Pathway to Japanese Literature

Morigen's Greenhouse

This area known as Oku-Izu—though geographically just a stone's throw from Tokyo—was filled with a crystal-clear azure sky reminiscent of southern climes and bathed in warm sunlight, creating a realm so distinct it might as well have been another world.

The fertile land swelling in rounded undulation somehow made even someone like me feel hopeful—I couldn’t shake this sensation.

I raised my eyes and inhaled the fresh air. In this atmosphere devoid of even a speck of dust, I felt an urge to breathe as deeply and vigorously as I pleased and wave my arms about.

Having come to Oku-Izu to recuperate after my illness, I found my temperature chart had finally settled into a sine curve pattern, and above all else, that coming to possess something called "hope" became my greatest harvest. Through layers of dust—those turbid veils—I had glimpsed the sun and loathed urban night skies with their sticky bean-jelly hue. Yet upon moving here, I grew half-dismayed at how cerulean southern skies could be, for in those soaring pure-white clouds I perceived visions steeped in wholesome vitality.

But as my health continued to improve in this manner, I found myself unexpectedly assailed by intense boredom. The surroundings fell utterly silent—so quiet you could hear each individual sunbeam seeping into the ground, as if suddenly gone deaf—and even the blowing wind felt gentle against my ears. I, who had become a burden to myself, devoted all allowable time to wandering—and moreover, I starved for someone to talk to.

That was when I came to know the eccentric Morigen—. This preface may have run somewhat long, but I feared that unless you first understood the depth of my boredom during that period, my subsequent acquaintance with Morigen—whom no one would engage with at the time—might strike you as rather unnatural. Morigen—a nickname, as his proper full name was actually Morita Gen'ichirou—but since all the villagers called him "Morigen, Morigen," and somehow that seemed to aptly capture his appearance, I too resolved to use this name I'd grown accustomed to.

Regarding the eccentric Morigen, the villagers' rumors varied—some claimed he was a hidden scholar, others insisted he was merely a madman-like oddity—but on one point they all agreed: he remained a "strange person" who utterly avoided interaction with the community.

Morigen's house stood in a low valley about four or five blocks from my rented home, built in a Western architectural style unusual for this area. On the way there, several greenhouses utilizing natural hot springs stood in a row, and inside those greenhouses one could see muskmelons hanging neatly from their heavily laden vines.

It’s said Morigen devised this system, but now imitations of these natural greenhouses had sprung up throughout the village and apparently become a major side business. On this point, Morigen ought to have been properly thanked, yet the villagers affixed him with the label of “eccentric” and made no effort to associate with him—

I first met Morigen during a walk at that greenhouse.

Morigen was wearing khaki work clothes and busily placing muskmelons on small straw pads, which he then hung from support poles. I too likely wouldn't have spoken to him had I not heard others label this man an "eccentric," but precisely because I'd been given that foreknowledge—and driven by the curiosity born of the aforementioned boredom—

“Oh, this is splendid work—it could rival imported ones.” I remarked. However, Morigen raised his pale eyes and gave me a brief glance— “Hmph—you think imported ones are better, amateur?”

Having spat out those words as if discarding something foul, he feigned ignorance and continued working. "Hmm... So imported ones are no good, huh?" "That's right—isn't it obvious? With muskmelons like these, timing's everything. Cut the vines to load them on ships and have them plod across the ocean like that? Their true flavor'll be past its prime by arrival." Morigen, who had finally turned toward me, seemed to notice my unfamiliar figure for the first time and stopped his hands.

“Ah, now that you mention it, that must be true—how many times a year do these melons get harvested, anyway?” “At other places, even if they do it step by step, three harvests a year’s about the best they can manage. But at my place, it’s easily double that…” “Double? You can harvest them six times a year?” “That’s right—they should yield even more.” “Hoh—so there’s actually such a method?” “If you’re like those other fools who think just heating the greenhouse is enough, three harvests a year’s your absolute limit.” “That’s just aping others. Even a child could use greenhouse water as steam... Heh heh heh. Method?” “There’s a method.”

