Hey Mortality Read online

  The monkey that was acting up had finally calmed down and the member of staff had disappeared.

  Duck Man continued on, “This is why I came here. I feel bad about all the experiments. Feel I owe these monkeys something more, something better. That’s why I bought this place.”

  “You own the park?” I had no idea

  “I do,” he said. “Bought it twenty years ago.”

  “Wow,” I said, not knowing what else to say.

  “Where was I? Oh yes. So after testing on the monkeys I eventually figured out how to send them back in time. I sent three monkeys back in all, the first one back thirty years. The second one I …”

  “Wait, what did you say?” I interrupted.

  “Which part?” he asked.

  “You sent a monkey back in time?”

  “Yes I did,” he stated matter-of-factly. “I can prove it.”

  I didn’t really know how to respond so I let him continue.

  “The problem with time travel though, is there is no coming back. A one way trip. When I published my papers on time travel, I was exposed as a quack and ridiculed as a physician. Nobody believed me, not one person. The paper I wrote never did see the public light of day, and my reputation was shattered. Perhaps they didn’t want what I wrote to get into the wrong hands, for fear that there would be serious consequences or people time travelling all over the place. Imagine the chaos. Either that or they outright didn’t believe my work.”

  “They didn’t believe your proof?”

  “I didn’t have any physical proof at the time. The real proof came later.”

  “I see,” I told him.

  “The official explanation I was given was that I had been expelled for promoting magical thinking.”

  “I see,” I told him once again.

  “This is where the name Duck Man comes from. Officially I am a quack,” he quacked.

  “So how do we get your research back?”

  “My research,” the Duck Man laughed again. “My research has long been destroyed. All I have left is the Time Stone.”

  “The Time Stone?”

  “Look, there is something I need you to do for me.”

  “Go on,” I said, hesitantly, as if already knowing where the conversation was going.

  “I need you to travel back in time thirty-eight years, and save my life.”

  ***

  When I was a child, I had always wanted to do something different with my life. Something to be remembered for or something that actually meant something. I think most children are like that too. We have such high aspirations for the future, or strive to become someone of power or fame. But when the Duck Man had mentioned time travel, that wasn’t really close to what I had imagined when I was young.

  After our meeting, I had told the Duck Man that I would think about his offer, and made an appointment to meet with him for a second time later that week. We had arranged to meet once again at the Monkey Park, to talk more about his proposal. I needed to take things in and give it a world of thought first.

  ***

  Back at the Ocean View Hotel, I sat in silence and allowed myself to be devoured by thoughts of time. I thought a lot about the possibilities that came with time travel. If what the Duck Man had told me was true, that I had to travel back in time to save his life, then that would be a great achievement, but, something about not being able to come back disturbed me slightly. I would perhaps be trapped in a time before I was born, thirty-eight years ago. What would I do? I suppose the opportunity would arise to save more lives. Perhaps I could forewarn people about some of the biggest natural disasters before they happened, give them time to evacuate their homes, save themselves. But would anyone believe me? And could I even change the timeline? Presumably everything happens the same anyway.

  After thinking about time until my head hurt, I decided what I needed was a drink. I headed out to the nearby supermarket and bought a bottle of whiskey, before returning to my hotel room and calling up Jun.

  “Hey man.”

  “Hey.”

  “So what happened? You meet with the mystery card man?” he asked.

  “I did. And it was strange.”

  “Strange? How so?”

  A one way trip. No coming back. Duck Man’s words echoed around my brain like a pinball trapped in a machine, endlessly bouncing around.

  “He has given me an opportunity to leave this world forever.”

  “You mean, like die?”

  “No, that isn’t what I mean. To leave here, this point, leave behind all of my friends, my family, my job. Let everything go and start again fresh elsewhere.”

  “You mean, like move to another country?”

  I couldn’t really explain it so well to Jun. Because he had suffered a large share of mental difficulties in the past, I didn’t feel comfortable mentioning time travel to him. It could have set off his imagination beyond repair, so instead I chose to lie to him.

  “Yeah, like move to another country,” I told him.

  “But you can still come back and visit Japan, right?”

  “Well, Jun, it’s actually more of a one way deal. I won’t be able to come back, and I won’t be able to have contact with anyone from this life ever again.”

  Jun became quiet, and the quietness stayed around for far too long. The other side of the phone offered no sounds, just a dark empty void of deathly silence.

  “Jun …”

  “Yeah, I’m just thinking. It sounds like a big decision.”

  “It is.”

  Jun returned to the void and said nothing for what felt like forever.

  “Jun?”

  “Yeah, I’m still here. Look, I have a quick story, if you have time?”

  “Sure, I have a lot of time.”

  “Many years ago, there was a boy, eight years old, perhaps nine. He lived in Kyōto with his mother, and he was the smartest child in his school, the top of his class. Somewhat antisocial, as you would expect from a boy with such intelligence.

  “One day, on the way home from school, the boy was kidnapped. A large sack thrown over his head, captured for no reason; suffering in darkness and taken from this world.

