The Factory Read online

  “There’s just one thing you need to know before we get started, okay?” The children all looked up at me as if on cue. “From here on out, we’re going to be doing a lot of walking, looking for moss in all kinds of places. We’re going to a place with lots of trees, really close to the forest.” There actually aren’t that many trees there. If you look at the spot on a map, it’s not even a thousand square yards wide. But once you’re inside it’s unsettlingly dark. “When we get there, we’re going to be doing some exploring. Now, when you’re hunting on your own, absolutely no going into the forest. Got it? It’s really dark in there, even in the middle of the day. It’s dangerous and you could get lost. The same goes for parents, okay?” They really could get lost — more than that, though, there’s a creep called the Forest Pantser who runs around the area, but I’d been instructed by Aoyama to refrain from bringing him up. “You’d just ruin the mood. Everyone already knows about the guy anyway. Really, you don’t need to say anything. Just make sure nothing happens. If you’d like, we can have some of the young guys from PR stand watch around the forest. We can ask security for help, too.” “Good thinking, let’s call security.” So I thought it’d be reasonably safe, but I still didn’t feel great about it. From what I’d heard, the Forest Pantser was a middle-aged man, maybe a little on the elderly side, who ran around the forest trying to pull the pants off men and women of all ages. “Why do people call him that, though?” “That’s what he calls himself, apparently.” Whenever his would-be victims fought back or resisted, he retreated into the trees. Of course, everyone puts up some kind of fight, so he hadn’t actually removed anyone’s pants. “It’s not like he exclusively targets young women or anything. He’ll go after anyone. All we know is wearing a suit seems to be the best deterrent.” Aoyama tugged at the collar of her ash-gray suit, twisting the gold chain around her neck. There was a black stone at the tip of her necklace, almost too small to see. “I mean, it’s not like he’s a real sex offender.” I understand that he’s equally prone to prey on old men as young women, and I get that suits apparently repel him, but that hardly means he’s not a pervert. Anyone running around calling himself a Forest Pantser has to be screwed up on some level. “Shouldn’t someone report this guy to the cops?” “Well, he hasn’t done any real harm to anyone, and every department across the factory has already issued warnings, so at this stage there’s no real reason to get law enforcement involved.” I think I get why the factory is reluctant. Considering how tight security is around here, it’s hard to imagine the culprit sneaking in from outside. It’s extremely likely that the guy’s on payroll. Either way, if word got out, it wouldn’t look good — but there was no guarantee that he wouldn’t lay his hands on children. We had to be vigilant. Aoyama handed me a single copy of this year’s flyer. “Did you need more? Were you going to pass them out?” “No, one’s fine.” Who was I going to give them to? “Okay, I’ll reach out to security. I’ll see you the morning of the hunt.” Aoyama bowed once and left the lab. She got into the company car in the parking lot, bowed once more, then drove off. I collected her cup from the coffee table and washed it out. I took another look at her flyer. It didn’t feel right to have Aoyama do this kind of work, especially now that she’d been promoted to manager. But at some point, she became my point of contact and these things always fell on her. I guess I wasn’t entirely unhappy about it, though. She was the only one I could really talk to. And what’s not to like about working with a smart and beautiful woman?

