The Factory Page 2

  My parents really were overjoyed. Here I’d thought they were perfectly content with my decision to devote myself to research, even if it meant I couldn’t make much money. Apparently, I was wrong: “A man’s mission in life is to make his own way in the world.” It didn’t seem like much of a mission to me, but my father issued that decree over the dinner table while my mother used her napkin to wipe away the tears of joy. The next day, the three of us went suit shopping. “It doesn’t matter if you’re over thirty, you’re just getting started. You don’t want to make the wrong impression by wearing something too nice.” The suits my father picked out were apparently just right. “You actually look pretty good in a suit,” he said. I thought we were going to get a single suit for the interview and leave it at that, but my father, full of pride now that his son was finally going to work, grabbed ten neckties and shirts, a couple of gray suits, one in navy, and another in black that I could wear to formal events — meanwhile, my mother tracked down ten pairs of socks and ten handkerchiefs. “Don’t touch the summerwear until you’re hired. This should do it for now. You’re lucky, you know. Most interviewees have to do this shopping in the worst heat, over the summer of their third year. Okay, let’s get you some shoes . . .” My father addressed the white-haired clerk and told him to hold onto my measurements. At the shoe shop, we bought two pairs while my father said, “Let’s admit it. You’re an introvert. You’re no good with people. I figured you’d never voluntarily work as part of a team, but this is a real stroke of luck. You better thank your advisor. The factory, too. Be grateful! Now listen, if anything goes wrong, I want you to come straight to me. Don’t complain to your coworkers, okay? If anything’s off, you talk to me. We’ll sort it out. Just don’t try to do anything on your own. Most of all, remember to be thankful.” Thankful for what?

  “Hello, everybody. We’re thrilled to have you out here, joining us on this beautiful day. This is our tenth year running the hike. We offer this event to give you guys a chance to learn a little about the factory and your fellow new hires. My name is Goto, from the PR department, and I’ll be your guide during the hike over the next two days. This is my first year in charge of the hike, but I’ve been with the factory for five years now, which means I’m not much older than the rest of you. So please don’t hesitate to reach out. We have three more members from PR joining us today, helping out. Can I ask you to introduce yourselves?” Two young men and a woman bowed in near-perfect unison, smiles on their faces. “Hello, I’m Sakurai. This is my third year with the factory. It’s nice to meet you.” “I’m Ichihashi. It’s my third year, too.” “I’m Izumi Aoyama, originally from Hokkaido. This is my second year. Nice to meet you.” Goto bowed back to them, then took over again. “There are fifty of us walking today, so we’re going to go ahead and take attendance before we get moving. The order’s a bit strange, based on when you applied for the hike and your department, so listen carefully. Be sure you raise your hand when you hear your name. Once you do, I want you to line up over here, in front of Aoyama-san. Okay, here we go. Furufue-san, Yoshio Furufue.” What? Why me? “He — here,” I said, my voice louder than I’d intended. Nonplussed, I cut through the crowd and stood in front of Aoyama, who smiled at me and said, “Nice to meet you.” Why was I first? I signed up right before the deadline. Besides, my department, if I even had one, should have been last on the list. The Environmental Improvement Division Office for Green-Roof Research didn’t even exist before I was hired. I was the entire department.

