A Day in the Life of · Prologue 1 “Right, let’s do this.” Sitting upright in front of a backpack that was fuller than normal, Michi made up her mind. It was Saturday, July

A Day in the Life of

Michi, Mid-2037

Publishing Details

A Day in the Life of Michi, Mid-2037

1st Edition: February 1, 2017

Creator: Fujitsu SF Project Team, Mr. Biki Segawa

Publisher: Technical Computing Solutions Unit, Fujitsu Limited

Acknowledgements

Fujitsu SF Project

This science fiction (SF) novel was created from the Fujitsu SF Project, which was sponsored in fiscal

year 2016 by the Technical Computing Solutions Unit of Fujitsu Limited. The novel focuses on daily

life in the future and is based on the themes of “mid-2037” and “neighborhood”. We wish to

acknowledge the cooperation of Future Sessions Inc., the author Mr. Biki Segawa, the citizens of

Sumida Ward, Tokyo, and others in contributing to the success of this project.

This content is published under a Creative Commons, Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/deed.en)

Prologue 1

“Right, let’s do this.” Sitting upright in front of a backpack that was fuller than normal, Michi made up her mind. It was Saturday, July 1, and 2017 was already half over. Final exams were starting next Monday. As a second year high school student with only one more year to go, that meant university entrance exams were now much closer, and the atmosphere at school had become more serious and rushed. Noticing Michi was dressed in school uniform, her father called out. “What? School on a Saturday? It’s a hard life being a high school student.” “Our finals are next week, so I’m going to study with friends.” “Hmm,” he mumbled, turning on the TV and sitting down on the sofa. Michi’s mother also appeared and gave a warning; “Make sure you study hard, OK? Don’t just go there and waste time!” “See ya!” And with that, Michi was out the door. Just before it closed though, she stopped and gazed at her mom and dad in profile.

“Mom, Dad, I might be away for a while, but don’t worry about me.” But these thoughts were never spoken, and Michi started walking. But where to? Instead of books, her backpack contained clothes for three days or so and a small amount of money. “Hmmm, I suppose this is running away from home . . . for a little while." Before heading to the station, she dropped by Tamako’s place. She took a diary from her backpack and slid it into Tamako’s mailbox. Michi and Tamako had been taking turns writing in an old-fashioned diary since they started high school together. The diary was the only place where Michi was able to write her true thoughts. Tamako might not have been fully aware, but she was Michi’s only friend who would accept her as she was. The previous night, Michi had made an entry on the last page. “I’m just going on a short trip. Don’t worry about me. And don’t tell my parents.”

With nowhere in particular to go, Michi decided to head to the observation deck of Tokyo Skytree, the world’s highest stand-alone communication tower, to look out over Tokyo. It didn’t give her any ideas though. Finally she left and starting walking again. Entering Mukojima, in Tokyo’s traditional Sumida district, she was struck by how strange everything looked. She wandered through a maze of streets too narrow for cars. Coming from a new housing development herself, Michi noticed the enormous difference with the houses around her. Perhaps because of the narrow streets, there were three-storey homes everywhere but not a single tall building in sight. After a while, Michi came across a small park. She was starting to feel hungry, so she sat down on a bench and ate a sandwich she had bought at a convenience store. Suddenly from behind her came a voice. “Hello, little miss! So you’ve come to visit the Hyakkaen Garden?”

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Turning her head in surprise, Michi mumbled with a mouth full of sandwich, “What?” A distinguished-looking man was standing behind her with a smile on his face and grey hair tied back in a knot. “Never heard of this place? This is the famous Mukojima-Hyakkaen Garden. This small park used to be part of the garden, but the entrance is over there.” Looking to where the old man was pointing, Michi saw a stylish wooden plaque engraved with the words Hyakkaen Garden. “Well, not really . . .” At a loss for what else to say, and not wanting to tell this stranger she was running away from home, Michi sat in silence. “You know, my family has lived here for generations. We’ve had a lot to do with Hyakkaen Garden over the years. I’ve nothing else to do, so I could show you around if you like.” She should have been wary of this old man but he had such gentleness about him that she allowed herself to accept his invitation. “Right. Let’s go then.” And with those words he set off at a brisk pace towards the gates. With a quick greeting to the person at the ticket box, the old man passed through the gates. Michi followed him through. Everything was so green! This was an unexpected oasis in the middle of a chaotic and mysterious neighborhood. Through a ring of trees that almost enclosed the garden, Michi could see a few tall buildings and a little further behind them Tokyo Skytree, confirming that she was in fact still in Tokyo. “When this garden was built in the early 19th century, it mostly contained Japanese plum trees. After a while though, people became bored so it was planted out with a whole range of trees and flowers to become what you see here today.” Looking about her, Michi saw many different trees and flowers that she could not name. “In addition to the vegetation, they gradually added stone monuments as well. There are still about 30 of them here. It became a place of relaxation for the

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refined townsfolk as well, so I suspect that many of them were placed here without formal permission.” Many of the monuments were engraved with various quotes and poems, but there was still space here and there for new monuments, if someone wanted to bring one. “So people just brought these monuments here without asking?”, enquired Michi. “Yes, that’s right.” Being such a small garden, Michi and her guide were back at the entrance after a short 15-minute stroll. “Thank you.” Michi had an urge to get away from this place quickly and be alone again. But then… She looked past this smiling man to the scene behind him. “What’s going on?” she wondered. “Was that monument there before?” As if drawn back in, Michi slipped past the man to the place where they had started their walk. She was now starting to feel a little dizzy. As Michi neared the first monument, she noticed more of them lining both sides of the path and was certain that they had not been there before. “What is going on here?” Michi started to do another circuit of the garden on the same path. “Wait! If you go around again in the same clockwise direction . . .” The old man was calling out to her but his voice trailed off as she walked. Counting to herself in a daze, she continued on her way. “I thought so. There are 45 of them now.” Back at the entrance, she noticed the old man had gone. In fact, she thought, something else had changed. There was something about the ticket box that felt strange as well.


