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  At last, I felt sea water swirling around my feet. But the human congestion remained the same, and I continued to be pushed from behind. I looked down to see the water glistening slimily with human fat. It was grey-brown in colour, like liquid mud.

  Soon I was up to my waist in muddy water, sickened by the unpleasantly lukewarm sensation of it. It was only then that I first realized the danger we might face if we kept being pushed forwards like this. Once the water came above our heads, with the mass of humanity around us as it was now, we might not even be able to tread water. Then what would happen?

  Shigenobu, already out of his depth, started clinging to my waist. I hastily threw away the basket I’d held in my hand and lifted him up in both arms.

  The water now came up to my chest. I shuddered on noticing the sensation under my feet. I’d been so preoccupied with the lukewarm feeling of the water that I’d failed to notice. For some time now, it was clear that we weren’t stepping on pebbles any more, but something soft.

  It was the bodies of drowned people. I was sure of it. The drowned bodies of children who’d become separated from their parents and had gone under the water.

  I took another good look at the faces around me. No one was calling out or making any noise. I could hear nothing but an eerie silence. That and the dimly roaring echo of the clamour from the beach.

  Everyone was smiling, as if demented with euphoria. They simply stared ahead with vacant eyes and a look of longing. Sometimes, as if wanting others to recognize their joy, they would look around, face each other, then give another smile of satisfaction. Perhaps even I, unknown to myself, might also be smiling that smile.

  The water was up to my neck now. A woman near me started to drown. I thought it might be my wife – but it wasn’t. Even so, both she and my mother must now be drowning, somewhere. As she started to go under, the woman suddenly seemed overcome, for the first time, by the fear of dying. With eyes opened wide, she desperately tried to keep the water away from her nose and mouth, and kept splashing against the surface of the water. Soon, people who were shorter than me started drowning on both sides.

  The sensation of soft meat on the soles of my feet remained as strong as ever. Drowned bodies must be piling up on the sea bed. If it weren’t for them, I thought, I would have gone under long since.

  The number of people advancing had decreased somewhat, and my field of vision was slightly broader. But I could still see no facial expressions on the procession of watermelon-heads that now floated, now sank to right and left ahead of me, as far as the eye could see. The water came up to just below my nose. My nostrils were tickled by the sickly sweet smell of sweat, rising with vapour from the water.

  The body of a drowned woman wrapped its hair around my neck. I pushed the floating corpse away and at the same moment let go of my son. He tried to cling to my chest, but I thrust him away and let him drown. Because from here on, swimming was the only way forwards. He sent air bubbles floating to the surface as he struggled, but quickly sank out of sight.

  My mind was blank through lack of sleep, and the heat. The only thought in my head, a hazy notion of unknown origin, was that I just had to keep going forwards. When they fall to their deaths at the end of their march, lemmings have no noble intention of restoring the balance of nature by keeping their numbers down. In the same way, I entertained no feeling of introspection over the abnormal wealth, the abnormal peace, or the abnormal happiness of the human race.

  There was just enough room for me to start swimming now. But, perhaps due to lack of sleep, I started to tire immediately. I looked down the line of watermelon-heads. They were thinning out now, but still stretched to the point where the sky merged with the sea. I wondered if I could really swim that far. Still I continued to move my arms and legs… automatically… automatically…

  Commuter Army

  “Huh. Now they’re recruiting day soldiers for the army! I wonder when that started?”

  An ad in the Galibian People’s Daily made me sit up that morning.

  “Conscription makes the government unpopular. But there aren’t enough volunteers. So, as a last resort, they’ve started placing recruitment ads in the newspapers. ‘Commuters Welcome,’ it says here.”

  The current Galibian government seized power following a successful coup last year. Now, they’re bending over backwards to win public support.

  “Really? That must attract a lot of people,” said my wife as she buttered some toast. “There are a lot of jobless homeowners nowadays, aren’t there. Even the unemployed have their own homes these days. So if they can commute from home instead of staying in the barracks, I should think a lot of people would be interested in signing up. I mean, instead of getting posted to the front, they can go home every night, can’t they.”

