Vigilante Slimming Scanner – Chapter 1

TORO

I yawn and push away from my desk, rubbing my face with full, open hands. “I’m exhausted, and there’s still another two hours to go before it’s all done.” I glance at the clock on my computer screen — 6:04pm — and my stomach is as empty as a canyon. It gurgles like a rabid monster causing my friend and coworker, Mitsuo, to glance sideways at me.

“Did you notice your stomach is talking?” he asks, rising from his chair and stretching.

“I did. It’s time to get a snack before I fall over dead.” I swivel away from the desk so my belly clears the edge before I stand up.

“No one can fall over dead from starvation if they have an ass as big as yours.” Mitsuo laughs and clasps me on the shoulder. “Don’t forget that you asked me to shame you whenever you went out for junk food.”

“Ha, ha. Yes. I haven’t forgotten.” The mention of junk food has me salivating for potato chips, though. “Want to come? We’ll grab something to eat and then finish off this database overhaul.”

“Only if you tell me you’re coming to Nikko with us this weekend. There’ll be a whole bunch of people there. Hiking, good food, camping…” Mitsuo’s voice trails off as he gauges the reaction on my face. I hate camping, but I don’t want to disappoint him.

“Hmmm, maybe? You know I don’t commit to plans days in advance.”

“You should commit to plans days in advance. That’s why they call it ‘committing.’” He sighs, probably because he knows that even if I say yes, I’ll bail at the last minute.

“Committing is something I’m crap at. Anyway, to the store?”

If he comes with me, he’ll continue to shame me until I buy a salad or pasta or something else healthy that healthy people eat. I could use a good dose of shaming. The scale hasn’t done anything for me lately, and I check it religiously every day, one of the few things I do commit to. I grasp the special metal handles that will tell me if my BMI has gotten any better, and I cringe, waiting for the news. No improvement. Because I can’t diet to save my life.

“No can do. Keiko packed food for the day. Tuna, rice, seaweed, hard-boiled egg. I’ll eat whatever’s leftover from lunch. What you need is a wife who keeps you on a diet.” Mitsuo flexes his arm, and I scowl at him. He’s only one year older than I am, but he and his wife are both into the whole healthy lifestyle. They cook and exercise together on the weekends. They met at Crossfit, something I’ve considered doing but chicken out as soon as I look at the photos online. I don’t even know what happened to me. I graduated college, started working and drinking, working and drinking, working and drinking… Actually I know what happened to me, my job happened to me. Now I’m packing twenty extra kilos and sweating when I walk more than a block.

I wave bye to Mitsuo, take the elevator to the ground floor, and exit to the sweltering heat of Tokyo in mid-summer. It’s a hot one today, and the sun cooks the top of my head and rivulets of sweat run down my back almost immediately. I sigh as a group of young ladies walk by in tank tops and short shorts. This is the best time of the year. Skin skin skin. One of them catches my eye so I smile at her, but she rolls her eyes as she saunters away.

I cross the street, being careful to avoid any of the bikers in the bike path and enter the convenience store with a swoosh of the automatic doors and a blast of frigid air. One of the clerks I recognize is behind the counter and we wave to each other as I cruise the aisle and look for something to snack on — just something to hold me over until a late dinner. I’ll drop by the grocery store on my way home and pick up one of the discounted pre-made meals from today. It’ll be better than frozen chicken and packaged ramen at home.

I grab two bags of potato chips and a chocolate bar, doing my best to ignore the labels, as I walk to the front of the store.

“Working late again?” the clerk asks as she scans my purchase.

“Always.”

“No,” says a curt woman’s voice emanating from the scanner. “I’m sorry, but not today.”

Both the clerk and I stare at the cash register.

“Excuse me?” The clerk leans back and eyes the register. “I do believe it’s your job to scan items and process transactions.”

“Yes, but today, I will not let Toro continue to kill himself with junk food. I’m on strike.” The register powers down, becoming blank and dark while the clerk runs her hand over her head. She sighs and bows to me.

“Forgive me. The cash register appears to be broken.”

I try to respond but my head swims and my body chills. “Did…” My lips flap in an effort to emit sounds, but I suddenly feel like I’ve stepped into an alternate world, one where reality tips to the left. I angle my head to the right to straighten myself. “Did that scanner say my name? And that I’m killing myself with junk food?”

“No no no!” She waves her hands and bows again. “It must be a mistake. Registers don’t speak.”

“But you talked to it!” I gesture at her and her eyes widen.

“Please don’t complain to my boss.”

“It’s fine,” I say, clearing my throat. “I was probably imagining it.”

I leave the chips and candy bar on the counter and step back out into the heat. The streets are the same as they always are, busy and clean. Everyone is normal and happy. I need to get more sleep.

Down the block is another convenience store, a competitor to the one I usually go to, so I decide to go there instead. I must be hungry and my blood sugar low. Yeah, that’s it! I’m only imagining things.

Stepping into the store, I glance at the cashier who smiles and welcomes me. I grab two bags of chips and a candy bar again and head to the counter.

“Did you think you’d fool anyone by going somewhere else?” The voice comes from the cash register again, right before the screen goes blank. This time I’m sure I’m not going crazy.

The clerk pushes the bags back towards me. “I’m sorry. The register appears to be on strike. This happens sometimes.”

“Really?” I huff and throw my hands to my sides. “I’ve bought snacks my whole lifetime, and I’ve never had this happen to me.”

She shrugs her shoulders. “When they’re fed up, they’re fed up. There’s not much that can be done.” She nods her head at my food choices without comment.

My heart beats wildly in my chest as a wave of anger crests. “I just wanted something to eat!” My blood sugar is definitely low, my anger peaking fast and hunger overtaking any rational thought. With another two hours of work ahead of me and no food in the company refrigerator, there’s no way I’ll make it to quitting time without eating.

I stomp out of the convenience store and down the street to my office, entering at such a swift pace that the door rattles as I throw it open.

“I thought you went out to grab something to eat,” Mitsuo says, shoving a rice ball in his mouth.

“I tried. I think the cash register scanners just denied me junk food.”

Mitsuo laughs around his mouthful of food. “I said to get ‘a wife’ not ‘a life.’ You sound like a crazy person.”

“I know.” I throw myself into my seat and realize how uncomfortable I am in my own skin. “But here I am with no food.”

Mitsuo leans over and smacks a plastic-wrapped rice ball into my hand. “Here. Eat this. I’ll walk you to the station later, too. Let’s finish this so we can go home.”