Haruki Murakami - Kafka on the Shore

"Hello," Nakata said to the dark outline.

The other person didn't say a thing.

"Sorry to bother you, but my name is Nakata. I'm not an intruder."

No reply.

"This dog told me to follow him, so here I am. Excuse me, but the dog just went right into your house and I came after him. If you don't mind terribly, I'll be leaving…"

"Take a seat on the sofa, if you would," the man said in a soft but strong tone.

"All right, I'll do that," Nakata said, lowering himself onto the one-person sofa. Right next to him, the dog was still as a statue. "Are you… the Governor?"

"Something like that," the man said from the darkness. "If that makes it easier for you, then go ahead and think that. It doesn't matter."

The man turned around and tugged at a chain to turn on a floor lamp. A yellow, antiquish light snapped on, faint but sufficient for the room.

The man before him was tall, thin, and wearing a black silk hat. He was seated on a leather swivel chair, his legs crossed in front of him. He had on a form-fitting red coat with long tails, a black vest, and long black boots. His trousers were as white as snow and fit him perfectly. One hand was raised to the brim of his hat, like he was tipping it politely to a lady. His left hand gripped a black walking stick by the round, gold knob. Looking at the hat, Nakata suddenly thought: This must be the cat-catcher!

The man's features weren't as unusual as his clothes. He was somewhere between young and old, handsome and ugly. His eyebrows were sharp and thick, and his cheeks had a healthy glow. His face was terribly smooth, with no whiskers at all. Below narrowed eyes, a cold smile played at his lips. The kind of face it was hard to remember, especially since it was his unusual clothes that caught the eye. Put another set of clothes on him and you might not even recognize the man.

"You know who I am, I assume?"

"No, sir, I'm afraid I don't," Nakata said.

The man looked a bit let down by this. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I am. I forgot to mention it, but Nakata isn't very bright."

"You've never seen me before?" the man said, rising from the chair to stand sideways to Nakata, a leg raised as if he were walking. "Doesn't ring a bell?"

"No, I'm sorry. I don't recognize you."

"I see. Perhaps you're not a whisky drinker, then," the man said.

"That's right. Nakata doesn't drink or smoke. I'm poor enough to get a sub city so I can't afford that."

The man sat back down and crossed his legs. He picked up a glass on the desk and took a sip of whisky. Ice cubes clinked in the glass. "I hope you don't mind if I indulge?"

"No, I don't mind. Please feel free."

"Thank you," the man said, gazing intently at Nakata. "So you really don't know who I am."

"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I don't."

The man's lips twisted slightly. For a brief moment a cold smile rose like a distorted ripple on the surface of water, vanished, then rose up again. "Anyone who enjoys whisky would recognize me right away, but never mind. My name is Johnnie Walker. Johnnie Walker. Most everyone knows who I am. Not to boast, but I'm famous all over the world. An iconic figure, you might say. I'm not the real Johnnie Walker, mind you. I have nothing to do with the British distilling company. I've just borrowed his appearance and name. A person's got to have an appearance and name, am I right?"

Silence descended on the room. Nakata had no idea what the man was talking about, though he did catch the name Johnnie Walker. "Are you a foreigner, Mr. Johnnie Walker?"

Johnnie Walker inclined his head. "Well, if that helps you understand me, feel free to think so. Or not. Because both are true."

Nakata was lost. He might as well be talking with Kawamura, the cat. "So you're a foreigner, but also not a foreigner. Is that what you mean?"

"That is correct."

Nakata didn't pursue the point. "Did you have this dog bring me here, then?"

"I did," Johnnie Walker replied simply.

"Which means… that maybe you have something you'd like to ask me?"

"It's more like you have something to ask me," Johnnie Walker replied, then took another sip of his whisky. "As I understand it, you've been waiting in that vacant lot for several days for me to show up."

"Yes, that's right. I completely forgot! Nakata's not too bright, and I forget things quickly. It's just like you said. I've been waiting for you in that vacant lot to ask you about a missing cat."

Johnnie Walker tapped his black walking stick smartly against the side of his black boots, and the dry click filled the room. The black dog's ears twitched. "The sun's setting, the tide's going out. So why don't we cut to the chase," Johnnie Walker said. "You wanted to see me because of this cat?"

"Yes, that's correct. Mrs. Koizumi asked Nakata to find her, and I've been looking all over for Goma for the past ten days or so. Do you know Goma?"

"I know her very well."

"And do you know where she might be?"

"I do indeed."

Lips slightly parted, Nakata stared at the silk hat, then back at his face. Johnnie Walker's thin lips were tightly closed, with a confident look.

"Is she nearby?"

Johnnie Walker nodded a few times. "Yes, very near."

Nakata gazed around the room, but couldn't see any cats. Only the writing desk, the swivel chair the man was seated on, the sofa he himself was on, two more chairs, the floor lamp, and a coffee table. "So can I take Goma home?" Nakata asked.

"That all depends on you."

"On Nakata?"

"Correct. It's all up to you," Johnnie Walker said, one eyebrow raised slightly. "If you make up your mind to do it, you can take Goma back home. And make Mrs. Koizumi and her daughters happy. Or you can never take her back, and break their hearts. You wouldn't want to do that, I imagine?"

"No, Nakata doesn't want to disappoint them."

"The same with me. I don't want to disappoint them either."

"So what should I do?"

Johnnie Walker twirled the walking stick. "I want you to do something for me."

"Is it something that Nakata can do?"

"I never ask the impossible. That's a colossal waste of time, don't you agree?"

Nakata gave it some thought. "I suppose so."

"Which means that what I'm asking you to do is something you're capable of doing."

Nakata pondered this. "Yes, I'd say that's true."

"As a rule, there's always counterevidence for every theory."

"Beg pardon?" Nakata said.

"For every theory there has to be counterevidence-otherwise science wouldn't progress," Johnnie Walker said, defiantly tapping his stick against his boots. The dog perked up his ears again. "Not at all."

Nakata kept quiet.

"Truth be told, I've been looking for someone like you for a long time," Johnnie Walker said. "But it wasn't easy to find the right person. The other day, though, I saw you talking to a cat and it hit me-this is the exact person I've been looking for. That's why I've had you come all this way. I feel bad about having you go to all the trouble, though."

"No trouble at all. Nakata has plenty of free time."

"I've prepared a couple of theories about you," Johnnie Walker said. "And of course several pieces of counterevidence. It's like a game, a mental game I play. But every game needs a winner and a loser. In this case, winning and losing involves determining which theory is correct and which theories aren't. But I don't imagine you understand what I'm talking about."

Silently, Nakata shook his head.

Johnnie Walker tapped his walking stick against his boots twice, a signal for the dog to stand up.

Oshima climbs into his Miata and flips on the headlights. As he steps on the gas, pebbles shoot up, scraping the bottom of the car. He backs up, then turns around to face the road. He raises his hand in farewell, and I do the same. The brake lights are swallowed up in darkness, the sound of the engine fading. Then it's completely gone, and the silence of the forest takes over.