Digimon Fan Fiction ❯ Once Upon A Time In The Land Of Opportunity ❯ Welcome to America ( Chapter 1 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Digimon Fanfic. I don't own Digimon.

I can't think of anything to say here...so on with it.

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Chapter One: Welcome to America

"Welcome back. For those of you just joining us, we have some jarring news just now breaking. Just eighteen hours after the beginning of a massive coup in Japan, multiple massive nuclear explosions have rocked the entire island. Early indications are that all of Japan was within the blast radiuses. It is believed that this rebel group set off the explosions, though the intentions and details are not yet known. The first of these nuclear explosions took place just thirty eight minutes ago, the final of which thirteen. Here to discuss the fallout from this disaster of immense proportions is Miss Serena Roberts, American ambassador to Japan and one of the leading figures in the attempted relief efforts to Japan."

The small, suited man with a shiny, hard-looking helmet of hair that was combed sideways in tiny black rows of strands turned to his left. The camera angle shifted so as both he and the woman in question could be seen at once. She appeared to be a bit older than the middle aged newscaster, wrinkles that indicated age could be seen faintly on her face. She wore slightly masculine clothing, a black jacket over a white shirt. She nodded to the newscaster to indicate she understood that was her cue.

"Hello Miss Roberts." He began.

"Hello Mister Bounds, thank you for having me on." She began.

"Now, this group of rebels, let's start there. The, uh, Bosozoku I believe they're called?" Bounds asked.

"Yes, the Bosozoku. Typically it's a fairly run-of-the-mill biker gang that participates in small scale crimes. They hold up small stores, mug people, harass people, just like the small gangs here in America. Clearly, over the last several years, this gang became much more under the nose of the Japanese government, because as recently as 24 hours ago, the CIRO and TMPDPSB considered them to be well below their attention."

"And how can one fairly insignificant gang get so powerful without anyone noticing?" Bounds further inquired.

"Well, not on their own. It's fairly obvious that a third party is involved in some way. The Bosozuko have never shown any signs of being capable of something on this scale, so the likely conclusion is that an outside hand was guiding them. Someone very powerful, with access to many things, and wanted the Bosozuko for disposable manpower." She continued.

"No idea who this party could be?"

Roberts shook her head. "No. Considering the events of the last hour, someone who holds a very strong grudge against Japan, or someone who stands to gain a lot from the destruction of Japan."

"And on that note, why did they destroy Japan? I mean, after going through all the trouble to take it over, why would you nuke the whole thing? I mean, surely holding a dictatorship over such a major player in the world's economy would be worth so much to...anyone?" He pushed.

"Well...that I couldn't say. It doesn't make much sense to nuke the entire country. And it could not have been accidental owing to the extreme precision of the explosions. Although, intelligence collected seems to indicate that among the millions killed were virtually all of the Bosozuko gang members." She pointed out.

"So...either a suicide mission or deception on the part of this third party?" Bounds clarified.

"Precisely. And we'll probably never know which one." She added. "Of course, we'll do all we can to find this third party, but I'm afraid whatever evidence there may have been is among the casualties of this event. But right now, our concern is not of uncovering the perpetrators of this-"

"Yes, that was my next question actually. Miss Roberts, can you give us an idea of the deathtoll here?" He asked, leaning back slightly in his chair.

"Well, Japan very recently conducted a census that reported 130 million people. We know around two million escaped either of their own devices or thanks to the efforts of the Japanese government. The wealthy, powerful, important, they were able to make their own way out before it was too late."

"And that brings us to the operation that you were at the head of, right?" Bounds interrupted. "How did that go?"

She gave a strained smile at the newscaster. "Well, it quickly became apparent to us that Japan's defenses weren't going to hold. We suspect foul play from within maybe have interfered with their defense efforts and led to a quick and easy takeover. So, we sent over as many ships and planes as we could. You see, the Bosozuko were so busy trying to make their attack go as quickly as possible, they really didn't have time to try and keep us from evacuating Japanese citizens. So we did, as many and as quickly as we could. Early indications are we managed to get 7.2 million people safely out of the country before the destruction."

"I see." Bounds said back. "Is there any hope of survivors at ground zero?"

"I can't see how. The destruction was precise and devastating. If so much as a single person in Japan survived it'd be a miracle."

