Spiral

by Kōji Suzuki

  A week later I had grown to the age I had been at my death. Mysteriously, I retained all my memories from my previous life. My birth in Sashikiji on Izu Oshima Island, my transient life with my mother as she was subjected to parapsychological experiments, my aged father's time in the sanatorium… I remembered it all. Why is that, I wonder. Perhaps memories are not engraved upon the folds of the brain, but stored in the genes.

  Deep within my body, however, there was one way in which I could tell I differed from my previous self. Intuition is all I have to go by regarding the changes in my body, but I know beyond a doubt that I am different from what I was before. I seem to have both a womb and testicles. Previously, I had no womb. Reborn, I have both. I am now a complete hermaphrodite. What is more, the man in me can ejaculate. I learned that as a result of what we did together.

  At that point, Miyashita raised his eyes from the notebook and glanced at Ando. Thinking Miyashita meant to tease him about sleeping with Sadako, Ando snapped, "Shut up and keep reading."

  But Miyashita was thinking about something else. "'A complete hermaphrodite.' Suppose she- it, maybe?-can have a child without procreative sex? Imagine the consequences."

  There are many lower organisms that can reproduce without male-female union. Worms, for example, have male and female parts in one body, and can lay fertilized eggs. Reproduction among single-celled organisms by cellular division also falls under the heading of asexual reproduction. A child born without input from a male and a female would have the same genes as its single parent. In other words, Sadako would give birth to another Sadako. If such a thing were possible.

  "If that's true, then…" Ando's gaze wandered uneasily off into space. "Then Sadako isn't human anymore. She's a new species. New species arise due to mutation. This is evolution happening before our eyes!"

  Ando tried to pursue the train of logic. The question was how Sadako meant to establish herself as a new species. When a new species arises as a result of mutation, it can find only unmutated individuals to mate with.

  For example, suppose a single black sheep is born into a flock of thousands of white sheep. That black sheep must mate with a white sheep. Assuming the result of this mating to be a white or gray sheep, it's easy to see how the trait of blackness must become weaker and weaker until it gradually disappears. Unless there are at least two black sheep, one of each sex, the trait will not be passed on down the generations.

  But in Sadako's case, the problem was already solved. If she could reproduce asexually, there was no need for her to choose a breeding partner. If she could reproduce herself, all alone, then all the traits that made her Sadako would be transmitted to the next generation.

  However, with one Sadako giving birth to another Sadako, one at a time, the species' rate of increase would be extremely slow, no faster than the videotape's propagation, one copy at a time. And while the species dallied, the human race might corner it and annihilate it. Just as the killer videotape itself had been made extinct. In order to thrive, the new species needed to reproduce itself rapidly and en masse. Sadako needed to secure room to survive, perhaps by usurping human habitats, perhaps by flooding in through the cracks. Perhaps she already had a plan…

  Ando's thoughts were interrupted when Miyashita resumed reading from the notebook.

  This has become rather a long letter, but I assure you that every word of it is true. I have simply told you honestly what happened to me. Why have I? So that you may understand. And now that you do understand, I would like to ask you to do something for me. Why you? Because I believe you, as an expert, have the expert knowledge that will be required.

  Ando braced himself reflexively. Oh God, here it comes. What if it was something he didn't know how to do? The thought filled him with anxiety.

  First things first: I want you not to interfere with the publication of Ring.

  Well, that was certainly within the scope of his abilities. All he had to do was do nothing.

  I want you not to interfere with anything else I may try to do, either. I want you to cooperate with me.

  Please listen to me. It is not my intention to threaten you, but I must tell you that something very bad will happen to you if you interfere. After all, you have already read the manuscript called Ring. Consider it too late, please, to do anything. If you cross me, you will find a change coming over your body. But I realize that you are courageous and may be willing to resist me even at the risk of death. So I think I must offer you a reward for granting my request. Nothing is free, is it? What would you say if I told you that I could offer you the thing you want most, namely…

  Miyashita stopped reading and handed the notebook to Ando, evidently wanting him to see for himself what came next.

