The Complete Ring Trilogy

by Kōji Suzuki

  “What does it mean?”

  “Let’s have a beer first.”

  As they ducked under a shop curtain, Ando noticed that it said Beef Tongue. Miyashita didn’t trouble to ask what Ando wanted; instead, the moment they were inside he called for two draft beers and an order of salted tongue. Miyashita seemed to know the proprietor. They exchanged glances of recognition as Miyashita and Ando headed for two counter seats in the back. Those were the quietest seats in the house.

  First, Miyashita asked Ando what he had done to figure out the code embedded in Ryuji’s virus. Ando took the printout from his briefcase and began to explain the steps he’d gone through. Miyashita nodded repeatedly. Before Ando was half finished, Miyashita seemed to be convinced of the soundness of his method.

  “It looks like ‘mutation’ has to be the answer, alright. The proof of your approach is that it yields exactly one solution.” Miyashita patted Ando on the shoulder. “By the way, I’m sure you’ve noticed what all this is analogous to?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Miyashita took a crumpled sheet of paper from his pocket and unfolded it. It had something drawn on it. Whatever it was, it had been done roughly, merely to illustrate a spur-of-the-moment idea.

  “Have a look at this,” Miyashita said, handing him the paper. Ando took it and flattened it out on the bar in front of him.

  He understood immediately. It was an illustration of how the DNA double helix inside a cell replicates itself. The strands of the double helix are complementary: when the structure of one is determined, the other one is automatically determined, too. When a cell divides, the two strands separate, each one faithfully creating next-generation copies of the original. This process of copying a gene and passing it down from parent to child can be thought of as the basics of heredity.

  This was, of course, elementary to Ando. “What about it?” he asked.

  “Think for a minute about the mechanism behind the evolution of species.”

  There was a lot that still wasn’t known about evolution. For example, the basic concepts of Kinji Imanishi’s theory differed from those of Neo-Darwinism, but it was impossible to determine, definitively, who was right. All in all, it was “let a hundred flowers bloom” in the world of evolutionary theory; everybody, qualified or not, weighed in with strongly held opinions. But even without decisive evidence to settle the question, Ando knew that recent developments in molecular biology had come close to showing that sudden genetic mutations were a driving force in evolution.

  So he answered by saying, with some confidence, “It probably begins with genetic mutation.” He felt he could guess where the conversation was going.

  “Right. Mutation is the trigger that moves evolution forward. So, how do mutations happen?” Miyashita took a long swig of his beer, and then pulled a ballpoint pen from his breast pocket. Before Ando had a chance to reply to his question, Miyashita was writing again on the illustration. The reason mutations occur. Ando tried to peer past his hand at the sketch.

  “An error arises in the genetic code—some chance damage or displacement to the genes—and that error is copied and passed down. Thus, a mutation. Are you with me? This is the current thinking on the mechanism of mutation.”

  Miyashita pointed at his diagram with his pen to emphasize his points, but this wasn’t anything that had to be explained to Ando. Genetic damage can be caused on purpose in a laboratory using X-rays or ultraviolet radiation. But, usually, mutations occur at random. The DNA sequence, which theoretically should be faithfully copied and transmitted to future generations, sometimes mutates due to a copying error, so to speak, and as enough of these mutations accumulate through replication, gradually a new species arises. A given mutation can be looked at as one small step toward evolution.

  “Remember that analogy I mentioned, my friend?” Miyashita murmured. Finally it dawned on Ando what Miyashita was getting at. X was like Y. Now that Ando considered it, there was indeed a resemblance.

  “You’re talking about duplicating videos, aren’t you?” Ando finally said.

  “Don’t you think it’s basically the same thing?” Miyashita shoved two slices of tongue into his mouth and washed them down with beer.

  Ando turned the paper over and spread it out on the counter, and then borrowed Miyashita’s pen and began to make a diagram of his own. He needed to take stock of the points of similarity. Even if it was something he thought he already knew inside out, he knew it often helped him to map a thing out on paper.

