If Cats Disappeared From the World Read online

  “The apple?”

  “Right. See, the two of them were living in the Garden of Eden, which was a kind of paradise where they could do anything they wanted, eat anything they wanted. But that’s not all, there was no such thing as aging or death. There was just one thing they weren’t allowed to do—to eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. That’s where the apple comes in . . . the forbidden fruit.”

  “I see.”

  “And so I suggested that they eat the apple, and they did!”

  “No! Wow, you really are evil.”

  “Now, now, hold your applause. So the two of them were driven out of paradise. That meant that humans would be fated to experience aging and death, and so began a long history of conflict and struggle.”

  “Man, you really are the Devil.”

  “I appreciate your admiration, but it wasn’t that much of a big deal. So somewhere along the way God sent his own son, Jesus Christ, down to earth, but not even that could convince human beings to take a cold hard look at themselves. Then to top it off, they go and kill this Jesus dude.”

  “Oh, yeah, I’ve heard about that part.”

  “Then after that, human beings just became more and more selfish. They started to make all sorts of newfangled things—you know, all those little doodads you’re not sure you really need, making more and more, going on and on . . .”

  “I’m beginning to see.”

  “So I made another suggestion, you know, to God. So I say to him, look, how about I go down to earth and help those humans decide what it is they really need and what they don’t need. And then, I made a promise to God. I said, whenever those humans decide to get rid of something, as a reward, I’ll extend their life for one day. I was given the power to do that. So after that, I did a lot of searching. You know, for people I could do business with. And so that’s where you find me—I’ve made deals with all kinds of people. As a matter of fact, you’re number 108.”

  “Number 108?”

  “That’s right! Not that many, eh? Only 108 people in the whole world. You’re pretty lucky, really. Simply by making one thing disappear from the world, you can extend your life by one day. Isn’t that great?!”

  It had come out of nowhere, and was such a ridiculous offer. He sounded just like the shopping channel on cable TV, desperate to sell you something. How can you extend your life by making such a simple swap? But on the other hand, setting aside for a moment the question of whether I actually believed it or not, I wasn’t exactly in a position to refuse. Either way, I was going to die. I had no choice.

  So, to recap: by making something disappear from the world, I could live for one more day. Let’s see now, that would be thirty items a month, 365 per year.

  It would be that simple. The world is basically drowning in crap—all those small, silly, useless things like the parsley they put on an omelet, or the promotional packs of tissues they give out in front of the train station. Or how about those lengthy users’ manuals that come with your new fridge or washing machine. Or watermelon seeds. When you think about it, all kinds of unnecessary things spring to mind. When you weigh it up, there must be at least one or two million things the world could do without.

  If I was supposed to live to seventy, that would mean I have forty more years left on the clock. So if I get rid of 14,600 items, I could make it to seventy after all. And if I kept going, I might even be able to reach a hundred, or even two hundred years old!

  Just like Aloha said, for thousands of years, humankind has done nothing but make useless things. So if something were to disappear no one would notice. In fact, the world would be a simpler place. People will thank me for this!

  And besides, just take a look at what I do for a living: a postman, a letter carrier. Pretty soon, postmen will be extinct. Because the day will come when letters and postcards disappear—they’ve been made redundant. When you think about it, there must be all kinds of things cluttering up the world which are borderline unnecessary. Maybe the entire human race is unnecessary. The world we live in has no meaning at all.

  “OK. Fine. I agree to the exchange. Go ahead and make something disappear. I want to live longer.” I accepted the terms. And once I’d made the decision to give up some of the things in my life, I suddenly felt a lot bolder.

  “Oh, wow, really? Great! Now you’re talking!”

  Aloha seemed bowled over by my decision.

  “Well, you’re the one who came up with . . . Oh, whatever. So what should I erase? Hmmm, let’s see . . . first of all, how about we get rid of these stains on the wall.”

  Aloha just stared blankly at me and said nothing.

