But, I guessed that ordinary people would spend such boring but safe lives every day. I had come to the realization. When I piloted an aircraft, I was afraid of being in such a tranquil life. It was surely peaceful. I needed not look around. I did not have to search for the enemy.
Probably, I have recently been persuading myself in this way. This is a human. This is humanity.
“It can’t be helped. Because I am a human.”
Kusanagi also would not be able to fly forever. Considering what she had become, it would be inevitable. But, no worry, I believe the safe life would be gently waiting for her. Only if she accepts it, only if her mind becomes calm, everything would work well and would be all right. She would become able to understand that it would be the simpler way. Yes, I believe so.
However ...
I had just one concern. The problem was whether the current I was the real me. Just a little part of me kept warning myself. A very small yellow lamp was blinking to inform me of something abnormal. No buzzer. The warning light blinked quietly at slow intervals.
Abnormal. I am abnormal.
This is wrong. I have to change something.
I had something like a premonition which was warning me.
And then ...
I could not help but think that the feeling was coming from the card case in front of my chest. To begin with, wasn’t what made me clip out the article the same warning circuitry?
Does it intend to keep warning me forever?
The light flickered in the tranquility like heartbeats. It was the only thing that was moving. It was very small and was twinkling in yellow.
While thinking about it, I would start to feel sleepy. The next day would come before I knew it. I was reminded of it, pulled out the card case, and checked Kusanagi’s photo was in it a few times. When was it? When did I clip out the article? Where did I put the razor blade that I used for the task?
I was running on the belt platform. I was looking at the digital numbers which continued to change. My sweat was running down. The walking pace was the rhythm of my breathing. But my heart was beating at a different pace. Why is my body so heavy? Why can I not go back to the sky? When did I make the mistake?
If I were a migratory bird, can I fly forever? Can I fly as long as my strength continues? If it cannot fly, it can do nothing but fall to the ocean. It was the real way of my living. Recently, I would fall into a warm blanket. A comfortable sleep.
Each time I woke up in the morning, I thought I could not fly that day as well.
Every day, I thought there was no sky anymore.
But I am still alive.
I am breathing.
At such a place, at a place where I cannot see the sky.
I notice that a human can still live a life.
If this is the state of living.
I might already be dead, correct?
Neither funniness nor sadness existed.
When I touch something, I feel it is cold or warm.
But, is it the meaning of living?
Why does the blood running in my body keep me alive?
For what purpose do my lungs repeat breathing?
Although a new box of magazine was delivered, I eventually ceased to open it. Anything new was not in it. Rather, I did not want a new thing anymore. Just within me, my blood was circulating. It wouldn’t get out of my body. Human beings are closed. Thoughts also raced through. I put the things that were served into my mouth and digested them. As instructed, I just opened my eyes and then closed them. I opened my mouth and closed it. Anyway, I have to prevent it from breaking apart. I have to make sure not to stop.
But.
I looked at the colors of the windowpanes that were getting gradually darkened.
I leaned against a cold wall.
I happened to remember something.
Those colors of the windowpanes were the light coming from far above.
There are clouds and more clouds above them.
On top of them, beautiful blue stretches without limit.
Only the sun was floating there.
I was moving straight in the space.
Swimming.
Flying.
Light vibrations.
The hand that was gently making a grip.
Through the goggles and the canopy.
Light was shining into my eyes.
By leaning my body a bit to the right, the world was naturally turning toward the opposite direction.
Above was now below. The right was replaced with the left.
The whizzing sound.
Like a flute.
The white stream appeared from nowhere and was trailing.
Even birds do not ascend to this altitude.
Spacious.
Beautiful.
The clear layer of the air made us float.
Resounding, screaming, groaning.
Shivering, rubbing, shredding.
Revolutions happen below.
Ceremonies are also held below.
Any events occur far below.
Below, down, and bottom.
They could not ascend to this level.
I know.
I know this place.
I’m proud of being able to come up here.
I respect everything that is here.
I love everything that exists here.
Again, someday, in the future.
I swear I will be back here.
Grazing, cutting, holding, releasing.
Returning, restoring, looking up, ducking under.
Thrusting, pulling, swinging, biting.
Shooting, twisting, gouging, dropping.
Dance.
Scatter.
Crush.
I know.
Our lives are at this place.
My life.
Your life.
Everything is here.
I have found it here.
Even the lives of those who have gone down.
They are still here.
Forever and ever ...
Sweetly, lightly, continuing lives.
Red, hot blood, gushing out.
Swelling flames.
Stuck fragments.
Explosive sounds that were following me from behind.
I do know.
Here.
I know this place.
Therefore.
Probably, I can live only in this space.
Sky.
Sky.
I get to know it, just in this place.
Then, the shine was cut off quietly and the glass in front of me was getting blacker gradually. The night covered the exterior and hid everything from me.
The door was knocked.
The dinner is almost ready, I guessed. I stood up, and walked to the door.
A uniformed man was standing there.
“Jinro Kurita.” He called my name.
I moved to the corridor and faced the man. I made a salute. It had been a long time since I saluted the last time.
“Here’s your assignment.” He said, while holding out an envelope. “We are moving. Get prepared within 30 minutes.”
“Sir, to where?”
“You will know, as you get there.”
“Roger.”
-2-