Koji Suzuki - Edge

“One last question. The wormhole at the Fujimura residence … Will that lead to a different past?” He felt he already knew the answer, but had to ask nonetheless.

“Same world would be unlikely. You know, if you define life as a collection of information, there’s a chance that crossing a wormhole could simply cause a system reset.”

“A system reset?”

“In other words, there’s even a chance that we could be reborn as different people.”

Isogai’s words washed over him. He would never be able to see Saeko again. They would never have the chance to work together, to travel together. They would never again be able to relate stories to each other. Even if they both survived, they would be in different worlds. They would, in all respects, be dead to each other. A few silent tears ran down his cheeks.

After an hour or so of waiting, people began to filter in to the park. The flow began to accelerate as groups of people started to come up the paths. Each time a new one appeared, the number of people that no one knew seemed to increase. Kagayama, Kato, and Hosokawa had already stopped rushing to greet the new arrivals and looked bewildered. After two hours, Hashiba’s wife arrived with his son, Yusuke. The new arrivals continued, and at this rate they would have over a hundred people. Isogai was becoming increasingly frustrated and voiced accusations freely.

Hashiba felt unable to account for what was happening and sat cradling his head in his hands. He had clearly told Kagayama and the rest only to call their immediate family, and now even they didn’t know half of the people that had turned up. Maybe he hadn’t been clear enough and should have given instructions for the families not to call anyone else. It was increasingly evident that the people they had called had called others and that the circle had spiraled outwards. The question was whether or not the flow of new arrivals would reach an endpoint. All Hashiba could do now was to ask the people already there not to call anyone else, then just sit back and hope.

The more people arrived, the more Hashiba felt a dilution of his sense of responsibility towards the past. During his conversation with Isogai, he realized that they would have to prepare themselves to shoulder god-like responsibilities. Now it felt like the simple purity of that purpose was being soiled. He stood helpless, looking around at the faces of those gathered. Then it struck him:

These people don’t actually believe that the world is going to end .

Their features held none of the despair, the pathos, the fear that he would have expected to see. Most of the crowd looked, in fact, like they were just out to have some fun, tourists at some spectacle, relaxed and carefree. There had been so many false calls of the end of the world throughout the course of history, and it had been no different at the end of the twentieth century. Of course the doomsday talk had all been unfounded, and everything had just continued as normal. These people had heard the same stories many times, and each time nothing had happened. For them this was just a party, “prophecy tourism.” That was what the atmosphere in the park was changing into, a big mock end-of-the-world party. Hashiba couldn’t stand the flippancy.

Isogai exploded again. “Shut the hell up! Can’t someone do something about this racket?!” He kicked at the ground in frustration and turned to look away. He was trembling, but it looked to Hashiba that it was out of fear, not anger.

“What is it, Isogai?” Hashiba asked.

Isogai answered without turning around. “I just have this really bad feeling. That all this is just tempting fate. We’re going to be punished. A terrible punishment …”

He looked helpless, passive. Suddenly he called to Chris, walking over to where he sat, taking his hand in his own. His fear was not of the phase transition itself, but of something else. He didn’t seem willing to share his thoughts.

“Are you worried that there are too many people to get through the wormhole? That something terrible is going to happen because of that?”

Isogai just shook his head, noncommittal. “I don’t know …”

“If you don’t know, why are you trembling like that?”

“Something we can’t predict is going to happen. Do you think that this … ruckus will lead to any good?”

Hashiba had to admit that he had a point. Most of these people were here to have fun — it was clear on their faces. They were not ready to play a role as gods in a new world. They looked more like members of a cult following some nonsensical creed.

He saw Isogai’s attention turn to a mixed group of people sitting on a bed of white rosemary plants. They were drinking beer and eating convenience-store sushi. Isogai’s face went blank, his emotion indiscernible. Then he ran over to where the group sat and kicked up their food.

“Stop it.” Hashiba ran over and grabbed his arms, locking them behind his back, just managing to keep the situation from turning violent. He slapped his hand against Isogai’s back to calm him down. He was breathing heavily. “You’ve got to control yourself. Acting like this will only make things worse.”

“Shut up! It’s over for us, this is the end …”

Hashiba called Chris over to help calm him down. After a while, the flow of people seemed to slow; the acceleration was well over its peak, and gradually the crowd grew quieter. A more serious mood seemed to have descended over the area. As the trickle of people came to a stop, Hashiba thought of the stars disappearing one by one in the night sky. By this time, Isogai seemed to have regained his sense of calm.

“So that’s the last of them, then.”

“Seems that way.”

The two surveyed the scene around them.

“How many people do you think there are?”

“Well …” Hashiba made a quick estimate in his head — probably about two hundred people.

“Have you noticed that it’s mostly women?”

It was true, there were clearly many more women than men gathered. He called Kato and Hosokawa and asked them to try and count the number of people; it would be important to know exactly how many of them there were. He wanted a name list if they had the time.

As Kato and Hosokawa were finishing up the headcount, Hashiba saw a single, overweight-looking man making his way up the hill. Even from a distance Hashiba recognized him as Kitazawa’s son, Toshiya. They had met before at Kitazawa’s office.

“Hashiba!” Toshiya called out, out of breath from the effort of climbing the hill. He crouched on the ground looking exhausted, and explained that he had heard everything from his father.

“You’re the last then, the 173rd,” Kato told him from where he sat. He stretched, tired from the effort of counting.

“The 173rd …”

“The number of people here.”

“One hundred seventy-three people, including me?”

Hashiba saw something cloud his features. He couldn’t be sure what it was. “Something wrong with that?”

Toshiya was still gasping for breath, and now his eyes darted this way and that. He was acting as though he had seen some sort of significance in the number, but he remained hesitant. Toshiya began to shake his head as though to say that whatever it was, it had nothing to do with him.

Saeko remembered how Seiji had looked her up and down, openly staring at her chest and her legs that first time they had met here. She had felt defenseless and disgusted as he had sized her up with those eyes; she had regretted wearing a skirt.

“Do you mind if I sit?”

She pulled out a chair from under the table and sat without waiting for his reply. The real reason she wanted to sit was that she felt completely drained both emotionally and physically. She positioned herself on the end of the chair and tried to think about how the situation was likely to unfold. If a wormhole appeared in the room here, they would both be transported to the same place. According to what Hashiba had said, that was likely to be sometime in the past. She couldn’t bear to think about living in a world without anyone she cared for, where the only person she knew was Seiji … The hairs on her arms prickled at the idea. It would be worse than being cast into a stinking pit full of squirming insects.