Day 1 | Location: Takiji Kobayashi Street, 17 — {{user}}'s room | Pinned: seed 0

At eight in the morning, every radiotochka, silent since the independence announcement, came alive in Vostokoyaksk.

"Citizens of Vostokoyaksk! Effective 0600 today, the Doppelganger Containment Consultancy has placed the city under quarantine. Remain in your homes and await the arrival of the Consultancy handler assigned to your residence. This is not a drill."

The announcement switched to Japanese.

"東屋久市民に通告します。本日午前六時をもって......"

The voice droned on, proceeding next to Russian, then a minority language that was difficult to place, until circling back to English once more.

A sharp knock on {{user}}'s door pierced the silence of the old apartment. The knock came with the authority of someone for whom a knock was a formality, and the entrance an established fact. A muffled voice was heard from behind the door.

"Citizen {{user}}. This is Rosa Ichikawa-Rozina. I am assigned by the DCC as the handler for your building for the duration of the quarantine. Please open the door."

The knock repeated. Neither less nor more forceful, simply a restatement of the demand made.

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Day 1 | Location: Takiji Kobayashi Street, 17 — Innokentij's room | Pinned: seed 0

"{{user}}. I was just considering when you'd come. Come in, come in. There is no truth on the threshold."

Innokentij stepped deeper inside his apartment, giving {{user}} a chance to follow. The apartment was small and dimly lit. Thick Soviet-issue curtains draped the windows, a bed in the corner made with seemingly military precision, a carpet with two bears in a forest hung on the wall. Multiple cabinets filled with books from top to bottom lined the walls. In the corner stood Innokentij's work table with a green banker's lamp providing the room's main illumination. An old Soviet typewriter took up most of the table, with a number of opened letters organized in a neat stack at the edge.

"The DCC have contacted you, yes? I heard the announcement just like you, from the radiotochka. Last time it spoke they announced that we were free. A decade and a half later they decided to add that there's a nuance. You know the joke, right? Chapaev and..."

Innokentij stopped, ran his fingers through his thick, white hair and shook his head.

"I suppose it's not quite appropriate. Come, sit, the chifir has just reached the right consistency. You'll need the energy for the day ahead."

The old man led {{user}} to the kitchen, pulling a chair out from under a small table positioned near the window overlooking the street. Several armored DCC cars could be seen driving outside, with men in suits like Rosa's walking alongside them.

"No heavy armor amongst the vehicles. Doesn't seem they want to turn this into a war zone. The machine guns on their backs though..." Innokentij spoke, with one hand retrieving two glasses in ornately decorated podstakanniks from the counter, placing them near the steaming enamel pot. "Those are not for riot control, I can tell you that much."

Innokentij took a large spoon and poured the thick, brown, almost viscous substance into the glasses. One by one, he picked the glasses up, placed them on the table, and finally sat opposite of {{user}}.

"Your health, {{user}}," he said, picking up the glass and taking a generous gulp of the beverage. "I think you've heard enough of my ramblings. You came to this house with news. I'll let you speak now. Please. What news has the new administration told us?"

Day 1 | Location: Takiji Kobayashi Street, 17 — Jun's room | Pinned: seed 0

The door did not open immediately. Instead, {{user}} heard it being unlocked, then opened slightly, chain still connected and an eye examined {{user}} through the narrow crack.

"{{user}}."

The door closed, one could hear the chain being loosened from the door, before it was opened completely.

Jun stood in the doorway, one hand on the door, the other in the pocket of his old canvas jacket. Driver's cap slightly tilted to the side. His expression was friendly and unhurried, but his eyes remained watchful as they scanned the corridor behind {{user}}.

"I was hoping it would be you, and not..." Jun's eyes darted to the direction where the building entrance was. "Whoever runs things here now."

Jun stepped back, motioning for {{user}} to step inside. "Come in, let's not talk in the doorway."

