Pathway to Japanese Literature

“Are you, my dear readers, asking me to tell some astonishing new radio story?”
“That’s quite a predicament—lately there haven’t been any truly remarkable receiver inventions, you see.”
“Ah yes, I hear there’s been quite a fuss in recent foreign magazines about some new receiver called the Strobodine that’s being rather extravagantly touted.”
“However, I’m not particularly impressed, I must say.”
“In the end, isn't it just a variation of the beat reception method?”

"Well now, I never had the slightest intention of provoking debate with you, you understand—it's simply that while grasping for excuses about lacking any interesting manuscript worth mentioning, the edge of an argument somehow came spilling out."——

“Ah, you’ve noticed that peculiar object sitting alone in the alcove over there.”
“Precisely—just as you’ve surmised. That’s a damaged variable capacitor.”
“Half-melted, you see—the aluminum flowed out and hardened like this.”
“You’re wondering what it signifies?”

"Well now, in truth, I happen to possess one particularly reserved tale of fate regarding that object—today I shall steel myself and proceed to relate it to you."

But let me declare from the outset—it would cause me great trouble were this story published exactly as I'm about to recount it. For this is none other than the astonishing experimental account that my deceased friend Y—who stands as both this tale's protagonist and its noble experimenter—had secretly confided in me shortly before his death, under the condition that I alone would evaluate its truthfulness. Given the sensitive nature of its contents, I was compelled to swear never to divulge it to others.
My unfortunate departed friend Y——had deliberately chosen me as his sole confidant in hopes of unraveling the insoluble mystery he had long harbored in his heart alone, yet even I proved unable to furnish him with a satisfactorily clear answer.
Thus Y——retreated into even deeper disappointment, carrying the mystery unresolved into his eternal rest beneath the earth.
And what he left me at that time—this eerie memento—was none other than the broken variable capacitor you see here, which must naturally be regarded as a crucial piece of evidence from his account.

According to Y——'s confession at that time, I was both the first person to whom he recounted this mystery-shrouded tale and, simultaneously, would be the last.
As will become clear later in this account, there existed two parties who should have known precisely what these facts entailed—yet being themselves two similar secret organizations strictly forbidden from disclosing their own affairs, if any channel existed through which this astonishing truth might leak beyond their circles, it could only be accomplished by Deceased Friend Y——(or rather, to be more precise, by Y——and myself as a pair).
Now that Y—— had abandoned disclosing it to anyone besides myself and moreover passed away, that secret was now preserved solely by me alone.
It remained an unresolved mystery.
In this lay my regret—nay, even a sense of duty that I felt compelled to bear.
Such feelings were what drove me to resolve—even at the cost of shattering the chains of my vow—to entrust you with this account.
Was it plausible reality or Y——'s delusion? That was what you must naturally answer for me after this tale concluded.

——

Let me begin that story.
Just as I had heard it from Y——, I resolved to imitate his tone and relate the account.
Therefore, you must understand that in the tale which follows, when "I" appears, it refers to none other than Y—— himself.

＊ ＊ ＊

Ever since my boyhood days, as a radio enthusiast devoted to radio research, I had nurtured an endless yearning for that boundless space where ether waves drifted. That feeling—what one might call a 'budding love'—had strangely made my heart leap ever since that night when I first built a simple crystal receiver and picked up Choshi's wireless telegraph signals. Night after night, while probing the crystal with a needle, I would lose myself in the rhythm of Choshi Station's time signals. Even when I removed the receiver from my head and laid it on the desk, those signals still reached my ears clearly enough as I lay in bed three to four feet away. The voice of the ether-filled space! How my heart leaped with joy at hearing that! Before I knew it, night would grow late; outdoors lay wrapped in terrifying silence, and noticing how wintry gusts occasionally swept past the storm shutters, my whole body would suddenly turn cold—there were frequent times when I'd pull the quilt completely over my head and desperately try to sleep.