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It was when she returned to the little park where she ate her sandwich earlier that she was sure of it. Her bench had been replaced by something completely different, a yellow plastic thing. “I’m certain that was an old wooden bench before . . .” Sitting on the bench, Michi looked around. She couldn’t remember how the houses around the park had looked before, but she was growing more certain by the minute that they looked different as well. She grabbed her smartphone from her backpack, but there was no signal. Wondering what had happened, she sat down in a daze. “Michi!” Suddenly standing before her was a familiar face looking down at her through glasses. “Tamako?” “Thank God it’s you, Michi.” Jumping up and down with happiness, Tamako rushed to Michi and hugged her. “How did you find me here, Tamako?” Sitting beside her and answering without really answering; “I just knew.” “You wrote “I’m just going on a short trip” in the diary and then you disappeared. Do you have any idea how worried we all were?” “Mmm, sorry. But it’s only been half a day . . . Such a short time that you could say I haven't really run away at all," replied Michi, looking up at the sky, perplexed. “What are you talking about? It’s been 20 long years since you disappeared.” Puffing out her cheeks in anger, Tamako looked into Michi’s eyes. “Wha . . .?” "Twenty years to the day. Today’s the first of July, 2037.”

Prologue 1

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Prologue 2

“2037? What do you mean?” “What have you been doing Michi? You still look like that high school girl from 20 years ago.” “What do you mean, 2037? I don’t believe you.” “That’s right, 2037. Umm, so how can I prove it?” Mumbling these words to herself, a floating screen suddenly appeared before Tamako with a calendar showing the words “Wednesday, July 1, 2037.” “Tamako, what’s that?” “Oh, of course! When you disappeared, smartphones were everywhere, weren’t they? We don’t have to bother about carrying around our own phones these days. The ‘neighborhood’ itself understands our conversations and gestures, so wherever we are these screens pop up with information whenever we need it. Some fanatics still flash around those old retro-style ones though. The last of the smartphones.” Glancing upward, Michi noticed lots of things flying by.

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“Oh, that? You see that a lot in 2037, as well. They’re passenger drones. I suppose they’re like personal air transportation devices.” “Oh . . .” Michi caught sight of Tokyo Skytree again but it was twice as tall now. And there were two of them. “Yes, they built the second one two years ago. The narrow tube you can see at the top is the space elevator. It goes right up to where the satellites are. It’s a popular tourist attraction now.” Still confused, Michi had no choice but to believe her friend. “It’s really 2037, isn’t it?” “Of course. So just believe me! Anyway, there might not be enough time, so let’s go.” Taking her hand, Tamako pulled Michi along behind her. “Somehow or other, you’re here in 2037. It looks like you don’t know how either, but maybe you’ll disappear again and go back to 2017. So at least while you’re here, I’ll show you around.” At the same time, Tamako was taking something out of her own backpack. It was the diary. “I want to show you how things turned out. The things you wrote in the diary. Hurry.” Still holding her hand, Michi picked up her pace to match Tamako’s. “What do you mean, the things I wrote?” “You know, that stuff you were always writing about – complaints, concerns, your disillusionment. ‘ Forget this world,’ ‘ forget mankind,’ ‘ forget the future.’ Forget this, forget that, and on, and on. You were always complaining. So I want to show you this new world.” Michi did remember scribbling all sorts of things in their diary. Thoughts she would never have spoken out loud to anyone else. She had been a bookworm

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from elementary school, and was well-read, even in history and philosophy. But she found it difficult to have a conversation with classmates who read trivial things like entertainment gossip. Before long, she became disillusioned with school, with the world, and with her own future. That was when she decided to run away from home for a little while. “What do you want to show me?” “You’ll see.” Michi calmed down a little while walking, but her unease was replaced with lots of questions. “But you’re here, too. How did you get here? You still look like a high school student, as well. Did you follow me into Hyakkaen Garden?” “That’s a story for later, but first . . .”


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Stella, Ukiyo-e Artist:

“Forget this country!

It’s full of Japanese people

who have lost their unique ways!”

Michi and Tamako were walking quite quickly now. Passing the diary over, Tamako exclaimed, “Michi, page 52!” “52? You want me to read it?” “ First, let’s go and see Stella. She lives close by.” Michi couldn’t walk and read at the same time, so she stopped and opened the diary. She read her own words:

I love history and tradition; Japan’s and the world’s. Reading history books always makes me envious of Japanese people who lived long ago. Those good old Japanese people have almost become extinct. At least, there are none anywhere around here. And many other things are disappearing, too. On TV yesterday, they said that nobody is carrying on traditional crafts in Japan anymore. But they're not being replaced by a lot of foreign culture and people either. Forget Japan! We can’t maintain these traditions, but we can’t change, either.

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“I forgot I wrote this.” As a student, Michi had few opportunities for contact with Japanese traditions, or for contact with foreigners. Suddenly looking up, Michi noticed a lot of foreign-looking people walking around the streets. There were also people who appeared to be Japanese but they were speaking foreign languages. “Umm, there are a lot of foreigners around. Are they tourists?” Walking again, the pair weaved their way through the crowds of foreigners. “I think most of these people would be working or studying here.” “That person we’re going to see? Is she a foreigner?” “Stella? No, she's an old Japanese woman. Her surname’s Sutera, but we just call her Stella. This is it.” They were standing in front of a small building with a plaque out front proclaiming ‘Ukiyo-e Studio,’ an artist’s workshop producing traditional Japanese woodblock prints. “Hello Stella!” In answer to Tamako’s call, a woman dressed in samue-like clothes, the traditional working clothes of Buddhist monks, looked over at them. She was talking with a tall blue-eyed man. “Tama, how are you? Was there something . . .?” “I just wanted to show my friend your studio.” “I’m very busy today, so I won’t be able to accompany you, but please go ahead.” And with that, Stella returned to the lively conversation she was having with the foreign-looking person. Even though she was speaking Japanese, the other person seemed to be speaking Italian. “Wow! So Stella can speak Italian, too?” Smiling, Tamako replied, “Yes, yes. That’s something else we have in 2037.

