Haruki Murakami - Kafka on the Shore

"You got that right," Hoshino said. "Just apologizing wouldn't cut it. Leeches are bad enough, but those things are even worse."

"Johnnie Walker went inside Nakata. He made me do things I didn't want to. Johnnie Walker used me, but I didn't have the strength to fight it. Because I don't have anything inside me."

"Which explains why you want to go back to being a normal Nakata. One with substance?"

"That's exactly right. I'm not very bright, but I could build furniture, and I did it day after day. I liked making things-desks, chairs, chests. It's nice to make things with nice shapes. Those years I made furniture, I never thought about wanting to be normal again. And there wasn't anyone I knew who tried to get inside me. Nakata never felt afraid of anything. But after meeting Johnnie Walker I got very afraid."

"So what did this Johnnie Walker make you do after he got inside you?"

A loud rumble ripped through the sky, and the lightning was close by, by the sound of it. Hoshino's eardrums were stinging from the roar.

Nakata inclined his head slightly to one side, listening carefully, slowly rubbing the surface of the stone all the while. "He made me shed blood."

"Blood?"

"Yes, but it didn't stick to Nakata's hands."

Hoshino pondered this for a while, puzzled. "Anyway, once you open the entrance stone, all sorts of things will naturally settle back where they're meant to be, right? Like water flowing from high places to low places?"

Nakata considered this. "It might not be that easy. Nakata's job is to find the entrance stone, and open it. What happens after that, I'm afraid I don't know."

"Okay, but why's the stone in Shikoku?"

"The stone is everywhere. Not just in Shikoku. And it doesn't have to be a stone."

"I don't get it… If it's everywhere, then you could've done all this back home in Nakano. That would've saved a lot of time and effort."

Nakata rubbed a palm over his close-cropped hair. "That's a hard question. I've been listening to the stone for a while now but can't understand it all that well yet. But I do think both of us had to come here. We had to cross a big bridge. It wouldn't have worked in Nakano Ward."

"Can I ask you something else?"

"Yes."

"If you do open the entrance stone here, is something amazing going to happen? Like is what's-his-name, that genie, going to pop out like in Aladdin? Or a prince that's been turned into a frog will French-kiss me? Or else we'll be eaten alive by Martians?"

"Something might happen, but then again maybe nothing. I haven't opened it yet, so I don't know. You can't know until you open it."

"But it might be dangerous, huh?"

"Yes, exactly."

"Jeez." Hoshino pulled a Marlboro out of his pocket and lit it. "My grandpa used to always tell me that my bad point was running off with people I didn't know without thinking what I was doing. I guess I must have always done that. The child's the father of the man, like they say. Anyhow, there's nothing I can do about it now. I've come all this way, and gone to all the trouble of locating the stone, so I can't just head on home without seeing it through. We know it might be dangerous, but what the hell. Why don't we open it up and see what happens? At least it'll make a great story for the grandkids."

"Nakata has a favor to ask you, Mr. Hoshino."

"What's that?"

"Could you pick up the stone?"

"No problem."

"It's a lot heavier than when you brought it."

"I know I'm no Schwarzenegger, but I'm stronger than I look. In the SDF I got second place in our unit's arm-wrestling contest. Plus you've cured my back problems, so I can give it everything I've got."

Hoshino stood up, grabbed the stone in both hands, and tried to lift it. The stone didn't budge an inch. "You're right, it is a lot heavier," he said, gasping. "A while ago, lifting it up was no problem. Now it feels like it's nailed to the floor."

"It's the valuable entrance stone, so it can't be moved easily. If it could, that would be a problem."

"I suppose so."

Right then a few irregular flashes of light ripped through the sky, and a series of thunderclaps shook the earth to its core. It's like somebody just opened the lid to hell, Hoshino thought. One final clap of thunder boomed nearby and suddenly there was a thick, suffocating silence. The air was damp and stagnant, with a hint of something suspicious, as if countless ears were floating in the air, waiting to pick up a trace of some conspiracy. The two men were frozen, wrapped in the midday darkness. Suddenly the wind picked up again, lashing rain against the window. Thunder rumbled, but not as violently as before. The center of the storm had passed the city.

Hoshino looked up and swept the room with his eyes. Everything seemed strangely cold and distant, the four walls even more blank than before. The Marlboro butt in the ashtray had turned to ash. He swallowed and brushed the silence from his ears. "Hey, Mr. Nakata?"

"What is it, Mr. Hoshino?"

"I feel like I'm having a bad dream."

"Well, at least we're having the same dream."

"You're right," Hoshino said, and scratched his earlobe in resignation. "Right you are, right as rain, rain rain go away, come again some other day… Anyway, that makes me feel better." He then stood up once more, to try to move the stone. He took a deep breath, grabbed it, and focused all his strength in his hands. With a low grunt he managed to lift the stone an inch or two.

"You moved it a little," Nakata said.

"So we know it's not nailed down. But I've got to move it more than that, I guess."

"You need to flip it completely over."

"Like a pancake."

Nakata nodded "That's right. Pancakes are one of Nakata's favorites."

"Glad to hear it. So they have pancakes in hell, huh? Anyway, let me give it one more try. I think I can flip this thing over."

Hoshino closed his eyes and summoned up every ounce of strength, concentrating it on this one action. This is it! he told himself. Now or never!

He got a good grip, carefully tightened it, then took a huge breath, let out a gut-wrenching yell, and all at once lifted the stone, holding it in the air at a forty-five-degree angle. That was the limit of his strength. Somehow, he was able to hold it in that position. He gasped, his whole body aching, his bones and muscles and nerves screaming in pain, but he wasn't about to give up. He took in one last deep breath and gave out a battle cry, but couldn't hear his own voice. He had no idea what he was saying. Eyes shut tight, he managed to drag out a strength he never knew he had, strength that should have been beyond him. Lack of oxygen made everything go white. One after another his nerves snapped like popping fuses. He couldn't see or hear a thing, or even think. There wasn't enough air. Still, he inched the stone upward and, with a final yell, tipped it over. He lost his grip, and the weight of the stone itself flipped it over. A massive thud rattled the room as if the whole building was shaking.

The recoil sent Hoshino tumbling backward. He lay there, sprawled faceup on the tatami, gasping for air, his head filled with soft mud whirling round and round. I don't think, he thought, I'll ever lift something this heavy again as long as I live. (Later on, though, it turned out that this prediction was overly optimistic.)

"Mr. Hoshino?"

"Wh-what?"

"The entrance opened up, thanks to you."

"You know something, Gramps? I mean, Mr. Nakata?"

"What is it?"

Faceup, eyes still shut, Hoshino took another long, deep breath and exhaled. "It better have opened up. Otherwise I killed myself for nothing."

I get the library all ready to open up before Oshima arrives. Vacuum all the floors, wipe the windows, clean the restroom, wipe off all the chairs and desks. Spray the banister, polish it up nicely. Carefully dust the stained glass on the landing. Sweep the garden, switch on the AC in the reading room and the storeroom's dehumidifier. Make coffee, sharpen pencils. A deserted library in the morning-there's something about it that really gets to me. All possible words and ideas are there, resting quietly. I want to do what I can to preserve this place, keep it neat and tidy. Sometimes I come to a halt and gaze at all the silent books on the stacks, reach out and touch the spines of a few. At ten-thirty, as always, the Mazda Miata roars into the parking lot and Oshima appears, looking a little sleepy. We chat for a while till it's time to open up.