into the distant polar mountains. When he made that kind of face, he looked as unworldly as a young boy.
That’s a look peculiar to the people of this generation, Major Taguchi thought. In other words, it was the face of one unharmed by the great upheavals of the world.
“What do you think will happen to the world from here on out?”
“Who know?” said Taguchi, a bit at a loss for words at the unexpected question. “What’ll happen? Things won’t change much at all, right? Already, the wars and the panics aren’t—”
In sudden surprise, he left his sentence unfinished. That was it! Already, a fairly long period of time had passed without anything much really happening. So many times, the alarms had been raised for impending crises, and so many times, disaster had been averted at the very last moment. There had even been a moment when it was feared that the economic bankruptcy of the great nations would overturn the world marketplace, but in the end, that had been dodged in the form of a rather long period of recession. This was only a rumor, but there was even a story going around that the Soviet Union had—behind the scenes of the world economic stage—bailed America out of its economic crisis. To put it in nautical terms, “restorability” was the thing that was growing stronger and stronger in the world now. And from now on …
“Well, even with a few oscillations,” Taguchi said, “civilization as a whole will keep on slowly inching forward, eh? Why do you ask?”
“Oh, no reason, really,” Yoshizumi said with a bashful little smile. “Do you think that war is … a thing of the past now?”
“Not hardly,” said Major Taguchi. “Across the board disarmament will take a long time, and NATO is like a car manufacturer that keeps putting out a new model every year—new armaments, new positioning, and new strategy, all standard. File that question under ‘Not hardly.’ The strategic nuclear framework between the East and the West will take shape within the next three or four years. The American president and the Soviet premier will meet this summer, and that’s when things will become more definite, right?”
“So even though one part of the world keeps on changing steadily,” Yoshizumi said vacantly, “there’s another part that’s hardly changed at all. Disarmament. A lot of time has passed since the first voices calling for it started to be heard.”
“But the part that’s changing a lot and the part that’s been so gridlocked are both changing now, don’t you think?” said Taguchi in a somewhat ambiguous tone. “The world today is still riding on a lot of inertia from the 1950s. Making it change direction is incredibly difficult. Hey, it’s about time for you to go …”
Yoshizumi continued slowly pulling at the Meerschaum pipe, however. The thin smoke rose slowly up into the whitish night sky of the Antarctic summer. The wind was blowing from the east. Way over on the other side of the Prince Olav coast, the area around Hinode Cape had grown dark. After he had smoked the very last of the tobacco, Yoshizumi tapped the pipe lightly against the top of his palm.
Yoshizumi held the pipe out for Major Taguchi to take back, to which Taguchi replied, “You can have it.”
Yoshizumi’s face lit up instantly. “You don’t mind?” he asked. “In that case, lend it to me until you come later. I’ll take good care of it.”
“No,” Taguchi said. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t mind. I’m not coming next year.”
“Why not?”
“When I get back to Japan, I’ll be assigned new duties right away. Training courses,” Major Taguchi said, sounding a little forlorn. “I’m to be placed aboard a foreign ship for one year. I’ll probably never ride on Shiretoko again.”
“Then … this really is goodbye, isn’t it?” said Yoshizumi regretfully. The two men, ten years apart in age, had first gotten to know one another thanks to a pipe. From the start, they had
That’s a look peculiar to the people of this generation, Major Taguchi thought. In other words, it was the face of one unharmed by the great upheavals of the world.
“What do you think will happen to the world from here on out?”
“Who know?” said Taguchi, a bit at a loss for words at the unexpected question. “What’ll happen? Things won’t change much at all, right? Already, the wars and the panics aren’t—”
In sudden surprise, he left his sentence unfinished. That was it! Already, a fairly long period of time had passed without anything much really happening. So many times, the alarms had been raised for impending crises, and so many times, disaster had been averted at the very last moment. There had even been a moment when it was feared that the economic bankruptcy of the great nations would overturn the world marketplace, but in the end, that had been dodged in the form of a rather long period of recession. This was only a rumor, but there was even a story going around that the Soviet Union had—behind the scenes of the world economic stage—bailed America out of its economic crisis. To put it in nautical terms, “restorability” was the thing that was growing stronger and stronger in the world now. And from now on …
“Well, even with a few oscillations,” Taguchi said, “civilization as a whole will keep on slowly inching forward, eh? Why do you ask?”
“Oh, no reason, really,” Yoshizumi said with a bashful little smile. “Do you think that war is … a thing of the past now?”
“Not hardly,” said Major Taguchi. “Across the board disarmament will take a long time, and NATO is like a car manufacturer that keeps putting out a new model every year—new armaments, new positioning, and new strategy, all standard. File that question under ‘Not hardly.’ The strategic nuclear framework between the East and the West will take shape within the next three or four years. The American president and the Soviet premier will meet this summer, and that’s when things will become more definite, right?”
“So even though one part of the world keeps on changing steadily,” Yoshizumi said vacantly, “there’s another part that’s hardly changed at all. Disarmament. A lot of time has passed since the first voices calling for it started to be heard.”
“But the part that’s changing a lot and the part that’s been so gridlocked are both changing now, don’t you think?” said Taguchi in a somewhat ambiguous tone. “The world today is still riding on a lot of inertia from the 1950s. Making it change direction is incredibly difficult. Hey, it’s about time for you to go …”
Yoshizumi continued slowly pulling at the Meerschaum pipe, however. The thin smoke rose slowly up into the whitish night sky of the Antarctic summer. The wind was blowing from the east. Way over on the other side of the Prince Olav coast, the area around Hinode Cape had grown dark. After he had smoked the very last of the tobacco, Yoshizumi tapped the pipe lightly against the top of his palm.
Yoshizumi held the pipe out for Major Taguchi to take back, to which Taguchi replied, “You can have it.”
Yoshizumi’s face lit up instantly. “You don’t mind?” he asked. “In that case, lend it to me until you come later. I’ll take good care of it.”
“No,” Taguchi said. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t mind. I’m not coming next year.”
“Why not?”
“When I get back to Japan, I’ll be assigned new duties right away. Training courses,” Major Taguchi said, sounding a little forlorn. “I’m to be placed aboard a foreign ship for one year. I’ll probably never ride on Shiretoko again.”
“Then … this really is goodbye, isn’t it?” said Yoshizumi regretfully. The two men, ten years apart in age, had first gotten to know one another thanks to a pipe. From the start, they had
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