  “OK, how about the dust on top of the bookshelves?”

  Again, silence.

  “I know, let’s get rid of that mold growing on the bathroom tiles!”

  “C’mon now, what do you think I am, the maid? Let’s not forget that it’s the Devil you’re working with.”

  “Oh, am I not thinking along the right lines?”

  “What did you expect? I’m the one who gets to decide.”

  “And how do you do that?”

  “How? Well, now that you ask, I suppose it’s just a feeling, or depends on what mood I’m in.”

  “Mood?”

  “Uh huh. So, what’s it gonna be . . .”

  Aloha surveyed the room. I followed his gaze, the whole time silently pleading: don’t touch that figurine, and not those limited-edition trainers . . .

  But obviously, when you think about it, I was being given my life in return for anything he might take. This is exactly what they mean when they talk about making a pact with the Devil—it’s not supposed to be easy. So do I have to choose something really big to make disappear? The sun? Or the moon? The ocean, or the earth itself? Would that be enough for him? Just as I was finally realizing what a big deal this really was, Aloha’s stare settled on the tabletop.

  “What’s this?”

  Aloha grabbed the small packet and shook it. A rattling sound escaped from the box.

  “Those are chocolate biscuits. You know, ‘Mountain Mushrooms.’”

  “Mushrooms?”

  “No, ‘Mountain Mushrooms.’”

  This didn’t seem to make any sense to Aloha, who tilted his head and looked puzzled.

  “OK, then what’s this?”

  Aloha picked up a similar-looking box which was sitting next to the first one and gave it a shake. It made the same rattling sound.

  “They’re ‘Bamboo Shoot Village’ biscuits.”

  “Bamboo shoots?”

  “No, not bamboo shoots, ‘Bamboo Shoot Village.’”

  “That makes no sense.”

  “Sorry. They’re chocolate treats.”

  “Chocolate?”

  “That’s right.”

  I had won the boxes of chocolate in a raffle in the local shopping center a few days earlier (more like compensation for not winning the big prize), and they had sat there on the table ever since. When you think about it, it is kind of a weird concept for a brand of chocolate biscuits. It was no wonder the Devil was confused.

  “Ah, yes. I’ve heard about how much humans love chocolate, but I didn’t realize they’d taken it this far. Why in the shape of mushrooms and bamboo shoots?”

  “Good question. I never thought about it before.”

  “OK . . . Well then. Shall we do the chocolates?”

  “Huh?”

  “We’re deciding what’s going to disappear from the world! Don’t you remember?”

  “Isn’t that kind of a random choice?”

  “Well, it is your first go at this . . .”

  If chocolates disappeared from the world . . .

  How would the world change? I tried to imagine what it might be like.

  Let’s see, chocolate addicts around the world would grieve, cry, and scream, and be overcome with loss. Then their blood-sugar levels would fall, and they would live out the rest of their lives in a state of lethargy.

&
nbsp; In a world without chocolate, would marshmallows and caramel just take its place? Probably not, I don’t think they have the same appeal as chocolate. And besides, people would get right to work on coming up with a new kind of sweet thing to replace chocolate with.

  It just goes to show how insatiable we are when it comes to food.

  The cat sat next to me eating the leftovers with rice that I’d just fed him. In Japanese, there’s a whole other word for the food pets eat. It’s just not the same as human food—we humans are way fussier.

  Human beings put a lot of time and effort into what we eat, finding the right flavors, cooking, even making food into beautiful shapes. And chocolate is part of that too. Some chocolate has nuts in it, or comes in the form of a kind of biscuit or wafer. And in this case we’ve made it look like mushrooms and bamboo shoots. Chocolate seems to have really inspired us humans to come up with new ideas. Maybe that’s what’s driven all human progress: an insatiable desire for new things.

  Something about all this made me feel like I’ve been lucky to have lived after all.

