by Issui Ogawa
“Don’t worry about the ball court. All we need to do is come up with a new ball game that doesn’t take much space to play.”
“Brilliant! I like it.”
“Still, the specifications have gotten a lot tougher for some reason. I’d better find out why,” said Sohya as he left the office. The one thing he’d neglected to mention was the author of the new requirements.
It had to be Tae; there was no doubt about it. That “report” she’d been working on during their moon trip had gone to ELE. That was probably the reason she’d been sent—to determine how the moon could be transformed from a place where humans struggled to survive to one that anyone could casually visit.
But even so, things didn’t add up. The current plan assumed that the fare for one person to travel to the moon would be at least a hundred million yen, even with the new technology. If they received an average of four visitors a month—nearly a thousand people over the base’s twenty-year operating life—they would still not even break even on the 150 million yen construction cost.
Did a base on the moon—with its sand and ice, black skies, and weak gravity—really have that kind of drawing power? It might for a short time, while the concept still had some novelty. But could it keep attracting people year after year? People willing to pay a fortune for a stay of just a few days?
And if not, what was the purpose?
To find out, Sohya traveled to Aichi Prefecture and the headquarters of Eden Leisure Entertainment.
[4]
SOHYA RANG OFF his wearcom from his seat in the Nagoyabound maglev express. Gotoba’s liaison at ELE headquarters in downtown Nagoya was expecting his call. Instead of a meeting at headquarters with ELE staff, Sohya was told to proceed to Tokai Eden, where Tae would be waiting for him.
He transferred to the train for Leisure Land at Nagoya. Japan’s third-largest amusement park was spread across seventy-five acres of reclaimed land where the Kiso River flowed into Ise Bay. The early autumn school-excursion season had arrived, and the train was overflowing with students of all ages.
Naturally there were no ticket vending machines at the entrance to the park. Just as in the train station, an overhead imaging system tracked people entering the park using face recognition. A few days later, a bill would arrive from the visitor’s credit card company or financial institution. When the system was first introduced, some feared it would miss the faces of rapidly growing children, but that particular problem was solved by simple common sense. Preschool children would not be visiting the park on their own. All the system had to do was identify the parents’ faces. For children visiting in groups, the system could simply identify the face of the teacher accompanying them.
Tokai Eden’s monitoring system enhanced its accuracy by linking to visitor wearcoms with electronic toll collection signals, a system first commercialized around 2000 to automate toll collection for highways. Sohya realized this when he passed through the entrance and his wearcom emitted a short beep.
The wearable computer was a universal terminal crammed with nearly every conceivable electronic function that could be made portable. No adult was without one. It united the functions of a personal computer and mobile phone in a device that could be worn as an accessory—as a wristwatch, bracelet, or necklace, or embedded in a hair ornament or eyeglasses. One of its main functions was to link to mobile networks in the gigahertz band, which allowed user locations to be pinpointed with great accuracy.
Of course, the wearcom providers all made a point of advertising security features that would prevent complete strangers from tracking the owner’s whereabouts. But here in Leisure Land, Sohya was on ELE territory.
He suddenly found his path blocked by two charming costumed characters, a boy and girl representing primitive humans wearing clothes made of grass. He stood puzzled for a moment, then heard that pure voice, like a silver bell, calling to him.
“Hi, Sohya.”
When he looked around, her smile was blossoming just a few feet away. He was astonished that she’d been able to spot him among the hordes of students streaming past on both sides—but then he remembered that park security could track anyone with a wearcom. He scratched his head sheepishly.
“Hey there. You found me.”
“Welcome to my Eden. It’s good to see you.”
Tae approached him with controlled exuberance, one sandaled foot toes-first in front of the other. Her black tresses hung loose as always, but instead of the uniform, she was wearing a one-piece Canton crepe dress that shaded from white at the neck to black just above her knees. With it she wore a cardigan and a broadbrimmed white straw hat and black, open-toed enameled sandals. She radiated girlishness and refinement without a single false note.
