Josh: Tourist Trap

He's here.

For the first time since we began this archive, the actual date is the same as the one on the time stamp at the top of this post. It is Wednesday, February 25th, 2009.

At 6:31 P.M. ("That's 18:31 in military time." Thank you, Yoshida) last night a Carnival cruise ship docked as scheduled in Kyoto harbor for a sightseeing tour. Then at midnight, another enormous cruise ship docked, surprising the harbor master as it was completely unscheduled. Finally, just before dawn this morning, a third cruise liner docked, with other boats having to make a mad scramble to accommodate it. The event was unheard of, unprecedented and upsetting to everyone on the dock but the brothers Yoshida, who were the only ones who knew exactly what was happening.

The call went out. Cars were dispatched for Mary, Yoshida and I, and at Hitoshirezu-jo, they began the final preparations for battle.

Precisely at dawn, the gangplanks on all three ships went down, and the massive cruise lines disgorged their contents as thousands of gray and blue-haired, overweight, Hawaiian shirt-wearing tourists grinning ear-to-ear streamed down into the streets of Kyoto, marching into the rising sun.

The brothers Yoshida had positioned spies down at the port to report the enemy's movements, and they said that whenever a native would approach a tourist and ask them if they needed assistance or wanted to make a purchase, the tourist would merely lift up their camera, flash a few shots of something at random and keep walking. This would satisfy the questioner that the elderly tourist was where they were supposed to be, and on the off-chance that it didn't, one or another of the tourist group-leaders would step over to the native, whisper a few kind words in their ear and invite them to join the processional.

After their little chat, the native seemed quite happy to do just that.

They walked slowly but surely to the castle. It will take them hours, but they don't seem to mind.

Mary and I packed quickly, and soon our car had arrived to take us away to Hitoshirezu-jo. Before we left I pulled her close and kissed her, taking one final, wistful look at our apartment. In the past couple of months it had become home. While the waiting for battle had been stressful at points, it had also been, without question, the most wonderful time of my entire life.

I peered around nostalgically while Mary fretted about whether it was clean enough to leave.

"Mary, in all probability the world's about to end. Is it that important that you didn't scrub the grout in the shower?"

She ignored me, going about her last minute-tidying and finally noticed a small box on the table by the front door. Mary picked it up, stared at it quizzically and ran a finger over the black felt on top. She opened it. She looked at me.

"It's a ring."

I nodded.

She came and put her arms around me, gently, her eyes filling with tears. We stood there holding each other close while the doorbell rang again and again and the smiling armies of the enemy advanced upon us, neither of us wanting to let go.

Finally we wiped our tears, gathered the last of our things, gave an awkward little bow to our apartment and headed down to the car.


We stopped to pick up Yoshida, and when he got to the car his shirt was mis-buttoned down the front, with one side sticking up higher than the other, there was a glob of peanut butter on his chin and his fly was open. In other words, he was only slightly more disheveled than normal.

"You okay, buddy?"

He nodded as he sat down across from us and began chewing his nails. "I know there are other instances of that year that I'm missing. 1831. It is like one of your Easter egg hunts: I feel as though I will be punished for not finding them all."

Mary smiled. "That's not how Easter egg hunts work."

Yoshida ignored her. "More time. It's all ending. I just wanted more time. Is that a new ring?"

She beamed, extending her hand to show him. "I know it doesn't have a diamond and it has an unusual design. And I know it's a bit larger than a normal engagement ring. Don't say anything about it being different." Mary began to scowl. "Don't say anything mean. In fact, don't say anything." Finally she added with a warning glare, "Just say 'congratulations'."

"Congratulations."

Mary smiled again. "Thank you."

I cleared my throat. "Yoshida, I'd like you to be my best man."

Both he and Mary turned to me with the same astonished expressions, saying simultaneously, "You would?"

I shrugged. "Everyone else I know is dead. Besides, I think you would give the most staggeringly awkward best man toast since the invention of human speech. I can't wait to hear it." After a moment he mumbled that he would be deeply honored, and we all settled in for the ride to the castle, with me writing this post on my Blackberry as we went.

With her head resting on my shoulder, Mary gazed down at her ring and asked innocently, "Where did you get the design?"

"Uh... well, it was Galadriel's ring from 'Lord of the Rings'. It was kind've a last minute thing..."

She pulled away, giving me a deadly look. "'Lord of the Rings'? And this writing on the inside, what does it say?"

Now I was squirming. "Yeah... probably something about Sauron. I'm not really sure. It's in Elvish."

Mary stared at me, shaking her head, her mouth open. Her face began to get red and I glanced up to see Yoshida was pointing his phone at us again ("Why?" I asked him later. "She was either going to have sex with you or murder you. Either way, I wanted a copy.") She started to say something, then took a deep breath, looked back down at the ring and finally laughed.

She gave me a sloppy kiss, talking and giggling all at the same time. "It's ridiculous and wildly inappropriate and one-of-a-kind and I have never in my life loved anything more."

Josh: No, No, You Really Shouldn't Have

Merry Christmas!!!

Oh, that's right, the damn time stamps are still way off. Well, it's the day after Christmas and we're still alive. Mary has been continuing her training with the naginata and the bow and arrow, and she's doing awesome. Plus, after a training session she has that whole, "I'm sweaty and jazzed up and I could cut you in half with this spear/sword thing", and whoa, nellie, is that a turn-on.

Meanwhile, to try and keep up I started joining her in classes. I know I'll be busy with the Magician's knife and the charms in the fight, but I figured it's never too late to learn something new. However, after two lessons Mary's sensei decided that it actually was too late after I accidentally fired an arrow into a portrait of his late mother, so now I just sit on the sidelines and cheerlead for Mary.

Here's a terrifying story from yesterday: Mary and I were snuggling up just after we opened our presents (video games, comics and DVD's for me, lingerie, perfume and a huge, signed "Road House" movie poster for her. Yeah, she gave me that look, too) when our doorbell rang and we welcomed in Emperor Komei's right-hand man and interpreter, Fukimitsu. He and an elderly servant bowed, the servant holding a large, wrapped box with a golden bow on top.

We offered them some tea, made ourselves comfortable, and Mary asked, "So forgive my asking the question, Fukimitsu-san, but if you and the Emperor despise everything that is not from Japan, how is it that you know how to speak English?"

