Salmonella Men on Planet Porno

Bear’s Wood Main Line

We were just a few minutes from Boar’s Wood Station.

“Where are you headed?” asked a thickly bearded man sitting opposite me.

“Four Bends,” I replied.

I’d heard they made good buckwheat noodles in the little town of Four Bends. So I planned to go there and eat my fill, then buy as much as I could to take home with me. That’s why I was travelling on the Hairybeast Line. You see, I’m quite mad about buckwheat noodles. If I hear of a place that’s famous for them, I have to go there and try some for myself – no matter how remote it is.

“What, you mean you’re going to stay on this train, all the way round Hairybeast, till you get to Four Bends?”

The bearded man looked at me with eyes agog. With his close-cropped hair and a towel hanging from his belt, he looked like some kind of mountain lumberjack.

“Why, yes,” I replied. “That’s the only way, isn’t it?”

“Ah well, you could get off at Boar’s Wood and change onto a train going to Deer’s Wood from there. That’s only one stop from Four Bends,” said the bearded man. “At Boar’s Wood, you change onto the Bear’s Wood Main Line. It’s only a single track, mind. But it’ll get you to Four Bends four hours quicker than going all the way round Hairybeast.”

“Oh, really? I didn’t know that!” I said, staring at him in surprise. “I really didn’t know that.”

“I’m going to Bear’s Wood myself,” said the bearded man, looking out at the night sky.

A clear, star-filled sky stretched out over the forest on either side of the tracks. It was already half-past eleven. There weren’t many passengers on this train as it journeyed deep into the mountains. In our carriage there were only twelve or thirteen, including the bearded man and myself.

“I get it. It’s called the Bear’s Wood Main Line because it goes through Bear’s Wood, right? Yes, of course. But if it’s only a single track and it’s so short, why’s it called a main line?” I asked. I took out some cigarettes and offered one to the bearded man. He pulled a strip of matches from his shirt pocket and lit up, took a deep puff and slowly started to explain.

“In olden times, the Bear’s Wood Main Line was the only railway in these parts. That was before Hairybeast got so big. In those days, this line we’re on now was also part of the Bear’s Wood Main Line. It went up into the mountains from Boar’s Wood, passed through Bear’s Wood and Deer’s Wood, and ended up in Four Bends. When was it, now? Well, when the railway to Hairybeast was built, going the long way round to Four Bends, people began to think of that as the main line. So they started calling this the Hairybeast Line. But us people who live round here, we still call it the Bear’s Wood Main Line. Just the bit between Boar’s Wood and Deer’s Wood, mind. The Main Line, we call it.”

Yes, I vaguely remembered reading about it in a magazine some years back. The local railway line that runs through the mountains to Deer’s Wood.

“Right, I’ll change onto that then,” I said.

The bearded man nodded vigorously. “That’d be best,” he said.

Boar’s Wood was a tiny station in the middle of the forest. Only two passengers got out – me and the bearded man.

At the end of the platform was another, smaller platform set at right angles to it. It was the terminus of the Bear’s Wood Main Line. A train was already waiting there. Actually, it was more a single carriage than a train. I’d imagined the train would be pulled by a branch-line locomotive, but there was nothing of the sort. It just moved by itself. A single-carriage, self-powered train.

As we got in, I noticed that the carriage had rows of double seats facing the front, on one side only. There were no other passengers – just me and the bearded man.

“Here you are at last!” said a voice. It was the driver, coming up beside us. He looked exactly the same as the bearded man. They must be brothers, I thought, or cousins.

“It was so sudden, I was that shocked. I came back as soon as I got the letter,” the bearded man said to the driver. Then he pointed to me. “This gent wants to get from Deer’s Wood to Four Bends,” he said.

“Well, we’d best get going, then,” said the driver, returning to his seat.

The train started its gentle climb up the mountain, into the gloomy depths of the forest. Chilly mountain air flowed around the carriage through an open window.

