Somersault (40 page)

“Even for those of us who once opposed Patron and Guide with all our might, Patron remains an indispensable person. What I’ve said here is not just an answer to your question but a response to Patron’s sermon from those members of the radical faction who participated in today’s memorial service.”

2

After speaking with so much emotion, Dr. Koga’s expression indicated he was finished, yet the woman reporter wasn’t about to let him off so easily.

“At the memorial service I noticed you too prayed silently for Guide,” she remarked. “But being a doctor, don’t you feel some responsibility for what happened? You must have known that Guide had had a brain aneurysm before, and it must have been common knowledge among your circle that they would interrogate him for that long.”

Dr. Koga had been sitting up straight, but now, like a weasel, he raised his head even higher as he answered. “I believe what you’re asking is, Do I feel responsible for the results of things done by a group I’ve been associated with for a long time? As you said, I am a physician, but even if I were a brain specialist it would be difficult to know, just by looking at a person, if he were likely to have a burst aneurysm. In fact, it might be impossible.”

“Could you answer the question more directly?”

“I don’t know if this is what you’re looking for,” Dr. Koga replied, “but as someone who knew Guide for a long time, I feel more sadness at his death than responsibility. Guide responded to the former radical faction’s invitation to talk because he believed that even if he were destroyed, his death would directly link up with what came afterward: his hopes for Patron’s restarting his movement. Which led me to want to participate in it.”

The woman reporter was clearly unsatisfied, but the other reporter took over the questioning.

“At the time of the Somersault,” he said, “in the television announcement—or perhaps I should
say performance
—what impressed me most about what Patron said was this: Although they continued their movement with the idea that the end time was coming in two or three years, he said that nobody seriously believed it. And while they were trying to get humanity to repent, those two or three years passed and people decided they were just a bunch of dummies and laughed at them like it was a joke that took forever to get to the punch line.

“I think it’s important for the former radical faction members, as well as everyone who plans to join this new movement of Patron’s, to remember his argument in the Somersault. Even now, as an antichrist, if Patron once again declares that the end of the world is near, can you go along with this?”

Dancer responded. “It’s true that in the past Patron predicted the end of the world in two or three years and called for repentance. At the time of the Somersault he said this was a joke, that the end was greatly delayed. Does starting the new movement mean he’s once again setting back the timetable for the end of the world? That’s what you’re laughing at, right? But is that what he preached at today’s memorial service?

“After all that time he spent in hell, I don’t think he’s saying there should be another Somersault and we should all pretend the earlier one never took
place. He was talking about a much more important problem than the amount of time that will elapse before the end of the world. We found his ideas quite moving, and we’ve recommitted ourselves to following him. And not just those of us who work with him every day. That’s essentially what the women’s group said as well.”

“We’ll have to wait to see what your new movement is all about before we can give an objective opinion about whether this is another Somersault or not,” the reporter said. “I’d like to ask one more brief question, if you don’t mind, and I’d appreciate it if you’d respond briefly so we can quote it in the newspaper: Why now—after Aum Shinrikyo—has Patron returned?”

Dancer motioned for Ogi to answer.

“Patron believes that if there hadn’t been a Somersault ten years ago,” Ogi said, “the church, with the radical faction leading it, would have ended up just like Aum. And if that happened our church, again like Aum, would have been attacked and destroyed. Patron needed to send out a message of healing for his followers. Also, he wants to put into practice a teaching that will soothe all the young people hurt by Aum Shinrikyo.
That’s
one reason why now, after the Aum affair, Patron has revived his movement.”

“Do you plan to reach out directly to people belonging to Aum?”

“No. When I say young people hurt by Aum, I’m not just referring to members of the cult. Our movement will have a broader appeal.”

“Logically, then,” the reporter persisted, “your broad appeal
would
allow former Aum members to join. And if that happens, wouldn’t they be involved in a joint struggle with former radical-faction members who’ve helped Patron restart his movement, which would only put the authorities on edge?”

Dr. Koga fielded this one. “Maybe I shouldn’t poke my nose into this, but since you said former radical-faction members are helping Patron and I’m one of them, I’ll try to respond. I have no way of knowing how the authorities or the police feel. But the Aum Shinrikyo’s understanding of Armageddon and our own concept of armed struggle are completely different. We were calling on society—the country—the world—to repent. One step in doing this was to occupy a nuclear power plant and get the attention of those who weren’t listening.

“One clear difference between us and Aum was that, as our movement calling for repentance progressed and we blew up a nuclear plant, it would be very obvious that those participating in the operation did not intend to survive. Even if young people from Aum had participated, as long as they still accepted the teaching that they would survive Armageddon, I doubt they’d have gone along with our ideas. Because we put our own lives on the line.”

“If the plan by the radical faction to occupy a nuclear power plant had been realized, wouldn’t this have been even more dangerous than the Aum sarin gas attack?” This was asked, in a fit of indignation, by another reporter who up till then had remained silent. “If neither side takes a good hard look at their past, and the radical faction takes part in Patron’s new movement, people won’t stand for it. Haven’t we learned anything from Aum? There’s no way this should be allowed.”

“
Who
won’t stand for it? And what are they going to do?” Ikuo declared. Ogi could feel the mood of the gathering change. Ikuo didn’t speak rudely or in a loud voice, but there was something in the way he delivered these questions that flouted the basic rules of this gathering.

Ikuo fell silent, his strong neck thrust out as he awaited a reply. As if he’d been treated in a violent, outrageous manner, the reporter turned bright red behind his oval-framed glasses. He may also have been feeling some pressure from the room next door, separated from this lounge by only a thin plywood wall, for at the same time as this press conference was going on there was a banquet in the dining room for those who’d helped prepare and run the memorial service, one that included many members of the security squad.