His perpetual smile widened as he said, "Like Kisho Yoshida, I was not always privy to the true nature of the universe. I grew up under normal circumstances here in Kyoto, and it was only upon my eighteenth birthday that the divine Emperor revealed to me the truth about the outside world and the gaijin."

I poured myself some tea and sat down next to Mary, snuggling in on the couch. "Why you? Did he need you for something special?"

"On that day, his majesty the Emperor informed me that I am his great-great-great-great-grandson." He nodded to me, adding, "As you are King Leopold's. It appears that though we are merely the descendants of some of the most powerful men to rule the Earth, perhaps we will also have the opportunity to contribute to how the world's final chapter is written." Fukimitsu gestured to the servant holding the present, and the old man hobbled over to us and laid it gently on our laps.

Mary grinned and made that "shaking fists in a ball right in front of her face" move that women do when they're excited to open a gift, and I glanced up at Fukimitsu, saying, "It's a head, right? I saw 'Se7en' and I know how you guys roll."

Fukimitsu laughed and even gave a single clap. "Excellent guess, Howland-san! Not quite. Please." He bowed to the box, and Mary and I opened it.

Mary screamed.

I stared down into the box and back up at Fukimitsu, then back down into the box. "There are two, severed, human heads in here."

Fukimitsu nodded. "I said it was an excellent guess."

Mary lost it. "Why the hell would you do this? Who are these poor... what the f*ck is wrong with you people?!"

He kept his composure perfectly, even chuckling a little. "Kisho-chan mentioned your propensity for cursing, and now that I hear it I find it actually quite charming. That is Endo-san and his wife."

"Who?!"

"The Emperor read your missive from your time aboard the Dial Up. Captain Maeda's tale was a particularly touching one. Despite all his hardships, he acted honorably, while his partner in business did not. My lord was also quite displeased to hear of the Captain's wife's actions in marrying Maeda-san's partner simply for his money. Most horrible."

I pointed down at the heads. "So this is..."

"Ota-san paid them a visit. They were given the opportunity to make restitution and redeem themselves. They declined."

Mary shook her head. "Maybe they- alright, they did deserve to be punished for what they did, but this-"

Fukimitsu rose from his chair. "They were my great-great-great-great grandfather's subjects. They acted with dishonor and he punished them, as is his right. It was their karma. It was justice." He bowed and turned to leave, adding, "Merry Christmas."

I finally pulled it together enough to stand, still holding the box. "Uh, would you mind taking this back with you? We're grateful for the gift, but I just haven't got around to finishing that human head display stand down in my workshop. I was going to get to it right after the bird feeder, but you know how it is."

He laughed, and the servant took the box back, carefully folding down the flaps.

"Wish the Emperor a merry one, too, okay?"

Fukimitsu shook his head. "If you insist. I am sure you can imagine his feelings concerning such a 'holiday'. Turn the other cheek, live and let live, always forgiving every transgression-"

"Uh, on second thought, never mind. Thanks, Fukimitsu-san."

He bowed. "An excellent choice, Howland-san. I would hate for the next present I deliver to be you." He laughed good-naturedly as he left, closing the door behind him.

Josh: Fathers And Sons

After we gave the Emperor the encryption code for the archive and he dictated his post (consider my mind thoroughly blown by it, by the way), he dismissed us. Mary spoke then, saying respectfully, "Pardon me, your majesty, but perhaps we could stay a few moments longer? There is so much more that we would very much like to know."

Fukimitsu translated and Emperor Komei replied, with Fukimitsu's little smile widening as he pronounced, "The divine Emperor says that he would very much enjoy continuing a dialog concerning our mutual foe via posts on the archive instead of in person. He hopes that the enemy of his enemy is his friend, but at the same time every fiber of his royal being-blessed by sacred Nippon and directly descended from the great goddess Amaterasu- cries out to order your immediate executions with every moment you are in his presence."

I rose and stretched. "Welp, time to be hittin' that ol', dusty trail. Thanks for everything, your majesty." Bowing once more, we beat a hasty retreat back to the limo, with the Yoshida brothers giving our driver orders to return us to our respective apartments.

In the car, with Mary curled up on the seat next to me asleep, I heard Yoshida sniffle. "Are you getting sick, Yoshida? Do not give it to me. I can not afford to get sick right now."

"I am fine."

As we drove by a street-light, I saw that his face was wet. It took almost a minute for me to register what was happening (considering his normal disposition) and I asked, "Are you crying?"

"No."

"What is it?"

He wiped a hand over his face and continued to stare stoically out of the window at the dark shapes of trees as they whizzed by. In a soft voice, he said, "Yesterday, my father was a genocidal monster- an abomination. Today- while he did betray the Emperor's orders- he did it only and always in his service. Today, he is a hero, to me. My father."

I nodded. We drove home in silence, with only the sound of the road in our ears.

Josh: Komei

Mary, Kisho Yoshida and I rode in a stretch limousine, following the Yoshida brothers' car to the outskirts of the city. Outside our car windows the sleek skyscrapers of Kyoto were replaced by rural housing and then by the beautiful rolling trees and hills of the Japanese countryside.

As we drove, Mary and I sat in the rear seat with Kisho facing us, Yoshida never taking his eyes from his PDA as we rolled along. As the sun went down over the hills, Mary placed her head on my shoulder and whispered, smiling, "Back in the office? What you did? That was very sexy."

I smiled back at her and was about to reply when Yoshida pulled out his phone, opened it up and pointed it at us. Mary scowled. "What are you doing? Are you videotaping us?" Yoshida made no reply. Her scowl deepened. "You think we're going to have sex right here?" He shrugged, closed the phone and put it back in his pocket, picking the PDA back up again and ignoring us once more.

As Mary glared at him with a combination of disbelief and loathing, I gazed back out the window and murmured, "We should probably get some new friends."

"Ya think?"

The rest of the trip was a touch frosty, and we rode in silence until the cars arrived at a large, wooden gate, with twin rows of lanterns hung on posts on either side of a gravel driveway leading across a bridge and up a small hill.

In no time we'd reached the top, and when the car door was opened for us we found ourselves standing before an actual, medieval-style Japanese castle, with torches mounted alongside enormous, dark, brass-bound, wooden doors. In the darkness it was difficult to make out just how large the castle was, but looking up I could see a significant portion of the sky blotted out by the structure.

