Sluggish Symbol, Inane Illusion Chapter 5

Chapter 5: A Digression

We are all given the right to publish, but the materials and research expenses come from our own pockets.

Unless there is a compelling reason, no one wants to spend their own money to research an unfamiliar topic for their book.

A book is a mirror that reflects the life of the person who wrote it.

The scenery in this tiny fishing village was like something from a postcard. Put simply, it was like everything was frozen in time.

“By now I hope it’s OK to ask where we are headed on this research trip.”

“That’s blatantly obvious, and I’d be strongly opposed to going somewhere that didn’t go through a station, since that would entail jumping off the train. What I’m asking is where we’ll be going after we leave the station.”

“Makes sense. Let’s do that first.”

I’ll stop asking questions. Just let her do what she wants.

She can go crazy with a sushi boat or even a grilled mutton dish.

After our conversation quickly dried up, we couldn’t help but overhear other people talking somewhere in the same train car.

One of them spoke in an exceptionally loud voice.

“I read your book, but I had no idea what was going on.”

In the seat across me, I saw Saki close her eyes. Maybe she was going to taking a nap. What happened to the research?

“The scenes flashed by so quickly, and characters who were there one moment disappeared the next, freaky stuff!”

“Wow, that’s pretty cool. Is there anybody else who is writing about that kind of thing?”

“I’m already thinking about it. It’s going to be awesome, since I’ve been thinking about it since elementary school. You going to love it!”

“No big deal, everyone has to write one anyway. Never bothered me one bit.”

“––––Sensitive topic, huh?”

“It’s not like I was sleeping.”

“It’s amazing how a book means something different to each person. To some people, it’s like a keychain they clip on their bag, and to others it’s something they store away in a drawer and don’t want to show anyone.”

“I’m sure there are some things you’d only want to show someone who doesn’t know you, right?”

I didn’t answer, but I agreed with that statement for the most part.

But there is a delicate sensibility involved here, and I can’t speak for others.

Saki took her time to pull a book from her bag.

“An indictment…”

“Interesting. So there are books like that too.”

Truly, each person’s book means something different to them.

The moment I tried to think about that, Saki smiled at me.

“For example, let’s say I didn’t have very long to live.”

“This means that everything I wrote and said would be interpreted to have special meaning, right?”

“You might call this a bit of an overgeneralization, but I feel that in this day and age, authors are too close to their books. You can think of authors and their works as being for the most part equivalent. I bet that those who are opposed to this will consider selling their book far away from their lives.”

Asking someone to evaluate a work without taking into consideration its author is no easy feat.

This can come from the author’s depth or breadth of knowledge, education, ideas, upbringing, or many other things.

A book about a beautiful girl who doesn’t have much longer to live–that would undoubtedly sell well.

She would probably prefer to––––erase pieces of herself from her book as much as possible.

Her dark eyes fixed on me.

“Before book writing became obligatory, when people died they didn’t leave behind much to remember them by. It was not uncommon for someone to only leave behind their name as the sole record of their existence.”

“But now things are different. Books remain.––––This means the thoughts of every single person remain.”

An image of a tombstone suddenly came to mind.

Tombstones that once had only names carved into them will now include the deceased’s thoughts as well.

“Exposing my bare thoughts to others would be quite indecent.”

She smiled, as if challenging me.

“Saki, it is our duty to create a story, correct?”

It was as if she was making a small act of defiance––––I thought as I nodded.

We had lunch at a tiny soba shop in the station near the train tracks. We didn’t even leave the ticket gate.

“Your taste in food is quite ordinary. But I like it.”

After spending half of the day riding on trains, we had returned to the original station we’d started from.

“What were were searching for was right under our noses.”

“But it was fun listening to everyone speaking on the train.”

Although it was kind of interesting.

Middle school kids, high school kids, graduates, even older folks.

To others, they were as important as life itself.

These kinds of thoughts had filled the train car.

And she was, undoubtedly, different than all of them.

Saki, sensing my frustration, smiled at me.

“All right, shall we get going?”

“No. We’re going on a research trip.”

She whispered in a disturbingly clear voice.

“We are going to the house of Mitsunori Sugikata––––the author of ‘Memories Traced by a Corpse’.”

=== End Chapter 5 ===

Chapter end