Oh yes! It was nighttime in Japan. The time when Noda, Jinnai, and Kuga would all be sleeping, dreaming. Atsuko realized that instantly. The three had intercepted Inui’s dream, using it to appear in reality and rescue them from his attack.
“Do as he says,” urged Konakawa, breathing heavily as he battled against the tide of fleeing humanity to reach them.
Noda used the surreal power of a dream character to change reality. He, Atsuko, and Tokita now stood beside a road, surrounded by farm fields that stretched to a line of mountains in the distance. They were standing at a bus stop in front of an old tobacco store; the scene was very familiar to Paprika.
“This is the start of my childhood home,” Noda said in a dreamlike tone. “So many of my dreams start here …” and the rest was no more than inaudible mumbling.
“Are we just going to stand around talking?” Tokita said disinterestedly. “Is there nowhere better we can go? Somewhere we can talk calmly about how to defeat the Vice President?”
“All right then …” said Noda, and with that, instantly transported them to a corner of his favorite okonomi-yaki restaurant from his university days.
They sat around a table with a metal hot plate in its middle. Other customers nearby gave them curious looks. Many were student couples. This place has changed, thought Noda. Does history work in dreams? Maybe this restaurant still exists. Maybe we’re here in reality!
“Do you think Jinnai and Kuga could still be fighting?” pondered Atsuko. “Toshimi’s still there too …”
“No. The phantom disappeared.” Jinnai turned to face them from his seat at the counter. He was no longer Acala the immovable one, yet had lost none of his fearlessness. “That Vice President, or whatever he’s called. D’you reckon he’ll be appearing here? Eh?”
The customer sitting next to him also turned to face them, bowing silently. It was Kuga, now back in his tuxedo.
“The ceremony hall must be in total chaos now,” Atsuko lamented. “No more Nobel Prize for us.”
“It’s OK. Using the power of dreams, we’ll go back in time, back to before the ceremony started,” Kuga said with a confident smile. “But before that, we’ll have to deal with that Inui bloke, won’t we.”
If it were so easy to “deal with” him, we would have done it already. They all groaned and fell silent. Before they knew it, the King of Sweden and Professor Karl Krantz sat facing each other in the opposite corner of the shabby little restaurant, blinking as they surveyed the scene around them.
“They’re here!” Atsuko said in dismay.
Inui’s malevolence had found its way into Noda’s dream. No – perhaps it had originally been Noda’s dream, but now it was unclear whose dream it was. For all they knew, they could all have been dragged back into Inui’s dream.
“I’ve started to sense a loathsome black thing inside, outside, inside my insides,” said Noda. “It’s sharp-edged and prickly. There’s nothing like that inside me.”
The group were transported from the corner of the okonomi-yaki restaurant to the middle of a dense jungle. For some reason, Kuga was missing. The jungle was alive with Inui’s febrile energy. But it clearly wasn’t Inui’s dream. Noda thought they were on the island of Dr. Moreau; that thought was immediately relayed to the others. Vaguely familiar with the story, Jinnai pulled out his knife and gripped it in battle readiness. You’re right. It’s the final confrontation, thought Atsuko, now transformed into Paprika. It’s good. We have a lot of friends here.
Himuro appeared before them wearing a mud-covered lab coat. He was gigantic, so tall that they had to look up. “I might be dead,” he said pitifully, observing them with his little round eyes, “but I haven’t forgotten my bitterness at being killed. These are the last scraps of my consciousness as I lay dying. There are lots of them lying around here.”
Tokita howled in terror and crouched in the undergrowth.
Jinnai hurled his knife at Himuro’s eye, but it had no effect in a dream. It merely made Himuro’s face look even more grotesque and Tokita even more terrified. Noda remembered those fights with old classmates in his dreams, and the feeling of emptiness that accompanied them. “Be gone!” he yelled as he performed a wild lunge at Himuro. Called up by Noda’s mind, a number of humanoid creatures dressed in rags emerged from the undergrowth, together with Takao, Akishige, and Shinohara, to join in the attack on Himuro.
