FIRST TIME IN SIXTEEN MONTHS”
Occasionally, I’d stumble across people secretly trying to collect information about me. After using the company toilet, I would half-open the door to the next cubicle, only to discover a knot of reporters crammed into it, tape recorders and cameras dangling from their shoulders. Or on my way home, I’d rummage about in the bushes with the tip of my umbrella, only for a female TV announcer holding a microphone to dash out and run away shrieking.
Once, while watching television in my apartment, I suddenly leapt up and slid open the door of my built-in wardrobe. A huddle of four or five journalists (some female) tumbled out of the wardrobe onto the floor. Another time, I pushed up a ceiling panel with a broom handle. A photographer hiding in the attic, in his frantic effort to escape, put his foot through the ceiling and fell to the ground. I even pulled up my
Of course, none of this was ever reported in the news. The media only ever covered my dull, everyday affairs. These were blown up into major headliners, even surpassing politics, world events, the economy and other more important topics. For example:
“TM BUYS A TAILORED SUIT IN MONTHLY INSTALMENTS!”
“ANOTHER DATE FOR TSUTOMU MORISHITA”
“REVEALED! TSUTOMU’S WEEKLY DIET!”
“WHO DOES MORISHITA REALLY WANT? AKIKO MIKAWA – OR SOMEONE ELSE?!”
“TM SLAMS CO-WORKER FUJITA (25) OVER PAPERWORK ERROR”
“SHOCK! MOZZA’S SEX LIFE!”
“TSUTOMU MORISHITA: PAY DAY TODAY”
“WHAT WILL TSUTOMU DO WITH THIS MONTH’S PAY?”
“MORISHITA BUYS ANOTHER PAIR OF SOCKS (BLUE-GREY, 350 YEN)”
In the end, there were even expert analysts who knew everything that could be known about me. I was quite amazed.
One day, I found my photograph on the front of a weekly magazine published by a newspaper company. A colour photograph. Of course, I had no idea when it was taken. It showed me on my way to work among a group of office workers. It was quite a good picture, actually, if I say so myself.
Writing articles about me was one thing. But if they wanted to use me as a model on their cover, I would expect the newspaper company to thank me at the very least. I waited three days, four days after the magazine had been published, but still heard nothing. Finally, I’d had enough. On my way back from a client one day, I paid them a visit.
Normally, I only had to walk down the street for everyone to be turning and gawking at me. But as soon as I entered the newspaper company building, I was treated with total indifference by receptionists and staff alike. It was almost as if they’d never heard of me. I regretted going there at all, as I waited in the reception lounge. Then a man with a sour face appeared and identified himself as the magazine’s Assistant Chief Editor.
“Listen, Mr Morishita. We’d prefer it if you didn’t come here, you understand.”
“I thought so. Because I’m supposed to be a nobody who has no connection with the media?”
“You’re not talented or topical. You’re not even famous. So you have no business coming here.”
“But I am, aren’t I? I am famous now!”
“You’re merely a nobody whose life was reported in the media. You were supposed to remain anonymous, even when people recognized you. We thought you’d understand that well enough.”
“So why did a nobody like me have to be reported on the news?”
The Assistant Chief Editor sighed wearily. “How should I know?! I suppose someone decided you were newsworthy.”
“Someone? You mean someone in the media? What idiot had that idea?”
“Idiot, you say? As if there’s just one person at the bottom of it? In that case, why are all the media companies falling over each other to follow you? The media don’t need to be told. They’ll only follow someone if they think he’s got news value.”
“News value? In the daily life of a nobody?”
“All right then. You tell me. What news items would you consider important?”
“Well… Something about the weather forecast being wrong… A war going on somewhere… A ten-minute power failure… An aeroplane crashes, killing a thousand… The price of apples goes up… Someone’s bitten by a dog… A dog is caught shoplifting in a supermarket… The US President is caught shoplifting… Man lands on Mars… An actress gets divorced… The war to end all wars is about to start… A company profits from pollution… Another newspaper company makes a profit…”
The Assistant Chief Editor watched me vacantly as I continued. But now he shook his head with a look of pity. “So those are the things you regard as big news, are they?”
“Aren’t they?” I replied in some confusion.
He waved his hand with an air of irritation. “No, no, no, no, no. Of course, they could be
“That doesn’t bother me.”
“I see.” He slapped his thigh. “Actually, it doesn’t bother us either.”
I hurried back to the office. From my desk, I immediately phoned through to Admin.
“Akiko,” I said loudly. “Will you go to a hotel with me tonight?”
I could hear Akiko catching her breath at the other end of the line.
For a moment, the whole room fell silent. My colleagues and the Chief Clerk gawped at me in amazement.
Eventually she replied. “Yes. Of course,” she sobbed.
And so that night, Akiko and I stayed in a hotel. It was the shabbiest, seediest hotel in a street full of tasteless neon signs.
As I’d expected, there was no mention of it in the newspapers. Nor was it reported on the TV news. From that day on, news about me vanished from the media. In my place came a middle-aged office worker, the type that can be found just about everywhere. Thin, short, two children, lives on a suburban estate, a clerk in a shipbuilding company.
I’d once again become a nobody – this time for real.
Some time later, I asked Akiko out again as a test. Would she like to have coffee with me after work? Of course, she refused. But I was satisfied – now I knew what sort of person she was.
A month later, nobody could remember my face. But even then, people would occasionally stop and give me curious looks when they saw me. On my way home one day, two girls were sitting opposite me on the train. One of them gave me that look and started whispering to the other.
“Hey! Haven’t I seen him somewhere before?” she said, nudging her friend with her elbow. “What was it he did?”
The other girl looked at me with a bored expression. After a moment, she answered in a tone of utter boredom: “Oh, him. Yeah. He was just a nobody.”
Don’t Laugh
I had a call from Saita, a bachelor friend of mine, an electric-appliances repair specialist with four technical patents to his name.
“Would you mind coming over?” he said in a tremulous little voice like a mosquito’s hum.
“Why? Is something wrong? Has something happened?” I asked.
“Well… You know,” he mumbled, then said nothing for a moment. He seemed to be looking for the right
