Red (Photojournalist bonus saga Part 2)

At one end of the cafeteria was a hallway where recreational activities took place. A total of four doors gave convenient passage to all those interested in pursuing a passion for some artistic work

Starting with the first door on the left; That was the music room. I've been there once, but I expect to visit it more often. It's a soundproof room usually filled with individuals who have very obviously never picked up an instrument in their lives.

I call it sound proof, but even from our apartments a floor above this one, you could hear the cacophony of noise as if you were playing right along with them. It's been the cause of several complaints, none of which ever seem to change much.

So, why was someone like me with zero musical potential even in there to begin with? It wasn’t for my sake. Despite being a child prodigy, Ko still needed to go to school and learn. One of the requirements there was to have each child take up an instrument. Her music instructor, Ms. Onoko, begged me and Ekko to show up for a recital, and I'll say, I was impressed Ko could hold a tuba almost as big as her.

As for the first room on the right side of the hall, that was the art room. Ekko enjoyed that place a lot more than me. There were at least seven tables, including the one the instructor would use for demonstrations. Paint, paper and all other kinds of artistic products were scattered around the cabinets of that double sized room. You could smell the creativity from the hall.

Right now there were a bunch of kids in there. They were smearing rainbows all over some cheap looking canvass. What they were making wasn't anything I'd put in an art gallery, but their parents were more than happy to pin it on their front doors and refrigerators.

I'll never forget the smile Ko had on her face when she and Ekko came home from a collaborative art night. Those two drew stick figures representing all of us on a page. They included Miyazaki-sama in the picture for some reason, but he was sitting down, so he kinda looked like a dog in a weird chair. I've been meaning to show him it and get a good laugh.

The second door on the right was another entrance to the art room, and across from that there was a staircase leading up to some offices and classrooms for the kids.

Then the last door was all the way at the end of the hall on the right. I always assumed this door was a janitorial closet, but I guess it's actually this rumored Red Box. Now that I'm getting a look at it, it was actually a very dark red color.

“If that’s not the right room, I don’t know what would be.”

I approached the door, pulling the handle and swinging it open, immediately seeing Ko standing on a step stool to reach her hands in a tray full of liquid. But she turned my way with a look of horror on her face.

“No! Close the door!” she shouted in a frantic voice I’d never heard before.

I followed her orders and shut the door, not quite sure what was going on.

Moments later, Ko opened the door and gave me a very disapproving look.

“I’d appreciate it if you’d knock on the door before abrasively entering next time,” Ko scolded, allowing me to slip through the slight gap in the door she’d left. “My work here is very sensitive to light.”

“Sorry about that.” I shrugged. The lighting in here was Just as red as I’d expected it to be. “What are you up to in here?” I asked.

“I’m developing these pictures,” she said, pulling out photos from a shiny liquid substance and hanging them up on a wire to dry. “They’re incredibly sensitive to light. I apologize for startling you with my tone, but this is a delicate process.”

I should have figured there was a reason someone would sit in a dark room like this with only a hint of red light. In my defense, she was always so secretive about this camera work of hers.

Her normal camera was digital, so printing pictures never had her going through a process like this. Adding to the curious work she was putting in, these pictures were only grayscale. Very plain, in my opinion.

“Who are these people?” I asked, seeing a lot of people in the pictures.

“Take a look. Tell me who you see.”

She handed me one of the photos that looked finished. I recognized the two people in this one. The man in a suit was John, a foreigner from overseas who worked closely with Miyazaki-sama. Then the woman in a dress, which looked like curtains strung together, was Nora, the girl from the cafeteria.

The way Nora was dressed in this picture reminded me a lot of Ekko’s quickly scraped together wedding dress. I felt nostalgic thinking back on it, even though we were about to be captured that day. I couldn't shake out of my mind how beautiful she was.

“These are wedding photos, aren’t they?” I asked.

“They are.” Ko finished up her last batch of pictures, but seemed disappointed at the results. “Curses. I’ll need to try again later.”

“Sorry if I messed things up,” I said, rubbing the back of my head.

“It’s alright. These things happen.” She smiled as she relaxed in a chair next to mine, holding up her personal camera and taking my picture. “The dense older sibling has a habit of barging into places unannounced.”

“What, are you narrating my life now? And who are you calling dense?”

My statement got a chortle out of her.

“I’m sure you don’t mind me capturing your image and details.”

Nobody could stop her from taking random pictures of people around the sanctuary. By the time you realize she’s there, she’s already gone. I don’t think I’ve heard anyone complain about it, but I can’t imagine everyone liked it when they aren’t feeling very photogenic.

“So, when did you get these pictures?” I asked, referring to John and Nora’s wedding photos.

“It wasn’t actually my work. These were taken in Okinawa before the two of them transferred here.”

If memory serves, they apparently got here a few months before we did.

Ko reached behind her and pulled up a rusty looking camera, then handed it to me, claiming that the photos were taken with this ancient relic.

“I didn’t know they were from Okinawa,” I said.

“Yeah. It’s one of the few places left in the world where you can come across older culture still being practiced. I’m not even sure they mandate the pills there.”

“That’s surprising.” I figured that a smaller place like that would be easier to keep oppressed than Japan.

“Not at all.” Ko shook her head. “It wouldn’t be worth the resources. It’s the same reason most of Russia is largely untouched by the pills. There’s hardly anything there, and the few people that are seem happy to stay in their place.”

So it wasn't about actually taking the pills, it was about staying in line.

“How did they end up together then? Wasn’t John from the USNA?”

“The United States and Okinawa have a long history, so it’s easy to find passages from one to the other.”

“And how did they get transferred here?” I asked.

“Nora’s father was childhood friends with Miyazaki-sama. They were both co-founders of the Old World. At some point, Nora’s father made a branch of the Old World down south. John was a fresh escapee from North America and easily got recruited.”

After that, John was personally trained by Nora’s father, and somehow Nora was introduced to him. Ko thinks it might have been her father’s intention to get them together to continue the bloodline, not that they have any kids yet.

“After they were married, John and Nora wanted to get their hands dirty with work against the government. But that wasn’t easy down south, since there wasn’t much to do.”

“I’m guessing it gets boring down there without much of a government to deal with,” I suggested.

“You’d think, but the USNA can be pretty tenacious whenever they’re looking for stray sheep.” She started sifting through her pictures again, shaking her head and letting out a sigh. “Kitsune, seeing as you now owe me one, could I ask a favour of you?”

She was really going to pull that card? Guess I couldn’t say no.

“What is it?”

“That history I just gave you was from an interview with John and Nora.” She jiggled her camera. “I want to do the same with everyone else in the sanctuary. They all have a story to tell, and every second risks a detail getting confused or lost.”

“How can I help?”

“I’m not the most persuasive person, nor very charismatic. People don't tend to find the time for my objective...” 

It might help her if she wasn't a little photo-gremlin who pops up out of nowhere. 

“...But you seem to get along with people very well,” She continued.

So, she wanted me to be her spokesperson. I think I could manage that. But when she says she wants to interview everyone, did she mean “everyone?” There’s over a few thousand people living here and counting…