Mimesis – A Courageous Story
Summary: Seven children come together in an underground subway after finding two clashing monsters in their phones' augmented reality viewer. But they discover that the monsters are real and are accidentally taken to the Digital World, a parallel world that exists within human networking. [Monthly series]
PROLOGUE
Kotsu Masumi – fifth grade, eleven years old
"Many changes have happened in the last decade, things that would have been considered impossible not too far back. Phones have become a basic necessity, people can be with whoever they love, smoking is considered to be stupid, animals have become the most popular trend…Oh! Dia, what are you doing? Trying to steal more of my audience?" Marco's Siamese cat tumbled into the video, rolling affectionately on Marco's lap. Masumi could not contain her smile. Dia was like her own pet, having seen her born as a crying kitten and grow into a furry gray daughter. Her eyes were crystal blue like diamonds, her name.
"Where was I? Oh, yes, mankind has made leaps and bounds in politics and culture that would have normally taken a generation to bring. What made this possible? A lot of scientists are still trying to understand this phenomenon, but we all have a general clue on what transpired in the late 20th century." Masumi already knew what. Even the stupidest person in her class could. "Time. We've had more time. Communication became instant. Distance, borders, languages – they became obsolete in the face of the Internet."
"Oi, Masumi!"
Masumi paused the video, but her earphones stayed. "Yeah?"
"What are you doing on your phone during a Golden Week?"
"I'm watching something," she said.
"Oh? What is it?"
How does she even begin to explain? "The impact of the Internet," she replied, picking the simplest way to do it.
Yaiba grimaced. "Your head's still in school?"
No. Marco is a writer and poet who occasionally puts up v-blogs. I've been watching him since I was in the first grade. Masumi shrugged. "I guess." She randomly pushed through her phone, wondering what her classmate could possibly want with her.
"That's Masumi for you," he praised. She supposed it was a praise.
Masumi propped her phone horizontally and scanned the shopping district beyond the café glass through her AR viewer. Virtual flowers, gems, mascots, robots, and anime characters sprung to life from store to store. It was nothing too amazing; just a touch of novelty that pleased overexcited foreigners.
"So…" Yaiba drummed his fingers on the table, uncharacteristically shy. "Are you doing anything? I mean, do you have any plans? After…you're done watching – before I interrupted you watching…"
Masumi blinked at her phone. A gold ball of light shot from out of nowhere. What was that just now? She rescanned the stores hurriedly, but she did not find it again. She definitely saw something.
"Hold on," she said, jumping off the chair.
Yaiba nodded dumbly. "Oh, sure. Girl's bathroom?"
"Yeah," said Masumi distractedly, leaving through the doors.
Kurosaki Shun – sixth grade, twelve years old
The old man knew him by now. Every morning, the old man would sweep his porch and read a book under hanging yellow zinnias. Not many passed this neighbourhood. He would lower down his reading glasses and find Shun wandering about with his phone stretched out.
"You should leave that thing in your house and look at the world with your own eyes from time to time," the old man advised. When Shun ignored him, the old man grunted and went back to his book.
Shun pointed his phone's camera from corner to corner, seeing trash cans, bricked roads, cars, people. As he walked past a group of high school girls down a curve, he heard them mutter behind his back. "What is he doing?"
"Who knows? Maybe he's playing some sort of game…"
"Hmm. I don't really see anything though."
Neither did Shun. He saw walls, cats, poles, yards, streets. But Shun did not stop. He kept searching through the AR viewer until he found himself at the busy crossing. Cafes, shoes, clothes… Shun brought his phone down, a pang of sadness aching from his chest at the sight of the jewelry store. He gave it a try and pointed the camera at it, but he did not find anything unusual.
A boy had mimicked him, tilting his phone in hopes of finding a fascinating sight hidden behind the lenses of technology.
"There's nothing there," he told the boy.
The boy continued to move his phone like a steering wheel. "Really? Weren't you using your phone on it, onii-chan?"
