picture-perfect bow. He looked like a salaryman in an old movie. Actors don’t know how to bow like that anymore. With hardly any chances to meet face to face in work settings, I wondered where he’d learned to bow so smoothly.
“The pleasure is mine.” Caught up in the moment, I did my version of a bow. Naturally my shoulder strap slipped off, almost dumping a load of delicate gear on the floor. I made a grab for the strap and hoisted it back on my shoulder. My bow left me looking down on Kurokawa from directly above, which felt even more unsettling.
Maybe it would be better to shake? By the time my hand was extended, Kurokawa was holding out a small paper rectangle with both hands. It was printed with his name, contact number, and network account. I turned the rectangle over. The other side displayed the same information in English.
“Takashi, what is this?”
“It’s called a business card. Please keep it on file.”
Since we weren’t in AR, I didn’t have AutoGlossary to help me out, but then I remembered. Business cards were a kind of physical media used to exchange personal data. I’d only seen them in movies.
“Interesting.” While I was wondering what the polite thing would be to do with it, someone behind me yelled in English.
“Hey, you!”
I spun around and saw a cart stopped in the corridor, piled high with luggage. The suitcases were plastered all over with red fragile stickers. A skinheaded woman stuck her head around the luggage mountain and glared at me.
“Out of the way. Your ass is blocking the corridor.” Yet more English.
I wasn’t exactly in her way, but it must’ve been hard for her to see. I gave her some space. As she pushed past us, she stared at Kurokawa from behind dark sunglasses.
“Sorry, kid. Didn’t see you.”
I was still processing this statement in English as she walked away. Then she laughed derisively, and the nickel dropped.
“You—!”
“Mamoru!”
Kurokawa was on tiptoe with his hands raised to block my line of sight. The woman turned, glared again, and flipped me off before striding away.
“I appreciate your support, but I’m used to this kind of thing. You don’t need to feel bad about it.”
“Okay, but …”
“At least I don’t look my age.” He smiled and looked down at his knit tie, carefully tucking it into place behind his jacket button. He took his time with it. Maybe this was how he absorbed the pain. Even if he was used to being singled out, it still had to hurt.
“Aren’t you going to be hot? The tie, I mean.”
“Not at all. I’m dressed for the heat.”
With a smooth motion, he undid the button and opened his jacket. The light behind him showed through the single unlined layer of cloth.
“But didn’t you hear the announcement? It’s thirty-five degrees outside.”
“Don’t you know it’s cooler to wear a coat when it’s hot? I bet you’re the one who sweats when we get out there.” He glanced at my T-shirt and jeans.
* * *
I waited next to the baggage carousel while Kurokawa dealt with the telecom services agent. He was arranging a local flat-rate stage. He would need it. He had to be ready for L&B anytime day or night.
Kurokawa was on tiptoe, clutching the edge of the VIET ARV counter with one hand and gesturing animatedly with the other. He was a veteran international traveler, but from where I stood he looked like a child trying to keep his balance.
Why was he so small? He always had a healthy glow. Even after meetings that ran far past midnight, he was at work the next day with as much energy as anyone. He certainly wasn’t weak. His precise movements and gestures in our meetings—I’d never seen him use an avatar—proved that his motor coordination was above average. Maybe he’d had some major illness as a child? I was curious, but I couldn’t see asking him straight out.
As I was mulling this over, Kurokawa came back with an actual paper receipt in his hand.
“Sorry to keep you
“The pleasure is mine.” Caught up in the moment, I did my version of a bow. Naturally my shoulder strap slipped off, almost dumping a load of delicate gear on the floor. I made a grab for the strap and hoisted it back on my shoulder. My bow left me looking down on Kurokawa from directly above, which felt even more unsettling.
Maybe it would be better to shake? By the time my hand was extended, Kurokawa was holding out a small paper rectangle with both hands. It was printed with his name, contact number, and network account. I turned the rectangle over. The other side displayed the same information in English.
“Takashi, what is this?”
“It’s called a business card. Please keep it on file.”
Since we weren’t in AR, I didn’t have AutoGlossary to help me out, but then I remembered. Business cards were a kind of physical media used to exchange personal data. I’d only seen them in movies.
“Interesting.” While I was wondering what the polite thing would be to do with it, someone behind me yelled in English.
“Hey, you!”
I spun around and saw a cart stopped in the corridor, piled high with luggage. The suitcases were plastered all over with red fragile stickers. A skinheaded woman stuck her head around the luggage mountain and glared at me.
“Out of the way. Your ass is blocking the corridor.” Yet more English.
I wasn’t exactly in her way, but it must’ve been hard for her to see. I gave her some space. As she pushed past us, she stared at Kurokawa from behind dark sunglasses.
“Sorry, kid. Didn’t see you.”
I was still processing this statement in English as she walked away. Then she laughed derisively, and the nickel dropped.
“You—!”
“Mamoru!”
Kurokawa was on tiptoe with his hands raised to block my line of sight. The woman turned, glared again, and flipped me off before striding away.
“I appreciate your support, but I’m used to this kind of thing. You don’t need to feel bad about it.”
“Okay, but …”
“At least I don’t look my age.” He smiled and looked down at his knit tie, carefully tucking it into place behind his jacket button. He took his time with it. Maybe this was how he absorbed the pain. Even if he was used to being singled out, it still had to hurt.
“Aren’t you going to be hot? The tie, I mean.”
“Not at all. I’m dressed for the heat.”
With a smooth motion, he undid the button and opened his jacket. The light behind him showed through the single unlined layer of cloth.
“But didn’t you hear the announcement? It’s thirty-five degrees outside.”
“Don’t you know it’s cooler to wear a coat when it’s hot? I bet you’re the one who sweats when we get out there.” He glanced at my T-shirt and jeans.
* * *
I waited next to the baggage carousel while Kurokawa dealt with the telecom services agent. He was arranging a local flat-rate stage. He would need it. He had to be ready for L&B anytime day or night.
Kurokawa was on tiptoe, clutching the edge of the VIET ARV counter with one hand and gesturing animatedly with the other. He was a veteran international traveler, but from where I stood he looked like a child trying to keep his balance.
Why was he so small? He always had a healthy glow. Even after meetings that ran far past midnight, he was at work the next day with as much energy as anyone. He certainly wasn’t weak. His precise movements and gestures in our meetings—I’d never seen him use an avatar—proved that his motor coordination was above average. Maybe he’d had some major illness as a child? I was curious, but I couldn’t see asking him straight out.
As I was mulling this over, Kurokawa came back with an actual paper receipt in his hand.
“Sorry to keep you
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