As Far as the East is From the West (Servant of Light Book 2)

by Jeremy Finn

  “Maybe around eight in the morning,” Hiro replied. “I can meet you here then, if that’s not too early for you.”

  “No, that’s fine,” Saigo agreed and rose to his feet. “I want to make the next leg of my journey tomorrow so an early start would be best. Let’s take the time tonight to think about it and come up with some ideas for working out this puzzle. Shall we walk back to the village together?”

  “Oh, thank you but I don’t live in the village,” Hiro explained. “I have a little place over beyond the bend of the bay that way. Since my wife passed away ten years ago, I have lived the life of a wandering hermit, for the most part. I would invite you to stay, but I’m afraid I really have no place for you to sleep and it would be quite uncomfortable.”

  “Oh no problem,” Saigo said. “I did not get a chance to browse around the village when I passed through and I would still like to look around a bit anyways. I will probably pack tomorrow morning and leave for the next leg of my journey after we put this tori to the test – that is, assuming we don’t wind up in the feudal era or something,” he joked.

  “Ok then,” Hiro agreed. “I’ll meet you here at eight. Have a good evening.”

  The two men parted and Saigo made his way briskly up the rock face leaning over the crashing waves. He walked quickly through the shadowy bamboo stands and emerged from the path onto the village street just as lamps were starting to flicker on in the houses and restaurants lining the thoroughfare. To his dismay, most of the shops apparently closed at sunset and there was little to see at this hour. So, he chose a cozy ryokan and decided to eat his dinner with the family that owned the tiny inn, as is customary in such places.

  He entered his small room and an old woman in a kimono shuffled in to prepare a bowl of matcha tea with a small plate of sweets shaped like leaves and flowers. It was refreshing and Saigo decided to visit the sauna before dinner. The ryokan was small and old, but not in a degenerative way. All the materials of the simple structure were well-preserved and every cranny was impeccably clean. Like many successful ryokan, this one was built nearby a natural hot mineral spring, which fed the small bath house attached to the inn. He passed through the hanging curtain split in the middle and doffed his robe. The water was murky and hot so he had to slip slowly into the tub. It was so hot, in fact, that he could not remain immersed for more than about ten minutes. It was enough to relax and invigorate him, though, and he followed the dip with a shower from a hose running out of the wall while he sat on a tiny wooden stool before a mirror.

  When he returned to his room, the same old woman pulled the door open a crack to inform him dinner was ready in the dining area. He slipped on his light yukata robe and slippers and followed her to a room about twice the size of his bedroom where the family and two other guests were gathered for the evening meal. It was simple but delicious. He enjoyed a bowl of steaming rice mixed with a powder of salt, sesame seeds and other spices alongside a bowl of tangy fish stew drawn from a large kettle in the center of the table sitting above a portable burner. The middle aged woman who apparently ran the ryokan explained the fish was fresh from the river and caught just hours before. There were multiple side dishes as well. Most were vegetables or some sort or sea products soaked in soy sauce or pickled in a sweetish sauce. As the group began to fill their bellies and the eating slowed, conversation picked up. Saigo answered a few questions about his adventurous hike across the country and listened intently to the stories of the others. One man was a businessman traveling to meet certain customer bases around the region. Another worked for a company interested in building a golf course near the village. He was here to scout out potential sites and look into the viability of such a project here. As talk began to wind down, Saigo felt compelled to ask about the tori. Since this family had roots in this area tied to the management of the ryokan, maybe they could offer some insight into the mystery.

  “You know I was down walking by the beach today,” he began, “and I saw that old tori out in the bay.” He noticed an exchanged look between the old woman and the middle aged woman who he now knew was her daughter, but continued his remark. “It was quite beautiful out there standing over the water as the sun set. I heard there is some legend associated with it – something about how passing through can change things.” The old woman put her chopsticks down and bore a grave look on her wrinkled face. “Do you know anything about that? I am just curious.”

  The middle aged woman inhaled slowly and seemed somewhat reluctant when she replied, “Yes, there are the tales. Some do believe it can change things. But most people in this town don’t pay much attention to those stories anymore. There was even some talk of having the thing torn down some years ago. Many feel it is more of an eyesore than a valuable cultural relic.”

  “What do you think about it?” Saigo asked as she began clearing the dishes.

  Before the woman could answer, though, her mother broke in, “It is not something to trifle with,” she warned.

  “Mom, don’t get worked up about it,” her daughter warned.

  “No,” she protested, “this man should know about it. He has taken an interest and he should at least know.”

  “Know what?” Saigo asked with deep curiosity.

  “Mom thinks something happened to her there when she was a child,” the woman explained. “But she can’t specifically say what or really remember much.”

  “But I can’t shake the feeling something did happen. I heard the stories when I was young, and I wanted to see for myself,” the mother explained.

  “So you passed through the gate?” Saigo asked. “What happened?”

  “Nothing, apparently,” she answered. “I just walked through and nothing happened. So since then I have always believed it was just some stupid story created by the monks to bring popularity and attention to their floundering temple. But as I grew older, I began to sense something was wrong with my life. Something was missing or added or I don’t know what. I just have this feeling deep inside that things were different before.”

