The Red Scare

‘MORITOMO HIGH ANIME CLUB.’

The makeshift collage still spelled those words on the door, looking childish as ever. How many people walked by here, thinking it was actually an anime club? It won’t fool me again, I thought, pushing into the room for a second time.

I was surprised to find it deserted but for the president, who sat at the centered teacher’s desk, facing the door for once. She had a gigantic book on her lap, which she flicked through nonchalantly, making small, thoughtful sounds behind her mask. And yes—she still wore the mask, wrinkly and bronze and jeering. I was building a certain tolerance to the sight, but it still unsettled me. 

“Welcome back, comrade,” she called, not looking up. “I’m pleased you elected to return to us.”

“Yeah, well, I promised I would…”

“How was your day?”

“Not the best. I had a lot of work to do… And the whole time, your ‘comrade’ Hitomi was staring at me like I killed a cat. She wouldn’t leave me alone!”

“Ha! You’ll have to forgive her. She is as much your comrade as she is mine.”

“Whatever… By the way, where is everyone? Hitomi said she had important ‘fieldwork’ to do, and I had to come here by myself.”

“Yes, yes. FIeldwork. We are not alone, though. Comrade Yachi is here.”

“Oh.” I noticed Yachi’s back protruding out of a tiny cabinet, which stood next to the blackboard. She had such little presence that I didn’t notice her there. Unlike Asako, she wasn’t dressed up and cosplaying today.

“Yachi is organising our supplies. Both Etsu and Hitomi are out doing fieldwork, meaning they are gathering information for our next major rally. I, as you can see, am reading.”

“Bit lazy, that.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Well, they’re doing work, and you’re sitting here reading a book.”

“Reading is not to be taken lightly. We all have much to learn about the ways of the world, yes? Before we seize the means of production, we must seize our own minds. Dare to see the world for what it really is!”

“About all that… I wanted to ask a question. About this communism business.”

"A question?" Asako shut her book with a thud. I could have sworn one of her yellow, potato-chip eyebrows lifted, but that was probably just my imagination. "Fu fu. You've been using your brain? We must celebrate!"

"I was just doing some research. Not because I was super interested. I was bored, and I wondered what communism actually was. Don't get the wrong idea."

"Oh, spare me, comrade. You don't need to get all tsun-tsun about the acquisition of knowledge. Share what you learned! I’m all ears.”

"Well," I said, glaring at her briefly, placing my bag down on the floor, "I don’t want this to come off the wrong way, but… I think communism is a bad idea.”

“And what makes you say that?”

“I mean, like, everything! The sites I visited all said the same things. It has an awful track record, for starters. Every time it’s been tried, it’s been a human rights disaster. Dictatorships, corruption, concentration camps and all that. I know it sounds nice to have a society all equal and such, but we have to look at the history, and it never actually works… It’s actually dangerous. Honestly, I think it’s better if we just focus on improving our current system, rather than fighting for something so… historically flawed.”

Asako placed her book down on the desk behind her. She stood up, stretched, and sighed. “You sweet summer child. I should have known something like this would happen. I should have known that, left unattended, you would fall victim to the propaganda of capital! Shinzo Watanabe, you have been infected by The Red Scare.”

"...The red what?"

"The Red Scare! Oh, it's vile. Oh, it’s twisted! It spreads its fearmongering tendrils through your brain. It lays its hateful eggs in your stomach! It burns like misinformed wildfire across your very skin!”

“My skin?” It seemed like my skin was fine. “I don’t know what you’re on about.”

“Shush, comrade. Not a word more, or you might spread it to others!” She clapped twice. “Yachi, that’s originally a janitor’s closet, right? There are cleaning supplies in there?”

“Yes,” Yachi answered, her monotone voice further muffled by the closet.

“Then please bring some.”

I watched, confused, as Yachi exited the closet with a bucket brimming with spray bottles, sponges, toilet brushes, and other things. She placed it next to Asako, who plucked a pair of rubbery red gloves out of the miscellanea and slid them gingerly onto her hands. Asako then ordered me to stand in the corner.

“In the corner? What? Like I’m some naughty kid?” I laughed, but she seemed serious.

“Indeed. You have been a very naughty boy. Although… It isn’t really your fault. It could happen to anyone.” She sighed shakily. “Oh how cruel the world is. Stand there, comrade! Don’t make this more difficult than it is already!”

I did as she ordered, still confused. Yachi pounced on the place I had been standing just seconds prior, attacking the floor with a mop. Asako moved towards me with a sponge in her right hand and a spray bottle in her left.

“Hey, hey,” I said. “You’re not planning to—” 

She raised the spray bottle to my face and pulled the trigger.

“Oi!” I flinched, shielding my eyes. “You are! What’s wrong with you?”

“Forgive me, comrade, but I am more concerned with what’s wrong with you.” She pulled the trigger again and again, dousing me in a spray of strange-smelling liquid. She squirted the stuff all around my body, moving too quickly for me to fully defend myself.

“Stop! What is that?”

“Socialism juice.”

“What!?”

“I’m kidding. It’s just your average disinfectant.” She dropped the bottle and gripped her sponge with both hands. Not ceasing her assault for even a second, she began scrubbing me with that soft, porous slab that (really) looked quite similar to her face. I tried in vain to push her away; the communist girl wasn’t all that strong, but she was terribly tenacious.

“This is ridiculous,” I grumbled, struggling. “I just did my own research. There’s nothing wrong with that!”

“You must be careful,” Asako replied, still scrubbing. “In this era, misinformation is rife. You have ingested far too much in your brief stint of 'research.' Just let me have at your face now—”

“Cut it out!” I snapped, finally tearing the sponge from her grip. I held it high enough that she couldn’t reach. “Look, I'm not saying capitalism is good either. There are clearly lots of problems there. But communism has failed every time it was implemented. That’s not propaganda. That’s a fact. Look at, like, Soviet Russia. Or China right now! China sucks.”

Asako nodded thoughtfully. “As part-capitalist non-communist persistently-oligarchal arguable-dictatorships tend to do.”

“No, it is communist! CCP! It’s in the name!”

“Yes, and my name is Donald J Trump, how do you do? Just because you say something doesn’t make it so.” She sighed again, wiping her puffy sweatless brow. “We can stop now, Yachi. Shinzo’s exterior has been sufficiently decontaminated. We turn now to the interior…”