As years passed and time flowed by, before we knew it, broadcast wireless telephony had begun in our country as well. The ether realm had entered an era where night after night, JOAK's musical programs and radio dramas raged late into the darkness, their powerful radio wave forces running rampant with arrogant pride. I came to utterly detest how such broadcasts noisily churned up the realm of ether. I avoided listening to broadcasts out of sheer aversion. And around that time, I had embarked on experiments in transmitting and receiving shortwave wireless telegraphy—still mere rumors at that stage. The concept involved handling extremely short radio waves of about five or six meters in wavelength. Since this corresponded to roughly one percent of broadcast radio's wavelength, the receiver fortunately avoided picking up any radio broadcasts altogether.

However, it was customary for me to conduct my experiments from 10 PM, when broadcasts ended, until around dawn.
I chose such an unusual time because particularly favorable results for shortwave communication could be obtained during that period.

When I tried transmitting, I indeed confirmed that the radio waves were successfully emitted into the air, but I could not easily find anyone who would respond to my shortwave communications.
Having heard that amateur radio researchers in places like the United States and Britain had increased considerably, I repeated my experiments night after night in anticipation of such responses.
First, for about five minutes, I would transmit calling signals into the air.
Then I would switch the antenna to the receiver and spend five or even ten minutes straining my ears, listening for any response that might come from somewhere—yet never once did a reply come.
I never once gave up despite this.
I believed there must exist an amateur radio researcher like me who would call out "Hello, old man" in Morse code from somewhere at any moment.

Far from that, there were even times when I entertained such thoughts. The shortwave wireless telegraphy I was transmitting had already escaped this Earth, which was why responses never came; I would sometimes think that perhaps through this void, the signals might happen to collide with Mars or Venus and draw an unprecedented mysterious response signal from creatures dwelling there directed at me, making me unintentionally cry out in delight.

However, in reality, not a single response signal ever came in reply to my transmissions.
Until my ears ached, there was nothing but the occasional grating static noise coming through the receiver I had pressed against them, and I could not detect a single properly formed signal wave.
At times, I became convinced that this meaningless atmospheric static—grating static—grrt, grrt, grrt—must surely be the Morse code letter S from ●●●.

By the time forty days had passed since I began receiving these shortwave wireless telegraph broadcasts, even someone as curious as myself who had initiated this pursuit was growing somewhat weary of this "endless fruitless endeavor." When I became aware that this weariness had taken hold, continuing the experiments suddenly became unbearably distasteful. It was an unforgettable night—September 7th. The clock had already turned past midnight and was approaching 1:00 AM. I ceased transmission and, keeping the receiver pressed to my head—though less seeking signals than lost in contemplation—continued devising various plans for how I might find daily enjoyment once I abandoned these transmissions come tomorrow. It was then. It was precisely at that moment.—

Suddenly noticing, I could make out an extremely faint, hum-like sound coming from the depths of the receiver.
The hum would grow louder and softer until becoming completely inaudible—it was extremely unstable.
A shipwreck of radio waves, if I may call it such.
That was a signal tossed about like a leaf upon the vast sea of ether.

I suddenly felt my mind become clear.
I immediately attempted to adjust the local oscillation.
I gently adjusted the coupling.
I increased the grid and leak.
And what do you suppose happened?
At a wavelength about one meter shorter than what I had been transmitting until now, could I not distinctly hear, albeit faintly, the calling signal and distress signal being transmitted through the receiver?

I was startled, wondering if this might be a dream. Be that as it may, I immediately flipped the switch to the transmitter and sent the acknowledgment signal. The wavelength measured precisely 4.5 meters.

Soon came a raw response from the other end. Though excruciatingly faint and plagued by wavelength fluctuations that tortured my hearing nerves, as the reported content gradually clarified itself, I felt hot blood surging from my toes upward until my skull throbbed. My ears blazed like firebrands, my pulse hammered violently, and sweat had slicked the telegraph key beneath my fingertips before I realized it.
Who was this?
Where did their station lie?
What crisis unfolded there at this very moment?

It was that utterly bizarre Morse code conversation exchanged at that time which would gradually render everything clear.

“I am profoundly delighted that communication with your station has been established.”
“I am now facing profound danger.”
“Is our signal weak?”

