The Study: Questions Arise

It was around ten when I finally woke up. The Kagoshima sun had been streaming through the blinds for some time now and heated the tatami mat I used as a bed. The smell of warm bamboo and crisp cotton pillowcases intensified as the temperature rose inside our small room. I stretched my arms above my head locking my fingers tighter with each crack. I straightened out my legs, extending them to the point right before it hurt my lower back and thenbrought them back towards my hips again. I adjusted myself and expected to feel Maki near me, but didn't. I sat up, and pushed the crumbs from a late night potato chip rampage off my chest and saw her sitting in the corner near the door. She had pulled the small table, that held our loose change and food wrappers, near her and used it as an armrest. She sipped her green tea and wrote swiftly in her notebook. The sun rose towards her hair and illuminated strips of brown and red, colors I had never noticed before. "Hey, good morning. How long have you been up for?" She didn't respond. "Heeellllooo..." "Robbie! Hold on. I don't want to forget this." She kept her head down as she spoke and continued to write. "Sorry sorry, can you pour me some tea?" I knew she wouldn't answer and I had already begun to walk towards my cup while asking. It was something I did when I felt embarrassed, I made an even bigger fool of myself. "What are you writing about anyways?" I really was curious. Usually she saved her lengthy entries until the evening when she could sit down and go through what we had seen during the day. "I'm writing about you Robbie, I'm marking down observations I have made of you awake and in slumber." I was confused. I felt like I had found old love notes of an ex or something. It was that feeling of shock, and betrayal and I wanted to tell her to stop, but I didn't know why. "Why" I asked. "Why? What do you mean why? Haven't you been making notes on me as well? You don't mean to tell me that out of all this time spent studying other people, it never dawned on you to observe your neighbor? You've only taken notes on the strangers we watch from a distance? Haha oh Robbie, I forgot that all this is new to you." I smiled, but only to cover my embarrassment. "Maki, come on, you know me better than that! I keep myself up at night with millions of thoughts and I'd say at least half of them are about you. I mean, come on, of course I've taken notes on you." I hadn't, and to add insult to injury, I hadn't even thought of it. It had never crossed my mind to observe Maki the way I observe the world. It made me feel vulnerable, self-conscious, knowing that throughout this trip, maybe even throughout our friendship, Maki had been making note of every little curious reaction I've had to the weather or new foods or the way the metro's stop for an hour or more with no announcement as to why, and now I'm sure she is taking note of my facial expressions, my inability to hide my shame and the way I bite the inside corner of my bottom lip when I'm having conversations with myself. I felt violated, like I was being dissected and whether justified or not, I was angry.

* * *

I would never vote for one of these creatures. I call them creature because they simply react to commands. If we cheer they feel righteous and continue on the righteous path, if we boo they cower, hide from the cameras and come back to us with their tails between their legs. These are not leaders, these are dogs, these are tick-infested bitches that should be bundled up and thrown in a lake.

The bright lights of Akihabara buzzed loud and the speakers buzzed louder. I had been watching this smut be pedaled for 3 days now. Following this campaign of deceit from one stop to the next and each time, in each city the message was the same. The Prime Minister, Yamada Tarō, and his Kantei paraded the compact streets in swarms of black cars and black suits, so far removed from any tradition this country may have handed over to them at birth. This was the reactionary animal, this was the copycat. Walking in V formations, splitting the crowds on their way to the stage, striking fear into the hearts of the children who couldn't differentiate their leaders from the Yakuza if their life depended on it, which unbeknownst to them, it did. I had my sunglasses on and I stood relaxed, supported by the masses of people around me raising their hands and waving ecstatically for this man that has become their conservative idol. I closed my eyes to search for a moment of peace and swayed back and forth with the gesticulation of the heavenly body as they gave praise to their chosen leader almighty. I didn't need to open my eyes to know that Yamada Tarō and his Kantei were smiling, I had seen it before, not only here in the land of the rising sun, but in many other parts of the world as well. These leaders feel as if the voters have baptized them, forgiven them for their sins, inducted them into sainthood. These people are talking heads, they are nothing more than an organ filled teleprompter, devoid of individual emotion, self-awareness, consequence, regret, shame, devoid of anything living beyond the beat of their heart. These people have always been the weak willed, they have always been the ones to fall victim to adolescent peer pressure bullshit, to snort coke because they think it makes them deep, to be snide because they think it makes them smart, to be the first to judge others, but never call bullshit on themselves. These people are a special breed; they live in their own reality, their own vanity, and reaction is not based on the soul, it is simply an empty act propagated by their saviors, the voters praises or punishment. Power and wealth corrupt, this is nothing new, in fact it is the oldest known equation in the political realm. Power and wealth have laid the tracks for our world leaders since day one and with every new car added to the line, the velocity of evil becomes harder and harder to stop. I was done with the marionette cycle. The leaders would pull, the people would react, the people would pull, the leaders would react. These are the types of thoughts that have brought on my sleepless nights, but it isn’t the substance, I became immune to that long ago, it is my reaction to this substance, my desire to change things at any cost. Tarō wasn't the worst, but at this point in history he'd be the most noticed, he'd raise the most questions, and that’s exactly what I wanted, people to start asking questions.

I made my way to the outskirts of the event. I had been here the day prior studying the layout, learning the position I would need to be in to pull this off. I walked to my first mark. From here I had a clear view of Tarō. Two of his Kantei members and two of his guards stood around him like pillars leaving just enough space for me to work with. I walked to my second mark. From here I could see the cameras for Japan's Nyūsu Nettowāku, as well as many American, British and Australian media outlets. I was familiar with their shot set-ups; Tarō would be in the background, while the busty reporter would be filling the foreground with queerly white teeth and cleavage. There'd be little room in the frame for anything other than the main attractions, the planned ones at least. Confident I had taken note of all camera's media and security alike, I made my way to the last mark before escape. Tarō stepped forward towards the lectern. I saw my reflection in the back of his polished shoes. He gripped the sides of the podium with great vigor and his knuckles pulsated with color as he failed to convince his weak will that he wasn't just a talking head. He knew who he was, he knew what was coming. Tarō began to speak, but before finishing his first word the crowd erupted in cheer, prompting him to bow his head as a sign of graciousness. He started again. I let him finish his first word, and his second, but by the third I grew impatient. It was time to end this; it was time to ensue panic, to create change, to raise questions. I flipped the safety to the side and killed three people in the audience, two men and one lady. They died with smiles on their faces.