The Ark Sakura Read Free

the eupcaccia as a travel accessory.
    The student went off with a look of uneasiness. I had no intention of stopping him. Even apart from his boorish way of slurping his noodles, his approach to life was obviously wanting in gravity. The eupcaccia promised to become a useful litmus test, I thought, one that gave me an objective standard for deciding among potential crewmen. Anyone who showed no curiosity about such an insect—the fulcrum of a compass with which to draw the circumference of the very earth—was simply too insensitive to merit serious consideration.
    I felt far greater interest in the young couple who had bought a eupcaccia before me. Where could they have gone? They were the ones I should have sounded out. Why did I never make the most of my opportunities? On second thought, however, the man anyway was no loss. He had been too restless, as if there were a Ping-Pong game going on inside his head. Hardly the type to adapt well to the life of a mole. The girl was another matter; she certainly would bear careful investigation. It had been her idea to buy the eupcaccia; besides, it was only logical that my first crew member should be a woman. Savoring the coldness of the ice in my mouth, I turned regretful thoughts of her over in my mind. Why hadn’t I spoken up right then? By now we might have been fast friends, based on our mutual interest in the eupcaccia. The only problem was the nature of her relationship with that man. If they were married, or anything like it, my hopes were wasted. Of course the eupcaccia itself belonged to the realm of soliloquy. It was hardly the sort of thing you’d expect a married couple to purchase together. On the other hand, I had to admit that unmarried couples who behave like man and wife are rare—far rarer than married couples who behave like mutual strangers.
    Time to go. I had already had the amazing good fortune to stumble on the eupcaccia; it wouldn’t do to be greedy for more. And on a windy day like this I couldn’t drive after dark along that rocky ledge by the coast: salt spray would rust out the body of the jeep.
    A shadow fell on the seat just vacated by the student. Conspicuously large cranium, heavy glasses for nearsightedness, dingy skin—it was the insect salesman. He unwrapped a sandwich and dragged a chair up, scraping it loudly against the floor. He still hadn’t seen me. It wasn’t an amazing coincidence that we should end up face to face, considering there were only a few seats vacant. He peeled off the top slice of bread from his sandwich, rolled it up into a cylinder, and began to take careful bites, sipping now and then from a can of coffee.
    “Taking a break?” I said.
    The insect dealer stopped chewing and looked up slowly. “You talking to me?”
    “Don’t you remember me? You just sold me a eupcaccia a few minutes ago.”
    For several seconds he continued to stare at me silently, through lenses so thick they seemed bulletproof. He seemed wary. Was it my weight? People tend to equate obesity with imbecility. Members of the opposite sex are distant, those of one’s own sex derisive. Fat is even an obstacle to finding employment. The ratio of body size to brain size suggests unflattering analogies to whales and dinosaurs. I don’t even like fat people myself—despite the obvious irony—and I generally avoid getting into conversations with them if I can help it.
    “What’s the matter? You want your money back, is that it?”
    In the back of my mind I still had reservations about the eupcaccia, but I didn’t want them forced into the open. I was in no mood to hear a confession.
    “Not at all. I’m very happy with my eupcaccia. It’s given me a lot to think about. Did you collect all those specimens yourself? They say environmental pollution is getting so bad that insects are disappearing all over the place. Some dealers have to raise their own, I’ve heard.”
    “Yes, and some go even further—they conjure up nonexistent specimens