"I know Japan meant a lot to you, and your work to keep up relations between our two nations is well-known to many. Again, I'd like to thank you for coming onto our show tonight, less than an hour after the devastation, and being so willing to discuss the details. We are all very sorry for your loss, and for everyone out there who lost something in this." Bounds said slowly, halting for a brief second before pressing on. "What are the plans for those who were evacuated?"

"They're coming here. They're coming to America. By removing them from their homeland, we need to accept responsibility for their placement in a safe location, and America is the only option we can trust to be safe." She explained.

The newscaster raised one eyebrow slightly. "And how will we be doing that?"

"It's not going to be easy, or pretty. But it's doable. We've begun to set up camps. Closed off, guarded areas where these immigrants can live for a period of time. Thanks to government relief funds and donations from various sources, we believe we'll be able to gather enough resources to keep these people alive and healthy for as long as needed."

"How are they going to feel about that? We're talking about introducing more than seven million people to America overnight, and overpopulation is already an issue in this country. How much room do we have for these camps? I know anything is better than being the victim of a nuclear holocaust, but we'd be talking about packing people in these camps like sardines. And even if you put that issue aside, space is already an issue in America. These seven million people, even after they're placed into the general public, are going to have a hell of a time finding adequate living quarters." He questioned.

"One thing to understand about Japan is their own overpopulation issues. We may think we have problems in America, but...well, Japan has...had...a population equivalent to 42% of what we have in America. But in terms of square mileage of land, Japan has only 4% of America's size. Imagine cramming four tenths of our entire population into Montana. Or cramming the entirety of America's population into Texas and Oklahoma." She explained.

"That's quite something." Bounds said quickly.

"Yes, so the Japanese...were very used to cramped conditions. That's why their buildings are built so tall, it's their only hope of actually containing all those people. It's really just a part of the differences in culture. In my visits to Japan I've seen not only single people, but couples live in a single room of a hundred square feet or less. In our country, that indicates poverty or extreme frugality. Not in Japan, it's fairly normal. Over there, space is at such a premium, their housing prices are usually ten to twelve times as costly as housing prices here. Houses consisting of just a thousand square feet go for the equivalent of 1.1 million dollars on a regular basis in Tokyo. I've seen successful businessmen and people who I know for a fact make good money and still reside in average apartments by our standards. Actual houses are extremely rare, owned only by the rich, and most dare not even dream of ever having one. The American Dream is the big house, two car garage, white picket fence, a wife, two kids, and a dog, but the Japanese equivalent is typically an apartment with four rooms." She took a small breath. "It's about possessions. The Japanese..were very technology oriented and often made the most of their small living quarters. Maybe the apartment is small, but they have a nice television, high-end computer, the kids have video game systems, there's no shortage of food or medical attention if required or anything like that."

"So it's not about quantity, but quality, to the Japanese, is what you're saying?" Bounds chimed in again, oblivious to the repeating strained look on Roberts's face.

"Precisely. Now, the camps won't be fun. It will be crowded. They may not enjoy it, but nobody is more prepared to survive it than the Japanese. And it's our intention to get them out of the camps as soon as possible. And if all we can spare is a two room apartment, they'll have no problem whatsoever. Plus, population issue or not, America offers opportunities Japan do-did not. It gives these immigrants a chance to strive for more than they did in Japan, maybe. An overwhelming majority of the evacuees were middle class citizens, who have lived their lives with just enough room to get by." She concluded.

"Fair enough, but what about the issue from our side? The population of the United States grows at a rate of around three million people a year. We're talking about adding twenty-eight months worth of people in a single night, ultimately." Bounds questioned.

"Our plan is to stagger the release. You see, a vast majority of these evacuees are not ready to truly enter the United States. The culture clash would certainly cripple, if not completely kill, any chance they have of integrating themselves into America. So our plan includes giving these evacuees some training in the ways of our culture, providing them with some money, perhaps a more comfortable and permanent residence, and hopefully even a job. Their time in our camps will not be wasted, far from it." Roberts explained.