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They have these little simultaneous interpreting devices in their ears. They don’t hear the other language at all, so having conversations is now a bit like watching a dubbed movie.” An Asian-looking woman joined Stella's conversation and even though she was speaking Chinese, or something, the conversation just continued on. Beside them, an African-looking person was focusing intently on carving a wooden block. “See that guy? He hasn't been here for long so he’s using an ultrasonic engraving tool to carve his ukiyo-e woodblocks. Stella told me he still needs a few more days before he can carve with his own hands. In traditional workshops like this, they say that an amateur can’t beat a machine, but a machine can’t beat a master.” “Wow . . .” was all Michi could say in reply. From the back of the room came a blond woman with an ukiyo-e picture on a large piece of paper. Placing it on a device near the entrance, the numbers 58.24 appeared on the display. She looked a little disappointed and returned to the back of the workshop. “That machine’s an Ukiyo-e Evaluator. It measures picture quality and gives them a score out of 100. Apparently beginners hardly ever get even 50 points.” “What? That?” Michi didn’t really understand. There was another Indian-looking person flapping around his picture with a big smile on his face. Interrupting Stella’s conversation, he cried, “Stella, I did it! What do you think?” “That’s great! I like the way you’ve based it on the Madhubani painting style from Bihar in India. I think you’ll reach your target of 80 points with that.” “That’s what I thought, too.” Placing his picture on the Ukiyo-e Evaluator, he was rewarded with a score of 81.57. “Oh, that's an even better ukiyo-e than I thought. Not bad!” she said, patting

Stella, Ukiyo-e Artist

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him on the back. Tamako spoke directly to Michi. “That evaluator is not just a machine. It apparently learned its critical thinking directly from Stella's father, and her grandfather before him. It’s apparently much more accurate than any of the experts around here," she said with a sense of pride. “Tama, I want to show you my new work.” Stella asked the Italian man to bring over a large sculpture about the size of a person. Tamako squealed with delight. “Wow, a 3-D ukiyo-e!” Stella had been trying to perfect a 3-D version of what had always strictly been a 2-D art form. “No matter what angle I place the ukiyo-e at, the evaluator always scores it over 90 points. What do you think of that?” said Stella with pride. Michi felt that this new world enabled people from all countries to bring their own cultures and both improve and pass on Japanese traditional culture, to create new forms of artistic expression. All of a sudden, the Ukiyo-e Evaluator turned itself on. Stella had been standing near the machine at the time, so it evaluated her face. 98.14 points. Looking at the score, Stella gave the evaluator a whack. “Stupid thing. Some people do say I look a lot like the mountain witch in Kitagawa Utamaro’s famous Yamanba and Kintaro series of ukiyo-e woodblock prints. Humph!”


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Sakura,

High School Student on Sabbatical:

“Forget working to live,

or studying to live!”

Michi was thinking she might try to create an ukiyo-e, herself, when Tamako interrupted with the words, "Let’s go! No time to spare, maybe . . .” “Let’s go to Sakura’s place next. Michi, page 71!” Again, Michi read from their diary:

It’s obvious why we go to school and study. Everyone wants to go to a good university and get a job at a good company. But why do we want to join a good company? Is it for the money? Are we giving up parts of our lives in exchange for money? Forget just working to live, or studying to live!

Michi still attended school, but what she wrote here was a large part of why she was only half-hearted about studying. “Tama!” A tall man was calling out to Tamako. “Tetsuo, it’s been a while. So you’re back in Mukojima?”

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“That's right. It's been about two years. I’ve been volunteering here and there and the time has flown. So, who’s she?” “That’s Michi. I’d like to hear more but we’re in a hurry. See you later.” “You haven’t changed at all! But until we meet again, I’ll leave you with a gift.” And with that, some flying object appeared and passed a backpack to Tetsuo. This might have been normal for Tetsuo and Tamako, but everything came as a complete surprise to Michi. “Here you are,” said Tetsuo, pulling a small wooden box from the backpack. “It’s a jewelry box from Togo, in West Africa. The legend says that if you put something important in the box, you’ll always be happy. They were originally only passed down to family members. About six months ago though, I was volunteering to help design a system of water channels and one of the locals gave it to me. He seemed really grateful for my help. Your mom likes to collect jewelry boxes, doesn’t she? You can give it to her, because it’s of no use to me . . .” Tamako replied, “Thanks Tetsuo. It’s beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like it. Mom will be ecstatic. I suppose you got a lot of VPs then, as well?” “Maybe. I forgot about that. I’ll check my VP account later to see if it has increased.” Michi had no idea what they were talking about and what ‘VP’ meant, and it seemed that Tamako had no intention of explaining either, as they quickly left Tetsuo and hurried on their way. They soon arrived at a three-storey building and rang the doorbell. A girl of about the same age as Michi and Tamako appeared from inside. “Sakura, this is Michi.” With that brief introduction, Tamako continued; “How are you? How are you going with your meteor lander satellite experiment? Can you show us?”


