Tash Aw - Map of the Invisible World

“There, Adam,” Johan said when they reached the top of the rocks. “There it is.”

Adam sat on the low, flat boulder beside him. He was out of breath from the climb, and his eyes took time to adjust to what lay before him: an immensity of darkness, flecked now and then with glimmers of light on the crests of waves. He had not expected the color of the sea, either, an inky blackness that matched the color of the night sky. He could not make out the horizon.

Johan put his arm around Adam’s shoulders. “We’ve done it. We always said we would see the sea one day. Together.”

Adam nodded. He pulled at Johan’s arm and Johan felt how small his hand was. “On the other side of the sea,” Adam whispered, “is that our new home?”

Johan did not answer.

“Our new home is far away, I guess,” said Adam, “all the way over there.”

“Yes,” said Johan at last. “Somewhere over there.”

“Really?” Johan felt the tug of Adam’s hand again, his quick shallow breaths that always came when he was excited, or scared. “We won’t be able to see the orphanage from over there, will we?”

“I don’t suppose so. The sea is very wide.”

“I don’t think I like it. The sea, I mean. It frightens me.”

Johan continued to stare into the distance. “It’s time to go now, Adam. You have to go to sleep and be up early tomorrow. Be a good boy. It’s a big day for you.”

“Okay.”

“You can find your way home. Don’t look back, just keep going until you’re at the orphanage, okay? I’ll be along soon, don’t worry.”

“Why don’t you come back too?”

“I just want to stay here for a while, look at the sea. I like it. Anyway, I’m older than you, remember?” He laughed and Adam felt better. “Go home and sleep. I’ll be back soon.”

Adam got up and began to pick his way between the rocks. He did not like being on his own, but he had always done what Johan told him to do, and Johan had never been wrong. He began to think that maybe he was silly to have been frightened by the sea. Johan was not frightened by the sea; Johan was not frightened of anything. Adam paused at the foot of the rocks. He had been silly to tell Johan that he was afraid of the sea; perhaps he would go back and sit with Johan and show that he was not so afraid after all. He would climb the rocks again, and they would sit together for a while, and then they would walk back to the orphanage and in the morning they would travel to their new home; there was nothing to be afraid of.

Johan was not there when Adam traced his way back to where they had been sitting. He looked down along the line of boulders, but there was no movement. Out to sea: Halfway along the wide, flat beach Johan was walking slowly toward the dark water, to the area where the sand was not light-colored but gray and wet from the outgoing tide. The shallows were scattered with rocks that protruded from the water like sea creatures emerging from the depths. Adam did not want to venture into the water; he was seized by the urge to call out to Johan. Don’t go there, Johan, don’t go there, he wanted to shout. But Johan was already too far away and the wind had picked up again and Adam knew Johan would not hear him.

Adam ran toward the sea. Suddenly he knew that Johan should not go into the water. “Johan!” he cried. He ran across the sand; tiny sharp things pricked his feet but he did not stop running. It was difficult to run in the thick sand. He slipped and fell. It did not hurt when he fell. At some point it turned damp and muddy and sticky underfoot and there were rocks everywhere. Still he did not stop running. Johan was far away now, wading in the shallows, the water up to his calves. Adam slipped on a rock. He felt it slice through the side of his foot like a sharp, thin blade but it did not hurt. The sand turned to mud, and he could not run quickly. Johan . He looked ahead but Johan did not turn around. The mud was cold and there were things in it, cold, hard things that Adam could feel on his feet and he did not like it. Shells, maybe they were shells. He felt water between his toes, then up to his ankles. The water was warm and made the mud feel less cold and Johan was standing still now, looking out at the emptiness of the sea before him. The water came up to his knees but sometimes it would swell and rise to his waist before falling away again. Adam waded deeper into the water. He could see Johan’s back, the white shirt streaked with dirt. The people at the orphanage had made them put on shirts that morning, him and Adam, because they were to be presented to those nice foreigners who were going to take them away. The shirts had been fresh and clean, but now they were dirty.

“Don’t go there,” Adam cried as loudly as he could. “Don’t leave me, Johan.”

Johan turned around slowly. It was dark and Adam could not see his face properly. The waves washed around his knees and made him feel unsteady.

“Go back, Adam. I told you, you shouldn’t have followed me.” He spoke calmly, but Adam knew he was not calm. Adam waded toward him; the sharp pebbles and the mud did not bother him anymore.

“Adam, don’t.”

“But why? What are you doing?”

Johan turned away from him, looking out to sea as if searching for some invisible object. Adam could feel the water rising to his rib cage.

“Johan, what’s wrong? Come back. I can’t see your face. I can’t see your face.” And it was this faceless Johan that terrified Adam more than the sea and the dangerous things that lurked in the mud.

Johan did not move. “Don’t look at me, Adam. Go back. Please.”

Adam did not want to cry, he did not want to upset Johan even more, but his eyes were already cloudy with tears. He stopped trying to reach Johan. He would never be able to get to him. He knew that now. His brother wanted to go away from him, and there was nothing he could do. He said, “You said you would never leave me, Johan.” The waves washed gently around his waist and made his shirt damp and cold. He rubbed his eyes and they smarted from the saltwater on his hands. He was right to have been afraid of the sea. He did not want to be here. He wanted to forget this place, this time, forever. This world, he thought, was not a good place, for in this world you could find yourself alone in an instant. You turned away and all was lost, washed out to sea. He wished he were in some other world, someplace other than this.

“Don’t cry, you idiot,” Johan said. He was alongside Adam now; he smacked Adam on the back of the head and pulled his ear. “Silly boy,” he said, “I only wanted to go for a swim, see what it’s like. I’ve never been swimming. You don’t like the sea. That’s why I said you shouldn’t have come.”

“I was frightened. The sea. I was afraid.”

Adam could not stop crying. It was stupid, but he could not stop: Johan was with him now, and everything would be all right. Everything would be all right.

“You idiot,” Johan said, putting his arm around Adam. “Just forget about it. Just pretend it didn’t happen.”

They reached the shore where the sand was dry and not muddy. They climbed the rocks again and found that it was not so difficult this time. They walked home in the murky darkness, and when they reached the orphanage they found it just as it had always been. They took off their wet clothes and slept in Johan’s bed. Adam felt safe again; he felt the unchanging warmth of Johan’s body and he was no longer afraid. Tomorrow their lives would change, but he was not afraid.

Johan said, “Go to sleep now, Adam. Forget it all. You’re a good boy. Don’t worry, I won’t leave you. Go to sleep.”

T he Great Post Road stretches a thousand kilometers across the north coast of Java, from Anyer in the west to Panarukan in the east. It is surprisingly smooth, especially given the terrain through which it runs: It cuts determinedly across the mosquito-filled marshland on the coastline of the Java Sea and does not flinch when it begins its ascent into the hills around Sumedang. It is all the more remarkable when you consider that it was built in less than a year, in 1808. What is less surprising is that thousands died during its construction — of malaria, sunstroke, famine, and simple exhaustion. Even with modern cars it is a long journey. The road is sun-baked and the air that comes in through the open windows is warm and dry and does little to alleviate the discomfort of the traveler. There is plenty of time to think about the things that may have taken place on this route in days past; all the things that may have happened in your life.