"Now, in my mind, I'm trying to place myself in the position of these 7.2 million individuals. If the roles were reversed. Having your homeland incinerated, losing everything, trying to take up residence in a foreign country. Even with all these programs you're setting up to help, I just don't think I could make that sort of a change. Wouldn't these people be more comfortable in another oriential country? China, maybe? Less of a culture clash?" Bounds brought up.

"We certainly wouldn't stop them from moving elsewhere. However, since we're the ones who rescued them, we feel it is our responsibility to offer them a home in our country first. And honestly, we very seriously doubt any other country would offer the advantages we're planning on having. If they wish to go to China, they're free to do so, but they'd never have a chance with no money, no housing, no job, and no government assistance." Serena ran her right hand back through her hair quickly. "Remember Bounds, they may say naughty things about us in some circles, but many foreign countries still view America as the land of opportunity."

"Very true. Not much of a chance at all. Of course, there are those who would have you believe there's not much of a chance here. Already, naysayers claim this is a waste of time, resources, and money. Most well-heard of these voices is Senator Kevin Williams of Pennsylvania, who made a statement just an hour ago after being informed of your worst case scenario plans."

At that, he stopped talking, and a clear audio recording of a man speaking quickly, yet still with an air of organization, was played in the news studio.

"Miss Roberts's plan is admirable, certainly, but also a fantasy that will break our already stretched budget and accelerate coming overpopulation problems. What's more, I question the long term benefits of this plan. I understand, there are those who say that the money is well worth the lives we can save, and the overpopulation issue is inevitable either way. It is my understanding that, should the worst happen, the rescue boats will have managed to save over seven million people, or about 0.1% of the world's population, who would otherwise be certainly dead. I don't mean to say averting a segment of a genocide that is approximitely equivalent to the holocaust isn't worth whatever we have to spend. But we must ask ourselves, what life are we condemning these people to? Most of them will die or be killed due to their unfortunate situation and culture clash, many others will turn to crime and the underworld or remain in perpetual poverty, either of which will only increase the problems we have in the nation. We are handcuffing these people to a future of minimum-wage jobs, hate crimes, prejudice, and no hope for anything better. A select few may manage to dig themselves out of the ghettos, make something of themselves, and contribute to society, I'll grant you that. But I do mean, a very, very select few. If all we can provide is a future of flipping burgers and washing dishes, or worse, then we shouldn't even bother trying in my opinion. In fact, of the seven million plus evacuees that are being herded to America, I doubt a single one of them ever owns a house, or pulls in six figures over a year period."

Bounds turned to face the camera, which was now focused on him.

"That was Senator Kevin Williams of Pennsylvania, claiming that we can not offer these Japanese evacuees enough for the rescue to be worthwhile, that we doom a vast majority of them to a hopeless life of barely scraping by, and that not a one of them will enjoy so much as moderate success. Coming up, after the break, we'll have further debate and discussion, along with any breaking news, on this tragedy."

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"Do you think someone looted it? Would someone do that? How long have we been gone?" A voice a little down the ship's railing said in rapid Japanese, rather too loudly given the large crowd that was amassed on the deck. "I gotta get back to my shop, I didn't get a chance to grab anything or even lock the place! Those goddamn gang bangers, I'll bet they'd loot it if given the chance."

"Keep your voice down! Yelling about it doesn't make it less likely, we don't need the whole boat to know about your concerns!" A woman's voice came from about the same area, ironically about as loud.

"What time is it? How long have we been on this boat? I wish we'd get to the docks, I gotta get back to my shop!" Came the first voice again, nonplussed by the second.

Ken looked down the railing of the boat, on which he was holding as he looked out at the land the boat was sailing towards. Being on this ship was not agreeing with him. Beyond the obvious seasickness (an unfortunate number of people on the boat had fallen prey to that, to the point of vomiting and retching becoming the default setting for those on board), the massive red and white metal vehicle just made him feel uneasy. It was so big. Some might have said it felt safer, but Ken tried to avoid all things of great scale. When he was near something that was exceedingly big, it made him feel exceedingly small, which always seemed to manage to scare him. In particular, high ceilings bothered Ken, but this massive boat more than did the trick. Plus, he had the incalcuable misfortune of having rewatched 'Titanic' just three days ago, rendering him subconsciously paranoid as well.

The crowd of people was admittedly thick, but it was not yet cramped. He could see, through the thicket of passengers, the conversing couple who were the sources of the loud voices.

