Memorial: The New Hire

——42-OMG Japan Branch, 2007.

A week after the bombing of the office building, Akira was standing in a meeting room within the 42-OMG office. 42-OMG was a world-class video game company that also served as a major investment firm, with stakes in the real estate, medical, and transport industries. To match their international profile, the meeting room was occupied by people of various backgrounds. Each of them shared a dauntless expression, and their styles of dress varied from casual to Lolita. One member even had dreadlocks. No one in Japan would have guessed that this was a company meeting.

“Alright, gang. Meet the newbie,” Aoki said, and the rest of the meeting room shifted their gazes uninterestedly to the man standing beside Aoki. This particular department was staffed with the best of the best, which made them extremely self-centered and prideful. “This is Ono. He’ll be joining the new project as a consultant.” Akira bowed politely, despite the frozen air of the meeting room. It was written all over the faces of the existing members that they expected Akira to quit before they could remember his name. In truth, Aoki’s department was the front lines of the company and had one of the quickest turnarounds. Many employees had quit, unable to bear the workload or the devastatingly high threshold for talent in the department. “Ono’s an ‘honorary team-lead,’ so he’ll be in charge of you guys.” This finally prompted a response from the colorful employees, who all seemed disgusted by the idea of some random guy waltzing in and giving them orders.

“Yo, you’re telling me this chico’s your bastardo, boss?” called the Latin-African-looking man. All of the department members were fluent in most major languages, including Japanese, from working with people from around the world. The room chuckled at the remark.

“Or is he Mikimoto’s?” a white woman with flowing blonde hair chimed in. “I like this company, but I’m not cool with nepotism.” All existing members seemed hell bent on believing that this was all a joke.

“That would have been funny if he was anyway near as good-looking as I am. Come on, introduce yourself, will you?”

Akira took a step forward and gave a smile. Now he had the full attention of the room. “I’ve already installed my game into the computers in front of you. I’ve been tweaking it non-stop for the past 72 hours or so, but it’s far from polished. I want to use this as a springboard to rebuild the world from scratch.” This was more of a work memo than an introduction.

Scowls spread across the room. Most of them viewed the Japanese as humorless and robotic workaholics. Jumping right into work without so much as a ‘nice to meet you’ had only confirmed their views.

“Hey, Akira, was it? What’s—”

“This game is my introduction,” Akira firmly answered. The rest of the room dramatically shrugged, and the few Japanese members chuckled. “You will be killing each other over the next week.” All semblance of jubilance had faded from their faces.

“What the...?!”

“Oof...”

“Ono. Is that your name? What in the world are you talking about?!”

As the meeting room became more cacophonous, Akira walked out without another word. He seemed to believe that playing his game was the quickest way for them to get to know him. Naturally, the rest of the room was not too happy with his attitude.

“Phew... I’d better implement that idea I came up with earlier...” Akira turned his gears in the smoking room of the office, working on a cigarette. Apparently, he was completely uninterested in the commotion in the meeting room.

Aoki joined him, pinching his brow. “You got some character, kid. A few of them are pissed enough to want off the project.”

“Let them. I was going to do it alone in the first place.”

Aoki didn’t argue with that, because he believed that Akira would finish the game on his own, no matter how many years it took. So, he decided to change the subject. “Ever heard of VR...?”

“V... R? What’s that?” Akira asked. Aoki theatrically lit a cigar, and enjoyed it for some time.

“Hey, drop the suspense, will you? Just tell me already,” Akira asked again.

“You’d be waiting for years with that attitude of yours... Hey, kid. What’s the magic word when you’re asking for a favor?”

“Dammit, fine! Oh, please, Director Aoki! Won’t you bestow your infinite wisdom onto old, pea-brained me?!”

“Is that the best you can do? I take it your parents never used the belt...” Still, Aoki began to explain VR technology. It had a surprisingly long history, with its first iteration in the 1960s. After numerous technical innovations, it had reached industries outside of video games by 2007. Street View, for example, had already been implemented in Google Maps. In a gist, it was an imaginary space. Another world that could be experienced through this technology.

Akira leaned forward as Aoki went on. “What’re you saying...? We can make a whole other world and go into it?”

“That’s the nitty and gritty.”

This was years before VR technology became mainstream and used in various video games. 42-OMG, however, had begun developing their own iteration using their state-of-the-art technology, performing various tests on it.

“We’ve been building a medieval European town on the president’s orders. Wanna dive in?”

“Yes! Right now! Like Lupin the Third!”

“H-Hey, hold on! I’m not wasting this cigar. Wait ’til I’m done.”

“Your bandit-looking ass is being cheap about a cigar?!”

“Who’re you calling a bandit?!”

The pair bickered their way out of the smoking room.

The next morning, Akira finally stepped out of the office and into the city lit by the sunrise. Judging from his utter contentment, he seemed to have spent the whole night in virtual reality.

“Another world... It’s amazing! Ha! I can’t stop smiling!”

“A happy Akira? That’s a rare find!”

“Huh?” Akira turned around to see XX, who put their arm on Akira’s shoulder.

“Today was your first day, right? Buy me a drink or something.”

“You idiot. It’s supposed to be the other way around.”

“You gotta subvert expectations, man... I’m short on moola this month, know what I’m saying?”

“Your life’s a moola. When are you gonna get a job?”

XX maintained the usual smile. In fact, they lifted their arm from Akira’s shoulder and hooked it around his. “All right, Akira. I get your drift. You want me to pay you back with my body, is that it, you filthy animal?!”

“Go check yourself into a hospital. One with padded walls.”

“You’re going to force me down and try to breed me, aren’t you?! Well, I’ll never have your children!”

“I’m grabbing a cab.” Akira hailed a taxi, ignoring XX.

“Hey, you can afford a cab but you can’t feed me?!”

“Shut up, already... Get in. Let’s get some Chinese.”

“Hell yeah! I love you Akira! Marry me!”

“Gross... Beef bowls it is.”

“What the eff, man? We’re getting a divorce. Gimme half your money.”

“You little... If I was Buddha, I’d still kick your ass.”

And so, Akira’s future began, brimming with hope. A single leaf floating in the wind had finally landed firmly on the ground. If any historians were to describe this day, they would call it a turning point. This day was when Akira Ono’s glorious legacy, and his subsequent fall from grace, began.