you every morning.”
“I hate running,” Hideki groans. “No way I’m waking up at five in the morning to run.”
“You run at five every morning?” I ask her.
She nods. “Early bird rules all the worms.”
“Half the worms,” Hideki objects.
She laughs, eats one of her chocolates, specially branded as the United Chocolates of Japan from the best chocolate makers in the world, Menkes. “That one chocolate pretty much nullified jogging the last three mornings.”
&nbs
p; “Was it worth it?” I ask her.
“Absolutely,” she answers. “Want one?”
I get to studying with Hideki after drinking some milk chocolate. Some students have turned on the popular show, Drink Don’t Die, which is a competition to get as drunk as possible and brave dangerous obstacle courses.
“Look at this guy!” Griselda says to us.
We watch her screen. A man is sucking his thumb and rolling on the ground, acting like a baby and screaming at everyone around him. All three of us laugh at his preposterous performance as we switch the camera angles, zoom in and out, then rate his likability factor.
The show cuts away, and broadcasters inform us they’ve arrested three new members of the National Revolutionaries of America (NARA). They’re a fringe terrorist group who believe America should become independent again. A city official thanks the local police, and broadcasters reveal they were trying to perpetrate an attack at a sumo-wrestling match. Griselda and Hideki are annoyed that their show has been interrupted.
I remember a few years ago I was at the Gogo Arcade when the George Washingtons released their game, the USA. Gamers took interest for a short time, but the controls were too clunky, and the whole scenario, where America won the Pacific War, was too implausible to take seriously. I’ve been reading and rereading that history for the exam, so I know we had all the resources of Asia and Europe behind us. Plus, we had nuclear weapons. What could the American forces do? Still, USA became popular just because it was forbidden and for a while, it was all the rage until the Liquid Gear games came out a few months later to critical acclaim (I was addicted to each game) and Cat Odyssey after that.
We notice there is a commotion in the room. Everyone is staring at their porticals. On the wall display, there is footage of a huge fire. Someone turns up the volume.
“—from the Rio Grande. There are still unconfirmed reports that—” I don’t wait for the broadcaster. I flip open my portical and read the California Nippon News.
“Attack on the Texas Sonic Line,” the headline reads.
One of our trains has been attacked, and there are only eleven survivors, but they’re not expected to make it through the night. No one knows who the culprits are. Footage from a security recording of the explosion plays. The bullet train, or Shinkansen, is going at the speed of sound when, suddenly, birds scatter from a tree. I don’t see anything that could have caused the motion, but then, the second car in the train is crushed down as though something hammered it. The back of the train slams into the second car, and a pileup ensues as the rest of the train derails. The earlier arrest of the NARA members makes me wonder if the two events are somehow connected.
“They should require all the terrorists they capture to go on Drink Don’t Die,” Griselda grumbles.
Try as hard as I can, it’s hard for me to get back to studying. I have this terrible habit of imagining people’s last moments as they die. Those people in the train were most likely on their porticals, having no idea their lives were going to be snuffed out. Maybe dining on a bento box, some of the older generation listening to an old Enka ballad, then blink and gone.
“Excuse me, everyone.” The manager of the café is at the central platform and bows. “I’m very sorry. The local police have requested all public places close immediately and that students return home as quickly as possible.” This would feel less surreal if he wasn’t wearing a big penny hat and a baldric of pennies over his shoulder.
We pack our stuff and walk out. Griselda lives in the opposite direction from us, and I offer to walk her home.
“Who says USJ men aren’t chivalrous?” she asks. She holds both our arms, and says, “But I should actually be offering to walk both of you home as you’ll need my protection in case the bad guys attack.”
“What’s that mean?” Hideki asks.
She puts both her fists up. “It means I’d love to punch out some of those terrorists. Stick and move, Mac, stick and move. You don’t know how much destruction they’re causing in the Reich.” She grins at both of us. “Don’t worry about me. Just get yourselves home safely. Jaa ne.”
She skips away.
“Want to play Cat Odyssey tonight?” Hideki asks.
“But the Gogo Arcade—”
“Never closes.”
I wouldn’t have been able to sleep anyway.
* * *
• • •
It’s almost morning, and I’ve made headway with multiple quests. I’m about to log off when three older gamers approach me, and say, “Time to quit the game and make room for the pros.”
I’m about to tell them I’m almost done, but they shut off my game before I can save my progress. “What the hell?” I exclaim. “I didn’t save yet.”
“You got a problem, kid?”
“It’s time for school. Get out of here.”