Sohya wanted to get right to the point, but before he could begin, she took his arm. “Come on.”
“Where? I came to discuss the base plans.”
“You’re riding on the house today. I got you a free pass.”
“To the attractions? But we’ll be in line for hours.”
“No, we won’t.”
It wasn’t her insistent tugging so much as her intent expression that persuaded Sohya to give in. So he allowed himself to be dragged off, as if Tae were a little sister he’d brought to the park.
She was as good as her word; after all, she was the chairman’s daughter. At each attraction, her pendant wearcom was a talisman that passed them through the service entrance and onto every ride. The Viking Ark, the Snake-in-the-Garden Roller Coaster, Go-Carts from Hell—each attraction seemed inspired by a freewheeling, if somewhat mordant, borrowing of themes from the Old Testament. And at each attraction their waiting time was zero. Sohya put up with two rides just to be social, but when the girl refused to give her attention to anything else, he gave up, relaxed, and gave himself over to the fun.
“Tae, you don’t have school todaaaay?”
“Whaaaat?”
“School! Schooool!”
“Aaaaaaaah!”
The wind howling past their pod on Kokytos, a gigantic roller coaster with a 140-meter drop, snatched her straw hat and sent it spinning off into the sunset over Ise Bay.
Back on terra firma, Sohya collapsed on a bench, gasping for breath. He felt something cold on his forehead and sat up. Tae was looking down on him, armed with frozen drinks. She motioned to a giant Ferris wheel.
“One last ride. The Apple Tree.”
Their apple-shaped gondola climbed slowly, lit by the sun setting beyond the Yoro Mountains. For the first time that day—no, it must have been the first time ever—they were alone together. Sitting opposite her in the gondola, Sohya looked at nothing else for a long time.
If called upon, Sohya could honestly express at least 95 percent of his attitude toward Tae. He saw her as a bit too precocious, perhaps, but sincerely appreciated her openhearted nature. She was almost like a lovable younger sister.
The other 5 percent of his feelings were harder to get a handle on. At thirteen, Tae was rapidly leaving childhood behind, and Sohya felt a slight tenderness toward her that was new to him. Yet his respect for her overshadowed all else. In a sense, she was even intimidating. There was something about this girl that lay far outside the ordinary. But what? It struck Sohya that he knew almost nothing about her.
Tae watched the eastern sky deepen into night. Her lovely profile, half in shadow, was bereft of vitality, but not from the day’s endless round of attractions. Some fatigue beyond her years seemed to suffuse her face.
“The lights are so cold.” Her lips, like a tender blossom, moved faintly. Sohya followed her gaze.
The lights of Nagoya, the largest city in the Chubu region, were starting to wink on. The numberless tiny points of illumination seemed to display as many colors. Sohya placed his hand on the edge of the window and rested his chin there. “I see red and orange too.”
“The colors, yes. But there aren’t any lights out there waiting for me.”
“Isn’t your home around here?”
“I have a maid and some robots, that’s it. Grandfather’s almost never around, he travels on business so much.”
“What about your family?”
“My…father is even busier than my grandfather.”
Uh-oh. The way Tae said “father” suggested that she was reluctant to call him even that. The reason was not hard to guess. She hadn’t mentioned her mother.
Sohya’s attempt to change the subject didn’t fare much better. “But you must be popular at school. You’re very attractive.”
“I’m already out of college. I was in California.” Sohya couldn’t think of a response.
“Sure, I have a lot of friends on the web, but none of them are within a thousand kilometers of me. Stupid, isn’t it?”
“But I’m here.”
“I thought you’d be nice enough to say that. That’s why I asked you to come.” She suddenly seemed almost frail, but her eyes were smiling. “That list must be giving you fits. I thought you’d come.”