  Now, you would have to be crazy to stand up and declare, “I would gladly give my life for chocolate!” I don’t think there’s anybody in the entire world who’s that stupid. But if giving up chocolate can save my life, then why not? This is a stroke of luck. If that’s all it takes then let’s do it! There must be loads of similar things that I can easily give up to buy me more time.

  Just as I was beginning to feel like my dealings with the Devil might really be offering me a speck of hope, Aloha spoke.

  “So does this stuff taste good?” he said, gazing at the two boxes of chocolate biscuits.

  “Not bad,” I answered.

  “Right . . .”

  “Have you ever tried it?”

  “No.”

  “Here, have one.”

  “No thanks. Human food just doesn’t agree with me. It just all tastes . . . I don’t know . . .”

  “Oh really? Wow.”

  I was about to ask him more about what devils eat, but I decided to keep my curiosity in check. Then Aloha’s curiosity seemed to get the best of him and he grabbed the box of “Mountain Mushrooms,” took a whiff, and stared at the tiny biscuits. He smelled them again. Then he warily brought the biscuits to his lips, and scrunching his eyes shut, shoved one of them into his mouth.

  Silence. A muffled, crunching sound. The room echoed with the sound of Aloha munching on chocolate biscuits.

  “How is it?” I asked gently, but Aloha kept his eyes closed and stayed silent.

  “So . . . how is it? Not good?”

  Aloha seemed speechless, he let out a muffled munching sound.

  “Are you OK?”

  Again the muffled sound.

  “Should I call an ambulance or something?”

  “Mmmmff . . . wow that was so good!”

  “Really?”

  “What do they put in these things? They’re just too good! Are you sure you want to get rid of them? What a waste!”

  “Wait a minute, I thought you said I should make them disappear.”

  “Well, I don’t know about that. If I did, it must have been a mistake. I hadn’t realized how delicious these things would be.”

  “But if I don’t do something I’ll die! Isn’t that what you said?”

  “Mmmm, well, you could put it like that.”

  “OK, then I’ll get rid of them.”

  “. . . Really?”

  Aloha seemed genuinely sad, as he spoke his shoulders sagged.

  “Yes, really.”

  I was beginning to feel sorry for him, but my answer was final.

  “OK. But just one more!” Aloha burst out.

  “What?”

  “Can I have one more? This’ll be the last one, I swear.”

  Aloha looked so pathetic, pleading as he was. His eyes began to well up with tears. It looked like he’d really taken a shine to chocolate. Stealthily, while he thought I wasn’t looking, he grabbed a few more of the chocolates and stuffed them into his mouth, savoring the taste. When he was done he spoke again.

  “Mmmm, yeah, ya know, I just can’t do it.”

  “What?”

  “It would be a crime to get rid of such a delicious thing.”

  “What the . . .”

  How could he change his mind so easily? I mean, it’s my life we’re talking about here!

  I thought I’d come to terms with the fact that I was going to die soon, but now that I’d been offered a way out, I found myself willing to try anything, no matter how ridiculous it seemed. When I do finally die, I’d like to go quietly, peacefully, and with dignity—that’s how I always thought it would happen. But when you’re suddenly faced with death, you find yourself willing to accept a helping hand from anyone, even the Devil, in order to stay alive. It’s a basic human instinct. Dignity and respectability have gone out the window at that point.

  “I’m not entirely OK with that.”

  “What’s this now? Not having a crisis of conscience, are we?”

  “What do you mean, of course I’m having a crisis! It’s my life, and you think you can decide whether I live or die based on what you happen to fancy?”

  “Why not? I mean, I am the Devil.”

  This was too much. I was speechless.

  Aloha went on—

  “Oh, come on! Don’t look so depressed. I’ll think of something else. I’ll come up with something right away, tout de suite!”

  With that, Aloha began to quickly scan the room. You could tell he was trying to make up for having chosen the wrong thing first time around.