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“Of course. Actually, you didn’t have to come all this way because I was just about to do a global broadcast of the experiment.” They climbed a narrow staircase to the third floor where Michi found a laboratory packed full of all manner of equipment and tools, looking very different from a normal person’s home. “So let’s begin today's experiment!” Instead of facing Tamako and Michi, Sakura was addressing her viewers around the world. On a table in the middle of the room stood two cylinders, each about 30 centimeters high. Wondering what they were, Michi moved in for a closer look. “They’re the launch tubes. It’s dangerous so you should stand back a little.” Directly above the tubes was a window that slid open to the sky. “Right, I will begin by launching the meteor lander satellite from this tube, and follow that 0.1 seconds later by launching this rock from the other tube. The rock will be our meteor, so if the lander satellite successfully tracks and catches the meteor, then it’s time to celebrate!” She began the countdown. “10 . . . 9 . . . 8 . . .” Michi could hear many voices joining in from around the world. She then heard two quick whooshing sounds, followed by something flying straight up into the sky. Sakura moved to the center of the room, picked up her binoculars and looked skyward. After a moment, she shouted, “It looks like . . . success! The parachute has opened!” The room filled with the sounds of applause from around the world. Michi had no idea what Sakura’s experiment was about but from the words ‘meteor’ and ‘satellite’ she imagined it must be space-related, which impressed her very much. Finally, Tamako started explaining; "Sakura’s only 16, like you. But she’s on sabbatical.” “On sabbatical? Isn’t that what university professors do when they take a year

Sakura, High School Student on Sabbatical

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or so off to travel and contemplate life? Isn’t Sakura a high school student?” wondered Michi dubiously. “After she completed compulsory education at the end of junior high school, she earned a doctorate in space engineering, and now she’s on sabbatical. She’s exploring her next options while doing these experiments. Isn’t that right, Sakura?” “Well, yes. After these experiments, I'll use the lander satellite to monitor actual meteors burning up in the atmosphere. Then I'll do something with space or with the deep ocean, I haven't decided which, yet." Michi couldn’t help but wonder how a high school student could be doing all this. And more importantly, how she could have all this expensive-looking equipment in her room, because the home itself didn’t look to be all that affluent. She tried asking Tamako and Sakura all sorts of questions but Sakura couldn’t understand why Michi was asking about obvious things, so the conversation didn’t go anywhere. “Thanks Sakura. I’ll explain it to Michi later.” And with that, Tamako led Michi out of the room. Going down the stairs from the second floor, a door opened and a man appeared. After a quick “hello” and upon seeing Michi and Tamako, he closed the door again. A little dismayed, Sakura shrugged; “Dad is fully retired now. All he does is observe activities occurring around the world from in his room and monitor his VP investments. He should be doing something, himself. He says he used to be very active, doing all sorts of things.” After saying farewell to Sakura, Tamako and Michi went on their way. As they walked, Tamako began to speak.“In 2037, with the evolution of robots, humans no longer have to work to live. And with the progress of renewable energies, power is almost free as well.”


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As she broached the topic, a screen appeared before them on their path. It showed robots powered by renewable energies working in the fields of some country somewhere. After a moment, the screen disappeared again. “All countries have established what used to be called a Universal Basic Income system, providing everyone with a minimum living income without having to work. Using renewables, the robots work to make all the food we need and maintenance is automated as well.” As she talked, Tamako continually exchanged quick greetings with people walking by. “Of course, it’s now pointless to save up lots of money so when mankind finally realized this, they adapted their systems to reflect it. There are still some people who are money-hungry, but they’re frowned upon by society. The important thing is how much value each person creates. In the past, money was used as a means of exchanging value but somewhere along the line, money became the goal, rather than the means. Gaining wealth from changes in stock prices over one-thousandth of a second doesn't create any value at all, does it?” Nodding her head, Michi felt she almost understood what Tamako was telling her, but still her uncertainties remained. “That’s when they created VPs. Value Points. The system was apparently based on the bitcoin concept that started in about 2010. VPs are transferred from individuals or institutions to anyone who creates value. Now, there are two different types of value. The first type brings happiness or gratitude to people, while the second type is about making a commitment to the future of mankind. It’s a bit like growth through crowdfunding, I suppose. The real change happened in about 2017, when the technology was developed to quantitatively measure everyone’s feelings of gratitude and to use that to calculate points. Similar to the ‘Likes’ that they used a long time ago on Facebook, during your time, but you get a few points for simple ‘Likes” and a lot of points for deep-felt gratitude. You can

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Sakura, High School Student on Sabbatical

use your VPs for almost everything. Sakura is earning the second type, making a commitment to the future of mankind. She receives VPs directly from individuals, but she also receives many more from various VP investor institutions. That’s how she can afford such expensive equipment.” Michi was so impressed that words escaped her. She was amazed that a girl her age could carry the gratitude and hopes of so many people, committing herself to the future of mankind and personally undertaking space-related development. “While on sabbatical, she’s deciding whether to continue as she is, living on her VPs, or whether to work somehow to get a little more money. But knowing Sakura, I think she’ll probably continue actively acquiring VPs.” At that moment, a gust of wind blew the hat off an older man walking ahead of them. In a reflex action, Michi caught the hat and gave it back to the man. “Thank you very much, young lady. I appreciate it,” he said with gratitude. At the same time, a small alarm chimed somewhere. “Eh? Won't you accept my VPs?” Catching her hand again, Tamako pulled a confused Michi away and they moved on quickly. An error had occurred in the system because Michi didn’t have a VP account . . .


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Kenta, 18-year-old Mayor:

“Forget wasting our limited time,

stuck at school!”

“Right, page 82 is next!” Michi opened the diary as instructed:

We’re still only 16, but we are already 16. Dear, life is short. It’s a pity that we still don’t really know what we want to do yet, but it’s important to try many things until we find the thing that excites us. School is boring! Everyone studying the same things at the same time. We’ll never get any real knowledge or experience just sitting at these desks. But we’re tied to the desks, anyway. Do we go to school to learn social skills through communal living? I wonder. It’s social contact that toughens us up for society. Is that our lot then? Stuck at school, unable to experience the world, left with one or two experiences at the end of our lives? Aaah.