  On the 26th of August, a videotape came into the world in Villa Log Cabin. On the twenty-ninth, four young people lodging in that same cabin erased part of the end of the tape—the part that said, Whoever watches this video must make a copy of it and show it to someone else within a week. The kids taped commercials over this section of the video. To the videotape, it was as if an unforeseen, random event had damaged its genetic sequence, the chain of images. An error was introduced. The tape, now containing the error, was then copied by Asakawa. Naturally, the error was copied as well. Thus far, the process was exactly like the one DNA uses to replicate itself. Not only that, but the erased section of the tape, the message, was meant to play a critical role in the tape’s ability to reproduce. In genetic terms, it was a regulator gene. Shock to a regulator gene can make it easier for mutation to occur. Had a trauma to the end of the tape caused the video to mutate?

  Ando let the pen come to rest. “Hold on a second. We’re not talking about a living thing here.”

  Miyashita didn’t miss a beat. It was as if he’d prepared his response ahead of time.

  “If someone asked you to define life, what’s your answer?”

  Life, in Ando’s view, basically boiled down to two things: the ability of an entity to reproduce itself, and its possession of a physical form. Taking a single cell as an example, it had DNA to oversee its self-reproduction, while it had protein to give it external shape. But a videotape? To be sure, it had a physical form—its plastic shell, usually black and rectangular. But it couldn’t be said to have the ability to reproduce itself.

  “A video doesn’t have the ability to reproduce on its own.”

  “So?” Miyashita sounded impatient now.

  “So you’re saying it’s just like a virus …”

  Ando felt like groaning. Viruses are a strange form of life: they lack the power to reproduce on their own. On that score, they actually fall somewhere between the animate and the inanimate. What a virus can do is burrow into the cells of another living creature and use them to help it reproduce. Just as the videotape in question had held its watchers in thrall by means of its threat to destroy them unless they copied it. The tape had used people in its reproductive process.

  “But …” Ando felt compelled to object at this point. He wasn’t even sure what he wanted to deny. He just felt that if he didn’t, something catastrophic would happen.

  “But all copies of the video have been neutralized.”

  There shouldn’t be any more danger, in other words. Even if the videotape had been alive in the limited way a virus is, it was extinct now. All four specimens that had been introduced into the world had now been removed from it.

  “You’re right. The videotape is extinct. But that’s the old strain.” The beads of sweat on Miyashita’s face grew larger with every swallow of beer he took.

  “What do you mean, old?” asked Ando.

  “The video mutated. Through copying, it evolved until a new strain emerged. It’s still lurking out there somewhere. And it’s taken a completely different form. That’s what I think, anyway.”

  Ando could only stare open-mouthed. His mug was empty, but he wanted something stronger than beer now. He tried to order some shochu gin on the rocks, but his voice faltered and he couldn’t make himself heard to the bartender. Miyashita took over, holding up two fingers and calling out, “Shochu!” Two glasses of the liquor were set on the bar before them, and Ando immediately reached out and drank about a third of his
in one gulp. Miyashita watched him out of the corner of his eyes, and then said:

  “If the videotape did mutate and evolve into a new form during the process of multiple copying, then it wouldn’t matter at all to the new species if the old one died out. Think about it. Ryuji went to all the trouble of manipulating a DNA sequence so he could talk to us from the world of the dead. I can’t think of any other explanation for why he’d send us the word ‘mutation’. Can you?”

  Of course Ando couldn’t. How could he? He brought the liquor to his lips time and again, but intoxication seemed still a long way off. His head was distressingly clear.

  It might be true. Ando found himself gradually leaning toward Miyashita’s viewpoint. Ryuji probably meant the word “mutation” as a warning. Ando could almost see Ryuji’s face as he sneered, You think you’re safe. You think it’s extinct. But you won’t get off that easy. It’s mutated, and a new version is rearing its head.

