Satellite Love

by Genki Ferguson

  “Yoshiko?” I ask.

  “It’s Anna! You really shouldn’t be standing down there. Take this and move out of the way. I don’t want the Tengu to crush you.”

  The girl sends a rope down the stairs, hurling it over the machine to reach me. She tells me she’s trying to move this machine—the Tengu—to the main floor, and wants me to secure it against a banister first, thinking a pulley system will help ease it down. I tie the rope but feel skeptical: there’s no way it could support that weight.

  I let the girl know I’ve fastened the Tengu and move out of its path. A few seconds later, she lets it loose. Sure enough, the banister snaps, and the entire construction comes flying down. It leaves a large crack in the wall, kicking up drywall dust.

  She lets out a yell and runs down the stairs, making sure the Tengu isn’t broken. For the first time, I get a good look at her. I can tell she’s been crying; her eyes are puffy and she keeps trying to avoid facing me. I’m not sure where I know this girl from, but it seems as though we’ve met before. Even still, I don’t know her well enough to ask what she’s upset about.

  She decides that the Tengu is okay, and gets my help to wheel it out the door. It barely fits, and she has trouble moving it across our lawn. What a wonderful creation! I wonder if it’s being used for a playground or a carnival of sorts. This young lady is quite a gifted artist. In the rising sun, the machine glows a comforting yellow. It is cool to the touch.

  “Mom is going to come home tomorrow, so you’ll be alone for today,” she says. “I left some soup in the fridge if you get hungry before then, okay?”

  She turns to leave, and I almost go back inside when I see her stop in her tracks, as if remembering something.

  “You can have your prayer back, by the way,” she says, voice cracking with tears.

  “My prayer?” I’m embarrassed to admit that I have no recollection of what she’s talking about.

  “From New Year’s. I don’t have anything to ask for, so you can use it instead.”

  I’m about to ask where this young lady is off to, but she embraces me before I can get the words out. I’m not sure why she’s hugging me, as we don’t have a history together, but I return the gesture. In all my years on Earth, the one thing I’ve learned is that sometimes, people just need to be held.

  She’s squeezing me a little too tight, a little too long. She lets go, trying to stay calm as she speaks to me. “Stay safe, Grandpa.”

  That machine looks incredibly heavy, but Anna seems to be managing. She’s pushing it along its wheels, all of her strength behind it. I admire her efforts. What a nice young girl. I wonder where she could be going.

  ANNA

  LEO WAS GONE AND I was alone. I had no choice. He got in my way, I had to remove him. Had to disappear his gawky body, his perpetually curious eyes. Those same eyes which once saw me, so long ago, from the dome of space. That night at Lucky Ginseng, The Prince had told me how it would take only “one lapse of memory” on my part for his entire life to disappear. I did the same to Leo, there was no other option. Forgetting was easy. Erasing him had been as simple as blowing a dandelion to the wind.

  Dawn was here, and I had brought the Tengu outside. It had been almost twenty-four hours since I’d last slept, yet I felt no fatigue. I would move the Tengu to where it rightfully belonged, knowing I didn’t have much time before people began to leave for work.

  My initial plan had been to move the Tengu during the day, and launch it in the early evening when visibility was still good. After my clash with Leo, however, I realized that others might not be as supportive of my mission as I had thought, and might even attempt to stop me. I had imagined this moment as a victory lap, or part of the celebratory procession of a parade, but I now understood that I would have to act in secrecy.

  I busied myself with hiding the Tengu in an attempt to forget Leo, the way he looked at me as he faded away. Every strain I put on my shoulders, every muscle I pulled when hauling The Machine, helped take my mind off him. My hands, stripped raw by the Tengu’s thick ropes, were no longer the same ones I had used to Morse, to hit, to push my only friends away. Whether this pain was the burden or the freedom I’d accrued from disappearing Leo, I couldn’t tell.