Shun said nothing. Maybe I should stop for today.
The boy turned his head to him. "Oh yeah… you look kinda familiar. Are you famous?"
For a bit, he was able to smile. "That depends. Are you into – " The air vanished from his lungs. A face – a person – it looked.
Blinking, the boy followed Shun's shocked eyes to his phone's screen and frowned. "What? Did you see something?"
But Shun was already running. A car almost ran into him as the lights turned green. He instinctively slammed a hand on it as it to stop it through sheer will and kept bolting across the road, ignoring the honks left booming on his trail.
Sawatari Shingo – fifth grade, eleven years old
"Papa, why can't we go yet? I'm bored," complained Shingo. He sadly held his stomach. "And hungry. I'm hungry!"
"Oh no, that's terrible!" gasped Shingo's father, dropping his envelope and files on the floor. He searched the pockets of his suit and whipped out a sleek, silver phone. "How dare the director be awfully late on the city's future mayor? My precious son's starving to death!" He punched angrily into the screen and turned to his son with a sweet, mustached smile. "Don't worry, Shingo. Papa will make sure this disrespecting adult will not get sponsorship for her augmented reality museum."
"But Papa, earlier, didn't you say it was important for you? The director has connections with big people all over the world. She can easily get a different sponsor if you turned her down…"
Shingo's father faltered. "I-I did say that. I've got connections all over Japan but I really would like to take that abroad, like in America. If I could expand my business, I might be able to get you to study in Europe…" He violently shook his head. "No, I won't have it! Papa has some dignity. What's the point of making more money if my son would have to starve for it?"
Shingo frowned. He snatched his father's phone from his hand and cancelled the call. His father gaped at him in shock.
"I can wait," he said to his father. "I know how important this is to you. So for you, Papa, I'll go downstairs and buy some cheap food over the vending machine." The thought wore down his mood, but he bottled it up and put up a smile for his father. I'm such a wonderful son.
"Shingo," his father sobbed, embracing his son. "You are such a kind boy. Your Papa doesn't deserve you. Papa loves you, Shingo!"
Though Shingo's father was only a foot taller than his son, he was round and wide, wrapping Shingo with thick, strong arms. He struggled to breathe. "I…love you too…Papa…"
But Shingo had come to regret the choice. He'd gone over the museum several times, growing bored of the swimming fishes and turtles under his feet and with the open sky in the ceiling. The AR was impressive, but the environment was still wholly empty. As expected, since the project was just starting.
Shingo fished the last Pocky stick out of the box, scanning the walls on the viewer, which made him see the busy streets outside as if the walls didn't exist.
Huh? What's that? Shingo backed up and aimed his phone on the left. On top of a car was a slim, huge man wrapped in ebony armor. A Golden Week Easter egg? Or was this going on outside? He left the building and could still see him through his AR viewer, swinging a three-pronged spear at something in the air.
"Wow!" exclaimed Shingo. "It's a good thing I stopped Papa. This looks too real! Hey, wait!" The armored man leaped twenty feet in the air, soaring across cars and people like a giant raven.
Sakaki Yuya – fifth grade, eleven years old
"Swing!" said Yuya, spinning in place. He watched the crystalline pendulum in the AR viewer gain momentum, its tip glistening with sparkling dusts, raining on the playground. "More! Swing more, pendulum!"
He kept the phone still, grinning as he watched the pendulum swing back and forth across the screen, drawing a faint arc with its dusts.
"…What is he doing?"
"Look at him laugh by himself."
"What a creepy kid."
Yuya looked over at the sniggering, his smile vanishing.
"Psst, he's looking at us!" whispered one of the boys, none too quiet.
The fit, handsome one of them looked at Yuya straight in the eye with a grin that reminded Yuya of a tiger. "How old do you think he is? Five?" The comment earned him an elbow, but they all sniggered with big grins. To Yuya's horror, the handsome boy stood up.