  Ando was reminded of the AIDS virus. It was thought that several hundred years ago some preexisting virus mutated and became what is now known as the AIDS virus. The previous virus didn’t infect humans, and may well have been harmless. But through mutation, it took on the power to wreak havoc with the human immune system. What if the same thing happened with this videotape? Ando could only pray that the opposite happened, that a harmful thing was now innocuous. But the facts suggested otherwise. Far from becoming harmless, the mutated videotape had turned into something that killed anybody who watched it regardless of whether or not they made a copy of it. If that was any indication, the thing was getting even nastier. And with Ando unable to form any conclusions yet about Mai’s disappearance, that left Asakawa as the only anomaly.

  “Why is Asakawa still alive?” Ando asked Miyashita the same thing he’d asked him the day before.

  “That’s the question, isn’t it? He’s the only clue as to what that videotape has turned into.”

  “Well, actually … there is one other person.”

  Ando gave Miyashita a brief rundown on Mai: how the video had made its way through Ryuji to her, how there was evidence that she’d watched it, and how she’d been missing for nearly three weeks now.

  “Which means there are two people who saw the tape and are still alive.”

  “Asakawa’s still alive, although just barely. I’m not sure about Mai.”

  “I hope she’s alive.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, why not? We’re better off with two clues than with one.”

  He had a point. If Mai was still alive, they might be able to figure out what she and Asakawa had in common. It might give them an answer. But for his part, Ando just hoped she was safe.

  PART FOUR

  Evolving

  1

  Monday afternoon, November 26th

  Ando had finished an autopsy on a boy who’d drowned in a river, and now he was filling out a report while listening to the boy’s father explain the circumstances.

  Ando was trying to ascertain the boy’s date of birth and his movements on the day of the accident, but the man’s answers were vague and confused, making Ando’s job difficult. Sometimes the father would gaze out the window when the conversation flagged, and sometimes Ando caught him stifling a yawn. He looked sapped of strength, drowsy. Ando wanted to finish up as quickly as he could and release the man.

  Then the M.E.’s office rang with a sudden commotion. They’d just been notified by the police that another body was coming in, that of an unidentified female. At the moment, they were simultaneously preparing to treat the body and to dissect it. Dr Nakayama, an older colleague of Ando’s, would be in charge of the autopsy. The police had said she’d been discovered in an exhaust shaft on the roof of an office building. This meant the team would have to do two autopsies back to back, so assistants and policemen were running in and out now getting ready.

  “The body has arrived, Doctor.”

  The autopsy assistant’s voice rang out. Ando jumped involuntarily and looked toward the sound. Ikeda, the assistant, was standing by the half-open door, facing Nakayama. For some reason, though, Ando felt as though he were the one being summoned.

  “Alright,” said Nakayama, getting slowly to his feet. “Get it ready, would you?” Nakayama had joined the M.E.’s office two years before Ando; he belonged to the Forensic Medicine Department of Joji University Medical School.

  The assistant disappeared, and in his place a policeman came in and approached Nakayama. After a couple of words of greeting, the cop pulled up a chair and sat down next to Nakayama.

  Ando looked back down at his own work. But he could overhear the policeman’s conversation with Nakayama behind him, and it interested him. He could only catch fragments, words here and there. The officer seemed to be explaining the circumstances in which the body had been found.

  Ando stopped writing and listened. The words “unidentified” and “young female” cropped up again and again.

  Nakayama asked, “But why was she on the roof?”

  “We don’t know why she went up there. Maybe she was thinking of jumping.”

  “Was there a note of any kind?”

  “We haven’t found one yet.”

  “I imagine, from inside an exhaust shaft nobody would have heard her cries for help.”

  “It’s not a residential area.”

  “Where is it?”

  “East Oi, in Shinagawa Ward. It’s an old fourteen-story building along the Shore Road.”

