NE YORK MIINING DISAStER

        By MURAKAMI haruki

        translated by Philip Gabriel

        t to save on air, and darkness surrouer dripping from the ceiling every five seds.

        “O.K., everybody, try not to breat ,” an old miner said. o a unnel creaked faintly. In togetraining to he sound of life.

        ted for y began to melt ao feel as if it    ure, in a different far-off world?

        Outside, people o reac was like a se from a movie.

        A friend of mine    of going to typen years. At a time orm sters or running our to stock up on mineral er or co see if ts are uffs a couple of s of beer into s, as off.    a fifteen-minute walk away.

        If o i s gates are locked. s dooatue of a squirrel o trance, drinks hen heads bae.

        But ime rance fee, ligte, and surveys t of treated ters. Some stare blankly at ted, jumping around in the gale-force winds.

        Some are frigric pressure; oturn vicious.

        My friend makes a point of drinking    beer in front of tiger cage. (Bengal tigers al t violently to storms.) side t of time t t bit disturbed by typare at s like a mermaid on te floor sipping ually felt sorry for him.

        “It’s like being in aor rapped inside rangers,” my friend tells me.

        typ from anyone else.    pany, managing fn iments. It’s not one of tter firms, but it does tle apartment as a nes on ’s ally six montand. t es of one anot tell t.

        My friend oed , a black tie, and black s are perfect for attending funerals. Every time someone dies, I call    and too big for me.

        “Sorry to bot time I called. “Another funeral’s e up.

        “ be in a    you e ht away?”

        and tie    on table, ly pressed, ted beer. t’s the kind of guy he is.

        “t at the zoo,” he said, opening a beer.

        “A cat?”

        “Yea asleep in a cage    said ‘Cat.’ “

        “ kind of cat?”

        “Just an ordinary one. Broripes, s tail. And unbelievably fat. It just plopped dos side and lay there.”

        “Maybe cats aren’t so on in hokkaido.”

        “You’re kidding, rigonis be cats i unusual.”

        “ell, look at it anot ts in a zoo?” I said.

        “tht?”

        “Cats and dogs are your run-of-type animals. Nobody’s going to pay moo see t look around you-th people.”

        t and tie and so a large paper bag.

        “Sorry to keep doing to you,” I said. “I kno some around to it. I feel like if I buy funeral clot’s O.K. if somebody dies.”

        “It’s no problem,”    using t’s better to ht?”

        It rue t in t made .

        “It’s    since I got t nor a single person I know has died,” he explained.

        “t’s t goes.”

        “Yes, t’s t goes,” he said.

        For me, on t er anot. I y-eig ty-seven, ty-eigy-nine. Not t age to die.

        A poet dies at ty-one, a revolutionary or a rock star at ty-four. But after t you assume t everyto be all rig past Dead Man’s Curve and you’re out of tunnel, cruising straigination doo be or not. You get your ; you s a poet anymore, or a revolutionary or a rock star. You don’t pass out drunk in p t four in tead, you buy life insurance from your friend’s pany, drink in el bars, and keep your dental bills for medical dedus. t’s normal at ty-eight.

        But t ly arted in our lives. It ta a lazy spring day—as if someone, on top of a metapaps. One mi fit anymore: t, and    pair. It was a mess.

        But deat t. A rabbit is a rabbit    of a    or a    it is—black smoke rising from a ey.

        t person to straddle ty and uy (or uy ay) was a friend from college waug a junior-o s’ o heir baby.

        One unusually ernoon in January,    to a department store and bougor, dotle of Scotco tub, and slit s. er. took a lot of pograpomato juice. t a suicide. After all, t t o use? No one knew.

        Maybe it        tment store t in a couple of    t o kill himself.

        leave a e. On tcable ty o fill, knog back glass after glass of    ared at t someto shave again.

        A man’s deat ty-eiger rain.

        During t ths, four more people died.

        One died in Marc at an oil field in Saudi Arabia or Ku, and ttad a traffic act. From July to November t ther friend died, also in a car crash.

        Unlike my first friend, o realize t t aircase times before and suddenly finding a step missing.

        “ould you make up t attack ure designer. It    nine, o tc. But t ake a nap,”    o sleep, and never woke up again.

        t, and ty-four, like a revolutionary or a rock star. One cold rainy evening just before Cmas, stened in tragic yet quite ordinary space betrud a crete telephone pole.

        A feer t funeral, I    to my friend’s apartment to return t, le of hank him.

        “Muce again,” I said.

        As usual, able sofa reflected a faint ray of sunligable tray and a pot of Cmas poiias.

        ed t, in its plastic c, s leisurely—like t ing our of ion—and quietly put it away.

        “I    doesn’t smell like a funeral,” I said.

        “portant. t’s ihem.”

        “Um,” I said.

        “One funeral after a to a glass. “ogether?”

        “Five,” I said, spreading out t    I t’s got to be it.”

        “Are you sure?”

        “Enough people have died.”

        “It’s like t someil enougar appears in the sun.

        After ed on ter sunligly into the room.

        “You look a little glum these days,” he said.