He turned his back on them, walking away as inconspicuously as possible. He tried to look as busy as he could with his phone. Maybe they were just trying to scare him. It worked. Now please go away. Just laugh and be satisfied. He held his breath, trying not to let the sting in his eyes affect him. If he didn't, things would get worse.
A hand held him by the shoulder. It was a quick, harmless touch that sent him volts of electricity. Yuya jumped.
"Woah!" exclaimed the boy. He'd left his friends, who roared in laughter.
They have phones, thought Yuya, despairing. He mustered all his strength in a stubborn glare. "What do you want?"
The boy smiled. "Sorry, did I scare you?"
"What do you want?" he repeated angrily. Yuya regretted it when a look of annoyance passed by the boy's face. But the look disappeared and the smile went back.
"I was wondering if you were lost," the handsome boy said innocently. "Do you want me to look for your parents?"
Yuya gritted his teeth. He knew just as well as Yuya that he was not with his parents. But he could not say anything better. "I'm not lost. I'm in the fifth grade. I don't have to be with my parents!"
The handsome boy feigned a shocked look. He looked stupid, and yet his friends were laughing at Yuya, not him. "Really now? You know, lying is terrible. It's all right to admit that you're lost."
"You're the liar!"
Suddenly, Yuya's phone was gone from his hand. The boy skipped away, peeking into Yuya's phone. Yuya gaped at him. They all must have seen that. He can't do that.
"He's stealing my phone!" yelled Yuya.
"I'm just borrowing it," the boy said, annoyed. "Here, you can have it back."
Yuya tried to swipe it back, but the boy was too fast. He reached for it again, but it slipped past his fingers. He was getting angry, just the way they wanted him to be. If that's the case, then...Yuya smiled.
It worked. The smile was gone from the boy. It was Yuya's turn.
Yamashiro Tatsuya – second grade, eight years old
He'd seen enough.
"Stop!" Tatsuya marched toward the bully, his hands balled into fists. "Would you stop picking on him? Aren't you embarrassed acting like a brat? Pick on somebody your own size!"
The bully gave him a warning glare, but it didn't scare Tatsuya.
"What are you going to do? Hurt me?" he said boldly. "You're going to get in trouble for that. You think you can get away with bullying? There are laws for that. Or are you stupider than a second grader like me?"
"You calling me stupid?" the boy growled, startling Tatsuya.
"Stop, don't involve him!" said the other boy. "I don't know him. Just ignore him."
Tatsuya's fleeting courage returned. "He doesn't scare me," he said stubbornly.
The bully's toothy grin slid back into his handsome face. "I didn't know you have friends, kid," he said to the other boy. "A second grader has more guts than you."
"Shut up!" screamed Tatsuya. "Why won't you just shut up already?"
"I'm complimenting you," the bully told him.
"You don't mean that. You're insulting him!"
The bully laughed. "The second grader saw how scared you were. What grade were you in again? Fifth?"
Tatsuya charged at the bully. "Go away!" he started screaming. He pounded and kicked blindly, not knowing what was going on exactly. But he'd been pulled away and shoved down on the dirt. When he looked up, raring to have a go again, he saw the other boy, red in the face at him.
"Why did you do that?" the bullied boy screamed. "You're making it worse!" He wiped the back of his hand on his eyes, but more tears spilled out. He tried to wipe them secretly again, but two rivers had already flown. "Damn it!"
"I'm sorry," said Tatsuya hastily, guilty, though not understanding what he did wrong. "I thought I was doing the right thing."
The boy took in a shaky breath. "I had it under control!" he said before bolting away.
"You're horrible people!" shouted Tatsuya at the laughing older kids. Tatsuya swiped the stolen phone from the bully, who was in a fit of laugh that tears formed at the corner of his eyes. "You should die," he told him spitefully. The bully's smile disappeared. Tatsuya relished in that. Not many eight grader could strike others with fear.
Tatsuya went after the boy. Glancing at the boy's phone, he noticed that static was fuzzing in the screen. Geez, his phone was broken too.