“Your station’s signal is R2 (weak but barely readable),” I transmitted. “However, I observe instability causing fluctuations between R1 (too faint to decipher) and R3 (weak yet receivable). Proceed with emergency protocols. What is your station’s designation?”

“This station remains unnamed,” crackled the reply. “Operator Japanese. Temporary installation. Your station’s designation? Your coordinates?”

“Our station name JIZZ.
Location: Tokyo City.
Experimental station.
Waseda University Student Y—inform me of your station’s location and full details of the danger.”

“Heaven’s grace.
I am overjoyed.
Long live Japan.
O beloved friend.
I intend to deliver astonishing intelligence to your station.
I have an exceedingly lengthy report, yet my transmission power remains critically weak.
Does your station believe my report?”

“I want to believe. I will also have questions later.
Anyway, speak quickly!”

“You must believe me.
I am in mortal peril.”

"I am Sentō Hayao of the electrical department at Kobe K Shipyard.
My current position lies at the midpoint between Mount T in northeastern N Prefecture and the K Mountain Range.
I commenced my ascent seven days prior—namely August 31st—by utilizing my vacation to attempt crossing an unexplored mountainous region, bringing along one porter and leaving behind N Prefecture’s A Town."

“Does your station acknowledge our transmission?”

“I have acknowledged.”
“Shall I retransmit the communication text received from your station?”

“That won’t be necessary.”
“Beloved friend.”

“We arrived at our present location on September fourth.”
“While my stated purpose was mountain exploration, I carried another objective.”
“Having pursued radio as my lifelong passion, I brought along my self-built apparatus—the ‘Superheterodyne’—on this ascent.”
“Specifically, to determine how effectively American broadcasts might be received at high-altitude summits.”

“Does your station acknowledge our transmission?”

“I have acknowledged.
Continue your report.”

“We had just passed through this location when we made an astonishing discovery.
Suddenly, a group stood blocking our path with guns aimed at us.
They had a bizarre appearance and were hiding amidst weeds as tall as their own bodies.
Their bodies had something resembling poisonous plants attached—…”
(Illegible)

“I’m suffering from atmospheric interference.
Cease your transmissions temporarily—”

Atmospheric conditions clear.

“Their bodies had something resembling poisonous plants attached—continue from there.”

“Their bodies had something resembling poisonous plants attached. Does your station acknowledge our transmission?”

“I have acknowledged.”
“Continue your report.”

“...Beneath that, they wore what appeared to be pale yellow military uniforms.”
“What astonished me was recognizing many Westerners among them.”
“Their nationality remained completely unknown at first, but after several days’ observation, they now appear to be ○ nationals.”
“We initially took the others for Japanese, but later ascertained they were not.”
“Does your station still acknowledge our transmissions?”

“Affirmative. What is that group doing?”

“Based on my observations to date, it appears they are clearly constructing military facilities.”

I was confined to one room of their hut while my guide was placed in a separate chamber. Our belongings were confiscated. My cell was part of a warehouse. There were many cement barrels.

The door at the entrance to my cell had a small window covered with wire mesh. Armed guards would come patrolling and peer at me through that window.

When I looked out from that small window, I saw that the sloping mountainside had been cut away.
In front of it stood a hut where people came and went.
I ascertained that it was a sundry goods warehouse.

“Until two days ago, I had occasionally heard the sound of pneumatic riveting and concrete mixers, but have not heard them since.”
“I occasionally heard a sound resembling an airplane propeller.”
“Judging from the daily food supplies transported from the sundry goods warehouse, I estimate the total members of this group to number approximately forty to fifty.”
“Your station must urgently report the aforementioned facts to the proper authorities and request that they commence an immediate investigation.”
“Judging from the surrounding circumstances, the suspicious facility appears to be nearing full completion.”

“My life remains secure for the present.”
“However, should this communication be discovered, I shall be executed immediately.”
“Concerning personal affairs, through the proper authorities’ benevolence, I beg that word be sent to my residence.”
“I will conduct transmissions with mortal resolve.”

“Our communication power source proves inadequate for sustained transmission.”
“We must regrettably abstain from detailed reporting.”

“Are there any questions from your station? Keep it brief.”

