Prologue

JULY 18, UNIFIED YEAR 1914, SOMEWHERE IN IMPERIAL CAPITAL BERUN

In the beginning, there was only light. Then came a gentle sensation of floating, a brief repose. There was warmth and a vague restlessness, provoking a desire to lose oneself. Lose oneself? Yes, I’ve forgotten something. But what could it be? What could I have possibly forgotten?

Before a chance to face such questions came along, it suddenly began shivering. A moment later, its mind registered the cold. A chill that pierced the skin. Such was the nature of a newborn babe’s first brush with the crisp, raw air outside the womb. Not that there was time to realize.

But the sudden onslaught of alien yet once familiar sensations caused a panic. At the same time, it began writhing in distress, caught up in a violent struggle to breathe. The pain was nearly unbearable as the lungs—the entire body, each and every cell—cried out for oxygen. Unable to remain calm enough for rational thought, all it could do was thrash about.

The overwhelmed, unresponsive senses ravaged by agony left no option other than flailing in pain. Strangled by these things, it easily lost consciousness. Fully free of the emotions of a human who hadn’t wept in ages, the body sobbed instinctively.

Awareness faded, and the concept of self grew muddled. Upon awakening, it saw the ashen sky. The world was blurry… Or perhaps that was due to hazy vision? Everything seemed distorted, as if seen through glasses with the wrong prescription.

Despite having been out of touch with human emotions for so long, even it was unsettled by such clouded eyesight. It was impossible to discern even rough shapes.

After nearly three years of objective time, having finally begun to regain a sense of self, it was struck with utter confusion.

What is this? What happened to me? This vessel couldn’t maintain awareness for very long, and the memory of being placed in it had yet to surface. So when its fading consciousness just barely registered an infant’s wails, it found the cries shameful yet failed to understand why.

Perhaps mature adults didn’t cry, but babies certainly did. Infants were supposed to be protected and given equal opportunities, not despised. Thus, with a deep sense of relief, it relegated the vague shame to a dark corner of its mind, blaming it on the lack of a clear consciousness.

The next time a hazy sense of comprehension dawned, it was absolutely bewildered, not surprisingly. If memory served correctly, it should have been on a Yamanote train platform. Yet after coming to, it was somehow inside a massive Western-style stone building, getting its mouth wiped by a nun who seemed to be a nursemaid. If this was a hospital, then a safe assumption could be made that there had been some sort of accident. Blurry vision could be explained by injury as well.

Yet now that its eyes could see clearly in the poor lighting, it could make out nuns in old-fashioned dress. And the inadequate illumination…apparently came from anachronistic gas lamps, unless things were not what they seemed.

“Tanya, dear, say ‘ahh.’”

At the same time, it noticed a bizarre lack of electrical appliances nearby. In the civilized society of 2013, here was a room devoid of electronics yet riddled with items long considered antiques. Are they Mennonites or Amish? But…why? What am I doing here with them?

“Tanya, dear. Tanya!”

The situation was a difficult one to grasp. The confusion only deepened.

“Come now. Won’t you open your mouth for me, dear? Tanya?”

I don’t understand. That was precisely the problem. That was why it hadn’t noticed the spoon the nun held out. But of course. Even if it had, never in a million years would it have dreamed of eating the proffered food. Surely the spoon was meant for this “Tanya, dear.”

But while all these thoughts were swirling around, the nun finally lost her patience. With a sweet yet stern smile that brooked no argument, she stuffed the spoon into its mouth.

“You mustn’t be picky, dear. Open up!”

It was a scoop of vegetables that had been stewed into mush. But that single spoonful also thrust the truth at hitherto uncomprehending “Tanya.”

Stewed vegetables. That’s all the nun had stuffed into its mouth. But for the person in question, the action only made things more bewildering. In other words, it—I—am Tanya.

Thus, a cry arose from the depths of its soul: Why?

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AUGUST 14, AD 1971, UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

On August 14, 1971, a team of researchers led by Dr. Philip Zimbardo commenced an experiment under a grant received from the United States Department of the Navy’s research institute, the Office of Naval Research (ONR). The planned duration was a mere two weeks. Its objective was to collect rudimentary data on an issue with Marine Corps prisons that the navy was also facing.

The participants recruited for this experiment were normal college students of sound mind and body. On the second day, however, the team ran into a serious ethical problem.

Not only did those who had been assigned to be guards verbally abuse and degrade the ones in the prisoner role, despite the prohibition of such behavior, but also acts of physical violence had become increasingly prevalent. As a result, the team was forced to discontinue the trial only six days after it began.

This later became known as the Stanford Prison Experiment. Ironically enough, notwithstanding the pitfalls of the project’s dubious morality, the results were replete with implications for the field of psychology. Along with its predecessor, the Milgram Experiment, the Stanford Prison Experiment demonstrated something fundamental about human nature.

In an isolated space, individuals would submit to power and authority, while those in dominant positions would wield it without restriction. Analysis of this phenomenon, known as “obedience to authority,” yielded shocking results. Surprisingly, this deference had nothing to do with a person’s rationality, sensibility, or personality but was instead the product of remarkable deindividuation triggered by the assignment of roles.

In other words, the two experiments demonstrated that human behavior was dependent on environment. To put it in extreme terms, the results indicated that anyone could have worked as a guard at Auschwitz, regardless of their individual disposition or moral character.

In the end, environment played a larger role defining an individual than personal traits. When he learned in university that humans were that sort of creature, it felt right rather than wrong.

Surely everyone learns as part of compulsory education in elementary school that all people are born equal. Children are taught that they are all equally unique and irreplaceable. But it isn’t hard to find disparities that contradict those familiar maxims.

Why is the kid sitting in front taller than me?

Why are some of my classmates good at dodgeball and others aren’t?

Why can’t the kid next to me solve such a simple problem?

Why can’t the kids in the back be quiet when the teacher’s talking?

But in an elementary school environment, children are expected to be “good.” They are told that everyone is different yet special. They are terrified that if they don’t follow etiquette, they will be “bad.” And so the “good kids” strive to avoid becoming “bad.”

By the time they begin attending cram schools to prepare for entrance exams, the good kids secretly look down on the bad kids and make a point of avoiding them. They will enter a good junior high, followed by a respectable high school, and then a prestigious university. These people are on the fastest track, doing their best within the rules and regulations presented to them.

In order to remain good in that environment, students have to do exactly as they are told and always meet everyone’s expectations. Just as they are told, they spend day after day hunched over textbooks and reference books, competing with classmates for grades. As they lead such a life, those engaged in the fierce battle of college entrance exams come to view idlers as losers. Within an environment where grades determine everything, it’s only natural for high achievers to hold poor students in contempt. On the other hand, the majority of those successful students don’t consider themselves especially bright. After all, it has long been the case that whenever a regular student shows even a little pride, the truly gifted in their grade put them in their place.

One student might be having a hard time while the kid next to him is nonchalantly entering the International Physics or International Mathematical Olympiads. It takes more than a little effort to sit shoulder to shoulder in a classroom with geniuses for whom comprehending all the material is a given. Despite the warped perspective, they have a strong enough grasp on reality to diligently pursue their studies.

Whether they like it or not, all college-bound students know the truth. If they want an income comparable to what their parents possess, they have to attend a good university and get a decent job, at the very least. This group is driven by a strong, youthful desire to succeed. But along with that desire comes the fatal fear of failure. As such, they have no choice but to chain themselves to their desks.