Someone might read those sentences and not understand, but they expressed an outpouring of built-up emotion. These were Michi’s own words, so she

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understood precisely. There were never enough words, though. Laid out before them now was a beautiful green football field. “Hey, Kenta,” cried Tamako from behind the goal net. A young relatively short boy, maybe of university age, who was training on the field noticed Tamako and waved. “Kenta’s 18. Six months ago he was elected mayor.” “Mayor?” “That’s right, mayor. This made the news as well. He's 18 but didn’t attend elementary or junior high school. He was home-schooled through VR education. They’ve been saying for a while that VR education provides a learning environment customized to each individual, but it has taken until Kenta’s generation for AI to reach a level of communication equivalent to humans. I remember you always wondered why teachers, who had only ever been teachers, were somehow able to provide career guidance counseling. AI and VR have solved that problem.” A screen appeared in front of Kenta while he was training with the ball. As he stood there, he talked with a person on the screen. Tamako continued; “Even as mayor, that’s the way he should work … and still have time for football. People might be educated by VR at home by themselves, but real exercise is here at a real field, with real students in a team. Kenta understands that. He has many AI robots working for him at the city office, but I think his experience of studying via AI and VR helps him interact well with AI staff. And with so many AI robot employees these days, human employees really need the sort of education he received.” Michi was finally able to speak; “So, you mean normal schools… I mean the old type of school doesn’t exist anymore?” “Well, I suppose schools that use the old one-sided teaching approach are an endangered species.”


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Tamako continued; “Actual experience, rather than desk work, is what develops people. They were implementing more and more active learning during your time, weren’t they? In a way, it was the right method but it was always difficult to provide a range of real experiences for all students. VR has enabled that. But as the name Virtual Reality implies, they are only virtual experiences after all … although they are almost real experiences. If we have time, I’ll let you try it out. It will be fun.” “Hmmm, but it’s all so amazing. I cannot believe that someone like Kenta actually exists.” Michi stared at Kenta as if he were from another planet. “Well, not really. Kenta's always grumbling about things on something similar to what you used to call social media. He writes that he can’t do things, that he’s having trouble, that he wishes he never became mayor, or that he really wanted to become a footballer. But I suppose he’s so popular because he’s open about such things. Actually, he’s a little like you, Michi. Always writing down his complaints. I think you would get along well together. You were always reading your books, while he was always learning by VR. You’re almost the same. And you’re both big-headed . . .”

Behind them, they heard a bicycle braking. It was being ridden by a woman of around forty. “Kenta’s really pushing himself, isn’t he?” “Yasuko! Long time, no see.” “Oh, Tama! Hey, this old lady’s got some new hobbies!” Michi wondered which old lady she was talking about. “What have you started now?” “Since I last saw you, I’ve studied geobiology and veterinary science, obtained my doctorate, volunteered in Sumatra, and now I'm working at the Sumida aquarium. It's been a long time since I earned a salary like this. And I’m

Kenta, 18-year-old Mayor

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into spotted garden eels right now, too.” “Yasuko, weren’t you working on analysis of weather observation data before? Some IT venture based in Africa?” “That was fun, but I’m 80 now so I thought I’d try something new. If they had this modern VR education when I was young, my life would have been much fuller, though.” As she left, Yasuko handed Michi a ticket to the aquarium. “Come over to see the spotted garden eels, OK?” The ticket was printed with the words ‘real time’ along with a moving picture of little heads poking out of the sand and swaying to and fro on stick-like bodies. Michi felt a little like those eels in their own small world. “She said she was 80. Was that true?” “Yes, I suppose so. With rapid advances in biomedicine and anti-aging, there are lots of 120-year-olds, running around doing different things, and looking much younger. These days, you can do lots of new things throughout your life. With VR, you can learn lots of things at the same time. And for actual experience, everyone does two or three completely different jobs. Thanks to AI, they’ve been able to develop services that schedule the things you want to do, while tailoring them to your individual pace and preferences, and that link you up with other great team members.” Michi was reminded of her own unchanging, featureless daily life. “If it were now, maybe your ‘short trip,’ your ‘running away’ would have been carefully planned for you, with VR experiences as needed, so you might have come straight back home, happy again.” With these words from Tamako, Michi felt a twinge of embarrassment.


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Once again, the pair picked up their pace with Tamako leading the way. “Page 15!” Michi opened the diary to page 15 and read:

Everyone’s immersed in social media, but I think it’s just “FOMO,” the fear of missing out. It’s OK for people to be on their own. But it’s a real pain these days. Wherever you go, you’re surrounded by electromagnetic waves and surveillance cameras. Technology connects everything, makes everything visual, enables us to easily do anything we want. But aren’t we just being dictated to by technology? I’d love to live like a real human, in a world without computers.

When she first started writing in the diary, Michi had been bullied a little on social media. With completely different interests to other students her age, Michi had tried a little too hard to make conversation and that had been the start of

Masanobu,

Traditional Folding Screen Craftsman

from ‘the Island Over There’:

“Forget a life being dictated to

by technology!”

