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I wasn’t brought here by chance
.
This is what the image told her.
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I’m here because I’m supposed to be
.
Up until now
, she thought,
I believed I was dragged into this 1Q84 world not by
my own will. Something had intentionally engaged the switch so the train I was on
was diverted from the main line and entered this strange new world. Suddenly I
realized I was here—a world of two moons, haunted by Little People. Where there is
an entrance, but no exit
.
Leader had explained it this way just before he died.
The train is the story that
Tengo wrote, and I was trapped inside that tale. Which explains exactly why I am
here now—entirely passive, a confused, clueless bit player wandering in a thick fog
.
But that’s not the whole picture
, Aomame told herself.
That’s not the whole
picture at all
.
I am not just some passive being mixed up in this because someone else willed it.
That might be partly true. But at the same time I chose to be here
.
I chose to be here
of my own free will
. She was sure of this.
And there’s a clear reason I’m here. One reason alone: so I can meet Tengo again.
If you look at it the other way around, that’s the only reason why this world is inside
of me. Maybe it’s a paradox, like an image reflected to infinity in a pair of facing
mirrors. I am a part of this world, and this world is a part of me
.
There was no way for Aomame to know what sort of plot Tengo’s new story
contained. Most likely there were two moons in that world, and it was frequented by
Little People. That was about as far as she could speculate.
This might be Tengo’s
story
, she thought,
but
it’s my story, too. This much she understood.
She realized this when she got to the scene where the young girl, the protagonist,
was working to create an air chrysalis every night in the shed with the Little People.
As she read through this detailed, clear description, she felt something warm and oozy
in her abdomen, a sort of melting warmth with a strange depth. Though tiny, there
was an intense heat source there. What that heat source was, and what it meant, was
obvious to her—she didn’t need to think about it. The
little one
. It was emitting heat
in response to the scene in which the protagonist and the Little People together
weaved the air chrysalis.
Aomame put the book on the table next to her, unbuttoned her pajama top, and
rested a hand on her belly. She could feel the heat being given off, almost like a dim
orange light was there inside her. She switched off the reading lamp, and in the
darkened bedroom stared hard at that spot, a luminescence almost too faint to see. But
the light was definitely there—no mistake about it.
I am not alone. We are connected
through this, by experiencing the same story simultaneously
.
And if that story is mine as well as Tengo’s, then
I
should be able to write the story
line too. I should be able to comment on what’s there, maybe even rewrite part of it. I
have to be able to. Most of all, I should be able to decide how it’s going to turn out.
Right?
She considered the possibility.
Okay, but how do I do it?
Aomame didn’t know, though she knew it had to be possible. At this point it was a
mere theory. In the silent darkness she pursed her lips and contemplated. This was
critical, and she had to put her mind to it.
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The two of us are a team. Like Tengo and Eriko Fukada made up a brilliant team
when they created
Air Chrysalis,
Tengo and I are a team for this new story. Our
wills—or maybe some undercurrent of our wills—are becoming one, creating this
complex story and propelling it forward. This process probably takes place on some
deep, invisible level. Even if we aren’t physically together, we are connected, as one.
We create the story, and at the same time the story is what sets us in motion. Right?
But I have a question. A very important question
.
In this story that the two of us are writing, what could be the significance of this
little one?
What sort of role will it play?
Inside my womb is a subtle yet tangible heat that is emitting a faint orange light,
exactly like an air chrysalis. Is my womb playing the role of an air chrysalis? Am I
the
maza,
and the
little one
my
dohta?
Is the Little People’s will involved in all this—
in my being pregnant with Tengo’s child, although we didn’t have sex? Have they
cleverly usurped my womb to use as an air chrysalis? Using me as a device to extract
another new
dohta
?
No. That’s not what’s going on
. She was positive about it.
That’s not possible
.
The Little People have lost their power. Leader said so. The popularity of the novel
Air Chrysalis
essentially blocked what they normally do. So they must not know about
this pregnancy. But who—or what power—made this pregnancy possible? And why?
Aomame had no idea.
What she did know was that this
little one
was something she and Tengo had
formed. That it was a precious, priceless life. She placed her hand on her abdomen
again, pressing gently against the outline of that faint orange glow. She let the warmth
she felt there slowly permeate her whole body.
I’ve got to protect this
little one,
at all
costs
, she told herself.
Nobody is ever going to take it away from me, or harm it. The
two of us have to keep it safe
. In the darkness, she made up her mind.
She went into the bedroom, took off her robe, and got into bed. She lay faceup, and
once more touched her abdomen and felt the warmth there. Her feeling of unease was
gone. She knew what had to be done.
I have to be stronger
, she told herself.
My mind
and body have to be one
. Finally sleep came, silently, like smoke, and wrapped her in
its embrace. Two moons were still floating in the sky, side by side.
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