Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World by Haruki Murakami Page A
Authors: Haruki Murakami
Ads: Link
thought't'remind me. No telling how many more days she would've had't'be without sound like that. Once I hole up down here, I don't generally go back up for a few days. Poor child, livin' without sound." "I can imagine."
"Like I was sayin', the child's almost totally out of contact with society. Shouldn't make much difference for the most part, but if the phone were't'ring, could be trouble."
"She'd have a hard time shopping if she couldn't speak." " Tosh , shoppin' wouldn't be so bad," said the old man. "They've got supermarkets out there where you can shop and not say a word. The child really likes supermarkets, she's always going to them. Office to supermarket, supermarket to office. That's her whole life." "Doesn't she go home?"
"The child likes the office. It's got a kitchen and a shower, everything she needs. At most she goes home once a week." I drank my coffee.
"But say, you managed't'talk with her all right," the old man said. "How'd you do it? Telepathy?"
"Lipreading. I studied it in my spare time."
"Lipreading, of course," the old man said, nodding with approval. "A right effective technique. I know a bit myself. What say we try carrying on a silent conversation, the two of us?"
"Mind if we don't?" I hastened to reply.
"Granted, lipreading's an extremely primitive technique. It has shortcomings aplenty, too. Gets too dark and you can't understand a thing. Plus you have't'keep your eyes glued to somebody's mouth. Still, as a halfway measure, it works fine. Must say you had uncanny foresight't'learn lipreading."
"Halfway measure?"
"Right-o," said the old man with another nod. "Now listen up, son. I'm tellin' this to you and you alone: The world ahead of us is goint'be sound-free."
"Sound-free?" I blurted out.
"Yessir. Completely sound-free. That's because sound is of no use to human evolution. In fact, it gets in the Way. So we're going't'wipe sound out, morning to night."
"Hmph. You're saying there'll be no birds singing or brooks babbling. No music?"
"'Course not."
"It's going to be a pretty bleak world, if you ask me."
"Don't blame me. That's evolution. Evolution's always hard. Hard and bleak. No such thing as happy evolution," said the old man. He stood up and walked around his desk to retrieve a pair of nail clippers from a drawer. He came back to the sofa and set at trimming all ten fingernails. "The research is underway, but I can't give you the details. Still, the general drift of it is… well, that's what's comin'. You musn't breathe a word of this to anyone. The day this reaches Semiotec ears, all pandemonium's goint'break loose."
"Rest easy. We Calcutecs guard our secrets well."
"Much relieved't'hear that," said the old man, sweeping up his nail clippings with an index card and tossing them into the trash. Then he helped himself to another cucumber sandwich. "These sure are good, if I do, say so myself."
"Is all her cooking this good?"
"Mmm, not especially. It's sandwiches where she excels. Her cooking's not bad, mind you, but it just can't match her sandwiches."
"A rare gift," I said.
"Tis," the old man agreed. "I must say, I do believe it takes someone like you to fully appreciate the child. I could entrust her to a young man like you and know I'd done the right thing."
"Me?" I started. "Just because I said I liked her sandwiches?"
"You don't like her sandwiches?"
"I'm very fond of her sandwiches."
"The way I see it, you've got a certain quality. Or else, you're missin' something."
"I sometimes think so myself."
"We scientists see human traits as being in the process of evolution. Sooner or later you'll see it yourself. Evolution is mighty gruelin'. What do you think the most gruelin' thing about evolution is?"
"I don't know. Tell me," I said.
"It's being unable to pick and choose. Nobody chooses to evolve. It's like floods and avalanches and earthquakes. You never know what's happening until they hit, then it's too late."
I thought about this for a bit. "This
"Like I was sayin', the child's almost totally out of contact with society. Shouldn't make much difference for the most part, but if the phone were't'ring, could be trouble."
"She'd have a hard time shopping if she couldn't speak." " Tosh , shoppin' wouldn't be so bad," said the old man. "They've got supermarkets out there where you can shop and not say a word. The child really likes supermarkets, she's always going to them. Office to supermarket, supermarket to office. That's her whole life." "Doesn't she go home?"
"The child likes the office. It's got a kitchen and a shower, everything she needs. At most she goes home once a week." I drank my coffee.
"But say, you managed't'talk with her all right," the old man said. "How'd you do it? Telepathy?"
"Lipreading. I studied it in my spare time."
"Lipreading, of course," the old man said, nodding with approval. "A right effective technique. I know a bit myself. What say we try carrying on a silent conversation, the two of us?"
"Mind if we don't?" I hastened to reply.
"Granted, lipreading's an extremely primitive technique. It has shortcomings aplenty, too. Gets too dark and you can't understand a thing. Plus you have't'keep your eyes glued to somebody's mouth. Still, as a halfway measure, it works fine. Must say you had uncanny foresight't'learn lipreading."
"Halfway measure?"
"Right-o," said the old man with another nod. "Now listen up, son. I'm tellin' this to you and you alone: The world ahead of us is goint'be sound-free."
"Sound-free?" I blurted out.
"Yessir. Completely sound-free. That's because sound is of no use to human evolution. In fact, it gets in the Way. So we're going't'wipe sound out, morning to night."
"Hmph. You're saying there'll be no birds singing or brooks babbling. No music?"
"'Course not."
"It's going to be a pretty bleak world, if you ask me."
"Don't blame me. That's evolution. Evolution's always hard. Hard and bleak. No such thing as happy evolution," said the old man. He stood up and walked around his desk to retrieve a pair of nail clippers from a drawer. He came back to the sofa and set at trimming all ten fingernails. "The research is underway, but I can't give you the details. Still, the general drift of it is… well, that's what's comin'. You musn't breathe a word of this to anyone. The day this reaches Semiotec ears, all pandemonium's goint'break loose."
"Rest easy. We Calcutecs guard our secrets well."
"Much relieved't'hear that," said the old man, sweeping up his nail clippings with an index card and tossing them into the trash. Then he helped himself to another cucumber sandwich. "These sure are good, if I do, say so myself."
"Is all her cooking this good?"
"Mmm, not especially. It's sandwiches where she excels. Her cooking's not bad, mind you, but it just can't match her sandwiches."
"A rare gift," I said.
"Tis," the old man agreed. "I must say, I do believe it takes someone like you to fully appreciate the child. I could entrust her to a young man like you and know I'd done the right thing."
"Me?" I started. "Just because I said I liked her sandwiches?"
"You don't like her sandwiches?"
"I'm very fond of her sandwiches."
"The way I see it, you've got a certain quality. Or else, you're missin' something."
"I sometimes think so myself."
"We scientists see human traits as being in the process of evolution. Sooner or later you'll see it yourself. Evolution is mighty gruelin'. What do you think the most gruelin' thing about evolution is?"
"I don't know. Tell me," I said.
"It's being unable to pick and choose. Nobody chooses to evolve. It's like floods and avalanches and earthquakes. You never know what's happening until they hit, then it's too late."
I thought about this for a bit. "This
Similar Books