  I stashed my ship temporarily in the back alley behind a row of restaurants. The nearby dumpsters were all empty, so I could assume that the week’s garbage had already been collected. The hiding spot was more or less safe; covered up, the Tengu appeared to be just more trash. And anyway, should someone attempt to steal the Tengu, its weight meant they wouldn’t be able to get very far.

  Leo’s final expression shot through my mind once more, and I closed my eyes tightly to drive the image out. I could still feel the soft gasp he’d let out reverberating in the hollow inside my chest. His last moments weren’t of agony, but of peace. Then why did they trouble me so? It hurt to remember how he’d lifted up off the ground, staring down at me with that mixture of pity and forgiveness before disappearing to wherever the imaginary goes. I didn’t want to see another person look at me that way ever again. If all went according to plan, I wouldn’t have to.

  During the morning rush, I went inside one of the diners to kill time, only to find myself having to leave every few minutes to check on the Tengu. I could tell everyone inside the restaurant was aware I possessed something valuable. It was in the fleeting glances they cast towards me, the hushed conversations I couldn’t quite make out. I had to keep reminding myself that it wouldn’t be long before I could launch.

  Where should I launch from? I pondered this question and stirred my hundred-yen coffee, careful not to make eye contact with anyone. All of the preparations for the ship were completed, but the actual details for liftoff were still hazy. I scribbled a couple of possible launch sites on the back of a napkin, which I quickly hid when the waitress came to give me a refill, obviously trying to catch a glimpse of my secrets as she did so. I strongly disliked the coffee; in fact, it was the first time I had ever ordered it. All I wanted was the caffeine. Meanwhile, everyone in the diner continued their charade of mindless chatter, poorly hiding the fact that they were plotting against me.

  I had read about this phenomenon, this feeling of being watched, some time ago. The legend of the mokumokuren: the phantom with a thousand eyes. There are stories of people being driven mad in their own homes, after waking up in the middle of the night to find eyes peering at them from behind sliding doors, up through tatami mats, down through holes in the ceiling—eyes watching with an unflinching gaze. A mokumokuren would never harm those who returned their stare, but their presence alone could drive you to insanity. Those who dared look away would be found later, still alive, but blinded, both of their eyes poached by the apparition. I could only assume Sakita as a whole had been haunted by one.

  For an hour or so, I tried avoiding the eyes of the saboteurs around me as best as I could, until the pressure became unbearable, forcing me to escape through a side door. I sat down beside the Tengu in the alleyway, resolving to stay by its side until it was dark enough for it to be properly concealed. The stench of drip coffee and nearby dumpsters threw off my perception, and I began to see mirages when I peered out at the streets. The bodies of passersby stretched and deformed, fusing with one another, revealing the horrors normally hidden by their human forms.

  When did the weather turn like this? The piles of snow along the sidewalks were now melting and stained with mud. At some point, the sun had risen high above, beating down as if it were the peak of summer. The clouds had cleared out, stripping us of shade, and I wondered if this cruel light was, perhaps, Amaterasu’s judgement. I shed my coat in response, still sweating, as the world boiled beneath my feet.

  Though I was exhausted, I was too afraid to close my eyes for fear of falling asleep. Those who walked by could be scouting out the Tengu, trying to find a way to take it from me. The tapping of their footsteps were hidden Morse co
de messages, provoking me, attempting to lure me out. There must have been hundreds of them, maybe thousands, and I was increasingly fearful that they’d attack me all at once. I could fight off one, maybe two at most, but an entire army was out of the question. My throat was sandpaper dry, and I longed for a drink. Rather than coffee, I should have had water. Through the walls, I could still feel the eyes of the people inside the diner watching me.