Himuro turned into Inui for a moment, then vanished. Inui must have been shocked to be attacked by those hideous humanoids, creatures that not even he had imagined.
They were inside a cathedral bathed in a dark-red light. Now Jinnai was missing; he’d either been unable to enter, or someone had shut him out. Torataro Shima joined them in his place.
“There’s danger here,” said Shima. “We’re in Inui’s dream now, no doubt about it. He’s brought me here many times. I detest this place!”
“All right, let’s go back to my dream, back to my dream,” Noda invited the entourage, resisting his own impulse to fall into a deep sleep. “See, it’s like going on a journey, isn’t it? I’ll be happy to take you with me. I’ll drive the Marginal.”
They were in an old-style inn, under the blue sky and sunlight of early afternoon. Farm fields could be seen from the window. It looked like Toratake’s inn. Shima and Tokita had disappeared; now only Paprika and Noda were in the tatami-floored room. Perhaps the others had all returned to their own dreams, but what about Tokita? Had he been forced back into Inui’s dream? A paper screen slid open on both sides to reveal Nobue Kakimoto in the next room, sitting sideways in a cotton kimono. She gawked at the pair, with hair hanging horribly to one side and her sagging labia exposed.
“Transient illusion of love. It was a sorrow I brought on myself. I wish I could bite you to death!”
This was the kind of phantom Noda found most abhorrent. Shrinking from the ghastly obscenity of the scene, he ran to the window. Namba was selling vegetables in a field outside. “Heeeeelp!” called Noda. “I’m scared! Namba Namba Namba, come and help me, help me, please!”
But Namba just laughed and shook his head, climbed onto a giant tomato and flew off down the road into the distance, floating about three meters above the ground.
“I know,” said Paprika. “This is my fear. The Vice President is using it to his advantage.”
“All right. Come on, Torao.” For some reason, Noda called his son’s name. He’d shouted “Torao,” but in his mind he saw the image of Takao Toratake. An enormous tiger appeared from the tokonoma alcove and went to attack Nobue. Her already crumpled body collapsed entirely, turning into an indeterminate lump of flesh that clung to the tiger, then was eaten by it and bled profusely.
Paprika could see what was really happening. An intense battle with Inui was in progress. At that moment, the contest was evenly matched, but she was nowhere near defeating him. What could she do to “deal with” him once and for all? Would she have to destroy his stubborn ego? And how could she do that?
Yes. How could she do that?
She was inside the cathedral again. The inner sanctuary was deserted; Paprika was alone. A moment’s slip in concentration, and she’d been transported back to Inui’s dream. But this time, the cathedral looked uncannily like the concert hall where the awards ceremony had been held. A life-size image of Christ on the cross stood in the center of the altar. His near-naked body was contorted with pain, fresh blood flowing suggestively over his smooth white skin. Why did Paprika find this image of the dying Christ so alluring? Paprika gasped. It was not Jesus Christ but Morio Osanai. That was why the sight of his freshly flowing blood, his face beautifully distorted in suffering seemed so erotic to her. It must have been the image of Christ in Inui’s mind, the object of his adoration.
Inui’s hoarse voice rang out. “Damn you, woman! Damn your impurity! Your meddling in other people’s lives! Driftwood! Viper! Scum! May you be crushed! May you be sliced up into little pieces! Then I will offer up your remains on this altar!”
&n
bsp; A window shattered, and fragments of stained glass came flying at Paprika. There was nowhere she could run. She tried to duck under a chair, but the floor started to undulate, presenting further danger. She could feel Noda, Tokita, Jinnai, and Kuga desperately trying to help her. Inui had removed them from his dream, and was now homing in on Paprika, his first victim.
