Espresso Love (A Dystopian Japan Novel) #Wattys2014

Cosmo Clock 21

At five p.m. we finally made our way out of the door. We had apologized for taking a picture in the shop but the man who approached us didn't look very satisfied. Quite the opposite, he seemed to have an issue with the whole concept of a couple, as if it were despicable and a disgrace to the flawless design of humanity. There was no longer a friendly smile on his face. No rows of teeth or nursery rhymes. If somehow, the man had been operating according to the will of the System, he would no doubt be more than opposed to our photographic escapade, presumably very well against Etiquette, for both the policies of the store and against standard conduct as a Japanese citizen. Somewhere, on a bureaucrat's oak desk, there must be a thick tome as extensive as the Bible, scrutinizing every subject and aspect of one's life, tens of thousands of articles, sections, items, amendments, appendixes, and small script. From tampons to tea ceremonies, customs to book distribution. A particular section might warn against photo taking in ice cream parlours. There's no need to sign such a document because it's already ingrained from birth, filtered through cultural tradition, observation and imitation, parental guidance, intensive education, mass media and peer pressure. But uncannily, every person receives the same age-old cookie-cutter conditioning no matter from what source - it's the same message. Abide by Etiquette. There's no need to change. System is everything. Whether Shizuka had redeemed me, or my mind had naturally rejected complete conditioning, is an argument of the chicken and the egg.

Outside, the sun is descending, watered down into pastel pinks and blues, whatever hues manage to pass through cloud cover, as we cut through Cosmo World, between jangling game booths and whining coasters. One plunges in front of us from above like a great arching dragon, like screaming artillery. At first, I brace for some hellish impact, but like an abyssal hole had opened up, it's swallowed without a sound.

"The coaster continues below ground," she says. "Usually the hole is surrounded by water but today they seem to have drained it."

"It's too cold to ride a coaster," I say. "They must be freezing." There are cloud puffs in front of my face. I can't make out too many passengers aboard the coasters but they are there nevertheless.

"Habits aren't easy to change."

"You mean they come every holiday?"

"Some of them."

"Aren't there better places to visit?"

"You might want to ask them."

I notice her watching the coasters and I ask if she wants to ride one.

She tells me there's not much time left. "We need to get to the top of Cosmo Clock," she says with urgency. The spokes of the wheel are churning silently in the distance.

"What exactly is up there?"

"I dreamt of it two nights ago. I saw us climbing up to the top. It seemed to take the entirety of the dream. But there was nothing else." She leans a little closer like sharing a secret.

"Do your dreams usually have meaning?"

"All of them do; I don't dream regularly. I only have visions. Otherwise it's like floating through the universe in black nothingness. I'm floating consciousness. I see the wisps and specks and dashes of humanity that make up the Collective, but nothing happens until they reach out and touch me. Every night it's like that."

"Do you ever feel lonely up there?"

Her eyes twinkle curiously. "Sometimes."

I take her hand as if I could do something for her loneliness.

"Are you less lonely when you're with me?"

She looks at me in surprise. I look away - I have never spoken with such unrestrained impulse before. Something peculiar is in the air. Perhaps it's the cascading light from Cosmo Clock. It's intoxicating, brushing the world over in opaque ink.