No. 6 Vol 3 Chapter 2.1

[Novel] NO. 6 - Vol 3 Ch 2 (a)

These are English translations for the novel NO. 6 by Asano Atsuko.

 

* * *

CHAPTER 2
Tranquil Scenes

I am the one without hope, the word without echoes,

In my barren land you are the final rose.

- Neruda, Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair [1]

In No. 6, those under forty years of age consisted the majority of the age demographic. It was a young city. Because of this, the odd elderly person she pa.s.sed on the street stood out all the more sorely.

I'd do anything to avoid growing old.

She was sick of seeing obese, white-haired women; k.n.o.bbly, wrinkly old men and the like. 

The woman worked as a nurse in the Munic.i.p.al Central Hospital, which was directly managed by the Health and Hygiene Bureau. She was currently in charge of the elderly wing. Despite the fact that she loathed them, she had to deal with the elderly every day.

Why do they bother even staying alive?

The woman swept a hand through her long, chestnut-brown hair which she prided herself upon. She couldn't bear the thought of this hair turning white, and having wrinkles and spots appear on her face. I'd rather die before I end up looking like that.

She was serious. No. 6 had top-notch terminal care. Some said that no other city could compare.

Once the elderly reached a certain age and received a notification from the city, they were ent.i.tled to live in a place called the Twilight Cottage, regardless of their social cla.s.s, s.e.x, or personal history.

The Twilight Cottage was an ideal facility that the city had built so that the elderly could spend the rest of their lives in abundance and comfort. People said it was like heaven for them: medical facilities for palliative care were a given; all things that threatened to hurt them, whether it be pain, suffering, or distress, were removed. It was a facility under direct control of the city, and from the woman's workplace at the Central Hospital, a few elderly people would be escorted to Twilight Cottage each week. It was not disclosed what age or what criteria determined when people were sent to the Cottage. Though not many, there were still some elderly who died from illness or unfortunate accident even before obtaining the right to live in the Twilight Cottage. That was why the elderly unanimously rejoiced upon receiving news of residency.

It was the same with the woman whose application for residency had pa.s.sed yesterday. She was ill with a disease that had been declared incurable even by No. 6's stellar medical technology.

"I'm so glad. Now I can spend the rest of my few years in peace. I give my grat.i.tude to G.o.d and the city for their compa.s.sion."

The woman, who had said she was a strong believer in G.o.d, had clasped her hands at her breast, and had murmured words of prayer before leaving the hospital wing.

The Twilight Cottage. The woman didn't know where it was located. The city had also not disclosed its address. But the woman had no interest whatsoever in the Twilight Cottage.

The woman hated elderly people. Her disgust was a side of the same coin of fear that she felt toward growing old herself. The woman was young and beautiful. She wanted to stay young and beautiful forever. Through her work, she had heard rumours that the city was focusing more than ever its medical research on understanding the mechanism of life. She had also heard that amongst that, the city was investing considerable funds in molecular research having to do with ageing.

If a drug to suppress ageing were to be developed ― if she could stay like this, and never grow old ― how splendid it would be. She wanted them to succeed soon, as soon as possible.

She was almost at the station. Her parents were waiting at home, in a little house in a town two stations away. A man and woman just entering their senior years, they were both harpy, neurotic, and pretentious. They still complained that their daughter had not been ranked highest by the city in any field. She didn't want to grow old like that.

The woman stepped into view of the reflective shop window. I'm on my way home from work, so I guess it can't be helped that I look a little tired. But, still beautiful. My hair, my skin ― still youthful, still beautiful.

She would do some shopping before going home. In the shop window, she could see the lavish dresses, tasteful shoes, and practical pantsuits that lined the store. In this city, she could attain whatever she desired. Of course, they were limited to things within her financial range.

Excluding the small part of the population that wallowed piteously in Lost Town, city residents had no problem obtaining everything they needed, as long as they weren't after the most premium-cla.s.s things. They could obtain clothes, food, and residence without difficulty.

It wasn't nearly as good as it was for Chronos residents, but it was much better than the people of Lost Town. She lived a relatively comfortable life.

