Penguin Highway

by Tomihiko Morimi

  “Is this the Jabberwock Woods?” Hamamoto asked.

  “That’s in the other direction.”

  We applied bug spray and went in.

  Different forests feel very different. The Jabberwock Woods is the most forest-y forest in town, I thought. A proper forest-y forest felt like the Amazon.

  The forest we were going through was not like the Amazon. It was all thickets. A place like this didn’t make me feel like we were about to find ourselves at the ends of the earth. An Amazon-like forest was one that might lead to such a place. I considered trying to explain my idea of the ends of the earth to Hamamoto, but for some reason, I was reluctant to do so. She might just say it wasn’t very scientific.

  Perhaps because of the river, the forest was quite humid. We had to be very careful not to slip and fall into the river. There weren’t any fences here.

  As we walked through the forest, Hamamoto talked about her father. Her father was a college professor, and every day, he went to the college in town, taught students, and did research. He was studying the Earth. Her father had a very interesting job.

  “My father’s at the university today,” she said. “There’s a special class.”

  “My father’s at the university, too,” I said. “He’s taking a class there.”

  “Oh? Well, maybe my father’s teaching your father, Aoyama.”

  “That would be nice.”

  Just then, Uchida, in the lead, stopped in his tracks.

  “What is it?” Hamamoto asked.

  Uchida just silently pointed at the river ahead of us. The trees grew thick overhead, and the river was dark. We looked where Uchida was pointing, at the surface of the river, and saw a white patch on the surface where the water was swelling up. And this swollen patch was moving toward us very quickly.

  Hamamoto grabbed my arm. “Aoyama, what is that?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “A fish?” Uchida asked.

  As we stood on the bank watching, the white thing moved forward, pushing the water aside. It passed right in front of us. It was a huge fish, so big I would need both hands to hold it. It had a pale, slippery body. It was far bigger than anything living in a city stream should be. As the fish passed us, it jumped out of the water. Hamamoto and Uchida both screamed. Through the water spray, I saw shiny silver skin, like a wet eraser.

  Even after the fish was gone, we stood rooted to the spot.

  “What was that?” Hamamoto asked. “A fish? Ewww.”

  “This river has fish that big?” I whispered.

  “It’s like the Amazon,” Uchida said.

  At last, we got through the woods. Beyond it, the river once again had fences on both sides. We passed through a field of overgrown grass. The heat hammered down, making it hard for us to breathe. There was an asphalt road next to the grass, and across that road was a row of buildings like a future city. We could see a lawn surrounded by a fence.

  “Oh, this is the university,” Hamamoto said. “Where my father works.”

  She stepped onto the lawn, walking across it.

  “What about exploring the river?” I asked.

  She had a tendency to forget that I was the expedition leader. This was very sad. Uchida and I left the river, too, following after her.

  The university on a Sunday was empty and extremely quiet.

  Her father’s lab was in a building called the Earth Science Laboratories. Hamamoto said she’d come to visit several times, so she led us through the buildings with ease. The passages between the tall laboratory buildings were shady, and a hot wind whistled between them. “Are we allowed to be here?” Uchida asked anxiously. Hamamoto seemed sure that it was fine.

  As we walked, we passed in front of a curved glass wall. Inside the glass were a lot of round tables, like the waiting area at an airport. Hamamoto called it the cafeteria. Then she stopped, peering in. I saw a man with an amazing beard sitting at a table in the corner, talking to my father. Sitting at the table talking to both of them was the lady from the dentist’s office, which I found extremely surprising.

  My father noticed us outside and stood up, looking surprised.

  The man with the beard looked our way, too.

  “That’s my father,” Hamamoto said.

  “The one with the beard?”

  “Yep.”

  “That’s an amazing beard.”

  “He looks scary,” Uchida said.

  “My father’s scary,” Hamamoto said, apparently delighted. “Very scary.”

  We went into the cafeteria. It was nice and cool inside. We were all sweaty, so we had to stop by the bathrooms and wash our faces.

