As Jonathan boarded his flight from Santa Fe County Municipal Airport, he saw that he'd gotten lucky and managed to get a window seat. Too bad he was stuck in coach, with barely enough room to stretch his legs. Ah well. At least he had the window view. That was often the only thing that kept him sane on long flights. The last time he'd been stuck in an aisle seat, he'd given up three bags of peanuts and a soda to change seats with another passenger.
After a few minutes of looking outside and staring at the tarmac, he sighed. Bored already. This was not a good sign.
He reached into his overhead bag and pulled out his English/Japanese dictionary. He spoke fairly fluent Japanese (that was the only language that hadn't been full in college), but he decided a little helper couldn't hurt, so he'd brought this along. Now he was flipping through it, doing some last minute refreshing work.
"First time to Japan?"
He looked up, a bit startled. A Japanese man a few years younger than he was putting his bag in the overhead compartment and taking the aisle seat next to Jonathan.
"Uh, yeah. How'd you know?"
He smiled. "The dictionary. Always a dying--I mean DEAD giveaway. First-timers are constantly flipping through them to make sure they have the essential phrases right," he said in almost perfect though heavily accented English. "What's your name?" He held out his hand.
The reporter took his hand and shook it. "Jonathan Cooper. The third," he added belatedly. "Yours?"
"Gojoteki Gaido."
"Nice to meet you, Gojoteki. Whatcha doing in the US?"
"Partly vacation, partly work. I needed to do some field research on gila monsters and Mexican Beaded Lizards in their natural habitat, and I decided to enjoy myself while I was at it."
"Oh, are you a scientist?"
Gojoteki smiled. "Respiring--I mean, ASPIRING scientist. I'm working for one until I think I've learned enough. What about you?"
"Journalist. My boss is sending me to Tokyo to cover a story."
"What story?"
"The anniversaries of Godzilla's attacks."
The Japanese man raised an eyebrow. "Now that's a coincidence...my teacher is researching Godzilla."
"Really? Who is he?"
"Dr. Reijiro Koroku."
Jonathan nodded. "Hmm...any chance I might be able to talk to Dr. Koroku? Ask him a few questions for my article?"
"Maybe, maybe. We'll have to see when we get there."
***
Gregory Garreau walked into Jonathan's office, and used his master key to unlock the reporter's desk drawer. He took out a folder that had CHURCH OF KAIJU written on it in black magic marker, and was stuffed with all kinds of papers and pictures. He took it back to his office, closed the door, and began to browse.
His interest was piqued, to say the least. The Church Of Kaiju was only a few years old, but it seemed to be taking off quite fast. The leader, Bishop Kagaku, seemed to be extraordinarily charismatic...and just as equally mysterious. Despite Jonathan's best efforts, he'd managed to uncover almost nothing about his past. He had simply turned up in the mid-90's and begun spreading his message.
His message was almost absurdly simple. The gods had forms like Godzilla. One day soon, they would arrive and wipe out all of humanity, every last person. But in the afterlife, those who believed in the gods would be reborn, as gods themselves. Then they would be able to torment and play with the souls of non-believers.
That was practically IT. It was ludicrous. But somehow it was attracting thousands of followers. But HOW? HOW?
That was what Jonathan had been trying to discover. Now it was Gregory's task. His task to unravel the shroud of enigmas around Kagaku before it lead to more deaths. And without, as Jonathan had put it, "another Jim Ryan giving his life against another Jim Jones."
Of course, his name was Leo Ryan, but Gregory had been too kind to correct him.
***
The two talked for several hours, becoming fast friends. Eventually, over the Pacific, Jonathan decided to take a nap. It was a pleasant sleep, undisturbed by turbulence or ill dreams. Except, perhaps for one.
He dreamt he was awake, and looking out his window. And looking back at him was a big--no, an ENORMOUS bird, flying parallel to the plane. He closed his eyes, then opened them again and jerked his head to the window as the shock of what he was seeing hit him.
But there was nothing there, just puffy white clouds, apparently undisturbed by anything. He turned to Gojoteki. "Did you see something outside?"
The other man peered outside. "Nah...you just had a nightmare. Musta been a bad one, the way you jacked--JERKED your head up like that."
"Yeah, guess so. How close are we to Tokyo?"
"We're almost there."
***
Once the plane landed, the two went their separate ways, but Gojoteki promised to meet Jonathan at his hotel's lobby for breakfast the next morning. The reporter wandered the streets of Tokyo for several minutes, in awe at all the city's sights. He began to believe that this, not Paris, should be the City of Lights.
Eventually he made his way to his hotel and got checked into his room, which was so cramped he began to wonder if the stereotype of narrow Japanese living space wasn't totally unfounded. He simply threw his suitcases onto one of the tables, set his alarm clock, and then simply collapsed into the bed.
***
Meanwhile, in the farming suburbs of Imazo...