Grimacing slightly, he walked down the railing towards them, accidentally glancing down at the ocean as he did so. He had been trying, quite hard, not to think too hard about the ocean they were floating on, nor look at it. After all, when it came to large scale, the ocean was rivaled only by perhaps outer space. And being this far away from civilization, in the middle of nowhere, was enough to keep him from any sleep the previous night. Even now, with land in sight, he was far from fond of it. And even though the sea was calm sans the ripple effect of the large boat, looking as pleasant and peaceful as an ocean could in it's blue, majestic glory, he longed for the comfort of land.

"I wonder if I can bribe anyone here to be the first to get off the boat? I really need to get back." The man continued to mutter all-too-loudly to no one in particular. "I mean-"

"I wouldn't worry too much about that." Ken said, coming to a stop a few feet away from the pair. Perhaps mudane conversation would keep his mind off the boat until they reached the docks. "Seeing as how we're nearly nine thousand miles away from your shop."

A blank look met this seemingly inane statement. The man was short and squat, a large bald spot on the top of his head surrounded by a rim of black hair. Finally, the man had a counter. "That's ridiculous! Why would we be nine thousand miles from Japan?! It's right over there, I can see land, look!" He pointed in the direction of the shore, where tiny buildings could be made out in the distance, backdropped by a perfect blue sky. "Unless you're implying I have the power to see things nine thousand miles away."

"I'm sure you have fine eyesight sir. I merely wanted to spare you a severe disappointment once we got to shore. You see, my wristwatch-" he indicated a watch on his wrist with a golden band and frame on a black face, "has a built in compass, which indicated we were sailing east when we first left Japan. As of this moment, we are still sailing east, with a slight northern turn. Since this boat is not capable of making a voyage around the globe in twelve hours, any land that this ship is sailing towards while heading east could not possibly be Japan. Furthermore, my watch also indicates the time is 6:30 AM, but the position of the sun from our perspective could not disagree much more." Ken explained, enjoying the chance to logically argue his point with such fine detail, almost enough to make him forget his position.

Slowly, the man looked at his own watch, a silver band with a white face, then at the sun. He took a few moments, perhaps trying to determine the rough time according to the sun's position, before looking back to Ken. "I see." He said simply. "Yet, this ship seems to be quite clearly heading towards that land. Where are they taking us?"

"A short time ago, we passed through the Panama Canal, meaning we are now on the eastern side of the Americas. Based on the north-east-east direction we sail in now, I'm assuming we're seeing some part of Northern America, and the sun's indicating of 3:00 PM agrees with that." Ken said, looking up at the sun as he said the last part.

"You're pretty smart." The woman finally said. "Like...like a windows."

Ken glanced at the woman, a blank look on his face. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Y'know...you're like a windows. Really quick, smart, logical-"

"Oh, you mean a computer." Ken reasoned. "Yes, that's what I get for working around them all my life." The top of her head actually rose perhaps an inch above the man's, although she was leaner in build by a considerable margin. Mousy brown hair fell around her face, which was slightly more wrinkled and worn than one might anticipate, given how young her voice sounded. "In any case, given the time we've been sailing...I'd say we're a few minutes away from docking in Florida."

"What's a Florida?" The man asked. "I thought you said this was America."

"It is. America is divided up into states. Florida's one of them." Ken explained. "A rather nice one, so they say. Have you seen a map of America lately, mister...er-"

"Oh. Oh yes. I'm Akira. Akira Nagano. And this is Masuyo." He pointed at the woman. "And yes, I've seen maps of America."

Ken propped his forearms up on the railing, looking upward slightly so as not to look at the ocean. "Florida is on the south east corner. Perhaps you recall a protruding stick of land? That makes up a majority of the state."

"What? You mean like the dick? America's dick? We're going to America's dick?" Akira replied, looking out again at the land mass coming closer and closer. "Sounds great."

"Why?" Masuyo piped up. "Why are we being brought here? I thought they were just getting us out of Japan for a few hours so there would be less civilians at risk while they beat back the coup. It's been twelve hours, what could be taking so long?"

Ken cleared his throat, then stood up, hands on his hips. "I don't know. Maybe...they won." He said slowly.

