From around the time Saeko began elementary school, Shinichiro explained the principles of natural and social science to her in easy-to-understand terms. Whenever he could, he took her with him on his information-gathering trips, visiting historical relics, temples, and famous sites around the world and teaching her everything he could. Whether or not she understood was not the crucial point. Teaching Saeko became Shinichiro’s greatest pleasure. His company indeed began to publish educational materials for young learners.
By its tenth year, Shinichiro supervised more than fifty employees and had realized his dream of acquiring a dedicated building for his business. He had translated seventeen volumes and penned six original texts of his own.
Thanks to his books and translations, Shinichiro’s personal income had grown to a tremendous level, and he now ranked among the richest men in his business.
The year Shinichiro vanished was his company’s twentieth year in operation. At that point, it employed 150 people and boasted sales of 50 billion yen per year. It had grown into a well-established mid-sized publishing house.
But, the board of executives included, every last employee was well aware that Shinichiro Kuriyama was the person that made the company what it was. When they lost their powerhouse president, the board made a decision to shut the business down before its operations went downhill and they wound up in the red. They put the company’s accounts in order, and the employees all found posts at other publishing houses.
A trusted lawyer managed Shinchiro’s personal assets. The accounts were held at a trust bank, and even Saeko wasn’t sure of their total worth. She certainly had no need to work, but she didn’t write to pay the bills. It satisfied her curiosity and gave her a reason to live and a way to fill her days with something meaningful. There was nothing she loved more than finding a topic that fascinated her, learning it, and expressing it in her own words.
As he listened to Saeko’s account, Hashiba realized he had a vague memory of Shinichiro Kuriyama’s name and face. “I remember now. I had no idea he was your father! I think I was in my second year of high school, near the end of summer vacation. For days on end, the talk shows went on and on about the mysterious disappearance of the golden boy of the publishing world! That was your father, huh? I didn’t realize.” Hashiba spoke excitedly, punching one fist into the opposite palm.
Then suddenly, he seemed to remember where he was and quickly assumed a more somber expression. Shinichiro’s disappearance was a tragic event in Saeko’s life. The fact that her father was famous and that Hashiba had heard of him was no reason for levity.
Hashiba turned his gaze to the bookshelves. Immediately, he noticed a book that Shinichiro Kuriyama had authored. He pulled it off the shelf and read the title: The Landscape of Evolution. It was, in fact, a volume he’d read long ago. As he thumbed through the pages and skimmed the table of contents, Hashiba began to remember its content.
Since the dawn of life on earth, organisms had gone through many landmark events. Bacteria and other prokaryotes had given rise to the more complex and advanced eukaryotes. Photosynthesis had developed, increasing the oxygen content in the atmosphere. Life on earth had experienced an explosion of diversification during the Cambrian Period. The first land animals had emerged from the sea. The dinosaurs had gone extinct. All of it led up to the rise of modern humankind, with our capacity for language and sophisticated cognitive abilities.
Shinichiro highlighted these landmark events of the evolutionary process, describing the prehistoric world so vividly that it almost seemed as if he had traveled through time and witnessed it with his own eyes. The sales copy for the book characterized it as “a scientific primer for young people.”
“I read this when I was in high school,” Hashiba said, his gaze nostalgic.
“He had me read it too, of course. Probably around the same time,” Saeko replied. She couldn’t help feeling somehow pleased that Hashiba had been a fan of her father’s work.
“Wow, it’s so great that you got to read books by your own father. Wait, don’t tell me you were the very first reader?”
“No. That honor was always reserved for his editor. My father never liked me to read the galley proofs — by the time I was in high school, I never saw them.”
“How come?”
“It really bothered him if I said anything negative about the manuscript. For some reason, he really took everything I said to heart. He said that if I expressed so much as the slightest criticism, it made him want to change everything around.”
Despite his cantankerous, despotic attitude toward his subordinates, Shinichiro had been so sensitive to his daughter’s opinions that he would slave away and rewrite his manuscripts. The memory of that childlike, endearing tendency brought a smile to Saeko’s lips.
“Does that mean you never saw the manuscript he was working on when he vanished?”
“Right. I never read it.”
“That’s too bad.”
After her father’s disappearance, Saeko had searched for his final manuscript. Portable word processors were the norm in that day, and Shinichiro had just recently adopted their use. But Saeko could locate no hard copy version of his latest nor a floppy disk containing the file.
“But now and then, he would discuss bits and pieces of what he was working on. He said that discussing his ideas with me helped him organize his thoughts and figure things out. Whenever he got an idea, he always pulled out his day planner and jotted it down …” Saeko trailed off.
“What is it?”
“His day planner! It might give us an idea of what he was working on.” Saeko clapped, remembering the agenda book she had found at the Fujimura residence. It was still in her handbag. Her father had carried his planner at all times, but his handwriting was so terrible that it would require a great deal of time and patience to decode. Nonetheless, if they were looking for specific information, it was quite possible they might be able to find it.
Saeko returned to the bedroom, located the planner in her handbag, and brought it back to the study.
“Mind if I have a look?” Hashiba asked.
“Please.” Saeko handed it to him.
Immediately, Hashiba was surprised by its weight. It was a size larger than the average agenda book and bound with a real leather cover. The year 1994 was stamped in gold lettering on its front, and overall it gave off a stately air.
Peeking inside, Hashiba saw that the pages were covered in writing all the way until late August. After that, the entries were spotty. In addition to using it to keep track of his schedule, it seemed Shinichiro had used it to jot down notes and ideas.
As he leafed through the pages, Hashiba immediately noticed something strange. When the book was open to the middle pages, he felt something unnatural about the way the pages fell open. He closed and reopened the book several times, trying to figure out what it was.
That was when he first noticed the strange ridges under the book’s cover.
“Oh!” he exclaimed and removed the cover. Something slipped out and tumbled to the floor, landing soundlessly on the carpet.
Hashiba retrieved the fallen object and held it up at eye level. It was a 3.5-inch floppy disk. Like the day planner, its label read “1994.” There was no need to double-check: the handwriting clearly matched Shinichiro’s.
For a few moments, Hashiba and Saeko stood staring at the floppy, turning it this way and that without speaking.