Read Online Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World by Haruki Murakami - Free Book Online
Authors: Haruki Murakami
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both our necks."
"Don't worry. We receive quite thorough training on that count. There'll be no inadvertent straying of tabulated data."
I withdrew a flex-metal document cache from a pocket behind my left knee, inserted the data list, and locked it.
"I'm the only one who can open this. If someone tampers with the lock, the contents are destroyed."
"Mighty clever," the old man said.
I slipped the document cache back behind my knee.
"Say now, sure you won't have any more to eat? There're a few sandwiches left. I don't eat much when I'm caught up in research. Be a shame't'let them go to waste."
I was still hungry, so I squared away the remaining sandwiches. The old man poured me a fresh cup of coffee.
I climbed back into rain gear, pulled on my goggles, took flashlight in hand, and headed back into the subterranean passage. This time the old man didn't come along.
"Already put out ultrasonic waves't'drive those INKlings away, so shouldn't be any of them sneakin' around for the time bein'," the old man reassured me.
Apparently, these INKlings were some kind of subterranean entity, which made me feel a bit squeamish about walking all alone out there in the dark. It didn't help that I didn't know a thing about INKlings, not their habits nor what they looked like nor how to defend myself against them. Flashlight in my left hand, knife in my right, I braced myself for the return trip.
When I saw the chubby pink-suited young woman waving her flashlight and coming my way, I felt saved. I made it over toward her. She was saying something which I couldn't hear over the rumble of the de-sound-removed river. Nor could I see her lips in the darkness.
Up the long aluminum ladder we went, to where there was light. I climbed/first, she followed. Coming down, I hadn't been ableTiTsee anything, so there was nothing to be afraid of, relatively speaking, but going back up was something else entirely. I could picture the height only too well—a two- or three-story drop. I wanted to stop to regather my wits, but she was on my tail. Safety first, I always say, so I kept climbing.
We made it through the closet back into the first room and stripped off our rain gear.
"Work go well?" she asked. Her voice, now audible for the first time, was soft and clear.
"Well enough, thanks."
"I really appreciate your telling Grandfather about my sound-removal. I would have been like that for a whole week."
"Why didn't you tell me that in writing? You could have been straightened up a lot sooner, and I wouldn't have been so confused."
She did a quick turn around the table without a word, then adjusted both of her earrings.
"Rules are rules," she said.
"Against communicating in writing?"
"That's one of them."
"Hmph."
"Anything that might lead to devolution."
"Oh," I said. Talk about precautions.
"How old are you?" she asked out of the blue.
"Thirty-five. And you?"
"Seventeen. You're the first Calcutec I've ever met. But then, I've never met any Semiotecs either."
"You're really only seventeen?" I asked, surprised.
"Yes, why should I lie? I'm really seventeen. I don't look seventeen, though, do I?"
"No, you look about twenty."
"It's because I don't want to look seventeen," she said. "Tell me, what's it like to be a Calcutec?"
"We're normal ordinary people, just like everyone else."
"Everyone may be ordinary, but they're not normal."
"Yes, there is that school of thought," I said. "But there's normal and then there's normal . I mean the kind of normal that can sit down next to you on the train and you wouldn't even notice. Normal. We eat food, drink beer—oh, by the way, the sandwiches were great."
"Really?" she said, beaming.
"I don't often get good sandwiches like that. I practically ate them all myself."
"How about the coffee?"
"The coffee wasn't bad either."
"Really? Would you like some now? That way we could sit and talk a little while longer."
"No thanks, I've had more than enough already," I said. "I don't think I can
"Don't worry. We receive quite thorough training on that count. There'll be no inadvertent straying of tabulated data."
I withdrew a flex-metal document cache from a pocket behind my left knee, inserted the data list, and locked it.
"I'm the only one who can open this. If someone tampers with the lock, the contents are destroyed."
"Mighty clever," the old man said.
I slipped the document cache back behind my knee.
"Say now, sure you won't have any more to eat? There're a few sandwiches left. I don't eat much when I'm caught up in research. Be a shame't'let them go to waste."
I was still hungry, so I squared away the remaining sandwiches. The old man poured me a fresh cup of coffee.
I climbed back into rain gear, pulled on my goggles, took flashlight in hand, and headed back into the subterranean passage. This time the old man didn't come along.
"Already put out ultrasonic waves't'drive those INKlings away, so shouldn't be any of them sneakin' around for the time bein'," the old man reassured me.
Apparently, these INKlings were some kind of subterranean entity, which made me feel a bit squeamish about walking all alone out there in the dark. It didn't help that I didn't know a thing about INKlings, not their habits nor what they looked like nor how to defend myself against them. Flashlight in my left hand, knife in my right, I braced myself for the return trip.
When I saw the chubby pink-suited young woman waving her flashlight and coming my way, I felt saved. I made it over toward her. She was saying something which I couldn't hear over the rumble of the de-sound-removed river. Nor could I see her lips in the darkness.
Up the long aluminum ladder we went, to where there was light. I climbed/first, she followed. Coming down, I hadn't been ableTiTsee anything, so there was nothing to be afraid of, relatively speaking, but going back up was something else entirely. I could picture the height only too well—a two- or three-story drop. I wanted to stop to regather my wits, but she was on my tail. Safety first, I always say, so I kept climbing.
We made it through the closet back into the first room and stripped off our rain gear.
"Work go well?" she asked. Her voice, now audible for the first time, was soft and clear.
"Well enough, thanks."
"I really appreciate your telling Grandfather about my sound-removal. I would have been like that for a whole week."
"Why didn't you tell me that in writing? You could have been straightened up a lot sooner, and I wouldn't have been so confused."
She did a quick turn around the table without a word, then adjusted both of her earrings.
"Rules are rules," she said.
"Against communicating in writing?"
"That's one of them."
"Hmph."
"Anything that might lead to devolution."
"Oh," I said. Talk about precautions.
"How old are you?" she asked out of the blue.
"Thirty-five. And you?"
"Seventeen. You're the first Calcutec I've ever met. But then, I've never met any Semiotecs either."
"You're really only seventeen?" I asked, surprised.
"Yes, why should I lie? I'm really seventeen. I don't look seventeen, though, do I?"
"No, you look about twenty."
"It's because I don't want to look seventeen," she said. "Tell me, what's it like to be a Calcutec?"
"We're normal ordinary people, just like everyone else."
"Everyone may be ordinary, but they're not normal."
"Yes, there is that school of thought," I said. "But there's normal and then there's normal . I mean the kind of normal that can sit down next to you on the train and you wouldn't even notice. Normal. We eat food, drink beer—oh, by the way, the sandwiches were great."
"Really?" she said, beaming.
"I don't often get good sandwiches like that. I practically ate them all myself."
"How about the coffee?"
"The coffee wasn't bad either."
"Really? Would you like some now? That way we could sit and talk a little while longer."
"No thanks, I've had more than enough already," I said. "I don't think I can
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