  I felt one gaze in particular bearing down on me, from farther up the street. Whoever it was, they were still too far away for me to see clearly, although I could make out their general form. It was a man, judging by the width of his shoulders, the gait of his walk. He walked towards me calmly, making no attempt to chase me down, trusting that if I ran he would catch me. And I was still so thirsty! I wondered how thick my blood would be from dehydration, how dark my urine. I swallowed my saliva in a doomed attempt at fooling my body. It occurred to me that this powerful figure might be the only person I actually needed to fear. In fact, it wouldn’t be so far-fetched to imagine that all of the eyes I feared were acting as agents for him. He knew exactly where I was hiding, and was getting closer.

  The only people who had seen the Tengu were my grandpa and the late Leo, which meant that whoever was pursuing me didn’t know what the ship looked like. In stubbornly sitting next to the Tengu like a malnourished guard dog, I was placing my own creation at risk. I struggled to my feet, head swimming from low circulation, and fled the scene. Once I had decided on a location to launch from, I could return and retrieve the ship closer to nightfall. For now, it was crucial to lead this figure as far away from the Tengu as possible. I craved a drink desperately, but was too aware of the risks of slowing down. Behind me, the man continued his steady, deliberate pursuit.

  My steps were uneven, faltering from thirst, pained from a migraine. If I turned downtown, I could lose my pursuer somewhere in Sakita’s urban maze. For the first time in my life, I thanked my city’s developers for their relentless lack of foresight. I backtracked slightly to take the turn I needed, shortening the distance between us, and avoided looking in his direction. He was getting closer. I could feel it.

  I was too distracted by panic to realize that I’d made a monumental mistake. I had to concede a point to him: what he had done was a stroke of genius. By herding me into the city, he had brought me into an entire swarm of people who were secretly working for him. Everywhere I turned, a thousand gazes met mine, robbing me of any privacy I had left. Mokumokuren! Mokumokuren everywhere! They wanted to know where the Tengu was, were planning to strip me of everything I held dear.

  I pushed my way through the crowds, ignoring their feigned looks of indignation. As if they didn’t know what they were doing. It was all I could do not to scream, knowing that I was being toyed with. A young couple asked if I was okay, attempting to trap me with pity. The moment I accepted their offer for help I would be doomed, and they would take the Tengu away. When pity failed, the group attempted to break me down with taunts instead, some kid yelling out “Schizo!” from a pack of friends. I passed a teenager who reminded me of Leo, the same naive compassion registering on his face. Perhaps I’d deserved to lose him, after all. The heat was unbearable and I longed for air, water, and space, please gods, give me space—space away from these people, space away from anyone who would sabotage me. I had created Leo to be different from the others, but in the end he had been just like the rest of them. Saw himself as a saviour when all I wanted was a friend.

  I found myself on a street I wasn’t familiar with—a literal dead end in an alleyway blocked off by construction, no doubt that man’s doing. He was closing in on me, and at that point all I could do was defend myself. I searched through my backpack and closed a fist around my house keys, metal sticking out from between each knuckle. Hopefully, this would be enough to break through skin. The man was approaching, I had barely any time to prepare. I could hear his footsteps echoing. Coming closer, closer…

  When he turned into the alley, I rushed him, landing a solid punch into his side. I felt the keys sink in smoothly, and pulled back. The metal had ripped through his dark-green canvas shirt and was now sticking out of his flesh. He looked down with confusion at his wound, then pulled each key out one by one, making no show of pain. Almost as an afterthought he held out his hand, offering my keys back to me, now streaked with blood. I was out of options, unsure what to do after my first blow had failed. I took the keys back without a word, and for the first time met the eyes of my pursuer.

  I knew this man. I had seen him hundreds of times before in archived newspapers, history books, and magazine clippings. He was short, but carried himself with authority. It was The General. Only now, he was thirty-four years old, the age he’d been when he fought his last stand. He straightened his uniform, then spoke.

  SATELLITE

  …

  ANNA

  “WHY DID YOU PUNCH me?”