  No sooner did Ando read what was written there than he dropped the notebook. In an instant he'd been robbed of the power to think; all strength had been sapped from his body. He'd never dreamed she would offer such a thing. Miyashita must have guessed how he was feeling, and he made no comment.

  Ando's eyes were shut. Sadako, he felt, was whispering sweetly to him that he should destroy the human race. That he should take the side of the new species, become its ally, and work on its behalf. Sadako understood that without collaborators among humans, her species could never survive. Junichiro Asakawa, through his efforts to publish Ring, was already acting on Sadako's behalf. He probably didn't yet realize it himself, but there was no question Sadako was manipulating him.

  But the compensation Ando was being offered in exchange for his soul was more than enticing. How many times had he prayed for that dream to come true? Never thinking that it actually could.

  Is such a thing possible? he asked himself. He opened his eyes and looked at the bookshelf. There it was, in an envelope sandwiched between two books. Medically, it wasn't impossible. And with Sadako's help, it might actually happen. Still…

  He raised his voice in a cry of anguish. If Sadako wasn't stopped now, there was no telling what suffering she'd bring to the human race. As a member of that race, Ando couldn't betray it. In the end the only way to stop Sadako was to destroy her. But if her body was obliterated, his dream would be, too. The only way to make his dream come true was to keep Sadako safe and healthy.

  Ando was openly groaning now from the depths of his torment. As he lay on the bed, belly heaving, he saw a figure behind his closed eyelids, a figure that he could not chase away.

  "What should I do?" Ando wept. He was incapable of coining to a decision on his own.

  "That's your problem," Miyashita said-not cruelly, but with calm self-possession.

  "But I don't know what I should do."

  "Think about it. If we get in Sadako's way, you and I, we'll be killed on the spot. She'll just find someone else to assist her, that's all."

  Miyashita was probably right. Everything was clear when he thought about it coolly. Ando's meeting up with Sadako had not been pure chance. She'd been watching him. None of it was accident, not his brush with her in Mai's apartment, not his rooftop encounter with her, not their meeting at Sangubashi Station. She'd foreseen that Ando would ferret out the truth, and she'd made her moves. Suddenly, Ando felt it was simply impossible to outmaneuver Sadako. All he had to do was make one false move and the ring virus in his body would start to wreak havoc on him.

  Miyashita had seen this immediately and drawn the obvious conclusion, but Ando still couldn't quite make up his mind.

  "Are you saying I should cooperate with her?"

  "What else can you do?"

  "What about humanity?"

  "Come on, stop acting like you're a delegate for the whole species. Besides, you've already decided, haven't you? Consider the reward, for God's sake. Are you telling me you mean to pass it up?"

  "But it's not fair. What do you get out of it?"

  "I'll consider it a sort of insurance policy. One day I might be glad I had it, you know. We've no idea what life has in store for us."

  Ando realized he was cornered, snared. Decad
es from now, he would be in the history books, and not as a hero. He'd be remembered as the traitor thanks to whom the human race was driven to the brink of extinction. That was, of course, if there was still a human race to remember him. If the species ended, so did its history.

  Why did I ever get involved in the first place?

  Remorsefully, Ando thought back to how it had all begun for him. How could he forget it? There had been Ryuji's autopsy, and then the code, RING. It was meant to inform Ando of the existence of a report, Ring. He'd read that report. If he hadn't read it, he wouldn't be in this mess now. If only he hadn't read it…

  Something interrupted Ando's reflections. A thought. There was something else going on here.

  "Ryuji," he muttered. Miyashita gave him a worried look. Ando paid no attention, though, as he pursued this new line of reasoning. He was beginning to think he saw a will at work behind all the events he'd accepted as random. Had Ryuji really sent him the words "ring" and "mutation" in code out of pure goodwill? Just to tell Ando to pay attention? Ando began to doubt that. He began to see those hints as course corrections, delivered at moments when Ando seemed about to get off track. Why had Ryuji done such a thing?