  “I’m surprised,” my father said. “Were you planning on exploring the university today?”

  “Not at all. Our arrival here is a coincidence,” I said. I looked at the lady. “What brings you here?”

  “Studying,” she said, puffing out her chest.

  Hamamoto’s father was a professor here, and today he’d held an extension course. My father had seen a pamphlet at the neighborhood association, and the lady had been invited by the professor himself—he was a patient at the dentist’s office. After the lecture, the lady had come over to say a few words, and my father had joined them. While they talked, they’d decided to get some tea at the cafeteria. And then we’d arrived.

  We all gathered around the table drinking soft drinks like we were on a picnic.

  Hamamoto’s father was researching the atmosphere. He was a big bear of a man and didn’t talk a lot. He had large eyes that stuck out, and it always looked like he was glaring at something. He had a blue notebook, too, sitting on the cafeteria table next to him. Whenever he explained things, he always curled his big body up and drew things in his notebook. He explained the topic of the day’s lecture in terms we could understand. It was about an experiment to measure the composition of the atmosphere by floating a small balloon high up in the sky. He answered all my questions in great detail.

  I took out my notebook and took notes on this, and Professor Hamamoto ask if he could see my notes. His notebook was filled with complicated formulas and graphs, and I thought it was just wonderful. If I could learn to make notes like this, I’m sure it would be really fun. I showed the professor some notes I’d taken on black holes.

  “These are very well written. You’re interested in outer space, Aoyama?”

  “Extremely interested.”

  “That’s great. I’ve got some good books at home I can lend you.”

  “You like space, too?”

  “I do. I don’t know that I could talk to anyone who wasn’t interested in outer space.”

  “I’m not interested in outer space,” the lady said, laughing. “I guess I can’t talk to you anymore.”

  “You take extremely good care of my teeth. So even if you’re not interested in outer space, I can overlook it.”

  The lady seemed in much better health than the last time I’d seen her. Color had returned to her cheeks, and she didn’t look sleepy. She’d been smiling the whole time. Seeing her talk to my father and Professor Hamamoto made me realize she was a real grown-up after all. That made me feel a little sad. Strange.

  “Professor, Aoyama is engaged in several different research projects. He’s very busy,” the lady said. “You’re studying me, too, right?”

  I was surprised to hear her say that.

  “You’re studying her?” the professor asked.

  “She’s an extremely interesting individual,” I said cautiously.

  “I can see that. She’s certainly full of mysteries,” the professor nodded.

  “Aoyama and I are engaged in a joint research project,” Hamamoto said proudly.

  “So I’ve heard,” the professor said, looking very sad. “And you won’t tell me what it is you’re researching.”

  “Is that why you’re slacking off on researching me?” the lady said. “What is it you’re studying?”

  “It’s a secret. We will publish the results
once our research has concluded.”

  Professor Hamamoto’s eyes locked onto me. “That’s good,” he said. “Secrecy is important. You don’t want to accidentally blab about really important research.”

  We decided to call off the day’s exploration there.

  It was getting late, and Hamamoto seemed pretty tired. My father agreed to give us and the lady a ride in his car. The lady took the passenger seat, and the three of us sat in the back. Hamamoto’s father still had research to do, so he saw us off in the parking lot. He was squinting into the sunlight, which made him look like a surprised bear that had just wandered out of the forest. Hamamoto waved at him from the car window, and he waved back, his face still wrinkled up.

  “Your father really likes doing research?” I asked.

  “He really does. That’s why he gets so many cavities. He always eats sweets when he’s researching.”

  “Is that why he comes by our office so often?”

  “All true researchers suffer from cavities,” I said.

  “You need to brush your teeth properly,” my father said. He was right.

  “I always forget. Because I’m so busy.”

  “You’re definitely busy. But there are busy people who don’t brush their teeth and busy people who do brush their teeth. Which do you think is smarter?”

  “If you put it like that, definitely the ones who do brush their teeth.”