  The General’s face was younger, fresher than the one I was used to. Despite still being twice my age, he seemed like a child now. He was wearing army fatigues, crisply ironed as if brand new, and had slung his iconic rifle across his back. I noticed with slight discomfort that a few of his fingernails were all but gone, worn away by battle. A pool of black blood, to which he paid no attention, was spreading along his side, darkened by his camouflage uniform. He didn’t seem to be in physical pain, just confused.

  “Why were you following me?” I responded.

  “Answer my question first.”

  “I punched you because I thought you were following me. Now tell me, what are you doing here?”

  “I was out for a walk and thought I recognized you from somewhere.”

  I looked at him suspiciously. It was a pathetic excuse, but the way he spoke struck me as truthful. That was another odd thing: on top of appearing as young as he’d been during the sixties, he was now speaking and listening perfectly, and from the way his eyes moved, I assumed he was able to see as well.

  “You don’t remember me?” I asked.

  “So we do know each other!”

  “My name is Anna Obata, and you’re The General.”

  “The General? I’m Takuya Aoyama.”

  Aoyama. Blue mountain.

  I made note of this. Out of concern for his privacy, public reports had censored his full identity, and The General as an old man had never told me his family name.

  “Yes, but I call you The General. Out of respect.”

  He paused, pulling up memories from his future, before he realized who he was speaking to. “You’re the delusional girl. The one who visits me on Mondays! I wouldn’t recognize you except by touch. Come here.”

  He reached for my hand, which I was too stunned to pull away, and took it in his. “They’re just as small as I thought they were. Where did these calluses come from? Your skin used to be so soft.”

  “I’ve been working with my hands a lot recently.”

  “A girl your age should find a man to do that kind of work for her. No use straining yourself.”

  “Why are you younger?”

  He looked up from examining my fingers one by one, fascinated by every mole and crease.

  “What do you mean, ‘younger’?” he asked, an honest confusion apparent on his face.

  “Last time we met you were seventy-four years old, deaf, and blind. People don’t typically age backwards, right?”

  “I suppose not, but does it really matter?” he asked. “The whole world is going to chaos these days. Even Hell itself is a dwelling place. What’s forty years between friends?”

  I took my hand from his. It felt unnatural for us to use anything other than Morse code to communicate.

  “What does your boyfriend think of these calluses?” he asked.

  “Boyfriend?” I pretended not to know who he was talking about, trying to fool myself into forgetting who Leo was.

  “H
e visited me once, pretending to be you back when I was still blind. I was nearly fooled at first, but when I held his hand I knew. He thought he got away with it, too!” He laughed. “I’m old, not senile.”

  “You could touch him?”

  “Of course. Why? Does he not like being touched?”

  A fresh wave of nausea hit me. The General had been able to interact with Leo in the real world. Or maybe where they’d met wasn’t reality at all. It was a violation for The General to encounter one of my delusions—the two were never supposed to meet. The lines between worlds were blurring, as though someone had run their sleeve over it, smudging the ink. Who belonged where?

  “What did you and Leo talk about?” I asked.

  “Is that his name? He mostly kept his disguise up, asked questions about what you were like when we first met. He wanted to know you better. Forgive me if I’m overstepping, but I believe he loves you.”

  “Loved. And you’re not overstepping.”

  “Did something happen to you two?”

  I stepped back. “Just a disagreement, it’s fine. We’re better off apart.”

  I could smell the faint aroma of roasted sweet potatoes from afar. Someone must have been attempting a barbeque, and I imagined washing down that smoky flavour with cold barley tea. My throat ached from thirst, and to make matters worse, I was getting hungry as well. The sweet potatoes made me feel a homesickness I hadn’t experienced in a long time.

  “In all honesty,” The General admitted, “I failed to realize Leo wasn’t actually you until after he left. In the moment, I was too worked up to think clearly. It was only after he escaped that I put two and two together.”

  “Escaped?”

  He started to say something, then drifted off. “Is someone roasting potatoes in the middle of the city?” he asked, appearing grateful for the distraction.