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trouble with a girl in her grade. When Tamako had seen this happening, she brought the diary across and they started writing in it together. “So somewhere around here is the world I wanted to live in?” Before them, spread an area surrounded by narrow water channels. “Everyone calls this place ‘the island over there’ as a play on the actual place name, Mukojima (island over there). It’s because this place is different from everywhere else.” From where they stood, everything looked like a streetscape from long ago. “There’s no IT or robot technology on ‘the island over there.’ You can’t bring any in, either. Electronic communications are blocked, all food is handmade, and there’s no electricity, too. Just then, a truck stopped silently beside them and a man got out carrying a large board. “Hey, Tama! Your mom’s not back yet? Is she getting more skillful at her job? My boss is keen to know how she is going.” “Masanobu is a craftsman. He makes traditional decorative folding screens. Hi Masanobu, is that board for one of your screens?” “I decided to create a new one and was just about to start drawing when I realized I didn’t have any boards. I just ran out to buy one.” Masanobu spoke a little like Tora-san, the knockabout character in a popular Japanese film series. “People who live on ‘the island over there’ tend to be overflowing with innate imagination and creativity. Oh, it’s great over there. Maybe just a little inconvenient without cars. Anyway, I’m certain that the more difficult it is, the more power we have as humans.” “Michi, can I get Masanobu to show you around ‘the island over there?’ I want to check on something.” Pushing Michi forward, she said, “Masanobu, can you take care of Michi for


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a bit?” And then she was gone. “So what’s your name, miss?” “Michi,” she replied, suddenly left alone to follow him, reluctantly. The island was a tangle of narrow streets. Wooden homes from a bygone era lined both sides of the streets, with cats crossing their path here and there. The people in the streets walked quickly. Even though Masanobu was carrying his large board, Michi had to maintain a brisk pace just to keep up with him. Without colliding, a large number of people sped here and there, easily. Michi noticed a big difference – people in her time would wander the streets looking at their smartphones and causing all sorts of trouble. Here, everyone was looking forward. Between them an occasional bicycle weaved at breakneck speed, but even that was no problem. “Michi, are you one of them? Doing planned study at home with VR or something?” “No,” was all Michi could say in reply. “That lifestyle’s not for me, always setting rigid goals and studying efficiently to achieve them. Ha, ha, ha! When I was your age, we didn’t have VR education at all.” Hearing his laugh, Michi realized she was talking to Masanobu Kataoka, a boy she went to school with. Here he was 20 years older, carrying this large board before her. “Life's a mystery, and that makes it interesting. I originally wanted to be a musician but with life’s twists and turns, I now make folding screens.” Wow! Michi remembered a blond-haired Kataoka playing guitar in some strange punk rock band. She was sure of it, but it seemed that he didn’t remember her. “What about you Michi? What do you want to do right now?” “Me . . .?”

Masanobu, Traditional Folding Screen Craftsman from ‘the Island Over There’

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Michi had run away from home because she didn’t know the answer to that question. And now she was here . . . “I just want to walk. To walk aimlessly. It’s important to be aimless.” “Walk? Aimlessly?” “Right. You encounter all sorts of unexpected events when you walk. Walking about aimlessly, you can meet your future down any side alley." Michi felt that running away from home and doing all the walking she did today was a perfect example of this. “It’s better to not understand, Michi, to not know. It’s like serian . . . seriantipity . . . ummm.” “You mean serendipity?” “Yes, yes. That’s it. You might be a high school student, but you really understand. Computers and technology have erased any possibility of chance meetings. People are talking about this technology that pops up huge maps showing lots of people and their real-time thoughts in balloons, just like cartoons, with all their individual hopes for giving and receiving. This match-making service is, umm, I think they call it “Dynamic Bridging.” It’s ridiculous. It should be about walking and chance meetings. Living on this island lets you live like a real person. What do you think? Would you like to live here and become a craftsman, too?” Looking around, Michi noticed they were in a wider road lined by traditional workshops making chests of drawers, tortoiseshell items, ornamental hairpins, chopsticks and even ukiyo-e prints. Stella’s ukiyo-e studio, with all its technology, wouldn’t be able to operate here. “This is my workshop.” Michi was greeted by a row of folding screens, but wondered if anyone would buy such things in this modern world. “Well, now that you’re here on ‘the island over there,’ you should go for a


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walk. Don't think about it, just wander. That’s the point of this island. To wander and perhaps have some chance meetings. See ya!” Disappearing into his workshop, Masanobu gave Michi a wave. Suddenly left alone, Michi was a little confused but walked off, anyway. All sorts of people were rushing here and there. Everyone she passed seemed to show interest in her, with comments like “Hey, a new face! You with the retro-style school uniform! Who have you come to apprentice under?” or “You look hungry, dear. Come and have something to eat.” It seemed that another characteristic of ‘the island over there’ was an excess of nosey neighbors. This was the first time that she had been left alone to wander aimlessly; until today, when she ran away from home. And this was also the first time for her to experience the so-called ‘point’ of this island, which was to wander aimlessly. Following past habits without thinking, Michi pulled out her smartphone and opened the maps. The app showed an error though, and she laughed a little at herself for her stupidity. Suddenly, a short young boy appeared, grabbed her smartphone and ran away. “Hey!” Michi chased him as he tore down an even narrower lane than the one she had been walking on. After a few twists and turns, she lost sight of him as he escaped to the right down an alleyway filled with pot plants. Breathless, Michi stood for a while. She glanced down and watched as a calico cat slowly approached and brushed against her legs. Stroking the cat, Michi mumbled, “So now my phone’s stolen . . .” A voice said, “He got you. Obviously, someone’s going to target you if you show off some retro device like that. There are some real fanatics about. He'll probably get a lot of money for it.” A woman with permed hair was looking at Michi from a window close by. With a quick nod, Michi walked away.