  “Now come on mom, it’s just a trick of you mind. We talked about this before,” the daughter criticized and cast an angry look at Saigo. He got the message and decided it would be best to drop the topic.

  “Well, thank you so much for the meal,” he said as he rose from his cushion on the floor. “I will be retiring for the evening.

  “Good night,” the daughter called from the kitchen, and the grandmother nodded to him, though her mind was still wrestling with her memories of the tori in the sea.

  When he slid the paper door open to his room, the thick blankets were already spread on the floor and a rectangular paper lantern lit the dark room with a soft orange glow. He was tired and slipped immediately into the futon. Thoughts about the tori raced through his head and he wondered if he should reconsider his plans for the morning, but sleep overtook him quickly and he awoke reenergized and with a fresh desire to test the mystery that beckoned from the sea.

  After a quick breakfast of rice and seaweed soup with a small piece of broiled fish, Saigo bid his farewell and slung his pack over his back on his way out the door. It looked like it was going to be another beautiful day and he was already looking forward to the next leg of his hike. First, though, he would satisfy his curiosity and meet the old hermit down on the beach. The rising sun flooded the village main street and people scampered about tending to chores and moving purposefully to morning engagements. He stopped at a little school supplies shop and purchased a notebook and an instant camera – the kind that develops pictures on the spot. He found the trailhead easily and trotted joyfully through the familiar landscape and down the rocky precipice. At first, he thought the old man might have forgotten their appointment or, worse, made him the brunt of a personal practical joke, but he found him as he approached the spot where they met the day before. He was hunched over a little fire beside a pile of rocks cooking several fish the size of his hand on a bamboo skewer.

  “Good morning!” he gree
ted cheerfully with a smile on his tanned face as Saigo approached.

  “Good morning to you too,” he returned.

  “I trust you found a decent ryokan and had a good night’s sleep?”

  “Absolutely,” Saigo confirmed. “In fact, I had an interesting conversation with an old woman who said she once passed through the tori we are about to test.”

  Hiro nodded thoughtfully, “There are still a few around who believe or at least hold some superstition about the tori. So did you give it any thought? Come up with any ideas?”

  “Actually, I did this morning while I was lying in bed listening to the birds outside my window,” Saigo explained as he pulled the notepad and camera from his pack. “I was thinking I could take a few pictures of the surrounding area and jot down some notes about this morning’s news, our names, what we had for breakfast – you know, all kinds of factual stuff that would give us a hint that something indeed happened if the pictures or notes did not match reality after we passed through.”

  “Hmm,” Hiro pondered. “Sounds like a good idea. I have a plan as well and I think we can combine both of ours to make this a foolproof test.”

  “Oh?” Saigo said and tilted his head in interest. “What is your idea?”

  “Well,” Hiro began as he pulled a coiled strand of rope out of his pants cargo pocket, “since passing through the tori supposedly causes the change and immerses you in a new world, I thought we could keep an umbilical cord back to this world. One of us will go through holding an end of the rope and the other will stay behind with the other end. It seems to me the connection would prevent the change or at least make it apparent to us.”

  Saigo tried to puzzle out the logic in his head, but realized they were dealing with an illogical problem in the first place. It did seem like a good idea, and combined with his plan, it would make for a suitable experiment. “I’ll volunteer to be the one to pass through,” he offered. “After all, it was my idea in the first place.”

  Initially, Hiro looked as if he might protest, but in the end he offered no objection. He just nodded his head thoughtfully and began to uncoil the coarse rope. After they took some time to jot down notes and take a few pictures, Saigo put them in his shirt pocket and both men rolled up their pants legs. Saigo stepped into the little waves with the rope in hand and Hiro followed about twenty paces behind him. The water was just cool enough to feel refreshing on the skin as the morning temperature grew steadily with the rising sun. It was crystal clear and Saigo watched as his feet caused clouds of sand to erupt violently with each step. Tiny fish darted out of his path as the water began to rise near his knees and the occasional swell began to soak the folds of his pants.

  “Just in case,” Hiro called as they sloshed toward the tori, “what do you want me to do if you disappear?” His tone had a ring of humor in it, but the thought struck Saigo now that he was actually about to act on their plan. Before, it had all seemed somewhat silly and almost even embarrassing that two grown men were carrying on this way, but now he actually had to suppress a pang of fear that threatened to rise up in him. What if something terrible did happen? What if he didn’t even know the difference?

  “Just give the rope a sharp tug,” Saigo replied and tied it around his waist. “You never know, though, I might like it better over there. Or, in the world I go to, the rope might be tied to a monster or an anchor pulling me into the sea. Then again, a second me from some other time strand might come out and you would never know it wasn't the same me that entered”

  Hiro smiled, but Saigo thought it seemed a bit forced. Maybe he was having second thoughts too. "Now you are just plain confusing me," he said. Saigo came to the tori and stopped in front of it while Hiro caught up and stood beside him. “While, here it goes,” he said. “Would you mind singing the national anthem or something? I know it sounds silly, but maybe that’s one more way we can track any kind of change.”

