Salmonella men on Planet Porno: stories - By Yasutaka Tsutsui Page 0,41

yards west of them, you’ll find the time recorder. Here’s your time card. Don’t lose it. Got that? Don’t be late. Otherwise you’ll be penalized. All right?”

I left the Army Ministry and took a taxi to the railway station. There, I bought a forces discount season ticket, checked the timetable, and finally went home to our apartment.

“It’s turned out just as you said this morning. I’ve got to commute to the battle zone from tomorrow onwards.”

I explained the whole story to my wife.

When she heard the details, her eyes glistened with excitement – as I’d expected. “My! You’ll get two salaries! And promotion to Head of Sales when we go home!”

“Unless I die first.”

“Of course you won’t die, honey! All you’re doing is repairing rifles, isn’t it?”

“There’ll be bullets flying all over the place.”

“So just avoid them, then!”

She was completely and utterly unconcerned. I tried to explain the awful realities of war, but soon gave up. Because I didn’t even understand them myself.

“Well, I’d better get your things ready for tomorrow,” said my wife, in exactly the same tone as when I went on a business trip. She started picking over the uniform and equipment I’d been given. “Gosh, is this your identification tag?” she mused. “Wow. And hey, what’s this?”

“Don’t touch that!” I yelled. “It’s a hand grenade!”

In her surprise and panic, she hurled the grenade to the far corner of the room, ran to the opposite corner and buried her head in her arms. After a moment, she turned around with a sheepish look. “Oh. Was it a dud?”

She obviously thought it would explode if you just threw it.

She glared at me as I laughed heartily. “Honey! How could you bring such a dangerous thing home?!”

“What can I do?! They don’t have lockers in the battle zone! I have to bring it all back with me every day. The other soldiers take their guns home, you know. Some of them even have bazookas! That’s right. The other day, a child was playing around with a machine gun her father had brought home, and ended up massacring six people!”

My wife stood speechless for a moment. Suddenly, she slapped the table with her hand. “Oh yes! You’ll need a packed lunch, won’t you.”

“Meals are supplied.”

She laughed. “What? Proper meals? I doubt it, honey!”

Of course she was right. Galibian food tastes like horse feed. One of the country’s most renowned restaurants is quite near my office. But I can never quite bring myself to eat there, and always go home for lunch instead. It stood to reason that the food dished up at the front would be even worse.

My wife pulled out a recipe feature she’d found in a woman’s magazine: “One Hundred Tasty Picnic Lunches”. “Let’s see,” she said as she leafed through it. “I’ve got some chicken. Shall I fry it?”

That night, we were due for some “marital activity”. Normally, once we start, we’re at it for about an hour and twenty minutes. But I didn’t want to tire myself out for my first duty the next day. So, as soon as we’d finished dinner, I jumped straight into bed and went to sleep. Well, after all. It would be a shame to die because I’d had too much sex the night before and couldn’t run away quickly enough.

My wife shook me awake at just past seven the next morning. “You’d better get up, honey,” she said. “You don’t want to be late at the front.”

“You’re right,” I said, hurrying out of bed.

She’d prepared a stupendous breakfast of deep-fried prawns in breadcrumbs, bacon and eggs with pancakes, vegetable juice and coffee with milk.

“It’s to give you energy,” she explained with a smile. What did she have to be so happy about? “Do your best to win that prize for fighting spirit, won’t you!” she added, as if she were sending her child off to the school sports day.

I read the morning paper over breakfast. The ‘War News’ column had taken on particular significance now – seeing as my life depended on it. Things didn’t look good. The Galibian army was in retreat. I read the ‘War Zone Weather Report’: mostly fair, with a southerly wind. ‘Yesterday’s Casualties’: 18 infantry, 1 petty officer. ‘Places To Avoid Today – Fierce Fighting Expected’: Position 16, Position 19, Position 23. I felt sick.

While I was still immersed in the newspaper, I suddenly noticed the time. The fast train would be leaving soon. I got up in a panic, hurriedly donned my uniform, and