Welcome to the NHK!

by Tatsuhiko Takimoto

  “Female fireflies flash their lights only to have intercourse with the males; males twinkle just to have intercourse with the females. And once their mating has finished, they die. In short, their reproductive instinct is the single, absolute reason for fireflies to live. In that simple instinct and their simple world, no kind of sadness can intervene. This is precisely why fireflies are so fleetingly beautiful. Ah! Fireflies are the best!

  "In contrast, please consider the human species this time. You’ll find an extremely complex society before you.

  “I believe Freud stated something like ‘Humans are creatures with broken instincts.’ Whenever I deal with any kind of frustration, rage, or sadness in life, I can’t help but to remember those words.

  “Modern concepts such as ‘love’ and ‘romance’ have made man, this creature with broken instincts, bury his original nature. It’s all a lie, of course. To cover up the deception, mankind has to create still more entirely new concepts. This is why the world becomes increasingly complex with each new day.

  “However, that complexity cannot hide the various contradictions born from our broken instincts. They create hopelessly fundamental oppositions: words and instinct, ideas and the physical self, reason and sexual desire. These opposing concepts are like two snakes biting at each other’s tails. The two snakes constantly are locked in a fierce battle for superiority, so they turn and turn, causing us more and more pain.

  “Do you understand? Do you get what I’m explaining? What? You don’t understand the meaning at all? Well, that’s okay.

  “What I'm trying to say—“

  I threw my pillow at Yamazaki. “Shut up! Die!”

  Yamazaki, seated on top of the kotatsu, bent back his upper body to avoid the pillow and quietly continued his speech. “Because of our broken instincts, we are in pain. We continue in pain because our instincts have been twisted by reason. So, what are we supposed to do? Should we abandon knowledge? Throw away reason? In any event, that wouldn’t be possible. For better or worse, we ate the fruit of knowledge long, long ago. This was written in that religious pamphlet ‘Awaken!’ that I got from that woman earlier.”

  “What?! What the hell are you thinking, waking me up at two o’clock in the morning, starting an unreasonably obscure speech and drinking in my room?”

  “Our reason and instinct are in opposition, but we can’t get rid of either one. Given that, what are we meant to do? Compromise appropriately and start trying to date girls? Get married and try having kids? That is, after all, the conventional path. However, I discovered… Women… those things just aren’t human. Instead, they may, in fact, be closer to monsters. About a year ago, I realized the truth. While I was working at a convenience store to earn my tuition, all kinds of things happened. They’re really terrible memories, and I don’t want to think about them anymore.” Having said all this in one breath, Yamazaki look a second beer from my fridge.

  Before I could stop him, he opened the pull tab and guzzled it down in one swallow.

  Suddenly, he screamed, “Women are crap! Screw women!”

  Yamazaki’s face was alarmingly red. He already seemed to be drunk. He gets drunk quickly yet keeps drinking all the time, anyway. I once wondered if he might not be a budding alcoholic; then, at some point, he explained, “My family home in Hokkaido was a wine factory. I’ve been drinking since I was in middle school. Don’t worry about me—I'm totally fine!”

  I wasn’t sure which part of him was totally fine. Once Yamazaki got drunk, he wouldn’t stop his tirades until he ran out of steam, even if you yelled or ignored him. I’d learned this the hard way.

  I had no idea what to do with him.

  Then, he seemed to deflate; his shoulders dropped with his voice. “Women are crap. There are still times when I’d like to date a girl, though. I’m human, after all, and that can’t be helped … Anyway, I had another terrible experience. There was the cutest girl in my class. Her name was Nanako. At my school, where otaku girls from around the country gather, she alone had a decent-looking face. I don’t even have to tell you that I’m rather good looking myself. My delicate body and attractive features got me picked on and teased by the girls in grade school—now, though, I figured that my good looks had to be advantageous.

  “I said to Nanako ‘Let’s go out!’ She replied, ‘Sorry, Yamazaki, but you’re kind of, you know … On top of that, I’m dating Kazuo.’

