Right then and there, I decided to think of her as an ASIMO, the bipedal robot developed by Honda. If I did that, it would keep me on an even keel. Why not? Nowadays, robot technology is really coming along. No matter how I examine it, it looks exactly like a person.

Rocking slightly back and forth in the swing, the robot asked, “Why did you run away earlier? We’re short-staffed right now and could really use the help. We would have decided to hire you right away.”

Wow! The voice output was perfect, too. The joints moved smoothly, legs extending flexibly from its skirt. Japan’s technical skill truly is the best in the world, isn’t it?

“Seeing as you’re a hikikomori, did you get scared of working in the outside world and reconsider halfway through your application?” She drove right to the heart of the matter—in the end, though, they were just a robot’s words. No matter what a machine might say, no one would get that angry.

The robot continued to say even more mysterious things. “Don’t worry. I know how to escape from being a hikikomori.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I finally reacted to her words.

“Satou, right? Well, you’re really a hikikomori, aren’t you?”

Instead of immediately answering her question, I pointed at the sign hanging over the park entrance. It warned, “Beware of perverts! Young girls have been continually targeted”, in caustic red paint.

I said, “Are you sure it’s all right to meet a shady person like me at this time of night? I could be dangerous.”

“It’s okay. My house is right over there, so I know all kinds of things. For instance, you’re always spacing out in this park on Sunday nights, right? I saw you from my window.”

Having come this far, I was pretty anxious about all this. I couldn’t figure out what she wanted. Her real motives remained a mystery, and nothing seemed normal. Could it be some sort of roundabout religious solicitation?

“No, it’s not. I’m just going along to help Auntie Kazuko.”

“Huh?”

“Because I’m always troubling her, I figured it’s the least I could do to repay her.”

I didn’t understand what she was talking about, but she continued our awkward conversation as we both stared at the streetlamps. “Anyway, none of that matters. Satou, don’t you want to know? About how to escape from being a hikikomori?”

“Don’t call me Satou. I’m older than you.”

“You know my age?”

“Well, you look about seventeen, maybe eighteen.”

“You’re absolutely right!”