Having said that, he looked at me again as if to verify something, “It’s the construction method—the greenhouse’s construction method. Unlike those others who build wherever there’s vacant space without a care—then there’s the antenna.” “Oh? So there are antennas on the greenhouses... Now that you mention it, they do seem to have them all attached.”

As I thought this conversation was taking a strange turn, I looked up at the several aerial wires—what he called antennas—on the greenhouse roof.

"All these greenhouses are built vertically east-west with antennas stretched over them—this utilizes Earth's magnetic force. Through precise measurement, they're aligned exactly perpendicular to the compass's north-south indication. Of course, there's simply no way to account for errors caused by polar drift. If we could clearly measure that, efficiency would undoubtedly improve—" "Are you suggesting magnetic force acts as fertilizer?"

“That’s the same kind of misunderstanding as thinking magnetic force only acts on iron—what passes for common knowledge.” “Do you know why we place the dead with their heads to the north?” “They say it comes from the legend of Buddha dying with his head facing north—but sometimes these so-called legends contain real truths.” “Aligning the body parallel to magnetic lines creates the most theoretically stable position.” “By positioning perpendicular to those lines and capturing their energy through antennas and underground wiring, my yield improvements become perfectly logical.” “Facts reign supreme as theory—they deserve universal application.” “Let anyone harness Earth’s squandered energy however they please—no harm in that.”

Though I couldn’t fully comprehend the specifics, I had come to see that this Morigen was no mere ‘eccentric’. As for this method of utilizing atmospheric energy, it surely wasn’t merely about installing antennas—there must have been some newer device involved as well. But if this method was truly as effective as he claimed, it would undoubtedly constitute a monumental discovery—one so significant that its widespread application could instantly resolve issues like food shortages.

Finding myself considerably intrigued by Morigen’s words, and with the interminable length of the day weighing on me regardless, I settled into that greenhouse as though I’d found the perfect companion. The glass-walled interior was fully bathed in sunlight, had hot spring heating pipes running throughout, and moreover was surrounded by fragrant southern plants with lush green leaves spread wide—all of which put me in such a profoundly detached frame of mind that I became completely engrossed in conversation with Morigen, whom I had only just met.

Contrary to rumors, Morigen was by no means averse to conversation—in fact, he seemed even more talkative than I was. This became abundantly clear when he eventually abandoned his work entirely, beckoning me over as he soiled his hands with dirt, offered a slightly sagging round chair, and leisurely began smoking.

“You’re from Tokyo? Ah yes, of course. Folks around here bolt whenever antenna talk comes up—ha ha ha!”

Morigen’s features, illuminated directly under the sunlight filtering through the glass, couldn’t be called those of a handsome youth, yet they weren’t particularly unpleasant either. Rather, his sunken cheeks and square, sturdy jaw—which at times gave him the appearance of a laborer—exhibited a kind of ruggedness—whether due to the lighting, the deep wrinkles etched into his forehead, or his thick eyebrows that perhaps accentuated this impression.

Electric Manor "Using Earth's magnetic force as fertilizer—that seems like a fascinating theme. Why haven't you published it?" "Moreover, you've actually applied it practically and achieved double the results—so——"

He wrinkled the sides of his nose and laughed, "I... haven't yet reached the point of publishing it or anything like that." "It might be considered a single piece of data, but it's still premature." "Of course, it's not just the antennas and underground wires—the supplementary devices attached to them remain incomplete, you see." "Ah, I see—so that's why you can't publish yet, is it..."

Having realized that further pursuit of this matter would be futile, I looked up, hoping to find some other topic.

Just then, at that very moment, a woman pushed open the greenhouse door and entered. The instant she appeared, it was as though flowers had burst into bloom within the greenhouse—so beautiful was this woman that I nearly hallucinated. Perhaps because of the tropical atmosphere surrounding us, the beautiful girl’s bold Western-style dress in vivid primary colors of red, yellow, and blue blended in perfectly—so perfectly that even I, who should have been thoroughly accustomed to seeing countless beauties coming and going in places like Ginza, found myself gasping aloud in astonishment. Her hair was cut short; that too was beautiful. Her eyes seemed moist; that too was beautiful.

