One Man said to the Other

The heat is oppressive, as the scene opens onto two men who are obviously going to die lying on the steps of the First National Bank of Hiroshima. From their clothing and the fact that the building is on fire we can determine that this scene is one of post-atomic death. We listen in on the conversation between the two men…

“I don’t know if you’re going to even understand what I’m saying,” says the first man to the second. The first man is bleeding and is clearly going to die from blood loss, while the second man has a kind of glazed look in his eyes and is non-responsive. “Nonetheless,” continues the first man in labored Japanese “I am going to talk to you. There may not even be a point, because whatever I say to you is going to be different for you than it is for me. Every story I’ve ever told my children has been different from the words I use to tell the story. Each story has taken on a new meaning for them.”

As the roof of the bank collapses, the man continues: “I’m not even that important, it must be pretty uninspiring to be lying here next to an assistant sushi chef while you die. But I had big plans, you know. I was slowly saving up my money and I was at the bank today to get a loan approved so I could open up my own restaurant. It wouldn’t be the best place in Japan, but it might be the best in the city. My son would work there and manage the restaurant when I became to old to do anything other than make sushi. Doesn’t look like that’s going to happen does it?

“But you know what? I can’t even say that I don’t care any more, because I still do. I wonder if my wife and son survived. I wonder if our newly conceived child is going to have any kind of a life to live. I sit here and wonder what you are thinking, you don’t respond to me, but I can’t help but wonder what you’re thinking”

The two lapse into silence for a while as the first man fidgets. He tries to roll over, and we realized that his legs are pinned to the ground by a large chunk of concrete. The first man speaks again “why don’t you answer me? I’ve told you about my family, and you haven’t even given me your name. I guess anonymity in death is not the worst way to go, but you would think that you would at least have the courtesy to answer me you bastard. Why are you taking this from me? I just wanted one last conversation before I die, yes, one last conversation because we’re both going to die, you know. I’m no doctor but I’m starting to feel light headed from all this blood loss and you’re shirt is stained red from the blood.”

He falls into silence again as he tries to decide what he’s going to do about this hopeless situation. He struggles a little with the concrete and shifts it a little. The concrete the slowly slides down the steps, accompanied with the first man’s agonized screams, it is slowly tearing off his foot. Before the shock can set in, the man has started coughing blood and his food is lying five feet from him. He stares in complete disbelief. “How the fuck could this happen to me?” He asks, but receives no answer. Suddenly all of the pain and fear have acted as catalysts and he lunges for the other man. He’s on top of him, spitting on him and punching him over and over in the face. The other man doesn’t respond, he seems content to take the beating as a last insult.

The first man collapses on top of him and starts to sob, for it’s all over and he knows it. He tells the second man so and wonders aloud “why will you still not speak to me? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have hurt you.” He checks the second man’s pulse and says what he knew he would have to say “Goodbye,” said one man to the other.