Type 88

Part 1 - The Broadcast, Chapter 1

You realize the sun doesn't go down.

It's just an illusion caused by the world spinning round.

—The Flaming Lips

1

Shiro Miyamoto rode in a small convoy moving toward Briar Patch Books. The independent bookstore had stood at the corner of Katsura Boulevard and Pagoda Avenue, in the heart of Japan's culturally evolving capital city, for 120 stubborn years.

The convoy idled a few blocks from the area where Shiro would address the two hundred or so people gathered to see him. A crowd of children pushed close to the security perimeter to catch a glimpse of the legend. He rolled down his window a few inches and gave the kids a wink. The group froze for a moment, then scattered. One small girl remained. She waved to him. Shiro stuck his hand halfway out the window and wiggled his fingers. The girl laughed and took off in the same direction as the others.

Security gave clearance, and his vehicle approached the site. Fathers held their children over their heads. Young adults, camped out for days to get a prime spot, sat feet from his car door. A security guard got out first, and camera flashes bombarded the vehicle. The man checked his earpiece and opened the door for Shiro.

Shiro's assistant, Tori, approached to help him out of the vehicle and hand him his cane. Shiro made his way out of the back seat, waved (the camera flashes found their mark this time), and shook hands with a few members of the front row before approaching the podium steps. He declined Tori's invitation to aid him up the staircase—he didn't need to appear as old and weak as he felt—and made his way up to the stand on his own.

After a prolonged round of applause and photos, Shiro gently waved down the crowd's enthusiasm. He looked up at the sky. It was a beautiful spring afternoon. Drongo birds flew overhead, and the sun warmed his bones. He closed his eyes and smiled.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. I'm extremely honored to receive this generous hospitality at Briar Patch Books, an iconic Japanese institution. I'd like to welcome our gracious hosts, George and Tu Grant, up to the stage." Shiro backed away and kicked off the applause for the two elderly shop owners.

The old couple shot up to meet Shiro with surprising spryness. Tu, a small woman in her early eighties, greeted him with a deep bow. Tears formed in her eyes as she straightened up. To the crowd's delight, Shiro reached in his coat and offered her a tissue. George, a lanky man of similar age, followed suit with a bow of his own.

Shiro addressed the crowd for the better part of an hour, delivering a message of empathy, togetherness, and peace. He had advocated for these values in both lecture and policy since he was appointed prime minister a decade ago. In the first half of his tenure, many attributed the country's prosperity to this demeanor. The demographic represented by the crowd at Briar Patch Books today had fond impressions of these years.

At the end of Shiro's speech, George took the podium to unveil a new mural on the store's west wall, commemorating Shiro's visit.

Shiro backed to the edge of the stage so he could take in the whole scene. A few attendees pulled off the sheet that covered the wall. The unveiled image depicted a much younger Shiro studying at the store. This was something he often did during his time at the university a few blocks from there. He turned to George and Tu and offered a deep bow, delighting the crowd again.

He thanked everyone for coming out and asked for patience while he walked through the store. He'd take the time to listen and speak with each in attendance afterward.

He made his way down the staircase, arm in arm with Tu. Flashbulbs illuminated the afternoon sky.

As he neared the bottom, a booming voice interrupted over the event speakers, rattling the stage. Shiro's podium toppled off the front of the platform. He lost his balance on the steps, nearly falling and taking Tu with him.

"PLEASE PAY ATTENTION. THIS BROADCAST WILL REPEAT THREE TIMES..."