“Before we begin the lecture, I want to direct everyone to the bold text at the top of your syllabus. And if you haven’t been able to print it off from my website yet, you can just read off the screen. All students will be required to spend at least twenty hours as ‘anime girls’ for full class credit.” 

I’d noticed the bold text before. I felt a shiver reading it again. I could hear some titters from the back of the room. Professor Brandt, who was sixty miles away from us, connected via video conference, could hear those titters through the live mic in the ceiling. She pushed her narrow, black-rimmed glasses up a bit and continued, “Now, I have listed alternative assignments for some of the course requirements but, really, the class is geared towards personal accounts and research. There’s really no class like this and some of it may feel outside your comfort zone but I believe anthropology requires the researcher take themselves outside of their familiar cultural experience. The first term I want to mention is participant observation…”

Immediately, the laptop keys around me started to click and pens went down on paper. I jotted a few things down on my syllabus because it was all I had in front of me. I would copy it to proper notes later. My eyes kept drifting back to the bold text. Still gave me the shivers.

The projector showed the front of the main campus lecture room where Professor Brandt was with about thirty, unseen students. The LCD screen to the side showed the first page of the syllabus. The screens at the back of the room showed the same thing. Despite the cold afternoon outside, the room felt stuffy because every seat was filled.  

This was the smallest of the video conference rooms on campus. We referred to it as the “padded room” because of the noise-canceling, white junk stuck to the walls. Most of the chairs were plastic, rigid-backed blue ones which looked like enlarged preschool chairs from decades ago and felt like sitting in ice, which wasn’t bad at the moment. A few chairs with plush cushions were set aside for those who needed them, but they felt like someone had tried and failed to make a generic office chair look friendly. They also itched like crazy.

The speakers were white boxes which hissed menacingly whenever the professor wasn’t talking. The most advanced piece of technology was the main camera, a black rectangle with twin, glossy eyes which could swivel and track students as they asked questions. Of course, it didn’t do that because the microphones left behind on the tables weren’t plugged in anymore, replaced by a single, super-sensitive mic which listened to everything and everyone and blasted it out as a raging cacophony to the other side whenever time came for discussion. I’d had a few of my early classes in this room before and the experience ranged from annoying to outright frustrating.

But all those concerns drifted away as Professor Brandt began her lecture in earnest.

“I will assume everyone here has a passing knowledge of what happened in early 2004. There is some scholarly and public debate about exact dates but the generally-accepted one is around March 24th. That won’t be on any tests, so don’t worry….”

I was in junior high when it happened, people appearing in the world who looked like living artwork, specifically like female characters depicted in Japanese, animated programs. The first appearances were around Tokyo, so it didn’t trigger that much alarm. Most figured they were actresses in good costumes promoting some new show. 

It wasn’t till they appeared in major metropolitan areas all over the world that it made the news. Those were crazy days. Class was cancelled and some regions declared martial law until the “arrivals” could be better understood. Professor Brandt outlined all this in passing but focused on the violent protests, connecting them to other eras of social unrest. 

“I’m sure it’s still fresh in our minds. Nothing like it had ever occurred. Probably the closest parallel one could imagine might be the landing of European settlers and explorers on the North American continent. This analogy was one which came up with fearful overtones in the days and weeks after the first arrivals. Fear of conquest, fear of illness, fear of the unknown. For some time, regretfully, fear ruled.”

I could tell she was alluding to what happened in Piedmont. I didn’t want to think about it. But the images were everywhere. Two of the girls were caught on a surveillance camera outside a convenience store. They would later say they were hiking (they had animated-style gear with them). All it took was one man with a history of mental illness and a shotgun in his truck. I never knew blood could be so bright red.

Somehow, they both survived the attack. The images of terror, of human suffering, struck through a wall of separation. The day before, they could’ve been colorful aliens from another planet (a theory some people held). After that, opinions changed. 

Despite the terrible thing which happened then, there was no retaliation like some worried. The girls appeared less for a while and many incidents were defused by the fact they could just vanish away, apparently back to their world.

Slowly, they started to appear again, each sighting heralded with sympathy and careful regard. Local governments offered protection for “visitors” but were often refused. Professor Brandt brought up little bits of history but mostly I was waiting for the next part. For the first ambassador from the other side. 

She arrived with some fanfare because there had been a letter delivered that an ambassador was coming. All the news stations were fixed on the event and the Internet was livestreaming all over the place. She just gave her name as “Olivia”.