The woman was satisfied with her position. She wanted to enjoy more of her youth, her beauty, comfort, and the life that lay ahead of her.

Her feet stopped. A pair of shoes displayed in the window had caught her eye. They were light-pink pumps. Winter had just begun, but the spring collection was already being put out. The pink pumps glowed: there they were, earlier than any other store; faster than anyone else; ahead, ahead; forward, forward, they invited her.

The Holy Celebration was next week. It was a day that marked the founding of the city. Parties and celebratory events would be held all over town. The woman, too, was planning to attend two parties.

I'll buy these shoes. And I'll buy a light-peach dress to match. It'll look splendid on me, I just know it.

Just as a satisfied smile spread over her face, she was struck with a sudden dizziness. After her brief bout, the base of her neck grew hot.

What's wrong with me? ― I feel tired ― My body feels heavy.

Her legs felt weak. She felt nauseous.

I have to rest somewhere...

She entered an alleyway between two shops. There was supposed to be a clinic run by the Central Hospital through this alley.

I just have to get there...

Her neck was burning. She felt like there was something wriggling underneath her skin. She felt the unfamiliar and disturbing sensation of her body being wrung dry.

What―?

She staggered, and collapsed. Her purse flew open, and its contents scattered. The woman extended her hand to pick her things up, and screamed when she realized what she saw.

Spots ― black spots, like senile plaque, and several of them, were appearing. Her skin rapidly lost moisture and began to crack.

This can't be―what―what's happening―?

The woman s.n.a.t.c.hed her mirror, and peered into it. She shrieked again. But her voice was hoa.r.s.e, and what came out was barely a whisper.

My face― my face―

Her face, which had been so beautiful moments before, was changing rapidly before her eyes. Wrinkles creased her skin, spots marred it, and her hair began falling out.

Something wriggled at the base of her neck. There was something living inside her body. The woman, seized by fear, realized that her body was being taken over by something else.

No, help me― Mom―Dad― save me―

The faces of her mother and father appeared before her eyes.

Mom, Dad...

Her fingers, extended in plea, grasped thin air. Unconsciousness overcame her.

Karan sat on the bench, and heaved a sigh, one of many she had heaved today. She knew sighing was useless. She could cry out, she could throw herself on the ground, but reality would not budge. It would not change. Then, at least, she would remain defiant. She would square her shoulders, hold her head high, and be unashamed.

That was what she thought, but shortly afterwards, a sigh would escape her lips.

I can't do anything. I'm powerless...

Karan tried opening both hands palm-up in her lap. The gentle rays of the winter sun shone down on her white palms. She felt another sigh about to come.

Karan had closed her small bakery in a corner of Lost Town today, and spent half of the day walking around. She had embarked to visit Safu, in her and her grandmother's house in the luxury neighbourhood of Chronos.

If residents were acknowledged by the city as being of highest rank in one of various fields, they were permitted to live in Chronos, regardless of s.e.x, upbringing, or family structure. The city provided housing, as well as an ideal environment suited for the growth and development of each skill.

When her son s.h.i.+on had been ranked top-level for intelligence in his Two-Year-Olds' Examinations, Karan had also been given a residence in Chronos. Comfortable living arrangements, and a lifetime of insurance ― as an elite, thanks to her son, who would probably eventually work his way up to the upper echelons of No. 6, Karan was in a position that many envied and desired.

A position that many envied and desired ― it was a life of comfort, free of the need to worry of tomorrow's sorrows; free whatsoever of hunger or violence; a life where indoor environment, security, hygiene, and physical conditions were all monitored.

Karan slowly clenched her hand. Her fingers, which were smooth and soft when she had lived in Chronos, had become rough and worn from her work in Lost Town, and her skin sometimes cracked and bled.

But until I lost s.h.i.+on, I was happier than when I was at Chronos. Much happier.

Karan had never adjusted well to a life where every minute aspect was managed and checked upon, and had begun to feel a sort of terror that her nerves were unravelling. That was why, when s.h.i.+on had committed a taboo and engaged in the unbelievable act of sheltering an escaped convict, she had felt ― more than surprise, more than despair ― a sense of release, even. She even found herself enjoying it.