"What do you mean? The Bosozoku, win? That's absurd. Sure, maybe they could cause a decent disturbance for awhile, but once the military decides to send in the big dogs, they wouldn't have a chance!" Akira exclaimed.

"I can't think of any other reason why they'd be taking us to Florida. If we needed to dock just to fill up on supplies and gas, I'd assume we'd just do so in California. Maybe the battle's taking longer than they thought." Ken reasoned. "And they want to store us here until it's safe to go back. I imagine the western seaboard is clogged up with boats already so they decided to take us to the eastern side."

"You know, I never caught your name." Akira finally said.

"Ken." Ken replied simply. "Don't ask for my last name, I've learned not giving it out makes people take me more seriously."

"Fair enough." Akira looked back towards the large structure that peered out from the ship's deck, towering over all of them and housing most of the boat's contents. "When do you think we'll get back?"

"Oh. I can't imagine more than a few days. Like you said, it's just the Bosozoku." Ken said.

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Even after the boat docked, it was nearly an hour before Ken was herded off, as what seemed to be an infinite number of people walked off on a very narrow bridge down to the wooden walkway. Now, the boat was truly crowded, as everyone on board was up top now, attempting to squeeze themselves closer to the exit, creating a mash of bodies that had no discernable order. People just filed off when they were close enough to do so.

However, finally, Ken was down on the dock and could appreciate more what the boat had done for him. After all, were it not for it whisking him away, he could be dead. He had been luckily far removed from the areas that were initially ravaged, but the news had explained just how bloody and violent it had gotten. Indeed, who knows what may have happened had he not managed to get to this boat?

But the masses were far from free. Men in bright blue uniforms were positioned all along the docks, ushering the masses down it. Ken thought there was an unusual concentration of these men, given there was only one possible path to walk. Nevertheless, he stayed with the pack as the flood of flesh rolled down the wet wooden path.

Once off the dock, Ken squeezed his way over to one of the uniformed guards, moving out of the way of the marching crowd by shuffling next to the man.

"Excuse me, do we still need to go through customs? Because I don't need government issued sleeping quarters, I'd like to use this opportunity to look around-"

"Sir, please step back into line and proceed in the indicated direction." The guard interrupted wearily, pointing in the direction of the moving crowd.

"Oh, so there are customs? At what point will I be allowed to break off? I'd like to stay in my own hotel. I just need to get somewhere where I can get my money-"

"Sir, we're not allowed to explain anything. Please just move with the crowd, you'll understand soon." The guard pointed again in the direction the masses were headed in. Ken stood there in silence for half a beat, then allowed himself to be swept back into the crowd. He wasn't terribly surprised that the guard wasn't overly cheerful or helpful, and would not have been surprised to be rudely rebuked, but the response he got was puzzling. The man sounded...sad. In fact, he almost sounded scared.

Well, if what he said was true, he'd understand 'soon'.

After a fairly short trek down a concrete path, they were on the streets of an unnamed city in what he assumed to be Florida. But oddly, there was no traffic, not of automobiles rumbling down the cracked, painted asphalt of the streets, nor of people strolling down the lighter colored concrete sidewalks. Ken peered to the left, down the street, and saw various roadblocks set up a few dozen yards away. As they proceeded right, various shops and places of business could be glanced at as they moved past, although they were all locked and almost all of them were entirely vacated.

It was just two blocks later that the pack was led off the road. A chainlink fence had been erected in a large grass field just beyond the chain of buildings, enclosing off a fairly large area. Within the fence were three massive wooden structures. Although his view of a good portion of the area was blocked, he could see a few of the same uniformed guards meandering about within.

A large gate in the fence was swung open, and the hordes were directed inside. Ken paused for a second, pondering how much nicer a quality hotel would be than what appeared to be a minimum securty prison, but a slight pressure on his back reminded him of how many people were behind him and how easy it could be to be trampled underfoot in a large crowd like this. So, with great reluctance, he stuck with the throng into the enclosed area.

He noticed that some of the uniformed guards, after their job ushering was over, began to spread themselves out just outside the fence, again making him think of a low-end jail. Once inside, the cluster of people began to spread themselves out within the confined space, now free to at least move in any desired direction if only for a short distance. Ken himself had quickly ducked to the right as soon as he was within the walls and watched the scores of Japanese civilians filter in.

