Type 88

Part 2 - The Reaction, Chapter 3

3

Eighty-Two Days until the Deadline

Shiro watched as his garden filled with water. It was another cold, rainy afternoon. It had rained plenty this spring, and his plot didn't need any more to drink. He had lived through enough winters like the one Japan had just experienced to know that more rain was coming.

He planned to tend the garden as usual despite the year's uncertain future. The daily routine was always the same.

First he selected the next mix of seedlings in the flat, discarding the runts with his boot. Stomp, stomp, crunch. He could still hear his dad teaching this: "It takes a special breed to survive the storms of the garden."

Next he planted the seedlings, a few at a time to spread out the risk of flooding.

Finally he buried food—compost from garden scraps—to fatten the worms that tended his soil.

The routine restored a level of focus and perspective that he feared had decayed since the broadcast.

The day after the broadcast, Shiro, like many other world leaders, planned to address the nation. His advisors gave him a script and attached a note:

"Sir:

Your presence will assuredly help the citizens of Japan cope with present events.

We feel that encouraging the search for strength from within will keep morale high and prevent radicals from considering drastic action.

Stress the faith the Japanese should take in our militaristic might. We are prepared to handle any threat to our country.

We trust that you will take the attached script and use it as a basis for your speech."

Shiro didn't bother to read their script. He knew which lobbyists had influenced it, likely editing it themselves. Instead, he walked his own path in the address.

"Good day, men and women of Japan. 

We have received a direct threat. I stress now more than ever the need to examine the place we hold in our global society. 

I come to you with a simple plea. I call on all world leaders to reconcile their differences, curtail their armaments, and devote their energies to the establishment of universal peace. The only strategy toward this threat is the unification of humanity. From this, something more extraordinary than any one great nation will emerge—a world civilization. From universal peace, we will find peace within and prepare ourselves to face the great unknown. This will be our legacy. 

As individuals, we cannot do this alone. Each city, country, and continent cannot do this alone. We are all cut from the same cloth. What separates us are lines drawn in a previous age. There is one God of many faces. All the world's religions are from this God, and now is the time for humanity to recognize this. We have a unique opportunity to change the course of history. It starts today. 

Thank you."

***

The speech did not please his advisors, of course. They tracked the scent of lobbyist funding like dogs chasing an escaped convict through the woods. Most of this money funneled into the country's defense sector, which Shiro knew would parry with a response in a matter of time.

Tori knocked on the door to Shiro's study and opened it a crack, peering in.

"Tori, I promise you, this is more startling than walking in unannounced," Shiro said.

Tori nudged the door open and entered, smiling.

Shiro smiled in return, pulling his long gray hair back into a ponytail. "Much better," he said.

"Sir, General Sang's address is starting. He's going to discuss..." Her voice trailed off. "You know."

Shiro removed his glasses. The counterpunch. "Thank you, Tori," he said.

She scuttled from the room.

General Sang led Japan's military and had for the past decade. Despite Shiro's diplomatic and peaceful nature, he recognized Japan still had a powerful resource in its military's strength. Given his own lack of expertise in the area, he deferred to Sang's experience for those matters.

In the first five years of Shiro's reign, this proved to be a sensible approach. A country of Japan's economic size naturally drew enemies. Accordingly, he made sure that Japan's military was well funded—the dogs ate well from the trough. Most of this went toward research and development. Shiro considered this strategy a form of preventative peace.

Preventative peace did not last. Sang's ambition and aggression, which suited him well as a military leader, proved to exceed the position itself. He began to covet the prime minister post. He saw Shiro's advancing age as a sign of weakness.

Five years ago, Sang started giving national addresses to "increase public trust through greater transparency." In reality, he was on the campaign trail, winning the country over.

It worked. A wave of restlessness grew toward Shiro's peaceful policies. Shiro's lack of interest in Japan's military resources was now part of the public zeitgeist.

"Japan is vulnerable."

"Has the old man been pulling the veil over our eyes? How long can this strategy last? How much can we trust our so-called allies that he's keen to buddy up with? Are we safe?"

"Japan is vulnerable."

Sang became indispensable in the public's eyes—a hero, protecting his country from its increasingly decrepit leader. Shiro's demographic, the ones who showed up to Briar Patch Books on the day of the broadcast, was shrinking. If Shiro challenged the way Sang conducted his business, it would be the end of Shiro's run in office.

For years, Shiro had feared that a hint of conflict was all Sang needed to stir the country into hysteria. Fear, in Sang's hands, could be the most powerful weapon Japan had.

Sang never got his war. He got the broadcast.

***

Shiro turned on Sang's address.

The general approached the podium and addressed the camera, his brow furled. "Ladies and gentlemen, as you're all aware, we have received a direct and dangerous threat by an unknown force."

He paused, glaring into the camera as if he were trying to determine whether Shiro were watching on the other side, picking up what he was doing. "We cannot strike an accord with faceless evil. Our world has changed. We must reconsider diplomatic agreements arranged in the past. Without preventative action, Japan is vulnerable. Our nation's utmost priority is to seek and punish the cowards who issued this threat."

Another pause. Sang stared into the camera again, unflinching. He had deep bags under his eyes. A lampshade mustache covered his upper lip. His heavy jowls and deeply set dimples cast his face in a continuous scowl.

Shiro watched from his study, matching Sang's glare. Shiro's cat, Bagel, woke up and glanced in his direction from a rainy windowsill.

"But fear not. Under the guidance of our wise leader Shiro, Japan is and will continue to be the most capable country in the world at addressing matters such as these. We are prepared to protect our citizens from this threat. I can assure you, the prime minister and I are taking every action necessary to respond."

Shiro wondered when the last time he spoke with Sang was.

"We ask each of you to keep faith in our beautiful country. Look within yourselves—your loved ones, your friends, your family. Find strength at home as a proud citizen of Japan. Consider the bravery awarded to those in the Japanese military. Rise up, and join our ranks. We need your help protecting our borders and our skies now more than ever."

Shiro looked at Bagel. The cat's eyes were heavy.

"Big day," Shiro said, pinching Bagel's ears.

"This moment is our legacy. Together, we can overcome anything. Together, we are Japan. Thank you."

Shiro had work to do.