Noda twisted his body to break through an invisible membrane, and somehow forced his way through to Inui’s dream on the other side. He had been spurred on by that unrealistic bravery that always existed in his dreams, together with an almost indecent passion toward Paprika, and had used them to come to Paprika’s rescue. He appeared just below the altar. Instantly, layers of Inui’s subconscious entered Noda’s vision through gaps in the shell of his preconscious, cracked by the combined violence of love and hatred. Noda would now start his attack on Inui, using a logic that could only exist in dreams.
He jumped onto the altar and whipped off the loincloth from the figure of Christ, the embodiment of Morio Osanai. The result was just as Noda had strongly willed it to be, using the power of dreams. There were female genitals between the savior’s legs.
“Wahahahahahahahahahahaha!”
Inui’s insane laughter filled the sanctuary. The ceiling peeled off and shards of stained glass danced through the air. They turned into dead rats, German dictionaries, wineglasses, fountain pens, scorpions, cats’ heads, syringes, and a motley jumble of other objects that filled the space, flying around madly, swirling like a whirlwind, surging like a raging sea.
“He’s lost his mind!” shouted the voice of Kosaku Tokita, unseen.
But the madness was short-lived.
The cathedral disappeared, whereupon all returned to their respective dreams and their respective realities. Except for Inui, that is. It wasn’t clear what had happened to him.
This was the moment Kuga had been waiting for. He’d been standing by, having diverted the power of his dreams to make time go backward. He’d done so by focusing his mind on dreams in which the dreamer wants to return to the past, and had thereby tried to reinstate a specific time in his dream. He had succeeded in his attempt, but the sheer effort of it had drained every last drop of his energy, both mental and physical. He lost consciousness.
Professor Karl Krantz started to speak in English. “Doctor Kosaku Tokita and Doctor Atsuko Chiba, for your invention of psychotherapy devices in the treatment of mental illness, and your considerable achievements in their clinical application, it is an honor and a privilege to convey to you, on behalf of the Royal Swedish Academy of Sciences, our warmest congratulations on winning the Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine …”
26
“P.S. I Love You” echoed around the dark-brown interior of Radio Club. In a spacious booth at the back of the bar, the one that was like a private room of its own, a quiet celebration was in progress. The participants were looking back over weighty events that seemed to have taken place only a moment ago, and were rejoicing in their safe conclusion.
“Amazing that such a place existed,” Torataro Shima said with an air of lament. “None of us knew about it. He must have been sleeping there the whole time. He must have starved to death in his sleep.”
Seijiro Inui’s emaciated body had been found in one of the forgotten detention rooms, in the second basement of the hospital attached to the Institute for Psychiatric Research.
“He must have been hiding there, building up his psychic power for the day of the awards ceremony,” Toshimi Konakawa said with a sigh of disbelief, slowly and repeatedly shaking his head. “He knew very well that it would ultimately destroy him, yet he was still wearing the DC Mini. It was embedded so deep in his skull that a layer of skin had grown over the base. Such was the depth of his malicious vindictiveness.”
“And you think he died just after that last confrontation?” asked Tatsuo Noda.
“Probably. There were no more appearances after that, until they discovered his body. Either in our dreams or in reality.” Konakawa nodded. “That last battle must have used up all his remaining energy.”
“I thought he’d gone mad for a moment.”
“He did go mad,” Tokita said before turning to Konakawa. “Did Osanai know the Vice President was down there?”
“If anything, I think it was Osanai who put him there. And I reckon they kept Himuro there as well.”
Morio Osanai had been charged with Himuro’s murder.
“Himuro. And Hashimoto. Poor blokes.” Tokita hung his head, revealing his inner torment. “They all went mad from the beginning. We all did, me included.”
The others showed a certain discomfort with that notion, and shifted uneasily in their seats. The residual effects of the DC Mini. No, that wasn’t all. The anaphylaxis effect, which could but increase. The immune hypersensitivity, which could but grow more hypersensitive. It was a fear they all felt but could not express. If only someone could make them forget it. Anyone.
