Tatsuhiko Takimoto - Welcome to the NHK!

Wow! The voice output was perfect, too. The joints moved smoothly, legs extending flexibly from its skirt. Japan's technical skill truly is the best in the world, isn’t it?

“Seeing as you’re a hikikomori, did you get scared of working in the outside world and reconsider halfway through your application?” She drove right to the heart of the matter—in the end, though, they were just a robot’s words. No matter what a machine might say, no one would get that angry.

The robot continued to say even more mysterious things. “Don’t worry. I know how to escape from being a hikikomori.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I finally reacted to her words.

“Satou, right? Well, you’re really a hikikomori, aren’t you?”

Instead of immediately answering her question, I pointed at the sign hanging over the park entrance. It warned, “Beware of perverts! Young girls have been continually targeted”, in caustic red paint.

I said, “Are you sure it’s all right to meet a shady person like me at this time of night? I could be dangerous.”

“It’s okay. My house is right over there, so I know all kinds of things. For instance, you’re always spacing out in this park on Sunday nights, right? I saw you from my window.”

Having come this far, I was pretty anxious about all this. I couldn’t figure out what she wanted. Her real motives remained a mystery, and nothing seemed normal. Could it be some sort of roundabout religious solicitation?

“No, it’s not. I’m just going along to help Auntie Kazuko.”

“Huh?”

“Because I’m always troubling her, I figured it’s the least I could do to repay her.”

I didn’t understand what she was talking about, but she continued our awkward conversation as we both stared at the streetlamps. “Anyway, none of that matters. Satou, don’t you want to know? About how to escape from being a hikikomori?”

“Don’t call me Satou. I'm older than you.”

“You know my age?”

“Well, you look about seventeen, maybe eighteen.”

“You’re absolutely right!”

Gathering momentum from the swing, she leapt off lightly. The display of energy seemed intentional. It might have been my imagination, though. After she landed, she came over to where I sat on the bench and looked straight at me. Crouching, her hands resting on her knees, she said, “You want to know how to escape, right? I’ll teach you.”

Once again, the same unnecessarily cute smile that I’d seen before floated across her face. I was unable to think of her as a successor to the ASIMO model any longer. Looking away, I whispered, “I’m not a hikikomori.”

“Liar. How can you say that even though you completely gave it away when Auntie tried talking to you the other day? Even though you ran away when you realized it was me at the manga cafe? Normal people don’t do stuff like that.”

“Hey!” I sputtered.

“You’re scared, right? Of other people?”

As I lifted my head, our eyes met. She had big eyes, with large pupils. Gazing into those eyes, I was at a loss for words.

In the end, without saying anything, I looked away again.

Suddenly, I realized that somewhere along the way, the wind had started blowing harder. Over our heads, the branches of the trees were stirring. It was a chilly night.

I decided to go back to my apartment. Standing, I turned my back on her. From behind me, she tried to stop me. “Wait!” she called, “You’ll regret this.”

“What are you talking about? For starters, who are you, anyway?”

“I’m a kind girl who helps worthless hikikomori.”

“And what’s this ‘project’ that you mentioned in your letter?”

“At the current juncture, details of the project are top secret. However, you can rest assured that I won’t do anything bad.”

I started feeling sick, so I decided to tell a suitable lie and just get away from that place. “I’m not just any regular hikikomori, you know. It’s true that I shut myself away, but it’s for my job. I have to.”

“What's your job?”

“S-SOHO…”

“What’s that?”

“It’s short for ‘ so meone who works from ho me’. I work from my apartment… or rather, my home office. I’m not a deadbeat. Although I’m definitely a shut in, it’s part of my job description, and I can’t do anything about that! Trying to get a part-time job was just a momentary miscalculation on my part….”

“Huh. Really? What kind of work do you do?”

“D-don’t be surprised when you hear this. I’m a creator!” That’s right, I thought, marvel at my job title! “Because I do creative work, I may act a bit psychologically unusual, but that only proves my incredible talent! I'm not just some good-for-nothing, jobless guy!”

Misaki grinned and casually asked, “What are you creating?”

“That is … you know, what do you call it, the latest, revolutionary information technology. I can’t really explain it in one word …”

“Well, let me know when you’ve finished what you’re currently working on, okay?”

“N-no, I can’t do that. It’s privileged information that I can’t divulge. Not to mention that we have tons of money invested in this project, so I can’t just give it away so easily …” Just as I had begun to wish for death due to the thorough stupidity of the lines I was giving her, Misaki turned away.

“It was a waste, huh? I did offer to show you how to escape, after all.” She really seemed to think this lost opportunity was unfortunate. In a low whisper, she said, “Even though you’ll never have this chance again …”

Only her outline was faintly visible against the backlighting provided by the streetlamps.

I was a little … no, fairly excited.

My bad habit prompted me to keep gushing. “It seems you doubt what I’m saying; I am actually a really amazing creator, though. A young girl like you probably wouldn’t be aware of this, but I’m sort of well known within the industry. Yeah, when I see you next time, I’ll tell you all about it. About my work. You’ll be really surprised! You’ll respect me!”

Why did I say, “When I see you next time”? What did I mean by “my work”? Why did I always broadcast these lies, all of which easily could be disproved? I could just be honest and say, “I’m a jobless hikikomori!” Why was I indulging in this strange pride over such weird things?

Whatever. It didn't matter. I should just run. I should just get out of there fast before I dug myself in any deeper. “W-well then, see you!”

Uncertainly, I headed toward the park exit. Behind me, she might have muttered something, but I couldn’t hear the words.

Back at my apartment building, I interrogated my neighbor. “Yamazaki, how can one become a creator?”

“Huh? What’s this, all of a sudden?”

“I have to become a creator right away. You’re a student at the Yoyogi Animation Institute, aren’t you? Don’t you know a lot about that kind of stuff?”

“No. Well, I guess I do. Are you serious?”

“I’m serious. I’m completely serious. Anything will do. Just tell me how I can become a creator right away! Please?”

“I’m hanging up. Come over.”

The shock of the situation had been enough to force me into calling my next door neighbor. It was the first phone call I’d made in months.

“When I see you next time, I’ll tell you all about my work.” Only a few minutes earlier, I actually had said this. I had inflated my chest with pride and preposterously said this aloud. When I see you next…

I suspected that this would not be far in the future. Misaki seemed to live nearby. I might even run across her in town, completely by chance. By that time, I had to change my huge, incredibly stupid lie into reality. I needed to become a true creator. What was a creator, anyway? What is it?