The Ruined Map by Kōbō Abe

prepared for anything.”—“But you weren’t hurt.”—“No, I don’t bear a single scratch.”—“Then actually there was no harm done, but was there a possibility of being hurt?”—“Of course, I can’t claim there was no harm at all. Because Nemuro had taken on a rather large market. He was most conversant with the situation, and if he intended to take advantage of his position …”—“Well, do you mean to imply that there was some suspicious remark or behavior in the past?”—“No, I don’t think so. What’s that siren? A fire? No, probably an ambulance or a blood bank. Anyway, Nemuro—how shall I put it?—is really a hard worker, a serious type, straightforward, you know. A golden tongue is capital in this kind of cutthroat business. He’s a clever fellow with a lot of grit and stamina along with his gift of gab. And he is absolutely honest. You don’t get that every day; you can use his wallet as a safe deposit box.”—“Is he rather timid by disposition?”—“Timid? Well, I wouldn’t exactly say timid.”—“Put it very simply in a word.”—“Well, in a word, he’s steady, a plodder, really a bulldog type that never lets go. And there’s an obstinate side to him too. Once he says something he never goes back on it; then he’s like an angry toad.”—“What did he do when he made an enemy of someone?”—“Enemy? Well … this is a sharp dealer’s business; it’s not surprising you make enemies. But you’re not cut out for the work if you worry about that.”—“Supposing there was someone Nemuro caught up in some crime?”—“I see what you mean. Did he disappear or was he liquidated? Such a view is possible, frankly speaking. In your type of work you don’t hesitate to pry into the underside of people’s lives, and I don’t doubt that you come up with some interesting experiences.”—“Hmm, some, thanks to you.”—“I know you do. Anyone has to take a pee or a crap.”—“But to change the subject, wasn’t there some indication that Mr. Nemuro was perhaps dissatisfied with the work here?”—“Quite impossible! Listen, just about a month before Nemuro vanished he was promoted from chief sales clerk to section head.”—“Yes, I’ve heard that.”—“My business, as you see, is not very good now, but it’s a little annoying to have it judged on appearance alone, you know. It’s the nature of the work that when some new area develops, especially in the suburbs, the sale of propane gas naturally goes up at the same time. But as soon as it gets to a certain point city gas comes in, and when that happens that’s the end for us. We give the clarion call to advance toward new, promising, and as yet undeveloped markets. We run around to the central and local authorities collecting reports, enticing small businessmen to come in, and so forth. Well, thanks to the amazing growth of the city—it’s going full blast now—the sown seed matures fast. But in that sense it’s the quicker to dry up too. If the clerks sit at their desks doing nothing we’ll be a definite loser in this constant war of nerves that goes on. It’s better for the office to be quiet. The proof is that we’re sixth in this business. Even the bankers have confidence in us.”—“I realize that. Well now, the problem is the documents we’re looking for, the ones Mr. Nemuro supposedly handed over that morning to some young employee at S—– station.”—“Ah, Tashiro, I suppose. Tashiro must be here. I’ll call him in and ask him.”
    Without giving me a moment to interrupt, the director at once sprang up and, as he pushed with his hand, kicked open the ill-fitting veneer door. Through the opening facing the dusty office, which was partitioned off irregularly by a single-paneled screen, he bellowed: “Tashiro! Tashiro! On the double!” With his palms, he wiped away the perspiration that had sprung out on his head and then rubbed them on the seat of his trousers. How far,