“By the way, what about the connection at Deer’s Wood?” I asked the bearded man, who seemed lost in thought.

He blinked. “Connection? What connection?”

“I mean, how long will I have to wait for the train to Four Bends?”

“Ah. Well, at this time of night…” He looked at his watch and thought for a moment. Then he suddenly slapped his thigh. “What a great fool am I! I’ve done you wrong, I have. Truth is, you’ll have to wait four hours and a bit at Deer’s Wood.”

“What?! Four hours?” I said in astonishment. “What do you mean?”

“That’s right. You’ll have to wait for that train we just got off. How much of a fool am I? I wasn’t thinking straight. I thought you’d be able to catch the one before it.”

I forced a smile as he continued to apologize.

“No, no, it’s fine,” I said. “After all, I got the chance to ride in this most unusual train, didn’t I.”

The bearded man grinned as I looked the carriage up and down. “Yes, it is unusual, isn’t it,” he said. “Soon you’ll see why it is, too.”

“And the driver, is he your brother?”

“Well, how shall I put it?” He thought hard, but then seemed to give up. “Let’s just say we’re related,” he concluded.

I imagined his whole family living with him there in Bear’s Wood. And just as I thought that, the bearded man started to explain – as if he’d been reading my mind.

“Yes, come to think of it, nearly everyone who lives in Bear’s Wood is a relative of mine. And this morning, one of them passed away. I was working in the mountains, and I only heard the news this afternoon. So I’m going back for the wake tonight.”

“Oh dear. I am sorry to hear about that.”

For the next few minutes, I looked out of the windows on either side of the carriage. “This is quite a long stretch, isn’t it,” I said at length. “Are there any other stations on this line, besides Bear’s Wood?”

“No,” replied the bearded man. “Boar’s Wood at one end. Deer’s Wood at the other. And Bear’s Wood in between.”

“Really? So this train is more or less exclusively used by your family, is it?”

“Well, yes, I suppose it is,” he replied, quite earnestly. “In olden days, there were three hamlets in these parts – Boar’s Wood, Bear’s Wood and Deer’s Wood. The senior member of my clan, in Bear’s Wood, used to be the Village Elder of all three hamlets. These days, Boar’s Wood and Deer’s Wood have been opened up, like. So the only hamlet that’s still unspoilt is Bear’s Wood. The Village Elder in Bear’s Wood is much respected by everyone round here. If ever anything happens, people get in this train and come up to Bear’s Wood for advice. Yes, that must be why we call it the Main Line.”

The train slowed and came to a gentle halt.

“Oh! We’ve stopped,” I said, poking my head out of the window to survey the scene. “Is this Bear’s Wood?”

The bearded man shook his head. “No, this isn’t Bear’s Wood. We’re still at the bottom of Bear’s Wood Mountain. The station’s at the top.”

We were still surrounded by mountains. All I could see around us was dense forest and undergrowth. And a little hut standing beside the track. Looking down, I noticed we’d been joined by a second track running alongside us. The rails shone brightly in the moonlight.

“It’s a double track here,” I said vacantly.

“That’s right. From here, the train changes into a cable car. That’s why it’s a double track.”

“You mean – this is a cable car?!” I was surprised again. But now I understood the strange appearance of the carriage.

The driver got out and went into the little hut. Through the open door, I could just see something that looked like electrical equipment inside. Eventually, he emerged from the hut and, after doing something at the front of the train for about ten minutes, returned to his seat. He’d probably been attaching the carriage to a cable.

The little hut began to vibrate, making a loud humming noise like a motor. With that, the cable car slowly started to climb the steep incline of the mountain. I supposed there must be some kind of winch at the top of the mountain, which could also be operated from the bottom.

I gazed out of the window as my body was forced back into the seat. Suddenly, I remembered the whole of the article I’d read in that magazine a few years back. I jumped up. “That’s it! Now I remember!”

“What is it you remember?” The bearded man, sitting next to me, gave me a sideways look.