  “People get sent to the front, not posted.” I took a gulp of coffee. “But yes, it would be easy to commute to the front from here. It’s only ninety minutes by train.”

  “An hour on the fast train.”

  Galibia is currently embroiled in a border conflict with its neighbour, the People’s Republic of Gabat. The dispute revolves around a small Galibian town called Gayan, at the end of the railway line.

  “What kind of terms are they offering?” asked my wife. She can’t read a word of Galibian.

  “Pretty good ones,” I replied, glancing through the ad. “The basic salary is 120,000 Galibian dollars. Then there’s an outfit allowance of 25,000 dollars, paid on signing up. Pay rises and bonuses are given twice a year when winning the war, once when losing. There’s also 5,000 dollars in ‘fight money’ for each battle you take part in. They even give prizes for fighting spirit. Sickness benefits and health insurance are covered. Well, that goes without saying. There’s no unemployment insurance, of course. I mean, what would everyone do if the war ended?! Oh and look. They even pay travel expenses. In full. Lunch is provided. Hey! And you get two days off per week! Even paid holidays. Part-timers welcome, it says.”

  “Goodness!” My wife sighed, her eyes growing steadily wider. “So you could get much more than you do now. What qualifications would you need?”

  “Hold on! You’re not asking me to sign up, are you?!” I said with a laugh. I looked back at the ad. “All ages welcome, no experience required, it says. Oh. Applicants with a driving licence get priority treatment. Other particulars to be arranged by personal interview. In other words, the more qualifications you have, the more pay you get.”

  “Well, I’m sure you’d do very well there, honey. After all, you’re an expert on guns, aren’t you.”

  “Yes, I suppose I am,” I said, forcing a smile. “But if they’re recruiting so many soldiers, they’re sure to need more guns, aren’t they. Then the Army Ministry will order more from our company. So rather than actually going to war myself, it would be much easier to wait here for those orders, wouldn’t it.”

  “Well, yes, I suppose that would be easier. For you.” A familiar look came over my wife’s face. I braced myself for the usual onslaught. “Thankfully, things are cheap here, so we can just get by on your salary, plus the overseas allowance.”

  By “things are cheap,” what she really meant was that there weren’t any luxury goods for her to buy.

  The customary moans were now imminent – when could we go home, when could we have children without worrying, and so on. I quickly left the table.

  “Right. I’m off to work.”

  “Work” is actually a five-minute walk away. From our one-room rented apartment, along the main road, to the office building that houses the Galibian Branch of Sanko Industries. I’m the Branch Manager. My staff consists of a single secretary, a local man called Purasarto.

  As I walked in, Purasarto came up to me with a memo. “I’ve just had a call from the Army Ministry,” he said. “It’s about the five hundred rifles we delivered recently. They say they don’t work properly.”

  I stopped dead in front of my desk. “What, all five hundred?”

  “It
seems so. But they only realized they were faulty when they tried to use them at Gayan. As a result, we’re losing the war.”

  “Oh my God.” I slumped down at the desk and put my head in my hands. “So the General must be pretty mad, then?”

  “Hopping! He wants to see you right away.”

  I got up with a groan from the chair I’d just occupied. “There’s nothing for it. I’ll go now.”

  “Er…” Purasarto added nervously. “There’s something else.”

  “What?”

  “I want to quit. They’ve been advertising for day soldiers in the newspaper, and I’d like to apply.”

  “Well, I can understand that. You’ve got your own home, and three children to feed. I’m sure you could do with the money. But you can’t leave just like that. I’m sorry. What, I suppose it’s the idea of commuting that attracts you, is it?”

  “Yes. And the pay would be much higher than what I’m getting here.”

  “But if you go to war, you might die. Have you thought of that?”

  “I have,” Purasarto answered with a smile. “But we all have to die some time.”