  “Over weeks, he was carried, tied in a sack on the back of a cart. From the sound of hooves on the road, the boy knew the cart was drawn along by horses. Every now and again, the cart would stop, and he would hear the voice of a man talking in a language he couldn’t make out. Muffled by the sack and shrouded by the darkness.

  “Eventually, the boy, who had not been fed for days, sadly died. It isn’t certain at what point in the journey he perished, but he was absolutely dead in a sack on the back of that cart.

  “Finally, the cart stopped at its destination. The man who had kidnapped the boy discovered that he was dead, and without emotion, picked him up and tossed him into the Sumida River. It was never discovered who the man was, or why he had chosen that special boy to be the victim of such a brutal crime.

  “After weeks of searching for her son, his mother eventually took the trip to Tokyo, to the Sumida River. At the river, dewdrops fell delicately from the trees above and created ripples on the surface of the water. From the point that the droplets hit, a huge bird emerged.

  “The bird was known as a Miyakodori, bird of the capital. A beautiful bird with a mix of green, blue, and orange feathers.

  “The bird spoke to the mother. ‘Your son is dead,’ it said, as if not caring. ‘He is the river now, the river, the water, the dewdrops, and the earth,’ added the bird, almost as an afterthought.

  “The mother started to cry. Her tears falling to the river below. Their ripples matching those falling from the leaves of the cherry blossom trees. With that, the Miyakodori spread its wings and drifted casually away. Like the mother’s son, never to be seen again.”

  “That it?” I asked.

  “The point is, the story has a lot of hidden meaning. Think for a moment which character in the story you would rather be?”

 
“Well, surely not the boy.”

  “But the boy has closure. He becomes one with the planet, his intelligence wasted on this wicked world. But okay, you don’t want to be the boy, then how about the kidnapper?”

  “Why would I be the kidnapper?”

  “Well, doesn’t he have the best outcome?”

  “What, murdering a child and forever living with the guilt?”

  “But he does get to be free. Isn’t that the whole point of living? And who is to say he suffers with guilt? He was probably just doing his job.”

  “Yeah, okay, but he is anonymous in our story. Another man without a face.”

  “I would rather have no face than to grieve the death of a child though,” Jun said.

  “Maybe the best character to be is the bird, the Miyaka …”

  “Miyakodori,” Jun corrected before I could get it completely wrong.

  “Yeah, the bird is not only beautiful, but it also gets to be free. To fly away from this world, or wherever it came from. It might never get to show its beauty to the world ever again, but its beauty remains forever within itself.”

  “Exactly,” Jun said.

  “Exactly?” I asked.

  “Exactly. Be the bird. Fly away.”

  ***

  After Jun’s conversation and all that had happened over the last few months, it felt like maybe flying away was the best option. But time travel, was it even possible? I wondered again.

  Back at the Monkey Park, the Duck Man was wearing the same cream coloured suit, but had chosen to leave his duck hat at home, if he even had a home. Oddly, I got the feeling that he was somehow trapped within the confines of the park. I could see then, without his hat on, that he was almost completely bald. Just a few whisks of grey hair remained on his head. He was wearing the same glasses as before, and when I arrived, he was staring off into space. He carried in his right hand a small rucksack.

  “This is for you,” he said, handing me the rucksack.

  The way he stood holding it before I arrived, suggested that it wasn’t very heavy, but when it left his hand and was passed into mine, it pulled my arm slightly, like it had been sucked in toward the ground by the gravity of its contents. The bag, it seemed, weighed more than a tonne. I placed the bag on the dirt by my feet.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “Time Stone,” he said.

  “Oh. But what if I decide not to go?”

  “You will go,” he said, as if not giving me any real choice.

  “Look,” I said, taking the subject away from time travel for a moment, “I wanted to know why me?”

  “I thought you would ask that. It’s like this, you were in my dream.”

  “Your dream?”

  “Yeah, a dream I had about a bridge. It was definitely you. Without a doubt.”

  “And you just happened to know my home address?”

  “That was in the dream too. Written in bright red ink on a cardboard sign,” he said.

  Part of my brain began fighting over whether he was telling the truth. How could he have known about the dream though? Another part of my brain still thought that Jun had something to do with this prank. I let my brain silently wrestle with itself for a time, before Duck Man started again.

  “So here’s how it works. You take the Time Stone down to the beach, place both your hands on the device. Visualise in your head that you absolutely want to travel back in time, as if picturing something you really want. And then you will be transported.”

  “Seems simple enough. But when I get there, what do I have to do? You said something about saving your life?”

  “That’s right. Don’t worry, you’ll figure everything out. I can’t tell you what you have to do. You figure it out and you do it. It’s as simple as that really.”

  He sounded convincing enough.

  “And if it doesn’t work?”

  Duck Man let out a slight chuckle, before holding it back, “Don’t worry,” he said, “I have faith.”

  “And after that, I am trapped in another time. How do I survive? How do I make money?”