I began to walk toward the doors, but the Yoshida brothers' assistant sidled up to me from the other limo and informed me in no uncertain terms that I was forbidden to enter the castle. He and the brothers then ushered us down a path running alongside the gigantic stone and wood structure to a pavilion in a clearing in the back. As we approached I could hear the sound of music- one of those Japanese guitar-things I never knew the name of was being plucked one string at a time in its distinctive, quavering style.

Walking into the pavilion was like strolling into the past. It was brightly lit with lanterns and decorated with red and gold banners (actual design, below), and everyone there was dressed in kimonos, with not a hint of anything modern or technological on display. There was a lovely young Japanese woman on our right playing the shamisen (the weird guitar-thing. Kisho filled me in later), along with a half-dozen men and women sitting on mats and talking quietly amongst themselves. At the end of the room in a clear position of "boss" was an elderly Japanese gentleman, his silk kimono covered with a long, opulent, golden robe that spread out behind him like a fan. To his left stood a young man in his early twenties with just the hint of a smile on his face, reading to him from a small black book. Kisho whispered that the servant's name was Fukimitsu. To the elderly man's right was the most muscular Japanese man I had ever seen, with the mass of a sumo wrestler but without the fat. His name was Ota, according to Kisho. Both of the men standing were holding curved, long canes which were obviously swords in very thin disguise.

As we stepped into the area, led by the Yoshidas, the two brothers actually went to their knees and then bowed so far their foreheads touched the floor. I glanced over at Kisho to see that he was doing the same thing, so Mary and I followed suit.

While we were bowing, Kisho whispered, "It is Yamamoto-Sama. Lord Yamamoto is President and C.E.O. of the Bengosha Corporation." His expression was deferential verging on terrified. He hissed, "Please, please, please be respectful. Do not act like, uh... like you do."

Finally we rose, and the Yoshida brothers spoke in Japanese to Yamamoto for a minute before he nodded and waved us forward to stand in front of him. For an elderly man, Yamamoto's eyes were white and clear, and he gave no impression of frailty whatsoever. As we approached, the sumo guy Ota's knuckles went white on the handle of his sword cane, and it was then that I decided to adopt an immediate and binding "no sudden moves" policy.

Yamamoto cleared his throat and spoke a few words of Japanese to Fukimitsu- the smiling man with the book on his left- and he bowed, lifted up the book and began to read aloud in perfect English:


"Frustrated once again by all our efforts, I retreated to the bar just off the base, hoping that some time away from the project would clear my head. The bar was mostly empty as usual- no surprise given its combination of isolated locale and lack of hygiene.

A middle-aged man in a white suit sitting two stools down ordered another whiskey and drank it in a single gulp, sighing with a smile at the empty glass as he put it down on the bar. He turned to me and commented in a southern drawl, 'Whiskey didn't used to be the drink of the world, my friend. Oh, no. Back in 1831, Aeneas Coffey invented the Coffey still, which produced a far more drinkable whiskey. Later that century, by a remarkable confluence of events, the phylloxera beetle annihilated France's vineyards, and in just a few years there was an enormous shortage of wine and brandy. Then the Scots discovered marketing, and the rest is history. Out with the old, in with the new, so they say.' He grinned at me with yellow teeth as he lit a cigarette and rose from his chair, picking up a thin briefcase as he got up.

I thought he was turning to go, but instead he stepped closer, gestured at the stool next to mine and asked 'May I?', sitting down without waiting for my reply. He ordered another whiskey and took a gulp as he stared straight ahead, gazing at himself in the mirror behind the bar. He looked wistful as he spoke, his voice barely louder than a whisper, 'The fire... the plumes of flame that will jet up into the sky... it was mankind's first discovery and you want to talk about beginner's luck! There is nothing so pure, hypnotic and lovely as a fire, and you will make the greatest of them all.

'Every sweet family home turned to charred ash in an instant, their carefully tended gardens scorched down to the bare earth... and the people! Mothers incinerated as they instinctively but futilely attempt to turn and shield their tiny babies... little boys and girls, their hair catching fire as they play in the street, running like a parade of mad matchsticks and screaming for help that will never come. Sweet fire. How I do admire you, sir.'

The man raised his glass in a toast and drank the rest as I gaped at him, horrified, and demanded to know what in God's name he was going on about. Then as I told him to get away and leave me alone, he turned to look at me, the intensity of his gaze stopping me in mid-sentence. 'Hit a bit of a snag, have we? This might be of some small service.' The man reached down within his briefcase and pulled out a file folder, laying it carefully down on the bar in front of me. I opened it, my curiosity getting the better of me, and I sat stunned as I saw laid out in very clear detail precisely how to solve every problem we'd come up against.

I looked up at the man then just as he was rising to go, asking if he knew what he had there, telling him (stupidly, against protocol, but I was just so damned amazed) that with that file we would be able to construct one by next year at the latest.

The man nodded and tossed a few bills on the bar in payment for his drinks. Suddenly I felt something run across my right ankle, and I looked down in time to see an enormous, black centipede run under the bar and out of sight. With a shiver I looked back at the man to see he was already at the door. He turned back to me before he left and said, 'One? The Japanese Emperor is an extraordinarily stubborn individual, with all due respect.' He gave me a wide, yellow smile that gave me a shiver worse than the centipede just had, then he winked and said, 'Better make two.'

After he'd gone I drove back to the base and read the file from cover to cover. Next year's date was stamped on every page.

And every word was in my own handwriting.

May God have mercy on my soul. 'I am become death, the destroyer of worlds.'"


Yamamoto cleared his throat once more and gestured to one of the women, who instantly rose and brought him a tray with a small cup of tea. He took a sip, and Fukimitsu said, "The diary of Robert Oppenheimer, architect of the atomic bomb. Secret diary, or at least he believed it was." Yamamoto motioned for us to come and sit before him, and two of the servants shuffled mats over to the center of the room. We sat cross-legged and waited, saying nothing. He took another sip of tea, then another. We waited some more. This better be good, I thought to myself, biting my tongue.

It was.

He stared at us with those clear, calm eyes and spoke, Fukimitsu translating. "My lord says: when I was born I was given the name Hiro-no-Miya. I was the fourth son of Emperor Ninko of Japan. When my father died I was proclaimed the one hundred twenty-first, divine, sovereign Emperor, and following what was believed to be my death, was posthumously named Emperor Komei. I am one hundred and seventy-seven years old.

"Tell me everything that you know of the Magician."

