NEWYORKMIININGDISASTER

    ByMURAKAMIHaruki

    TranslatedbyPhilipGabriel

    Theyblewouttheirlampstosaveonair,anddarknesssurrouhem.Noonespoke.Alltheycouldhearinthedarkwasthesoundofwaterdrippingfromtheceilingeveryfiveseds.

    “O.K.,everybody,trynottobreathesomuch.Wedon’thaveenoughairleft,”anoldminersaid.Heheldhisvoicetoawhisper,butevensothewoodenbeamsontheceilingofthetunnelcreakedfaintly.Inthedark,theminershuddledtogether,strainingtohearonesound.Thesoundofpickaxes.Thesoundoflife.

    Theywaitedforhours.Realitybegaawayinthedarkness.Everythiofeelasifitwerehappeningalongtimeago,inaworldfaraway.Orwasithappeningiure,inadifferentfar-offworld?

    Outside,peoplewerediggingahole,tryingtoreachthem.Itwaslikeasefromamovie.

    Afriendofminehasahabitofgoingtothezoowhehere’satyphoon.He’sbeendoingthisfortenyears.Atatimewhenmostpeopleareclosiormshuttersorrunningourtostoineralwaterorchegtoseeiftheirradiosandflashlightsarew,myfriendshimselfinanarmy-surpluspontheVietnamWar,stuffsacoupleofsofbeerintohispockets,asoff.Helivesaboutafifteen-minutewalkaway.

    Ifhe’sunlucky,thezooisclosed,“owingtoiweather,”anditsgatesarelocked.Whenthishappens,myfriendsitsdownooueofasquirrelotheentrance,drinkshislukewarmbeer,andthenheadsbae.

    Butwhenhemakesitthereintimehepaystheentrancefee,lightsasoggycigarette,andsurveystheanimals,onebyone.Mostofthemhaveretreatedtheirshelters.Somestareblanklyattherain.Othersaremoreanimated,jumpingaroundinthegale-fords.

    Somearefrightehesudde