At a vague hour


“Every evening, at a vague hour when her imagination and her fingers were too numb to continue carving pixels on the holopad, Ayame went from the office to the living room to listen to some vinyls. She’d picked them from that shelf where Alex kept all the things he’d inherited from half a dozen lives in scratched plastic bins of which she knew almost nothing.

Alex had a fetish wireless headset. Dated technology, improbable design. It could be a hundred years old like being bought for a few thousand yen from a Cantonese seller in Akiba. For months the object was dragging, useless, on a shelf above the stage. Under the white neon lighting of deco, this old model from Sony looked like a kind of pop museum piece. His bright red plastic envelope hung the lights coming in through the bay. The flight lights of the skycars and spinners briefly drew warm commas on its curves.”

Tokyo Monogatari


(Translation by



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