  I went to HQ for the interview, or what I thought was going to be an interview. At the front desk, they told me where to wait. Inside, there was a conference table with a few chairs around it, but I decided to stand. I didn’t want them to offer me the job. Really, I was better off without it, but I was still tense. Not long after I got there, someone came in and thanked me for coming in. “Did it take you long to get here? I’m Goto, from Public Relations. Nice to meet you,” he said, holding out a business card and bowing. I had no card to offer in return, obviously, so I just bowed and introduced myself. “Okay, let’s get right to it,” he said, “You’ll start on the first of April. In the three months between now and then, what we’d like from you is a list of necessary materials. Let us know as soon as you can . . .” What was he saying? “I’m terribly sorry, but I was under the impression I was here for an interview . . .” Goto’s face was completely blank. “This isn’t an interview. No one told me it was an interview. Besides, I’m not in charge of personnel. We’re meeting today to discuss your responsibilities from April onward, and to make sure we have everything you’ll need. I’m sure you’ll need microscopes and things like that, won’t you? We’re going to need a list. Makes, models, part numbers, anything you can give us.” Microscopes? “Will I be working with microscopes? I thought you needed an expert in bryology, to help you with green-roofing.” What was I saying? I was just a researcher. I wasn’t an expert in anything, not yet. “That’s right, green-roofing. We have a few different organizations taking care of our trees, flowers, roads, and streetlights. Green-roofing has been a real blind spot, though, and that’s why HQ finally decided to step in and deal with it on their own.” “They made a new department?” “Correct. And when the factory decided moss would be the best way to go, we put in a call to your university,” he said, blushing through a smile. I tried to piece together what I wanted to say. “When it comes to green-roofing, you’d be better off asking a specialist. These days, all you need to do is lay down a sheet and add water. The job would be finished in weeks. Well, considering how large the factory is, I suppose it could take a little longer. Anyway, my point is, there are businesses that specialize in that,” I said. “Yes, we understand. As far as that goes, the factory generally frowns upon outsourcing. Almost everything here is handled by us or our subsidiaries. Likewise, as the EI Division Office for Green-Roof Research continues to develop, it could become its own subsidiary. We hope you’ll work toward that goal.” Its own subsidiary? “By the way, can I ask where you got your suit? It’s very nice. Is it imported?” I had no idea. “Um, do you mind if I ask a question first? Is this going to be a team project? To be frank, going on without outside help could take a very, very long time. I’m afraid I don’t see the merit in it, either. Forgive me if I’m overstepping, but . . .” “No, yes, I understand. There’s no need to worry about time. Please proceed at your own pace, whatever you think is feasible. There won’t be anyone telling you to finish by a particular date or anything like that.” And that’s okay? Can they really afford to be so relaxed? Don’t they realize how wasteful this is? “While my research has to do with moss, my interest is primarily taxonomical. Green-roofing requires cultivation knowledge. Will other bryologists be joining the office?” “For the time being, it’ll just be you,” he said, still smiling, although I thought I detected some pity in his eyes. His cheeks were as red as ever. “It’s just me?” “That’s correct.” “One person? To get the whole thing going? And why is that?” Unbelievable. I really couldn’t understand what he was saying, it was just too absurd. What idiot dreamed this up? “Well, yes. You see, that’s why we aren’t imposing any hard deadlines. Proceed at whatever pace suits you. We’d like for you to begin by collecting samples, moss samples, whatever pops up around the factory, and classifying what you find. In due course, we ask that you work toward greening. At any rate, classification comes first. Do you now see what we have in mind? Oh, here. This is going to be your badge. You’ll need it whenever you enter or exit the factory. As long as you’re on-site, we ask that you keep this on you at all times. See how the strap is silver? That gives you access to virtually anywhere on the premises. Needless to say, we don’t want you wandering through the central buildings. When in doubt, be sure to set up an appointment beforehand. Anywhere outside is fine, wherever you need to go to find moss. We’ll laminate the badge soon, but first we’ll need to get your picture. It’ll be ready for you on your first day of work, the first of April. Any questions
?” “You mean you want me to green-roof the whole factory, on my own, without any real guidance or supervision? Would I go somewhere for training?” “Well, we offer a couple of basic training programs for new hires, one for etiquette and another for phone and email, but you won’t be needing those. For starters, your position doesn’t require much interaction with the outside world. And we have an orientation hike, equal parts training and networking for new hires.” Orientation hike? “I’m sorry, I meant training in terms of cultivating moss, or green-roofing in general.” “Training like that doesn’t really exist. Vocational training tends to be OJT: on the job training. You learn as you go. Individual training is left up to individual sections, if not individual employees, and we’ll sometimes have senior employees partner up with new hires, but there’s really nothing beyond that.” “In that case, how am I supposed to learn about the green-roofing process?” “Well, by utilizing your knowledge of moss. I know how this sounds, but we’ll figure it out as you go.” I just stared at Goto. I couldn’t understand a word he was saying. No colleagues, maybe — but no supervisor? Now Goto was smiling even more radiantly than before. “Any other questions?”

