There were very few people on the road—maybe a couple of housewives heading home from shopping and some young people heading for the same school I was. I passed very few, though.

However, my journey to school that day was decidedly different than it had been every other day. Everyone I passed looked at me. And I was absolutely positive that though it was very, very quiet—almost so quiet as to escape my hearing—each one of them let out something akin to a giggle. Of this, I was certain.

It’s true.

I’m positive.

They each saw me and then began to ridicule me! The housewives and then the students, they all noticed me and laughed.

I was astonished. Why? Why should they laugh at me?

“Hey, look at that guy. There’s something wrong with him, huh?”

“Ew, how awful. I wish he wouldn’t leave his house.”

“Ha ha ha. He looks like such an idiot.”

It couldn’t be… probably wasn’t… might not have been… just a persecution complex on my part.

Listening carefully, I was sure I had heard them, their voices mocking me.

Ever since then…

Ever since then, I have been afraid of going outside…

The speakers crackled. “That’s right. Those people who laughed at you were interference operatives. It’s definitely not just a persecution complex, Mr. Satou. They used your easily hurt, naive soul against you, setting you up to become a hikikomori.”

Ah! That’s what happened! At that moment, the deep darkness that had covered my spirit for such a long time finally was driven away.

In short, up to this point, someone had been psychologically manipulating me. Thinking about things that way, everything now made perfect sense! Who could have done such a thing? Why?

I had no idea. No idea at all.

Just then, my television suddenly whispered, “The N.H.K. is operated with the help of subscribers like you.” Those words, usually barely noticeable, began to agitate me for some reason. N.H.K… I felt that, within those three letters of the alphabet, some kind of grave secret might be hiding.

This absolutely was not some simple delusion of grandeur or ridiculous nonsense. Even though I was currently right in mid-trip on a powerful hallucinogen, it didn’t mean that I had lost my ability to make a sober judgment. In fact, my brain was working far better than it had in the previous twenty-two years of my entire life.

One plus one equals two. Two plus two equals four. Look, my logical thought processes work perfectly!

That’s why I need to think. Right now, I need to think!

N.H.K. In those three letters hides a tremendous secret having to do with me.