On her part too—at the unexpected presence of me—having come quite close before stopping short as if gasping, she stood with lips slightly parted as though awaiting words, then turned her gaze toward Morigen. From between those crimson lips, white teeth reflected by the glass gleamed briefly. “Yeah, he’s a friend.” Morigen said this as if making an excuse, “Lumi...”

From that point onward, he never called her either his wife or sister.

“I’m Endo. Nice to meet you…” While rising to my feet and saying this, I began to feel intense interest.

After whispering two or three things into Morigen's ear, she left the greenhouse again—yet that searing impression of her form refused to fade from my retina for some time. "Truly beautiful... They say such beauty is rare in the countryside, but of course she can’t be local—even in the city, she’d be exceptional."

Morigen looked pleased while again wrinkling the sides of his nose,

“No, she’s just a country bumpkin. I simply make her dress like that as something of a hobby.”

“Well now, that’s astonishing! You perform such feats as well? And here I thought you were just another eccentric—”

I started to say "just another eccentric—" though hurriedly cutting myself off mid-sentence, but Morigen responded with a wry smile,

“Have you also been told about it? For someone like me who dislikes socializing, ‘eccentric’ makes for an excellent title—”

Morigen was indeed turning himself into the eccentric. Indeed, this was undoubtedly a clever method. “How about we go to the house for some tea—it’s hot here—” “Oh? So you’ll socialize with me alone?” “How ironic.” “No, no—that’s not what I meant. “I’m the one asking to socialize with you…”

I had become slightly flustered. It seemed my attempt to conceal the expectation that going to his house would mean encountering that beautiful girl named Lumi had instead led me to say something peculiar.

Morigen went ahead and passed through the greenhouse. As we approached the entrance, the door opened naturally, allowing us to enter with our hands still in our pockets. (Had Lumi opened the door for us?) Thinking this, I quickly turned around—but Lumi was nowhere to be seen, and moreover, the door was shut tight just as before.

We passed through the hallway and entered what seemed to be a study. Even then, we didn’t lay hands on the door. Not only that—the door lacked any handle whatsoever. “It’s automatic,” Morigen answered my questioning look.

Then, upon closer inspection, I realized that this house appeared to be thoroughly electrified in every conceivable aspect. When the temperature dropped below a certain degree, the heating system would activate; when it rose, the cooling system would immediately adjust—with just the press of a button, folding chairs and tables would emerge from the walls—it was exactly like the electric mansions one hears about. Probably, the only thing Morigen himself had to trouble his hands with was tying his necktie. Even when washing one’s face, simply presenting it to the washbasin would make constant-temperature water gush forth and rinse it away perfectly—.

“You seem exactly like a character from a science fiction novel.”

At some point, I had shifted from using casual phrases like "Is that so?" to more polite formulations like "Don't you think?" And then, sitting down on a chair that had emerged from the wall, I lifted the lid of the tobacco tray on the table. Like a spring mechanism, the first cigarette floated up before me—but when I reached out, I found it already properly lit. I was so taken aback that I nearly questioned whether I was actually supposed to put it in my mouth and smoke it. “Science fiction—”

Morigen muttered this as if taking offense, then continued—

“Mr. Endo—you called it that... Do you enjoy reading science fiction?” “And what do you think?” “I wouldn’t say I’m an avid reader, though of course I don’t dislike it either.” “That ‘don’t dislike’—meaning you appreciate the fictionality of so-called science fiction, isn’t that right? In other words, I believe science fiction can be considered synonymous with fictional novels. It could also be called a type of speculative fiction. It may sound harsh, but I think nearly everything up until now can almost be described as such. Works like A Trip to the Moon or The Conquest of Mars exemplify those engaging themes. However, what’s crucial is that such fantasies must be ‘scientifically plausible things that could one day be achieved.’ Take perpetual motion devices—since their impossibility has been proven, one can hardly call them proper science fiction... Oh! Wait—does this mean science fiction and fantasy novels are fundamentally different after all...”

