Salmonella men on Planet Porno: stories - By Yasutaka Tsutsui Page 0,42

fastened my helmet onto my back.

“Don’t forget anything, honey. What about your lunch box? And your hand grenade?”

“In my bag.”

“Handkerchief? Wallet?”

“Wallet? I shouldn’t think I’ll need money. All right, I’ll take it anyway.”

“Come straight home when you’ve finished, honey. No dropping in anywhere!”

“Am I likely to?!”

I left the apartment, seen off by my wife’s smiling farewell. In the main street, now bathed in morning sunlight, Galibians were making their way towards the station in streams. They must be commuter soldiers too, I thought. I joined them as they walked along. I suddenly had the strange feeling that I’d lost my identity. All the others were carrying guns; I was the only one holding nothing. What was I doing here? Why was I going to the front? My mind started to wander. Then I came to my senses with a start.

I’d forgotten my toolbox! How could I repair those rifles without a screwdriver? I did an about-turn and started running.

“Oy! Where are you going?”

“You’ll miss the train!”

“You’ll be late!”

I ignored the warnings of the others as I passed them, and just kept running until I reached our apartment. There, I picked up my toolbox before dashing out again and re-entering the main street. The stream of commuter soldiers was now a mere trickle.

By the time I reached the station, my fast train to Gayan had already left. The next departure was at 07.50. I would arrive in Gayan an hour after that. I’d have to run to Position 23 in only ten minutes to reach it by nine o’clock.

The platform was full of soldiers waiting for the next fast train. When it finally arrived, it was packed to the rafters. The doors opened and we all piled in.

“It’s the same every morning. That’s the worst thing about it,” said a little man standing by the opposite door inside the train. His face became wedged in my chest as the crowd behind me surged forwards. “We’re all exhausted by the time we get to the front. They ought to let us go flexi-time. Especially as it’s war.”

“I disagree,” said another soldier with bulbous eyes who was standing beside us. “It’s having to get there during the rush-hour that makes it like proper commuting! After all, we’re not like them namby-pamby part-timers or night workers. You should be proud of that!” A funny thing to be proud of, I thought.

“What position are you going to?” the little man asked me. “Position 23,” I answered in broken Galibian. “It’s a bit far, so I’m worried about being late.”

The little man opened his eyes wide. “You’ll never get there by nine!” he exclaimed. “That’s right on the front! Everyone on this train works at the rear!”

The man with bulbous eyes had been eyeing me suspiciously. Suddenly, he called out to the others. “Hey! This one’s not Galibian! He talks funny!”

The soldiers around us started to grow restless.

“A spy!”

“Yeah! Like that KCIA rat the other day!”

“Get him!”

“I’m not a spy! I’m Japanese!” I shouted in sheer panic.

“Why are you wearing our uniform then?”

“He must be a spy!”

“I’ve come to fix your rifles,” I explained falteringly. “I work for the company that makes your rifles!”

“Eh? So you’re the one that sold us all those duds?!”

They started getting boisterous again.

“I nearly had it yesterday!” The man with bulbous eyes lifted his rifle above his head and started badgering me. “This thing only fires once! I was nearly done for!”

“A lot of men have died!”

“What are you going to do about it?!”

“The bastard! Let’s kill him!”

“It’s not my fault! The company made a mistake!” I cried. “You’ve got to believe me!”

“Oy, you lot! Pack it in! You’re upsetting the other passengers!” yelled a man a little way down the train, craning his neck over the throng. I assumed he must be an officer. “And leave that man alone! We know all about him.”

The man with bulbous eyes reluctantly released his grip on my lapels and moved away, cursing. “All right then. Fix this rifle now!”

“I can’t do it in a moving train. And anyway, I’m not on duty yet.”

“Huh! As if it’s none of your concern!”

Having aroused so much hostility, I shrank into a corner. The train passed through some paddy fields before at last pulling into Gayan Station. On the platform was another mêlée of soldiers, evidently waiting to go home. They were squatting and sprawled all over the platform in utter exhaustion. Some were wounded.

“That’s the night shift,” explained the little man. “Actually, they get better pay.