“It reflected everything you learned at Kunlun. You dropped a bombshell, that’s for sure.” Sohya’s next question hardly needed asking. “How we build the base is completely up to you then, isn’t it?”
“Yes. I told Grandfather I wanted that more than anything.” She said it casually, as if the base were a doll she fancied. “A hundred and fifty billion is the most he can spend without authorization. He doesn’t think Eden will make a profit. Reika was brought in so things would at least look proper. I feel sorry for her. The base was never intended to make money.”
“Sounds like she got a raw deal.”
“And you?”
“I’m okay, I guess.” They looked at each other and laughed weakly.
“I just hope Grandfather lives another ten years so he can see it finished. I don’t have any right to expect that. This is a fairy tale. I’m trying to see how grand I can make it.”
“Why are you doing this?”
She paused. “Because I’m a special girl.” She looked out the window at the sky. “I don’t have what ordinary girls have. Instead, I’m a little bit smart, and I have, well, a lot of money. So I decided I should at least try to do something no one else can do. Something no one else would try to do.”
“And that means building a base on the moon?”
“I’m saying goodbye to Earth.” Her tone was frighteningly calm. “I won’t have any regrets. Everything I care about is in cyberspace. I’ve experienced it all—friends, warm waters off Samoa, soft kangaroos in Perth, hot borscht in Moscow, cool winds off Kilimanjaro, slick whales in Koch, the tallest redwoods in Yellowstone, sweet cream puffs on the Champs Elysées. So there’s no need for me to stay. I’m going to make a new place for myself as far away as I can go—the moon.”
“So we’re building a home for you on the moon?”
Tae gave him a sharp, quick smile, lips like a crescent moon.
“You’re building a wedding palace.”
Sohya stared. Tae stared straight back at him.
“Why do you think I would do that?”
He was baffled. “I don’t know.”
“Even if it costs a lot, people will come for a wedding. Celebrities will spend hundreds of millions of yen without a second thought. Even regular people will pay, oh, ten million.”
“Isn’t that only if they’re from Nagoya?”
“Yes, I got the idea because I’m from Nagoya. That old stereotype has an element of truth to it; we do like big weddings. But the world is full of parents wanting to celebrate a young couple’s new start in life. Two hundred million per person, minimum two couples. For four hundred million, they get a two-day, three-night wedding and honeymoon. People will definitely come for a honeymoon like that. Lots and lots of them.”
Tae looked down at the park below. “Everything has to be perfect so the guests can enjoy themselves. Look at all the people who pay eight thousand yen to visit Tokai Eden. It’s because we pay such attention to detail. We even use costumed characters to collect the trash. It has to be a place where people can have fun.”
“That’s why you want the base to be so luxurious.”
“Yes.” She nodded and fell silent, waiting for Sohya’s comment, but he had no idea what to say. He sensed a gap between the audacity and detail of her vision and the idea of having a wedding palace as the core facility.
The gondola reached its apogee and began descending quietly. “Sohya? When people set foot in a new world, what do they have to do to be able to say it belongs to them?”
“Belongs to them?” It was an abrupt question. Sohya didn’t think too deeply before answering, “Raise a flag, or notify somebody.”
“They have to be born there.” Tae spoke with firm conviction. “A person can have the confidence to call a place their own if they were born there. A visit is just exploring. But if they get married there and make a baby there…then that place will really be theirs.”
“Is that another reason for the wedding palace?”
“One of them. There are others.” Tae fell silent again. She didn’t seem interested in explaining further. Finally she spoke, but as if she were talking to herself.
“Two people fall in love…they come to a new place, they marry, they make a baby. Build a home, build farms, build a city. Maybe it won’t be Shangri-la, but it’s sure to be full of life. A big new world. Yes…like the American continent long ago. A new continent, but untouched by mankind.”
“An unexplored continent. The sixth continent, like Antarctica,” said Sohya.
