Ruined Map - Abe Kobo [57]
It suddenly occurred to me that this might be the real reason I was putting off telephoning her. I was overcome by a strange sense of shame, as if I were looking at myself peering through the wrong end of a pair of binoculars in front of a mirror. Though I had not been asked and I myself was unaware of having done it, had I unthinkingly signed a receipt for over thirty thousand yen? Ludicrous. Among my fellow investigators nothing would be considered so ridiculous. As the chief was always saying, a client’s not a person; think of him as food to stuff our craws. We’re a bunch of syphilitic curs.
Actually, binoculars, if used in a certain way, give the effect of X ray. For instance, you can read more expressions and characteristics from a single photo of a given person than you can by meeting him face to face. First you set the photo up vertically and if possible remove the ears and darken the background. Adjust the source of light so there is no reflection. Then kneel at a distance about twenty or thirty times the length of the diagonal of the photo. No, you don’t really have to kneel, but the picture should be at eye level. Use binoculars with a rather narrow angle of vision and a magnifying power of about fifty times. You can fill in the background any way you will by your imagination; and any trembling of your hand, rather than being detrimental, will actually help in lending mobility to the expression. At first you see only a magnified picture at a distance of about a yard. You’ve got to keep at it at least ten minutes. Then about the time the strain makes the eyeballs feel hottish, an ordinary photo suddenly begins to take on a three-dimensional aspect and the skin becomes flesh-colored. When that happens, you’ve got it. You concentrate fixedly without blinking and you strain your eyes to the point of feeling pain. It’s as if your stare cannot be endured, and the eyes in the picture, or the corners of the lips, twitch spasmodically. If it’s a side view, the face will seem to look askance at you; if the face is looking directly at you it will avert its glance and repeatedly blink. Next, as if nerve tendrils were stretching out and commingling in the space between the picture’s eyes, its lips, and other elements of expression and your own, you begin to be able to read what lies beyond the expression as if it were your own mind. What is most important is that you see private things, things that are never exposed to others. (I had tried it once before going out, and I would never have overlooked the missing man even if I were to pass him on some escalator going in the opposite direction.) He—the husband—bit down hard on his right inner molar, projected his lower lip and half opened his eyes; his eyes moved unstably around his feet at a thirty-degree angle, and his feelings, not once ruffled, as usual carefully combed and held in place with oil, now rose up threateningly like the fur on a cat’s back in the face of an enemy. For an instant it was the husband, with a forlorn expression he had never exposed to anyone. The method was an original technique of observation I had thought up myself, and when I saw that among my fellow investigators it was rather well thought of, I was quite pleased with myself. The chief thought differently. He thought any enthusiasm, as such, stupid.
Of course, ideally, the time of observation should be at night. And you’ve got to spend at least two hours at it. Furthermore, have an imaginary meal with the subject; be his superior and issue orders; be a colleague and listen to his complaints; be a subordinate and be reprimanded. If it’s a question of a woman