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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/EclosionK2 on 2024-09-19 00:42:19+00:00.
I was now a cast member, playing a character named ‘Mr. New York’ at the theme park. They gave me a traditional white baker’s costume, complete with a chef hat embroidered with stars and stripes.
My direction was to play a stereotypically strict American “cooking show” judge. I had to evaluate pastry creations assembled by Japanese children on this tiny Island.
With less than an hour of impromptu training, I was taken to the Confection Showroom where kids started lining up to show me the virtual cakes they had spent all season constructing on their phone.
***
I hated being back at the Confection Showroom, It reminded me of all the horrors I encountered yesterday, as well as the elevator breakdown I experienced this morning. But my new workload was so dense, that the fears quickly became background noise.
I embraced the busyness.
“Hello Mr. New York!” Each excitable child would say and hold up their phone. “Please judge my work. Thank you!”
Their digital cakes would be forwarded to my ‘judge console’ — basically a waist height touch screen that let me inspect their make-believe confections.
It was up to me to grade their dessert, and decide which animation I would trigger on the big hologram in the middle of the showroom. If the kid’s cake was elaborate, and made with lots of rare flavors, then would play the hologram where Bakery Park’s pig mascot ‘Bu-chan’ feasts on their creation.
“Its delicioooooous!” the pig would sing, as I applauded the submission and transferred the award.
The children in the showroom would laugh and cheer, celebrating their friend who received a 3 star achievement.
However, if I received a newbie cake smeared with too much frosting, I would put on my best Simon Cowell frown and trigger an animation where Bu-chan made a joke
“Hmm… Reminds me of when I ate trash!” The hologram pig would wink and then eat only half of the kid’s cake.
The guests would still howl with laughter, which was good, because I didn't want to be dealing with mopey kids. They seemed to like getting roasted as much as they got praised. It was part of my strict ‘Mr. New York’ schtick. And although it is hard to admit, It actually became pretty fun.
However, there was one boy who was a real pain. He wore a baseball cap with a Pikachu on it.
After getting only one star, Pika-kid threw a tantrum, knocking over a trash can. “Not fair! Not fair! You're not even real! Just a terrible actor!”
I ignored these comments, and gave him the scores I thought he deserved, But then he re-lined up again and showed me the same plain strawberry frosting cake.
“Gimme three stars you phony! My mom says you're a stupid foreigner who doesn't belong here anyway.”
I stayed in character and said, “Gomen'na, bōya. Mainichi hareru wake janai nda” Sorry kid, the sun can't shine everyday.
Then his 12-year-old foot kicked me right in the shin. Surprisingly hard.
I stumbled back and tried to regain my composure. I was sorting through the most assertive (and age appropriate) scold I could say in Japanese, when a loud rumbling came from the floor.
The six children in line all screamed and hugged the wall. The Pika-kid stared in awe as the LEDs turned on again. A dizzying swirl of pixels slowly formed Bu-chan.
The cartoon pig appeared with furrowed brows and raised hackles. Red light shot out of his eyes and mouth, giving him the appearance of a demonic jack-o'-lantern.
“Didn’t your parents teach you manners? The hologram squealed and pointed. “Your cake isn't GOOD ENOUGH!”
A bolt of electricity shot out from the pig’s gloved hand, and struck the Pika-kid’s hat. It caught fire.
The boy screamed bloody murder, tossed his hat, and scrambled out the entrance door with the rest of the children.
I likewise tried to run like a coward, but I tripped on my over-sized chef apron.
Shit.
Before I could speed-crawl away. The entrance door sealed shut on its own. The children had escaped, but I was trapped inside.
“No no no…”
When I looked back at Bu-chan, I could see Mashumaro had materialized now as well, floating with his signature smile. The Tanuki wrapped his arm around the snorting pig like they were the best of friends.
“Why Hello James Naka, employee#604373. Glad to see you are enjoying your work.”
I stood up and ran towards the locked door, slamming it over and over with my fists.
I should have known some crazy shit was bound to happen again. I was deluded by three hours of normalcy and my own wishful thinking.