  The Galibians’ lack of concern for human life was rather worrying.

  “You can’t quit now. Wait till I find a replacement.”

  If most Galibian men were signing up as day soldiers, only the women would be left. So maybe I could hire a beautiful young female secretary next, I thought as I left the office.

  I hopped into one of those tricycle-taxis, like the ones found all over Southeast Asia. Just three blocks along the main road stood the Galibian Army Ministry. Wiping the sweat from my brow, I showed my pass at Reception and went through to the General’s office. He was bellowing into the telephone, his face resembling some kind of mad fiend. When he saw me, he replaced the receiver neatly and stood up, ready to sink his teeth in.

  “Thanks to your rifles, three battalions have been wiped out! What are you going to do about it?! Give us our money back!”

  “Calm down, please!” I called out in desperation. “I’m sure those rifles were checked most rigorously before being shipped out. What exactly is wrong with them?”

  “What isn’t wrong with them?!” the General yelled, spitting everywhere. “We’ve only had them three days, and now they jam after the first shot. So they can’t be fired consecutively. You know what that means? We use them when charging the enemy. So we fire the first shot, then rush at them. But the second shot won’t fire. It’s a bloody massacre! How do you intend to account for this? If I don’t get good service from you, I’m going to complain to your government. We might even declare war!”

  “Please don’t joke. If you do that, my company will go bankrupt and I’ll be out on the street,” I shrieked. “Anyway, could you show me one of these faulty rifles?”

  “Here’s one. It’s just come back from Gayan.” The General plucked a rifle from his desk and angrily tossed it towards me.

  I dismantled the rifle and carefully examined the faulty part. “Ah. Well, this will be easy to repair,” I said with some relief. “The screw in the trigger spring axle has come loose. That means that, even though gas is released when the first shot is fired, the bolt doesn’t return automatically. All we have to do is tighten the screw.”

  “So that screw was loose on all five hundred rifles?” the General asked, rather more calmly.

  “Yes, I’m really sorry. You’ll have to recall all five hundred.”

  “IMPOSSIBLE!!!” the General roared once more. “We’re at war, for God’s sake! Those rifles are being used in fighting as we speak! Call it what you like! If we can’t shoot consecutively, we’ll lose the war!”

  “So, well, what do you want me to do about it?” I asked timidly.

  “Go to Gayan,” the General replied, with a look of menace. “Wait at the battle zone, and when a rifle stops working, repair it on the spot!”

  A shiver went through me. “I’m J-J-Japanese! I can’t go to a w-war zone. If I did, I’d be a combatant – I’d be taking part in the war!”

  The General pursed his lips. “You’re already taking part in the war, aren’t you? You’re supplying weapons to our country. What bigger part could you be taking?”

  “But what if I get hit by a bullet and die?” I whined. “You’d have forced a Japanese citizen to die in a war. It could spark an in ternational crisis.”

  “Our governments would hush it up. Don’t worry. We’ll send your remains home.”

  “Remains?! That’s what I’m worried about!!”

  “Oh? You mean you’re scared of war?” The General stared me in the face, as if surprised. “Haven’t the Japanese always been war animals, even after the last one ended? I thought you were always ready to give up your lives for your Emperor, or your company, with your famous kamikaze spirit!” He sighed. “Well, never mind. If that’s the way you feel, we’ll order our guns from another company in future. They’ll be more expensive, but that can’t be helped. Then we’ll lodge a formal protest with the Japanese government and, depending on the answer, we’ll declare war.”

  “W-w-wait a minute! I’m only a company employee. I can’t just go doing as I please. I’ll telephone Head Office in Tokyo and see what they say.” Surely Head Office wouldn’t make me go to the war zone!

  “By all means,” answered the General with an air of smugness. “Of course, they’ll tell you to go to the war zone.” He laughed. “Actually, I just called them myself.”

  “What?!”

