United States of Japan by Peter Tieryas

part of my job to distinguish between a gamer who wants to vent and someone who’s actually planning something.”
    “I’m surprised that a man of your reputation for unquestioning loyalty would not see that all action is rooted in seditious thoughts. An old American religion used to have the saying, ‘if your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off’.”
    Ben did his best to hide his frustration at his nervous responses. “Would you like some tea?” he asked, as they entered his office. “I have some da hong pao I specially imported from Mount Wuyi. It cost a fortune, but it was worth it as it’s the best tea I’ve ever had.” His office was on the corner, glass walls giving him an unhindered view of the ocean. Ukiyo-e inspired posters of the various games he’d worked on hung on the walls. His desk was made of mahogany with kanji about the history of Taiyo Tech written into them.
    She slipped out a silver gun from her coat. A glass capsule filled with a green liquid jutted out the back of the handle. “Have you seen one of these before?”
    “No,” Ben confessed.
    “It’s a viral gun that rewrites the history of your blood. If I shot you with this, in five minutes you wouldn’t be recognizable.”
    “That doesn’t sound very fun.”
    “Not one bit,” she replied. “Our scientists in the Eastern Coprosperity Sphere developed this.”
    “For Vietnam?” Ben asked, glancing over at the encased ceremonial swords he’d been given as an officer, trying to ignore the gun she was holding.
    She nodded. “Why do people resist when the outcome is futile?” she asked.
    “Because they’re insane,” he replied.
    “So says the man who reported his own parents when they tried to commit treason against the Empire.”
    Ben’s eyes drifted for a second and he tried not to sound too rote as he replied, “I am loyal to the Emperor and no one else. Anyone who defies the Emperor is insane.”
    “What do you know about General Mutsuraga’s last few years?”
    “Not much. He’s had it rough since his wife’s passing.”
    “We’ve been tracking him for some time now.”
    “Why? I thought he was retired,” Ben said.
    “He has a connection to a game we’ve been investigating.”
    “What game?”
    “What do you know about what’s left of the Americans?” Akiko asked.
    “There’s Colorado, but that’s a wasteland. The whole Rocky Mountains are where the remains of American society are hiding. I’ve heard they have underground cities and the people there kill each other over nothing. I’ve actually seen parents here tell their children they’ll abandon them to the American monsters if they don’t obey.”
    “It’s a hive of dissension,” she confirmed. “If the Germans hadn’t asked for a moratorium on atomics, we’d have blasted it long ago.”
    “Does Mutsuraga have a connection to Colorado?”
    “Not Colorado. San Diego. A group you’re familiar with.”
    “The George Washingtons,” Ben said, and felt the hair on his arms bristle.
    “You fought against them.”
    “Ten years ago.”
    “One of our few conflicts to end in stalemate. Essentially a defeat because the GWs were able to get hold of atomics,” Akiko said.
    “That was a bloody war. A lot of good officers died.”
    “You survived.”
    “I was a glorified clerk. Barely did any of the fighting.”
    “Things haven’t changed much for you, have they?”
    He ignored her taunt and said, “Mutsuraga hated the GWs. There’s no way there could be any connection between them.”
    “Never underestimate insanity. Mutsuraga has helped distribute a seditious game to the citizens of the USJ that I believe was developed in San Diego with what’s left of their pitiful resistance. Unfortunately, the game has become quite popular throughout the USJ and is even said to be regularly played in Colorado.”
    “What game?” he asked, even though he knew it was never good to overtly show interest in non-Japanese products.
    “It’s called