“No need to run James. We’re not going to hurt you.” Mashumaro’s eyes were black holes staring right through me. “You’ve been doing so well—awarding all the hardest-working, smartest youngsters with correct scores.”
The Confection Showroom had a circular walkway around the light panel center. Although the holograms should have been relegated to the center, somehow the mascots were floating past the LEDs and over the railing.
Mashumaro floated up to my right. His entire body blocking the walkway. Likewise, Bu-chan came down to my left, blocking that path as well.
“I’ve agreed with all of your awards.” Bu-chan patted his belly, it squished like a ball of dough. “It makes my belly feel good.”
Mashumaro chuckled. “I’m so happy when my friend is happy. And when I’m happy, my friend is happy. A good system don't you think?”
Both of them approached like they were toying with a mouse. I held out my hands in pitiful defence.
“Please. Let me go.”
Mashumaro nodded. “If you keep helping us. I’ll make sure Aiko gets returned to you safe and sound.”
My legs buckled at the sound of my girlfriend's name.
“That's right James,” the tanuki grinned. “Aiko will be released.”
I think my heart missed four beats. “Released?”
“But first you must choose the daily suuuuuper winner.” Bu-chan bounced off his own bottom with a squeal.
“Indeed. You must award a child four stars,” Mashumaro pointed at me. “Pick the cleverest cake maker of all.”
They were floating uncomfortably close. I could see the translucence of their pixelated skin, and parts of the showroom behind them. From what I could tell, they were still holograms, but I didn't feel safe running through them.
“Okay. Okay. I’ll do it.” I shut my eyes, willing the nightmare to go away.
I brought my hands over my eyes to further shield myself, and that's when I felt the warm wet spots on my cheeks. How long had I been crying?
I must have stood there in darkness, like a child holding bed covers over their face, for over five minutes before I found enough courage to peek between my fingers.
When I did, the pig and tanuki were gone.
The entrance door was opened.
***
Outside, the terrified kids were wrangled by nearby staff.
They were taken to a playroom where they were showered with distractions and games. Their parents were awarded several free day passes to apologize for the ‘special malfunction’ at the new attraction.
I spoke to no one and bolted back to the employee welcome center. I was over being traumatized. After seeing a kid’s head almost get fried, I had to get word out that something was fucked.
My supervisor was at his desk doing paperwork. Out of all the staff at Bakery Park, I trusted him the most. He was the only one to commend me, and call me brave for being the only Westerner to work at such an obscure Japanese place. He had always liked that Aiko had brought me here.
“Usami-san, I’m sorry to barge in," I said while literally barging in, " but there's a hacker at this theme park. He’s hijacked the electronics at the Confection Showroom. He almost killed a kid!”
“Naka-san, please don't yell. Come in.”
I entered his tiny office, and he shut the translucent door. Several employees at the center looked through the glass, they could see I was freaking out.
I didn't care. I wanted everyone to hear me.
“It's the second time I’ve been in the showroom where some awful, terrorist entity shut the doors and tried to lock me in,” I said. “ It's not safe in there!”
“Terrorist entity?” Usami-san put his papers away. “What do you mean?”
“Someone has infiltrated systems around the park, and—well not even just the park—I’ve even gotten threats via Bakery Park Hunt!”
I opened the official app on my phone. I left it open on his desk, hoping that maybe the corrupted Mashumaro would send something.
“I’ve gotten messages here where the hacker has insinuated that he’s kidnapped kids on this island. He’s even said that he’s got Aiko captured somewhere. Aiko Agatsuma! One of your employees is in danger!”
“Woah woah, now slow down. I spoke to Aiko earlier today. She's in Shimado.”
“What…?”
His eyes were calm, unbelieving my incredulity. I hadn't received any texts from Aiko since the morning.
“You spoke to her?” I asked. “What did she say?”
“She told me what you said in the morning. That she took a medical helicopter to the mainland hospital. And that she'll return by ferry tomorrow.”
I didn't know how that was possible. Did Aiko actually call him? Did someone mimicking Aiko’s voice call him?
“She told me she was escorting the child you rescued in the forest yesterday.”
This yarn of confusion was ...
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