Espresso Love (A Dystopian Japan Novel) #Wattys2014

Hole in the Ground

We head outside into the backyard. It's surprisingly vast. It seems like the house had been compacted into a little flimsy box on purpose to leave room for a yard. The garden is taken care of very well. Built and arranged in the style of a Japanese garden, stones and ponds snake around the space, swerving up to my feet, in an explicitly simple fashion. Yet at the same time, it's remarkably intricate. Around the borders are alternating shrub trims and bamboo with a delicate stone arch similar to a bridge hovering over a pond. The longer I stare, the more it sinks on me, like being enveloped by a solemn blanket of peace. The balance between proportions reaches its perfection over time and manufactures an absolute meditation. It engages the spirit and clears away the mind. No exceptions. My thoughts begin to slow.

But we press on; the woman doesn't stop to take a look. There's a high wall around on all sides and behind is an alleyway between the houses in the neighbourhood. From here, it doesn't look like anyone would be able to see us. At the far corner, there's a shack of some kind. It's towards this shack we walk, along a narrow, raised wooden pathway through the garden.

Inside the shed, are a few garden tools and bags of fertilizer, soil and round pebbles. She walks right into the middle of the shack and stoops down.

"Mr. Maeda," she says, looking up straight at me, "how do you feel about holes?"

"Excuse me?"

"There are holes of all sizes, and you always enter some kind of hole, whether they are doors into buildings, trains entering tunnels, climbing down a well or during intercourse with a woman. Or maybe if you must enter your own heart or something abstract like that." She pauses half a second. "I'd imagine entering holes of some kind is always a form of travel, literally or figuratively."

I remain silent.

"You did say you would believe, yes?"

I nod.

"There's no other choice but to enter through here at the moment, I'm afraid. The other entrance is inaccessible and quite far from here."

"Is the plantation underground?"

"Yes, it's underground, so we will be entering through a hole. There are no stairs or proper doorway, because we wouldn't normally enter through here and the establishment is somewhat sensitive and confidential. But since you agreed to believe and would like to see it, and I can tell you're not a man who intends harm, I have no choice but to lead you in through here."

"I wouldn't ever dream of harming you or your establishment. I think what you're doing is very noble and ambitious."

"Thank you. But I do believe you know we own the Resso Coffee franchise?"

I nod again. Whenever she speaks, I feel like I am a child speaking to an authority figure. Maybe a teacher or a counsellor. She carries herself with an aura of elegance and wisdom, even as she is stooped over something.

"There are many who intend us harm. But you do not, that's all I need to know. I will have a fresh coffee cherry for you when we enter this place."

"Thank you."

"Well, let us go then." She taps on the ground. Once, twice, three times. The ground looks to be solid, perhaps a little dusty, with no indication or marks of any kind whatsoever. I can't imagine what that is meant to do. She seems to listen for a while, head inclined. Then she knocks again, once, twice, three times. We wait.

To my astonishment, there's a grating sound and a slight rumbling, and then in the ground, a black line begins to appear. It's as if someone had taken a marker and drawn a circle on the floor. She reaches for it and searches the surface with her fingers. After a while, she finds what she's looking for and takes hold of a latch. The entire circle swings upward easily, like a submarine hatch.