        “Really?” I said.

        “You must be t too muc,” opped t t night.”

        “?”

        “ depressed, I start to . Even if it’s tove, mop toill I’m exed, to sleep. In t up and by time I’m putting on my socks I ’t even remember    .”

        I looked around again. As alhe room was    and orderly.

        “People t t’s    our own way of fig off”

        “You’re probably right,” I said.

        “Even animals t 3 A.M.,” o a zoo at 3 A.M.?”

        “No,” I ans.”

        “I’ve only do once. A friend of mine    a zoo, and I asked o let me in    supposed to, really.”    range experience. I ’t explain it, but I felt as if tly split open and somet of it. And t    air ed. I couldn’t see it, but I felt it, and t it, too. It made me t t t to t t of time.”

        I didn’t say anything.

        “Any to go again—to t, I mean.”

        “You prefer a typhoon?”

        “Yeaake a typhoon any day.”

        t to o take t o tell o call it a day, but ing and scV. It y-seven-inc e trol, to touco cV    sound. I’d never seen sucV.

        I made te rounds of ttling on a ne on car imports, an outdoor er s, a family suicide. All ts of news seemed someed, like people in a ion po.

        “Any iing nehe room.

        “Not really,” I said.

        “Do you c of tV?”

        I s V.”

        “t least one good t tV,” er a    off whenever you like. And nobody plains.”

        ton on te trol. Immediately, t blank. till. Outside ts in    to e on.

        e sat tes, drinking alk about. telep ended not to . Just as topped ringing,    tton, as if ure returned instantly, and a entator standing in front of a grapured er as he price of oil.

        “See?    even notice t ces.”

        “true enough,” I said.

        “?”

        It oo mucrouble to t through, so I shook my head.

        “c off, one side ceases to exist. It’s us or     ts blackout. It’s easy.”

        “t’s one ,” I said.

        “t trees. In Argentina it rains political prisoners from ers.” cV off again. “I don’t    to say anyt ot sider t t t don’t end in funerals. types of deat smell.”

        I nodded silently. I felt t I kneing at. At time, I felt t I    . I ired and a bit fused. I sat ttia’s green leaves.

        “I’ve got some cly. “I broug back from a busirip to France a o be great. ould you like some? C be just ter a string of funerals.”

        out ttle and t tly on table, tely useless, you kno you pop the cork.”

        “I ’t argue here,” I said.

        e popped talked for a    live t.

        ty at ty at a bar in Roppongi, rio played, and t of good food and drink.    for a    in an appearance every year. Parties aren’t my t to take. I o do oand by myself in a er, relax, o be introduced ters and listen to t for    aria cures cer.

        But t evening someoroduced me to a er talk, I tried to retreat to my er again. But to my seat, whiskey glass in hand.

        “I asked to be introduced to you,” she said amiably.

        S type to turn ainly attractive. S s ty-to t rouble. t smile played on her lips.

        “You look exactly like someone I knoalk, t’s an amazing likeness. I’ve been g you ever since you came in.

        “If    mueet t else to say.

        “You would?”

        “I’d    to see    feels like to meet someone wly like me.”

        ant, tened. “But it’s impossible,” s the same age you are now.

        “Is t right?” I said.

        “I killed him.”

        trio    finiss sed set, and ttering of ed applause.

        “Do you like music?” she asked me.

        “I do if it’s nice musi a nice world,” I said.

        “In a nice elling some vital secret. “In a nice    vibrate.”

        “I see,” I said, not knowing o respond.

        “ty plays t club?”

        “No, I .”

        “Elizabetaylor is one of tomers at the club, and she’s really poor and miserable.”

        “hmm.”

        “So arrey asks Elizabetaylor if ss.”

        “And does she?”

        “I fet. It’s a really old movie.” e requests. t’s like    of tart to read it, all I    t is w.”

        S a cigarette betc it for her.

        “Let’s see,” salking about the person who looked like you.”

        “how did you kill him?”

        “I to a beehive.”

        “You’re kidding, right?”

        “Yes,” she said.

        Instead of sigook a sip of    barely tasted like whiskey anymore.

        “Of course, legally I’m not a murderer,” sher.”

        “    to, but I revies s you did kill someone?”

        “Rig like you.”

        Across t out a loud laugoo. Glasses ked. It sounded very far a extremely clear. I don’t kno    as if I    ing on er.

        “It took less to kill him.”

        e    for a he silence.

        “Do you ever t freedom?” she asked.

        “Sometimes,” I said. “hy do you ask?”

        “ you draw a daisy?”

        “I ty test?”

        “Almost.” She laughed.

        “ell, did I pass?”

        “Yes” so . Intuition tells me you’ll live a good long life.”

        “thank you,” I said.

        the band began playing ‘Auld Lang Syne.”

        “Eleven-fifty-five,” s tc. “I really like ‘Auld Lang Syne.’    you?”

        “I prefer ‘elope.”

        S like animals.”

        “I do,” I said. And I t of my friend w.

        “I ealking to you. Goodbye.”

        “Goodbye,” I said.
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