For the structure of our universe to be maintained, countless dials, more numerous than all of the atoms in the universe, had to be all tuned to precisely the right values. Saeko and Toshiya discussed various examples of matter and life and the conditions that had to be met for them to exist.
“The question is, who fine-tuned all of those dials in the first place?”
“The gods? I suppose that’s the easy answer,” Toshiya offered. The chances of life spontaneously occurring on Earth were so slim as to be almost zero. It seemed in fact reasonable to try to attribute it to a divine creator.
“But most physicists don’t attribute the universe to the work of a supreme being,” Saeko contended.
“Of course not. That would be an admission of defeat. It would mean acknowledging that we have no idea.”
“Okay — here’s another question for you, Toshiya. What do you think would happen if just one of those dials that maintains the structure of the universe got knocked out of tune?”
Toshiya pretended to fall sideways off of the desk where he was sitting. “That would be the end, I guess. If even one of those 10 to the power of 229 dials got misaligned, our universe would fall apart. It would probably disintegrate instantaneously.”
Even the forces that governed the orbits of the planets around the sun were governed by intricate relationships. If even one parameter were off, it could act like a crack in the system that sent the Earth hurling into the Sun, causing it to explode, or careening out of orbit into the pitch black reaches of space. If a parameter pertaining to the micro world went out of whack it could wreak havoc on the relationships between protons, neutrons, and electrons and cause atoms and molecules to disintegrate, instantly turning our bodies into vapor. In either case, existence hinged on maintaining a very delicate balance.
“You know what I think, Toshiya? It might sound funny to you, but I think the universe didn’t just set those dials. I think they were fine-tuned by its interrelationship with the cognitive abilities of genetic life. The same is true of men and women, isn’t it? Slavery aside, there’s no such thing as a relationship where one completely dominates the other. The rules of their relationship evolve naturally, as a function of their interaction. They both have to … meet in the middle …” Saeko trailed off, embarrassed suddenly by her brazenness in opining on such topics when her own marriage had failed.
“The anthropic principle, you mean?”
“I guess I mean the interaction between the observer and the observed.”
“If you put it in those terms, it saves us from having a purely passive role, anyway. It also answers the enigma of why the universe can be described in mathematical terms even though math is a man-made construct.”
“Yes. Exactly. The fact that the universe can be described in mathematical terms is a real mystery.”
Why was it possible to consider the universe in terms of mathematics, which was a sort of language devised by human beings? It was another question Saeko’s father had posed to her.
She found herself starting to really enjoy this conversation with Toshiya. There was so much more to talk about, but their time was up. Kitazawa had returned.
“Welcome back!” Saeko and Toshiya chorused, looking up in unison as Kitazawa entered the office.
“Thanks,” Kitazawa replied. His face was drawn with fatigue, but as he twisted with a grunt to pull a memory stick out of his shoulder bag, an expression of satisfaction and excitement flooded his visage.
“Is that the surprise?” Toshiya asked.
Kitazawa gave them a quick rundown on how he’d obtained the memory stick. “It may be totally worthless. We won’t know until we have a look.” His warning belied the look on his face.
Toshiya accepted the memory stick, plugged it into the computer, and played the footage.
The first thing the monitor showed was the inside of the Rendaiji S Mart store, at around 6:30 p.m. on September 13th of the previous year. The memory stick contained approximately thirty minutes of footage, spanning the transition from dusk to complete darkness outside.
The interior of the store was brightly lit, revealing row upon row of useful everyday products but few customers. Whenever anyone entered the shop someone else seemed to leave, so that the number of customers remained fairly stable at around two or three.
The camera afforded a view of nearly the entire store, with just a few exceptions. The right edge of the screen showed the magazine racks positioned along the glass window contiguous with the entrance. The left edge showed the refrigerated shelving containing boxed lunches and other fresh food. On either side, there was a small area of the store that was out of range of the camera.
After several minutes of footage, a dark shadow passed through the center of the monitor. It was the store manager, his arms full to overflowing with a load of cardboard boxes. He was having a hard time exiting the shop. The automatic door was open, but one of the boxes had somehow gotten caught on its edge and he was having trouble breaking free.
When a young clerk emerged from behind the counter and rushed over to help the manager, Kitazawa paused the video.
“That’s Tomoaki Nishimura,” he told them. Then he fast-forwarded the video for a few moments, pressing the play button again when a young woman entered the shop. She came through the front door and slowly past the register towards the area where toiletries were displayed. Her sleeveless blouse revealed delicate shoulders, and she wore an inexpensive-looking bracelet on the wrist of the hand gripping her wallet.
Kitazawa hit the pause button and shot Saeko a glance.
“That’s Mizuho Takayama?” Saeko asked.
Kitazawa nodded. It was her, all right. Only the profile of her face was visible, but her physical characteristics and clothing were a perfect match.
After finding the item she was looking for and dropping it into her basket, Mizuho Takayama disappeared momentarily from the camera’s field of vision. At that same moment, a young man wearing jeans and a denim shirt entered the store. He positioned himself in front of a rack of ramen products and proceeded to compare two items with an intensity that seemed somewhat excessive for selecting instant noodles.
Kitazawa hit the pause button and shot Saeko a meaningful glance. The image of the young man’s face was small and not terribly distinct, but there was no doubt about it. The young man in jeans was Nobuhisa Igarashi.
Just as Kitazawa had suspected, the three disappearances shared a common location. After checking in at the business hotel, Mizuho Takayama had begun to draw a bath when she realized she’d forgotten to pack something. At the convenience store, Nobuhisa Igarashi and Tomoaki Nishimura had happened to be at the same place at the same time.
When the earthquake struck, Nobuhisa Igarashi was standing in front of the magazine rack, Mizuho Takayama was off to the left, just out of view, and Tomoaki Nishimura was behind the counter, the top of his head under the security camera.
The shock of the earthquake shifted the camera’s view slightly upwards so that less of the store was visible. There was no audio, but it was clear from the video image that the store was shaking. It made Saeko a bit nauseous just watching it. Cups of instant ramen flew into the air and the counter next to the register began to fall inwards towards Nishimura. Nishimura covered his head with both hands and leaned into the counter in a desperate attempt to hold it up.
Over by the magazine rack, Igarashi cowered on the floor, shielding his head with both hands to protect against the toothbrushes, boxes of tissues, and other items that were raining down on his head.