Gongenzaka Noboru – fifth grade, eleven years old
As expected, the subway was packed today. Just as he had managed to reach the ticket booths, he saw a woman in need of help with her baby's stroller. He carried it all the way to the entrance and after bidding each other with a bow, he was marching down the tunnels of the subway again and was back at the bottom of the stairs. Something small hit him from behind. Gongenzaka turned around. Yuya?"
Yuya rubbed his face. "Gah, I knew it. A wall like that can only be you, Gongenzaka."
Gongenzaka shook his head disapprovingly. "You shouldn't be running. You could have gotten someone hurt." He helped Yuya up.
"I'm the one that got hurt," he complained.
Looking over at his friend, Gongenzaka noticed his eyes were puffy and red. He was about to ask if something had happened when Yuya spoke.
"Gongenzaka, can I borrow your phone?" asked Yuya with a mischievous grin. "I left mine at home."
"Sure." He handed it to him. "Are you calling Yuzu?"
Gongenzaka couldn't see what Yuya was doing over his phone. "Nah, she has a piano lesson today. How about you? Are you meeting up with someone?"
Gongenzaka lined up in the ticket booth. "No. I'm picking up tatami mats for the dojo."
Yuya's jaw dropped. "All by yourself?"
"You could come along and help me," said Gongenzaka, grinning.
"Fine," he said with a singsong drawl, moving Gongenzaka's phone across the station. "Wow, your phone's so old. Look at that frame rate!"
He glanced upon the screen and saw that Yuya was using his AR viewer. "I have no use for that. What are you trying to look at anyway?"
"Some stations have AR. You know, posters and electronic ads sometimes have them installed. You never know what you might find." Yuya talked like he was finding treasure. He did like surprises.
"You're not addicted to it, are you?" he asked, pushing in his ride into the booth.
"No way," denied Yuya. "Besides, it's not like it's that good to replace reality."
"This sure is taking a while," said Gongenzaka, waiting for his payment to process.
Yuya snickered. "Maybe it's as old as your phone. Ah!" Gongenzaka's phone froze and shook with static.
"It broke!"
"What?" demanded Gongenzaka. "What did you do?"
Yuya's eyes widened at something behind Gongenzaka. He pointed at the ticket booth. "Look, Gongenzaka!"
"Huh?" The booth's tray was flooding with tickets and its screen had turned black. It wasn't just this booth. The other booths were acting abnormally in different ways. One was spitting out change, another was displaying a soap commercial on the screen. Confused passengers stepped back and checked for station personnel to come, but as Gongenzaka looked around, he realized there was more confusion going around.
Phones were ringing in various ringtones and those that answered it were putting on confused – and, in some, angry – expressions. Gongenzaka's phone was ringing too, but the answer prompt wasn't appearing on the screen.
"You don't think this is a terrorist attack?" whispered Yuya, growing pale.
Gongenzaka swallowed. He thought it was a prank, but that sounded likely too. "We should be fine. The others aren't panicking over it."
As soon as Gongenzaka finished, the station trembled and lights flickered with madness.
Akaba Reira – second grade, eight years old
"Did you feel that?"
"An earthquake?"
A foreign child pulled his baseball cap down as if to hide his face from the muttering strangers around him. People were flooding out of the subway station, glancing back at the dark tunnel warily. Small as he was, he easily found space to go through by sticking to the wall. The darkness did not bother him – not the uneasy crowd nor the unusual silence as he went deeper underground. He had to get home.
A beeping sound Reira had never heard before filled the tunnel. A dim, blinking light was coming from his pocket. He didn't dare believe it until he took it out and saw with his own eyes.
The aquamarine, beeper-like device barely fit his palm. Its screen, bordered by strange circuit-like characters, showed nothing but the blinking light. But it was more than enough to amaze Reira. He cradled the device with two hands, suddenly unsure of what to do.
"It's…reacting?" He recalled the name his mother had given to it. "The digital device."