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Masanobu, Traditional Folding Screen Craftsman from ‘the Island Over There’

During the chase, Michi had lost all sense of direction. The narrow streets prevented her from seeing Tokyo Skytree, so she didn’t know where she was. Just one day ago, Michi would have been unable to endure the insecurity, but for some reason she felt quite at peace. She felt confident that things would work out if she just kept walking. After a while, a woman’s voice stopped her in her tracks. “You must be Michi.” She explained; “Someone called Tamako said it’s about time for you to go back to the entrance.” As she walked on, one person after another called out to her; “You must be Michi. Tamako is waiting at the entrance.” With each giving her directions, she soon arrived back at the entrance to see Tamako waiting. “Well, how was it?” asked Tamako, mischievously. “It's a strange place, quite nostalgic. The people seem somehow more like real people. I suppose, a long time ago, people were like this all around Japan. I like this place. I walked a lot, but I don’t know how far.” In response to Michi’s words, the characters ‘5,963 steps’ appeared on the ground. “That’s what happens when you leave ‘the island over there,’” said Tamako, apologetically.


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The Real Tamako:

“Forget families only being

about blood relations!”

“The timing’s perfect. OK, page 96.” Michi read from the page she wrote exactly one week before leaving home:

Mom and Dad aren’t bad people, and they don’t meddle too much either, so I don’t really have anything to complain about family-wise, but lately I’ve been wondering what makes a family. I suppose it’s because of a sociology book I read recently. What are blood relations, just DNA information? I’m a girl, so I’ll marry one day and start my own family, I suppose. And that’s fine. But why does family just mean always being together with a partner and the children we have? Forget families! Do we need them? Of course, I want to find someone who I can stay with forever too, but I just don’t know… and I don’t know what I wanted to write here, either . . .

This was something Michi wrote recently, and it was certainly one of the

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reasons behind her decision to run away. Her family life had become a little depressing. “Here we are. This house. Everyone will be home soon.” Tamako pointed in the direction of the duplicated Tokyo Skytree, when a flying car-like thing suddenly appeared over their heads and landed silently before them. A boy ran from the air taxi straight into his home, with a tall man getting out behind him. “Hi Tarma,” called the man, stretching out the first vowel in her name. “Welcome home. Did you find any interesting wood in Brazil to use as chopsticks?” “Have a look at these,” he replied, pulling a pair of chopsticks with a mesh-like pattern from his breast pocket.In fluent Japanese, the African-looking man continued; “It looks a little like a python, doesn’t it? They don’t use this wood much apparently, so it was just thrown away. It’s easy to work though, so I used a traditional polishing method to produce this result. A great find!” A woman was next to get out of the air taxi. Catching sight of Michi, she stopped still. After a moment, she continued in a whisper; “Michi?” The woman was in her thirties, and Michi found it impossible to take her eyes off her face. After maybe only a few seconds, she was overwhelmed by an unbelievable feeling of friendship. It was then that she realized. “Tamako . . .” This was the face of the Tamako she knew, only 20 years older. “Oh Michi, is that really you?” On unsteady feet, the woman approached Michi and held her by the shoulders, staring deeply into Michi’s face. “It is. It’s really you!”


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And with that came the tears. “OK Tamako, maybe here’s not the place. Let’s go inside,” called ‘high school Tamako’ to this new Tamako, who had lost her voice through the tears. When everyone was inside, ‘high school Tamako’ – the Tamako who had guided Michi through this 2037 Mukojima – started; “Before Tamako bombards you with questions, let me introduce myself again.” “My real name’s Tarma. I’m Tamako’s PAR, a Personal Assistant Robot in the likeness of Tamako when she was a high school student, as you can see. The acronym PAR sounds a bit silly, doesn’t it?” While she talked, Michi fixed her gaze on Tarma. “There are lots of PARs around these days, but not many people have humanoid ones in the likeness of themselves when they were young. Although there are some people who get PARs like me so they can always be reminded of their roots, to prevent them going astray.” “But my situation is a little different . . .” Finally able to talk, the real Tamako spoke up. “You suddenly disappeared, Michi. What was “I’m just going on a short trip” supposed to mean? Today is exactly 20 years to that day, and I’ve been thinking of you all day long.” Michi stared at Tamako, wondering what was happening. “I thought you’d come back. I was sure you’d come back. But as the years dragged on, my memories of our days together became fainter and fainter. I still wanted to welcome you home as the Tamako I was back then. That’s why I got Tarma, about five years ago. I’ve input as much information about those times as I could, so the way she talks is exactly like I was back then. I didn’t get a PAR for myself, but for you when you finally did return. But I never really believed I would see you again, and still as a high school student.” Breaking down in tears again, Tamako was unable to continue.

The Real Tamako

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While Tarma prepared tea and cakes, the two friends told their stories. Michi explained that she still didn’t understand how she had gotten there, and Tamako explained bits and pieces of her life. Tamako had ‘started a family’ with Tiego, the man from Botswana who Michi had just seen talking about the python design. Apparently, people didn’t follow the custom of ‘getting married’ anymore. Tamako kept using the word ‘family,’ and she apparently had three of them. Tamako met Tiego when he came to Mukojima to train as a Japanese chopstick craftsman. She was one as well. And the child they had was adopted. In addition, Tamako had given birth to a daughter who was currently in Estonia, living with an Estonian family and studying at a leading IT school. Next week, she planned to go there and participate in her favorite all-day photo shoot, where she would live with her other family. When Tamako described her third family though, Michi’s mind went blank with her inability to understand. This third family was always moving from country to country without settling down. 3-D printers and other technologies enabled them to quickly reproduce their daily necessities and furniture in each new location, making moving home easy. “The problem is that, because we wake up in exactly the same room every day, it’s sometimes difficult to remember where we are,” explained Tamako with a wry smile. “If you think about it, family just means shared experiences linking people together. These days, we can have so many different experiences in a single life that a single family is just not enough to share them with.” Tamako tried to make the explanation as simple as possible, but it just ended up confusing Michi. However, Michi’s feelings of being tied down by family, feelings that accompanied her complaints about families, began to subside. While talking with Tamako, Michi finally started to feel anxious about her own family, her memories of which had started to fade over the course of this