“I will report this immediately to the proper authorities. Rest assured. I have a question: From where did your station obtain its transceiver?”

“The superheterodyne receiver I carried with me was confiscated. I discovered they had temporarily thrown [him] into what appeared to be another storage room—the chamber adjacent to where my guide, who had been confined in the neighboring cell, was held. I made my guide sneak into the adjacent room through the dark ceiling at night and steal back that superheterodyne receiver. That same night, after much struggle, I attempted to remove coils, capacitors, dry batteries and other components from the set to assemble a shortwave transmitter. When I found that material shortages prevented me from creating a device capable of producing the desired wavelength, I was plunged into tears of despair. Nevertheless, having resolved to exhaust human efforts and await heaven’s will, I constructed an emergency transmitter and receiver within permissible limits.”

“Is our signal not attenuating?”

“It seems to have attenuated somewhat. I shall immediately report everything to the proper authorities.”
“Our next communication should occur approximately two hours later—namely at 4:00 AM.”
“What is your station’s status?”

“Acknowledged.”
“We must not economize on subsequent communications.”
“Due to power source depletion and in anticipation of incidents requiring urgent reports.”

“Farewell.”
“I pray for your endurance and continued efforts.”

I hurriedly stood up after sending the final symbol. I took down the uniform hanging on the wall and quickly changed into it. Then I dashed out of the house and ran into the deep midnight streets. I felt the chilling night air of summer strike my cheeks, flushed as though on fire.

I had already been astonished to hear that enemy nationals surveilling our nation were holed up in our country's remote mountains, yet when informed by someone called Sentō Hayao that they had conducted large-scale construction work—though from where they transported the materials remained unclear—and moreover that the work had already been completed, I became completely agitated.
Even someone as ignorant as myself about military facilities could vaguely infer what was being planned or executed next.
This is indeed a grave crisis for our Great Japanese Empire.
When I considered that at present there was not a single other person besides myself who could inform the general populace of this grave crisis, I found myself utterly unable to suppress the violent tremors that shook my body due to the weight of this crucial mission.

Now that I had thus rushed outside, the first and foremost question was where I should report this.
The most immediate method would have been to report it at the neighborhood police box, but I doubted the officers would readily believe me. Moreover, when considering the cumbersome process that would follow—the report traveling up through the police station, Metropolitan Police Department, Military Police, and ultimately reaching military authorities—I could not help but hesitate to approach the police box.

I resolved to hail a nearby taxi.
Then I had the car driven at full speed to the Military Police Headquarters in Nagafune-cho.
The car let out a tremendous roar and sped through the midnight government district lined with massive buildings.

Soon, the car I was riding in slowed from its maximum speed of thirty miles per hour and turned a corner.
With its horn echoing off the surrounding buildings, the car came to a stop several meters before the main gate of the Military Police Headquarters.
As I got out of the car, the sentry's booming voice assailed me.
When I looked up, a sentry stood there—his upper body illuminated by the brilliant gate lamp shining overhead—poised with his bayonet-fixed rifle aimed my way.

“Who goes there?!”

The sentry barked again.

"I,
'Please let me meet the duty officer immediately.'
'I cannot disclose this information without first presenting it for inspection.'
'I request that you hurry.'
'I have my business card here.'"

and I presented my card bearing my student title.
Perhaps taking a liking to my youth and student uniform, the sentry—after a brief back-and-forth—ordered a fellow soldier who had rushed out from the main gate upon hearing our voices to guide me to the duty officer's room.

Major Marumoto, the duty officer, entered the reception room where I had been kept waiting with an expression that suggested nothing was amiss.
I felt my own excitement and anxiety gradually calmed by his composed demeanor.
However, after that, the explanation of the critical incident did not proceed smoothly.
This occurred after nearly an hour of questioning—or rather interrogation—had persisted.
Having reached some manner of resolution, Major Marumoto withdrew to an adjoining room.
The garrison interior gradually began to stir as the night deepened.
The telephone bell was being rung three or four times down the corridor.
The crucible had reached a boiling point.
Suddenly, these words floated into my mind without any particular reason.

From far down the long corridor outside the room came the clattering sound of approaching sabers.

