1:58 AM — The Hour When Screens Teach More Than They Want To
The Konbini smelled of burnt popcorn and prefabricated emotions. Miyu, Aoi, and I were in front of the television hanging in a corner, watching a cheap action movie where extras were destroyed like wet paper. On screen, the protagonist was eliminating criminals while spouting some nonsense about "justice."
"Ugh!" Miyu threw an M&M at the screen. "Seriously? Why did he crash a helicopter into a building to kill the bad guys? That's way too over the top! Besides, there were probably civilians too!"
"Over the top? It's cinema, Miyu-chan. Cinema awarded with golden statuettes and smiles from critics who've never seen real blood." Aoi nibbled a Pocky with boredom.
"If they showed a boob in that same scene," I said, pointing at the screen, "the movie would be +18, and groups of alarmed parents would protest with signs."
Miyu blinked, adjusting her glasses. "That's true! In one movie, they cut ten minutes just because a nipple was visible for two seconds. But this"—she pointed at the screen where the bodies dismembered by the helicopter were shown among the rubble—"passes as PG-13!"
"Hypocrisy in its purest form," Aoi snorted, jumping up to sit on the counter. "The industry says: 'Look, kids: brains can burst like balloons, but please, don't get excited over a girl! That's perverted.'"
A customer (a suited man, buying an action movie DVD) coughed nervously as he passed. Miyu pointed at him as living proof:
"Look! That man is buying an action movie. Do you think he'd be scandalized if he saw a JAV catalog?"
"JAV?" asked the man, red as blood. "I only watch real cinema!"
"Sure," I murmured. "Serious cinema where an extra screams while being run over by the protagonist of the moment. Very cinematic."
The man fled with his DVD. Aoi laughed, a sharp sound.
"The worst part isn't the violence," she said, swinging her legs. "It's that it's become normal. We watch a genocide on screen and ask for more popcorn. But if two people have sex... oh, careful! That's dirty and perverted!"
Miyu nodded enthusiastically.
"I remember something like that happening in a movie! They cut the scene where two girls kissed, but they left a scene where a Yakuza sliced a guy with a Katana."
"It's funny," I said, cleaning invisible stains from the counter. "You can show hundreds of ways to kill a person and it's 'entertainment.' But showing two people loving each other (even if it's through sex) is 'controversial.'"
"Exactly!" Aoi jumped off the counter, imitating a critic with a pompous voice. "'Violence explores the human condition; sex exploits morbid curiosity.' Nonsense. Both sell. But one makes you feel adrenaline; the other makes you feel dirty."
Miyu picked up a DVD from the shelf.
"Look at this: 'Special Edition: Scenes of a Sexual Nature Removed.' Why isn't there a 'Edition Without Violent Scenes'?"
"Because that doesn't sell, little ghost~," Aoi snatched the DVD. "Blood is comfortable. Sex... scares. Remember, we live in a world where a nipple on the internet is censored, but a corpse on the news is serious journalism."
There was a silence. On screen, the protagonist kissed a girl among the rubble of a destroyed city. Blood on their lips. Love in the middle of a massacre of nameless extras. Rating: suitable for 13 years old.
"Come to think of it..." Miyu sighed, collapsing into a chair. "The industry is changing. Now there are more series and movies with nude scenes and sex. Is that a good thing?"
"Of course not," Aoi interrupted, with a bitter smile. "Now sex is becoming the same thing—'fun,' 'exciting,' 'good.' But in the end, it's still merchandise. Like 'cinematic' violence."
"We're not defending sexual content, Miyu," I shrugged.
"We're not against generic action movies either," Aoi nodded, stealing another Pocky.
"Then...?"
"We're bored," I said, turning off the television with a sharp thud. "And criticizing the cheap morality of the film industry kills five minutes in this shitty shift. Like squashing cockroaches."
Miyu looked at the black screen, then at us.
"But... don't you care? That everything is so hypocritical?"
Aoi approached and tapped her on the forehead with a Pocky.
"Little ghost, in this Konbini, hypocrisy is the air we breathe." She pointed at the "Always Smiling for You" sign above our heads. "Do you see Hiroto smiling?"
"No..."
"Exactly. So relax. Next time you see a body explode on TV... get an ice cream. And if you see a boob, don't scream either. They're just pixels."
The first customer of the morning walked in at that moment. A boy about ten years old, pointing at a superhero action movie DVD.
"Mom, I want this!"
The mother paled.
"No! That's too violent! Let's buy..." She grabbed a romantic comedy DVD. "This is healthier."
Miyu, Aoi, and I exchanged glances. No comment was even needed.
Hypocrisy, like reheated coffee, was always served.
At 6 AM, while Miyu dozed against the drink fridge, Aoi whispered:
"Hey, Hiroto-kun... Do you think someday they'll show an orgasm with the same naturalness as a murder?"
"Probably not."
"How boring." She smiled, showing her shark teeth. "But in the meantime... we'll always have the Konbini."
And boredom.