  “Okay, everyone. Please take a look at your maps. We’re going to go over today’s route. Right now, we’re here, at the top. This is the north zone. We have our headquarters here, as well as the planning and design departments, which together serve as the main hub for the entire factory. The north gate, right here, is the main entrance to the factory, and this is where we’ll start our hike today. We’ll show you a few buildings on the east side, swing by a couple of shops, then arrive here at the main employee cafeteria for lunch, at around noon. You’re in for a great meal, by the way, the new-hire special . . . Be sure to keep an eye on the time while we walk. If you show up after one o’clock, it’ll mess everything up for the temp staff in charge of cleaning up. Okay? By the way, there are all kinds of other food options around the factory. We have nearly a hundred cafeterias, and a decent number of restaurants, too. If you want, mark your map as we go. To be honest, some places are much better than others. If you want to know about the best places to eat, I refer you to our own Aoyama-san. Ask her anything. Ehehehehe. Anyway, yes, after we have lunch, we’ll keep heading south, toward the bottom of the map. We’ll finish our day at the bridge, here. The southern area stretches out over the ocean. As you can see, this river divides the factory in two: the southwest and the northeast. The bridge that crosses the river, the central bridge, looks much larger in person than it does on the map. When you see it, you’ll be blown away. Once we’re over the bridge, we’ll wrap up for the day. But we won’t abandon you at the bridge, so don’t worry. We’ll get on the bus headed for the south gate, then part ways there. Once you exit the south gate, there’s one bus bound for the station and another that heads into town. Everyone should be able to get home from there. If you’re headed for the dorms, you can just hop on the factory shuttle. Tomorrow morning, we’ll meet up at the south gate. Is that clear? Does anyone have any questions?” No one raised their hands. Looking down at my map, I was overwhelmed. The factory was a world of its own. Only four ways in and out. North, South, East, West. Shouldn’t there be more? Next to the roads on the map were colorful circles — blue, green, and orange — and according to the legend in the corner these indicated bus stops: there were several bus lines, running through the factory, all day long. Three giant buildings loomed over the rest: the factory headquarters, the museum, and the main warehouse. The rest of the map was filled with smaller buildings, all roughly the same size, too numerous to count. There were also a few areas marked “Residential,” and an enormous lot labeled “Product Test Site.” “Okay then. I’ll start by talking about where we are now, the north zone. Many people who come to the north zone, including our business partners and visitors, have never been to the factory before, and many of them will never come again. Most high-ranking employees have offices in the north zone. In that sense, this is a very important sector, where the factory presents itself to the world. Some of you are going to be working here in the north zone, and some of you won’t. Whatever the case, when you’re here, be sure you’re always dressed your best. It’s important that we do everything we can to preserve the factory’s image. Appearance matters.”

  In the middle of what I thought was going to be my interview with Goto, I got up to go to the restroom. There was a window right in front of the toilet. It was the sort of window you open by releasing the latch and pushing outward while turning the handle. I wanted a little fresh air. As I went to open it, a sign posted over the faded wallpaper caught my attention: KEEP WINDOW CLOSED: BIRDS IN AREA. “Okay, what am I supposed to do first?” The first thing they asked me to do was run a moss hunt. “A what?” “A moss hunt. You know — a hunt, for moss.”

  I realized it as soon as I opened my eyes. I thought I’d been reading, reading something indecipherable, but I was actually sleeping. As soon as I started feeling tired, I was asleep. Dreaming. I could see shadowy black shapes, even now. I looked around, but I was positive no one had noticed. The partitions made sure of that. As long as someone wasn’t looking into my area from directly behind me, there was no way anyone could have seen me. But even if they hadn’t, the whole thing set me on edge. I’d always thought sleeping on the job was a sign of laziness. If you’re feeling tired, you can always stand up, go to the bathroom, rinse your mouth out with water or wash your hands, really scrub them. If it’s particularly bad, you can wash your face or even use a couple of eyedrops. That had always done the trick before, not that I usually got tired at work. I almost never did, unless I had to stay up late the night before. That only happened when I was swamped. My whole life I’d thought that people who drifted off at work were just a bunch of slackers. But now I was that slacker. Only I wasn’t slacking. I’d gone to sleep early the night before. The thing was, the moment I started feeling even remotely tired, that was the end of it, I was gone, but obviously I didn’t notice until I woke up again. When did I fall asleep? How long was I out? I know I’d been reading. Then I was half asleep, then asleep. I must have really passed out. And I thought I had it covered. It was the partitions. Hidden from my coworkers, I let my guard down. I was sweating a little, clutching my printout. The red pen in my other hand had run wild while I slept, leaving jagged lines all over the page. “Crap,” I muttered, then looked around again. It didn’t seem like Kasumi had heard. The room was silent as ever. Irinoi and Glasses were working quietly. Or maybe they were sleeping, too. How would I even know? The makeshift walls between us had ensured a new level of privacy. I looked at the printout again and got back to work.

