A Fox in the Adder Den

Shinya's stomach churned with the waves; he'd never been on a ship and would never again if he could help it. He pulled out a soggy cigarette and tried to light it just for the habit. He struck the wheel just to hear the click; he'd shear the skin off his thumb just to keep it going.

The barge was packed like sardines; passengers pushed against the railing and piled atop each other on both stories. Shinya figured only half of them wanted to be here. The gal next to him probably ran out of beer money; the old man with a crown of silver hair and too great an interest in the gal wasn't wanted anywhere. Shinya moved between them with no comment, irritating the elder. A flabby NEET, eyes glazed to his console, was finally kicked out when Papa grew a spine and showed him tough love. Dreary and dreadful looks on his new neighbors’ faces told him that this was not an easy decision for anyone. At least they had a choice.

Shinya was set to be released in his 40s when the Warden entered his cell. He didn’t mince words; he had one chance to be paroled early, and it was joining this program. He wasn’t going to say it twice. Shinya was skeptical, but he wasn’t one to avoid risks. It’s what got him there to begin with. He stamped the release form and was escorted to the docks. There was no orientation or disclaimer, but he picked up on hints. Across the city, signs, ads, and pamphlets he had never seen before prison lined the streets he passed: Start a New Life on the 48th Prefecture! No Fee, No Mortgage, No Nonsense! He wasn’t good at math, but last time he checked, there were only 47 Prefectures. Did Japan go to war? Shinya didn’t think so: he’d been isolated from the outside world, but a war is hard to cover up, and besides, his country winning anything seemed unlikely.

The boat launched him against the railing belly-first, bringing him hurtling back to the present. The sea claimed his last meal and dignity, as he looked out through salty tears. Swimming through pain and nausea, he didn’t understand why they had turned around. They had docked back in port, lowering a ramp for the passengers to exit. Had this been some sick joke, a psychological experiment to see if people would fall for anything? Shinya realized that he was the only skeptic aboard. The others looked… surprised, awestruck… happy? He did a double-take; though it was definitely Japanese-styled, this was a completely different town. The buildings hugging the port and shore were of different shapes and colors, and, most notably, where a street sign or prefectural emblem would be displayed was painted “48”.

There were no other ships docked in the harbor, no cars or trains running, and no single person around. It was a complete and completely empty city. The police escorted them off the boat and brought them to a central courtyard. The Captain commanded attention, directing the crowd. “From here on out, this will be your home. You have been assigned a house. We will distribute keys for each home. All of you have jobs; you will be informed within the coming days. You will be unable to return to the mainland for a period of 5 years, after which you will be able to leave at your discretion. This is your duty for Japan’s survival and the growth of the nation.” With no more fanfare, the entire company was loaded into a train. Shinya stared out the window, watching the ghost town move past him. How long did it take them to build all this? The train took them to a pristine neighborhood, an image that wouldn’t look out of place in the nicer suburbs. As everyone left the train, they noticed the police heading off in different directions. One found an empty police box and entered it, setting up as though that had been his position his whole life. Are they assigned to live here, too? The last cop started handing out keys, as promised. As he reached Shinya, he pressed into his hand deliberately, giving him a knowing look. Well, there goes living without a cop breathing down my neck.

Shinya hadn’t opened his door yet. His door. The State took everything from him, and now he was supposed to be grateful? He looked around and saw people gingerly insert their numbered keys into their homes, not expecting it to work, and, frankly, neither was Shinya. Owning a home was a Showa fantasy, and most people didn't even do that back then. He realized he was the only one left, and even if he didn’t care about his “neighbors'” opinions, he didn’t want their scrutiny. He shoved the key into the lock, and the door opened obediently. He trespassed in his own home, practiced footfalls silently leading him through the halls and into each room. He poked his head into each entrance, surprised each time that he was truly alone. He washed his hands in running water, he cooled himself off in front of a chilly freezer, and he turned on a functioning TV to NHK. They celebrated the inauguration of Project 48, inspired by Dubai and Holland, to create an artificial island to expand Japan's landmass. “Japanese innovation would save the nation once again. We won’t be a small country stuck on four islands anymore!” The newscaster’s saccharine smile soured Shinya’s mood; he turned it off and sat on his couch, wondering what he signed up for.