At times Ogi felt Dancer’s plans were overly clever, but he had to admit that using the two rooms in this way was a stroke of genius. Actually he found it strange that after the memorial service, when the reporters were dissatisfied—in a fighting mood, even—about having their question-and-answer session attenuated, things had proceeded so peacefully that a question like Ikuo’s stood out. The reporters’ reticence might very well have been affected by the knowledge that among the people next door, who were trying to keep their voices clown and not laugh, were those whose intimate companions had murdered the very man they were gathered to commemorate.

3

After a period of silence, Ogi was surprised again when Ms. Tachibana stood up, showing what must have been unusual fortitude on her part. Her younger brother, the one with mental disabilities, sat next to her, his face as tense as if he were the one about to speak.

“My brother and I were not followers of the church,” Ms. Tachibana began. “At the time of Patron and Guide’s Somersault we merely watched from outside with great concern. Still, we were surprised by what they said. In the Somersault, Patron said he wasn’t serious about the world ending in two or three years. Are you saying, then, it’ll come sooner? someone asked,
making fun of him. For me it’s rather that question itself which I found unexpected.

“With Patron in the lead, we’re facing the end of the world and doing all we can to repent. Even now I am constantly thinking of my soul and my brother’s. The timing of when the end comes isn’t as important as the fact that we are—
right now
—repenting as the world draws to an end.

“Before a chance meeting opened my eyes to Patron’s teachings, my brother and I went to a different church, a church founded on Saint Peter’s having seen and talked to the resurrected Jesus. After we attended this church for several years I began to feel that the people there didn’t have a genuine sense of repentance. My brother and I—I understand very well what my brother is thinking, by the way—sought a deeper level of repentance and found we couldn’t stand being there, because people didn’t see repentance as a pressing concern.

“After a time something happened that led us to distance ourselves from the church. A Bible study class for beginners started and I asked special permission for my brother and me to attend. My brother couldn’t really understand how, three days after his crucifixion, Christ rose again. When he stubbornly persisted in this, he was scolded by the priest.

“I gathered my courage and told the priest that I believe it’s true that on a certain day in history Jesus rose again, but also in myself, right now, I feel he’s arisen. That’s what I feel as I pray. My brother can’t put this into words, I went on, and perhaps doesn’t even think in terms of words, but every time I have a friend play the music he’s composed, I can see Jesus risen right now in his heart.

“When I said this the priest looked shocked and told me the two of us are Gnostic heretics. The religious aficionados there started laughing. My brother hates this—it’s literally painful for him, actually: people laughing at something he doesn’t understand—and he slammed the desk, scandalizing everyone. We never went back.

“My brother and I both feel that the end of the world is the same as Jesus’ crucifixion and resurrection—it’s both something that happens at a certain point in time in history and also an event that is
always with us
. If not, then the inevitable end of the world will have meaning for those who experience it but none for those who died beforehand.

“When my brother and I feel repentance, we feel as if we’re seeing the end of the world clearly right in front of our eyes. And we see Patron, looking down on the frightening scene at the end of the world, holding our hands as we ascend into heaven. I’m not much of a speaker, and I don’t think I can convey what I feel, but if you listen to the composition my brother wrote called
‘Ascending to Heaven,’ I believe you’ll be able to feel the joy of passing away as Patron holds your hand.

“This joy is not an intellectual exercise for my brother. He’s a simple soul, but he expresses with great vividness the joy of ascending to heaven. He’s able to do this, I think, because at the very moment of composition he’s ascending to heaven hand in hand with Patron.”

Ms. Tachibana touched the shoulder of her brother, who didn’t have binocular vision and whose eyes, while wide open, were wall-eyed. Her brother picked up a medium-sized cassette recorder he’d had on his lap and, with unexpectedly graceful movements of his surprisingly beautiful fingers, set it in motion.

Until the music actually started, Ogi was anxious. If the music was childish, he thought, that would be understandable, but if it turned out to be something incredibly dull that would be even worse. But the low but piercing piano music invited one to smile with unalloyed joy.

When the tape was finished, the bug-faced reporter whose pronouncements had been interrupted by Ikuo—now with an even more insectlike, poker-faced look on his face—made the following comment.

“I understand that this music depicts the feeling of having Patron lead one by the hand into heaven, but it’s a very short piece, isn’t it, taking less than two minutes for the ascent? At any rate, I’m not given any space in the music review section of the paper, but I think it’d be difficult to convince readers if I wrote that a mentally handicapped person had had a mystical experience while he strung together bits of Bach or Mozart.”

Ogi watched as Ikuo rose to his feet, as if he were danger incarnate.

“It’s obvious that, along with your reference to his being mentally handicapped, you look down on the composer, Mr. Morio Tachibana. You said he’s using bits of Bach or Mozart—well, which is it? And from which works?”

The reporter again ignored Ikuo’s questions. Ms. Tachibana’s brother, undaunted by Ikuo’s earsplitting delivery, looked as if he was straining to hear the reporter’s reply.

4

Thus the press conference fizzled to a close. On the way out, Ogi overheard the dark-skinned reporter speak to Dancer, whom he’d gotten to know, and what he said struck Ogi as entirely reasonable.

“I understand that Patron will be restarting his movement,” the reporter said, “but there doesn’t seem to be any shared point of view among his followers.
Though I suppose if I put Patron’s sermon and the comments of the communal women’s group together I can come up with some sort of article.”

After seeing the members of the press to the side entrance, and thanking the security staff, who, along with Dr. Koga, were about to leave, Ogi stuck his head in the dining hall. The partition was back in place, and in a corner of the wall next to the window there was an upright piano. Ms. Tachibana and her brother had brought over folding chairs and sat facing each other. Ikuo was standing beside them, talking with Ms. Tachibana’s brother.