I left the phone at the office. But you know, I think she just calls herself Mika.”
Kenji hit the return key. In a few moments, a single line of text appeared in the left window.
YOUR SEARCH RETURNED TOO MANY RESULTS
“Hey, that’s unusual for a middle school. Okay, let me explain what’s going on here. Sites like this are part of the deep web. Some people call it the deep net. Deep net sites aren’t indexed by search engines. Officially, this site has nothing to do with Aoba Middle School. You can’t get on a forum like this without special software and an access code. Kids can talk about whatever’s on their minds without worrying about teachers or the school looking over their shoulder.”
Kotaro and Kenji had joined Kumar at the same time, but Kenji already sounded like a veteran.
“Aoba Middle School’s dark social site is pretty hot right now. High school kids are way more likely to have smartphones and PCs than middle-schoolers, but I still got so many hits off the search terms that our software couldn’t display them. It’s like there are ten freshmen named Mika and they’re all using the site to spend tons of time chatting with their friends.”
“Are things out of control?”
Kenji took a sip of coffee. “I wouldn’t say that. They’re just hot. I can think of two reasons. One is, whatever’s going on, there are a lot of people participating. The other is that a small number of students are spending all their time posting about something, whatever it is. Well then,” Kenji steepled his fingers. “Let’s narrow it down. Is Mika in any clubs?”
Kotaro nodded. “She’s on the soft tennis team.” He was about to say more, but stopped. Kenji raised an eyebrow.
“I don’t know who would want to bully her,” Kotaro continued, “but I can think of one thing people might be calling her.”
“And that would be?”
“Aborigine.”
Kenji looked at him with blank incomprehension.
“I know it sounds stupid, but it’s true.” Kotaro gave a pained chuckle. “You said the neighborhood had a pretty name. It is pretty, but it’s artificial too. The next block of houses over is called ‘Dappled Sunshine Town.’ ”
Kenji didn’t laugh.
“See, the whole area used to be farmland and scattered patches of woods. A developer came in and kind of conjured up the town whole. It’s only been there since around the time I was born.
“My father’s from Himeji, but my mother grew up near where we live. Her parents were farmers. They grew tomatoes and other stuff in big greenhouses. My mother was an only child and she wasn’t interested in taking over the business. Her father died kind of young, so the family got out of farming. I don’t have any memories of this, but I heard a lot about it. A lot of farms in Ikuno closed down the same way.”
“The farms go away, and developers turn the land into tract housing.”
“Right. So, the thing is—” Kotaro had never spoken to anyone outside his immediate friends and family about this—“there are basically two types of people living in Cherry Town and Dappled Sunshine Town and the other tracts in Ikuno: people who’ve lived there for generations—they almost all used to be farmers—and people who moved from somewhere else after the houses were built.”
Kenji nodded thoughtfully.
“The first group, the people from Ikuno, got a special deal, like low-interest loans or subsidies from the city. Some of them traded land for a house of equal value.”
“Interesting.”
“People who moved in from outside didn’t get that. My neighborhood—it’s kind of embarrassing to say this—it has this image as sort of an upscale district.”
“I had that impression. Just now I thought, ‘This guy seems like he’s from a good background.’ ” Kenji’s tone didn’t betray a hint of irony.
“The subway to Shibuya opened four years ago. That raised property prices. So there’s this image that a lot of rich people live there. It’s
Kenji hit the return key. In a few moments, a single line of text appeared in the left window.
YOUR SEARCH RETURNED TOO MANY RESULTS
“Hey, that’s unusual for a middle school. Okay, let me explain what’s going on here. Sites like this are part of the deep web. Some people call it the deep net. Deep net sites aren’t indexed by search engines. Officially, this site has nothing to do with Aoba Middle School. You can’t get on a forum like this without special software and an access code. Kids can talk about whatever’s on their minds without worrying about teachers or the school looking over their shoulder.”
Kotaro and Kenji had joined Kumar at the same time, but Kenji already sounded like a veteran.
“Aoba Middle School’s dark social site is pretty hot right now. High school kids are way more likely to have smartphones and PCs than middle-schoolers, but I still got so many hits off the search terms that our software couldn’t display them. It’s like there are ten freshmen named Mika and they’re all using the site to spend tons of time chatting with their friends.”
“Are things out of control?”
Kenji took a sip of coffee. “I wouldn’t say that. They’re just hot. I can think of two reasons. One is, whatever’s going on, there are a lot of people participating. The other is that a small number of students are spending all their time posting about something, whatever it is. Well then,” Kenji steepled his fingers. “Let’s narrow it down. Is Mika in any clubs?”
Kotaro nodded. “She’s on the soft tennis team.” He was about to say more, but stopped. Kenji raised an eyebrow.
“I don’t know who would want to bully her,” Kotaro continued, “but I can think of one thing people might be calling her.”
“And that would be?”
“Aborigine.”
Kenji looked at him with blank incomprehension.
“I know it sounds stupid, but it’s true.” Kotaro gave a pained chuckle. “You said the neighborhood had a pretty name. It is pretty, but it’s artificial too. The next block of houses over is called ‘Dappled Sunshine Town.’ ”
Kenji didn’t laugh.
“See, the whole area used to be farmland and scattered patches of woods. A developer came in and kind of conjured up the town whole. It’s only been there since around the time I was born.
“My father’s from Himeji, but my mother grew up near where we live. Her parents were farmers. They grew tomatoes and other stuff in big greenhouses. My mother was an only child and she wasn’t interested in taking over the business. Her father died kind of young, so the family got out of farming. I don’t have any memories of this, but I heard a lot about it. A lot of farms in Ikuno closed down the same way.”
“The farms go away, and developers turn the land into tract housing.”
“Right. So, the thing is—” Kotaro had never spoken to anyone outside his immediate friends and family about this—“there are basically two types of people living in Cherry Town and Dappled Sunshine Town and the other tracts in Ikuno: people who’ve lived there for generations—they almost all used to be farmers—and people who moved from somewhere else after the houses were built.”
Kenji nodded thoughtfully.
“The first group, the people from Ikuno, got a special deal, like low-interest loans or subsidies from the city. Some of them traded land for a house of equal value.”
“Interesting.”
“People who moved in from outside didn’t get that. My neighborhood—it’s kind of embarrassing to say this—it has this image as sort of an upscale district.”
“I had that impression. Just now I thought, ‘This guy seems like he’s from a good background.’ ” Kenji’s tone didn’t betray a hint of irony.
“The subway to Shibuya opened four years ago. That raised property prices. So there’s this image that a lot of rich people live there. It’s
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