  "What do you mean by ‘you know’? What am I ‘kind of’? And by Kazuo, you mean that greasy guy? I… I went out of my way to confess my feelings for you politely, so what’s this all about?!”

  Yamazaki waved both arms around, shouting, “Know your place, you bitch! I mean, you could at least let me do you! Don’t screw around with me!”

  I felt an intense wave of fear. It seemed I had stumbled upon another of his hidden facets. As if noticing my appalled expression, Yamazaki hurriedly gave me a big fake smile. “Ha! Ha ha ha! No, no, I’m just kidding. Just a joke! How could a guy like me have confessed anything to a girl? Real-life women are all crap, anyway. Ever since the time in middle school when I was almost raped by my big sister’s friends, I gave up on them.”

  This was an even more shocking disclosure. Trying to appear composed, I continued smoking my cigarette. Meanwhile, Yamazaki’s voice became increasingly loud. “Or something! That was all a lie. Everything I’ve said has been lies. Ha ha ha, I’m a little drunk, huh? Eh? What’s wrong, Satou? Don’t look at me like that. What’s with those expressions that seem to mix pity, derision, and fear? Don’t… don't look at me. Don’t look at me with those eyes!”

  I had no idea in the least what I should do.

  ***

  I guess Yamazaki basically was trying to say that women screw up men.

  “Real women aren’t decent at all. Being human is about our instinct for sex with women. Our reason naturally would reject women, yet our instinct really, really desires nothing more than sex with women. So, we’re in trouble.” This seemed to be the way his discussion was heading.

  Why are you telling me this?! I wanted to yell at him. However, like a grown-up, I endured it.

  Thinking about it, he really was an unfortunate person. Because of modern society’s own warped nature, his mental state likewise had become thoroughly twisted.

  Poor guy.

  “No, don't feel sorry for me!”

  “Calm down. Hey, here’s an idea! Why not go to a brothel? If you do, maybe this confusion will be cleared away.”

  “Haven’t I just been explaining this? How I don’t even notice real women?”

  “What other kinds of women are there, besides real women?” The second I asked him this, he shifted and looked as though he were about to break into tears at any second. Then, his expression turned to pride.

  Grinning slyly, he said, “They’re right nearby, aren’t they? You haven’t realized yet? Satou, this week, you must have been overcome by their charms, too.”

  I was speechless.

  “You realize now what I’m trying to say, don’t you, Satou?”

  I blinked.

  “How lovable,” he continued, “are the girls who live in the two-dimensional world. How wonderful are those girls inside my monitor.”

  All right, given his lengthy speech, I had to at least acknowledge Yamazaki’s passion. “Okay, Yamazaki, erotic games have an amazing culture.”

  “As long as you understand, that’s all that matters. Erotic games are the sole signpost guiding human reason to triumph over instinct. So long as we have erotic games, we don’t need anything more to do with real women. Erotic games are our hope. So, Satou, have you just about finished your plan for the game?”

  “J-just a little longer… Anyway, don’t you think the games you lent me are sort of skewed?”

  “Skewed how?”

  “Well, you know … I mean, the characters in the games are a bit too young; like, the heroines all appear to be no more than elementary school children….”

  “Ha!
What are you saying now, Satou? This isn’t like you. To start with, the heroines of erotic games are no more than fictional characters, drawn with two-dimensional computer graphics. In order to express innocence, purity, and femininity, there’s no personification more appropriate than a little girl, is there? We’re relaxed by the symbol of the little girl. And when they’re 2D characters, they have no chance of dealing any blows to our fragile emotional state. On top of that, the motif becomes that of the weakest character possible in social, physical, and emotional senses—the little girl. Because of that double safety lock, we are protected from being hurt, and we can escape the fear of being rejected. That is to say, this is the true meaning of moe: ideal, young, innocent femininity. Do you understand? You do understand, don’t you?”

  I mulled over his words… I don’t understand at all! I tried to scream, but by that time, Yamazaki already had disappeared from my room.

  On top of my kotatsu, he'd left a present: a single CD.