I hesitated for a moment, wondering if should I go on. But then I turned to him and let it out: “Didn’t they close this line down four years ago, because it was too expensive to run and there weren’t enough passengers?”

The bearded man seemed unperturbed, and just smiled. “You do have a good memory! That is absolutely right,” he answered slowly. I sat there dumbfounded as he continued. “But, you see, if they closed this line down, we in Bear’s Wood would be in trouble. People in the other hamlets would be in trouble, too. Not only would they be unable to get to Bear’s Wood any more, but people in Boar’s Wood would have to go all the way round Hairybeast just to get to Deer’s Wood. And take four hours and a bit doing it, too. So we got the railway company to sell us the line. On condition that the Bear’s Wood residents take care of the operation and maintenance, mind. As you saw, my relative from Bear’s Wood works full-time as the driver. But only when there are passengers wanting to use it.”

“Is that right,” I said with a sigh.

The other carriage passed us silently on its way down the mountain. The train must have been operating on a counterweight system, with no stops in between. The other carriage had no lights on, and was completely dark inside. Of course, there was nobody in it.

“We have to balance out the weights, you see. So we fill that one with buckets of water,” the bearded man explained.

A few more minutes went by.

“So all the people in Bear’s Wood must be quite rich, then?” I asked casually.

The bearded man said nothing.

“After all,” I argued, “you’d have to be pretty well-off to buy a whole railway line. And it would cost a lot to maintain, too.”

He smiled meaningfully.

So that was it – they hadn’t bought the line at all. The railway company thought they’d closed the line down, but all the people living in the area had colluded to keep using the carriages, and the electricity – which they were using illegally – as well as all the other equipment and what have you, without the permission of the railway company. That must be it. The station staff at Boar’s Wood and Deer’s Wood were related to the people in Bear’s Wood, so they turned a blind eye to it all. And the money they needed to maintain the line was being raised through some kind of subterfuge. After all, where would people in a poor mountain hamlet find the money to buy up a whole branch line? It just wouldn’t happen.

The incline grew steeper as we approached the top of the mountain. I put my head out of the window and looked at the summit. There, I could see a very large thatched house. The cables and rails were heading straight towards the ground floor.

“That’s where the Bear’s Wood clan lives,” said the bearded man.

There was nothing else resembling a house anywhere near the top of the mountain. So I guessed the whole clan must live in that massive house.

Eventually, our carriage moved into the ground floor of the house, as if being sucked into it. The rails continued into an earth-floored room on the ground floor, and there the cable car terminated. On our right was a cooking area, including a hearth, water jugs, pails and other requisites. On the left was a raised wooden floor that must have measured about forty square yards. As the cable car came to a halt, the far end of this wooden floor formed a kind of platform.

On the wooden floor, about thirty people, including elders and children, had gathered to hold a wake. They knelt on floor cushions, eating, drinking and talking as others paid their respects.

The cable-winching machinery was fixed high in the ceiling of the earth-floored room. Looking up, I could see two large pulley wheels wound with cables. The wheels were attached to thick beams and crossbeams, from which families of bats were hanging. The ceiling over the earth-floored room was so high and dark that I couldn’t even see it.

A man of about fifty, his face red from drinking, got up and climbed into our carriage through the open door.

“Well, that were quick, Sasuke,” he said.

“Yea, I came back as soon as I got the letter,” the bearded man said, then pointed to me. “This gentleman wanted to go to Four Bends, so I advised him to take the Main Line,” he explained to the red-faced man.

The red-faced man stared at me in wonderment. “What? But if he goes to Deer’s Wood now, he’ll be waiting four hours and a bit before the train to Four Bends arrives!”

“I know, I know,” said the bearded man apologetically. “I just weren’t thinking straight. I thought he’d be able to catch the one before it. What a great fool I am.”

“Well, seeing as you’re here now, why not join us for a while?” the red-faced man said to me. “You must have a drink before you go.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t!” I replied, shaking my head. “I’d be disturbing the wake.”

