"WHAT WILL STAY WHEN THE COUNTRY MAY FALL" by Kuji Fuyuno
This is a short novel translated with www.DeepL.com/Translator (free version).
Original Japanese version is:
"WHAT WILL STAY WHEN THE COUNTRY MAY FALL" by Kuji Fuyuno
1983 words
The first one to be destroyed was a ramen shop that had just opened this year. It was so small that it was quickly destroyed by one piece of heavy machinery. Next was a large shopping mall completed two years ago, a bus terminal completed five years ago, and then condominiums were destroyed in the order of new construction. The regular sound of destruction rang out all over the city, and the mass of sound covered the city like a sandstorm. When the warehouses, viaducts, and highways disappeared, and the roads that had been expanded to six lanes were reduced to two lanes, the citizens finally realized that something strange was going on.
A man who started holding a placard in front of the station every morning said, "It's finally become convenient, so why do we need to go back to the old days?" A woman handing out leaflets next to him said. "What the new mayor is doing is just nostalgia. But that's not the point. It's the fact that the city council has been cut to the bone and has become a dictatorship of the mayor. The city council members are our representatives, and the money they spend is our tax money." The protesters in front of the station increased one by one. When the number of protesters had reached seven, the mayor appeared on a national TV program and talked about his attempts to bring the city back. "In the past, developers have built cities with an eye on the future. But they have all failed. So let's learn from the past. With that simple change of thinking, we were able to succeed."
The site of the former warehouse was surrounded by fireproof panels, and the weeds that had grown there were burned away. In its place, the arcade that had disappeared in a huge fire thirteen years ago was rebuilt. The faded colors of the signs and the distortions of the arcade's glass ceiling were perfectly reproduced, and the long tapes of hanging kusudama swayed in the wind. Almost all of the stores were shuttered, their contents completely empty. The only one open, an acupuncture clinic, did not have an examination table or even a curtain. A theme song that kept repeating its name was playing from the speakers on the street. A man who had been running a bar in front of the station for 30 years said, "Have you seen the floor tiles covered with bird droppings at the entrance of that shuttered street? It was a relic of the old acupuncturist. When he was still alive, he used to tear up bread and spread it around to collect birds. No matter how many times we told him to stop, he never did, and everyone got angry... Who could have imagined such a thing will be recreated? I was surprised, nostalgic, and angry all over again, but in the end, I kind of laughed. So I thought it was okay. There are more tourists now."
When there were no more protesters, a group of people in white suits took to the streets. They always moved in groups of five. One played the flute, one beat the drum. One appealed to the passersby with a microphone, and the other two handed out leaflets. "The mayor is the devil. We are praying desperately every morning and evening, but we may not make it. Please pray with us. Your prayer will save the world." Three months later, their newest cathedral was torn down, and a group of believers in white suits gathered and sat down to prevent the demolition. As the armed police dragged them away, their white suits were lightly stained. A video of a female devotee being beaten by a policeman and bleeding quickly circulated the Internet. One by one, the related facilities were destroyed and the guru's family was forced to leave town. Believers were scattered and ten huge vacant lots were created. One of the male councilors said with a face like a melting slug, "I didn't think we could get rid of them. The mayor had done what no one had ever done before." He died three days later. The cause of death was unknown. The man who was guru told a press conference, "We did not do anything. We are innocent. Rather, we even prayed for him, because we knew he was going to hell."
One after another, the city regained its old appearance. On a vacant lot, a convenience store was built, a parking lot was built, and a bankrupt DVD rental chain was built. All of them were empty and were soon replaced by beef bowl and hamburger chains. The temple and cemetery took a little longer to be built. By the time trees were planted around the temple grounds and the cloister was finally built, all the rebuilt chain stores had been shut down, and the appearance of a miscellaneous gate town had been recreated. When the closed elementary school was built, a woman who had attended the school at the time came to see the sights. She hummed along to the sound of a chorus playing in the background. "I'm so happy. I feel like I've finally come home. Ever since that cult group came to our town and remade it, I've lived my life thinking that there was no place to go back to. There is no home for me anymore... But now, I wonder if their home is gone too. Is there any need to think about that?"