  “They said that if the fault can be repaired on the spot, we can enlist you in our army and send you to the front on a daily basis, as a commuting conscript.” The General nodded approvingly. “Your superior gave the OK.”

  “The bastard!” I held my head. “It’s jealousy. That’s what it is. He fancies my wife and envies me because of her. It’s a trick to get his hands on my wife!”

  The General smiled. “No. I’m afraid the order came from your President.”

  An order from the President? What could I do?

  My shoulders sank. “Even so, there’s no need for me to join your army, is there?” I asked, expecting the worst.

  He pulled a stern face. “What do you mean? You can’t go wandering around the battle zone in civilian clothes. It’s bad for discipline. You’ll be drafted to the Third Platoon of the Second Infantry Battalion. You start tomorrow. Report to Position 23 in the suburbs of Gayan at nine o’clock sharp.”

  “You mean… it’s already been decided?” I groaned pathetically.

  “Come on, don’t look so disappointed,” he said, suddenly changing his expression to an amiable smile. “After all, you’ll get paid, won’t you? And since you’re a rifle expert, you’ll get a special allowance as well.”

  “You’re going to pay me?” I blinked. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Actually, my wife was just talking about that this morning.”

  “Your wife? What about her?”

  “No, well… I mean…” I was wavering. “Well, anyway, I’ll have to check it with her… You know…”

  “Oh, come now!” The General sounded confident again. “When she hears how much you’re getting, she’ll be pushing you out of the door!”

  She probably will, I thought. She’d led such a pampered life that she was completely oblivious to the horrors of war.

  “I’ll have your things ready by this evening – ID tag, uniform, equipment, all that. Come back later,” he said casually, then returned to the telephone. “Get me General Staff Headquarters,” he barked. “Is that you, Colonel? Well, the rifle business is sorted. One of their chaps will join the Second Infantry Battalion tomorrow. He’ll be reporting to the front every day. Oh, and about those women for the officers. There’ll be six of them coming on the fast train at 19.00 hours tonight. What’s that? You don’t need that many? Oh, go on. You can have four or five to yourself!”

  I left the room in utter devastation, the General’s laughter still ringing out behind me. Try as I might, I couldn’t see
any way out of it. Of course, I could just quit my job. But I didn’t have the guts to do that. Because, if anything, being out of a job scared me even more than going to war.

  On my return to the office, I found Purasarto talking to a local woman in the reception lounge. She was fair of skin and voluptuous of body, a woman of striking beauty.

  Purasarto stood and introduced her. “Sir. This lady has come about the vacancy. She’s an acquaintance of mine, actually. She comes from a good family, and has just graduated from university.” He must have been desperate to leave – he’d already found his own replacement!

  The woman also stood, and introduced herself with a warm, winsome smile. The demon of amorous adventure began to stir within me. But I patted him down and shook my head. This was no time to be getting amorous with any secretary.

  “There is no vacancy,” I said, then sat at my desk and picked up the phone. “This is not the time for that.”

  Purasarto shrugged. The woman struck a coquettish pose. “What a pity,” she said. “I would love to have worked here.”

  “I would love to have had you, believe me,” I replied with total sincerity.

  I dialled Head Office in Tokyo. It was the Department Manager, my boss, who answered.

  “Well, hello there!” he said, laughing.

  “This is no laughing matter!” I countered. “It’s not my fault those rifles are defective! So why do I have to go to the front to repair them? More to the point, why weren’t they checked properly before being shipped out?” I knew it was useless saying anything now. But I just had to have my halfpennyworth.

  “Apparently, there was an oversight at the factory,” he replied nonchalantly. “It seems they let some part-timers do the final assembly.”

  “In that case, send an engineer from the factory! Let him go to the war zone! That’s what anybody else would do!”

  “Yes, maybe. But I’m afraid it’s not possible. We’re understaffed as it is, you see. And anyway, if we sent someone from here, he wouldn’t arrive in time. All the Branch Offices send their staff out for simple repairs, after all.”