  Fifteen groups of parents and children had signed up for this year’s hunt. In every group, one or both of the parents worked for the factory. Two pairs had participated the year before. After the event, a few of the children, especially the older ones, wrote reports on their experiences; a handful had even won prizes and honorable mentions in the prefecture-run Junior Scientist Contest. A number of the parents wanted to hold the hunt during the summer so that their children could write about it for their summer essays, but fall is the best season for moss. The Junior Scientist Contest had a November deadline anyway. So, with the sole exception of the first hunt, which we did in spring, the event had always taken place during the fall. When I got to the west gate, five groups had already gathered there. Most of them were pairs, one parent to each child, but one of the parents came with two children — a brother and sister. There was still a little time before the hunt began, but I asked the children who were already there to get started by looking at the roots of a plane tree. “See this here? This is moss. Believe it or not, this stuff can grow anywhere!” I pinched it so they could see. Four of the kids were squatting around me in ratty-looking clothes, looking at the moss and then looking up at me. The other two, the brother and another boy, were talking about trading cards, their spit flying everywhere, saying that they’d left their rarest cards at home, but they definitely had them. The kids had never met before, but they looked like they could’ve been twins. I couldn’t even tell their reedy voices apart. They clearly shared a passion. They squirmed with glee as each boy tried to convince the other that his cards were more valuable. The list of items to trade was extensive, and the rivalry felt very real. To keep them from coming to blows, their mothers had to step in and attempt to settle matters amicably. The sister, who looked like she was about to enter middle school, ignored her little brother completely. She joined the other kids who were playing with a patch of silvery-green moss. I couldn’t tell if they were having fun, trying to look like they were, or if they were just bored out of their minds. No matter how many years I did this, the kids never made any more sense; they were utterly incomprehensible. “It kinda feels like a kitty,” the girl said as she stroked the moss. Cats and moss are nothing alike. If you want to pet a cat, go pet a cat. I put on a smile and said, “This stuff can grow anywhere. A sidewalk, the rim of a volcano, even really cold places like the South Pole. That’s how tough it is.” “Moss can grow on ice?” the sister asked. I was grateful for the question. “Actually, there’s a lot of land in the South Pole, under the ice. Sometimes it gets so cold the moss will freeze, but moss is so strong that it can survive that. As long as the temperature reaches a certain point, and it gets some moisture, it will turn green again. I’ll explain more once the rest of the group is here.” Once it was time, I counted to make sure everyone had arrived. The boys who’d been talking about trading cards had obeyed their mothers and put their feud on hold. There were sixteen kids and seventeen chaperones. Only two children had both of their parents with them, but the rest had either their mother or father, except for this one kid who showed up with his grandfather instead. The boy and girl who had also participated last year brought their prizewinning reports and the samples they’d collected over the past year. “My name is Yoshio Furufue, and I’ll be showing you around the factory today. It’s nice to meet you all.” There was moss everywhere, all around the factory. I handed every kid a miniature magnifying glass along with a folded sheet of kraft paper for keeping samples, hoping the day would turn out okay.

  “Furufue-san, Furufue-san. Sensei.” My live-in laboratory had an intercom, but he didn’t bother using it. He must have had his mouth up to the window next to the front door, which I’d left cracked open. The voice I heard was too loud to be coming from outside. I was sitting at my computer, drafting a report on the moss hunt for Aoyama, when the voice interrupted, breaking my concentration. I looked at the window. I’d seen that face before. It was the old man who’d come to the hunt with his grandson, the kid who found the body of a dead coypu. How did he know where to find me? I didn’t know if I should open the door, but our eyes had already met. I couldn’t remember his name, but I could picture his grandson’s face perfectly. The child had eyes like sardines and a giant forehead. He was a real somber kid. The old man was definitely the livelier one. Still, the boy did pretty well during the hunt. After a moment, I stood up to open the door. I didn’t feel quite right about ignoring the old man after he’d spent the whole day moss hunting with his gran