Morigen tilted his head slightly, but immediately— “No, it’s fine—science fiction is simply novels that take plausible fantasies as their themes—stories that could exist within current scientific understanding.” “Right?” He took a breath and attempted to have me grasp his definition of science fiction. “I see—lunar travel makes an interesting concept. But once departing Earth, could one truly reach the Moon?” “That is—if we take the Earth-Moon distance as one unit—since Earth’s gravity measures six times the Moon’s—upon reaching five-sixths of that distance—with merely one-sixth remaining—wouldn’t their gravitational forces cancel out and leave you suspended?” “Moreover—should solar or stellar gravity act at that point—mightn’t your earnest lunar journey instead commence some preposterous cosmic voyage?”

“That’s not how it works. Since the inertia from Earth toward the Moon would likely be greater, you’d probably collide with the Moon instead—but compared to such trivial interests, I find the concept of ‘size’ far more profoundly intriguing. After all, the ‘size’ of things is entirely relative—nothing absolute about it. We’re merely reciting these measurements relative to the arbitrary scales humans have established—that I’m five shaku three sun tall, that tree over there is four meters high, this tobacco tray has a quarter-inch thickness—nothing more than that. For instance, Earth and Mars revolving around the Sun—isn’t that exactly the same as electrons orbiting an atom? You say it’s just a difference in size—but when it comes to defining what that size actually is, what can one even say? If you consider this perspective—the universe containing our solar system might itself be regarded as a single element within some gargantuan world. Conversely, within an atom under our ultramicroscopic gaze—among the electrons circling it—there might exist ‘humans’ living lives identical to ours, with trees, rivers, and something they call Earth. In short—the mischief of size being something non-absolute—”

I had been so overwhelmed by Morigen’s discourse—precisely because I’d offered those half-hearted responses—that it now seemed my own mind was beginning to unravel.

From midway through his explanation, I had indeed thought he seemed somewhat eccentric—but truth be told, that beautiful girl named Lumi whom I'd seen in the greenhouse simply wouldn't leave my mind. I kept anticipating whether she might appear here again, yet ultimately, I never did catch another glimpse of her. When Morigen’s explanation finally reached a pause, I seized the opportunity to make my hasty retreat.

Beautiful Girl Lumi

As for why I visited Morigen’s house again—as I had mentioned before—it was certainly due to extreme boredom, but it cannot be denied that it was also because, a couple of days later during a walk, when passing by Morigen’s house, I spotted Lumi through the window. At that moment—perhaps it was my imagination—she stood blankly in the middle of the room, raising hollow eyes devoid of focus to watch me. No—perhaps it wasn’t me she saw—but what did that matter?

I, knowing full well that Morigen was inside a greenhouse some distance away, deliberately avoided looking in that direction and walked straight toward the house—making sure she could hear—

“Hello? Hello—” I called out. And I pushed the door. At the same time, I realized with a start—oh!—that whereas last time when I’d come with Morigen, the door had opened automatically without any call or push, today it refused to budge no matter how forcefully I pressed against it. And yet, even though it should have been clearly audible, Lumi showed no sign of moving even a muscle. I was feeling somewhat disappointed and was just thinking of leaving when—

Before I knew it, Morigen had come up behind me and tapped me on the shoulder.

“Oh, sorry about the other day. Well, come on in—there we go—”

When told this, I turned around again to find the door gaping wide open. Though I felt somewhat belittled, I couldn’t very well leave now and followed after Morigen. “Welcome—”

That voice! The one who greeted me with a beautiful voice that seemed to ride on a song was Lumi, now strikingly lively compared to when I had seen her through the window.

“Come now—it’s your favorite guest—go bring some tea—”

Truth be told, I didn’t want Lumi to go fetch tea at all—to the point where I wished she wouldn’t.