Eventually, the gate was closed, but there were still countless people outside. After a moment of confusion as they stood there, wondering if they had perhaps been set free by some strange chance, the remaining uniformed men motioned for them to continue down the road.

Ken peeled his eyes away from the now trite scene and looked around. He had to admit, between the cloudless blue sky, reasonable temperature, and lush, green grass, it was sort of hard to be in too bad of a mood. Ken had visited California once before, during a supposed business interview that was just an excuse for those Nintendo executives to do some travelling while getting a feel for Ken's computer savvy beyond what a transcript printout could tell you. He thought it was rather nice there, and although he had infinitely more fun in California than he was having now in Florida, it seemed to be even nicer here. He hoped that he might have the chance to enjoy it.

A loud squeal echoed out over the holding area, causing everyone to wince and glance up for the source. Ken noticed, behind one of the large wooden structures, a tall pole with a series of large megaphone-shaped speakers perched on the top, that seemed to be the source. He noticed several people begin to move towards the pole, as if this could accomplish anything, but Ken stayed put and awaited what we hoped was a revealing announcement.

After a brief moment of silence, it came, in broken but understandable Japanese.

"Hello, citizens of Japan. I would like to welcome all of you to...this temporary holding area we have set up over the last 24 hours or so. We apologize for the cramped conditions and any inconvienence. Furthermore, we'd also like to apologize for the manner in which the evacuation was carried out. We understand that all of you were rushed out with no warning or time to prepare, meaning you were forced to leave basically everything you own behind. I know many of you were not fully aware of everything going on with regards to the coup, but we would like to inform you that it was fully necessary."

Ken glanced around at the people around him, who all seemed to have furrowed brows and many were staring off into space. Ken spoke English as well as any American-born, and through experience had learned of common errors people made in speaking Japanese when it was their second or third language, but it was likely most other people here could only get a general idea of what this man was saying.

"A direct order was made to all the uniformed ladies and gentlemen you saw who escorted you here, to not discuss anything with any of you beyond what was needed to get you here. So please, do not direct your anger at them. Now, we've prepared pamphlets that will be distributed to anyone who wants them, free of charge, that will explain every detail of this unfortunate situation. But before this, the American government thinks a human voice should explain this to you. With great reluctance, I will be the bearer of most unfortunate news."

Ken thought of Akira the shopowner, wherever he was now. He couldn't help but give a small smile, the bad news likely coming in the form of destroyed property and looted shops.

"The Bosozuko, as many of you know, began a coup over 24 hours ago, which we had received intelligence of shortly before. It quickly became clear the Bosozuko had amassed the manpower and firepower to actually pose a significant threat, and given their clear disregard for the lives of innocent civilians, America decided to assist with the relief effort."

The voice gave a pause, which was returned by an equal silence from the crowd, before continuing, in a voice that got more weary as it went on.

"Part of the intelligence collected on the coup was the knowledge of the Bosozuko being in possession of nuclear weapons, and the belief that their ultimate goal was the total destruction of Japan. Since they had shown remarkable efficiency in moving towards this goal, our relief effort included a mass evacuation, which is where we are now."

The voice paused again, even longer, as the smile slowly fell off Ken's face. Nuclear weapons...a sympathetic guard...mass migration to America...the strain that seemed to multiply with every sentence on the voice of the speaker...it fit far too well.

"Japan has fallen victim to an organized and precisely measured nuclear strike. The entire country has been reduced to a nuclear wasteland. I'm afraid there is practically no hope of survival for anyone still on the island. Nor is there any hope of repopulating the area for many years."

Ken swallowed hard as he heard murmurings break out around him. He heard snippets of conversation, clearly most people believed the man's broken Japanese had led him to say something he did not mean to. Ken, however, had heard enough. No man could have such a poor understanding of the Japanese language that they could make that bad of a screwup, while still being asked by the government to deliver an extremely important message to thousands of people.

"Again, I am very sorry for having to deliver this news to you. Again, we feel you should know before you hear it through gossip and rumor, or read about it. We feel you all deserve the right to know. I hold only the deepest sympathy for those who lost everything in this disaster. You have been brought here, to Miami, Florida, because we Americans feel our relief mission is far from over."