“Nonsense. You’d be welcome. You’ve four hours to kill, haven’t you? We’ll make sure the driver gets you to Deer’s Wood in time for your train.”

Now the bearded man joined him in coaxing me out of the cable car. I could hardly refuse their kindness, so I got out of the carriage and took my place on the wooden floor.

“Have you brought someone from your travels?” asked a white-whiskered old man sitting in the place of honour at the head of the coffin. I assumed he must be the Village Elder.

“This gentleman was going to Four Bends, so I advised him to take the Main Line,” explained the bearded man.

“That’s good,” answered the old man with a smile.

I followed the bearded man as he proceeded to the coffin, which was covered with a white cloth. After lighting some incense, I returned to my space on the floor.

“Come on, girls! The guest is waiting for a drink!” the red-faced man called in a sonorous voice.

The noise was enough to wake a girl of about seventeen or eighteen who was sleeping with a group of children in a corner of the room. Sitting up abruptly, she rubbed her eyes and looked at me with a dazed expression. Her face was white and perfectly beautiful.

“We are but rustic folk, we haven’t much to offer,” said a middle-aged woman who closely resembled the girl. She placed a dish full of cooked wild vegetables in front of me, and poured me some liquor from a small earthen bottle.

“Thank you,” I said, taking a sip. The liquor was thick and dry, and tasted exceedingly good.

“By the way, who was it that passed away?” I asked the middle-aged woman.

“My uncle it was.”

“Your uncle? Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

People in this village seemed to live long. Besides the Village Elder, there were four other men and about seven women who must have been well over eighty. The men all had thick beards and large round eyes, and the women must all have been beauties in their time.

The men started talking amongst themselves. The return of the bearded man seemed to have brought a new buzz to the proceedings. Even the sleeping children were starting to sit up. The beautiful girl who’d been sleeping with them was now serving food and drink, together with the other women. Everyone called her Luna. There were three other girls of around her age, and they were all pretty. But none of them could match Luna’s beauty.

The red-faced man seemed especially partial to drink, and kept coming over to pour me another. When I returned the compliment by filling his cup, he would drink it down in one and proffer his cup again.

“What’s up? Do you not like drinking?” he asked.

“No, it’s not that. This liquor really is delicious.”

“Yes! It’s a local brew called ‘Morning Monkey’.”

An hour passed, and then another. The gathering grew more raucous by the minute. By now, I’d been given about three earthen bottles of “Morning Monkey” and was beginning to feel quite drunk.

“Come on, drink up!” said the red-faced man as he came to pour me another cupful.

“Sorry, I’m feeling a bit woozy,” I said. “If I have a drop more, I’ll be under the table. And then I won’t be able to continue my journey. Could I possibly have a glass of water?” I asked.

The red-faced man looked around him. “Oy! The guest would like a cold drink!”

“I’ll get it!”

Luna, who happened to be nearby, hopped down onto the earthen floor, stepped over the cable-car rails and crossed to the kitchen area. There, she opened a huge refrigerator and took out a bottle of Coca-Cola, which she brought over to me.

“Will you leave this village when you get married?” I asked her after taking a swig.

Luna looked at me blankly, with no sign of embarrassment. “Why, yes. Most of the women here marry men from Boar’s Wood or Deer’s Wood. Sometimes the husbands come to live here, and sometimes people from Bear’s Wood even marry each other.”

Someone called her, so she left me and started serving liquor again. The other women were all dressed in rustic garments. Only Luna was wearing jeans and a sweater.

As the night wore on, the women found themselves with less to do, and started taking turns snoozing with the children in the corner. Two young girls slept with their feet facing me. Each time they turned in their sleep, I was presented with the sight of their milky white thighs. I hardly knew where to look.

The men started clapping a beat.

“Come on, then! Who’s ready to sing?” called the Village Elder, beaming.

