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Tap-tap, knock-knock, bang-bang, ‘Who’s there?’
In the upstairs room of a police station, I am a strike-breaker. I wake. I rise. Step by step. I provide men, big men. I provide sticks, big sticks. I crack heads, red heads. I break bones, red bones. In newspaper plants and in film studios, in factories and in universities. For Dai Nippon, for the Emperor –
Fight! Fight! Fight!
For you, for me –
Fight! Fight!
Spring, summer, autumn, winter, morning, afternoon, evening, and night — in all these times — Dust, mud, desert, jungle, field, forest, mountain, valley, river, stream, farm, village, town, city, house, street, shop, factory, hospital, school, government building and railway station — in all these places — Soldier, civilian, man, woman, child and baby, I intimidate them all and I get money and I get more work –
I beat up strikers on their picket lines. I take money and I make money. I burn down the houses of union officials. I take money and I make money. I threaten and I bully, bully, bully –
For the War Machine rolls on, never stopping, never resting, never sleeping, on and on, always rising, always consuming, always devouring. On and on, the War Machine rolls on, across the workers and across their unions, on and on, over their rights and over their jobs, on and on, and from dirty hand into dirtier hands, under the table and into back-pockets, back-pockets into wallets, big fat wallets, money passes, money changes, money grows –
Lesson #4: dog sells stolen dog to another dog.
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IN THE OCCUPIED CITY, on the Ginza, in a concrete building, in a brand-new office, tap-tap, knock-knock, bang-bang, ‘Who’s there?’
‘Thank you for seeing me, Boss,’ I say. ‘I know you are a very busy man so, really, thank you very much.’
‘We’re all busy men,’ laughs the Big Boss. ‘Times may be tough, but there are still lots of opportunities for the man who is prepared to be busy. Still money to be made, always money to be made. Lots of money for the busy man …’
‘That’s the truth, all right.’
‘Yes,’ says the Big Boss, ‘and that’s why none of us likes anything to stand in the way of opportunity. Anything like a police investigation, a city-wide manhunt; obstructing our opportunities, impeding our businesses; asking questions none of us want asked, turning over stones that should be left as they are …’
‘So you’ve heard about the change in the course of the investigation, the Tokumu Kikan theory, then?’
‘They’ve already been here.’
‘Is it a problem?’
‘Don’t worry,’ he says. ‘I’ll deal with the Metro Detectives. But I’d like you to deal with the newspapers …’
‘The newspapers?’
‘Yes,’ he smiles. ‘The newspapers. It’s a promotion. A step up for you. A fresh opportunity …’
‘Thank you very much.’
‘Congratulations,’ laughs the Big Boss, pulling my strings and making me rise and making me bow, making me walk backwards.
‘Thank you,’ I say again, rising and bowing, walking backwards out of the brand-new office. ‘Thank you, Boss.’
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Tap-tap, knock-knock, bang-bang, ‘Who’s there?’
In a brand-new factory, I am its brand-new owner. I wake. I rise. Floor by floor. I take old parts. I turn old parts into new parts. I sell new parts. I make money. For Dai Nippon, for the Emperor –
Fight! Fight! Fight!
For you, for me –
Fight! Fight!
Spring, summer, autumn, winter, morning, afternoon, evening, and night — in all these times — Dust, mud, desert, jungle, field, forest, mountain, valley, river, stream, farm, village, town, city, house, street, shop, factory, hospital, school, government building and railway station — in all these places — Soldier, civilian, man, woman, child and baby, I take from them all and I sell to the rich and I get money –
I take from the Japanese, his goods and his labour. And I sell to the Americans, his people and his military –
For the War Machine rolls on, never stopping, never resting, never sleeping, always rising, always consuming, always devouring. On and on, the War Machine rolls on, over the Korean War and over the Cold War, on and on, across the Vietnam War and across the Gulf War, on and on, from hand into wallet, wallet into banks, big banks / little banks, money passes, money changes, money grows –
Lesson #5: dog buys two dogs.
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IN THE OCCUPIED CITY, in a suburb, down a lane, outside a two-storey house, tap-tap, knock-knock, bang-bang, ‘Who’s there?’
‘Are you Mr XXXX of the XXXX newspaper?’
‘Yes, I am,’ says the puppet in the doorway.
I step back into the shadows. My best puppet steps out of the shadows. My puppet strikes Mr XXXX of the XXXX newspaper.
Mr XXXX of the XXXX newspaper is stunned. He touches his plaster forehead. He stares at his wooden hand. At the blood.
I step back out of the shadows. I pull a string to lift up the chin of Mr XXXX of the XXXX newspaper, to look into his eyes –
His blinking and his bloody eyes –
I say, ‘No more stories.’
¥
Tap-tap, knock-knock, bang-bang, ‘Who’s there?’
In a firm, I am its managing director. I wake. I rise. Floor by floor. I buy. I sell. I make companies. I buy companies. I sell companies. I make money. For Dai Nippon, for the Emperor –
Fight! Fight! Fight!
For you, for me –
Fight! Fight!
Spring, summer, autumn, winter, morning, afternoon, evening, and night — in all these times — Dust, mud, desert, jungle, field, forest, mountain, valley, river, stream, farm, village, town, city, house, street, shop, factory, hospital, school, government building and railway station — in all these places — Soldier, civilian, man, woman, child and baby, I recruit from them all and I pick their brains and I use them –
The graduates of the Tokyo and Kyoto Imperial Universities. The alumni of Ping Fan. I buy blood. I manufacture blood. I process blood. I sell blood. Black Blood and White Genes …
For the War Machine rolls on, never stopping, never resting, never sleeping, always rising, always consuming, always devouring. On and on, the War Machine rolls on, across the little company and across the big company, on and on, over the successful company and over the unsuccessful company, on and on, and from hand into wallet, wallet into bank, bank into loans, cheap, cheap loans at low, low interest, money passes, money changes, money grows –
Lesson #6: dog breeds dogs.
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IN THE OCCUPIED CITY, in Mejiro town, in a wooden building, in an upstairs office, tap-tap, knock-knock, bang-bang, ‘Who’s there?’
‘Boss, boss! At the Kanda Myōjin Shrine, there’s a man there, looks exactly like the drawing of the Teikoku killer, wearing the same clothes and everything. It’s him! It’s got to be him!’
I look up from the flowers. I look up from the spots. I ask, ‘Where is he now, this man? Is he still at the shrine?’
‘Yes,’ says my puppet. ‘He’s still there.’
‘Then let’s go …’
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Tap-tap, knock-knock, bang-bang, ‘Who’s there?’
In the boardroom of a company, I am its president. I wake. I rise. To the top floor. I buy. I sell. I make shares. I buy shares. I sell shares. I make money. For Dai Nippon, for the Emperor –
Fight! Fight! Fight!
For you, for me –
Fight! Fight!
Spring, summer, autumn, winter, morning, afternoon, evening, and night — in all these times — Dust, mud, desert, jungle, field, forest, mountain, valley, river, stream, farm, village, town, city, house, street, shop, factory, hospital, school, government building and railway station — in all these places — Soldier, civilian, man, woman, child and baby, I have sold to them all and they thank me and they admire me –