Josh: Setting The Stakes

In addition to the cell phone issue, I want to talk to your uncles personally, Yoshida. We're going to need their help, and it's time to see what forces we can rally.

Here's our State of the Union, so to speak (painting from ralphbakshi.com):

The Magician is coming to Japan. When he gets here, he'll perform some kind of "trick" that will- as far as we can gather- end the world as we know it. With what we've seen of his power so far, it seems reasonable to assume that he can actually do it. Why it has to be in Japan, I don't know, but he will come, and I imagine he'll bring friends.

We are not without weapons. The Magician's knife can actually hurt his people as opposed to other, more conventional arms. The bingo charms have the power to kill as well, at least against the animals he controls.

We need to know where in Japan he's going. Can he perform his trick anywhere in Japan? If so, we've got a hell of a lot of ground to cover. From Leopold's post we know this:

"...he will perform a trick. He will use the charms, his knife, a rabbit and his own blood, though his body contains no blood any longer, if it ever did. It is quite probably too late to stop the charms, but the knife and his blood may yet be within your grasp. Keep them separate and failing that, use Yoshida's formula."

Well, we've already decided not to separate the knife and the charms because we don't want to let them out of our sight, and if we use the knife in combination with the charms it's a very effective weapon. And we've destroyed the Calicivirus formula already so that's not an option (killing virtually everyone in the world? Yeah, didn't seem like that great of an idea). He can get a rabbit anywhere, but the blood part is still a mystery. I suppose there's a good chance he has a vial of it saved or something, but there's not much we can do about that at this point.

So we need help. The Magician has already shown that he prefers to travel by sea (and with the whales doing his bidding I don't blame him) so we need to watch the ports. For that we need Yoshida's uncles. Beyond that, we need to somehow find out where in particular he's going in Japan, but one thing at a time.

Japan is our last stand. Everything rests on this final battle. He's coming, and I intend to be ready.

Josh: Recriminations

I have never felt this before. I have been angry, but not like this. This is rage. This is fury. This is a towering desire to destroy, and while I intend to turn this emotion on my enemy eventually, for now I cannot help but feel it for myself.

How could I have been so utterly clueless? He was right in front of me the entire time, laughing at me, playing out his trick.

Every time I look back, I see more signs and clues. Mostly, I remember our friendly arguments about Georg Hegel and Arthur Schopenhauer; how we would sit by the window and banter good-naturedly about Hegel's falling into drastic disfavor in modern thought. I am a student of philosophy, but never once did I remember this famous quote made by Sir Karl Popper concerning Hegel:

"It was child's play for Hegel's powerful dialectical methods to draw real physical rabbits out of purely metaphysical silk hats."

Oh, and of course, Hegel died when? 1831.

I come again to Taras' post, which at this point has been scrutinized more closely than the Zapruder film. With his final words he makes a comment which I took to mean that the Magician is everywhere and all-powerful, but in fact I think he was trying to give us a clue:

"The young man had helpfully left the code key active, and while it was impossible to read what had been previously written, anything could be typed in and transmitted. It didn't matter, the magician read everything and he didn't need codes or magic to do it."

He meant it literally. He was telling us that the Magician was just looking over my mother's shoulder and reading everything, no magic necessary.

Mary begs me not to judge us too harshly, but I can't stop thinking about it. We see what we want to see, I suppose.

I'll give myself one more hour of looking back and beating the hell out of myself. From then on, it's the Magician's turn.

Josh: 911

Mom, I've called the Milwaukee police department anonymously. If you can read this, the cops are on their way. Write if you can.

I love you.

Josh: Welcome To Japan, Mr. Bond

This is the first time I've ever written a post first with pen and paper (I know, those are still around? Who knew?), then typed it up later, but as all our electronic equipment was blown out I didn't have a whole lot of choice.

I'll recap a bit then continue where Mary left off, filling you in on the happenings of the last two days:

As we continued north to Japan, we all began noticing a low hum, combined with a high-pitched whine. We thought it was probably the engine out of joint somehow, so Riku and Mochizuki opened the hatch and began poking around the motor, commenting to each other in Japanese and doing a lot of shrugging. As we continued the hum got louder and louder until finally Captain Maeda decided to shut things down so they could better attempt to diagnose the problem.

Problem was, the motor stopped but the sound didn't.

It was then that Riku rose from the engine and went to the side of the boat, pointing and shouting. Mary's post was right, there were hundreds of whales surrounding us in constant motion, the water churning with their passing. The Captain scrambled up to the top of the boat with his binoculars, and shouted down that they were moving around us in a circle, with another circle being formed right next to it.

"Like a figure eight?" Mary called up to him. He nodded. She turned to me. "Infinity."

The Captain, Mochizuki, Riku and Mary all put their hands to their heads suddenly as the hum and vibration increased a notch, with Mary complaining that her teeth hurt so bad she felt like they might explode.

Riku staggered back from the rail, and Mochizuki translated for him, informing us that the sensation was worse the further you got from the center of the boat. Meanwhile, though the sound and sensation was annoying, I really can't say I was in much, if any pain.

The hum upped its intensity again, and I could hear the rivets in the boat rattling in their holes. Another moment, and the anchor came free from its mooring and plunged into the ocean, the chain clacking its way over the side behind it. Immediately Riku lunged aft to secure it, the Captain right behind him.

As the two men reached the rear of the boat, their hands covering their ears, they reached down for the black anchor chain and then suddenly were gone. There was no puff of smoke or flash of light, it was just: one second they were there and the next they weren't. In less than the blink of an eye, Captain Maeda and Riku disappeared off the face of the Earth.

Stunned and blinking, I stood there dumbfounded for a moment and even called the men's names, but to no avail. Then the hum increased in magnitude once more, and I could now hear the silverware in the tiny galley jangling in its drawer.

The sound gave me an idea. If the knife could hurt Crayton, maybe it could be used against the whales as well as both seemed to be doing the Magician's bidding. Perhaps all of his creations and lackeys were vulnerable to it.

Mary and Mochizuki were huddled at my feet in the center of the deck, their hands wrapped around their heads, and I shouted to them that I was going to use the knife. "How?" she yelled through clenched teeth.

It was a good question. The intensity of the hum was increasing by the second, and I imagined we only had moments before we too would disappear like the Captain and poor Riku. I obviously couldn't reach down from the boat's deck and start stabbing whales. For one thing I couldn't reach and for another there were just too many of them.