  Not that impressive for a devil, I thought. I gave him an icy stare as he continued his work. Then suddenly my mobile phone rang. Someone was calling from the post office where I work. I looked at the clock. It was well past the time I usually begin my shift.

  The voice on the other end of the line belonged to my boss, the postmaster. He sounded annoyed and pointed out that I was late. The day before I’d left early to go to the clinic because I didn’t feel well—actually he sounded kind of worried about me.

  “I’m OK, but I could use some more time off to recover. Could I have the rest of the week off?”

  So I managed to get the week off and then hung up.

  “That’s it . . .”

  “What?”

  “That’s it, right there.”

  Finally I twigged that Aloha was pointing at the phone.

  “Now that looks like something you don’t need.”

  “What? You mean my phone?”

  “Right! Let’s get rid of it.”

  Aloha laughed.

  “So how about it? One day of life in exchange for your phone.”

  If phones disappeared from the world . . .

  What would I gain, and what would I lose?

  Just as my imagination was kicking into overdrive, Aloha came in uncomfortably close.

  “So, what are you going to do?”

  I weighed it up.

  One day of life, or the phone. Mmmm, I wonder . . .

  “Use it or lose it!”

  “J . . . just a minute!”

  “OK, you’ve got twenty seconds . . . Now ten seconds, nine, eight, seven . . .”

  “OK, can you cut it out with the mission control thing? Just go ahead and make it disappear! Get rid of it!”

  It was just hard to be convinced I was doing the right thing, not that I was in a position to be dithering.

  My life or my phone. Obviously, I’ll take life.

  “OK! Here we go!”

  The Devil sounded like he was having a good time, as usual.

  Then I suddenly remembered. I hadn’t got around to calling my father in a while.

  Oh well. That’s just the way it goes, I guess. I hadn’t called my father since Mom died four years ago. And I hadn’t been to see him either. I heard he was still running the little clock-repair shop in the old neighborhood not far from where I live now, but I never thought of visiti
ng. Not even once. But I admit, it is kind of odd not bothering to drop your own father a line, even when you expect to die soon.

  I don’t know if Aloha sensed my ambivalence or what, but he came over with that big grin of his.

  “There, there, I understand. It’s the same with everyone. When it comes to actually erasing things from your life, you start to think. That’s why I always include a special offer.”

  “Offer?”

  “Yup. You have the right to use the thing you’re about to erase one last time.”

  “I see.”

  “So you’re allowed to make one last phone call. You can call anyone you want.”

  That only made me more confused.

  Of course, the first person who came to mind was my father. But when I pictured his face, I couldn’t help remembering what happened four years ago. And now that it’s been like this for so long, what would we have to talk about? I just couldn’t call him.

  So who will it be? Who gets my last phone call?

  Maybe a close friend like K.?

  He was definitely a great guy, and if only we could find the time to hang out again after all these years, I’m sure we would still get along great. But on the other hand, we never had any deep and meaningful, or serious conversations. How would K. react if I suddenly called him to tell him that I’m dying, and that my phone is about to disappear, which is why I thought it would be best to call him now? He’d think I’d lost it. He’d assume it was a joke and the call would be wasted. Not the way to use your last phone call.

  Back to the drawing board.

  So how about a close friend at work like W.?

  He was always easygoing and helped me out a lot. He was a bit older than me, always willing to give me some advice, whether it was work-related or general life advice. He was like my work big brother. But I don’t know . . . it’s the middle of the working day and all . . . I don’t really want to bother him.

  The fact that I’m worrying about bothering W. with no warning gives me the feeling that maybe it’s a different sort of person I should be using my last phone call on earth to get in touch with. Thinking about it, W. and I never really talked about anything important. When I was drunk and having a good time out with the guys I work with (I get drunk on just one beer so I’m a cheap date) I might have thought we were really confiding in each other, but when you really get down to it, we weren’t. We both might have thought that we were talking about the stuff that mattered, but in the end, I don’t think either of us gave away all that much.