<span>Passage from "No.6", a japanese sci-fi novel by Atsuko Asano (translated in english by http://9th-ave.blogspot.com/)</span>
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In No. 6, those under forty years of age consisted the majority of the age demographic. It was a young city. Because of this, the odd elderly person she passed on the street stood out all the more sorely.
I'd do anything to avoid growing old.
She was sick of seeing obese, white-haired women; knobbly, wrinkly old men and the like.
The woman worked as a nurse in the Municipal Central Hospital, which was directly managed by the Health and Hygiene Bureau. She was currently in charge of the elderly wing. Despite the fact that she loathed them, she had to deal with the elderly every day.
Why do they bother even staying alive?
The woman swept a hand through her long, chestnut-brown hair which she prided herself upon. She couldn't bear the thought of this hair turning white, and having wrinkles and spots appear on her face. I'd rather die before I end up looking like that.
She was serious. No. 6 had top-notch terminal care. Some said that no other city could compare.
Once the elderly reached a certain age and received a notification from the city, they were entitled to live in a place called the Twilight Cottage, regardless of their social class, sex, or personal history.
The Twilight Cottage was an ideal facility that the city had built so that the elderly could spend the rest of their lives in abundance and comfort. People said it was like heaven for them: medical facilities for palliative care were a given; all things that threatened to hurt them, whether it be pain, suffering, or distress, were removed. It was a facility under direct control of the city, and from the woman's workplace at the Central Hospital, a few elderly people would be escorted to Twilight Cottage each week. It was not disclosed what age or what criteria determined when people were sent to the Cottage. Though not many, there were still some elderly who died from illness or unfortunate accident even before obtaining the right to live in the Twilight Cottage. That was why the elderly unanimously rejoiced upon receiving news of residency.
It was the same with the woman whose application for residency had passed yesterday. She was ill with a disease that had been declared incurable even by No. 6's stellar medical technology.
"I'm so glad. Now I can spend the rest of my few years in peace. I give my gratitude to God and the city for their compassion."
The woman, who had said she was a strong believer in God, had clasped her hands at her breast, and had murmured words of prayer before leaving the hospital wing.
The Twilight Cottage. The woman didn't know where it was located. The city had also not disclosed its address. But the woman had no interest whatsoever in the Twilight Cottage.
The woman hated elderly people. Her disgust was a side of the same coin of fear that she felt toward growing old herself. The woman was young and beautiful. She wanted to stay young and beautiful forever. Through her work, she had heard rumours that the city was focusing more than ever its medical research on understanding the mechanism of life. She had also heard that amongst that, the city was investing considerable funds in molecular research having to do with ageing.
If a drug to suppress ageing were to be developed ― if she could stay like this, and never grow old ― how splendid it would be. She wanted them to succeed soon, as soon as possible.
She was almost at the station. Her parents were waiting at home, in a little house in a town two stations away. A man and woman just entering their senior years, they were both harpy, neurotic, and pretentious. They still complained that their daughter had not been ranked highest by the city in any field. She didn't want to grow old like that.
The woman stepped into view of the reflective shop window. I'm on my way home from work, so I guess it can't be helped that I look a little tired. But, still beautiful. My hair, my skin ― still youthful, still beautiful.
She would do some shopping before going home. In the shop window, she could see the lavish dresses, tasteful shoes, and practical pantsuits that lined the store. In this city, she could attain whatever she desired. Of course, they were limited to things within her financial range.
Excluding the small part of the population that wallowed piteously in Lost Town, city residents had no problem obtaining everything they needed, as long as they weren't after the most premium-class things. They could obtain clothes, food, and residence without difficulty.
It wasn't nearly as good as it was for Chronos residents, but it was much better than the people of Lost Town. She lived a relatively comfortable life.
The woman was satisfied with her position. She wanted to enjoy more of her youth, her beauty, comfort, and the life that lay ahead of her.
Her feet stopped. A pair of shoes displayed in the window had caught her eye. They were light-pink pumps. Winter had just begun, but the spring collection was already being put out. The pink pumps glowed: there they were, earlier than any other store; faster than anyone else; ahead, ahead; forward, forward, they invited her.
The Holy Celebration was next week. It was a day that marked the founding of the city. Parties and celebratory events would be held all over town. The woman, too, was planning to attend two parties.
I'll buy these shoes. And I'll buy a light-peach dress to match. It'll look splendid on me, I just know it.
Just as a satisfied smile spread over her face, she was struck with a sudden dizziness. After her brief bout, the base of her neck grew hot.
What's wrong with me? ― I feel tired ― My body feels heavy.
Her legs felt weak. She felt nauseous.
I have to rest somewhere...
She entered an alleyway between two shops. There was supposed to be a clinic run by the Central Hospital through this alley.
I just have to get there...
Her neck was burning. She felt like there was something wriggling underneath her skin. She felt the unfamiliar and disturbing sensation of her body being wrung dry.
What―?
She staggered, and collapsed. Her purse flew open, and its contents scattered. The woman extended her hand to pick her things up, and screamed when she realized what she saw.
Spots ― black spots, like senile plaque, and several of them, were appearing. Her skin rapidly lost moisture and began to crack.
This can't be―what―what's happening―?
The woman snatched her mirror, and peered into it. She shrieked again. But her voice was hoarse, and what came out was barely a whisper.
My face― my face―
Her face, which had been so beautiful moments before, was changing rapidly before her eyes. Wrinkles creased her skin, spots marred it, and her hair began falling out.
Something wriggled at the base of her neck. There was something living inside her body. The woman, seized by fear, realized that her body was being taken over by something else.
No, help me― Mom―Dad― save me―
The faces of her mother and father appeared before her eyes.
Mom, Dad...
Her fingers, extended in plea, grasped thin air. Unconsciousness overcame her.
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-A REALLY LONG PASSAGE FROM MY FAVORITE NOVEL "NO.6"
I recommend everyone to try reading this novel! It's originally in japanese, but some websites/blogs like
http://9th-ave.blogspot.com/ and http://ninteenpointzerofour.wordpress.com/ have english translated version of it. It might be a little confusing at times (because of the japanese culture, etc.) it is still a great read. Try reading it!