“Who’s ready to dance?” said the bearded man.

“All right then, I am!” The red-faced man got up and moved to the centre of the floor.

Everyone started laughing. He was obviously very popular.

The red-faced man glanced over at me. “Well, seeing that we have a guest, let us now sing the Song of Bear’s Wood!” he said loudly.

With that, the whole place erupted. Luna and the others knelt down on the wooden floor, clutched their trays to their stomachs and laughed aloud. This must be a funny song, I thought. I started clapping my hands in time with the others.

The red-faced man now started to dance a very curious sort of dance. As he did, he sang in a clear, penetrating voice:

Nanjoray Kumanocky!

Kanjoray Eenocky!

Nockay Nottaraka,

Hockay Hottaraka,

Tockay To-to-to-to-to!

The men and women were rolling across the floor with laughter. Even the girls and children sleeping in the corner had woken up.

The red-faced man returned to his seat amid tumultuous applause. Now everyone started clapping hands in time.

“Who’s next?”

“Let us have more!”

It seemed they would continue the Song of Bear’s Wood.

The bearded man moved to the centre of the room.

“Yea! It’s me now!”

That alone was enough to set off eddies of laughter.

The bearded man started to dance in a way that differed just slightly from the red-faced man’s effort. In a rich, deep voice he sang:

Nanjoray Kumanocky!

Kanjoray Eenocky!

Yockay Yottaraka,

Ockay Ottaraka,

Kockay Ko-ko-ko-ko-ko!

Well, this was so funny that even I was gripping my belly. The men, and even the women, were bent double with laughter, tears streaming down their cheeks. The children were upturned on the floor, feet shaking uncontrollably in the air. Not only was the song out of tune and utterly nonsensical, but the dance was so completely absurd as to be from another world. Whoever sang or danced it, guffaws of laughter would surely ensue.

With the opening “Nanjoray Kumanocky!,” the dancer would arch his upper body to the right, as if to depict a great mountain. Then, with “Kanjoray Eenocky!,” he would depict a mountain to the left. Then he would hop to the right and adopt a pose, then hop to the left and adopt the same pose in reverse. Finally, he would lift one leg, screw up his face, and hop along like a chicken.

“Who’s next? Who’s next?”

At last the laughter died down, and the clapping started again. They all seemed to be in some kind of frenzy. I began to feel carried along with it myself.

A lightly built, affable old man moved to the centre of the room. He resembled the Village Elder, though not such an imposing figure.

Everyone burst into laughter again. The women and children shrieked with merriment as they clapped to the rhythm. The old man must have been particularly popular with them. Baring his gnarled old arms and legs, he danced with great skill and sang in a husky voice:

Nanjoray Kumanocky!

Kanjoray Eenocky!

Sockay Sottaraka,

Mockay Mottaraka,

Dockay Do-do-do-do-do!

Some laughed so much they were gasping for breath, clutching their chests. Others were in convulsions, still others had collapsed on the floor. The din was so loud that the house seemed ready to burst. I had tears of mirth in my eyes, and my head was starting to feel numb.

The clapping started again.

“Who’s next, who’s next?!”

“Let us do the whole hog!”

“All do it in turns, all in turns!”

The driver of the train danced out from his place in the corner to the centre of the wooden-floored room. The mere sight of that was so comical that the women were already laughing hysterically. He was obviously an accomplished buffoon. As I reeled with laughter, a thought flitted dimly across the back of my mind. If this funny man were to dance the same dance as the others, I might just die laughing, or failing that, go stark raving mad.

The train driver started to dance, singing in a crazy high-pitched voice:

Nanjoray Kumanocky!

Kanjoray Eenocky!

Kuckay Kuttaraka,

Zockay Zottaraka,

Pockay Po-po-po-po-po!