Ken was listening, but not processing anything. He was listening only to put the information in storage for later, to be understood later. For now, all he could dare to process was the revelation that Japan was gone. Everything. Leveled. Flattened to nothingness. Everything he owned, everything he had ever enjoyed, and quite likely, almost everyone he knew. And they wouldn't come back.

"It is our plan to help you, citizens of the nation once known as Japan, start up again. The details of this plan will be given in the pamphlet. We hope that, by providing you with culture training, money, a place to stay, and job opportunities, we can help ease the pain of losing your homeland. My deepest condolences."

The audio cut off. The colored drained from Ken's face as he fell to his knees. He was dimly aware of people around him, running around, talking to each other, trying to clarify the message of the man. Ken went down on all fours, staring at the ground, crushing realization after realization washing over him as slowly people began to scream and run around madly around him. For them, it had taken a few blissful minutes to understand the announcement. They were a few minutes behind him. A few minutes that he was truly jealous of.

Ken kept himself slightly more composed than most of the others. Although, in fairness, he had nothing left to throw up after the boat ride, or he may have joined in on that reaction. After a few minutes of shock, Ken wondered what angered reaction might best suit the situation. Should he begin punching the ground? Try to pick a fight with one of the guards? Just start screaming like a madman? Nothing seemed appropriate. He had once come back to his car after a mediocre seafood dinner to find a massive scratch on his '10 Corvette, and flipped out on that scale. These people had leveled his entire homeland. He couldn't muster up anything.

So slowly, he just stood back up, took several settling breaths, and walked aimlessly towards one of the wooden structures. He needed to get away. Needed to get away from all these people, who were putting forth pathetic efforts at a proper reaction to this holocaust. Efforts not even worth doing. He actually felt somewhat insulted that his fellow countrymen would do something so shallow and trite as screaming or crying in response to this. He just wanted to be alone.

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Ken sat in his cot, one of thousands set up in the wooden buildings, not noticably different from any other. Ken had sat on that cot, alone with his thoughts, for much of the day before people began to join him. Indeed, he had slightly less animosity toward his countrymen now. The ruckus they had kicked up outside in blind rage, which had driven the uniformed-guards to their breaking point just to keep the jail secure, was an acceptable start to the requisite anger at this travesty. He hadn't seen it, but had heard enough screaming, ordering, and even shooting to clue him into that much. Finally, people had joined him in the sleeping building, taking a cot for themselves and falling to sleep, exhausted from the events of the day.

Ken, however, found no sleep as he continued to mull. He was past the shock of realization and generic anger, and his thoughts turned to 'what now'? Indeed, what now? He had removed his gold watch from his wrist, and was now turning it over in his hands and peering at it. It occured to him that, since the small amount of emergency Yen he kept in in a hidden compartment of his right shoe was now worth less than the paper it was printed on, this watch was probably the only thing of value left to him.

Should he sell it? Would it be enough to carve out any kind of a decent living? Would it buy me enough time to get a new life started? How much help will the Americans really offer? Will I get a chance to showcase my abilities in this country? Does my degree count for anything here? Is a 21-year old computer prodigy with a masters degree in computer science worth anything in America?

Paths that represented the directions he could take his life from here weaved in and out of his mind, none of the endings being quite clear. But it's not as if there was any hope of sleep, not with his brain insisting on working so hard.

And then...he thought of whoever it was behind those nuclear bombs. They wanted Japan dead. They had wanted every single Japanese citizen dead. Their goal was the ultimate destruction of every last vestige of Japanese culture. The survival of those who had evacuated, it was in defiance of their goal. Proof that they had not completely succeeded.

He thought of revenge, taking his pound of flesh for these injustices against humanity, getting the chance to at least make the people behind this suffer.

Slowly, he took the watch in his left hand and opened it up so he could slide his right hand into it. Letting it close around his right wrist, he looked at it closely again.

"The best revenge is to live well." Ken said quietly, to himself. No one else even noticed, they all seemed to be asleep.

"Ken Ichijouji." He said, again to himself. "The computer whiz from Tamachi, guaranteed success story, assured of great things throughout his life." And then, he laid back, feeling his brain slowly come to peace with the multitude of options and condense down to one. "Welcome to America."