  Ando looked up in shock. He recalled the view from the Keihin Express tracks. Beyond the residential district, one could see the Shore Road where it passed through a district lined with warehouses and office buildings. It was just a stone’s throw from Mai’s apartment. An unidentified young female on the roof of a building on the Shore Road …

  “I think that’ll do. If I have any more questions I’ll give you a call.” Ando thanked the boy’s father and wrapped up what he was doing. He was too interested in the conversation behind him to be able to put together a report right now. There were still some things he knew he needed to find out, but he decided he’d take care of them later.

  Ando slipped his papers into a folder and got to his feet. Nakayama and the policeman stood up at the same time. Ando went over and clapped a hand on Nakayama’s shoulder. Bowing slightly to the officer, whom he recognized, Ando said, “The female you’re doing next—she hasn’t been identified?”

  The three of them left the office and headed down the hall toward the autopsy room.

  It was the policeman who answered Ando. “That’s right. She didn’t have anything on her to help us peg her.”

  “How old is she?”

  “She’s young, twenty or thereabouts. She’d be quite a looker, if she weren’t dead.”

  Twenty or thereabouts. Mai was twenty-two, but she could easily pass for a woman in her teens. Ando could feel himself starting to choke.

  “Any distinguishing features?”

  He’d know immediately if he saw the body. But he needed to prepare himself first. Of course he’d much rather hear something that proved it wasn’t her. Then he could leave without having to check.

  “What’s the matter, Dr Ando?” Nakayama grinned. “Are you more interested now that you know she’s a knockout?”

  “No, it’s not that,” said Ando, refusing to play along. “There’s just something that bothers me about it.” Seeing his expression, Nakayama quickly wiped the leer off his face.

  “Now that you mention it, there was something strange about her. Dr Nakayama should hear this, too.”

  “What’s that?”

  “She wasn’t wearing any underwear.”

  “Really? Top or bottom?”

  “She was wearing a bra, but no panties.”

  “Were her clothes in disarray when she was found?”

  Ando and Nakayama were both thinking the same thing: maybe she’d been raped on the rooftop, and then thrown down the exhaust shaft.

  “No disturbance o
f her clothes, and at least on visual inspection, no evidence of rape.”

  “What was she wearing?”

  “A skirt, knee socks, blouse, sweatshirt. A normal outfit. You might even say conservative.”

  But she hadn’t been wearing panties. November, and she was wearing a skirt and no panties. Was that normal for her?

  “Excuse me, but I’m not sure exactly what you mean when you say she was found in an exhaust shaft on a roof,” Ando said. He was having trouble imagining the scene.

  “We’re talking a shaft about ten feet deep and about three feet wide, next to the machine rooms on the roof. It’s usually covered with wire mesh, but it’d been partially removed.”

  “Enough for her to fall through.”

  “Probably.”

  “Is it the kind of place you just trip and fall into?”

  “No. It’s not easy even to get close to. First of all, the door from the elevator hall to the roof is locked.”

  “So how did she get there?”

  “There’s a ladder up to the roof from the top of the fire escape. It’s built into the outside wall. We think she went up that. It’s the only way she could have gotten up there.”

  Ando didn’t see what she could have been doing up there.

  “About the underwear. Do you think she could have taken it off herself, intentionally, inside the exhaust shaft?” The shaft was three yards deep. If she’d fallen, she would have hurt herself. Maybe she’d taken off her panties to use as a bandage. Or maybe she thought she could somehow use them to help her escape.

  “We looked for them. In the shaft, and all over the roof. And then, just to be sure, we checked around the perimeter of the building, too.”

  “Why the perimeter?” Nakayama interjected.

  “We thought maybe she’d wrapped them around a piece of metal or something and tossed them. Inside the shaft, there was no chance anybody’d be able to hear her cries for help. The only way to let the outside world know where she was would have been to throw something down that might catch people’s attention. But that turned out to be impossible, too.”