Satoru Nishihana, Governor General of the Virginia Prefecture, takes a quick sip from the steaming cup of tea in his hand as he walks through the French doors and onto a brick patio. He pays no attention to the fact that he is naked. No one lives close enough to matter, and if they complained, he’d just have them sent to a reeducation camp. He stands at the edge of bricks, his toes curling around the patio bricks. He revels in the rugged, sandy feeling of the material underneath. The air cools every part of his being except his hands.
“What a day to be alive!”
Glancing to his left, he nods as a soft wind dances through a large plot of cherry trees, their flower blossoms beginning to decorate the ground with delicate, pink snowflakes. Nearby, a group of evergreens bends in the wind. Satoru pauses to acknowledge the spirits whispering to him. He is in constant negotiation with this group and today, his conversation with them takes on a different voice. The message he hears, spoken in the tongue of the deceased ancestors, hints at an uncertain future.
Hmmm, clouds gather, and wind brings change.
Construction noise from below deflects his attention. Finally, he lifts his cup towards the trees as they sway.
“I pray you are all wrong. I can’t have you right about everything, can I?”
To let the ancestors know who was in charge, he downs the rest of the tea in a way that might be considered dishonorable. Then, pivoting on his feet, he strides into his home, closing the ornate French doors behind him. Donning a kimono, Satoru moves to a desk against a wooden wall. He picks up a microphone, pushes the small button on the side of the device, and speaks.
“This is Satoru. Do you read me?”
“Hai! This is Mr. Young. I read you five by five.”
“Status report?”
“Sir, we are on schedule.”
“I will be there in ten minutes, and I expect to be dazzled by what has been achieved overnight. I do not need to remind you that the regional Shogun will be here in one week. He is not as kind as I am and expects more than I do. Therefore, for my sake and yours, you and your men better work harder than ever.”
“Hai, I strive to please you and my Shogun. If you are not pleased, my life is forfeit!”
“Yes, it is,” Satoru says as he ends the transmission.
Replacing the microphone in its metal clip, Satoru sits down heavily. He swivels the chair to look out a large picture window. Work is only one thing that concerns him. Thoughts of his wife, Amiko, who still sleeps in the room they share, flit through his mind.
Amiko is just beginning to open up to me again, though it has been years since she was rescued from the internment camp outside Washington, DC. Still, her fears persist. Perhaps I should encourage her to seek out a Shinto priest.”
Clouds gather on the mountain across the way. Satoru shakes his head as if to remove the thoughts associated with his wife. He has work to do and must not get distracted.
Their residence overlooks a small valley in the occupied territory once known as the American state of Virginia. The irony is not lost on Satoru.
“Shenandoah. The Army of Northern Virginia under Jubal Early wasn’t strong enough to beat the Union, and it’s modern equivalent wasn’t able to stop our advances either.” Parroting a song once popular in the area, Satoru signs softly, “Oh, Shenandoah, I Long to See You . . . on your knees as the Emperor foresaw!” he adds forcefully. He continues, though not exactly meeting the correct verbiage of the song, “Oh Shenandoah, no doubt the downfall of the confederacy, and perhaps, our capture of Virginia, played no small part in our ultimate victory over you.”
Satoru ponders the past frequently, hoping it informs the future. Amid the chaos after the assassination of President Roosevelt and his Vice President, the battle for America had been bloody. Using Empire submarines full of warriors, German sleeper agents, and the resources of sympathetic countries, the Axis powers had been able to push the American troops back to the Mississippi River. In the process, they captured many people and uncovered an almost unbelievable array of weapons. Even today that fact shocks Satoru.
It took years to finally clean out the nests of resistance, though, even the Shogun must admit, some fierce opposition remains. Nevertheless, I admire the Americans and their ability to shift from a frontal war and to one in which they employ guerilla war tactics.
Satoru pauses momentarily, recalling a troubling intelligence report he’d read last week. He quietly contemplates its significance, speaking softly to the ancestors outside who are still swirling through the trees.