  “Aoyama, you’re exactly like your father,” the lady said. “Both your passion for research and the way you talk.”

  “When I was a kid, I was neither as logical as him nor as interested in research.”

  As we passed the library and turned onto the bus route toward our neighborhood, I witnessed a mysterious phenomenon. Hamamoto was the first to notice. She poked me in the ribs and hissed, “The sky! The sky!”

  There was a cloud in the sky over the water-tower hill. The center of this cloud was swollen and hanging down. The lower end of this protrusion was narrow and spiral-shaped. I’d never seen a cloud like that before. Uchida leaned over and looked up and said, “That’s weird.”

  “Isn’t that over the Jabberwock Woods?” Hamamoto said, frowning.

  I can read lots of books, take notes with my hand in my pocket, and build a space station out of LEGOs. Acquiring such useful skills will make me a great grown-up.

  Swimming was another thing I was good at.

  When I first started elementary school, I was the kind of kid who avoided putting his face in water. I found the need to hold your breath in the water extremely restrictive. I thought it was very strange that we couldn’t breathe in the water even though water was the origin of all life. But we had to use the pool at school, so I had my father teach me, and I learned to swim. Now I can swim like a dolphin.

  In July, our school started swim lessons. We all changed into swimsuits and gathered at the pool. The sky was extremely blue, with only a few fluffy clouds.

  Before we could get in the pool, we had to form two rows and pass under some big showers. Uchida and I stood at the very back of the line. Uchida didn’t like the pool and looked ready to cry. Suzuki’s gang was ahead of us, and they turned back, yelling, “Uchida and Aoyama are scaaared!”

  “I’m not scared,” Uchida said, his voice shaking. “I’m just really nervous. That’s different from scared.”

  “That’s certainly the case. When I hear thunder, my stomach aches. But that’s not scared. My heart is just beating faster, and I start to sweat, and my stomach hurts.”

  “Exactly.”

  I stretched to see, and the front of the line was already under the shower. The noise of the water hammering down was getting closer. I could hear the shrieks and laughter of my classmates as the water hit them. I saw Hamamoto glance back at us, her hair all stuffed up under her swim cap. She grinned, then strode boldly forward, vanishing behind the wall on the far side of the shower. She was like a tiny foreign automobile going through the car wash. The shower spray filled my vision. I could smell chlorine. The water was extremely cold. Uchida was clutching his head, so I pulled him through the shower. I yelped, and Uchida squeaked.

  We did our warm-up exercises and then got in the pool. The water felt cold at first, but as we got used to it, it started feeling good. The first half was lessons, but during the second half, we could play as we liked.

  Uchida sat on the side of the pool, dangling his feet in the water. I called out to him as I swam past, but he just waved and said, “I’m good.” The teacher was wearing flip-flops and a shirt over her swimsuit. She came and sat next to Uchida, chatting with him.

  I slowly lowered my head into the water, keeping my eyes just at the water line. I imagined what it must have felt like billions of years ago when the first brave life-form stepped onto land. Maybe the first creature on land thought, It’s hard to breathe up here. I should go back to the water. The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to sink to the bottom of the pool. I ducked all the way under, letting a trail of bubbles out of my mouth, and looked around the pool depths.

  When I was fully underwater, all the sounds faded and I was wrapped in a strange silence. Meanwhile, the bubbles I created were quite loud. I could see the bodies of my classmates all around. There were other kids underwater, their eyes squeezed tightly shut. I could see Uchida’s feet dangling in the water where he sat on the side. Looking up from the bottom of the pool, I saw that the surface was glowing, the light swaying. If I took a deep breath, I could stay down there for a very long time. The key lay in controlling the volume and speed with which you breathed out.

  One day, the lady and I would go to that seaside town, and I might be told to go swim in the ocean. I was glad that I’d learned to swim. I’d never swum in the ocean, so I wasn’t sure exactly how salty the water was. I was really looking forward to going there with her.

  Through the bubbles, I saw Hamamoto drifting by.

