Salmonella men on Planet Porno: stories - By Yasutaka Tsutsui Page 0,37

up to just below my nose. My nostrils were tickled by the sickly sweet smell of sweat, rising with vapour from the water.

The body of a drowned woman wrapped its hair around my neck. I pushed the floating corpse away and at the same moment let go of my son. He tried to cling to my chest, but I thrust him away and let him drown. Because from here on, swimming was the only way forwards. He sent air bubbles floating to the surface as he struggled, but quickly sank out of sight.

My mind was blank through lack of sleep, and the heat. The only thought in my head, a hazy notion of unknown origin, was that I just had to keep going forwards. When they fall to their deaths at the end of their march, lemmings have no noble intention of restoring the balance of nature by keeping their numbers down. In the same way, I entertained no feeling of introspection over the abnormal wealth, the abnormal peace, or the abnormal happiness of the human race.

There was just enough room for me to start swimming now. But, perhaps due to lack of sleep, I started to tire immediately. I looked down the line of watermelon-heads. They were thinning out now, but still stretched to the point where the sky merged with the sea. I wondered if I could really swim that far. Still I continued to move my arms and legs… automatically… automatically…

Commuter Army

“Huh. Now they’re recruiting day soldiers for the army! I wonder when that started?”

An ad in the Galibian People’s Daily made me sit up that morning.

“Conscription makes the government unpopular. But there aren’t enough volunteers. So, as a last resort, they’ve started placing recruitment ads in the newspapers. ‘Commuters Welcome,’ it says here.”

The current Galibian government seized power following a successful coup last year. Now, they’re bending over backwards to win public support.

“Really? That must attract a lot of people,” said my wife as she buttered some toast. “There are a lot of jobless homeowners nowadays, aren’t there. Even the unemployed have their own homes these days. So if they can commute from home instead of staying in the barracks, I should think a lot of people would be interested in signing up. I mean, instead of getting posted to the front, they can go home every night, can’t they.”

“People get sent to the front, not posted.” I took a gulp of coffee. “But yes, it would be easy to commute to the front from here. It’s only ninety minutes by train.”

“An hour on the fast train.”

Galibia is currently embroiled in a border conflict with its neighbour, the People’s Republic of Gabat. The dispute revolves around a small Galibian town called Gayan, at the end of the railway line.

“What kind of terms are they offering?” asked my wife. She can’t read a word of Galibian.

“Pretty good ones,” I replied, glancing through the ad. “The basic salary is 120,000 Galibian dollars. Then there’s an outfit allowance of 25,000 dollars, paid on signing up. Pay rises and bonuses are given twice a year when winning the war, once when losing. There’s also 5,000 dollars in ‘fight money’ for each battle you take part in. They even give prizes for fighting spirit. Sickness benefits and health insurance are covered. Well, that goes without saying. There’s no unemployment insurance, of course. I mean, what would everyone do if the war ended?! Oh and look. They even pay travel expenses. In full. Lunch is provided. Hey! And you get two days off per week! Even paid holidays. Part-timers welcome, it says.”

“Goodness!” My wife sighed, her eyes growing steadily wider. “So you could get much more than you do now. What qualifications would you need?”

“Hold on! You’re not asking me to sign up, are you?!” I said with a laugh. I looked back at the ad. “All ages welcome, no experience required, it says. Oh. Applicants with a driving licence get priority treatment. Other particulars to be arranged by personal interview. In other words, the more qualifications you have, the more pay you get.”

“Well, I’m sure you’d do very well there, honey. After all, you’re an expert on guns, aren’t you.”

“Yes, I suppose I am,” I said, forcing a smile. “But if they’re recruiting so many soldiers, they’re sure to need more guns, aren’t they. Then the Army Ministry will order more from our company. So rather than actually going to war myself, it would be much easier to wait here for