Of course, she knew in her rational mind that it meant all of their special privileges would be revoked, as well as the right to live in Chronos, and that the path to s.h.i.+on's future would be closed forever. But she had still enjoyed it.

She wanted to praise rather than reprimand the actions of her son, which were so foolish for one with such a level of intelligence. s.h.i.+on had thrown away his life in Chronos so easily. Rather than his stable and insured life, he had chosen the road to protect one who had fled into his room one stormy night. It was a blunder, if anything. But he had not been wrong in committing it.

It meant that s.h.i.+on had also not seen much meaning in life at Chronos. To him, it was something he could throw easily away. He had only discarded what was meaningless to him. And that was not wrong at all.

"Mom, I'm sorry."

On their first night moving into Lost Town, twelve-year-old s.h.i.+on had hung his head as he apologized to his mother.

"Sorry for what?"

"Because... Mom, you... you have to go out and work now."

s.h.i.+on's crime had been a.s.sisting in hiding and aiding the escape of a violent criminal, called a VC in No. 6. With regards to his age, he had been let off only with exile from Chronos. But in turn, he was forbidden to live anywhere other than the city's lowest-cla.s.s residential area of Lost Town. Mother and son had slid from the crest of the mountaintop to valley-bottom in a mere night. First things first, they had to think of a means of living for the future.

"I'm sorry."

His drawn chin, which still carried a semblance of boyishness, trembled. Karan wrapped her arm around her son's shoulders in a firm embrace.

"What a stupid thing to say," she said softly. "You shouldn't be apologizing for something like that."

"But―"

"s.h.i.+on, are you Mommy, or am I? I think you've got your roles mixed up," she scolded in mock sternness. "I'm a lot tougher than you might think. I bet you didn't know that, did you?"

"No."

"Then that's something you can look forward to. You'll see how tough your mommy can be, real soon. It'll blow you away."

In her arms, s.h.i.+on gave a quiet laugh.

How many years had it been since she had last embraced her son like this? That day, in the dark, damp room that had once been storage for building materials, what Karan had felt was neither despair nor woe. It was the joy of her child's warmth in her arms, and the sense of fulfilment only motherhood could bring.

"What kind of person was he?"

"Huh?"

"The person you took under your wing. I was just wondering what he was like. I'm curious to know ― but you wouldn't tell me, right?"

s.h.i.+on's body shrank away from her as if he had been stung. His pout and his flushed cheeks struck her as so humorous that Karan couldn't help but smile.

"G'night," s.h.i.+on mumbled, and with the expression still on his face, hastily trotted out of the room. Even after the rickety door had closed with a loud noise, Karan was still smiling.

She wondered what kind of boy he had been. What kind of boy had made s.h.i.+on leave Chronos behind? What about this boy was s.h.i.+on drawn to, and dazzled by?

She wanted to know, but s.h.i.+on would probably never put it into words. Children learned to hide their feelings, or encountered something that made them, and that was how they grew up. Maybe she would never be able to draw her son close again like this, without hesitation.

Just as how a fully-fledged bird spreads its young wings to leave its nest, Karan knew that she would have to part with s.h.i.+on someday. She was prepared. If she could see her son off as he took flight, she figured it would be a joyous thing as a mother. So starting tomorrow, she would pour herself into work.

True to her vow, for four years at Lost Town, Karan worked tirelessly. She started with baking bread and selling it out on the street; eventually, she outfitted a corner of their abode into a bakery, and increased the variety of her goods. Her affordable and tasty breads and cakes enjoyed popularity in Lost Town, where there were few such luxuries. The business grew, and supported their household of two.

Small children showed up to buy m.u.f.fins, out of breath and with coins clasped tightly in their little fists. An elderly labourer came to buy a cake to give as a gift to his grandchildren. There were customers that came first thing in the morning to buy fresh loaves of bread.

