The Ark Sakura by Kōbō Abe Read Free Book Online Page A

me think of heavy-duty gloves—and sprang to his feet. “I don’t brood over things the way you do. It’s not my style.”
    “Oh, crap—say you’ll come with me. I’ve got booze on the ship, if that’s what you want. If we take the bypass, we can get there in less than an hour, and I know a shortcut that only a jeep can manage.”
    “I can’t figure it out—why you’re counting so much on me.”
    “Blame it on the eupcaccia. That’s what brought us together.”
    “Look, as far as I’m concerned, the eupcaccia was a dud. I only sold one, so that proves it. I misread the people’s mind. What’s-his-name, the German psychologist, has a theory that this is the age of simulation games. Eventually reality gets confused with symbol. There’s a desire for enclosed spaces, like pillboxes—or with a little more aggression thrown in, tanks. If you can’t follow it, don’t worry. It was all in the paper. Anyway, the end result is a boom in electronic monsters, model guns, and computer war games. He could be on to something, don’t you think?”
    “The shill said the reason the eupcaccias don’t sell is because they don’t have horns.”
    “That could very well be. You sure you wouldn’t be better off teaming up with him instead of me?”
    “Personally, I don’t give a shit about horns. One of these days I’m going to design a ship’s flag, and I have in mind a logo based on the eupcaccia.”
    “In the end, what do you think you’ll do with your ship—subdivide or lease?”
    “How could I put a price tag on life?”
    The stairs came to an end in front of the basement door. The insect dealer put his hand on the knob and paused.
    “They station a guard here to keep employees from carrying off merchandise,” he explained. “We don’t have anything to hide, but still you don’t want to undergo a body search, do you?”
    He opened the door. Out poured that uniform concentration of noise that characterizes basement grocery sections of a large department store. A standing screen was placed before the door, but there was no sign of anyone around.
    “Here we go.” Holding up the suitcase like the figurehead on a ship’s prow, he plunged into the crowd, shouting, “One side, please, sick man coming through, one side, please. Everybody out of the way, there’s a sick man coming through… .”
    I obliged by walking hunched over and breathing with exaggerated difficulty. In the parking lot, a line of cars had begun to form.
    “Hey, this jeep is huge,” exclaimed the insect dealer.
    “It’s 2600 cc; the torque is terrific.”
    But he apparently felt no temptation to drive. He went around to the passenger’s side, pushed the seat forward, and heaved the contents of the suitcase on the floor in the back. “I’ll throw in the plastic containers for nothing.”
    He didn’t even ask how my knee was. All right, the hell with him. I’d had enough. The knee was good enough to drive with now. It was his loss. I’d given him his chance, but I couldn’t look out for him forever. If it came to that, I could drive off the shills single-handed. To prepare for such an eventuality, I had set up a number of traps behind staircases and at junctures in the tunnels. They were of all kinds: spring-powered mechanical ones, electronic ones, and devices using chemical sprays. I was confident they would stop any unwanted intruders.
    “Take care of yourself, all right?” he said. “When the bomb falls in Lebanon or wherever, I’ll drop by your shelter.”
    “It’s not a shelter; it’s a ship.” I turned the key and started the engine, taking a deep breath to relax. “A shelter is only temporary, but on a ship, life goes on. It’s a place to live, day after day.”
    “But when you put into port, everyone goes ashore, right? A ship is like any other vehicle—a means of going from point A to point B.”
    “There are people who live entirely on the water.”
    “So who wants to live like a goddamn turtle? I