Without waiting for a plan to come to me I darted below, threw open the door to our cabin and hastily lugged the steamer trunk out onto the deck. Tearing open the trunk lid, I scrambled through the artifacts: the knife, the top hat, the cape and the box of bingo charms. First I picked up the knife, then the top hat, the key chain held within its secret compartment rattling inside. Shaking my head I replaced the hat, then grasped the cape, lifting it up, and for a split second I almost thought I could hear a child's desperate, plaintive cry, but then it was gone.

Finally I opened the box of bingo charms, their garish colors and designs looking surreal and ridiculous in the situation. I spared a glance at Mary and Mochizuki, the two of them curled up in the fetal position and looking like they wouldn't last more than another moment. I stared at the knife in my hand and then at the bingo charms, shrugged and muttered, "When in doubt, stab something. It's worked this far." Holding the knife in both hands, I lifted it up and stabbed down into the box, the knife's blade striking one of the metal charms and creating a single, blindingly-bright, white spark.

There was what sounded almost like an enormous sigh, like air was suddenly let out of something huge, and when my vision cleared I looked down and saw that the charm I hit had actually melted, the liquid flowing over the other charms and down to the bottom of the box.

It was suddenly, amazingly, blissfully quiet, and I helped Mary and Mochizuki to their feet and stepped over to the side of the boat, peering out over the ocean.

Every single one of the thousand or so whales that surrounded our boat was dead.


After we'd fired up the engines and slowly wended our way out of what had suddenly become an enormous whale graveyard, we gunned it for Japan, unable to call for help as our radio and all our electronic equipment had somehow been fried out. I have a feeling that First Mate Mochizuki will rapidly become Captain Mochizuki, because all of his hard studying had paid off. He expertly guided us north (through a storm, no less) straight to Kyoto without delay, not even bothering to sleep for the next two days as he wanted to report the incident to the authorities as quickly as possible.

We hit port on a gray and drizzling early morning, and I was able to finagle a cellphone from one of the local fishermen to call Yoshida and let him know we were all right, and also to tell his uncles to make certain to hustle us into the country without anyone from customs involved.

Not more than ten minutes later, a sleek, black limousine materialized on the docks and disgorged three men in traditional Japanese garb. They were the only ones on the dock not dressed in Western-style clothes, but no one gave them a second look, other than to bow deeply and humbly. The brothers Yoshida were middle-aged and impeccably groomed, and they glared at both Mary with a look that transcended the language barrier by saying, immediately and without question: "We hate you."

Regardless of their personal feelings, their assistant ushered us into the limousine behind them, and after a brief, deeply-grateful farewell to Mochizuki we drove into Kyoto.

We were in the limo not more than fifteen minutes before it pulled to a stop in front of a sleek, silver skyscraper, the Yoshida brothers' assistant gesturing for us to exit the car, handing us each plastic swipe cards. "My masters wish you to know that you are under their protection while you are in Kyoto. Kisho-san requested of his venerable uncles that every courtesy and protection be extended to you, his comrades."

Mary and I looked at each other. "Yoshida called us his comrades?" I asked in disbelief.

"Every courtesy?" asked Mary, entirely dubious.

The assistant nodded. Mary and I looked back at each other, our expressions incredulous. The assistant continued, "A translator waits in your apartment. Is there anything else you require?" There was a long pause as the rain ran down our necks, soaking our clothes.

Finally I asked, "He said 'comrades'?"

Followed by Mary's, "Every courtesy?"

Bowing and nodding once more, the assistant got back in the car without another word, and the limousine glided off.

I shook my head. "If that's what Yoshida actually said, that's weirder than the whole whale thing."


Once we had reached our room, introduced ourselves to the interpreter (an adorable, young, Japanese girl named "Kimi", who giggled charmingly at every one of our questions [actual photograph below]) and showered, we settled in, me to write this post and Mary to start making phone calls, checking up on some things back in the States.

Reading our posts back, I now see all the crazy 'static' breaking up Mary's writing. "Hey, Mary, did you count these? The slashes break up the asterisks at every thirteenth interval. Is that what the whales were 'saying', you think? The number thirteen over and over again?" She shrugged. Breathing a sigh and running my hands through my hair, I said, "All I know is, I'm happy it's the 24th of November and not Friday the 13th, that's for sure."

Josh: The Captain's Tale

JOSH: I can't take it anymore. Why is this boat called the Dial Up?

FIRST MATE MOCHIZUKI: The Captain was a very wealthy man. He pursued and received his Captain's license merely so he could sail his yacht. He and his business partner owned one of the largest dial up Internet companies in the '90's, then when it was clear that broadband was next, the Captain wanted to upgrade while his partner insisted that no one would pay for high speed Internet. When the bubble burst, the Captain got out right at the very end, using the last of his money to make certain that his employees were paid what they were owed. His business partner kept his half of the money instead of paying. Just to make ends meet, the Captain was forced to go to his wife and ask her family to loan him the money to buy this boat. She did, but as a condition she made him christen it the Dial Up as a reminder of his failure.

JOSH: Owwwww.

MOCHIZUKI: Hai.

JOSH: So his wife is waiting for him back in port?

MOCHIZUKI: No. Last year she left him- for the business partner.

JOSH: And in the end, she and the partner got in a fiery car accident and died, right? That creepy girl from The Ring sucked them through a TV? Tell me something terrible happened to them.

MOCHIZUKI: No.

JOSH: That ain't right.

MOCHIZUKI: No.

JOSH: He has his honor, though. That's got to be worth a lot in your culture, hm?

MOCHIZUKI: Not as much as it once was. Not nearly as much.


After this fantastically uplifting conversation, I scurried back to Mary in our cabin and curled in next to her, a shaft of moonlight spearing down at the foot of our bed through the porthole. "Mary, if I ever have a business, and my business partner is a jerk and I have to buy a boat, don't make me name it something nasty, okay?"

"I don't see you as ever having a boat. Or a business partner. Or a business."

"Er, okay. That makes me feel so much better."

She grinned. "And if you did, you'd probably name it the 'Pwned' or the 'Mace Windu' or the-"

"That guy did everything right. He knew what do to, he was loyal to his friend and he paid his people what he owed. He did everything right and g*ot totally screwed." I propped myself up on an elbow and looked down at her, her face looking like a beautiful statue in the moonlight. "We might lose, Mary. We could do everything we need to do and the Magician might still end the world."