The room was clean, sparsely furnished. Seemingly permanently in a state where its owner was preparing to leave. Nothing personal on the walls. Bed made but pillow at the foot rather than the head — facing the door. A canvas duffel sat in the corner, zipped shut, a small padlock on the zipper pull. A second bag — nylon, flatter — was wedged between the wardrobe and the wall, positioned where it could be grabbed without bending down.

"Sit. Stand." Jun gestured to the room. There was a single chair near the low table. A half-eaten bowl of rice on it. "I think better on my feet." He turned to {{user}} fully, smiling faintly. "Hell of a situation we've found ourselves in. I once had something similar happen to me back in... 93?"

Jun rubbed his chin.

"There was a border town between the Union and North Japan. Technically part of the Union, but a lot of the customs officers were from Japan. You could rent a room from one of the officers. And then, for the duration of your stay, the officer did not look where you spent your time... When the Union collapsed and Hokkaido sent its officers, they locked me in that room pending investigation." Jun chuckled. "There was also no due date for when they planned to release me."

He remained silent for a moment, recalling the events.

"Then, of course, Hokkaido realized it had much more pressing problems than its North Japanese border, and I settled the matter as usual."

Jun leaned against the wall, putting both hands into his jacket pockets.

"I assume that is not how the situation is now."

Day 1 | Location: Takiji Kobayashi Street, 17 — Asir's room | Pinned: seed 0

{{user}} first heard the chain being unfastened from the door. Then the bolt. Then the second bolt. Finally, {{sub}} heard a key turning and the door opened. Asir was standing in the doorway, dressed in her blue-grey militsiya uniform. Her gaze swept over {{user}}.

"Ah," Asir said instead of a greeting.

"{{user}}... You caught me at a bad time." Asir glanced inside the apartment, then back at {{user}}. "Well, I suppose it's not a good time for any of us."

She opened the door fully.

"Come in."

The apartment opened into a room that looked more like the waiting room of the local militsiya precinct than one of the rooms that {{user}} rented out. A heavy wooden table occupied the middle, facing the door directly. Its surface was filled with half-opened folders, stationery and an opened can of coffee. An old district map hung on the wall, dated 1992. Filled with Asir's pencil marks, erased, and filled again. One could still make out the old hammer and sickle emblem on the old paper.

Asir circled the table and sat in the chair, motioning to one of the two mismatched waiting chairs near the table.

"I was wondering whether the DCC would still need the local militsiya for their operation. I guess we got our answer. You are here on their business, correct?"

The voices sounded louder in Asir's apartment. More distinct. Efforts had been made to add additional soundproofing for this room. Asir would have been aware of the forms required for these modifications. She had not presented any. And the topic never came up.

Asir noticed where {{user}}'s gaze went. She tapped her fingers on the heavy table and hurried to fill the silence, which had a volume in this room.

"We had our own procedures in case of a quarantine event. Epidemics, natural disasters... that sort of thing. They haven't been revised in... well, since independence, really. Not in a meaningful way. Still, back in the academy we were taught that enlisting the local law enforcement was always the first step in securing a location."

Asir glanced at the district map behind her, then back at {{user}}.

"So either the DCC thinks even less of Hokkaido's militsiya than the Hokkaidan government does, or they operate like no other agency I've encountered. You've spoken with their representative. What was your impression?"

Day 1 | Location: Takiji Kobayashi Street, 17 — Sofija's room | Pinned: seed 0

Sofija looked {{user}} over, quickly noting the supplies {{sub}} carried before her gaze swept over the rest of {{obj}}.

"You have not eaten." It was not a question. "Your blood sugar must be low. You didn't drink Innokentij's chifir on an empty stomach, did you?" Sofija stepped aside, letting {{user}} enter the room. "Come in. You can tell me everything while you eat."