They’re too big for me to challenge, but I’m still pissed they didn’t let me save my game. Before I can say anything, Hideki pulls me away.
I want to protest, but Hideki asks me to give him my portical, which I do. He connects it to his own, hands it back to me a minute later. Behind us, the three have started their game of Cat Odyssey. Hideki asks me to activate a program. I recognize it as a type of kikkai disruptor, which locks onto the portical links of the three who took over my stall.
“Push the button,” he tells me.
I do, and a surge hits their porticals, disrupting their connections. They can’t connect with the arcade. I hear them yelling, frustrated.
“How long does it last?”
“Could be permanent, could be a few days, depending on their skill level.” Hideki laughs. “I developed it because too many people tried to bully me off my games.”
“You use it a lot?”
“All the time. I’ve put it on your portical, so you can use it whenever you want. Best thing is, it works on any portical.” He demonstrates on a few others and laughs when he sees that mayhem ensues.
Typical Hideki.
We head for school but arrive at the subway station a minute late. The train has already taken off. We wait on a bench. Hideki falls asleep on my shoulder and snores. I wake him when spit from his mouth is about to drop onto my shoulder.
“Why you wake me up?” Hideki asks, irritated.
“You were snoring.”
He rubs his face, gets the discharge out of his eyes with his middle finger. “I just had this dream that I was in a city full of prehistoric supermosquitoes that hunted everyone down so they could suck their blood.”
“Sounds juicy,” I mutter back.
The train arrives, and we hop aboard. On the portical displays on the subway walls, California Nippon News gives updates on the Rio Grande situation. I’m relieved to see Colonel Yamaoka, one of our war heroes from San Diego.
“It’s still too early to determine what happened,” he states. “We’re investigating, but we won’t be giving any updates until we know what happened.”
“Is there a link to the NARA?” a reporter asks.
“At the moment, we’re not sure.”
“Is there a possibility this could mean the reemergence of the George Washingtons?”
Colonel Yamaoka shakes his head, and the gesture carries gravity as he helped us vanquish them. “Intelligence reports indicate that the last of the George Washingtons were eliminated in the second San Diego Conflict.”
“Has there been any comment from the German embassy?”
The Rio Grande is located at the Quiet Border, where our two empires meet.
“They’ve expressed their condolences and have offered their assistan—”
All of a sudden, the train comes to a stop. I look around and see fear in everyone’s eye, the same impulse that’s swelling up inside me. Is something happening? Are we under attack? I want to get out, break the window if I can escape. But ther
e’s nowhere to go. One man yells, “Why aren’t we moving?”
My throat feels acutely dry. The news broadcaster is still describing the Rio Grande. It would be so unfair if this is the way things end.
The train stutters, then continues as though nothing happened. All of us hold our breaths, unsure what’s going on. When we actually arrive at the next stop, I breathe in relief, grateful that I’m alive.
I wake Hideki up. “Are we there yet?” he asks.
“One stop away,” I answer. I feel stupidly nervous about the train. “Do you mind if we walk the rest of the way?”
He shrugs. “Sure.”
We arrive at school fifteen minutes late, causing us to miss the morning pledge. I feel bad and am ready to apologize on both our behalves. Our homeroom teacher, Joshuyo-san, is waiting.
“Why are you tardy today?” he angrily demands.
“I’m sorry, sir,” I say and bow. “It was my fault. There was a problem on the subway, and—”
“Hideki! Why are you late?” our teacher asks, ignoring my answer.
“Because we decided to walk instead of taking the subway,” Hideki truthfully answers, which surprises me. There is a hint of insolence in his voice, which our teacher immediately catches. Ever since Joshuyo-san beat him last year for tardiness, there’s been a palpable tension between the two.
“Why’s that?”
“I wanted fresh air.”
“You wanted fresh air?” He nods and seems accepting until he strikes both of us in the mouth with his fist. “This is your last week before the imperial exam, and you want fresh air! What would your parents think? They sacrificed their lives in San Diego so you could live!” he yells in front of the whole class. “Hands out!” He is going to make an example out of us. “Hands out!”
We raise our hands, palms up. Our teacher uses a thick metal stick and beats down as hard as he can. I yell out loud, knowing he wants to hear us cry. When it comes to Hideki, there is a loud slap. But Hideki doesn’t make a noise. The teacher doesn’t like that and strikes his hands again. This time, Hideki smirks at him. Has he lost his mind? Joshuyo-san is furious, and asks, “Do you find this amusing?”
Mecha Samurai Empire (A United States of Japan Novel) Page 3