[b]JUNE 4, 2016
SATURDAY
11:15 AM, JAPAN STANDARD TIME[/b]

The phone rang.

Or rather, every phone rang. 

In this day and age, it was predominantly mobile phones, of course. But landlines were not exempt, nor were satellite phones. In short, every telephone in service in the Japanese Archipelago suddenly received an unexpected call from an unknown number. A massive and inexplicable event, shared by hundreds of millions throughout the entire country. 

On this sunny summer morning, the reactions to the call were as varied as the millions who received it. Many chose not to answer. Of those who lifted the phone to the ear, Some rolled their eyes, some clucked their tongues, some laughed, some shrugged and muttered [i]"shikata ga nai"[/i]- all before hanging up a scant few seconds into the message. Others, however, stopped whatever they were doing and listened to the entirety of the message. They were perhaps a minority, and among that minority only a slim few took the message seriously. 

The message, generally agreed to be some sort of recording, was taken down or recorded by countless hands all over Japan, to be played on television, printed in newspapers, and accessed online for the few who had not received it.

It was a male voice, speaking in flawless Japanese with a Kanto accent (though the many linguists who studied the tape concluded that the language was a second one and the accent affected). The tone was polite, but crisp, businesslike. After all, this was no social call. This was an ultimatum. 

The message was as follows:

[i]People of Japan, you have exactly forty-eight hours to announce your unconditional surrender.

The voice you are hearing belongs to a duly appointed emissary of the Empire of Seatopia. Be it known that the illegal government of Japan currently occupies territory that belongs rightfully to the Seatopian people. We were once a proud and prosperous people, the first of Earth's great civilizations, building grand cities before you even mastered agriculture or the wheel. For our genius, our generosity in shepherding the benighted people of what came to be called Japan, we were punished. Your rose up against your rightful masters, with sheer numbers you drove us underground and into the sea. Over the centuries we have watched as you took our ancestral home, as you befouled our garden, as you heedlessly and arrogantly rode roughshod over that which was rightfully ours.

The time has come to vacate the squatters.

Those who wish to leave Japan will not be hindered. Those willing to renounce their Japanese citizenship and swear an oath of fealty to the Most Serene Emperor of Seatopia, Antonio XXI, will generously be allowed the privileges of his subjects. We are an ancient people, just and forgiving, our steps guided by our merciful god Megalon, peace be upon Him.

Acquiescence to our terms is to be announced on television by your Prime Minister, on which occasion a formal document of surrender will be presented to the representatives of the Japanese government. Silence will be regarded as resistance- which I assure you will be met with misery and annihilation. 

You have forty-eight hours, Japan. May Megalon grant your leaders the wisdom to take your only realistic course of action.[/i]

--------

Hirotoshi Ueda gently set the receiver back in the cradle, a faraway and thoughtful look on his face. The message had come through even on his supposedly secure, encrypted hotline. He looked over at Watanabe, his young personal aide, who was slowly shaking his head as he slid his cell phone into the pocket of his impeccable Armani suit.

"Watanabe," Ueda said slowly, removing his glasses as he turned his desk chair, "did you just receive the same call?"

"Yes sir, I did," the younger man said. He looked down at the buzz of a text message. "So did the Finance Minister, it seems." A second buzz. "As well as the governor of Tokushima Prefecture." A third buzz. "And my wife."

"Your wife is not in government, is she?" asked the Prime Minister. He rubbed at his temple with his fingers. Something here was wrong.

"No, sir. She is a banker- currently she is in Sapporo on business."

Ueda frowned, deeply troubled. He stood, looked out the thick glass of his window, out at the hustle and bustle of the world's largest city on a bright Saturday morning. Watanabe's phone continued to buzz as he received more notifications.

"Sir," Watanabe said timidly after a few moments of respectful silence. "Perhaps we should turn on the news." Without waiting for permission, the aide flipped on the television built into the wall, bringing up an FNN special bulletin- regarding the strange phone call. Behind the anchors was a map of Japan, the prefectures that had reported inhabitants receiving the ultimatum colored in green. As Ueda watched, slowly the whole of Japan was highlighted in eye-catching green.

Ueda sighed. "What is it, Watanabe? Some kind of prank? Viral marketing?"

"I don't know, sir."

The Prime Minister sighed once more, as the FNN anchors chattered away, saying nothing of any importance. They seemed dismissive. Ueda was tempted to follow suit, but something was keeping him from being confident. He had never aspired to this office. "It seemed very threatening, don't you think?"

"Yes, sir. But it could just be a publicity stunt, like they say."

"Yes. Maybe. I don't know. I need to think. I should make a statement. Nothing about surrendering or any of this Seatopia nonsense. Just about finding whoever perpetrated this cruel prank."

"So you don't think it's real?" Watanabe asked, relief obvious in his voice.

"I don't know. Probably not." Ueda picked up his glasses, considered a moment. "I don't know," he said again. "Perhaps, just in case, we should do something. Just in case."

"What do you recommend, sir?" 

"The Central Readiness Force. They should go on alert. Not war footing, but a heightened state of readiness. Just in case. But nothing too alarmist or public. Keep it quiet."

"Yes sir." Watanabe exited to see to his assignments, leaving the older man alone.

The Prime Minister sank into his chair. He had never expected to face anything quite this bizarre. 

Hopefully, though, it would turn out to be nothing.