But Lumi obediently nodded and left the room. And yet, she did not return for quite some time. Morigen wrinkled his nostrils in that habitual way of his and smirked,

“Lumi seems to be terribly fond of you—”

“…………” I was at a loss for a reply and merely returned a meaningless smirk. “Actually, it seems Lumi does like you—but unfortunately, she can’t survive even a single day—no, not even an hour—without me.” “And besides, I don’t want to let her go either—I mean, please don’t misunderstand—”

I could not comprehend Morigen’s words. There was something about his evasive manner of speaking—as if he had something stuck between his back teeth—that I simply couldn’t grasp.

Just at that moment, Lumi finally arrived with the tea, and I felt the slightly awkward, strained atmosphere lift with relief. Lumi brought two cups of black tea on a silver tray. “Well, you sit there too—” At the chair Morigen had indicated with a gesture of his mouth, Lumi wordlessly took her seat. And then, as if remembering, she turned her eyes toward me—

Ah, how could I possibly describe those eyes? Truly, I thought these must be what they mean by obsidian eyes. Moreover, those round eyes that seemed to have forgotten to blink remained fixed on me, pouring forth an intense gaze that churned up something deep within my chest.

On the contrary, I became aware of my face flushing crimson and found myself fidgeting like a nervous boy.

“It’s been some time since you last visited.”

She blinked her large eyes, said in a voice that flowed like water, then let one cheek soften into a smile.

“No, that’s—I thought I was intruding.”

“Oh, that’s not the case at all. Please do come every day if you can—after all, I’m bored regardless.” “Oh, I must say I’m the one bored out of my mind—I’ll be sure to drop by from time to time.”

It seemed my voice had emerged like a shout—strained and involuntary—as Morigen, “Ha ha ha ha”

he laughed unrestrainedly and showed his wrinkled nostrils,

“Please do come—I’m an ‘eccentric’ with no one to talk to—” “I’m truly honored to have made such a beautiful friend.”

Though it was a slightly pretentious way of speaking, for me—who had apparently become utterly elated—it rather felt like an honest truth. I had settled down completely in our trio seating arrangement, as Lumi was by my side today.

Amidst this, what I had gradually come to notice and find peculiar was none other than Lumi herself.

For she was indeed a beautiful girl, and from her manner of speaking, it was clear she had received an advanced education—yet at times, when she suddenly fell silent, her profile would reveal an icy, rigid expression, cold and still as a sculpture. And there were often moments when she forgot to blink—

At such times, I would steal a brief glance at Morigen. Then Morigen too—with a tired, slackened face—was staring vacantly at the ceiling. (Had I gotten carried away and overstayed my welcome?)

“Oh, I must apologize for intruding so much… I’ll be sure to visit again—”

“Huh—”

Startled by the abruptness, Morigen looked up wide-eyed, then mumbled and swallowed back the words that had nearly escaped his lips. "I see. Then please do come." With that, he glanced meaningfully at Lumi and escorted me to the entrance's automatic sliding door.

“Ah, right—when I next visit, I’d like you to show me your laboratory once.” “Well, there’s nothing particularly impressive about the equipment here, but feel free to take a look sometime.” For some reason, Morigen saw me out while offering despondent responses.

Brainwave Control

It was the next day.

As I idly thought about perhaps visiting Morigen again in the afternoon, leaning against the second-floor railing while gazing at Oku-Izu’s crystal-clear blue sky, something vivid suddenly caught the edge of my vision. When I focused my eyes, there was Lumi—walking toward my house with an ethereal gait. It might seem strange to describe modern girl Lumi’s movement as "ethereal," yet in truth her figure approached as if borne on the wind—an oddly languid motion that paradoxically conveyed fierce resolve to reach this place with desperate urgency.

I immediately ran down from the second floor. Then, thrusting my feet into garden clogs, I went halfway down the road to meet Lumi. "Oh—"

As she said this, her cheeks twitched violently, and she leaned against my chest as if about to collapse. I, though it was a country road (or perhaps precisely because it was a sparsely traveled country road), found myself flustered by Lumi's boldness that had taken me by surprise, “Well, here—come on, come on.”

and dragged her into the house. At that moment, while supporting the leaning Lumi with my entire body and feeling slightly puzzled by the strange tactile sensation, I nonetheless brought her home and seated her on a chair, “You actually came.” Finally, I said with relief. “...”

