In the parlor of a villa belonging to a certain high government official, located in a suburb of Canberra called Red Hill, the Prime Minister of Australia had been sitting plunged in silence for nearly five minutes. His hairy hands, fingers linked, were thrust beneath his chin. The February heat was oppressive. And since the two other men present, the owner of the villa and a small, dark man, were also silent, the hum of a large air conditioner filled the room.
The Prime Minister began to tap his fingertips together, as though working to control something surging up within him. Then, like a huge tree being uprooted—he was more than six feet tall—he rose energetically from the low armchair in which he had been sitting. He linked his arms behind him and, keeping his eyes on the floor, walked slowly across the room. Then, hooking his thumbs behind the lapels of his coat, he turned toward his small-statured guest.
“Your story, Mr. Nozaki, is something to make the mind boggle. And the problem involved is a frightful one.”
The Japanese was short and thin, and his hair was nearly white. The fine wrinkles in his face and at the corners of his eyes gave him a tranquil look. His eyes were extraordinarily bright. He had obtained a secret interview with the Prime Minister by going through the man who was their host. There were less than a handful of people in the entire Commonwealth who knew that the Prime Minister would never refuse a request from this particular official. The Prime Minister had no idea how Nozaki knew of this nor why this old man had been so anxious to see him.
“As I imagine you’re well aware, the population of Australia has grown by nearly a million in the past ten years. It is now more than twelve million,” said the Prime Minister, beginning to move across the carpet again.
“I realize that,” said the old man, nodding, his bright eyes revealing nothing. “During the same period Japan experienced a population increase of some eight million. The total now stands at 110 million.”
“Roughly ten times ours,” said the Prime Minister, frowning.
“And in terms of population density, the rate is two hundred times that of your country.”
“But you realize, of course, that more than seventy percent of that is barren desert.”
The Prime Minister gathered his thoughts as he looked at the window. There was one topic that he now had no way of avoiding. A reddish moon had begun to rise in a dark blue sky, in which some trace of sunset lingered.
“Japan,” the Prime Minister muttered as though to himself. “I have worked to make this continent a land open to the world, a land of promise. My father and my grandfather, however, were men who championed a ‘White Australia,’ ” said the Prime Minister almost in a whisper as he took a cigar from his pocket and sniffed it. “At the beginning of this century, there was a gold rush in the North. Chinese laborers came pouring into the country. I don’t think that my father and grandfather were outright racists by any means. Just consider the circumstances. Australia was a continent with nothing but kangaroos and aborigines, a continent to which criminals were banished. The whites shipped here raised sheep and cattle in the well-nigh unlimited open spaces, and bit by bit they developed areas in which a man could live decently. Now, these unruly and unsettled Chinese laborers were not the sort to fit into this kind of world. And this uneasy situation was aggravated still further by the Oriental-exclusion movement, which was then at its height throughout the world. Thus came about the immigration restrictions and a certain measure of tragedy.”
The Prime Minister smiled wryly. He felt somewhat vexed toward this old man, Nozaki, who, almost without saying anything at all, had steered the conversation in this direction.
“So, then,” said the Prime Minister, finally putting a match to his cigar, “what is the extent of what you wish?”
“The first stage, a million people,” said the old man calmly. “For the future, should it be possible, we would like you to be kind enough to accept some five million.”
The Prime Minister was silent for a long time. He inhaled to draw the match flame into the tip of his cigar. Five million people? That would be forty-five percent of the population of Australia. Australia would become more than one-third Oriental!
“A million—that’s about nine percent of our population,” said the Prime Minister, blowing out a huge cloud of smoke. “And that would be in ... a two-year period?”
“Perhaps it might have to be quicker.” For the first time a trace of something that might have been anxiety appeared on the old man’s face. “If possible, we would like to begin bringing in the first contingent before the year is out—a hundred thousand, say. The idea would be a settlement in an undeveloped section of the interior.”
“That could present some problems,” said the official, breaking silence. “Without some adroit maneuvering, there’d be no getting Parliament to approve something like a settlement. Our country, you see, is very much attached to setting its own pace.”
“Wait a moment—perhaps we can carry it out,” said the Prime Minister, abruptly taking the cigar from his mouth as though something had occurred to him. “There’s the North-South railroad.”
“Ah, yes,” said the official. “There are still no firm plans for the section from Tea Tree to Newcastle Waters, are there? It would be a matter of opening that up to international bidding, and then having Japan take it with far and away the most favorable bid.”
“There remains the possibility that whatever we do will be too late,” said the old man. “What would you say to this, gentlemen? Japan will provide credit backing at the most favorable terms possible, and Australia will see to the rapid implementation of the plan. We shall, of course, bring our own equipment.