AFTERWORD

The complex I’ve lived in for five years is an iron-enforced five-story building three buildings away from the railroad, so even with my window closed, I constantly hear the muffled sounds of the railroad crossing alarm and the trains passing by. When I started living here, the noise drove me crazy, but now it’s completely become a part of my life, and I let the sounds go by like background music. (But I can’t get used to the dreadful singing that comes from the Japanese ballad karaoke at the snack bar diagonally across from me every night, as if it’s cursing the world; I wish they would spare me that.)

Pleased to meet you. I’m Yukako Kabei.

This work received acclaim I couldn’t have even hoped for in the form of the grand prize in the ninth Dengeki Game Novel Awards, and, maybe because I wrote it while listening to the sounds of the first morning train after staying up all night in an eight-tatami one-room apartment, it’s a story with a decayed sort of tone, that mainly takes place on a train trip. It’s also a story about a girl with a complicated personality and a man who hates doing anything, getting together and being separated, and about a man who’s tired of living regaining purpose in life.

Wasted planets, steampunk, old-fashioned radios, rusty machines, old oil. It would make me as happy as I could be if all of you who like dilapidated things and react to that kind of vocabulary like this book. Of course, I would be so much more happy if all of you who aren’t like that like it, too.

Now then, for this to become a book as it has, I really did receive a lot of assistance from many people. I would like to use this space to express my gratitude.

To everyone who supported me, from the time the work was selected to its completion as a book, starting with the honorable people on the selection committee who gave me this chance. I was honestly surprised to find out how many people worked directly and indirectly in order to make this one book, especially the following:

Taue-san, my contemporary, who drew such wonderful illustrations that the story can’t hold a candle to them. (It’s true. I’m in trouble.) When he showed me the roughs, I would always okay Kieli right away, but I would give him hard-to-understand requests about Harvey, like “He’s too clean-cut; make him dirtier and more sloppy, slovenly, and scruffy,” but he never complained and met my requests.

Everyone around me who supported me in my dangerous mental state while I was working on writing my submission, and Reiko-neesan from Mexico who always helps me out. I’ve really made you worry, but since I’ve started being able to write novels as a legitimate form of work, I’ve started legitimately neglecting my health, and I’m the same failure at life as always. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll be careful.

The people at the coffee shop three stations away where I do most of my writing. I’ve troubled you unreasonably by coming in every weekend and sitting there with my laptop for five, six hours. I still do.

And finally, of course, to you, who are holding this book, I give you my highest thanks. I hope I get a chance to see you again.

Yukako Kabei