Tokyo Freakshow

“I don’t have much time to spare for conversation right now, but I do have some updates for you. They said that it’s almost complete, and they’re going to release it into the world.”

“Do you have a name for it yet? What does it look like?”

“I don’t kno– bzzz… They’re calling it a DARWI–bzzz… It’s looks like a sma– bzzz –ite fire, like a– bzzz –o’ wis–bzzz…”

I blink open to a blank white room and a light throbbing headache. With my senses finally absorbing my surroundings, I find my arms and legs restrained to the chair I’m sitting in. I feel some sort of ring or circlet binding to my head, and it’s binding way too tightly too. A man with a receding hairline and no more than a few years older than me enters my view wearing a stained white lab coat and holding a clipboard.

“I see you’re awake, Mr. Ishiguro. Now, tell me… How are you feeling?”

I just groan, still not too keen on answering as my memory of everything that’s happened begins to return to me.

“As the man responsible for your health now, I am concerned for your wellbeing, Mr. Ishiguro. Please, do try answering.”

“Mmn… Well, my ears are ringing, everything feels too bright, and my head hurts, so I’m afraid I can’t really say that I’m having a good time.”

He marks some notes down on his clipboard. “Hm… That’s rather unfortunate. I’m sorry the transfer trip wasn’t particularly pleasant for you, Mr. Ishiguro.”

I squint at the balding man. “Who are you?”

“Ah, my sincerest apologies. I’ve neglected to introduce myself. You can call me Dr. Yamamoto.” He takes a seat behind an office desk, setting his clipboard down. “It truly is an honor to have you here with us. I’ve heard tales of your accomplishments back in Osaka. Escaping a prison without leaving a single trace is an impressive feat, and I heard that you did it with nothing but your ability too. Frankly, I believe they were underestimating you by putting you in a normal prison in the first place. A man with your capabilities should’ve been put into a prison more suited for you, so think of this transfer as an advancement in ranks of some sort. Welcome to Tokyo Xenoprison.”

My body continues to sway in the chair as my brain seems to start zoning in and out again. “Xenoprison? Did I hear that right?”

He rhythmically clicks his pen. “That’s right, Mr. Ishiguro. This is a prison specifically designed to contain people of your kind. According to my files, you’re… let’s see… serving multiple life sentences and charged with second-degree murder, prison escape, theft, breaking and entering, assault, coercion, vandalism, and trespassing. Your ability has been quite the useful tool in committing each of those crimes, hasn’t it?”

“I suppose one might assume so.” As I begin to recover from my initial disorientation, I begin to wriggle my arms and legs a bit in the shackles of the chair. These material shackles shouldn’t be able to hold me. If I’m in Tokyo… it shouldn’t be too hard to just run off and hide in the cityscape, right? And then I can try to figure out a plan from there. “Well, Dr. Yamamoto, while this has just been a lovely time conversing with you since you seem to be so knowledgeable, I really am in a hurry.” With Restless Spirit, I…? What? Why is Restless Spirit not working?

The doctor smiles as he watches me struggle to escape the chair. “Well, you don’t look to be in a hurry to me, so I suppose that means you’d like to continue in this lovely conversation of ours. I haven’t even begun to demonstrate just how knowledgeable I am yet, so I believe now would be the appropriate time to inform you that your ability has been suppressed thanks to an invention of mine that you’re currently wearing on your head.”

Ah… I see… I suppose that’s what makes it a xenoprison. My eyes narrow further at this doctor. “What an impressive invention, doctor. I suppose xenohumans are your expertise then?”

“That would be correct, Mr. Ishiguro, though I personally find ‘xenohumans’ to be rather an awfully formal word just to refer to the ten percent or so of the population born with some sort of supernatural abilities, but I digress. Admittedly, xenohumans can be considered to be rather special. They stand out because they possess capabilities other normal humans don’t. In a way, they’re born with an extra appendage.” His pen clicking hastens in pace.