  Part Two

  I thought carefully about it the next morning. It sounded like Yamazaki had been dumped by a girl previously. In response, he’d gotten drunk in despair and had decided, “Screw real women—I have erotic games!” At least, that might explain what had happened.

  However, if that were the whole story, he wouldn’t have had to go out of his way to share his embarrassment with me. He hadn’t needed to declare that he was this huge lolicon. He had hedged the confession with a rather incomprehensible theory; ultimately, though, he was still a lolicon who liked erotic games. He was dangerous. Or, at the very least, Yamazaki was more dangerous than I had ever imagined.

  When I put the CD he had left the night before into my computer, I was horrified by the contents. This was no good; it was too dangerous. The 700MB CD-R had been stuffed with JPEG images. They were photographs—portraits of a girl who appeared to be in the latter years of elementary school. Worse, she was completely naked. In short, they were nude photos.

  Deliberately, I closed the curtains of my room. The recent child pornography laws made this CD way too dangerous. Although innocent, I could be thrown in jail, all because of Yamazaki. What the hell was he thinking? Just constrain yourself to some CG, dammit! I wanted to berate him, but he was at the Yoyogi Animation Institute.

  On my fifteen inch computer display the naked girl smiled perkily.

  My chest hurt, and I couldn’t breathe. Holding my head, I decided to explore the entirety of the CD, for the time being. As I did, I found a text file, which I opened in a text editor. It was a message from Yamazaki.

  “Well, what do you think, Satou? You’re pretty scared, aren’t you? Remember, in order to make a high-quality erotic game, you need real-world references. Please, let these real-life images fill your imagination. This is Rika Nishimura's photo book. She’s known as the greatest treasure of the lolicon world. Because they’re all soft-core images, you can relax. Okay then, let’s make a great erotic game using Rika's smile!”

  That bastard! I trembled with rage. For one thing, when had I even agreed to make a Lolita-style erotic game? Oh, come on, don’t push your tastes onto me.

  Hm. It occurred to me when I considered it more carefully—maybe he was trying to convert me!?

  It might have been different back in the time of Genji Hikari; in the modern age, however, society considers lolicons deviants to be destroyed. Thus, it must be extremely difficult to find others to share your interests. That must be why Yamazaki planned to make me his partner in creating an erotic game, into one of his lolicon pals.

  No, these suspicions of mine were, plainly put, nothing more than simple guesses, and he simply might be trying to make a high-quality erotic game. After all, in the current erotic game scene, games with little girl heroines were fairly common. In fact, it could even be said that Lolita-type characters directly symbolized this diseased media genre.

  Now that I thought about it, another description for an erotic game was to call it a bishoujo game. Not a “beautiful woman” game but a “beautiful girl” game. I thought that some deep nexus of the problem was hidden around this point.

  What will happen to Japan, where these bishoujo games are establishing a huge market? Pretending to consider this lofty social problem, forced myself to stop worrying. Then, timidly, I loaded the Rika Nishimura photo collection onto my computer screen.

  A few seconds passed.

  I shuddered … Rika Nishimura was actually pretty cute.

  “N-no, no! I’m just temporarily confused!” In my dim, six-mat, one-room apartment, my cry echoed emptily. And Rika smiled at me with that innocent smile, displaying her protruding ribs, her endlessly pliant body.

  I gulped and clicked the mouse with trembling fingers. The next image was displayed on the monitor. Oh, Rika…

  This is wrong! I raised my head and, with the entire force of my body, slammed it into the wall. It made a thumping sound. Tears fell from my eyes. It hurt. Yet Rika was still smiling … Oh, Rika.

  No, no!

  I hurriedly opened Internet Explorer. Right! The problem was simply that Rika herself was too cute; that didn’t mean I was a lolicon or anything. I just happen to be affected by her beauty, but I’m still normal. To prove it, I needed to find other Lolita images on the Internet. It was obvious that any Lolita images other than Rika’s wouldn’t excite me in the least.

  However, thanks to the new child pornography laws, it was much more difficult to find Lolita images on the Internet than expected. I tried skimming the surface, but all I found were fraudulent sites using overseas telephone numbers.