Karan was satisfied with her life in Lost Town. It was not bravado; nor was she trying to fool herself. She hadn't a thread of attachment left for Chronos. She was working, and reaping its rewards. It was a life that they had built up with their own hands, with their feet firmly planted on the ground. She desired nothing more.

Karan was, in her own way, happy ― until that day had come.

One day, s.h.i.+on had simply disappeared. He had left in the morning for his workplace at the Forest Park Administration Office, never to return home. This was far from the kind of parting she had steeled herself to face as a mother. This was no natural way to part ― it was so irregular, so sudden, so cruel. She realized how naive and dreamy she had been in thinking that she would see her son off as he took flight from the parental nest.

He had been put under arrest as a suspect of a violent crime, and been incarcerated in the Correctional Facility.

When she had received word from the Security Bureau, Karan experienced the full extent of the ugliness of despair. Despair meant being spun into the folds of deepest darkness. The darkness slithered its way into her body, and numbed her hands and feet. How irresistible death had seemed then.

But there was someone who had given her hope to live. Nezumi. He had contacted her to let her know that s.h.i.+on was alive and in the West Block. He had delivered s.h.i.+on's short letter to her. How beautiful was the small light that had glittered in the midst of her dark despair.

The hasty scribble of just a few words had become a streak of light that tore through the darkness, and became the voice that whispered life into her ear.

Karan opened her store, and continued to bake bread. Until s.h.i.+on came home, she would grit her teeth and wait. She would keep waiting. Nezumi had brought her the strength to do it. At times, she was still overwhelmed with anxiety and the urge to scream, but Karan's daily life was gradually regaining its stability. It was around this time that Safu had appeared at her door.

Safu, like s.h.i.+on, had also been acknowledged as highest-ranking in intelligence. She was a girl whose large, black eyes stood out defined on her face; and she had an honest gaze. Safu, with few words but a strong will, had spoke of her love for s.h.i.+on, and had proclaimed that she was going to the West Block to see him.

"It doesn't matter to me. Even if I could never come back here again, I wouldn't regret it. If s.h.i.+on is in the West Block, that's where I'm going."

"I want to see him. I want to see s.h.i.+on."

"I... I love him. From the bottom of my heart, I've always, always, loved only him."

The sixteen-year-old girl had formed these words, fighting back her tears; and for their simplicity and awkwardness, they had touched Karan's heart all the more. But moved as though she was, she could not let Safu go to the West Block. As s.h.i.+on's mother, and as grown adult, she had to stop her.

Safu left her store, and Karan had followed shortly afterwards. What she witnessed was the kidnapping of Safu by Security Bureau officials.

It had already been three days since then.

"Safu..." At her wit's end, Karan let another sigh escape her lips. She had not the faintest idea what she was to do next. She had pa.s.sed a memo to the small messenger mouse. That was all she had done.

Would Nezumi save the girl as he did with s.h.i.+on? If she was already imprisoned in the Correctional Facility, it seemed almost impossible to save her. If s.h.i.+on found out, and set out to the Correctional Facility to save Safu, perhaps this time he would really be killed. Maybe I've done something rash― There was no way Nezumi would take such a risk to save a complete stranger. Her feelings shredded into little ribbons, and made her fingers tremble.

Karan had spent these past three days hardly sleeping or eating. She was physically and mentally exhausted, and yet was unable to stay still, and had come all the way here, close to where Safu used to live.

The luxury neighbourhood of Chronos.

Abundant greenery, and a tranquil environment. A fully-functioning security system. Various facilities, for medical care, entertainment, and shopping were provided in full, and residents could use them freely with only their ID card. Even within the Holy City of No. 6, Chronos was of a different cla.s.s still, a residence beyond anyone's wildest dreams.

Although Karan had been a resident here only a few years ago, this time she was prevented from even entering the streets. As soon as she had stepped onto the cobblestone path that led into Chronos, the gates had closed.

We are very sorry. Due to concerns for safety, the area past this point is accessible to Chronos residents only. Thank you for your understanding. Further, anyone who pa.s.ses the gates without a Entrance Permit for Special Residential Districts issued by the authorities is subject to removal from the premises and punishable by munic.i.p.al law Article 203 Clause 42. I repeat ― Due to concerns for safety...