dson. When I went to let the man in, the boy was standing right there next to him. I guess he was too short to see through the window. The kid was wearing a dark green shirt with red and yellow stripes. Was this supposed to be his autumn shirt? By the way, shouldn’t he be in school? The old man was wearing a factory uniform, one I’d never seen before, with the logo on the chest. “Can I help you?” I asked. He lowered his head and smiled. “Sorry to drop in on you like this. We wanted to thank you for organizing the moss hunt. It was truly eye-opening. Ever since, my grandson’s been collecting samples at school.” This made the boy blush, but his gaze didn’t falter. “I’m glad to hear it. Your grandson has a keen eye. I hope he keeps hunting.” “Thank you, that’s very kind of you,” the old man said, reaching into his chest pocket, pulling out a small square towel, and wiping his neck, even though he wasn’t sweating. I bet his sweat glands had shriveled up and died ages ago. “So what brings you here today?” I asked. He craned his neck to see inside. “I hate to bother you, but would you mind if we came in for a minute?” Out of nowhere, a thick binder appeared in the boy’s hands. He had a look on his little face like he was itching to get rid of it. “Actually, I’m working right now. Can I ask what it’s about?” The old man smiled and grabbed the binder from his grandson. “I apologize for just showing up like this. I asked someone for your address. I used to live around here, too, a long time ago. We took the bus over and walked the rest of the way. I looked for you in the directory, but couldn’t find your number or email address.” “I’m in there, but my section is password-protected. Not many people need to speak with me, and this is my private residence. So, what exactly can I do for you?” Is he going to ask me to read his grandson’s essay? I wasn’t thrilled about the idea of reading a binder full of this kid’s scribblings, but honestly I wasn’t too upset about it, either. Green-roofing — my work with moss — was slow going. Reading some kid’s report was the least I could do. It’s not like there was much else I could do for the factory. “Do you think you could let us in first? I’d rather not tell you out here.” Just then, a small truck carrying dirty laundry pulled up next door, and the gate to the cleaning facility swung open. It was probably just my imagination, but I thought I caught a whiff of the sweet smell of detergent. A middle-aged woman in an apron called out to the driver. They burst out laughing as they loaded the containers of clothing onto a dolly and steered it inside. “Okay, come on in. The place is a mess, though.” “Don’t worry about that, sensei. We appreciate it.”

  “Look here. This is called gray moss. You see that tiny blip at the tip?” “That’s a bud,” the sister shot back, beaming with confidence. But flowers don’t grow on moss — it was most certainly not a bud. “Good guess, but remember what I said? These fellas are flowerless plants. They don’t have seeds, either.” I’d had Aoyama diagram the life cycle of moss on the computer, enlarge it, and print it onto a giant board of coroplast. I’d just explained to them how mosses reproduce, but I guess that sort of thing can be hard for little kids to grasp. Hell, I bet most high school biology students struggle with the subtleties of the sporophyte stage. The younger ones nod along like they’re following, but there’s no way that they’ve comprehended even half of it. They understand what I’m saying like they understand that they can drop a holiday card in the mail and it’ll show up at grandma’s house a couple of days later. It’s not like anyone’s going to quiz them on what they’ve learned, so why should it matter anyway? “This is a capsule. It’s full of spores. The moss sends those spores flying into the air and if they land in the right kind of place they’ll grow.” “Just like when you blow on a dandelion, sweetheart,” one of the mothers added for her daughter’s benefit. I thought about responding, but decided against it. What a day. Luckily, the Forest Pantser didn’t show up, but during a break the old man’s grandson wandered right up to the edge of the forest, where he found some monk’s moss growing among the excrement and animal carcasses. There, on the belly of a dead coypu, he found a particularly thick clump of moss. The animal might have been six feet long, but coypus shouldn’t be anywhere near that size. Maybe I was imagining things. “I hear they’re breeding in the sewers under the factory. Are you safe there?” one of my old university colleagues asked in an email. “It’s fine. They sleep all day, and even if you get close to one, they couldn’t care less about human beings,” I replied. “I’m more worried about the black birds here. They look like shags or cormorants, but I still haven’t identified them. There are tons of