“The Americans were very skillful at shifting their tactics, but we have not suffered any attacks recently. Not on the rail lines, ammunition depots, military facilities, or camps. I must have our informers look into this before the Shogun arrives. It would not be very good if they attacked while he was here.”
“Father?” Satoru’s verbal introspection is interrupted by his sixteen-year-old son.
“Yes, Akira?”
“I feel you should know this . . . yesterday, the teacher allowed us to listen to American news programming.”
“What? She must know this has been forbidden! It borders on treason!”
“She said we need to know what the Americans are saying.”
Satoru momentarily considers this statement.
“What did you learn?”
“They hate us. One report was that brilliant men who once had been Nazi scientists until their capture and transfer to America are working on some sort of super weapon that they hope will end the war and push us from the land we hold.”
This causes Satoru to consider what his son has just said.
Superweapon? Perhaps what the ancestors are whispering about today? I pray it isn’t true. Perhaps this is why the attacks have stopped. It might be time to send Akira and his mother back to Japan.
Misinterpreting his father’s silence, Akira steps back and drops his head, believing he is about to be punished. In his mind, he is already planning how to punish his teacher. But his father surprises him.
“What they say does not matter, son. With Japan in control of most of the Eastern Seaboard, including shipping traffic in the Chesapeake Bay, the Hudson, the Ohio and parts of the Mississippi Rivers, and Herr Hitler’s sons and daughters in control of Europe, the world is made anew! Make sure your teacher knows these two facts. Tell her you told me and see what her reaction is.”
“Hai! Thank you, father!”
Watching his son jump into a confiscated VW van and leave for school. Satoru is glad Akira is not eligible to be drafted and sent to the front lines. But he can’t help himself as his son disappears, the VW sputtering as Akira misses second gear.
Hmmm. That vehicle is the result of German engineering. How can German scientists be helping the Americans? The report must be propaganda, designed to warp the minds of impressionable youth.
“Still, there may be some truth to the report. Who knows.”
Frustrated with the conundrum that is warfare, Satoru puts aside thoughts of an American super weapon and dresses quickly. He makes his way down to the development at the bottom of the hill and parks near a large swimming pool site where a ‘lazy river’ is under construction. Satoru believes anything with the word ‘lazy’ is too reminiscent of the Americans they conquered to occupy this place. However, this resort is not being built for him, so he keeps his opinion unsaid. Finally, he finds the project manager and beings his day.
“Mr. Young, impress me. But remember, I am not the ultimate audience. You must also impress the Shogun.”
“Hai! First, yesterday, one of our men liberated an unopened bottle of Scotch from home we’d never been in before.” Holding up the bottle of amber liquid, the continues. “This 12-Year-Old bottle was one of many he found there. Perhaps a gift for the Shogun?”
Taking the bottle, Satoru examines the label.
Ah, this is a find.
“This is an excellent idea; though the Shogun prefers Saki, he is also fond of Scotch and Bourbon. He will certainly be pleased.”
Returning his attention to the building site, the project manager continues, “And, as you can see, we have started to pour the concrete into the pool area. You should notice we are using a new mixture whose tint matches that of the Chrysanthemum Throne of the Emperor.”
“Yes, I was going . . .”
Suddenly, the construction noise is overridden by an air raid horn; its tone going up and down as the pole on which it sits turns.
“An Air Raid? There was no mention by the military of a system test so early in the day.”
He checks his watch.
“The horns are normally tested at noon each day. It is not noon.”
He glances upward as a shrieking sound pierces the air.
Every worker stops what they are doing, and looks skyward, wondering why they hear something like thick paper being ripped in half.
Satoru has enough time left to ponder one last question.
Is this why the ancestors were so angry this morning?
A split second later, a bright light turns them all into glass and smoke, courtesy of the American super weapon.
Virginia becomes the first occupied territory, a sacrificial lamb of sorts, to feel the wrath of the new era.