I was pole-axed, laughing so much I could hardly breathe. Some of the women just couldn’t bear it any longer. They ran across the wooden floor, jumped down to the earthen floor, crossed to the hearthplace and crouched down there for comfort. Next, the young man sitting next to the driver was urged out by the clapping, and moved to the centre with a sheepish look. It really seemed that everyone would have to sing and dance in turn. As I clapped time with the others, I wondered if I would have to join in as well. Because if that were the case, I would be next in line. The young man started to dance, singing in a woeful voice:

Nanjoray Kumanocky!

Kanjoray Eenocky!

Sickay Sittaraka,

Gockay Gottaraka,

Kackay Ka-ka-ka-ka-ka!

By now, they’d repeated the song so many times that even I knew more or less how it went. As long as you started with “Nanjoray Kumanocky! Kanjoray Eenocky!,” you could change the second part as you felt fit.

The young man returned to his seat, accompanied by a thunderous ovation. Now they all started clapping the beat again, and smiled over at me. I hesitated for a moment. Perhaps it would seem a bit impertinent of me, a stranger, to sing and dance in front of these people. But they were evidently expecting just that. And besides, I’d been so generously wined and dined. It would have been rude not to dance for them.

As I dithered, the Village Elder, still clapping to the beat, suggested: “Well. P’raps our dance is a bit too hard for the guest.”

That got me up on my feet. “No, no. I’ll do the dance!” I said.

Everyone applauded. “The guest will do the dance!” they exclaimed.

“Good old guest, good old guest!”

Luna and the other women now came closer, and watched with looks of expectation.

This dance was funny, whoever danced it. So the same should be true for me. First, I moved to the middle of the room. Then, after swaying two or three times in rhythm with the clapping, I started to sing the song and dance the dance.

Nanjoray Kumanocky!

Kanjoray Eenocky!

Buckay Buttaraka,

Yackay Yattaraka,

Bockay Bo-bo-bo-bo-bo!

I finished the song, I finished the dance. Laughing aloud at my own foolishness, I waited for the plaudits. And then I noticed.

Not a single person was laughing.

All of them – the Village Elder and the other seniors, the bearded man, the women – they’d all stopped clapping, and now cast their heads down with uneasy looks. The red-faced man and the train driver, visibly paler now, examined the bottoms of their liquor cups and scratched their heads in embarrassment. Even Luna, standing there on the earthen floor, looked down awkwardly at her feet.

I knew I shouldn’t have done it, I thought as I flopped down onto the floor. I, a stranger, had danced the dance badly and ruined the wake.

With trepidation, I turned to the Village Elder to apologize. “I really am very sorry,” I said. “I, a stranger, have danced your dance badly and ruined your wake.”

“No, no. That’s not the problem.” The Village Elder lifted his face and looked at me with pity, shaking his head. “You sang and danced most well. Almost too well, in fact, for an outsider.”

“Oh?” I said. Maybe I was wrong to dance too well! “In that case, why did no one laugh as they did before?”

“The words you sang were not good.”

I looked at him in disbelief. “The words? But all I did was sing nonsense, like everyone else!”

“That’s true,” the Village Elder replied. “The others all sang nonsense because they were trying not to sing the real words. But you, intending to sing nonsense, accidentally sang the real words.”

“The real words?!” I said, aghast. “You mean, what I sang was the real Song of Bear’s Wood? That Bockay Bo-bo-bo-bo-bo?”

The very sound drew gasps and moans from the villagers as they squirmed in their seats.

“Why?” I asked the Village Elder as if to cross-examine him. “What is wrong with singing the real words?”

The Village Elder started to explain. “The Song of Bear’s Wood, it’s taboo. We’re forbidden to sing it. It’s been passed down since olden days here in Bear’s Wood, but we’re not allowed to sing it out loud in front of folk. For if we sing it out loud, something terrible will surely happen to this country of ours.”

“Oh?” I said with mounting incredulity. “You mean this whole country we’re living in?”

“That’s right.”

Superstitious nonsense! I just wanted to laugh it off. They’d all ganged up to make a fool of me. But as I looked around again, it didn’t seem like a joke at all. They all wore genuinely gloomy expressions and looked quite crestfallen.