He drinks from a mug before continuing. “Now, while I believe that’s a miracle in evolution deserving of celebration, it also comes with various potential consequences. Suppose that extra appendage turns out to possess the same killing power as an automatic firearm, then what’s to stop them from just mowing down crowds of people if they have a temper tantrum?”

I entertain the doctor’s arguments while I’m here. “What’s to stop any man from taking a kitchen knife from their home and just going into a crowded area and stabbing as many people as possible?”

He raises an eyebrow at me as though I’ve said something weird. “Are you comparing a man armed with a knife to someone who can shoot flames out of their every pore?”

“My point is that normal and perfectly healthy people don’t just do that. No normal, sane person just wakes up one day and thinks to themselves, ‘Hey, you know what sounds fun today? Committing a massacre!’”

The doctor sighs at my response. “But haven’t we established that your kind isn’t normal? The fact of the matter is that such tragedies occur every year. Let me tell you what stops xenos from going on killing tantrums. It’s people like me. I’ve made it my life mission to study and understand the workings of your kind, and it’s my job to prevent you from committing atrocities upon the defenseless human populace.”

I sigh, though the sigh slowly turns into a soft chuckle. “I understand now, doctor. I think I get it… You act all high and mighty like some sort of hero, in reality, aren’t you just xenophobic?”

“You misunderstand, Mr. Ishiguro. See, I’m not xenophobic. I certainly don’t fear xenos, and I don’t even hate all xenos. What I do fear and despise are superpowered monsters like you, Mr. Ishiguro. Xenos that use their supernatural abilities to commit crimes and terrorism hold no resemblance to humans.”

“Well, maybe if you just stopped treating people as though they were monsters and stopped making them feel like monsters, they might not be so inclined to be monsters.”

“I studied psych before I went on to study medicine.” He calmly sips from his mug again. “I’m fully aware of lashing out as a defense mechanism towards strenuous pressure and stress.”

“Then shouldn’t you understand how society fails to offer these people any support systems?” I fail to understand the doctor’s seemingly contradictory perspective. “We literally didn’t have human rights up until a century ago, and in fact, some of us still don’t in parts of the world. Do you really just expect xenohumans to live as though everything was normal under those circumstances?”

“No, Mr. Ishiguro, I don’t. As I’ve said before, I don’t think xenos are normal, and thus, I don’t expect them to live as though everything was normal. Society fails to offer xenos support systems because they don't fit into the existing systems, but I don’t think that excuses crimes such as murder. It’s going to take some time for society to integrate xenos and make adjustments for them, so until then, it’s my job to understand how to make those adjustments and trim off the uneven edges of xenos to help them fit in. That’s why you’ll be wearing my prototype debilitator twenty-four seven from now on, so be sure to get used to it. Just for full transparency and for your sake, I’ve built in an electric shock function should you try to remove it by force. I’d like to see you try to escape when you’re stripped of your freak abilities. When you’re nothing but a criminal scum. I hope you enjoy your stay.”

- - - - -

Entry #1

Well, here we are again. Now that I’m in prison again, I suppose I should start journaling again. Today… was not a good day, to say the least. The other inmates got me to experience the electric shock function Dr. Yamamoto mentioned firsthand today. Apparently, it’s a tradition for inmates to experience it on their first day here. I wish I could say I’ve found a sense of community amongst my fellow xenohumans here, but it’s difficult to say I’ve found community amongst serial killers, arsonists, and sex offenders, half of whom are mentally ill one way or another.

Maybe I should start learning to find community amongst them though. I don’t think I’ll be getting out of here any time soon. In fact, I’ll likely spend the rest of my life here. Now that I’ve been charged with all those other crimes, even if appealing the first murder accusation ever had the slightest shot at succeeding, it’s all gone now. I’ll probably never see Hikari again. I wonder how she’s doing right now.

- - - - -

I find myself sitting next to Boju during lunchtime again, the inmate who convinced me to experience the electric shock. He strikes up a conversation first. “So I heard you escaped from prison once back in Osaka.”

