Getting a Technology System in Modern Day

Ayaka stood panting in her dojo, wiping the sweat from her brow that threatened to drip down into her eyes and blinking away the sting of some that already had. She bowed to her virtual sensei, then racked her naginata and began the logout procedure to return to the real world.

She had been in the middle of an intense sparring session when a soft, but insistent chime had sounded to inform her that someone was at the hatch of her quarters aboard the TFS Proxima. At first, she had been confused—why would someone be looking for her? She was basically just glorified cargo with no duties, after all. But then she remembered... him. And she thought, ‘Yeah, it’s definitely him.’

The “him” to whom she was referring, even in her thoughts, was the only downside to the otherwise almost fairytale she had been living since escaping from her overbearing father and too-soft mother. Lee Joon-ho, also known as the bane of her life, was an eighteen-year-old awakener from what used to be North Korea, and he was deeply fascinated with her. He was also who the exploration fleet had partnered her with for away missions, since they, in their infinite wisdom, had decided that an awakener had to be on every one of them.

But not as commanders; oh, no, never as the commander of the mission. Due to the ages involved, they couldn’t be trusted to command missions. And in Ayaka’s not-so-humble opinion, they couldn’t be trusted to command a toilet brush to clean a toilet!

To be fair, though, Joon-ho was the only awakener she had ever interacted with, so perhaps most of them were reasonable, well-adjusted people and she was simply being ungracious by lumping them all in with the Terrible Teenager.

The soft chime sounded again, interrupting her thoughts. She looked at the countdown timer and almost—almost—swore. “It’s only been twenty seconds!” she mumbled to herself, aghast once again at the impatience of the... the CHILD she assumed was at the door to her quarters.

Not that one of his general failings was impatience, though. He was... indolent, she supposed the word was, in all of his duties. If politeness and manners had been any less thoroughly drilled into her, she would have called him lazy, self-absorbed, arrogant, and any number of other less-than-flattering appellations.

But she wasn’t a rude person, so she didn’t.

She firmly clamped down on that train of thought as the chime sounded again and again, like an alarm clock calling her from the sweet depths of sleep. “Can you please inform my... visitor... that I’m currently logging out of VR and will be with him in about seven minutes?” she asked the empty air.

[Yes, ma’am,] the VI that acted as her personal space’s butler and majordomo replied in its flat, neutral tone.

“Thank you.”

[You’re most welcome, ma’am.]

......

Lee Joon-ho continued slapping the palm reader outside Commander Takahashi’s door. He’d just finished watching Kill la Kill and had an absolute, driving, all-consuming need to immediately recommend it to her. After all, she was Japanese, so she would definitely enjoy it as much as, if not more than, he had.

‘What the hell is taking her so long?’ he thought. ‘Even if she was asleep, the chime should’ve woken her up by now, right?’

[Warrant Officer Lee, Commander Ayaka has asked me to inform you that she is currently logging out of VR and will be with you in approximately seven minutes,] the neutral tone of the VI suddenly said.

“Seven minutes? It only takes five minutes to log out!”

[Commander Ayaka is currently—] the VI began.

“Shut up, you artificial stupid!” Joon-ho interrupted it. “I know exactly how long it takes to log out of VR, so seven minutes is bullshit!”

[Commander Ayaka is—]

“I said SHUT UP!” Joon-ho screamed, his voice breaking on the last syllable.

[Yes, sir,] the VI replied.

Joon-ho stopped palming the door and paced back and forth in front of it, his great bulk visibly wobbling under his too-tight uniform. He’d gained weight again, and should by all rights have had a new uniform sent to him, but he was too... otherwise occupied with his new hobby to remember to do so.

He had grown up under the Kim regime in North Korea, lacking in everything that he later discovered made life worth living. But a short time after the fateful day the coalition forces of the United States and South Korea had wiped the North Korean military off the map and forcefully united the separatist states, the empire had swooped in—and he couldn’t possibly be more grateful to them. He’d never known that food could taste so good, nor had he ever had access to the internet before. And that particular luxury had changed... everything.

Now he had all the food he could possibly want, and all of the knowledge of the human species was at his fingertips. He could LEARN all he wanted, and it only took him a matter of minutes to become an expert in any field he chose. Then he discovered anime, and everything changed. He became a hardcore otaku, NEET, and borderline hikikomori as he dove into the entertainment that decades of Japan’s finest animators and artists had created.

(Ed note: A hikikomori (引き籠もり) is a person who completely isolates themselves from society. In severe cases, they won’t even leave their bedrooms unless it becomes absolutely necessary for things like toileting and eating. It’s linked to some pretty severe mental illnesses and is a growing problem in Japan that’s somehow crossed borders and become a goal for some people to work toward. NEET is an acronym for Not in Education, Employment, or Training, and is a definite insult, not a point of pride.)

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that he was supposed to hate all things Japan—there was some deep generational trauma between Japan, China, and Korea, after all

—but he just couldn’t. Waifu after waifu had paraded past him, titillating and tantalizing his previously shackled imagination and fantasies and opening up a brand-new world for him to explore.

But then he became one of the blessed, and everything changed for him.