Харуки Мураками - Killing Commendatore

At last, Long Face woke up. He twisted and turned a bit on the floor, and uttered a few incomprehensible words. Then, slowly, he opened his eyes a crack. Like a child looking at something scary—something he didn’t want to see, but must.

I went and knelt beside him.

“There’s very little time,” I said, looking down at him. “I need you to tell me where I can find Mariye Akikawa. If you do, I’ll untie you, and you can go back.”

I pointed to the square hole in the corner. The lid was still raised. I couldn’t tell if he understood what I was saying or not. But I decided to keep talking. All I could do was give it a shot.

Long Face violently shook his head back and forth several times. I couldn’t tell if he was saying that he didn’t know anything, or that my language was foreign to him.

“If you don’t tell me, I’ll kill you,” I said. “You saw me stab the Commendatore, I bet. Well, there’s no big difference between one murder and two.”

I pressed the bloody blade of my knife against his dirty throat. I thought of the fishermen and the pilot of the southbound airplane. We all have jobs we have to do. And this was mine. I wasn’t going to kill him, of course, but the knife was real, and very sharp. Long Face quivered in fear.

“Wait!” he gasped in a husky voice. “Stay your hand.”

His way of speaking was strange, but I could understand him. I eased off on the knife.

“Where is Mariye Akikawa?” I pressed him. “Come on, spit it out!”

“No, sir, I do not know. I swear it.”

I studied his eyes. They were big and easy to read. He seemed to be telling the truth.

“All right then, tell me, what are you doing here?” I asked.

“I am enjoined to verify and record these events. I do only what I am told to do. You have my word.”

“Why must you verify them?”

“Because I was so bidden. I know nothing beyond that.”

“So what on earth are you? Another kind of Idea?”

“Goodness no! I am a Metaphor, nothing more.”

“A Metaphor?”

“Yes. A mere Metaphor. Used to link two things together. So please, untie my bonds, please, I beseech you.”

I was getting confused. “If you are as you say, then give me a metaphor now, off the top of your head.”

“I am the most humble and lowly form of Metaphor, sir. I cannot devise anything of quality.”

“A metaphor of any kind is all right—it doesn’t have to be brilliant.”

“He was someone who stood out,” he said after a moment’s pause, “like a man wearing an orange cone hat in a packed commuter train.”

Not an impressive metaphor, to be sure. In fact, not really a metaphor at all.

“That’s a simile, not a metaphor,” I pointed out.

“A million pardons,” he said, sweat pouring from his forehead. “Let me try again. ‘He lived as though he were wearing an orange cone hat in a crowded train.’”

“That makes no sense. It’s still not a true metaphor. Your story doesn’t hold. I’ll just have to kill you.”

Long Face’s lips trembled with fear. His beard may have been manly, but he was short on guts.

“My sincerest apologies, sir. I am yet but an apprentice. I cannot think of a witty example. Forgive me. But I assure you that I am the genuine article, a true Metaphor.”

“Then who is your superior—who commands you?”

“I have no superior, per se. Well, perhaps I do, but I have never laid eyes on him. I only follow orders—acting as a link between phenomena and language. Like a helpless jellyfish adrift on the ocean. So please do not kill me. I implore you.”

“I can spare your life,” I said, my knife still on his throat. “But only if you agree to guide me to where you came from.”

“That is something I cannot do,” Long Face said in a firm voice. It was the first time he had used that tone. “The road I took to get here is the Path of Metaphor. It is different for each one who traverses it. It is not a single road. Thus I cannot guide you, sir, on your way.”

“Let me get this straight. I must follow this path alone, and I must discover it for myself—is that what you’re saying?”

Long Face nodded vigorously. “The Path of Metaphor is rife with perils. Should a mortal like you stray from the path even once, you could find yourself in danger. And there are Double Metaphors everywhere.”

“Double Metaphors?”

Long Face shuddered with fear. “Yes, Double Metaphors lurking in the darkness. The most vile and dangerous of creatures.”

“It’s all the same to me,” I said. “I’m already mixed up in a whole lot of craziness. So it’s no skin off my nose if the craziness grows or shrinks. I killed the Commendatore with my own hands. I don’t want his death to be in vain.”

“I see I have no choice. So let me offer you a word of warning before you set out.”

“What kind of warning?”

“Take a light of some kind with you. You will pass through many dark places on your way. You will come across a river. It is a metaphorical river, but the water is very real. It is cold and deep, and the current is strong. You cannot cross without a boat. You will find a boat at the ferrying spot.”

“How about after I cross the river—what should I do then?”

Long Face rolled his bulging eyes. “The world that awaits you on the other side, like this one, is subject to the principle of connectivity. You will have to see for yourself.”

I checked Tomohiko Amada’s bedside table. Sure enough, a flashlight was there. A facility like this one was sure to store one in each room in case of fire or earthquake. I flicked it on. The light was strong. The batteries weren’t dead. I slipped on my leather jacket, which I had draped over a chair, and started for the hole in the corner, flashlight in hand.

“Please, sir,” Long Face begged. “Will you not loosen my bonds? I fear what may transpire should I be left in this state.”

“If you’re a true Metaphor, untying yourself should be easy. Aren’t Concepts and Ideas and others like you able to move through space and time?”

“No, you overrate me. I am blessed with no such marvelous powers. Concepts and Ideas are Metaphors of a much higher order.”

“Like those with orange cone hats?”

Long Face looked stricken. “Please do not mock me, sir. My feelings can be hurt too, you know.”

After a moment’s hesitation, I decided to untie his hands and feet. I had bound them so tightly they took time to undo. Now that we had talked, he didn’t appear to be such a bad fellow. True, he didn’t know where Mariye was, but he had volunteered other information. I doubted that he would interfere or cause me any harm if I untied him. And I certainly couldn’t leave him bound and trussed where he was. Should anyone find him like that, it would only make things worse. When I finished, he sat there for a moment, rubbing his chafed wrists with his tiny hands. Then he felt his forehead. It appeared a lump had already sprouted.

“Thank you, sir. Now I can return to my world.”

“Go ahead,” I said, gesturing to the hole in the corner. “I’ll follow later.”

“I shall now make my departure. Please ensure that the lid is securely closed when you follow. Otherwise, someone might trip and fall in. Or grow curious and climb down. Then I would be held responsible.”

“Understood. I will make sure it’s closed.”

Long Face trotted to the hole and climbed inside. Then his head and shoulders popped up again. His saucer eyes had an eerie glow. As they did in Killing Commendatore .

“I wish you a safe journey,” Long Face said to me. “I hope you can find What’s-her-name . Was it Komichi?”

“No, her name isn’t Komichi,” I said. A chill ran down my spine. My throat turned to sandpaper. I couldn’t speak for a moment. “The name was Mariye Akikawa. Do you know something about Komichi?”