A gentle female voice flowed forth. The surveillance camera attached to the chalk-white gates silently captured Karan as she stood with her feet rooted to the ground. If she remained unmoving here, the soft voice would turn into a shrill alarm, and Security Bureau officials would burst onto the scene. Karan had no choice but to turn her back on the gate, bite her lip, and go back the way she had come.

And now, in a corner of the Forest Park, she was sitting on a bench under a large tree that had lost all of its leaves. She sat, staring absently down at her hands.

"s.h.i.+on... Safu..."

Why am I so powerless? I've been living for decades, I'm a parent, I'm an adult, and I can't even help two young people who are in the middle of a crisis. I've been alive for so long, and yet―

Karan lifted her face. An emotion quite different from dread or anxiety flitted across a corner of her heart. In the years that No. 6 shaped itself and began maturing as an independent city, Karan lived in its interior as a resident.

Six cities were founded in this world, building upon the numerous blunders that humankind had caused. It was a place free of war or hunger, and people could live here in peace and freedom. Here, the people could live from birth to death in safety, bliss, and tranquility. That was how it was supposed to be. She had never thought deeply about it. Everyone thought that as long as they stayed in No. 6, they would be promised a fulfilling life.

They thought ― they had thought ― they had been taught into thinking.

She clenched her fingers, and bit her lip harder.

This is all a lie. Everything― it's all just an appearance.

She whispered without putting it into words. Though it was on the verge of winter, she was starting to perspire.

They were divided into countless cla.s.ses by their ID chips so that they weren't even free to travel inside the city. Her son had been taken forcibly into custody, and she was not permitted even to make a formal objection. She couldn't even confirm the safety of another resident who had been seized by the authorities. Where was freedom? Where was peace, safety, and a life of fulfilment? It was nowhere.

If that's true, then what have we been doing all this time? Why have we created a city like this? What have we done ― where have we gone wrong?

"Excuse me―"

Karan was jolted abruptly back to reality by a voice.

"I'm sorry. Did I surprise you?" An elderly lady wearing a small, light-blue hat was smiling at her. It was a face she didn't know.

"Ah―oh no, it's nothing," Karan said hurriedly. "I'm sorry, I was just lost a little in thought... is there something―?"

"Would you mind if I sat down beside you?"

"Not at all― please."

The woman, still smiling, lowered herself into her seat beside Karan.

"What splendid weather it is, don't you think? So nice."

"Yes, it is." The weather was the last thing on her mind. For the past few days, she had felt nothing in the colour of the sky, the sound of the wind, or the sight of the trees.

"You must have thought me a rather rude old crone for suddenly speaking to you like that, I suppose?" the woman said mildly.

"No no, of course not. I was just a little surprised. I was thinking about something, and I hadn't noticed that you were standing there."

The madam pushed her round spectacles up her nose, and her face turned serious.

"You see, that's exactly why I decided to speak to you."

"I'm sorry?"

The woman was wearing a silver ring. Her fingers extended to clasp around Karan's hand. 

"Please, I don't want you to be offended. I know very well that I'm being meddlesome." She hesitated. "But you had such a forlorn look on your face, I just couldn't go without doing something."

Oh, Karan said softly, her hands still clasped in the woman's.

"And that was why you took the time to speak to me?"

"Oh yes. There you were, on such a fine day, on such a splendid afternoon, looking as troubled as ever. You were sitting alone, limp on the bench, with your head bowed. There was no way I couldn't go without saying something."

The elderly woman tightened her fingers around Karan's hands, and wrapped them tenderly in her own hands.

"Why is a lady so young and beautiful as you, sitting with such a face? Has something happened?"

The pair of eyes behind the spectacles were soothing and gentle. Above their heads, the branches of a beech tree were swaying.

"Thank you for your concern. I've just been going through a bit of trouble..."

"Yes, I understand," the woman said sympathetically. "There was a time in my life, too, when I was burdened terribly with troubles." Her aged but dignified countenance clouded slightly. Karan's heart leapt for an instant.

