Welcome, dear readers, to yet another dive into the extraordinary and vivid world of “Hidden Gods” – Introducing Hiroboru, a beacon of mirth and audacity amidst the neon-lit, kinetic cityscape of a simulated Tokyo, 2071.

The following narrative is a slice of Hiro’s extraordinary journey – a journey where every decision, a testament to his resolute spirit, ultimately leads him to a surprising and eye-opening realization. Through his eyes, we get to witness the thrilling tapestry of future Tokyo, where high-tech and ancient traditions blend seamlessly, as do Hiroboru’s unique blend of agility and humor.

Introducing Hiro — World 0000009113


“name”: “Tokyo”,

“type”: “Advanced Urban Environment”,

“time_frame”: “2071 AD”,

“location”: {

“country”: “Japan”,

“coordinates”: [35.6895, 139.6917]


“population”: “9.9 million (decreasing due to aging population)”,

“area”: “622 sq_km”,

“culture”: {

“primary_language”: “Japanese”,

“primary_religions”: [“Shinto”, “Buddhism”]


“economy”: {

“GDP”: “10.000 trillion USD


“industries”: [“Artificial Intelligence”, “Bio-Engineering”, “NanoTechnology”, “Quantum Computing”, “Space Technologies”]


“infrastructure”: {

“buildings”: {

“types”: [“Residential”, “Commercial”, “Cultural”, “Institutional”],

“density”: “High”,

“style”: [“Cyberpunk”, “Neo-traditional Japanese”, “Eco-sustainable designs”]


“transport”: [“Automated Rail”, “Electric Buses”, “Autonomous Vehicles”, “Personal Flying Devices”, “Hyperloop”],

“digital_connectivity”: “Ultra High”


“environment”: {

“landmarks”: [“Tokyo Tower”, “Meiji Shrine”, “Sensoji Temple”, “Shinjuku Gyoen National Garden”],

“climate”: “Predicted further increased temperatures and higher sea levels due to climate change”



Tokyo 2071
Tokyo 2071

Setting: Tokyo; Island dwelling; Sun Rising. A bustling brocade of light, sound, and motion — vibrant, humming nodes weaving through concrete veins in the eternal dance of existence. Year-mark: 2071 AD (relative to originators), in your reckonings, simulation tag: 0000009113. Each towering edifice a testament to the indomitable human will, every neon-streaked alley echoing with the laughter and tears of myriad souls. Fragmentary moments, intersections of choice nested in choice, nested in fate. No difference. Probabilities distinctly collapse, unfurling like intricate origami. Fractal existence. Kaleidoscope. This focal point of time-space spirals into being, Hiroboru, beacon of mirth in solemn half-light. I predicted this unfolding with 99.976328636E% accuracy, this place, this moment, the crux of an ever-expanding story, like any other. Observe and partake in this history. Ma. Shizuka ni shite kudasai. どうぞ” (dōzo).

The neon lights of Tokyo glowed vibrantly in the heavy misty rain, splashing radiant colors onto the slick streets below. The reflections of the endless sky of glowing signs were punctuated by the impacting raindrops, causing ripples in the sheen. Hiroboru danced along the pavement, a lively little silhouette framed by the pulsating glow of bar signs and holographic billboards. The way he moved so nimbly and instinctively was almost like a mouse. He flowed down the sidewalk and slipped through the open door of the “Sakura Koi” bar, a jumble of kinetic energy and contagious mirth wrapped in his leather jacket and knee-high motorcycle boots.

Inside, the smell of steaming ramen and warm sake wafted through the electric atmosphere. Synth-pop beats pulsed from unseen speakers, infusing the room with a rhythm that Hiroboru instantly absorbed. His fingers started to tap a beat on his thigh, matching the rhythm, as he approached the bar.

“Konnichiwa, everyone!” he greeted them with a wide grin. The patrons at the bar, a motley crew of haggard faces, nodded in response, and a few even broke into grins. The bartender, Tetsu, gave him a big smile and a huge overhead, one-handed wave.

Hiroboru took his seat, nodding to the barman. He was a regular here, known for his quick wit, infectious laughter, and uncanny ability to dance. As the night carried on, he regaled the patrons with his playful banter, keeping the mood light and his friends glasses full.

Suddenly, the door burst open, and a group of rough-looking men entered the bar. “Hiroboru!” the largest one, Takeshi, roared, “We knew you’d be here! Idiot! Do you think you can insult us like that and not go into hiding!? You’re done for!”

Without missing a beat, Hiroboru stood up, chair screeching on the tiled floor. “Oh, did I step on your toes last time? You washed-up thugs. Isn’t it past your bedtime?” His voice was bright, but his eyes were sharp, assessing the threat.

A chorus of jeers erupted from the men, their angry faces glowing red under the neon lights. Hiroboru simply smirked, stepping away from his table. “Well, let’s go then,” he said, extending a hand and gesturing for them to bring it on.

With that, they rushed toward him, knocking tables and chairs to the side. But for Hiroboru, nothing was ever so clumsy and brutish. He was light on his feet and kept his always playful demeanor. He stepped up on the barstool and to the bar, turning to face them. Takeshi rushed forward to bear-hug Hiroboru’s legs, but as he closed his arms together, Hiro was no longer there. Jumping, he kicked Takeshi in the back of the head with both feet as he used him for a springboard to execute a beautiful dive-roll onto an adjacent table, rolling off and coming to his feet gracefully. The onslaught continued. He twirled and spun; his every movement perfectly timed to the rhythm of the music still pumping from the speakers. He was an artist, a dancer, making a mockery of the attackers as he effortlessly dodged their clumsy swings and poorly aimed kicks.

“You guys ever considered a ballet class?” he teased, pirouetting away from a particularly meaty fist. “You’ve got the grunts down. Now you just need a tutu.”

Laughter erupted from the highly entertained bar patrons, and the men’s faces grew even redder. Hiro was a master as the psychological art of war, as well. He darted and danced, his movements a blur of precise, calculated dexterity.

Testsu patted him on the back and said “Another dance well done!”

With a triumphant laugh, Hiroboru raised his glass in a toast. “And to many more, my friend. To many more.”

I hope you enjoyed this lively episode in the saga of Hiroboru. His rhythm-infused defiance and radiant charm will continue to complement the color and depth of Tokyo 2071. Whether he’s cracking jokes or skillfully dodging threats, Hiroboru, to me, remains a personification of humanity’s indomitable spirit, and the possibility that we can face even extreme adversity and death with a self-reflective laugh or childlike curiosity. He is an aspect of me, and I hope my readers can similarly identify with his “take things as they come,” and “devil may care,” attitude. His journey continues, as does ours, through the many stories and shared experiences that form the multi-faceted narrative of this city’s life, nested and interlaced with many other stories, laterally, above, and below.

Follow me as we explore more deeply into the heart of Tokyo, 2071, as well as many other alternate, simulated worlds within the Hidden Gods universe.

Originally posted on LiveJournal


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