Two thousand years ago, a group of early Christians assembled at a cliff face overlooking the Mediterranean Sea and dug a giant cave into its walls. It was the site they had chosen to face the end.
A series of narrow gorges snaked off from the top of the cliffs, creating a panoramic vista of conical and pointed rock faces, a topography striving for the sky. Odd pockets of weeds growing through narrow crevices in the stone walls provided occasional accents of green across the otherwise dull and gray landscape.
The devout used ropes to suspend themselves over the cliff edge and dug away at the rock face until they had a cave large enough to accommodate all that had assembled. Once the digging work was completed, they began decorating the interior of the cave. Using chisel-like tools, they carved away at the inside walls, transforming the flat surfaces into an explosion of flowers.
Their work on the interior finally completed, the people gathered together in the cave and prayed as one to the barren land. Then they sat, piously waiting for the end, full of faith in the divine prophecy they had received.
Their vigil continued for days. Each morning, when the sun rose from the horizon below, the devout continued to offer their prayers. Each night, the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks below proclaimed the continued existence of the world around them.
To the devout massed, the idea of the end of the world was pregnant with exquisite beauty. They had resolved to stand and face whatever was coming, to be resolute and pious so that they might welcome the coming of a better world. The end of the world signified an end to their suffering, to the misery they faced in their everyday lives. It promised a new beginning.
Yet, no matter how long they waited, the sun continued to rise and the waves continued to sound. Eventually the people left the cave in a mixture of despair and relief. The vast cave was left empty, its intricate carvings and painted flowers abandoned.
The cave related to the modern world the state of mind of these believers as they waited for the end of the world, an eloquent testimony to their creed that the world they anticipated was a place alive with color and flowers.
Saeko’s father had taken her to visit this storied Mediterranean cave when she was young. She remembered feeling an intense disappointment when she finally saw the place. It had been much smaller than the cave of her imagination. The wonderful images of flowers she had expected to see looked like nothing more than clumsy red scrawlings.
Now, looking out of the window of the bullet train, Saeko found herself remembering the story of those people and their cave. Something about the countryside quietly streaming past outside the window was telling her something. She wasn’t sure how exactly, but something was out of place, and the feeling sparked the memory of this tale of the end of the world.
The shape of Mount Fuji loomed briefly in the distance before vanishing again behind the buildings in the foreground. The famous conical contours of the mountain had been clearly visible in the bright sky, devoid of snow despite the lateness of the season. The browned peak had seemed to shudder as the train sped its way between Tanzawa and Hakone.
When Saeko thought about the end of the world it was usually in the context of a conversation with a friend, usually just a fun premise to justify posing silly questions: “Who would you spend the last day with?” “What would you eat?” “What would you do on the last day of the world?”
Saeko sat back and let her thoughts roam. She thought of death. What was death? The end of consciousness, the end of feeling … Nothingness. She noted that the idea of nothingness precluded fear. She continued to contemplate the topic until the train began to pull into Atami. Saeko was scheduled to meet the physicist who was to become the new “advisor” for the program. They had arranged to meet at the station, after which Saeko would show him to the gardens.
After exiting from the station gates she called Hashiba to let him know that she had arrived.
He appeared to have regained some of the natural energy and intimacy he had shown her before. “Great timing. I just got a call from the physicist — his name’s Naoki Isogai. He just arrived at Atami, so you probably came on the same train. Could you meet him and come together in a taxi?”
Saeko had never met Isogai before. “How will I know him?”
“Hang on. I’ll give you his cell number.”
Saeko went to take a notepad from her rucksack but struggled to hold the phone while getting the pen. “I’ll memorize the number, go ahead,” she told him.
“Sure?” Hashiba sounded doubtful.
“I’m actually pretty good with numbers, you know.”
Hashiba gave her the eleven-digit number and Saeko repeated it out loud. At that moment she caught sight of a man emerging from the station. He seemed to be looking for a taxi but stopped short and started looking around as if searching for someone. He ended up focusing on Saeko, his look full of intent.
Saeko felt herself grow tense — why was he staring so hard? She met the man’s gaze but remembered that Hashiba was still on the line. “How are things going anyway?” she asked.
She was finding it hard to focus on anything but the man staring at her. He had a striking sort of face. His build was average, but Saeko could tell that he worked out and could picture a powerful and sleek body under his leather jacket. There was something about him that seemed very un-Japanese; he had deep-set eyes and a high nose, his skin was a dark tan. Interestingly, he had a goatee but a completely shaved head. It was hard to guess his age, but Saeko placed him in his early thirties. Now she saw that he had begun walking towards her, in strong rhythmical strides. He stopped so suddenly before her that Saeko took a step back.
The man spoke without smiling and apparently not caring that she was on the phone. “That number you just said is my phone number.”
Saeko felt her throat tighten but nodded quickly in his direction, finally understanding. “It looks like he’s just found me,” she managed. “We’ll come directly to the park.” She hung up and put her phone back. The man stood staring as she did so.
“Who are you?” he demanded.
Saeko’s voice trembled slightly as she attempted to explain. “Dr. Isogai? My name is Saeko, I work with Hashiba.”
The man’s features softened almost immediately. “Oh, right, of course!” He smiled at her. “Thanks for coming to meet me.”
Saeko was relieved but couldn’t help wondering why he’d reacted so testily to someone repeating his cell number. They walked to the taxi line together. Saeko opened the door to the first waiting cab and gestured for Isogai to get in first. He stood back and shook his head, gesturing for her to go first. Saeko remembered that he had spent time living in America; he seemed to have picked up the custom of “ladies first.” She relented and shuffled into the rear of the cab, giving the driver the name of their destination. They were going to meet up with Hashiba and the rest of the crew outside the front gate of the herbal gardens.
Hashiba walked up the slope of the gardens with Kagayama, looking for places to mark for filming. The sun had been beating down at the entrance — so warm it was hard to believe it was winter — but the western slope was shaded, causing an abrupt drop in temperature.
Hashiba wanted to establish a detailed plan for the shooting tomorrow, to get all the scenes straight in his head. He hoped to get through it quickly as he only had today to finalize the scripts; as the show’s director it was always a race against the clock. Saeko and Isogai were already in a taxi on their way over. The TV announcer, Shoko Akagi, was scheduled to arrive the next morning. If possible, Hashiba wanted Isogai to see the area before she arrived. The scientist could provide the gist of his commentary so the basic flow of dialogue could be mapped out.