“Huh, word sure gets around fast.” I pick at my food.

“So it is true! How’d you manage that? Any secret techniques?” He seems to be way too cheery for someone in prison.

“Not particularly. Restless Spirit did most of it. Just good planning and really good counting I guess.”

“Restless Spirit?” He turns to me with a confused look.

“Oh, sorry. I guess people don’t usually give their abilities names.”

He bursts out with laughter. “Oh, man. You funny guy, you know that? I think I’ma give my ability a name too! So what does Restless Spirit do?”

“Well…” I get distracted as I see a short and malnourished man walk through the dining hall, escorted by two guards. He looks as though he’s merely skin wrapped around bones, and he seems to gasp for every breath of air, his entire upper body exhaustingly rising and relaxing with each heavy breath. Dark bags hung under his eyes. “Hey, Boju… What’s up with that guy?”

“Hm? Miro? Oh, man. I’d hate to be him. His ability lets him manipulate air, so he’s been relying on it to breathe ever since he was little. Ever since the doc put that ring on his head, he’s had to consciously remember to breathe every waking second of his life.”

“So… How does he sleep?”

“He doesn’t. At least never more than a couple of minutes at a time.”

“I see… And where are they taking him?”

“Hm? Oh, he probably cracked his circlet again, so they’re going to get it replaced. He’s always banging away at it day in and day out.”

“Wait, I thought you couldn’t remove the circlet by force?”

“Oh. I mean, you could. I wouldn’t recommend it though. Miro gets shocked every time he bangs at it, and they replace it once they notice it’s even slightly damaged. He still goes at it though.”

“Good… to know…”

- - - - -

Entry #7

Today is Hikari’s birthday again. Being stuck in here has made me realize how much I took being able to receive visitors and send letters for granted. I wish Sometimes I sit down and wonder I spent the day wondering if there was any way I could somehow escape this prison. Coincidentally, I experienced the electric shock again. It wasn’t pleasant. I don’t know how much longer I can go on.

- - - - -

Boju joins me at the lunch table later than usual today, clutching his debilitator. After sitting down, he doesn’t strike up a conversation like he usually does, so I take my turn instead. “Something bad happen?”

He lets out the first sigh I’ve ever heard from him. “Nah, just had my circlet changed today.”

“Your circlet changed?”

“Yeah, we have to get them changed and updated every year. You’re not gonna like it. It’s painful as fuck, and he doesn’t give us any anesthesia for it. He just stuffs us in a straight jacket and operates, and we just have to endure the pain.”

“What?!” This doctor ceases to baffle me.

“Yeah, it’s all cool though. I’m used to it.”

“But doesn’t changing your debilitator without knocking you out first give you a chance to use your ability on him?”

“Nah, that’s why he’s got a tranquilizer pointed directly at us if we try to do anything funny. Apparently, getting anesthesia is too much of a hassle just for our sake, and he likes to keep us awake because he likes to talk to us while we’re in the chair or something, usually about xenos and shit. I don’t really get it.”

“That’s pretty cruel…” I try to process the information Boju just gave me. I guess that’s not too far off from my first interaction with the doctor.

He turns to me, still clutching his head, and speaks without any semblance of sarcasm in his voice. “Is it?” I just blink at him.

- - - - -

Entry #10

My annual circlet change and update is coming up soon. I’m surprised I’ve managed to keep it intact for an entire year without needing to get it replaced prematurely. The idea did occur to me the other day though. If the process of changing circlets requires him to remove the current one, then doesn’t that provide me with a window of opportunity to escape? There’s hardly a point to being overly stealthy anymore, so I may as well brute force my way out with Restless Spirit. In fact, with Restless Spirit, the tranquilizer the doctor has set up will just phase through me and maybe even hit the doctor. I just fear that he might specifically prepare anesthesia for me, but I think he might be too excited just thinking about the opportunity to talk down to me about xenohumans while I’m strapped in the chair to think about the possibility that his usual setup might not work for me.