Professor Brandt remarked on the choice of the Geneva office of the United Nations as the first stop by “Olivia”, noting, “An impromptu office for inter-dimensional affairs had to be established, growing out of the office which expected the first beings not from our Earth to come from space.”

It was really at this point that the first details of the visiting girls were made available to the public through “Olivia”. Professor Brandt even played a video clip of one of her first recorded speeches. I’d seen it live.

What struck me at the time was how much detail you could see in her long, river-like cobalt hair which flowed past her back and her olive-tinted eyes which took up so much of her face. When her mouth moved to speak, it looked human, only much simpler. Her voice was bigger than one would expect from someone barely five feet tall. 

“Greetings. I bring a message of peace and friendship for everyone of this world. I, and others like me, come from a sister world beside yours in the same space but a different dimension. We discovered the ability to shift between the dimensions which isolate worlds. We visited quietly at first, simply out of curiosity towards a world like nothing we had seen before. We did not mean to disrupt your world and we apologize for any chaos our curiosity has caused. I was selected as a representative to best speak for my world. I hope you all may receive my message and understand our peaceful intent.”

The message was first given in English (which was a matter of debate and some controversy for a while). After this point, “Olivia” then translated the message into the major languages of the world, beginning with Standard Chinese and finishing with Tagalog after employing more than two dozen different languages to recite the same opening. “Olivia” then offered to provide further translations in whatever languages were desired (after given enough time for an accurate translation).

She didn’t take questions, though plenty were yelled at her by reporters. She did take some time to pose for pictures with representatives of the United Nations. 

Professor Brandt soon got to the core of the matter, noting, “She did take questions later. Some of them were answered. I have a list on the following slide.”

With a click, she brought up a text list with many of the details which we learned about “Olivia” and others like her in those early days. Their kind didn’t really call themselves anything except ‘Kinrae’, which had the same context as ‘kin’ or ‘kindred’. But they didn’t mind if people called them other things like ‘colorful girls’ or ‘anime girls’. “Olivia” even quipped, “I’ve been called cute a few times already and I have absolutely no issues with that.”

The term ‘Kinrae’ was something Professor Brandt lingered on, explaining, “Because it was one of the first observed terms they used themselves, in most scholarly writing about these visitors, the term Kinrae is often used as a name for them and a distinguishing tool. So, where I’ve written ‘anime girls’ or any other terms, you can use the word ‘Kinrae’, especially for academic purposes.”

Past the big, bolded term Kinrae, there were a few details gleaned in those days. They didn’t give a name to their place of origin but did mention there were many divisions of it, like the world had nations and regions. There were also fewer deserts and less variations in climate.  

And then the rest of the slide was revealed to be blank. Professor Brandt gave a slight smile as she explained, “Of course, there are those who have spoken to visiting Kinrae and gotten bits of stories and details about creativity and art. But they all seem far more curious about our cultures and learning about them. Some have come to refer to them as an absent culture because of how little we know about their beliefs, their traditions, their languages, or pretty much anything of cultural significance despite nine years of concerted effort by academics.”

There were some light comments from the other students. Brandt continued, “So, don’t feel any pressure if your observations don’t yield anything new. You’re not the only ones. There are a series of books which I consider foremost on the hunt for more information. I only have one of them as required reading but the rest are on reserve to help you think about what kind of focus you want to take with your observation write-ups over the course of this class.”

And then it was into full-on syllabus expectations mode like any other class. I took out the highlighter for all the deadlines. I also marked that we would be receiving the imitation devices in three weeks. There was a disclaimer page and apparently further paperwork to be signed on the professor’s website before we could even look at the devices. 

After “Olivia’s” worldwide tour, there were some treaties signed. Recognition of the girls as representing a political entity. Emergency documentation for temporary stays. Some governments (especially Japan and the Philippines) waved special documentation as an incentive to visitors. Like “Olivia”, many of the Kinrae visitors showed a swift aptitude for learning languages. 

Plenty of troublesome incidents played out all over the world. Certain nations and regions banned the strange visitors. In turn, the Kinrae left them alone. 

For those governments which signed treaties, they did share certain tidbits of information, like special technology in the form of the imitation devices. 

How they worked took many papers and examinations and reconsiderations of the law of the conservation of mass, even with the help of several eager Kinrae who were apparently just as mystified by the devices themselves. 