An old man walked towards his house. It had been a hard day of farming, so hard it had turned into a hard night. He would be glad to get back home, to his family, to some nice tea...
A shadow blocked the moonlight.
He looked up. And screamed.
But just for a moment.
After a few minutes of looking outside and staring at the tarmac, he sighed. Bored already. This was not a good sign.
He reached into his overhead bag and pulled out his English/Japanese dictionary. He spoke fairly fluent Japanese (that was the only language that hadn't been full in college), but he decided a little helper couldn't hurt, so he'd brought this along. Now he was flipping through it, doing some last minute refreshing work.
"First time to Japan?"
He looked up, a bit startled. A Japanese man a few years younger than he was putting his bag in the overhead compartment and taking the aisle seat next to Jonathan.
"Uh, yeah. How'd you know?"
He smiled. "The dictionary. Always a dying--I mean DEAD giveaway. First-timers are constantly flipping through them to make sure they have the essential phrases right," he said in almost perfect though heavily accented English. "What's your name?" He held out his hand.
The reporter took his hand and shook it. "Jonathan Cooper. The third," he added belatedly. "Yours?"
"Gojoteki Gaido."
"Nice to meet you, Gojoteki. Whatcha doing in the US?"
"Partly vacation, partly work. I needed to do some field research on gila monsters and Mexican Beaded Lizards in their natural habitat, and I decided to enjoy myself while I was at it."
"Oh, are you a scientist?"
Gojoteki smiled. "Respiring--I mean, ASPIRING scientist. I'm working for one until I think I've learned enough. What about you?"
"Journalist. My boss is sending me to Tokyo to cover a story."
"What story?"
"The anniversaries of Godzilla's attacks."
The Japanese man raised an eyebrow. "Now that's a coincidence...my teacher is researching Godzilla."
"Really? Who is he?"
"Dr. Reijiro Koroku."
Jonathan nodded. "Hmm...any chance I might be able to talk to Dr. Koroku? Ask him a few questions for my article?"
"Maybe, maybe. We'll have to see when we get there."
***
Gregory Garreau walked into Jonathan's office, and used his master key to unlock the reporter's desk drawer. He took out a folder that had CHURCH OF KAIJU written on it in black magic marker, and was stuffed with all kinds of papers and pictures. He took it back to his office, closed the door, and began to browse.
His interest was piqued, to say the least. The Church Of Kaiju was only a few years old, but it seemed to be taking off quite fast. The leader, Bishop Kagaku, seemed to be extraordinarily charismatic...and just as equally mysterious. Despite Jonathan's best efforts, he'd managed to uncover almost nothing about his past. He had simply turned up in the mid-90's and begun spreading his message.
His message was almost absurdly simple. The gods had forms like Godzilla. One day soon, they would arrive and wipe out all of humanity, every last person. But in the afterlife, those who believed in the gods would be reborn, as gods themselves. Then they would be able to torment and play with the souls of non-believers.
That was practically IT. It was ludicrous. But somehow it was attracting thousands of followers. But HOW? HOW?
That was what Jonathan had been trying to discover. Now it was Gregory's task. His task to unravel the shroud of enigmas around Kagaku before it lead to more deaths. And without, as Jonathan had put it, "another Jim Ryan giving his life against another Jim Jones."
Of course, his name was Leo Ryan, but Gregory had been too kind to correct him.
***
The two talked for several hours, becoming fast friends. Eventually, over the Pacific, Jonathan decided to take a nap. It was a pleasant sleep, undisturbed by turbulence or ill dreams. Except, perhaps for one.
He dreamt he was awake, and looking out his window. And looking back at him was a big--no, an ENORMOUS bird, flying parallel to the plane. He closed his eyes, then opened them again and jerked his head to the window as the shock of what he was seeing hit him.
But there was nothing there, just puffy white clouds, apparently undisturbed by anything. He turned to Gojoteki. "Did you see something outside?"
The other man peered outside. "Nah...you just had a nightmare. Musta been a bad one, the way you jacked--JERKED your head up like that."
"Yeah, guess so. How close are we to Tokyo?"
"We're almost there."
***
Once the plane landed, the two went their separate ways, but Gojoteki promised to meet Jonathan at his hotel's lobby for breakfast the next morning. The reporter wandered the streets of Tokyo for several minutes, in awe at all the city's sights. He began to believe that this, not Paris, should be the City of Lights.
Eventually he made his way to his hotel and got checked into his room, which was so cramped he began to wonder if the stereotype of narrow Japanese living space wasn't totally unfounded. He simply threw his suitcases onto one of the tables, set his alarm clock, and then simply collapsed into the bed.
***
Meanwhile, in the farming suburbs of Imazo...
An old man walked towards his house. It had been a hard day of farming, so hard it had turned into a hard night. He would be glad to get back home, to his family, to some nice tea...
A shadow blocked the moonlight.
He looked up. And screamed.
But just for a moment.