  I’d heard about the crows, the beavers, and the other animals around the factory, but hadn’t seen much of anything myself. Really, I was just happy to have a place to work, a place to go every day. Then again, that relief was not without some sadness. I’d switched jobs, and before I’d even fallen into the rhythm of the new job it was abundantly clear that there would be no need to worry, that it was going to be easy. The work was no big deal. Once that sank in, I realized: I’m a temp worker. Until recently, very recently, I’d been a systems engineer for a small company, when, out of nowhere, everything changed. “Fired?” “Sorry to say it, but yes.” If my girlfriend hadn’t been working as a coordinator for a temp agency, I’d be out of work right now. Unemployed at thirty, going on thirty-one. Instead I’m doing this work that literally anyone could do, as if nothing I’d ever done in my life even mattered. But how could I complain? Having work beats not having work. That goes without saying. Unemployment is hell. Temp work, though? Thanks to my girlfriend, I landed a place in the factory’s Document Division, proofreading printouts by hand. My life had always revolved around computers, and now I wasn’t even using one.

  “We already have one temp in the office, and they asked us for one more. It’ll be the perfect fit for you! I’m so glad they weren’t looking for a receptionist or something. Talk about great timing!”
I can only imagine how deflated I looked, but my girlfriend was being unreasonably cheerful, tossing her hair back repeatedly. She’d just cut it shorter than it’d been in years, and it seemed like she was really enjoying the way her hair felt against her cheeks and the back of her neck. Tossing her hair around like that made her look like an idiot. But this idiot turned out to be my sole lifeline. “Don’t worry. Just leave it to me.” In the morning, the first thing I’d do was grab a packet and remove the paper inside. I’d read it over, looking for errors, making notes as I went. This is the job I was given: “It’s best to go into this assuming everyone makes mistakes. In reality, that’s not how it works. Still, when you find something wrong, leave a note in the margins. Like this. There are marks you’re supposed to use, which are all in this handbook. Look up the right mark, then use that. Except, well, it’s an old system, invented back when we did everything by hand. Feel free to do whatever works for you. You graduated from college, so I’m sure your Japanese is in good shape.” My first day on the job, the middle-aged man in charge of the department showed me to my empty desk — no computer, nothing. Depressing. He handed me a gray sleeve protector, a Japanese dictionary, an English-Japanese dictionary, a character dictionary, and the proofreader’s handbook. After he’d shown me around most of the floor, the man said, “If there’s anything else you want to know, you can ask anyone here.” Then he ran off. By anyone here, he meant the three other proofreaders. All temps, but only one from my girlfriend’s agency. The other two came from somewhere else. The man left without bothering to introduce us, so I took matters into my own hands. “Hello,” I said. The women from the other agency just looked at me, but the one from my girlfriend’s agency, Kasumi (I could see KASUMI written in all caps on the ID hanging around her neck), said hello back, bowing slightly. “You’re the coordinator’s boyfriend, aren’t you? That’s what I heard,” she whispered. She smelled like peaches. Her lips were glistening and she had kind wrinkles under her eyes. Was she older than she looked? “Good for you. She’s a real catch,” she said, still whispering, but I could tell the other women were listening to every single word, grinning at each other. “Sorry? No, it’s not like that. Did she say that?” “Uh-huh.” Gossip already. Why did my girlfriend have to tell her about us? Doesn’t she know how that looks? They’re going to think I can’t get a job on my own. I know she’s a permanent employee for a well-known agency, but she’s really not that bright. To be honest, all she does is assign temps to posts, which is hardly a skilled profession.