As the city received more media exposure as a place of retrogression, it became even richer. The number of people who could live in the old houses was limited, so the number of citizens had been reduced by half, but most of them supported the mayor. The eldest daughter of the architect's family said, "I don't think the old days were better. People who justify unreasonable violence and make it a virtue to bear silently is the violent. Women didn't even have the right to vote. In the past, human life was hell. But it's not a bad idea to bring back the appearance of the city with today's values, and it's an interesting experiment. I think what's important is inside."
However, when it was decided that the infamous factory would be recreated, as expected, the issue became complicated in the council. The factory dumped pollutants into the river and the sea, and many people were affected by the pollution, and the city's name became known as a disease. Prior to the rebuilding of the plant, parts of the river and ocean were dyed coppery-red. A film crew from a local station approached the water's edge, stepping through the dead reeds, and reported on the scene. The news anchor woman said, "This is a disgrace to the city. How about recreating the city's stain in this way? Doesn't the mayor know how many years it took to get rid of that image?" A psychologist who always defended the mayor answered. "The river was colored in an environmentally friendly way, and the factory was only recreated on the outside. The inside is empty and there are no people, so no pollutants flow out. This project sends a message that we should not ignore history."
Despite the opposition, the factory was rebuilt. And was soon blown up. The whole thing was filmed by an art collective. A week later, a long video was released. The female leader of the group said. "This recording footage is unedited. What we will do to this recorded video is to cut, rearrange, insert, and discard the unnecessary parts. Then one moment the video is optimized as non-fiction, and the next moment it becomes fiction. As it gets shorter, the intensity of the story increases, but the linear time axis is lost, becoming a replaceable, chain of moments. And at some point, the story collapses and becomes information. We will continue to do this until this video will be a single frame. I will publish the entire process online."
After the demolition of the factory, a building was erected on the site that was not mentioned in the city's history books.
A high wall and a wire fence wrapped with barbed wire mesh surrounded the large site. There were no signs, and watchtowers were attached to the walls every few hundred meters. Three times a day, a siren broke the silence. The roofs were covered with artificial snow. Even though it was summer, the snow did not melt and remained. The sky was always lightly cloudy and the people who visited felt the cold.
It was a concentration camp. There was nothing and no one inside the camp, but many people felt as if there was something horrible packed inside. A number of citizens complained of hallucinations, and the psychiatrists in the neighboring towns were overwhelmed with work. A woman who had lived in the city for seventy years and finally moved away said like this. "My mother told me about this. This town was like that. But actually that is in front of my eyes, I realized that it was true, and that many people had been killed here... At night, there would be searchlights wandering around the walls, and sometimes I would hear the sound of ta-ta-ta. At first I thought it was drums, but it must be not. That's the sound of gunfire. And the sound of flutes, children singing from an unknown country, a voice that repeats something over and over, the smell of burning hair, rotten eggs, and experimental drugs... Doctor said that it was all in my imagination, but it was enough. It's over. It's over."
The camps intimidated people with their appearance for about a month, during which time the city hall was moved to the next city. The camps and all the houses were torn down and filled in, and mosses were introduced to the ground. Trees were planted, and with an effort by the forestry workers, a forest was created in twenty years. It took one hundred and fifty years to become the mountains like before. Animals lived in the mountains on their own. And so the city's project came to an end.
By the way, what happened to the mayor who accomplished this feat? As the city returned to be back, the mayor became younger and younger, became a child, a baby, and then disappeared. The mayor was not the only one to be like that. It was a matter of debate whether the disease of getting younger was a pollution of the city or not, but once they left the city, the symptoms healed.
No one's words make sense here anymore. The cicadas chirp in winter. Rain will fall from the ground to the sky. But all causes and effects were turned upside down, and time and events went backward, there was only one thing that remained the same. It was music. The neurologist said. "In a dream, visual information, linguistic perception, and behavior are dismantled, combined, and discharged in a distorted state, but auditory information - tone, rhythm, and intensity of sound - is not distorted. Even in dreams, only music continues to be produced organically. It is no exaggeration to say that, in that city... now can be called mountain... the fact that the music echoes and never stops in that city, is the proof that that place is in a dream." The animal behaviorist brought his coffee to his lips. And then he said. "The mountains are full of sound by nature. Except in the alpine zone where there is little life. If you think that music is only for humans, you are mistaken."