32

long and busy day filled with surprises. Perhaps sensing these thoughts, Tamako broached the subject. “Your Mom and Dad are well. Older generation folks are not like me, having multiple families, so I suppose they haven’t changed much at all. I sometimes visit them to talk over old memories about you. When you disappeared, the place was in utter chaos. I was interrogated many times by the police, as I was the only lead to what might have happened. In the end, we were left feeling as if you’d been spirited away. I felt really sorry for your Mom; she was completely worn out. So, I . . . well . . . I copied your handwriting from our diary and wrote a postcard to your mom. I just didn’t know what else to do. I wrote, “I’m fine mom, so don’t try to find me.” A friend living in Estonia sent it for me, the friend who is part of my other family now. I never told your Mom that it was me who wrote the postcard, but I like to think that maybe it helped your Mom and Dad to gradually manage to cope. I always thought that I should tell them the truth one day. It’s been difficult, but because today’s the 20th anniversary of your disappearance, I decided to tell them when I woke up this morning. Michi remembered saying goodbye to her parents as she left her home just a little while ago, and looking at them in profile as the door closed. Again, she wondered “What does family mean?” However, she no longer wanted to complain about “forgetting families.”

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The Real Tamako

Epilogue

“Tamako, who seemed to have aged twenty years in a single day, spoke; “Michi, did you read the pages at the end of our diary?” Tarma handed the diary to Michi. After Michi’s last message, “I’m just going on a short trip. Don’t worry about me. And don’t tell my parents,” Tamako had written on dozens more pages. From soon after Michi had vanished, Tamako had filled the pages with endless messages calling out to Michi. “MICHI, WHERE ARE YOU? PLEASE COME HOME!” At a certain point though, the shared diary turned into a one-sided affair with no-one there to reply, filled as it was with Tamako's thoughts about her daily life and major turning points. “It was really hard at first, but writing in this diary helped to save me on a number of occasions too. It might sound strange, Michi, but thank you.” Still without her own VP account, a small alarm chimed somewhere. Tarma spoke next; “Well, we managed to go to all the places I wanted to take you to. I wanted to show you how things turned out in 2037, all those

34

uncertainties you wrote about in your shared diary. I’m glad we made it in time, because I was constantly thinking that you'd suddenly disappear again and go back to your own time. Well, how is 2037?” “Ummm,” replied Michi, at a loss for words. If she lived through the decades herself, this is how the world would become. There were certainly many things about 2037 that would change Michi’s uncertainties into happiness. “I think maybe I have gone too far from home.” Michi sighed deeply.

Michi walked with Tamako and Tarma through the darkening streets of Mukojima. With mobile stalls set up along the river bank, the area was a hive of activity. As they watched, more stalls swept down from the sky. Looking closely at Michi, Tamako asked, “What will you do now? Shall we go to your parents’ house? Or do you want to gather your thoughts first?” “I just don’t know . . .” was all Michi could reply. She was a little afraid to visit her parents after 20 long years. “Michi, do you know why your Mom and Dad gave you that name?”“What do you mean?”“You know I spent a lot of time with your Mom after you disappeared. Well, she told me that they chose the name Michi because it means something like a ‘path leading in all directions’ and they hoped you’d take that path to all sorts of new and exciting experiences.” “I didn’t know . . .” “And when you had no interest in school, but wanted to know and do all sorts of other things, it actually filled their hearts with happiness.” “I didn’t know . . .” Michi repeated, suddenly needing to see her parents again. The evening glow of sunset was visible though a gap in the clouds. Michi

Epilogue

35

stopped and watched the deepening red of the sky across the river. She suddenly remembered the words of the old man in the Hyakkaen Garden. “Wait! If you go around again in the same clockwise direction . . .” “But what if I went back to Hyakkaen Garden and went down the path in the opposite direction, counter-clockwise? Might that take me back to my own time?” wondered Michi to herself. She explained her thoughts to Tamako and Tarma. Tamako was of two minds. “I’ve never heard of anything like that before. Do you want to try it? Don’t you want to see your Mom and Dad, first? It will be a great surprise for them.” “Don’t you want to stay here with us? We could start a new shared diary, and I could write in it, too,” added Tarma. Michi asked herself these questions over and over, but finally replied, “I’m going to Hyakkaen Garden to see.” Though still unsure, Michi felt she could not stay in this world without first seeing what would happen if she traveled backward through the garden. Arriving at the entrance to Hyakkaen Garden, Tamako said, “So you’re really going. We’ll wait here for a while, just in case. I suppose you have to decide your own path in life.” Michi hugged Tamako for a long time. She shook hands with Tarma and entered the garden. She started walking along the path in the opposite direction to the one she took that morning. The sky had taken on the deep red hues of sunset. Looking back now, she saw Tamako and Tarma standing side by side. She looked forward again, and went on her way. Michi felt the world of 2037 suited her better than her own world, but she knew now that she had to get there on her own two feet, in her own time.


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“Whether I get back home or not, I have to live my own life.”

Epilogue

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Society is undergoing continual transformation at break-neck speed. Many people are apprehensive or even fearful about the future. Will machines become too intelligent? Will robots take

over? Technology holds tremendous promise for improvement and development in every field imaginable. But then there is the dark side . . . and nobody really knows what lies ahead. Or do they?

Follow Michi, a Tokyo high school student, as she is swept along on a completely unexpected journey two decades into the future. Will her worst teenage concerns about humanity and society be realized? Or will she discover that the world has morphed into a more compassionate place despite – or perhaps because of – the

ceaseless advances in technology?

Michi is blessed, or cursed, with a fleeting glimpse of everyday life in the future. But then she must make a genuinely

life-changing decision. What would you do?

Documents

A Day in the Life of · Prologue 1 “Right, let’s do this.” Sitting upright in front of a backpack that was fuller than normal, Michi made up her mind. It was Saturday, July