“But at least Tsumura and Kakimoto are on the way to recovery,” Atsuko Chiba said cheerfully as she patted the back of Tokita’s hand. She felt proud, at that moment, of her ability to appear nonchalantly light-hearted for Tokita’s sake.
“More drinks, anyone?” Kuga stood beside Atsuko, a huge crescent-shaped smile occupying the whole of his face.
“That’s right! We haven’t had that toast yet!” Noda exclaimed, turning to Kuga. “Yes. The same all around, if you would.”
“The same all around. Coming right up.” Kuga bowed low in a state of great joy.
“And have you recovered now?” asked Shima.
Kuga gave another polite bow. “Oh yes. The collapse was only temporary. Now I’m just as you see me,” he declared, spreading his arms wide.
“He says he’s fatter than before,” Jinnai called with a laugh from behind the counter.
“By the way, it’s been known for married couples to win the Nobel Prize, but I don’t think two prizewinners have ever married each other before,” said Noda. “When do you plan to tie the knot?”
“Well, once all this hullabaloo has died down a bit,” Tokita said sheepishly. “Quietly, no press conferences or anything like that.”
“We’re really so very sorry,” Atsuko said with her head bowed.
They all laughed at the faintly immoral implication behind Atsuko’s words, which only they could understand. Drinks were brought. Jinnai and Kuga also helped themselves, whereupon all raised their glasses in a toast to Atsuko and Tokita, winners of the Nobel Prize and now engaged to be married.
“And that’s the end of Paprika, too,” Atsuko said emphatically, surveying the men’s faces as she did. “Whatever happens from now on, Paprika will not be working again.”
“True,” Shima concurred sadly. “Inevitable, really. So that sweet, lovely girl is really dead now?”
“She’s dead,” Atsuko said with a smile. “She no longer exists.”
“No, that’s not true,” said Noda, straightening up from the back of the seat. “Paprika is still alive. Just like any idol, she will live on forever in the hearts of those who met her. I will never forget her, for one.”
“But we won’t be able to meet her,” said Konakawa.
“Yes, we will,” Noda contended with some conviction. “If we want to meet her, we can always find her in our dreams. If we really want to meet her, we need only wish sincerely to see her, and she will always join us there. I really believe that. She will be an independent personality. She will smile at us and talk to us, just as she has until now. I’m sure she will. With her incredible beauty, her delicate gentleness, and her great intelligence coupled with unbending courage …”
27
“P.S. I Love You” echoes around the dark-brown interior of Radio Club. There are no customers in the bar. Jinnai is wiping glasses behind the counter, Kuga is standing by the door. As always.
What was that? Jinnai tilts his head. It’s almost as if he can hear some customers in the booth at th
e back of the bar, enjoying a quiet conversation and good-natured laughter.
They’re fondly remembered, those customers, a group of really decent people who often used to meet, both in reality and in dreams. I wonder if they’ll ever be back, thinks Jinnai. How long is it since they were here?
He looks up to see his old friend Kuga standing by the door with his back to him, completely motionless. As always.
Jinnai can no longer resist the urge to call out. “Hey. We were fighting, weren’t we?”
Kuga doesn’t turn, but the trace of a smile on his lips broadens a little. “Yes. We were fighting,” he replies. He almost looks as if he’s asleep.
Jinnai nods twice before going back to his wiping. He smiles in satisfaction; his mouth seems about to break into a chuckle. He waits a moment, then, as if to confirm what he heard, calls out to Kuga once more. “And we were courageous, weren’t we?”
“Yes. We were courageous,” Kuga replies with a groan.
Jinnai looks happy as he increases the vigor of his wiping. But there’s something he still finds hard to comprehend. He remembers what it is and the smile leaves his face. He mumbles a question, neither to himself, nor to Kuga.
“So – it was all a dream, was it?”
Kuga doesn’t answer. His back is still turned. His eyelids are closed, as if he were deep in meditation. It’s not certain whether he knows the answer or not. The smile on his face makes him look more and more like an image of Buddha.
Yasutaka Tsutsui, Paprika
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