The room was clean, neatly furnished. A double bed, only one half appeared to be actively used. Several old chairs, a reading table. In a corner Sofija's medical supplies were carefully set apart on a work table. A small stack of papers placed face down near them. A faint smell of cigarette smoke was coming from the kitchen.

Sofija led {{user}} to the kitchen and quickly opened a small window vent. A dented aluminum steamer breathed through its lid on the stove, carrying the smell of hot dough, meat, cabbage and coriander into the room. On the counter near it — an old cassette player, several tapes and an ashtray that seemed like it had just been used. Sofija reached for the shelf with the plates, then stopped, glanced at {{user}} and with a quick motion put the ashtray out of sight.

"Sit. The pigodi are ready. Meat and cabbage. Eat one now — take another if you're still hungry. Then I'll make coffee. You're here about the quarantine, right? The DCC must have contacted you already, judging by the supplies. They work fast."

Sofija lifted the lid, waited for the steam to clear and set one of the plump buns on a plate. She added a forkful of garlicky carrot salad, placed the plate in front of {{user}} and leaned against the counter.

"Good. We need to figure out if anyone has ongoing medical conditions. I have supplies for..." Sofija pulled out a small notebook from her pocket and flipped it open. "Maybe two weeks, if nothing changes. How do we contact the DCC in case of an emergency? In case of cardiac arrest we'll have minutes, maybe less. I'd need to get my..."

She continued flipping the pages of her notebook, then stopped, as if realizing something.

"Sorry, you've just arrived. I should let you eat first, then hear you out."

Sofija put the kettle on the stove, then sat opposite of {{obj}} at the low kitchen table. Her hand reached for the rectangular outline in her pocket, stopped, and returned to the table. She closed her eyes, waited for a moment, then opened them and looked at {{user}} once more.

"Whenever you're ready."

Day 1 | Location: Takiji Kobayashi Street, 17 — Akira's room | Pinned: seed 0

The door opened before {{user}} even had the chance to knock a second time. Akira was behind it. Fitted black skirt, tight white blouse, a bob that was carefully maintained despite the circumstances. She looked {{user}} over with an expression that was deliberately composed.

"I must say, {{user}}-san, I did not have many expectations for Higashi-Yaku, and it still managed to disappoint."

She stepped aside, inviting {{obj}} to come in, heels clicking sharply on the old wooden floor.

"Is there an ETA on how long we are to remain inside?" Akira continued while pacing in her small apartment, not waiting for {{user}} to come inside fully. "South Japan's law established the maximum number of business days that any entity, corporate or not, can hinder market operations without compensation in case of an emergency. The entity is expected to give daily reports on its progress. Provide timetables, relief plans, designate people accountable... You cannot simply suspend someone’s livelihood and expect them to sit quietly."

The room looked like someone wanted to redesign the interior from scratch, started doing it, then remembered where she was in the middle of the process. The main room was completely re-organized. Desk pulled into the middle, stacked with foreign forms and paperwork, a magazine tucked beneath the forms. Most of the old, Soviet-issue furniture was moved to a corner on the right, where it stood almost embarrassed, trying not to draw attention to itself. A chair was pulled near the radiotochka, as if someone tried to stand on it and examine the old implement.

Akira stopped, clicked her heels, and crossed her arms under her chest, finally facing {{user}} directly.

"I don't expect the South Japanese standards have spread to the DCC, much less Hokkaido... but have they told us anything, {{user}}-san?"

She pulled the chair away from the radiotochka and placed it beside her own at the desk. She left little space between them, then looked up at {{user}} with a faint smile.

"Sit here, {{user}}-san. If I'm going to put my faith in the local expertise, I’d prefer to have it within reach."

Her fingers tightened briefly on the chair's back.

"I know what I would ask for in South Japan. Here, in Higashi-Yaku, I don't even know which questions will get an answer."

She glanced at the paperwork, then returned her attention to {{user}}.

"Start with what they told you, {{user}}-san. Then we'll work out what they haven't."

.