(2) Dystopian Will

Another day doing the same thing.

As coworkers we never greet each other, preferring to concentrate on our own business in our own independent offices.

Entering the letters from one computer into another computer.

This is my job.

You might not think that a job like this would have a monthly salary of ￥10,000.

A letter is sent to me at regular intervals, approximately every ten minutes. Out of curiosity I once tried to see if the letters spelled out anything.

I copied them out onto a small slip of paper beside me, but discovered this was completely meaningless:

(N M K G W T J P)

But due to the high salary, I continued working hard at my job.

Of course, the daily eight hours of work pa.s.s by very quickly.

You wouldn"t feel tired this way at all.

Ding~ Another letter, this time an "L".

I calmly type it into the other computer and press enter.

And finally I"ve finished work. Nothing"s more comfortable than returning to the warmth of my home and having a hot water bath.

Perhaps this is as satisfying as life gets.

Wait, what"s this?

Why is there a slip of paper stuck to my bathtub?

Whose prank is this?

But normally I"m the only one in the house?

Upon closer inspection, the paper slip actually has "Bathtub" neatly written on it.

I bought the bathtub quite recently, so it must be a prank by the seller.

I tear off the paper slip.

And my bathtub disappears.

Replacing it is a cardboard box.

And I"m here sitting in the cardboard box, submerged in water.

Yet the cardboard box isn"t wet at all.

Wait, this water? I raise my head and glance at the shower head above me.

There"s a slip of paper stuck to the shower head as well, just whose prank was this?

I tear off the slip of paper and the shower head turns into a shabby baseball bat.

…

"Doctor, I can"t take it anymore. Am I ill? I can see paper slips stuck to all sorts of objects with the objects" names written on them. If I tear off the paper slip then the object will transform into something different. Do you understand what I"m saying? For example, if this table had a paper slip on it, then if I tore off the paper slip, it would turn into a boulder, or something just as strange."

The doctor looks at me listlessly and says,

"I think it"s because you"re under too much pressure from work. How about I give you a prescription for some calming medicine?"

"Around how long will it take for me to get better?" I ask, puzzled.

"There are sixty three pills in this bottle, have one pill every day. If you still haven"t recovered after two months, then come find me again." The doctor replies flatly.

On the way home I take a look at the medicine in my hands.

There"s a paper slip stuck to it. I slowly tear it off.

And the medicine turns into a bicycle pump.

I think my illness may have gotten worse.

Of course, I can"t just stop working even if I"m feeling sick. The next morning I arrive at the company.

And another day of work begins as usual.

Ding~ Another letter sent from the computer, this time an "O".

I type "O" into the other computer and press enter.

Wait, it can"t be? Not again?

There"s a slip of paper stuck to the computer monitor.

My hand subconsciously grabs the slip of paper. Will my work disappear if I tear it off?

I don"t dare to think anymore and take back my right hand.

One minute, two minutes…

I stay lost in thought for ten minutes.

Ding~ Another letter jumps out from the screen, a "V".

I immediately wake up and type the letter "V" into the other computer, before pressing enter.

What"s wrong with me? I rub my eyes vigorously.

Are my eyes damaged?

Then I look towards the ceiling, oh G.o.d!

The ceiling that I"ve never closely looked at has a paper slip stuck to it as well.

This is crazy, I"m simply not going to believe this.

I place my chair onto the cabinet.

I exert a lot of effort to clamber up the cabinet and step onto the chair.

Slowly standing up to touch the ceiling.

And firmly grabbing the slip of paper.

It reads, "Halo Company Building", the name of my company.

Trembling, I tear off the paper slip.

I am still myself, but the company building has become a pile of ruins.

My work computer is still in its original place.

When everything is telling me. That I"ve gone crazy? I think they"re the ones who are crazy.

Ding~ The next letter jumps out on the screen, the letter "E".

I smile lightly and tear off the paper slip stuck to the computer monitor.

Just as expected, I"ve been working in front of a trashcan all these years.

Could this get any more ironic? What"s happened to this world?

I hold my head in my hands as I run, avoiding the diverse crowds.

Escaping the seemingly bustling streets into the outskirts of the city and beyond.

The city that I once thought was a city…I wonder if there"s a paper slip with "city" written on it somewhere. If I tore it off would everything before me turn into a pile of ruins?

And in the distance I actually catch sight of a huge wall.

To think that there was actually a wall over ten metres high surrounding this city that I had never left!

The height of the wall breaks past the horizon, yet the wall can"t be seen from inside the city at all.

The wall appears endless and seems to surround the entire city in which I"ve lived for thirty years.

Just what is this? Curious, I begin to follow along the wall. After walking for a very long time I actually see a half-opened door.

Inside the door there"s a military base, with skeletal remains and rusty weapons strewn across the floor.

In the room furthest inside, there"s a blue leather package with an old doc.u.ment inside and also a diary yellowed by age.

The doc.u.ment inside the blue leather package is t.i.tled: .

The content in the yellowing diary is as below:

Our mayor has abandoned us and the enemy country has attacked us with nuclear weapons. The government has given up on our area and has built a huge, towering wall to completely seal the way out. The rich have bought escape tickets from the mayor at a sky-high price and all the exits have been resealed. There simply isn"t a way to get out, so poor people like us have no choice but to struggle on the verge of death. But Doctor Gamma didn"t abandon us, even if we became deformed from the nuclear fallout. Our descendants have become increasingly mutated with each generation, so much that they can live just by eating soil. Doctor Gamma is an admirable psychologist and taught us how to use the power of hypnosis as well. He repeatedly told us that by sticking on the names of any desired objects onto other things, our descendants would be able to see whatever things they wanted. All of our mutated offspring would the inherit this perfect illusion. They would be able to live in this perfect utopia.

I feel my face and discover that my appearance has become very strange.

I can clearly see my deformed arms and pustules. And I scream, loudly.

Ten days later, I return to work.

My new job is at a different technology company called Black Mountain, still with my original monthly salary of ￥10,000.

The nature of my job hasn"t actually changed much compared to before.

Ding~ Look, I"ve just received another letter. This time it"s "S".

I type it into the other computer and hit enter.

In the process I also press down tightly on the paper slip stuck to the computer monitor.

Please don"t fall off again. That would simply be dreadful.