She gave the perfect answer- the one I needed to hear. She kissed me.

Afterward, I leapt up in amazement. "You know who Mace Windu is! You nerd!"

Mary covered her face with her hands in mock-shame while I did an enormously awkward and un-sexy naked victory dance next to the bed. Finally I crawled back in and spooned behind her. "The 'Mace Windu' wouldn't be a bad name for a sailboat."

"Goodnight, Josh."

"Goodnight, Mary."

Josh: You Spend Your Entire Life Searching For Your Soulmate, And Then You Find Them... And It's An Elderly, Drunk Guy Who Doesn't Speak English

Riku for president! I know the election is over, but this guy is the greatest. He smiles all the time (one tooth and all, drawing below taken from nataliedee.com. Normally I just rip off the pictures, but someone actually drew that, and just on the off-chance that the Magician doesn't murder me and the world doesn't end and I'm not executed in Georgia on that murder charge, I'd like to not get sued. God, that was a depressing sentence to write), drinks sake or beer twenty-three hours a day, does his job so well that no one else on the boat really needs to do anything, and he's so humble that this morning I almost caught him bowing to a seagull. If I hadn't just fallen head over heels for Mary, I'd have some serious, stone-skipping, soul-searching walks on the beach as to whether I should ask for his hand in marriage.

Our daily routine: Mary and I sleep late in our tiny cabin, then rouse ourselves for breakfast with the Captain while we read the current events on the Internet. Then Mary and I lounge around in the back of the boat tanning and whale watching until late afternoon, when she goes to the helm to drink tea and talk smart with Captain Maeda and I set up the dominoes board and get stinking drunk on sake with Riku.

Not to leave out the First Mate, Mochizuki, who is a decent guy as well. He's studying to be a Captain himself, and is just very dedicated to learning all he can. He spends all day looking at nautical charts and books, though when the day is over he's happy to unwind with the rest of us.

That was how the last three days have gone (probably should have put a time stamp at the top- today is November 21st, 2008). Weather-wise, today was probably the last day of sunshine we'll have as there is a moderate-sized storm system to the north, though the Captain assures us it's nothing to worry about. Meanwhile, of course, this (below) is what I'm imagining we're actually heading into.

In health news, my ankle is feeling much better, with the eel bite healing fast. The antibiotics did the trick. Another late night with Riku, however, and my liver might just jump overboard.

Josh: Um... Thanks?

That was the nicest thing you ever said, Yoshida. Of course, it was buried amid insults, weird sex stuff and rampant misogyny, but I was still actually kinda touched.

Josh: Love... Exciting And New, Come Aboard, We're Expecting You... The LOVE BOAT, Soon Will Be Making Another Run (Stuck In Your Head Now, Right?)

It's our final day on board the Reliant. We'll be arriving in Guam within the hour, and, like Mary, I never want to leave this rusty bucket 'o scrap. Maybe we can just rent out this cabin and travel around? Get a couple of frilly curtains for the porthole so Mary feels more at home?

Probably not.

I could wax on about how in utterly in love I am, but the thought of Yoshida reading it and commenting is a daunting prospect.

Josh: Candlelight

Realizing there was a tiny chance that I had been ignoring Mary on our little jaunt out to sea, I set out to make it up to her. Excusing myself from our cabin that evening, I went on a little scavenger hunt and returned from the ship's galley with candles, a bottle of wine, a couple of bowls of goulash and two packs of Ho Hos. I also asked around for music, seeing what I could borrow from the crew, and got three CD's of death metal, a disc of Mozart and The Best of Barry Manilow. The Manilow guy also had ABBA Gold: Greatest Hits.

"Does it have 'Waterloo' on it?"

He nodded, smiling, "You bet."

"Keep it, then. You know the date for Waterloo is wrong, right?"

Ignoring his weird look, I headed back to my cabin and hastily assembled our dinner as Mary looked on. Then I lit the candles on the table, held her chair for her as she sat down and put on the soothing sounds of Slayer in the background.

"This is actually really nice, Josh. Even though this music sounds like one long car accident."

I nodded, and we ate our goulash in silence, sipping at the wine. When the meal was done I swapped out the Slayer for Mozart and we began the dessert course, munching our Ho Hos by candlelight.

I took a deep breath and asked softly, "Don't answer this if you don't want, but was it very hard when you found out you couldn't have kids?"

"Yes."

"Because your husband wanted them?"

"That, and I wanted them too. Not right then, but... someday."

I poured us both the last of the wine. "What about adoption?"

She shrugged. "He didn't want to. I would, but 'Private Investigator' isn't the sort of job they look for in a single mother at the adoption agency." Mary shook her head and gave a bitter laugh. "And now that I'm wanted for accessory to murder... even if I clear my name at some point... I'll never... they'll never give..."

Regretting I'd asked the question, I tried to lighten the mood by saying, "Hey, you've got me. I'm child-like. Or child-ish. Either way, the word child is prominently involved."

A tear made its way down her cheek, the drop sparkling in the candlelight. I slid my chair back, stepped around the table and put my arms around her as she sat, her ear against my belly. "It's all right. It'll be all right, Mary."

Her voice came out in a whisper. "How can it possibly be all right? In all this death and horror, against these monsters, what is all right?"

I ran my fingers gently through her golden hair. "I didn't want my dad to die or my mom to be paralyzed, but I can't deny that everything that's happened has... I don't know if it's changed me as much as its shown me who I am. It's given me a purpose. It's given me you." I took a deep breath. "I don't know how it's all going to turn out... hell, I barely know what's happening now, but no matter what occurs I'll always have this. I'll always be running my fingers through your hair. I'll always be brushing my hand over your soft cheek. I'll be drying your tears. I'll always be here." I shook my head. "The Magician and all the others who are so busy 'conquering' and killing... they can never have this. They'll never look at someone the way I'm looking at you right now. Even though you don't feel the same way about me, it's what makes us-"

Mary rose from her chair then, never leaving my grasp and kissed me lightly on the lips, the softness of the touch startling me. Then she kissed me again slowly, pulling me closer. I broke away after a minute, my voice coming out in a croak. "I know how you feel about letting my mom down. Don't do anything that you don't want-"

She gave a rueful grin. "I'm not made of stone, Josh. I did my best. I just hope she'll understand."

"I did stab a guy for you. That's long been considered an unassailable term of endearment. What chance did you have?"