Were there other people brooding like her? Were other people suffering like her? Had other people realized the city's contradictions as well?

"It was devastating, even though it happened decades ago. ―I lost my son to an illness."

"My, an illness," murmured Karan.

"Yes, and he was only three. When he died, I still remember crying uncontrollably when I saw how small his coffin was. You would understand, wouldn't you, the feelings of a mother who's lost her son?"

Karan tried to nod, and drew her chin back just in time. s.h.i.+on was still alive.I haven't lost my son yet.

"I can't quite say that I do understand―" she said slowly, "but you must have suffered so."

"Indeed, I did. Words couldn't describe what I went through. Many times, I thought how much better it would be if I were dead. But now, I'm glad I'm alive. I couldn't be happier, living in such a brilliant city, surrounded by my children and grandchildren."

The woman smiled, and cast her gaze around her.

"I would've wanted my son to experience growing up here. No― if medical care at No. 6 had been what it is now, I'm sure he wouldn't have had to die."

Karan softly drew her hand back. The elderly madam's gaze wandered into the sky as she continued talking. Her lips were still turned up in a vague smile.

"I really do think this place is a utopia. You know, I say this to my grandchildren very often. I say, you must be grateful for being born here. They just look puzzled, of course ― but that's when I tell them about the West Block."

"The West Block?" Karan's heart quickened again, for an entirely different reason this time.

"Yes, the West Block. Do you know what sort of place it is?"

Karan leaned forward. She wanted to know. The West Block was where s.h.i.+on was, and she wanted to know the details, what sort of place it was.

"I haven't the faintest idea. Please tell me."

The lady furrowed her brow, and shook her head.

"I don't know much about it, myself. But my nephew works at the Access Control Office, and I hear stories from him sometimes. It's a horrible place, I hear."

Karan restrained her impatient heart, and murmured in a.s.sent. She wanted to encourage the madam to continue her story.

"The hygiene there is absolutely atrocious, and I hear the children have to drink contaminated water."

"Contaminated..."

"Yes, isn't it just horrid? I feel such pity for them, my heart aches. Compared to that, the children in this city couldn't be happier. Wouldn't you agree?"

"What? I mean― yes, but..."

"That's why over there, they're plagued with contagious diseases all the time, ones we could never imagine within No. 6. Crime is a daily occurrence, and safety is almost nonexistent. The residents of that Block are all uneducated, savage, and most will even kill a man without batting an eye if it means money for them. Just recently, I heard a group of violent men tried to force their way into the Control Office. Of course, since their security system was perfect, they were arrested before they even set foot inside. It's frightening, really."

The lady wrapped her arms around herself and s.h.i.+vered.

"My nephew told me the place is like a h.e.l.l, the basest, worst possible environment. It must be ever so different from here. We must rejoice too, that we're residents of No. 6 ― not just our children. As for myself, I'm not afraid to tell my grandchildren how fortunate they are as No. 6 residents, compared to the West Block."

The West Block. The basest, worst possible environment.

Karan closed her eyes. s.h.i.+on's handwriting floated up in her mind. It was a mere scribble, and only one line long. It was a slightly slanted, distinctive hand.

The letters were br.i.m.m.i.n.g with energy. It was writing that radiated youthful vigour for life. He was alive in the West Block. Ever so strongly, even now, he was continuing to live on.

"Is something the matter?"

She opened her eyes at the elderly lady's words.

"Are you feeling ill? Shall I contact the Health and Hygiene Bureau?"

Karan slowly shook her head.

"I don't think so."

"Pardon me?"

"I don't think the West Block is the basest, nor the worst."

"Why, what―"

"And I don't think―"

I don't think this city is a utopia, either.

Just as she was about to say those words, there was a sound, a flurry of beating wings, and a black object came flying at her from above.

Notes

Neruda, Pablo. "VIII: White Bee." Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair. Trans. William S. Merwin. New York: Penguin Books, 2004. (back) Font credit to Ingo Zimmermann for Biro Script (s.h.i.+on).