The Red Seal Ship
RIKEN Centre for Brain Science. Reiwa 2, mid July
The research team was staring at the generated results displayed on the supercomputer. The lead researcher of the "Preliminary Quantification of Idiosyncratic Electromagnetic Spectrums on Cognition" project banged his fists on a grey table. "It can't be!" he hollered.
The other researchers, technicians, and engineers were looking at him nervously, some shifting uneasily. "Should we run another test?" one of them asked carefully.
"... No," the lead researcher muttered. Grudgingly, he added: "these are likely the only results we will get."
Nods and affirmatives were seen and heard from the others in the research team. The tense atmosphere in the sizable lab slowly abated to a more relaxed one, and soon people started talking excitedly, discussing the significant findings of their project.
"I can't wait to be featured in the NHK along with you guys," someone said.
"Right you are," someone else agreed. "This finding, groundbreaking right? The ones at Tokyo University never managed to crack it, hah!"
"Still, this might be good for our careers, but the actual discovery is very unnerving. If the sea serpent can actually sense and influence cognition, perhaps even motor behavior, of external organisms, who's to say they're the only ones? Can we humans handle this new problematic?"
"Another thing that boggles me," one of the senior researchers said, "is that if it was this obvious that a specific wavelength and frequency of electromagnetic radiation could achieve… 'mind control', then why wasn't this discovered long ago by the scientific communities in America, or the EU, or Britain? Or China today?"
"Because this isn't Earth," the lead researcher interjected unexpectedly. He had been raving to himself away from the rest of his team, but it seemed he was finally composed enough to join their discussion. Suddenly, as he said his next few words, his exasperation seemed to make a lot more sense.
"The results strongly imply that some fundamental physical law or laws operate differently than before the transfer."
The next stop is Komaba-tōdaimae.
Tsubasa looked up from his feet at the soft sound of the train announcement. Slowly he rose from his seat in the train and, doing his best to avoid the personal space of other passengers, stepped out of the doors.
The familiar chirping of birds welcomed him as he walked across the tree-covered Komaba Campus of the University of Tokyo. Cries of seagulls sounded as they glided across a blue sky. A sky turned bluer ever since the transfer.
Tsubasa's feet worked on autopilot as they took him to the classroom for today's lecture on Turkic linguistics, one of the few courses that had resumed in-person classes since the pandemic.. Quietly he slipped into the seat of an empty row, mindful to avoid the ones that were already taken. As the minutes went more students filled into the room, greeting each other and taking seats in the rows except the one he sat at, which he didn't mind.
He didn't.
The lecture started and seemed to drag on for quite some time. Then lunch break came around, and he promptly vacated the campus. He absently scoured through the nearby restaurants and eateries to see if anything new had been set up. Ever since the transfer, seafood based donburi, sushi and sashimi, and other seafood based dishes had become the staple, reflecting the relative abundance of fish and rice, compared to many other food products. At least it was always fresh.
After munching on some minced tuna and salmon roe temakis in a small and empty restaurant, he took a stroll around the neighborhood. As in the restaurants, few people were seen outside. To control the spread of COVID-19, the Tokyo governor had persistently urged social distancing, and the effects were becoming apparent.
Eventually Tsubasa made it back to the campus for the second part of the lecture. Again he sat in an empty row and took in what was said, and then the class ended and he briskly made it out the door…
"Ah, Tsubasa-kun! It was a while ago."
Tsubasa stiffened at the voice. He slowly turned around and found himself face to face with a bespectacled, middle-aged man. Like most others nowadays, his lower face was covered with a surgical face mask.
"Kaito..." Tsubasa acknowledged haltingly.
Thousands of buildings of many shapes and sizes rolled by the train window as it traversed the heart of Tokyo on the Yamanote Line. Even after all those years living in it, the sheer scale of it all still awed Tsubasa. The city felt like its own world, far removed from the rest of the planet, stretching as far as the eye could see and with everything so interconnected it sometimes felt like a single organism. Although London and Paris were far more globally relevant, they had never invoked in him the same sense of scale.
"I heard you are making quite a breakthrough in the linguistics field," Kaito remarked as they exited the train, arriving on a half-empty railway platform. "Only twenty-one, and already a doctoral degree in Austronesian languages. Tell me, how many languages do you speak at near fluency?"
"Maybe five," Tsubasa answered warily as they walked to the next railway platform.
Kaito got a glint in his eye. "As you know, nowadays I am an employee at the foreign ministry." After not receiving any affirmatives, he continued: "The foreign ministry is looking for people with special competences to embark on an expedition… an expedition to the lands in the east," he finished meaningfully.
"Are you telling me this because...?"