  There was something else, too. Just why had Mai ended up watching the killer video anyway? If it hadn't been for the coincidence of her watching it on the very day she was ovulating, Sadako would never have been reborn. Where had Mai gotten the tape?

  At Ryuji's place.

  Why had she gone there?

  Ryuji's article was missing a page.

  But was it really missing a page?

  Only Ryuji knows.

  Everything came back to Ryuji.

  Ryuji, Ryuji, Ryuji.

  He and Mai had been intimate. It wasn't strange if he knew her menstrual cycle. She'd been guided by him on that very day.

  Oh Lord…

  Ando looked at Miyashita's face, at his eyes narrowed with concern, and whispered, "It's Ryuji."

  Miyashita's eyes narrowed even further: he didn't understand.

  "Don't you see? It's Ryuji. He's been the one pulling the strings all along. He's behind Sadako."

  As Ando repeated the name, he felt his suspicions harden into certainty. Ryuji had been playing all of them. He'd written the script.

  Outside the window the sounds of the city at night eddied and swirled. A car passed by on the Metropolitan Expressway with a grating noise as if it were dragging something heavy behind it. Like fingernails on glass it sounded at first, then turned into loud male laughter, an eerie shriek coming from someplace far away. Ando thought it was Ryuji's voice.

  He called out to empty space. "Ryuji, are you there?"

  Naturally there was no reply. But Ando could sense him. Ryuji was present. The man who had joined forces with Sadako to hunt humanity for sport was in his room, watching how things went, laughing derisively at Ando for noticing too late to do anything about it.

  A light came on in Ando's head as he surmised what Ryuji wanted. Something he was unable to obtain without Ando's cooperation. Ryuji's occult motives were finally clear, but it didn't do Ando any good. It was too late, the course of events was beyond his influence. The only thing left for Ando to do was to join his voice with Ryuji's, with the chuckling in the dark.

  EPILOGUE

  On a day so clear it was hard to believe it was still the rainy season, Ando went to the beach. Two years ago to the day, at this very place, his son had died. It wasn't that Ando made a point of coming here on the anniversary. He hadn't come the year before. But today he had a reason to be here.

  Unlike two years ago, the waves today were gentle as they approached the shore. White sand stretched away on either side, and here and there anglers stood casting their lines. It was still early summer, and there were no bathers, only two or three families picnicking on plastic sheets.

  Ando felt as if he'd been transported back to that fateful day. The waves were different, and there was a seawall stretching out from the shore that hadn't been there before; even the contours of the dunes had changed. To Ando, however, everything was just as it had been. The last two years now seemed to him nothing but one long nightmare.

  He sat on an embankment from which he could look down over the beach. Sunlight as bright as midsummer's hit him full in the face. Shading his eyes with his hand, he squinted at a small figure playing at the water's edge. The figure didn't approach the water, but squatted in place, barefoot on dry sand, digging holes and making sand piles. Ando couldn't take his eyes off the figure.

  He thought he heard someone calling his name. Wondering if he'd imagined it, he looked around. He saw a stocky man who was walking along the top of the embankment, headed straight for Ando.

  The man wore a striped long-sleeve shirt buttoned right up to the top. The shirt looked about to burst; the man's chest and upper arms were amazingly well-muscled. His short neck was wrinkled above his painfully tight-looking collar. The man's blocky, angular face was sweaty, and he was out of breath as he approached, swinging a plastic bag from a convenience store.

  Ando recognized him. The last time he'd seen the man, it was at the medical examiner's office, back in October.

  The man sat down beside Ando, shoulder to shoulder with him.

  "Hey, long time no see."

  Ando didn't reply. He didn't even meet the man's eyes, but kept his gaze on the small figure playing near the waves.

  "Man, you just disappeared without telling me where you were going. What kind of way is that to treat a friend?" The man took a can of cold oolong tea from the bag, cleared his throat, and drank it dry in a few gulps. When he'd finished, he took out another can and offered it to Ando. "Thirsty?"

  Ando accepted the can silently and popped the ring pull.