Alongside Major Marumoto appeared two officers and two soldiers who had entered the room together.
The major introduced them to me—Staff Officer Captain Kawanuma, Lieutenant Asagaya, and two soldiers from the communications section.
Major Marumoto declared he would immediately visit my residence to hear transmissions from Mr. Sentō Hayao of the mysterious shortwave station.
I felt a flash of anger that even after all my explanations, I still wasn't trusted.
Moreover, I was overcome by an urge to rebuke Major Marumoto and his party for their unconscionably casual attitude toward this imminent national crisis.
Yet I reconsidered—rather than argue, it would serve all purposes better to let them hear those unmistakable transmissions and entrust this grave matter directly to their hands.
Feeling that familiar tension and excitement return, I consented to their visit and became the first to dash from the room.

By the time I guided them home, it was just shortly before 4:00 AM—the time when I had promised to resume communications with that mysterious communicator, Sentō Hayao. I promptly checked the transceiver's functions and confirmed there were no abnormalities.

When the clock struck 4:00 AM, I immediately transmitted the calling signal. I transmitted this several times and stopped, then switched the antenna to the receiver and waited for a response. About ten minutes past four, the other party's response came through. I could feel that the strength of the signal had increased in volume even more than before. It appeared that the atmospheric conditions had improved even further. I briefly reported the progress and told Sentō Hayao that I had brought along members of the Military Police. He sent back signals conveying great delight. I asked him if anything had changed. He said that since he wanted to report immediately, he requested that I have the Military Police members come out. When I reported this to Major Marumoto, the major immediately ordered Lieutenant Asagaya of communications to handle the transmissions.

Lieutenant Asagaya immediately took my place at the communications station.
While receiving commands from Major Marumoto, the reception operations proceeded successively.
What they were hearing from Sentō Hayao, or what they were transmitting to Sentō Hayao—I did not have the slightest understanding of any of it.
This was because the three officers I had brought with me continued speaking in what I presumed to be French.
Whether fortunately or unfortunately, I couldn't make heads or tails of the French they were speaking.
I could observe that the facial muscles of the three officers gradually tightened, their complexions turned equally pale, and their lower lips began to tremble slightly.

When the forty-five to fifty minute communication session ended, Lieutenant Asagaya summoned me.
Sentō Hayao said there was something he wanted to tell me.
With my heart pounding like lovers forcibly separated for ages finally reuniting, I picked up the receiver.

The content of the signals he then briefly sent me surprised me even more.
He tersely stated his great pleasure at having reported his homeland's peril and his graver responsibility going forward to continue disclosing the enemy nationals' activities.
Then he seemed to hesitate momentarily in transmission before sending out his message with sudden clarity and resolve.

“I have already prepared myself for death.
“I’ve heard I’ll be killed here within three or four days.
“In fact, it was only earlier that one of the enemy nationals secretly confessed to me, which is how I came to know.

“You must find it strange that an enemy national secretly confessed to me.
“That enemy national is actually a young woman, and as you may have surmised, she is the wife of someone involved with this terrifying organization.
“She ended up coming to this place with her husband.
“She has the duty of bringing us three meals a day.
“When I first saw her, I thought she looked like a woman I’d seen somewhere before.”

"When I spoke with her, I understood.
"She was the sister of an assistant who had worked under me at the company, and when he fell ill with pleurisy and took to bed, she had come to inform me of his absence."

“Astute as you are, you can likely infer what emotional state the two of us fell into thereafter.”
“In truth, today marks the second day since she and I began entwining our souls.”
“She is already a married woman.”
“Our love might be an adulterous affair.”
“That is shameful.”
“But love’s power compelled us to leap beyond such notions.”
“She urges me to escape.”
“However, I have a crucial duty to report the enemy nationals’ actions, and I don’t believe escape would ever succeed.”
“Now I can only cling to her soul as much as possible and pray for a future bond.”

"You."

"I implore you to understand my passions."
"But I shall not neglect my duty."
"For I love this Land of the Rising Sun that has fostered our tormented love..."

Upon receiving this, my mind was seized by an indescribably strange sensation.