Her face, which she had silently raised, bore the tearful countenance of someone experiencing extreme mental turmoil. And yet, not a single tear had fallen. A tearless crying face looked up directly—it was an utterly desolate sight. “What’s wrong? Shall I bring you some water?” Completely unable to grasp the situation, I—(had she perhaps had a quarrel with Morigen?)—stood dumbfounded.

Lumi shook her head violently and, “I love you, I love you, I love you…”

With that, she let out a strange vowel-less scream that was neither "ki" nor "ku", rose from the chair, and reached out her hand.

I instinctively recoiled a few steps, “Wh-what’s wrong, Miss Lumi?” Just as I was about to say “Get a hold of yourself—” Morigen burst in unannounced and, without so much as a glance in my direction, “Lumi, you idiot!” Having said that, he seemed to have rushed over desperately and was still panting as he glared.

With that, Lumi stiffened and collapsed onto the floor with a clatter. The sound of her collapse was a clatter, precisely like that of a chair falling over.

Lumi didn’t move a muscle after that. I fearfully looked up at Morigen’s bloodshot eyes. “What’s happened—what on earth—”

“...” Morigen, who finally turned toward me,

“Oh—I must apologize. “Terribly sorry for troubling you… What an absurd scene I’ve made…”

“I don’t mind that in the slightest, but she seemed to collapse with a terrible noise—”

“Yes, exactly—the electricity was cut off.” “What? The electricity went out?”

“Oh, hadn’t you realized yet? Lumi—this Lumi is the electric human I spent half my life painstakingly crafting—” “Electric human!” “Yes, this electric human means more to me than life itself.” Never had I been more shocked than at that moment. Until mere moments ago—the beautiful girl who’d shown me affection, no, the one I’d felt not just fondness for but actual love—to discover she was an electric human...! Utterly dumbfounded, I stared anew at Lumi’s form sprawled across the floor.

However, even after hearing that, I still couldn't accept that Lumi was an artificial human. What an exquisite creation! Even among real humans, there must be quite a few inferior specimens compared to Lumi. "Is this beautiful skin... these eyes... are they artificial?"

“......” Morigen nodded deeply as if affirming “Exactly,” then began speaking with sudden resolve. Once he started talking, his words gradually intensified heat, and unimaginably strange phenomena began unfolding through his characteristically scientific tone—clear and definitive.

“That’s correct. This skin is an extremely precise rubber skin. If this alone were made publicly known, it could very well be called a revolutionary breakthrough in plastic surgery.” “Bruises and burn scars would be perfectly repaired, and others with facial scars or terribly poor complexions could also achieve a strikingly vibrant and beautiful appearance by applying this rubber skin.” “In other words, cosmetic methods will undergo a great revolution as well.” “By applying this rubber skin—a kind of artificial flesh surface—one can freely control complexion and even the way hair grows.” “Moreover, this does not interfere at all with the physiological functions performed by pores.”

“To put it simply, outdated medical practices like grafting thigh skin to repair facial wounds will undoubtedly be the first to become obsolete.” “Even her eyes—through phototubes embedded deep within—physiologically achieve iris dilation.” “As for the other prosthetic hands and legs covered with rubber skin—all have wires arranged here exactly like human nerves, and through the electric current acting on them, they perform flawless movements as you’re aware. Moreover, thanks to the gyroscope, she stands with greater stability than we do...”

Now that you mention it, I too had noticed something. The reason was that when Lumi had leaned against my chest earlier, her body was soft like a girl’s yet not warm, and I had indeed sensed a pulsation different from a heartbeat. That strange tactile sensation I had felt then was due to this. “...Moreover, what I want to boast about first regarding this electric human Lumi is the method of transmitting commands from me to Lumi. “This constitutes what might be called her very life force. Unlike those old toy-like artificial humans that would remain standing in one spot—where pressing this switch raises their right hand and that switch makes them vocalize—this employs an innovative method of ‘brainwave control’ rather than wired control. It’s a step beyond wireless control—or rather, one might call it mystical.”