  She was balled up, floating near the surface like a buoy. With her swimsuit, she looked like a dolphin. Dolphins can talk to one another with sound waves. She had her eyes shut and seemed to be listening to the sounds of the water world.

  She’s doing the same thing I am, I thought.

  Then Hamamoto’s eyes snapped open. Her big eyes looked straight down at me. I puffed up my cheeks, sitting still. She gave a little wave, and a few bubbles escaped her lips. She might have said something, but in the water, I couldn’t tell what. I wasn’t a dolphin.

  Then I saw suspicious movement from Kobayashi and Nagasaki, two minions in the Suzuki Empire.

  They were creeping over toward the side of the pool, where Uchida’s feet were. Uchida was clearly in trouble, so I moved over behind Kobayashi and Nagasaki. I was planning on surprising them by pulling their suits.

  But I was too focused on them and let my guard down.

  Someone grabbed my suit from behind. They yanked on it so hard, I was shocked into swallowing some water. I hastily grabbed the side of the pool. I got my head above water and took a breath, but the person pulling my suit didn’t let go. The string had come undone, and it was coming off. This was an extremely unfortunate position. The two minions noticed and came over, grabbing onto my suit as well. My suit was all the way down to my feet now. My nether regions felt suddenly very cold.

  I turned around and found Suzuki spinning my suit around above his head, retreating toward the far side of the pool.

  The teacher blew her whistle. “Everyone out!”

  Everyone climbed out, dripping wet, bodies gleaming like dolphins on the side of the pool. I alone remained in the water. Suzuki and his minions climbed out, too, laughing and watching me.

  “Aoyama, what’s up?” the teacher asked.

  I rested my arms on the side of the pool, wondering why Suzuki had stolen my suit. Had they wanted mine for some reason? But they had their own, and given that mine was entirely ordinary, there was nothing to be gained by taking it. He didn’t want my suit; he wanted to put me in this predicament. I didn’t think it w
as nice to steal someone’s swimsuit for one’s own enjoyment. The more trouble I was in, the more he enjoyed it. Therefore, the less bothered I acted, the less he would enjoy it. If I didn’t act at all upset, he wouldn’t find it much fun and wouldn’t try something like this again.

  Based on this logic, I chose to pretend there was no problem.

  I climbed right out of the pool, and the teacher yelped, “Aoyama, where’s your suit?”

  The girls all squealed and the guys gaped. “Aoyama, wait! Stop right there!” the teacher said, trying to give me her shirt. I stood up proudly like I’d just stepped out of the bath, walking along the edge of the pool. Suzuki and his group tried to hide behind the other kids, but everyone opened the way for me. Hamamoto was standing there, saying, “Oh my!” She saw Suzuki trying to hide and grabbed his arm, pushing him toward me. I stopped in front of him.

  “Where’s my suit?”

  “Dunno!” he said.

  “Where’s my suit?”

  “Dunno!”

  “Where’s my suit?”

  Suzuki shoved me away, yelling “I said, I dunno!” and then ran away. I chased after him. Eventually, he yelled, “Bottom of the pool!”

  The teacher wrapped her shirt around me.

  Everyone else searched the pool and eventually found my suit.

  That evening was quiet and lonely. At night, our neighborhood got as quiet as the bottom of the sea, but only some nights felt lonely. I attempted to research what divided lonely nights from not lonely nights, but I never discovered an underlying principle.

  I was lining up LEGOs on the living room table and putting them together. My sister was asleep on the couch. My mother was drinking tea. “What are you making?” she asked. “A probe,” I answered. Hamamoto’s father’s story about measuring the atmosphere had given me a hint, and I was in the planning stages for an experiment to send a probe into The Sea’s interior. This required constructing a sturdy device.

  While I worked, I told her about what had happened in the pool. My mother listened in silence. She never looked flustered the way the teacher had, or worried. She just watched me, her eyes slightly bleary, like they always were. I thought my mother might scold me. When I was younger and had not yet made up my mind to be a great adult, she had often scolded me, like other ordinary children.