"Yes, I would like to offer you the opportunity to be part of this expedition, considering your linguistic talents and your other… gift. You will get paid well, of course," he added. He fished for a set of papers in his bag. "Here are more specific details on job descriptions and the nature of the expedition itself." He held them out to Tsubasa.
But if Kaito thought he could sway Tsubasa with such an offer, he was mistaken. Tsubasa had already been abroad this winter to early spring, albeit it was on a different planet than now.
His impressions, while in Western Europe for a few university seminars, were that Japanese people were quite resented. No sooner than he had disembarked the plane, and the locals had been looking at him suspiciously and some with loathing. People would harass him on the street with the words "corona", "virus", and "bat-eater". He had then been beaten up by violent-looking youth yelling those words. A few students upon finding out his nationality had made rants against Japanese people and culture because of the country's commercial whaling program; he doubted they felt the same way toward Norway, Denmark, Canada, and other countries with larger whale catches than Japan. Taken together, his experiences overseas had been pretty unpleasant.
"I think I'll stay here," Tsubasa answered curtly. He rose from his seat on the platform as the train he was waiting for arrived. The doors opened, and his feet started moving...
"You know," Kaito said so quietly Tsubasa barely caught on, "the mountains to the east are far higher than even Mount Everest."
Tsubasa froze. A few moments later, the doors of the train had closed.
About two hundred people were gathered in a large conference room in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs's headquarters, where high-ranking officials from the ministry were explaining the parameters and the conditions of the expedition to the prospective employees. The main objectives of the expedition were to make first contact with the inhabitants of one of the main coastal cities of the eastern lands and learn more about their societies, without revealing anything about their level of technological and scientific advancement.
"Because of the passing of the 'New World Technology Outflow Prevention Act', us various ministries and agencies have been unable to send drones close enough to the eastern lands for any sort of surveillance mission," one of the officials explained. "We have no data as to the architecture of the cities or the clothing and the appearances of the peoples. The only things the satellites have gathered is that the port city you are meant to land on has one of the busiest shipping activities on the continent, and is bordered by a longitudinal mountain range to the east. We estimate the population, from the overview, to be no more than twenty thousand." The official sipped a glass of water, then continued:
"The New World Technology Outflow Prevention Act has significantly affected the conditions of this diplomatic and exploratory expedition. The strict formulation of that law means that, for the time being, you are not permitted to bring any piece of technology that originated during the first industrial revolution and onward, nor are you allowed to divulge the existence of such technologies to any locals you might meet. There are a few exceptions, such as medicines, glasses - although they will have to be refitted with older-looking frames - and radio comms, solar-charged laptops, and mini cameras and recorders that you must keep hidden from the peoples you come in contact with. You will not be allowed to bring surgical masks."
"How are we to get there at all then?" one of the ones gathered asked.
The official said with a wry smile: "The same way that got us to Spain in 1614: The old-fashioned sailing ship."
"..."
"Specifically, you will be using a red seal ship," the official helpfully added. "You know, from the early Edo period. Which is also why the size of the expedition is limited to two hundred people, as those ships can't fit that many more. Of course, the ship in question has been somewhat refurbished to be slightly faster and less rocky. And you will be towed about half way by motor ships."
"Are we to pretend to come from a Japan of the 18th century?!" someone burst out.
"Ahh… well, that's kinda the idea. We have the Diet to thank for that." It was clear he was struggling to hold back a grin. "I hope you are all familiar with kimonos and yukatas? Good! Because you won't be wearing anything else for a while, should you embark on this expedition."
"So we are basically edo cosplayers," someone muttered.
The official raised an eyebrow. "Cosplayers don't have real katanas." His expression then turned more serious, and he said: "The government cannot guarantee the safety of anyone who embarks on this expedition. There is nothing we can do if any or even all of you should get detained, imprisoned, tortured, or executed. This is because of Article 9 of our constitution, which forbids our country from using any force for settling disputes with other countries or societies, and because we do not wish to further violate international laws. Neither are we responsible for the risks to your health during your expedition, including the risk of contracting novel diseases. You will all have to sign a form that will absolve the government of any responsibilities toward your rights for the duration of the expedition.
The official paused, then continued: "As you should already know, and this will be repeatedly stressed throughout our preparations, this expedition is strictly speaking illegal under international law. Our country is extremely likely to violate Article 2 of the UN charter by infringing on other state's territorial rights without prior permission from those states, as well as the UN Convention on the Law of the Sea, Section 2, and other treaties. You will have to sign another form which affirms that the government has informed you about this, so that we cannot be held accountable for not having informed you of this beforehand. Guidelines for managing diplomatic incidents because of this are provided for in the manuals, which include offering an official apology on behalf of our government, and offering to negotiate compensation to the injured state. I know, this doesn't seem very useful, but this is the only way we can conduct our foreign relations according to our laws and signed treaties. Any questions?"