Morigen proudly raised his eyes.

“Brainwave control—?” I involuntarily met Morigen’s eyes. “That’s right—brainwave control. You’ve likely never heard such a term before—no wonder, as it’s my own creation.” “To put it simply, when a person’s brain is active, it generates a form of electricity.” “Though extremely minute, not only can we confirm its existence using sensitive electrodes, but we can also amplify and record it with an oscillograph—” “However, through that oscillograph, I discovered that the electromagnetic waves emitted by the brain—what we call brainwaves—change just like sound waves do.”

“To put it simply, just as sound waves clearly differ between ‘yes’ and ‘no’—if they didn’t differ, you couldn’t distinguish them—in exactly the same way, when you think ‘yes’ versus ‘no,’ the brainwaves generated by those thoughts differ.” “She receives those emitted brainwaves through a receiver in her head—like wireless control—amplifies them, and operates each mechanism. This is brainwave control.”

Morigen paused briefly to check whether I had understood his explanation, “Therefore, to control her—Lumi—if I think ‘Stand’ in my head, she stands; if I think ‘Raise your right hand,’ she raises her right hand.” “I don’t need to voice commands aloud—I simply have to think them in my head.”

“Hmm—”

I inadvertently let out a cry of admiration.

What an exquisite electric human!

To control her without inquiry or command—through what you might call "heart-to-heart communication"—!

This was truly beyond human! It was indeed such.

...With new eyes, I looked down at Lumi who lay collapsed at my feet since earlier.

Suicide Note “π”

“However...”

Morigen was contorting his mouth in anguish. "However—perhaps because this Lumi was too exquisitely crafted—it seems you've developed more than ordinary affection for her—"

“......”

Though I felt ashamed, I couldn’t deny it. Seeing me nod faintly, Morigen continued to speak.

“And what’s even more unfortunate is that it seems Lumi too has come to feel affection for you.”

“Wha—”

I involuntarily looked up at Morigen. "But... I admit I felt something like love toward Miss Lumi—no, that I saw her as a beautiful woman—since I didn’t know she was an electric human. But even so, how could she—a machine that should be pitiful—possibly fall in love with me? I don’t know how your genius technology constructed her, but can a machine—an artificial human—possess the 'will' to love?"

Though half in doubt, as a man who had fallen in love with an artificial human and been loved in return, I found myself intensely agitated in heart and mind. (Could Morigen be joking?) However, he still wore a pained expression, “No, it’s the truth. First of all, despite it not being my will, Lumi came to your house alone.” “Coming this far was clearly Lumi’s personal will.” Now that he mentioned it, I too had something come to mind. The reason lay in Lumi’s words when she had come here—that “I love you, I love you, I love you...” While undeniably strange in resonance, that peculiar quality exactly resembled the unnatural repetition of a phonograph needle circling the same groove multiple times.—Most likely, no other expressions of love besides this one had been recorded within her. Her desperate enunciation must have been frantically looping over that single recording.— A chill had come over me.

I was personally enacting the strangest love affair with an artificial human—an unprecedented fact never before heard of in this world. Even so, no matter how I thought about it, what I couldn’t comprehend was the emotions—the will—that Lumi possessed. I didn’t know how sophisticated an electric human she was, but the fact that she already possessed her own will seemed beyond even Morigen’s science to explain.

(How would Morigen explain this—) I remained silent, staring at her lying at my feet. He, too, was silent. Like a man who had already expelled every necessary word, he simply stared vacantly down at Lumi—her limbs splayed limply across the floor. In his profile, near the temples, I saw unexpected white strands, realized Morigen had already reached such an age, and felt an impulse to gently embrace those slumped shoulders.

×

Morigen eventually left, carrying Lumi.