them, living by the river. Every time I look, there’s more of them, too, as if the population’s doubling each year. And they’re not the least bit afraid of people. You can walk right up to them and they won’t fly away.” Back before I’d given up on the idea of green-roofing, I was walking all over the factory, looking for moss samples that might prove useful, and headed down to the riverbank to see if I could find some moss. By the river, I saw the birds, the same birds I’d seen on the hike. “This is our river. Around here, we just call it the river, or the big river.” Numerous metal ladders lead down from the bridge to the river, but they’re blocked off so that only maintenance can access them. The only way to get down to the river is by crossing the bridge, then walking all the way from the other shore. I could see birds at the edge of the water, their oily bodies glistening while they stared at the factory. As I got closer, a couple of them flapped their wings, but none actually took flight. They’d hop a few yards, then land again, almost like pigeons at a train station. It didn’t matter what time of day, there they were. Where the river narrows, water from across the factory pours out from a system of drains. While some of that water looks milky or gray, most of it seems clean. The drains are wide enough in diameter that they’re never truly full with water. Coypus occasionally pop their heads out from the holes. Sometimes hot water pours out of the drains, and the coypus sniff inquisitively at the steam. The first time I saw a living one, I froze. But it didn’t run away or turn toward me. It was as if it hadn’t even noticed me. “Oh, right. I got so caught up telling you about the south zone that we walked right past it. Recently, a few people have spotted coypus — basically, really large rodents — along the banks of the bridge we just crossed. Has anyone here seen one? I’m guessing not. Really? Aoyama-san?” “Not today, but I’m pretty sure I’ve seen one before.” “Huh. So, the coypu is related to the rat. You can find them here, in the factory, and all over the country, really. I have no idea why, but apparently they were brought to Japan a long time ago. Eventually they got into the wild. I don’t know where they’re from originally, but wherever it was, it definitely wasn’t Japan. In the factory, they’ve only been spotted here, near the river. From what I hear, they’ve been around for years, and more sightings are reported every year. I’ve heard that maintenance has had some issues with them in the drains. If you’ve seen pictures of coypus, they look pretty cute, but don’t try to feed them. I don’t know what they eat, but please don’t leave any food outside for them.” Coypus eat grass, obviously. They’re not by the river for the meat, and they’re too slow to prey on birds. I used to see them only around the drains, but recently I’ve seen a few out in the open. They must be running out of space in there. Still, how did this one make it to the edge of the forest? It’s nowhere near the river. “Maybe it was looking for a new home?” “It’s possible. You didn’t touch it, did you?” “Uh-uh.” “Why would we do that, sensei?”

  “So what did you bring for lunch?” Kasumi whispered. It didn’t take me long to read through the booklet, no more than an hour. Once that was over, I got started on a large-format three-page printout, a blueprint for a machine, but I had no idea what kind. There was some writing in English, probably a list of parts and instructions. In the same packet was a stapled handbook and a one-page list of terms in Japanese and English. Inside the handbook, I found the same blueprint, but with text in Japanese. I figured that I was probably supposed to use the list to make sure that the English and Japanese versions matched up. I looked
at the cover of the Japanese version. At the top, it said EO-1987-POGI OPERATION MANUAL 16TH ED. Under the title was an image of a globe, but it clearly wasn’t a manual for globes. I read through the whole thing, and still had no idea what kind of machine it was for. The cross section was circular, and I could tell that there was some sort of electrical wire running through it. That was all. “Lunch? Nothing.” Kasumi tilted her head and asked, “Then what are you going to eat?” My girlfriend had told me the factory was full of options: cafeterias, restaurants, and convenience stores. “I figured I’d just grab something around here.” “Around here?” she opened her eyes wide and smiled. “All the shops are pretty far from here. We have food trucks, but it’s too late to beat the lunch rush. By eleven or so, the lines get really long. They’ll sell out before you can buy anything. The closest shop is always crowded and it’s a fifteen-minute walk from here. The closest cafeteria is even farther . . .” So she wasn’t smiling. I guess that’s how she looks when she’s concerned. “I’m sorry. I should have mentioned