"If I'm understanding correctly... The states in the eastern lands aren't members of the UN and haven't signed any treaties, but you are still sure that they should be... that we should act as if they are? Also, how can we be sure that there are even "states" in the modern sense?" an unnamed person asked.
"This has been the Ministry of Foreign Affairs's position with respect to non-members of the UN and their rights under the UN Charter for decades. As for the other question, we don't know how the system or systems of international relations operate on this planet, but our laws and international treaties do not allow us to conduct foreign relations any differently than we did back on Earth in any case. Trust me, this question has been a major source of headaches for the international relations experts and lawyers in our ministry... Any other questions?"
"What are we to eat?" another unnamed person asked.
"As the manual says, the ship will be stored with MREs for you all. Which you are not to show to the locals of course. Once you arrive you are encouraged to try and sample the culinary scene of the city, with the gold and silver coins that you will be provided."
"Coins?" someone expressed. "But the coins you'll give us are not their coins; why would they accept them? In Japan we only accept yen as physical payment, and even older yen bills and coins are rejected. Also how do you even know they settle trade with coins in their... system of exchange? Could they not be doing barter trade or have some form of..." the unnamed person paused, seeming to search for the right words, "...non-market system of exchange, like a reciprocity economy?"
The official sighed. "The manual explains it more at length, but the short version is: we hope that the inhabitants will accept the coins based on their value as pure metals, that even if the coins themselves are not accepted as legitimate currencies, or if currencies are not used in their system of exchange, they can be sold or traded as metals. I'll admit that this thinking is quite tenuous, as we don't even know what value or position gold and silver have in the city you are to debark. If all attempts at engaging in their system of exchange fails, our fallback option is to increase the frequency of our resupply missions to once a month instead of once every three months.
It is our ministry's utmost hope that such an outcome can be averted."
After about an hour of answering all kinds of questions from the prospective members of the expedition, the meeting came to a close. One of the ministry officials said: "All of you who wish to proceed will be quarantined for one week as instructed, during which you are advised to read all the manuals relevant to your division. Once you have been tested negative for the coronavirus and a few other designated diseases at the end of the week, you will be allowed to board the red seal ship that has been prepared for you. Oh, and one thing you should all remember: Even though you have been assigned to different work and analysis groups and have been assigned different tasks, you should all cooperate and look out for each other. Because in the end, you aren't just linguists, or historians, or economic historians. You are also Japanese."
Tsubasa, who had sat quiet in a far-off corner, was one of the first to proceed to the quarantine.
Jeod Longshanks tightened his fists as he stared at the latest balance sheet for his shipping business, the lighting provided by the sun shining through the window.
The financial losses were growing. More and more ships were disappearing, and Jeod still had no inkling as to what was causing those disappearances that had started several months ago. When he and a few other unfortunate merchants had appealed to Lord Risthart in his citadel, the governor had impatiently told them that he would eventually look into it, before waving them off.
Unsurprisingly, Lord Risthart had done nothing of the like. Instead he spent his time as usual passing his nonsense decrees. The latest one, that all business owners were to have their headquarters in the lord's castle was just another headache for Jeod and his cursed business. Technically he was not supposed to conduct business from the comfort of his home, but he reasoned that this barely qualified as such.
And it was not just his business he was concerned about. If the disappearances continued, the Varden and Tronjheim would be running low on supplies, as Jeod and a few other merchants played an important part in supporting the resistance; he could only hope that the elves would further extend their generosity and make up for the difference.
Still he didn't understand what was behind the disappearances. No one had sighted any soldiers, or anything really. If he didn't know any better, he would have thought a Nïdhwal had been devouring everything up. And if this continued, Helen would surely become unbearable...
Jeod signed and leaned back in his chair, taking his eyes off the piece of parchment and onto the rest of his study. Compared to most of Teirm, just his study room would be considered a luxury, with its tapestries, its elaborate rugs and polished wooden floor, and the cozy fireplace at the side. All of this was, in his opinion, overshadowed by the stacked bookshelves. Not only were books highly valuable and not found in most households, as they were expensive to make, they were also a particular passion of his. Seeking to distract himself from his bleak situation, he considered which book he would read for today. He would need to finish it before sundown, when it would become too dark to read comfortably, even with the aid of a dozen candles.
Suddenly the door to his study opened, and the butler strode in. "Master Jeod," he said, "an unusual ship has been sighted just outside the docks of the city."