  “Sure,” Hiro said with a shrug, “but you won’t like what you hear.”

  Saigo clapped him on the shoulder and turned to the tori. The old man began singing and Saigo decided he was certainly right about his vocal abilities. He walked at a steady pace and looked out the corner of his eyes as he passed through the two tall posts rising on either side of him. He winced as he almost expected to feel a shock in his body or some kind of resistance as he passed through the gate, but there was nothing – just the steady light breeze blowing inland and the tiny wave tops lapping at his trousers. He continued a few more paces and then turned to face Hiro. The man was there where he left him, watching intently and holding the other end of the rope in his hands. Saigo continued walking backwards a few more paces and then stopped.

  “Hiro, is that you?” he called and the man stopped singing.

  “Yes it is, Saigo,” he replied, perhaps a little disappointed.

  “Well, at first look I don’t think anything has happened. This certainly isn’t some other kind of world. As for a different time stream, let’s have a look at the notes and picture.” He pulled out the folded papers from his shirt pocket and opened them. He held the pictures of the surrounding area up in front of his face and placed them alongside the real landscape. Same hills, same rugged rock face further down the shore, same trees, rocks, everything. “Doesn’t look like anything has changed physically,” he hollered to Hiro. Then he read a few of the notes. “What did you have for breakfast this morning?”

  “Snapper and rice porridge,” Hiro called back.

  “That checks out,” Saigo confirmed. “What about the ball game last night? Who won?”

  “Why the underdogs, Kyoto,” Hiro answered. “In fact, it was their first win so far this season.”

  “Right again,” Saigo said. He asked a few more about current events and they all checked out down to every detail. “I guess that settles it. Seems like we are still in the same time stream as well.”

  “Apparently,” Hiro agreed, “but what if this rope is the only thing holding it together? What if when you let go you will be plunged into the other world?”

  Saigo thought about it for a moment. Now that everything seemed the same, he almost wanted to just dismiss the concern and drop the failed experiment. Nevertheless, it wouldn’t hurt to follow through to the end. “How about if I walk back to you around the outside of the tori? Then I can drop the rope while I am standing next to you on your side of the gate.”

  “Good idea,” Hiro agreed.

  Saigo trudged through the water and around one of the poles until he stood beside Hiro. He loosed the rope from around his waist and then grabbed hold of Hiro’s arm before letting go. The rope ran through the gate and back around the outside. “I guess there is still the chance this may cause some kind of time rift or paradox that will destroy the universe,” he chuckled.

  “If it does, we will never know anyways,” Hiro sighed.

  Saigo dropped his end of the rope into the water and both men watched it intently. It landed on the water and floated idly. They looked up at each other and then at their surroundings. Hiro cast his end down as well and again nothing happened.

  “You know,” Saigo admitted, “I feel pretty stupid right now.”

  “Anyways,” Hiro offered, “at least you have something else interesting to include in your book.”

  “Maybe,” Saigo said. “I’m not so sure I want people to think I actually believed all that legend nonsense.”

  Hiro laughed and threw his arm over Saigo’s shoulder. “Ah don’t worry about it old friend. But now we better start heading back. You know how upset my wife gets when we show up late for dinner.”

  Insight

  I guess the central idea for this story just came as I was reading a book of short stories about time travel and thought it would be a good topic for one of my own. So many authors have written about it so it seemed like a good challenge to write about time travel in a way that was at least a little bit unique. I also wanted to just write about Japan in the spring. I read Alan Booth’s books on
hiking across Japan and I have visited several times myself. When I wrote this story, it was also the cherry blossom time in Washington DC, where I lived. Finally, on one of my trips to Japan, I met a wandering poet type who was much like Hiro in the story. He was a very interesting man and made an impact on me even though I only spoke to him for less than fifteen minutes. All these influences and experiences came together to make a good setting and plot for a short little story about time travel.

  THE SCREAMING FIELDS

  Mark strode confidently down the sun-dappled walkway in his freshly starched uniform. It was a beautiful spring morning and he filled his lungs with the fragrant air hovering among the thick blanket of trees in the park. He had grown grudgingly accepting of the cold concrete and metal world of the nation’s capital where he worked in the sprawling headquarters of his country's department of defense for years. This new job removed him only a few miles from that world, but it seemed a completely different place - an island of nature preserved amidst the urban metropolis.

  This new assignment brought not only a welcome change of environment, but a great deal of honor as well. The military hand-chose only a few to be members of the nation’s elite honor guard. He certainly felt at the top of his career, yet something continued to bother him in the back of his thoughts. Mark knew what they did here - why it was such a revered or even feared place. He knew as every citizen does that, despite the natural beauty of the place, horror rested beneath the grounds.

  “Sergeant Maro!” a voice called from the grassy bluff to his right.

  “Oh, good morning, sir,” Mark replied with a crisp salute. “You must be Major Clemente.”