this sooner,” she said, tapping her cheek. “I guess I assumed your girlfriend would have told you about that . . . Now that I think about it, though, why would she know?” “No, it’s my fault. Anyway, I don’t mind walking. You said fifteen minutes? That’ll work. I’m a quick eater. Could you tell me which way to go?” “Sure. It’s easy. Go the opposite way from how you got here, and when the road comes to a fork, turn right. You’ll see a bunch of people headed that way.” The lunch bell rang. The women across from us bolted up. The older one bent back until her vertebrae popped. “Another slow morning, huh?” “Really? Mine was pretty rough.” The older one looked at me. “We always bring something. You should do the same. It’s cheaper that way. You married?” “No.” “Well, just cook some rice the night before. These days there are all kinds of frozen foods, so you can just heat something up and have that with the rice. Don’t even consider buying lunch here. Even the cheaper options run around 400 yen.” “Thanks. I’ll give it some thought. In the meantime, I should go buy something, so . . .” “You’d better hurry or all the good stuff’s gonna be gone.” And she was right. The food trucks were sold out, and by the time I’d pushed my way through the crowds to the nearest convenience store, it was almost 12:30. By then, all I could find was two energy bars and a bottle of tea. When Kasumi saw my lunch, she gave me that same smile, then offered me a tangerine: “Take this. It has lots of vitamins.” I thanked her and bit into my energy bar while staring at the blueprints I’d been working on before lunch. “Ushiyama-san. Look at that face you’re making. If you don’t use lunch to rest your eyes, you’ll burn out before the day’s over,” Kasumi said as she handed me another one of those hard candies with the chocolate filling. I still had one from earlier, so now I had two. “Um, can I ask you to take a look at this list? Does this Japanese look funny to you? It doesn’t look right to me.” “It’s fine!” Her breath was awful. “Re — really?” “You’re so serious, Ushiyama-san.” Kasumi’s face distorted, until I found myself staring at my girlfriend, smiling through a mouthful of melting chocolate. “Oh,” I said, blinking hard. Kasumi excused herself, grabbed the orange tube of toothpaste and the pink toothbrush off her desk and hurried toward the door. Once she was gone, the older woman (I could see the name IRINOI written on her ID) started to talk in a voice ruined by heavy drinking. “Okay, it’s now or never. Can’t let Kasumi-san keep him all to herself. Hey, care for a little treat?” She was holding a cookie shaped like a chrysanthemum. “Hey, what about me?” Glasses (I couldn’t see her nametag) handed me a teardrop-shaped sweet wrapped in silver foil topped with a tiny banner. “It’s Hershey’s. Do you like American chocolate? I know some people can’t handle it.” “I think I can.” It’s just chocolate, right? “Thanks.” “We don’t get a lot of young men here. I hope you can stay a while. But you won’t, will you? As soon as something else comes up, you’ll be gone, right?” I wouldn’t answer that even if we worked for the same agency. “Haha,” I said, shrugging. “Of course you will. And that’s how it should be. You gotta have backbone. You can’t stay in a place like this. How’d you wind up here anyway?” “I thought Kasumi-san said that his girlfriend works for their temp agency . . .” “Just because his girlfriend works for some temp agency doesn’t mean he has to work for them. So, what happened? Downsizing?” I don’t know why, but I guess I let my guard down. “That’s right. Downsizing. I was permanent, too, but . . .” It didn’t seem like a good idea to discuss my plans for the future, but what harm could it do to talk about the past? “I was a systems engineer. Then they let me go, just like that.” “Oh no!” Glasses squealed as she put her hand up over her mouth. “That’s so saaad.” “That’s the way things are now, though. It’s not just me,” I said, looking at the clock. “Well, you really should change jobs if something else comes along. I don’t know much about engineering, but I’m sure it’s nothing like this.” “No, you’re right. This is all new to me, but now that I’m here, I may as well give it my all.” Right as I said that, the bell rang and Kasumi came back. 12:55. Irinoi and Glasses both grabbed pieces of gum out of the containers on their desks and started chewing. “Okay. Four and a half hours to go.” “Irinoi-san, it’s a little early to start counting down,” Kasumi said, quickly noticing the growing collection of goodies on my desk. “How nice. Look at all those snacks,” she said, smiling. It was already 1:00, so I got back to the printout. Staring at the ink, the words started to break apart, failing to hold their meaning — all I could see was a meaningless arrangement of squiggles and dots, symbols and patterns, running on endlessly. Words are such unstable things.