“That sounds nice,” his wife said tactfully. The company just gave him another promotion. “Was that another call from your brother?” she said. She stared at the ceiling puffing for breath.
“I won’t tell Dad.” Tsuyoshi cut the connection and the screen went dark. “Don’t tell Dad,” Tsuyoshi’s brother said. Tsuyoshi’s wife stirred uneasily on the futon. “That always works for me,” Tsuyoshi said. I can’t just wander away from everything that I know, and trust to the kindness of strangers.” “But I can’t go through with it,” his brother wailed. A long vacation is just what you need! Besides, the Americans are real friendly since they gave up their handguns.” “That sounds much better! America is a good vacation spot. Nothing much ever happens there, either.” “Well … maybe religion won’t work for me. You’re a section chief for a big import-export company.” “Listen, older brother,” Tsuyoshi said, “you’re not a religious man by nature. It’s beautiful, and it’s peaceful, and nothing ever happens there.
No computers, no phones, no faxes, no e-mail, no overtime, no commuting, nothing at all. “The monks there, they know about people in trouble, people who are burned out by modern life. “Last week I went out to a special place in the mountains … Mount Aso,” his brother confided. It’s just the way that Japanese business used to be, back in the good old days.” There are rules to follow, and rewards that make sense. “Life in a monastery sounds truly good to me. I’m serious! I want to renounce this whole modern world.” Women never understand me.” He shuddered. “You should get married,” Tsuyoshi offered. No matter how loyal you are to the big companies, they have no loyalty to their employees anymore. His big brother had always been a decent sort, before he had gone through the elite courses at Waseda University, joined a big corporation, and gotten professionally ambitious. He didn’t like these late-night videophone calls, but he felt obliged to listen. In the background, a middle-aged office lady was singing karaoke, badly. He was making the call from a bar somewhere in Shibuya.
“It’s only a career,” said Tsuyoshi, sitting up on his futon and adjusting his pajamas. His older brother’s face was shiny with sweat from a late-night drinking bout. Tsuyoshi Shimizu looked thoughtfully into the screen of his pasokon.
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