  But Id be damned if anyone could doubt my net-surfing skills. I was a veteran, with four years of intensive connection to the Internet. To find valuable data, the best thing was to make the rounds on the message boards. These were the laws of the wired world. I decided to start with a bot-style search engine to scan the porno-image info message boards.

  What was this? Several thousands of pages of results … Even after refining my search conditions, I still got several hundred hits. There were just too many.

  For the moment, I tried opening the very first page. Instantly, with frightening energy, a seemingly endless number of browser windows opened on their own.

  “Dammit! A trap!” I swore. It was one of those multiple-browser-opening attacks, using JavaScript, often found on pay pages. Even so, I didn’t flinch. Got it! It’s too big a task for Internet Explorer.

  For a case like this, I needed to switch to a tab browser. Tab browsers: These excellent browsers allowed one to view multiple pages at once, in a single window. I downloaded Donut, the browser widely reputed to be most stable among the tab browsers, and opened it immediately. Oh! This makes browsing so easy! At this rate, I would find the page I was looking for soon.

  I opened as many simultaneous pages as my computer’s resources would allow and searched them all. Lolita images, Lolita images … In new tabs, I opened all the pages linked to the message boards, then clicking on further links from the initial pages, and checking them all, top to bottom. I was looking for an underground-type porno message board.

  Don’t be tricked by pay pages! Beware of files with .exe extensions! Suppress the annoying ads with pop-up blocker software!

  The hands on my clock advanced; outside my window, it was already night. The blue-white glow of my monitor was the only light in my six-mat, one-room apartment. Even the time it would have taken to turn on the fluorescent lights would have been a waste. My wondrous, Godlike typing speed blows through the wide-open Internet with wild intuition! Fear my light-speed mouse skills!

  I’m an untamed beast!

  I’m a wolf!

  Part Three

  When I returned to reality, a week had passed. I liberated myself from the mouse and keyboard for the first time in several dozen hours and entered the bathroom. Reflected in the mirror was an unbelievably dangerous person—in short, me. The stubble from not shaving, my greasy hair, empty eyes, slack jaw… a dropout, unemployed hikikomori w
ho anyone would avoid, who no one would want to go near… a dirty, disheveled, stinking, nightmarish…

  A lolicon stood there.

  “Ugh.” I weakly slid onto the bathroom floor.

  How could things have come to this?

  What had been done could never be undone. I had … I had collected Lolita images from all over the world. And I hadn’t been satisfied with images alone. I had even gotten involved with video data, in formats like MPEG and RealMovie. My 30GB hard drive was full of the indecent bodies of little girls who, in truth, I pitied.

  I can’t go on. I just can’t go on. A lolicon hikikomori is pretty much the worst thing ever. I’m less than human. I’m a monster. I can’t keep living. I can never walk in the light of day again.

  True, I certainly was a hikikomori. I was fairly certain that I wasn’t a lolicon, though. My tastes were pretty conventional, and I had, in fact, even liked older women. Even so, now…

  “Ahhh … hunh hunh!” Unbearable sobs poured forth, and my tears gushed onto the floor. They were tears of atonement. Yes, I acknowledged my mistakes, and I wanted to reform myself now. I wanted to change. But it was already too late.

  As soon as I had started whispering things to myself like, “Nozomi is beautiful,” I knew I was going to hell. As soon as I had begun to mutter thoughts like, “Kiyomi is amazing. Even for a first-year middle school student, she’s amazing,” to myself, I was ready to fall into hell. As soon as I had begun to opine, “Wow, Russians are hardcore, and Americans do terrible things, also”, grinning to myself, I knew that there was a one hundred percent chance that I was going to hell.

  I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I apologize, I didn’t really want to do it. I didn’t mean any harm. It was just a joke at the start. But now…

  “Argh!” It hurt. I was in pain. My chest hurt. My heart was breaking with guilt. I didn’t want to be a lolicon or anything of the sort. But now, nonetheless, I was a first-rate lolicon hikikomori, the most worthless piece of human garbage who ever lived.