The magwind

January 11th, 2009 by Joel | Posted in Kitch |

The last maglev train of the night slid through the once-thriving section of Tokyo called Akihabara as it accelerated northward. At one time the center of all electronics in Japan, the declining area–which had been known as “Electric Town” in its heyday–still displayed neon signs in virtually every direction. Some of the signs still lit up, occasionally if not randomly, supplied by power coming from no one really knew where. A scrolling marquee for a ramen shop sputtered in and out of existence, sporadically promising the best noodles around. Halfway up the side of a skyscraper, a digital billboard for a defunct hostess bar was illuminating only the impossible breasts of a cartoon girl that looked about fourteen, as if the urge which created them had outlasted all others into the recesses of the night.

A few long seconds after the last car of the train had passed, the inevitable gust of wind which accompanied it followed, gusting down the near-empty streets, picking up cigarette butts and blowing plastic liquor bottles to points unknown. The few people still awake and on the streets unconsciously held down loose articles until the short but violent blow passed. The visible homeless did not so much as stir, all belongings safely secured as part of daily routine.

As the baritone echoes of the magwind wound down and faded from perception, the remaining silence seemed to amplify the buzzing of dying neon and the distant thrum of life in parts more alive than here.

In the magnified lull, a lone, dark figure turned a corner and walked down a side street. Those sleeping or otherwise inebriated in storefronts and doorways barely noticed. The walker had a hood pulled up and, despite wearing non-reflective boots that looked military, hardly made a sound. Passing a boarded up and police-taped arcade, the tall figure cut into an alley. Scanning the alley with two quick snaps of the hood, the silhouette took one running step and leapt three meters up, grabbing hold of the bottom rung of a fire escape ladder, and began climbing hand over hand. Not a sound had been made. If one were to look close, the ladder was nowhere near as dilapidated as it surroundings.

After a rapid climb to a height of thirteen stories, the figure touched the wall on the left side of an emergency window, which proceeded to swing inwards with a pneumatic hiss, the first true sound of the figure’s passing. A minute tensing of the shoulder blades expressed the figure’s distaste. This, however, did not stop the dark form from ducking through the large window and entering the thirteenth floor.

The automatic window/entry hissed closed behind.