I deliberately made no move to see them off, instead gazing from the second-floor railing at the scientist Morigen’s retreating figure—watching him half-dragging Lumi, the creation into which he had poured half his life’s soul—with a tearful gaze. To Morigen, Lumi—more precious than any biological child—had defied scientific common sense and abandoned him for my sake, a mere stranger by the roadside. I could fully imagine his anguish. All the more for that reason, even after Morigen’s heavy footsteps had staggered out of my sight, my despondent mood could not be dispelled for a long time.

That night, as I tried to listen to the radio—my sole comfort since coming here—and turned the dial, I was suddenly struck by a horrifying realization. The matter concerned Lumi’s will—. That wasn't Lumi’s will—it was mine.

Morigen had spoken of brainwave control. While tinkering with the radio, I had connected this concept to electromagnetic waves. In other words—could Morigen’s brainwaves and mine be operating on identical wavelengths? I recalled how radios could distinguish between countless stations precisely because each maintained distinct wavelengths. If two transmitters shared the same frequency, the tuner would inevitably capture both signals.

That’s right—Morigen’s brainwaves and mine must have coincided by chance. The thought I had—wondering if Lumi might come visit—must have been received by her, prompting her to move accordingly; and as my secret affection for her was transmitted, Lumi must have uttered those very words. That’s right—there was simply no other explanation. Even so, what a catastrophic coincidence this proved to be. I had no choice but to resign myself to never visiting Morigen again or even allowing myself to think of Lumi.

I deliberately sent this opinion to Morigen in a letter. Secretly, while awaiting his denial in response—

However, the postcard that immediately arrived from Morigen had nothing but a single large "π" written on its back. π—what on earth could it mean? Before this solitary enigmatic character, I tried to summon to mind, one by one, anything related to this symbol.

However, when all was said and done, it still came back to pi. As for the character π, apart from when it represents pi, I had absolutely no recollection of ever using it. Even so, what could pi possibly signify? What kind of message was this irrational number π—3.14…—meant to convey? I thought he might have imbued some meaning into the word "irrational"—but in the end, that didn’t seem to be the case.

Having no other choice, I spent several days trying to have books concerning pi sent from Tokyo. However, I still couldn’t discover any hidden meaning.

As I gazed at the procession of numbers—3.1 4 1 5 9 2 6 5 3 5 8 9 7 9 3 2 3 8 4 6……—I crossed my arms.

And as I continued picking out and reading through those numbers, the sound murmured in my mouth seemed to form a peculiar song. Startled, I carefully read through them again.

Then, it became—

became "mihitotsu yohitotsu iku ni muimi iwaku naku mifumi ya yomu..." and when I forcibly tried applying kanji characters to them, "Alone in body, alone in the world—living is meaningless; reading scriptures without cause..."

So that’s what it became— That—doesn’t it hold some discernible 'meaning'—

×

Feeling anxiety welling up like a cloud, I hurried to Morigen’s house—a place I had resolved never to visit again.

Morigen was nowhere to be seen in the greenhouse either. The automatic sliding door was tightly closed, but without hesitation, I broke the windowpane and climbed inside. --My ominous prediction had come true.

In that room lay Lumi, smashed to pieces by a single blow.

There was no red blood. However, her internal organs were scattered like the contents of an overturned toy box. Poor Morigen!

However, Morigen was nowhere to be seen there.

For a long time I wandered about searching for his tragic figure—he who had been forced to shatter the hopes and crystallized achievements of half his life with a single blow. With the unexpected emergence of a man who shared his brainwaves—even if only briefly—had Morigen, now deprived of Lumi, already put into practice "living is meaningless"—

Exhausted from searching, I unconsciously lit a cigarette and dragged my heavy legs into the final greenhouse—there unnamed tropical flowers bloomed riotously, and amidst the rich, sweet fragrance of muskmelons, I suddenly came upon Morigen’s corpse dangling limply from a ceiling support beam, neck noosed.

At the same moment, I shuddered and fled headlong from that greenhouse.

×

That night, as I staggered home like one possessed by nightmares, a fire—having broken out from Morigen’s greenhouse through some unknown cause—reduced the entire structure to flames in an instant. Could it have been from the cigarette ember I dropped in my panic—? The thought still assails me with self-reproach even now.