  Duck Man smiled, “Don’t you see? You will be thirty-eight years in the past. It’s simple. You know who wins at soccer or baseball, about events in history, about companies on the stock market that had massive successes. Bet, gamble, and speculate. You can’t lose when you know how the dice will land.” It was an interesting plan. “You can be the next Warren Buffett.”

  “Warren who?”

  “Never mind,” he said, “listen, there is one more thing I have to tell you. Whatever you are wearing, touching, or anything you have in your pockets when you make the leap, will travel with you. In the bag, I have left you with fake identification and enough money to see you through initially. Use that to your advantage, as it’s all you’ll have. Also take some clothes, or you’ll be stuck with just one outfit.”

  “Like you,” I said.

  “Yeah, like me,” Duck Man said, letting out a wry smile.

  “Okay, I think I’ve got it.”

  “Good to hear,” he said. “Any questions?”

  “Why Beppu?”

  “Beppu is full of natural healing springs. Lush mountainous views. Clean air. It keeps me healthy, keeps me alive. You will see when you take the leap that I am not a healthy person. I need places like this to sustain me. For some reason, this area has magical healing properties of sorts.”

  “I see,” I said, thinking his reasoning was almost sound, except for the magical part. Then again, I was planning to travel through time, so I suppose magic was far from impossible.

  “Anyway, the park closes in five minutes, and I have monkeys to feed. It was very nice to meet you,” he said, extending me his hand.

  “Likewise,” I said, extending him mine.

  “See you in thirty-eight years ago,” Duck Man said, as he flashed me his familiar grin.

  “Goodbye,” I said, picking up the heavy bag, before walking back down the mountain path alone.

  ***

  I didn’t check the contents of the rucksack back at the hotel room, instead, I placed it under my bed to keep it safe, before going for some magical hot spring energy. Afterwards, I bought a six pack of beer and took it back to my room. Drinking, watching trashy twenty-first century television for the last time in a while, before being cast away into the net of sleep.

  ***

  The next morning when I woke up the television was still on, showing some random game show featuring people dressed as sumo wrestlers being propelled down water slides. The camera captured every inch of fear on their faces, while a studio audience laughed.

  I took the bag out from under the bed and examined the contents. There was a birth certificate, a passport, a driver’s licence, a thick pile of banknotes, and an odd looking black sphere. I lifted up the sphere, it was small, round, about half the size of a bowling ball, but weighed up to four times as much. The surface was polished, smooth, and shone a thick black, blacker than darkness itself. Etched into the sphere was what looked like a pictogram of a coiled snake. This would be my time machine, I thought to myself. Not quite what I had been expecting.

  I grabbed some clean clothes from my own rucksack and stuffed them into the Duck Man’s bag. I shaved, showered, brushed my teeth, put on my shoes and my coat, picked up the bag, and headed to the door. Before I left though, a sudden urge washed over me. I had to call Lucy. One last phone call before I was gone forever.

  I picked up the phone, dialled the number for an outside line, before entering Lucy’s cell phone number.

  “The person you are calling is on the phone. Please leave a …” I hung up before the voice had a chance to end. I waited one minute and tried again, but was greeted by the same familiar automated voice. Ah well, I sighed, perhaps it was never meant to be.

  ***

  I waited until the evening and headed to the beach, just as Duck Man had suggested. I placed the bag beside me on the sand and stared out into the ocean for what could have been a sin
gle short minute, but might have been an hour. I took the black Time Stone and placed it in front of me, before taking the money and important documents from the bag and stuffing them into the pockets of my coat.

  Next, I hung the rucksack over my shoulder, knelt down on the sand, placed both hands on the Time Stone, and closed my eyes. I pictured myself travelling through time, taking the leap. Above me, I could hear the distinct sound of seagulls drifting around looking for their next meal. In the distance, I could hear the lapping of ocean waves as they crashed softly into the beach. Nothing else happened. My eyes remained closed, surrounded by darkness. I stayed like that for a while, trying my best to visualise the past. I questioned exactly what it was I was doing. On this beach, with my hands on a black stone, thinking that somehow my life will be transported to a place before I was ever alive, a place that never existed for me. Where was it exactly that I was supposed to be going? Was this even going to work? I asked myself as I waited, taking in the smell of the ocean, the sounds of the sea. The beeping of distant hospital machinery.

  ***

  My head was filled with dizziness and my face hurt. As my eyes slowly opened and adjusted to the brightness of white hospital lights, I realised that something had happened. I looked around me as things started to come into focus. Bright strip lights were suspended from the ceiling and spread forever down a corridor that looked to never end. Around my knees and scattered across the otherwise immaculate white floor, were grains of sand. It was as though I had brought the entire beach with me. Pieces of sand, removed from the hourglass of time and spread here, across the hospital floor.

  I stood up, and as I did, I felt my head spinning on and on like an old record from The Beatles. The needle spinning until the end of time, trapped in the run-off groove, forever playing snippets of sound following A Day in The Life. A record that never ends, a headache that never ends.

  I decided that time travel felt a lot like a hangover. A broken memory, not knowing where you are when you wake up, dizziness, and as has often happened to me, waking up surrounded by grains of sand from an unknown beach.