But from the study came recent discoveries about information storage in relation to quantum states and a bunch of other things my physics major friend, Ryan, spoke about breathlessly. All I knew was that most agreed the devices were harmless (though some claimed they were an insidious invasion tool), despite the effect of making the person who wore one look almost exactly like a Kinrae. 

As class seemed to be winding down, the Professor took some time to have us all introduce ourselves to one another, talk about our major, and why we wanted to take this class. Pretty standard stuff for most classes but I could tell by the looks my classmates were giving each other that the subject which caused titters before had reduced the room to guarded silence.

I took the initiative and cleared my throat near the microphone. All eyes turned to me. I gave a faint smile as the Professor acknowledged me.

Speaking across the disconcerting distance of the medium, I said, “My name is Sean Kurtz. I’m a liberal arts major. Mostly. I dunno. It’s still early enough I may double major. I’m a glutton for college.”

That earned some friendly laughs from the other side and a nod from the Professor as she then encouraged, “And why did you decide to take this class?”

Not needing a breath to steel myself, I said, “Because I’ve always wondered what it would be like to be an anime girl. Might be fun. Outside my experience. Who knows what you might learn?”

The Professor gave an approving nod as I leaned back in that painfully cold and uncomfortable chair. I could tell many of my classmates were staring. And I figured the banging sound I heard when I finished was my friend, Lissa, in the back banging her head against her desk.

None of the other answers were as direct as mine. Most involved cultural curiosity, a frank admission that it covered part of their core requirements, a chance to study a dynamic culture, and various statements to that effect.

I was really hoping Lissa would one-up my statement. She said, “Melissa Cohen. I’m a psychology major and I’m taking this class because... oh, why the hell not?”

I snickered, and she clarified that it seemed like it would be “enjoyable”. 

After introductions and the suggestion to find some peers to collect information from in case of absences or to form outside study groups, we were essentially dismissed. I concentrated on the row where I was sitting. I met Julie Lake, a local high school substitute with long blond hair and wide glasses; Elizabeth Mendoza, a humanities transfer student from the Philippines who looked like an anime girl already with her pitch-black hair, petite size, and wide eyes; and Jeff Ross, a stocky sociology student with a dusty-orange goatee, close-cropped hair, and a quirky smile.

They all seemed nice. I tried to stick their names in my mind as Julie, Eliza, and Jeff but figured I would be blanking on their names throughout the class. No fault of theirs. Just my lousy memory for names. I’d had another video chat professor make everyone create name cards to place in front of themselves but the video quality from the camera rendered them useless. 

Lissa strolled over to my area as the row in front was emptying. She tried to nonchalantly plant herself on the edge of the table but only succeeded in flailing wildly and tumbling to the carpet, which had may have once been a nice shade of green but not anymore.  

She slapped an arm out like a drowning person and lifted her head level with the table. She took a breath and softly said, “Hey.” I answered back the same and looked calmly at her. Slowly, she slipped into the chair in front of me and stretched. 

She was dressed in a dark, checkerboard flannel top with fuzzy jeans. Her short, auburn hair curled and twisted just past her ears, completing the impression that she’d just recently hopped out of bed. Not that I was one to talk.

Before I started packing up to leave, Lissa held out a green, plastic container half-full of tropical fruit and a small, plastic fork. I picked out a few kiwis, mangos, and pineapples before passing it back to her. She stuffed the biggest papaya in her mouth. I searched for a place for my annotated syllabus between a notebook and another class’s textbook. I could’ve placed it in the main folder but that was already stuffed and disorganized. 

In the end, I just folded it in half and hoped it would survive. Lissa held a bit of guava up and said, “I can’t believe this is the only class we both have this time. Let me see your schedule.”

I passed her a piece of paper which looked like a dog had taken a violent interest in it. She gave me a look and unfurled it like an ancient treasure map. She made a little groan and noted, “Haskins? Really? I tried to get Haskins, but his class was closed. Drat. Got stuck with Rossi.” Then she gave a glance towards the overhead mic and lowered her voice, saying, “She’s a human Ambien…”

I informed her, “Actually there were several drops, so you might be able to get in if you want to switch.” Lissa rocked her head a few times and passed the paper back to me, replying, “I would, but Rossi is early and my only class that day. So, I get to go home early…”

I nodded. Naturally, I had to ask, “How’s Quilla?”