“Sixth continent…Sure, not everyone counts five continents, but the Olympic flag represents five. Yes, the sixth continent. I like the way that sounds.” A smile she seemed to have forgotten for a short time played across her lips. “Sohya, I’m going to use that name.”
“Mm-hm.” His mind was on something else.
“Tae, what’s your role in that new world?”
She didn’t answer immediately. Apparently the question had caught her by surprise. She glanced around nervously, then looked out the window, as if looking to escape.
“I wonder. I don’t want to get married, myself.”
“I see. So you don’t have a boyfriend?” Sohya looked out the window.
“Sure. He’s right here with me.” She smiled mischievously.
Sohya laughed skeptically. “Me?”
“Is that bad news?”
“Of course not. I’m honored.” Sohya extended his hand. She took it and unhesitatingly moved next to him.
That was the real beginning of their relationship. Still, Tae was mature enough for her age not to fall into a girlish infatuation, and Sohya was not naive enough to lose his head over a girl a dozen years his junior.
So it started serenely, without fanfare or any surge of romantic feeling—a smooth start to a relationship that would weave itself in curious ways. A girl on a journey, and a young man following close behind.
“I guess it’s a bit soon for marriage?” said Sohya gently.
“Yes. I don’t want to anyway. I’m still not sure where I fit in.”
“No problem, let’s give it time. I’ll always be in touch. I think your plan’s a good one.”
Their gondola neared the ground. Tae was still looking at the eastern sky. A line of buildings, and above that the horizon with a silver disk peeking above it. Faint bluish white light—was it the moon or the lights from the park?—lit up Tae’s face and made her look noble, like royalty itself. Like the moon’s harsh mistress…
The phrase floated up from somewhere in Sohya’s memory. Somehow it seemed he hadn’t gotten it quite right. Still, he thought it captured Tae at this moment perfectly.
Let it be so, then. Let all the sentient beings of this world gather for a magnificent banquet in a palace between endless night and a sun that never sets.
Not for the politicians, or the people, or even the earth and its precious biosphere, but simply for the pleasure of a little queen.
What could be more subl
ime?
ON OCTOBER I, 2025, Gotoba Engineering & Construction, Eden Leisure Entertainment, and Tenryu Galaxy Transport officially announced their joint intention to build Sixth Continent, a wedding palace on the moon.
BOOK II
ENGINEERING EQUIPMENT,
TRANSPORT, AND SITE
PREPARATION, 2029–2033
CHAPTER 4
SITE INVESTIGATION AND ANNOUNCEMENT
[1]
THE TILT-ROTOR TOUCHED down on the landing pad, twin turboshaft engines roaring. Two figures walked down onto the tarmac. One was a white-haired old man in a three-piece suit. The other was a girl about high school age, wearing a white beret and a blazer the color of the predawn sky. The old man raised his hand, signaling the pilot to stand by. The girl set off toward the proving ground.
They were in a huge clearing cut from a forest. Between the helipad and a group of prefab buildings stood a pair of single-story structures the size of gymnasiums. Alongside was a power distribution station, encircled by a high fence.
The core of the facility, however, was not the buildings. It was the huge area of sunken ground in the center of the site. The visitors had seen it from the air. The barren depression, hundreds of yards across, was dotted with mounds of earth several meters high and crisscrossed by trenches that looked like parched riverbeds. There was an area full of huge scattered boulders and many sheer escarpments.
These were not natural features. They had been created artificially to achieve some purpose. The proving ground was enormous, a rough square a thousand yards on a side. If the visitors did not know they were on Japan’s main island of Honshu, they might have assumed they were in some remote foreign location. In the distance, rising above the trees surrounding the helipad, rose a titanic conical volcano: Mount Fuji. The proving ground had been carved from part of a training area for the Ground Self-Defense Force.
A Jeep met the visitors as they left the pad. They climbed aboard and headed toward the testing area. The road climbed a shallow rise. As the Jeep reached the top, the girl said to the driver, “Stop the car, please.”