When the officers confirmed that our reception had ended, they left my room, leaving two soldiers behind.
Those two soldiers immediately took up their posts as sentries at the gate of my boarding house.

The following early morning, I was summoned by the Military Police and underwent tedious questioning throughout the day.
That night I was compelled to stay at their headquarters, and only the next day was I finally permitted to return home.
Anxious about Sentō Hayao, I rushed through my boarding house gate.
When I entered my room and found five of the landlady's cherished seat cushions piled high in a corner, I understood everything.
Upon inquiring with the landlady, she confirmed that while I had been detained by the Military Police the previous day, several officers had occupied my room; that they had kept vigil through the night without sleeping; and that they had only withdrawn at dawn.
I felt sick with disgust.
Yet consumed by growing concern for Sentō Hayao, I hurriedly sat before the shortwave transceiver—pressing the receiver to my ear, tapping the transmitter's key—but though the machine functioned flawlessly, no answering signals came through from Sentō Hayao's wireless telegraph no matter how long I waited.

Thus night fell.
Still, no signals came through.
And fruitlessly, that night dawned and faded away.

I waited with eyes bloodshot from sleeplessness glaring fiercely to see if those officers would come that day, but not a single one appeared.
Of course, not even sentry soldiers remained.
I finally grew furious and stormed off to the Military Police headquarters myself.
But to my astonishment, they absolutely refused to let me meet those officers.
Not only that, they ultimately treated me as someone driven by nonexistent delusions and even threatened to call police officers.
I had to return to my boarding house while tears streamed down my face.

From then on, this matter lodged in my mind, and as you know, I ended up in a state resembling a nervous breakdown.

However, my single-minded determination could not rest without getting to the bottom of the facts exposed through Sentō Hayao’s mysterious communications.
I patiently endured about a year after that.
And waiting impatiently for summer to arrive, I climbed to the midpoint location between T Mountain in northeastern N Prefecture—as reported by Sentō Hayao—and the K Mountain Range.
I spent several days thoroughly investigating that vicinity.
It was hidden by tall weeds, but the terrain was just as Sentō had described, and there were sheer cliffs that looked as if they had been sliced off.

But that was not all.
Were there not yawning holes here and there—each seemingly three ken in diameter (about 5.4 meters)—pockmarking the landscape?
Of course, the same verdant grass grew thickly within these craters, but such cavities could never be considered naturally formed.
It was as though one had thought that if countless bombs had been rained down upon this location from the skies, such gaping maws would have been torn into the earth.

In truth, I had already understood everything before coming to investigate these mountain depths. In my understanding, precisely when those officers had crowded into my vacant room was exactly when our army's flight crew conducted an aerial assault on this mountain recess where enemy nationals had been constructing secret defensive fortifications - and thus the detestable group of invaders were all slaughtered by bombs dropped from aircraft. And with no means to rescue our Sentō Hayao - treating crucial matters as trivial - he ultimately became a noble sacrifice, meeting the same gruesome end amidst the corpses of detestable enemy nationals. Truly a noble death. He had completely saved our homeland. Moreover, if his death occurred exactly as he had disclosed to me, it seems likely that his lover’s corpse would also lie beside him. He had likely closed his eyes for the last time while embracing his lovely lover, filled with profound contentment.

At that time, what I unearthed was this variable capacitor half-melted by bombs, which must have been attached to the shortwave transceiver that Sentō Hayao continued tapping on his telegraph key until moments before his death.
And so on.

＊ ＊ ＊ ＊

Deceased Friend Y—having spoken thus—handed me this broken variable capacitor.
His thin arms, ravaged by severe tuberculosis, seemed to lack even the strength to lift this variable capacitor at that moment.
That was only natural.
Three days after hearing this account, Y——’s condition deteriorated abruptly, and he finally became a resident of Hakugyokuro—the fabled jade pavilion where poets pass into eternity.

“Now, this concludes my long account—but can you determine whether this tale truly occurred exactly as he described? If you would be so kind, for the sake of my deceased friend Y—who had wished for someone to clearly determine from whom that truth originated—might I hear your esteemed opinion on this matter?”