  "How did you know I was here?" Ando asked calmly.

  "Miyashita told me that today was the anniversary of your kid's death. The rest was guesswork. You're not that hard to figure out," the man laughed.

  Ando had to restrain himself. "What do you want?"

  "Look, I had to take a train and a bus to get here. I think I deserve a warmer welcome than this."

  "Bullshit," Ando spat.

  "Ooh, don't be mean," the man said, a smirk playing over his lips.

  "Mean? Where do you get off calling me that? Who do you think is responsible for your being here?"

  "Listen, I'm grateful to you, I really am. You worked out just as I expected."

  Ando was reminded of just how far this man had manipulated him. In medical school, in their days playing at cryptography, this guy could toss out a code that Ando couldn't possibly break, and then turn around and immediately crack one Ando had wrung his brain to come up with. Ando had felt annoyed and frustrated, but also somehow inspired by the guy's cleverness. Not anymore. Now, he just felt used, and insulted. He found nothing to praise in the man.

  Ando looked over at Ryuji Takayama, whom he had helped bring back to the world. Ryuji was facing forward, and Ando looked at his profile, wishing he could see inside Ryuji's head. He wished he knew what this man was thinking. Then he remembered that last October he actually had laid his hands on the man's brain. Not that it helped him understand any of Ryuji's thoughts. And because he hadn't, he'd let Ryuji's codes lead him into a mess. If he hadn't performed Ryuji's autopsy, he would never have become involved.

  "Isn't this better for you, too?" Ryuji said in a patronizing tone.

  "I don't know about that." That was the truth.

  Down by the water's edge, the little figure stood up and waved at Ando. When he saw Ando make a beckoning motion with his head, the boy came closer, kicking sand as he came.

  "Daddy, I'm thirsty!"

  Ando offered his son the oolong tea Ryuji had given him. The boy took it and brought it quickly to his lips.

  Ando watched his son's pale throat. He could almost see the cool liquid coursing down the little throat. Living, moving flesh and blood.

  Compared to the sweat oiling Ryuji's face, the droplets
of perspiration rolling down the three-and-a-half-year-old boy's neck were like crystal. Ando could hardly believe they were basically the same fluid.

  "Hi there, kid. Want another one? We're two of a kind, you know," Ryuji said, fishing around in his bag.

  Two of a kind. The phrase stuck in Ando's craw. It was true, though: the boy and Ryuji had been born of the same womb. Ando found it utterly horrifying.

  His son looked at Ryuji and shook his head, then raised his half-finished can of tea and said, "Can I have the rest?"

  "Sure, drink up," said Ando, and the boy went back to the water's edge, swilling the can. Ando figured the boy wanted to play with the can after it was empty, maybe fill it with sand. Ando yelled after him, "Takanori!"

  The boy stopped and turned around. "What, Daddy?"

  "Don't go in the water yet, okay?"

  The boy grinned, and turned his back to him again.

  Ando didn't have to stress the point. The child was still afraid of the water, as if he remembered drowning. He probably wouldn't go into the water of his own accord. Even though he knew that, Ando couldn't help but be a little overprotective.

  "Cute kid."

  Ando didn't need Ryuji to tell him. Of course Takanori was cute. He was a jewel, an irreplaceable treasure that he'd lost once. A treasure that he'd betrayed the human race to recover. Ando still wasn't sure if he'd done the right thing.

  The reward Sadako had offered him in exchange for his help was to resurrect his son.

  Half a year ago, when he and Miyashita had read those words in the letter Sadako had left in his apartment, Ando had found the idea too ludicrous to accept. But that feeling had passed in an instant, and he'd become a firm believer in resurrection. After all, he had Sadako herself as living proof. And he had carefully preserved a sample of his son's DNA in the form of a lock of hair that he kept on the bookshelf. Without some cells from his son, the resurrection would have been impossible. If it weren't for the fact that Ando's hand had brushed against the boy's head in the sea, catching those few strands of hair in his ring, Takanori's genetic information would have been lost forever.