Lissa gave a warm, serene smile to herself, finished the fruit, and answered, “Absolutely terrified of saltshakers now. Old Doctor Who serials and my storybook version of slugs and salt. When I finally get some free time I want to turn that platform of hers in the backyard tree into a pirate ship crow’s nest with a working cannon so she can declare war on a salt mine.”

The room was only about half-full now. I slipped my bag across my shoulder and Lissa put her empty container away as I answered, “Sounds fun.”

She brushed at her hair a bit. “You should come around more often. We miss those Thursday game and movie nights.” 

I held my tongue for a long moment. Lissa noticed, adding, “Michael moved to San Pedro just before Christmas. So, it’s just us. I will provide free, homemade burgers if necessary. Maybe call it study-buddy time again too? Come oooonnnn….”

She even threw in a frownie face at the end. I had to smile and tell her, “Sure. But only for the burgers.”

Smirking, she noted, “I knew that would work.” By now, the room was empty except for someone in the back who had to pack up three bags. 

The classroom was at the back of the main building, past several larger and nicer conference rooms with the same uncomfortable chairs. At the building junction there were several vending machines for drinks, coffee, and snacks. I lingered a moment as Lissa pulled out her phone. But, especially seasoned by age through the holiday, there was no way I was going to sample petrified Cheetos. 

Lissa and I parted there with my promise to come by her place on Thursday. I’d head over to the sandwich shop in the shopping center across from campus for something resembling a meal before my later class. 

I thought it would’ve been apt if I happened to run into an anime girl right at that moment. Some little smirk from the great randomness of the universe. The shop was full of plenty of humans but no Kinrae. I fished my phone out of my bag and decided to check on the shipping status of my text for the class. 

It was a big one and the title was word soup. It was an account of different human reactions to the Kinrae, the ‘enclaves’ they formed, where they integrated into human communities, and comparisons to past and present human cultural systems. In fact, that description was probably not far from the full, actual title. 

The suggested readings ranged from a dictionary (which made me roll my eyes), to a guide of broad anthropological and Kinrae-related terms (which I could I find anywhere on the Internet), and a style guide for ASA and APA (ditto). Aside from that, the rest of the texts would be academic studies we’d have to print out on our own. A few students towards the front of the room had oversized folders filled with them, containing tabbed sections for each study. They also had prolifically highlighted textbooks with margin notes. Considering the name of the text was first mentioned three days ago in an email by Professor Brandt, I found that rather bewildering. 

I ordered a club sub as a wrap and a soda and took a table by the window facing the parking lot. As I chewed, I pondered whether to head back to the house or hang around until class. By chance, I glanced out the window towards the video game store next to the coffee place. A Kinrae was peering in the game store window. She turned in my direction and looked around. 

She was short but not too much shorter than Lissa. She had on warm boots with woolen trim, black leggings, and a tan pleated shirt which fell past her knees. Her top was long-sleeved with white dots and the color of heavy rain clouds. A faded-pink scarf engulfed her neck. Her hair was a rather normal shade of dark brown, long and tied into braids on each shoulder. Her massive eyes were close in color to her top but a shade bluer. Sketchy lashes shaded her eyes. Patches of rosy color tinted the underside of her eyes and her slight nose, probably from the chill in the air. She rubbed her hands together a moment and strolled towards the florist shop nearer to where I was sitting.

Part of me felt a little embarrassed to be watching her like this but I could tell others were watching too. The Kinrae weren’t exactly rare but seeing one in this area wasn’t as common as in the bigger cities to the south. Blushing, I could tell myself it was just class research. 

She was what one might call a ‘watercolor’ Kinrae. There were those who tried to tease out races and divisions of Kinrae, but they never gave clear answers to those questions. If you looked at her from the side and didn’t focus on her eyes, then it was hard to tell she wasn’t just a normal human with odd-looking clothes. 

She lingered a long moment at the window of the florist shop before a little girl in a red coat rushed over to her from the other side of the parking lot. A woman, who I assumed to be her mother, hurried right behind her. The little girl stopped a few feet away from the Kinrae and stared. 

The Kinrae turned to her and the little girl staggered back. With a pencil-thin smile, she gave a slow wave of her hand and crouched. The little girl clung to the side of a car and peered just over top of it. She couldn’t be more than five or six. To think, she never lived in a world without the Kinrae. 