"Hush, now."

The Reliant churned northward through the Pacific as the sun fell into the sea- the horizon losing its battle against the night once more, and we could not have cared less.

Josh: As He Pushes Pause, Josh Asks Himself: "Can I Really Do NOTHING But Play Video Games For Two Straight Weeks?" Yes. Yes, I Can. Duh.

Mom, I think you should stay put. We know Japan is where the Magician is heading to perform his "trick", so the farther away from there you are the easier I'll sleep. Whatever help you can give, you can do it just as easily in Milwaukee, I'd think.

And Jeff won't be locked up forever. Either we'll somehow defeat the Magician and clear or names or... we won't be around to worry about being sent to prison anyway.

I believe you're right about Japan being where everything will culminate, one way or another. I can practically feel it as the ship gets closer. It's hard to explain, but there's something about the place, now that I know where we need to go, that feels... all right, it's not hard to explain, it's impossible to explain. I just have a feeling that everything will end there, for good or ill.

Josh: "The Family That Harpoons Whales Together, Fails Together", And Other Rhymes I'll Be Chanting Outside Your Door When I Get To Japan

They're whalers? They actually harpoon whales? Jesus, and you work for them?! I'm a goddamn member of Greenpeace, you @sshole! You have got to be kidding me! Every time you save our @sses and I start liking you just a tiny bit you have to go and type something else, Yoshida. It's uncanny.

What do you do, go out on weekends with the family just to slaughter some whale babies? Do you know how smart they are? How generally peaceful? Goddamn, you make me want to throw up, Yoshida. What do you do in your spare time, stab baby seals?

Josh: Come Again?

Greenpeace terrorist organization?? Just what is it that your uncles do, exactly?

Josh: I'll Take A Blue Question For A Pie Piece, Please. Yes, I Know My Specialty Is The Pink Category In Trivial Pursuit, But Humor Me

"I know where the Magician is going. I know the place he's been looking to conquer the entire time." I was planning on strutting in and playing it cool for a bit; chatting about the weather and how great life was now that I had discovered the fantastic new world of prescription painkiller abuse, but of course the words just spilled out of me the second Mary answered her door.

I had spent the afternoon in my room with the Magician's top hat, dumping out the contents, staring at them and replacing them over and over. There was something about that cheap, kitchy, globe key chain that nagged at me, and I spent a good half-hour tossing it up and down, twirling it on my finger and just generally being captivated and owned by it like a hippie with a kaleidoscope.

When I saw it I rushed next door to Mary. "The answer is on the globe on the key chain. Look at it."

She took it, skeptical. "I have looked at it. What do you see?"

"Take another look. Tell me what you see. More to the point, tell me what you don't see."

Giving me a withering look (which, on a scale of one to ten, with one being a corgi puppy staring at you after they figured out that you tried to trick them by not actually throwing the stick during a game of fetch but just hiding it behind your back instead, and ten being my Mother even when she's not giving a withering look, I give Mary's withering look about an eight), Mary said, "Why don't you just tell me what you've found."

"I actually detected something important before you did! Can't I revel a little? Just look at it. What isn't there?"

She sighed and gave it another look as I closed the door behind me and threw myself down on her bed. "There are no cities on here. It's too small. Is that it, Josh?"

"It's not a city. Think bigger. Mind if I turn on your TV?"

"Yes. There are no names on the continents, only the drawings. It's missing writing?" I shook my head and pointed at the key chain, indicating that she should look again.

Scowling, Mary sat down on the hotel chair as I turned on the TV, making sure to keep the volume low. On the screen was a woman staggering around a mud pit while a soccer ball was fired out of a cannon about a hundred feet straight up into the air. It hung there at its apogee, then plummeted down straight into the woman's face as she tried to catch it, the ball making a loud "POOONG" sound as it ricocheted off her head. She fell face down into the mud, paralysed with pain.

Mary looked up at it, aghast. "What the hell are you watching?"

"Game show."

She shook her head in disbelief. "What kind of sick, weird game show would-" Her eyes widened and she stared back down at the globe key chain. "It isn't there. Why isn't it there? You're right, Josh. That's where he's going. It's where he was always going. I thought the destination was only misdirection, but the truth is he didn't care if we knew it or not.

He's going to Japan."

Mary: The Tools Of The Trade

November 11th, 2008:

Josh and I woke up in our posh, adjoining hotel rooms in Adelaide, and while we both slept a bit fitfully- him because of the pain in his ankle from the eel bite, me because every dream eventually morphed into a nightmare of Crayton licking my ear- we made up in quantity what we missed in quality, only getting out of our beds after a good twelve hours.

Once we'd wolfed down our enormous trays of breakfast goodies, Josh trekked out to see a doctor about getting some antibiotics for his ankle while I placed the Magician's knife, cape and top hat on the bed and stared at them intently for a long, long time before examining them one after the other.

First, the knife: Like the hat and cape, the Magician's knife was obviously very old, perhaps a hundred years or more, though unlike the other two the knife was far from being in pristine condition, the blade razor-sharp but adorned with numerous scratches, the wooden handle worn smooth. The blade was slightly curved, and the only discernible markings on the handle were the letters, "G.G.", carved by hand. I picked it up and gave it a couple of test-cuts through the air before I remembered that this was the weapon that was used to disembowel poor Mrs. Walentowicz back in Milwaukee and hastily put it back down on the bedspread.

Second, the cape: I looked it over, front and back, and even dared to try it on, finding the silkiness of the interior to be quite comfortable, but after a moment of wearing it I recalled Taras' story about the disappearing boy, broke out in a cold sweat and immediately tossed it back down next to the knife. The exterior of the cape was black, the interior crimson. It contained no pockets or tags to indicate where it may have been purchased.

Finally, the top hat: Like the cape it had an antique look, but there was not so much as a frayed string anywhere on it. I almost put it on, but I still had the shivers from wearing the cape and decided against it. I peered inside the hat, finding nothing.

Josh returned from the doctor's then, popping pain pills and in a much better mood, though he gave all the items on the bed a wide berth, eyeing them suspiciously. Eventually he slumped down in one of the hotel chairs and joined me in simply staring at them, hoping that some secret would be revealed by the mere act of observance.

After a few minutes he asked, "There's nothing in the hat? In Rocky and Bullwinkle cartoons, Bullwinkle is always pulling stuff out of his hat." I shook my head, then because he'd got me thinking about it I looked inside again, finding nothing.

