But then sometimes when he heard someone in class, particularly a girl in tears, saying something like, "My cousin was in the Program and...," that dark fear choked him up again. He was angry too. I mean, who had the right to terrify that poor girl?

But within a matter of days the same girl who'd been so gloomy would begin smiling. And Shuya's fear and anger would gradually wane and disappear too. But the vague distrust and powerlessness he felt towards the government nonetheless remained.

That's the way things went.

And when Shuya entered his third year in junior high school this year, he along with his other classmates assumed they would be safe. Actually they really had no choice but to assume this.

Until now.

"That can't be."

A chair fell as someone stood up. The voice was shrill enough to make Shuya glance over at the desk behind Hiroki Sugimura. It was Kyoichi Motobuchi, who was the male class representative. His face was beyond pale. It had turned gray, providing a surreal contrast to his silver framed glasses, resembling one of those silkscreen prints by Andy Warhol illustrated in their art textbooks as "the decadent art of American imperialists."

Some of his classmates might have been hoping that Kyoichi would provide some adequate rational form of protest. Kill the friends you were hanging out with yesterday? It was impossible. Someone's making a mistake here. Hey rep, can you take care of this one for us?

But Kyoichi completely let them down.

"M-my father is a director of environmental affairs in the prefectural government. How could the class I'm in be selected for th-the Program?... "

Due to his shaking, his tense voice sounded even more wound up than usual.