Swiftly, the woman clutched the little girl and spoke closely to her. I couldn’t make out any of it but soon the woman was speaking to the Kinrae, who waved her hands and smiled in what seemed like an apologetic manner. The little girl seemed to say something else and then the Kinrae motioned for her to come closer. Carefully, cautiously, the little girl touched her on the cheek and put her hand to her hair. All the while, the Kinrae kept a pleasant expression. When her inspection was done, the little girl hurried back to the woman and they both parted company from the Kinrae, who gave a friendly wave after.

I wished to myself I wasn’t at the beginning of eating a wrap. I wished I could just hop outside and say a hello. Although I couldn’t imagine what words would come after that. In the more than a handful of times I’d been this close to one of them, I’d only watched. A few of them seemed to notice me looking but no words were exchanged between us. I took a long sip and glanced around. The few people who had been looking had returned to their business. One person had their phone out and may have taken a picture through the window. 

As for the Kinrae, she was still by the florist. After another minute, she stepped inside, and I went back to eating. Only then did I notice there were other people outside who had stopped in place to observe the girl. A few made casual strolls by the florist but didn’t go inside. I could only wonder what she was doing. I told myself, if she was still around when I was done then…something…. 

I ate swiftly but not too fast because I didn’t want to feel bloated. So far as I could see looking up from my meal, she hadn’t left the florist yet.   

I hustled out but tried not to make my exit seem too hurried. I would have to pass at least near to the florist on my way out anyway. I took a breath and clutched my school bag. Didn’t want to walk too quickly and pass her by. I still couldn’t tell if I’d missed her leaving or not. 

I stared ahead at the window, trying to tease out some details through the glass. I was so focused on the window that I didn’t notice the glass door opening too close beside me. I had a split second too short to respond to a collision.

Immediately, I got leveled. In my life, I’ve only run into people a few times. But the one time which stuck most in my mind was a high school softball game with a horribly mismatched team of leftovers I wound up in against a team of varsity sports guys. I managed to get on first base but made a bad decision to run for second on a lousy hit. I got slammed by the six foot plus, muscular player on second, spun around, and crashed on my back in the dirt. The world froze like a video tape on pause. Minor concussion. And the last time I would bother with sports. 

I got luckier this time. I only got slammed into the car beside the door and my bag cushioned much of the fall. It still wasn’t pleasant, but my vision didn’t freeze. Collecting myself, I looked up to see the Kinrae standing with her hands cupping her mouth. She hadn’t even been knocked on her heels.

It was then I recalled a quirk of the Kinrae. A matter of mass. It wasn’t the only thing about the Kinrae to attract the interest of physicists. But, basically, an anime girl who had recently passed from their universe to ours seemed to contain a higher than expected mass. It led to the short-lived joke, “the depleted uranium girls”.

Trying to get back on my feet, the girl reached out a hand to help me. Her hand was so soft, and the touch made me flinch a moment. Once back on my feet, I brushed myself off and gave a glance towards her. She apologized immediately, saying, “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” Her eyes seemed to twinkle with a blend of the beginning of tears and a shiver of concern. It was heartbreaking to see.

I had to take a deep breath before I could stammer/reassure her, “I-It’s okay. Fine. I’m fine. All fine. Okay.” This seemed to relax her a little. I noticed she had a bouquet of blue flowers in a bag on her shoulder. Since all the words I could say to her had vanished, I improvised by pointing out her flowers were “very pretty”. She touched the bag with a lined smile and bowed her head slightly before adding, “You’re sure you’re okay?”

Call it a bit of pride, but even if I had been banged up I wasn’t going to admit it to her on the chance it might make her feel bad. I just told her, “It was all my fault. I’m sorry I was standing there.” And then a little mental voice wanted to say more about why I was standing there. But if that mental voice were a little person, I could easily imagine the rest of my consciousness grabbing him by the throat and dragging him away before he thought of anything else like that to say. Instead, I just nodded and told her, “And I hope you have a nice afternoon. Sorry again.”

She gave a curious little look and then returned to her smile, wider than before as she told me, “Thank you. You have a nice one too and please be careful.” She emphasized her message with a pat on my head.

The touch sent a little shiver through me and I had to avoid flinching. She lingered in the area, but I did my best not to get in her way. She eventually approached a small, used bookstore towards the back but I had to get ready for my next class.