Espresso Love (A Dystopian Japan Novel) #Wattys2014

The Pinnacle

- The Pinnacle -

When we board our very special gondola, we do so with much expectancy, as our minutes of waiting had built to an unprecedented suspense, as if the gondola itself is a mystic shrine to bear us towards a deity. We'd receive answers there. I tried to douse my hopes, in case of disappointment, but to no avail. Shizuka is confident and I'm confident and we know that there's something at the top of Cosmo Clock 21; something for us. The pilgrimage is coming to an end.

Inside, though we're not by any means heavy, we find footing treacherous and the car seems to swing and tilt a few degrees with every move we make. The entire craft creaks and careens and trembles, and the pigments trickling through the glass shifts.

I had expected her to sit across from me, to balance out our weight, but when I sat down on the left, she did the same, right beside me, as if she couldn't bear the thought of being separated. The old man at the gate waves us off rather fondly like a proud father and shuts the door on us with a clank. The door locks; our world shuts in like a pet cage.

Outside, the ground starts to move. Metal rails, pavement, parked vehicles, people and a multitude of lights like waving glowsticks and candlelight vigils, slip past us. Slowly at first, but soon details start to grow smaller, an alien shrink gun and a miniature city. We're borne aloft by an invisible cushion of air, and my stomach does a double take. All I can see are our shoes. They're planted right on top of a hole, a void. They sit there seemingly with no reason. At first when we had looked down, the close proximity to the platform gave us no qualms. But now, we dare not move. I hold my breath and swallow saliva. We concentrate and hover and levitate like magicians. But how long will the magic remain? At any instant, I expect to fall through: suddenly, our glass container disappears. I can almost feel my skin exposed to the cold air; and my heart plunges upward to my head.

But the longer I stare, the less terrifying and the more mesmerizing it is. Things are moving, everything is moving, life is moving beneath our fingertips, beneath our feet. We're now part of the contraption that paints the world below. I can see the colours palpitate and swirl up and down, over different textures and surfaces. Everything blends and blurs and diffuses together. It could be an effect through the glass windows or through the motion of the ferris wheel, but to me, it's as if we are swimming through a deep inky sea, and drops of colour plume like milk in coffee. We leak rainbow spectrum, we are colour, we are time.

On the other hand, it's eerily quiet, and a silence slips through the cracks in the doors and windows and fills in the remaining space between us. The colours may dance but the air is bitter and the seat starts to seep through my pants.

I look at her but she doesn't look at me. She's thinking about other things. And as she does so, I feel her weight settling closer and closer, until her head is on my shoulder. I ask if she's okay and she tells me she's a little cold. She's still not looking outside.

A spectacular view forms in my vision. An expanse of luminous dots sweeps across like a starry sky spread below us in a prophetic reversal. They don't appear to be planted consciously. Not by human hands or divine will. Rather, they appear at random, flickering and twinkling at their own whim. These dots assemble together organically according to a secret langue and ancient design, into vines and branches, creatures rising out from black water, or scurrying across the ground in strange circular symbols and zig-zagging patterns. We're only overlooking fragments of the Yokohama bay port and intersecting roads, as we are not high enough yet, but I can already pick out several landmarks that they form. The massive half-moon shaped Intercontinental Grand Hotel like a crashed starship. A kid's amusement park lit up in bold palette. Stocky rectangular prisms of the Queen's Towers and an abundance of cafes tucked beneath darkened trees and foliage.