I felt a shudder. Then I turned again to the Village Elder. “Please don’t make fun of me!” I begged. “I’m quite superstitious, you know, for my age!”

“There’s nothing superstitious about it,” said the Village Elder, looking at me sternly for the first time. “Whenever someone from this hamlet accidentally sings the song, something terrible happens to this country of ours. So we take special care to tell everyone, adults and children, not to sing it. But every now and then, some parent, through lack of care or attention, lets a child sing it, for whatever reason. And every time that happens, some awful disaster or misfortune afflicts this country. Well, until now, it’s only been children, so the punishment has not been too bad. It’s never been so bad that the whole country has gone to ruin. But tonight, a fine young man like yourself has come, and has sung the song, so loudly, so well. The punishment will surely be severe.”

“I just didn’t know.” An involuntary cry of anguish issued from my throat. “All I did was sing nonsense. I didn’t know what it meant! Will there be punishment even for that?”

“There will,” the Village Elder replied with horrible certainty.

I buried my head in my hands. “Why did you let me do the dance?” I cried. “If the song is so taboo and dangerous, why did everyone urge me to sing it? You’re all responsible too, you know! And anyway, why did you start singing the Song of Bear’s Wood in the middle of a wake?! Didn’t you think someone might just sing the real words by mistake?”

“It’s true. We’re partly to blame as well,” said the red-faced man, who’d been the first to dance. He spoke with true remorse, and shifted uneasily in his seat.

“Yes. We’d be wrong to put all the blame on you,” echoed the Village Elder, looking at me with sorrowful eyes. “The reason why we do so enjoy singing the Song of Bear’s Wood is that, one day, someone might just sing the real words by accident. It’s so miraculously funny, because the singer puts us all in a state of nervous excitement. And deeper down, there’s a feeling of pride that our clan holds the key to this country’s fate. That makes the song even funnier. On top of that, we all got a bit carried away tonight. When you said you would do the dance, I had a bit of a foreboding. I’ll wager the others did too. But none of us could ever have imagined, not even in our wildest dreams, that you would go and sing the real and proper words, sound for sound, without a single mistake from beginning to end. We were all just enjoying the thrill, the sense of danger. And now it has ended in this.”

I was almost crying. “Is there no way of purging it?” I asked.

They all shook their heads as one.

“No. There’s no way,” the Village Elder replied. “Well, what’s done is done. Let us not think too much about what might happen to our country now.”

“Yes, let us not think about it,” echoed the others, doing their best to console me.

“There’s no point tormenting yourself, thinking what might happen.”

“Put it out of your mind.”

“Do not concern yourself.”

Could I help concerning myself, I wondered.

The driver stood up. “Right, then,” he said. “Had we better be on our way? It’s half-past three.”

“Yes. You send the guest off, will you,” said the Village Elder.

“Goodbye then,” I said.

I got up with a heavy heart and bowed to them all.

The men and women all bowed back in silence. Luna, half hiding behind the middle-aged woman who looked remarkably like her, nodded to me from the earth-floored room.

I climbed back into the cable car. The young driver took me back down to the foot of the mountain, and from there to the little station at Deer’s Wood.

Just as he was leaving, the driver turned to me. “Would you kindly not say anything to anyone about this Bear’s Wood Main Line, or our Bear’s Wood clan, or the song just now?” he asked.

“Of course,” I replied. “I have no intention of telling anyone at all.”

Two days later, I finally returned home. And ever since then, I’ve been waiting, nervously waiting, wondering every day what terrible catastrophe will befall our nation. So far, to the best of my knowledge, nothing seems to have happened at all. Sometimes I think they were just making fun of me after all. But maybe, just maybe, something awful might just be about to happen. Or perhaps it already has happened, and I’m the only one not to know about it. Perhaps something really, really terrible is happening to our country at this very moment…