He pressed on. "Maybe you have to say some magic words?"

"Judging by what we've seen come out of the Magician's assistants' sleeves, I'm not sure we want something to pop out of there, Josh."

"What about the practical magic Yoshida was studying? Maybe we could test out some phrases, or toss a red-string Kabbalah bracelet in there. I'm just spitballing here."

"Clearly."

Growing inspired, he stood up and limped around as he spoke. "Maybe it responds to physical, sexual energy! We could find a couple of volunteers to give each other rubdowns nearby, thereby triggering-"

I rolled my eyes, "How many of those pain pills have you had, exactly?"

"Five. I wasn't talking about us, necessarily. Though if that's what you're proposing, I'm on record as saying I'll take one for the team, as unpleasant as it might be."

Deciding to ignore him, I once more picked up the hat, turning it over and over again in my hands. "I think you're right, Josh."

His eyes widened. "Excuse me?"

I gave his arm a whack, shaking my head. "Not about that. About Yoshida. More specifically, about his abandoning the study of practical magic and getting more into stage magic. Let's look at how a stage magician would use it."

Josh rubbed his arm, then his chin as he pondered it. "Does the bottom come off, so stuff can pass through it?" The two of us inspected the underside of the hat, taking our time but finding nothing. "Nice try, anyway. We went over every damn inch of it."

That struck me. "Did we? Let's be sure." I picked up the hotel phone, called down to the front desk and asked if they could bring up a sewing kit. In minutes I had one, and from it I pulled out a yellow and black tape measure. Josh held the hat steady as I began to measure it, inside and out, a smile creeping over my face when I'd finished. "It's over an inch longer on the outside than in."

"Whoa. False bottom! Which isn't a bad name for a gay spy band, either, now that I think of it."

Shooting him a look, I dug down inside the hat, feeling around the dark interior for any sign of abnormalities, and eventually my finger snagged on a tiny tag at the bottom edge. I tugged at it, and a moment later I pulled the hat's false bottom up, revealing a secret compartment within.

Not wanting to reach my hand in where I couldn't see just in case there was some nasty, sharp surprise waiting, I turned the hat upside down on the bed, and when the contents fell out with a clatter on the comforter, Josh and I stared for a long moment, befuddled.

Lying on the bed was an old skeleton key attached by a thin chain to a small plastic globe of the Earth, the kind you could find for sale in any tourist trap or airport newsstand. Josh scowled. "A cheesy key chain? Fantastic. It was all worth it."

"When we were opening it up you were thinking about Raiders of the Lost Ark again, weren't you?"

His scowl deepened. "That's hardly detective work. When aren't I thinking of it?" Picking up the hat again and peering inside it, he asked, "So the key chain rattled on the bed... how come it didn't jingle around in the hat when we were shaking it?" He carefully reached down into it and pulled loose a rolled-up piece of newspaper, tossing it down with disdain on the bed next to the key chain. "Wow. A wad of trash. Hide it before the Nazis find out. I stabbed a guy in the spine for this crap?"

I unrolled the piece of newspaper, the paper yellow with age. The page was half-torn, but at the top were the words, "Het Laatste Nieuws". A quick Google search discovered that it was a Belgian newspaper.

Now Josh began nodding. "Okay. That's something. My uncle- rather, my great-great-great-great grandfather Leopold was from Belgium. I don't know just what that means, but it's better than nothing, I guess."

I stared at the torn sheet, gazing fixedly at it for so long that Josh eventually had to tap me on the shoulder. "What? It's Belgian, I get it. What do you see?"

"I don't know what this means exactly either, Josh, but I know that Indiana Jones can eat his heart out. This piece of paper looks to easily be decades if not a hundred years old. The page is yellowed and you can just feel how fragile it is to the touch. I bet if we had it carbon dated it would confirm what we see and feel." Josh leaned in, wanting more, but I couldn't take my eyes off the page.

"Tell me."

I pointed. The date at the top of the page read: February 1st, 2009.

Josh's jaw dropped. "But... how... it's what, November of 2008!"

All I could do was shake my head slowly and place the page and the key chain carefully back inside the hat, closing the false bottom over it once more as Josh popped pain pills number six and seven of the morning.

Josh: I Could Try And Think Of Something Profound To Say, Too, But We All Know I'd Just Wind Up Ripping Off One Of Gandalf's Speeches From LOTR

I parked my new truck off the road (and by "new", I mean it has over a hundred thousand miles and smells like four generations of sheep farted in the cab. Below: One of Australia's mysterious kangaroo-sheep) and hid it as best I could in the scrub off the road by the ocean. There's a police car in front of Crayton's house, but the cop watching the place doesn't seem overly alert and I think I've got a shot at sneaking around the side and getting in. The only problem is that that, again, the cop isn't overly alert, so Crayton could already have crept past him and be inside right now. Even if he isn't, he could still have Smilers set to guard the place, or booby traps by the doors or windows, or he could have the Magician's knife hooked up to explosives.

Optimism abounds.

Is this the best plan? Who the hell knows. I'm going on no sleep at all, my ankle where the eel bit me last night is killing me and all I've had to eat in forever is a ham and cheese sandwich prepared by an old person, which means that it tasted like bland with an extra spoonful of bland and bland on the side.

All I know is that I feel the same way Mary does about it. I'm sick and goddamn tired of going up against these monsters and winding up with nothing. We're either getting the knife or the bingo charms. For once we're going to stick it to them, no matter what the cost.

If this is my last post, I just hope someone listens to my last request: For God's sake, someone stop George Lucas before he f*cks up Star Wars any further. Thank you.

Josh: Whoops, Forgot To Provide A Reasonable Answer to An Actual, Legitimate Question

Mom wrote:

"Joshua, do you still possess the Swiss army knife you took from Crayton? Perhaps it might contain some physical evidence to be used as proof? Also, did you by chance happen to maintain your grip on his identification during your encounter?"

I gave the knife to the cops and they're dusting it and doing all that C.S.I. stuff (below). I doubt it will amount to much, but it can't hurt. I just don't think Crayton's going to show his face again, at least not around here. His house looks abandoned and there's no trace of him.

Unfortunately I dropped his wallet when I ran from him in the Liberator. Mary told the police divers to look for it, but it was gone. Crayton probably picked it back up again after Lachlan and I fled.