Everything

Tomorrow Brings Opportunity is a Chimare hidden in a small human resources office in the administration building. This office didn’t house a manager, a hiring agent, or even the officer in charge of acquisitions. This office kept the poor sap who had to deliver bad news, include wage cuts, hour reductions, and layoffs. For the last few years of the island’s operation, he had to tell thousands of workers that while today may look bleak, tomorrow brings opportunity. The sad thing was, he did his job very well. He sold the dream, even as he handed over an uncertain future. He’d fib about hearing rumors that the Japanese government wanted to convert the island into a lucrative resort. He talked about how the new workforce would be drawn from the current staff, and how government contracts meant guaranteed pay for years, and full pensions. “You don’t need to contact us,” he told them, “We’ll contact you. Just be patient.”

The Chimare now looks the part of every one of those dreams of a better life. It’s the neighborhood of an idealized 1970s suburban Japan. Faded sepia in tone, it has clean, boring houses, children playing outside, and well-behaved dogs. But the dream is far from perfect. Even the most optimistic of these workers knew deep down the truth of the matter. When a visitor turns her head, she gets flashes, glimpses of the truth. Those children are starving. Those homes are empty, with bank notices on the doors. The dogs are feral, roaming the streets in mangy packs. These glimpses never last more than a brief moment. But each time, they get closer and closer, until it’s too late, and the fear and dread overtakes her.