Espresso Love (A Dystopian Japan Novel) #Wattys2014

In Between

He hastily ushers me back out on the street with my paper cup of coffee. You must be on your way, he says, before they find you. I attempt to ask him what he meant by a key or searching for a concept. Is Shizuka the key or is there something else? What is beyond the gate?

"There's no time to waste." His voice sounds weaker and weaker by the moment. It shakes deep in his throat. So do his hands and his cane like a leaf in the wind. "You can't stay here any longer."

I ask him where I should go and he tells me I should already know. Then he shuts the door on me as if he's boarding up for a storm and hangs up the sign that says it's closed. A Seven Eleven that is closed is quite a sight to see.

I take a walk around the perimeter of the block, drinking my coffee. There is no sign of the brown tabby cat. It is the last thing that had given me any sense of hope. Even this old man and his Paganini carried no answers to questions. I must find some key, find some concept, find Shizuka from somewhere. It grows vaguer than clearer. The deeper into the rabbit hole, the more you get lost, I hear Shirayuki's girlish voice whisper.

As I make my way down the road, I realize I'm heading in the direction of my university campus. It might be an unconscious habit. When in doubt, revert to the old. In my mind, there is little left to hold on to. Like I've travelled into a vacuum in space, orbiting or gripped by some gravitational force without my knowing. All I can see is black space. I am moving somewhere or not moving at all, but I can't see where I am going or where I must go.

Shizuka's disappearance had been too sudden. She left a tremendous vacancy. There is no time to adjust or transition. There is no break up process. She had simply packed up and left. Right when we had been the closest to something. Something she had in mind. So utterly attainable yet in an instant, gone from our grasp. If only she had told me beforehand, I might know what to do now.

I don't know whether I should be angry with her or should I pity myself. There is nothing but the feeling of emptiness. It's a dull ache. I finish my coffee and crumple it up into a ball. I pocket the trash, like it might contain an answer some time from now and shiver in my dress shirt.

I step into the first department store I see and wander through the sections. It isn't a large place so I can keep an eye on people as I look around. No one seems to be casting any glances over. In fact, it's as if I'm invisible. I don't even receive acknowledgement from staff. I purchase a discounted black suit jacket. Something simple and clean. Just in case I would need some sort of a disguise. It's relatively easy to find a cheap suit my size: I have a typical build at a typical height. I'm about to pull out my credit card when I realize it would all be tracked and recorded. Digits, data, code, encrypted and fed into that widespread network with no end. An entire network that must be part of something called the "System". I had never found out exactly what the System is. The capitalist system? The governance of the proletariat? The electronic digitization of individuals? The Collective and the Process? The ownership of each citizen? Or something more? I pay in cash instead. It empties out my wallet entirely.

I put on the jacket and stop by a bank machine next and withdraw almost all of the savings left. They will know I've been here but I would be long gone. As long as I don't break Etiquette by a massive margin, the Images shouldn't pick up on my trail either. I put the money into envelopes, fold them and slip them into different pockets. I realize I had no notion of what to do if my savings were to run out. I had reduced myself from ever thinking much in advance. At first, it had been a stable looped cycle where I never recognized beginning or ends, cause or effect, in which all necessities happened to be covered and each day would pass in uniform. On the other hand, Shizuka would know what to do and all I had to do was trust her like some sort of crutch. But now, surely there was nothing left. I am on my own.