Кобо Абэ - The Ark Sakura

“There you have the opposite of a dream,” I said. “Sheer practicality.”

“There you have a lesson in how to fleece people,” said the insect dealer. “Nothing wild or fantastic, you see. Plain, everyday items are best — kitchen stuff, especially. If you’re clever, you can even fool people in the same line. But it doesn’t bear repeating. You can never work the same place, or the same item, more than once. And until you’ve mapped out your next strategy, you’ve got to keep jumping from town to town. Not an easy life.”

“Does the eupcaccia bear repeating?” I asked.

“Ah — so now you’ve made up your mind it’s a fake.”

“Just eat your sandwich, please. What did you have for breakfast?”

“What does it matter?”

“I always have sweet potatoes, or pancakes, with coffee. I make my own pancakes.”

“I can’t make a good pancake.”

“Neither can I.”

“Haven’t eaten breakfast in a good ten years.”

“Was that thunder?”

“Who cares?”

He bit off a piece of his sandwich as if tearing into the world’s betrayal. I couldn’t blame him. If I were the discoverer of the eupcaccia, with sales so slow I’d undoubtedly feel the same way. A pillar of sand, understood only by dreamers. But even a pillar of sand, if it stands inside the earth, can hold up a skyscraper.

“If you like, I’ll take the rest of the eupcaccias off your hands. Another four or five wouldn’t hurt, anyway.”

“Why should you do that?” the insect dealer said, stuffing his mouth with the last of his sandwich. “Don’t talk like an idiot. I don’t know what little scheme you may have in mind. ”

“All right. Just because I’m fat, you don’t have to snap at me that way.”

“Obesity has no correlation to character.” He stuck the wad of bread he was chewing over on one side of his mouth, and added in a muffled voice, “It’s caused by the proliferation of melanoid fat cells; only involves an inch or two of subcutaneous tissue.”

“You know a lot about it.”

“Just something I read in the paper.”

“Do you plan to sell the rest of the eupcaccias somewhere else?”

“Frankly, I’ve had a bellyful of them.”

“Surely you wouldn’t just throw them away?”

“They’re not even worth grinding up for medicine. I’ll save the containers, though; I paid enough for them.”

“Then why not let me have the lot? I’ll trade you that for a boat ticket. If you’re going to throw them away anyway, why not? You’ve got nothing to lose.”

Whoops — too soon to bring up the boat ticket. After this slip, I felt as unnerved as if someone had just goosed me with an ice cube. I’d been too anxious to keep him from belittling my purchase, feeling that any criticism of the eupcaccia was a reflection on my judgment as well. The clockbug contained, I felt, a revelation that could save humanity much rancor and anxiety.

Take the anthropoids, who are thought to share a common ancestor with the human race. They exhibit two distinct tendencies: one is to make groups and build societies — the aggrandizing tendency — and the other is for each animal to huddle in its own territory and build its own castle — the settling tendency. For whatever reason, both these contradictory impulses survive in the human psyche. On the one hand, humans have acquired the ability to spread across the earth, thanks to an adaptability superior even to that of rats and cockroaches; on the other, they have acquired a demonic capability for intense mutual hatred and destruction. For the human race, now on a level equal with nature, this two-edged sword is too heavy. We end up with government policies that make about as much sense as using a giant electric saw to cut open the belly of a tiny fish. If only we could be more like the eupcaccias.

“Trade it for what, did you say?”

“A boat ticket.”

“Ah, the old survey con.” He drank the rest of his canned coffee, and looked at me intently through his thick lenses. “If you’re trying to pull off one of those on me, better wait till you’re a little more experienced.”

“Huh?”

“You never heard of it? I guess not, from the look on your face. You know, you see them everywhere, those people standing on street corners with a pad of paper and a ballpoint pen in their hands.”

“I’ve seen them. What are they there for?”

“ ‘Tell me, madam, have you settled on your summer vacation plans?’ They start out like that, and they wind up extorting an entrance fee for some super-duper travel club.”

“You’ve got me wrong.” After some hesitation, I decided I had no choice but to bring out one of the leather cases. “See? A key and a boat ticket. It’s a ticket to survival.”

A tap on the shoulder from behind. A pungent whiff of pomade.

“No soliciting without a permit, buddy. Pay the fee and open your own stall, just like everybody else.” A boxlike man, hair parted on one side, stood looming behind me. His eyes, moist with intensity, were round and deep-set. His erect posture and the badge on his chest immediately identified him as a member of the store’s security detail.

“I’m not soliciting.”

“You’ll have to come with me. You can file your complaints over at the office.”

Eyes converged on us. A wall of curiosity, anticipating a show. Then Goggle Eyes grabbed my arm, his fingers digging into the flesh until my wrist began to tingle — a form of punishment he was evidently used to meting out. With my eyes I signaled to the insect dealer for help, expecting him to be able to say something in my defense. But he kept his head lowered, and did nothing but fumble in his pocket. The man was all talk, not to be trusted. Let that be a lesson to me. It wouldn’t do to start passing out tickets recklessly.

Resigned, I began to get up. All at once, Goggle Eyes softened his grip. The insect dealer’s right arm was extended toward us, displaying in two fingers a tan card.

“Permit number E-eighteen.”

“That won’t work. This guy is the one who was soliciting.”

“He’s my partner. Since when is use restricted to the bearer?”

“Oh. Well, in that case. ”

“I’ll go along with you,” offered the insect dealer genially. “It’s the least I can do.”

“No, that’s okay, as long as I know the score.”

“Not so fast. You’ve embarrassed us publicly. Now there has to be a proper settling up.”

“I am sorry this happened, sir. But we do ask in principle that you restrict business activities to the place stipulated.”

“Yes, certainly. Sorry to have troubled you.”

Palms facing us in a gesture of apology, Goggle Eyes backed speedily off and disappeared. I was filled with remorse, abashed that for those few seconds I had doubted the insect dealer.

“Thanks. You saved me.”

“A lot of those guys are former cops. Out to fill their quotas.”

“Anyway, please take this,” I said, pressing the case on him. “It may not be as fancy as the one for the eupcaccias, but it’s pretty nice, don’t you think? Real leather, hand-tooled.”

“So the case is imposing and the contents are worthless, eh? At least you’re honest.”

“No, no — this is a ticket to survival. Open it up and see for yourself.”

“Survival? Of what?”

“The disaster, of course.”

“What disaster?”

“Well, don’t you think we’re teetering on the brink of disaster right now — nature, mankind, the earth, the whole world?”

“As a matter of fact, I do. But my thinking so isn’t going to make any difference.”

“Come on. I’ll show you.”

I stood up and motioned for him to follow, but the insect dealer remained where he was, making no move either to touch the ticket case or to get up from his chair.