I decided to engage Yamazaki in a discussion about this sensation. After a moment, I became unsure what was really going on. “Huh, have we had this discussion before?”

“What are you saying, Satou? I have no idea what—”

“Wait just a second. Let me think carefully about it.”

Lying face down on the floor, I thought as hard as I could. When I did, I was able to remember… I was a soldier from an ancient civilization several thousands of years ago, who had transmigrated through time and space to come to this world. Naturally, I decided to keep this revelation from Yamazaki. It was a gravely important secret, after all.

After a little while passed, Yamazaki broke in on my thoughts. “You should breathe. You’re dying.”

I breathed. I came back to life. Sincerely thanking Yamazaki, I pondered the way that the world was wrapped in love. I bowed my head to say, “Thank you, thank you.”

However, as if to balance out my return to life, Yamazaki abruptly acted like he was in extreme physical distress. Clutching his throat, he rolled about on the floor, writhing in agony. When I asked, “What’s wrong?” he just uttered an inhuman cry and, without speaking, continued convulsing.

Finally, he picked up a notebook and ballpoint pen in order to communicate the problem to me. Hands shaking, he wrote something down in the notebook.

Taking my time, I carefully deciphered his letters: “I forgot how to use my voice.”

Yamazaki gripped his throat, looking miserable. I whacked his back as hard as I could.

“Ouch!” he said, and then he gave me a thumbs-up. His broad smile returned.

I decided it was time for us to head out. It was already the middle of the night, so I wasn’t afraid that we’d be seen by the police or any neighbors.

We headed toward the neighborhood park. Yamazaki was walking like a robot. Maybe he really was a robot. In the end, could I have such thoughts and also be human? I found the idea a little mysterious.

At that point, I tried banging my head against the streetlamp in the park. This was bad: It didn’t hurt. It didn’t hurt at all. I am actually a robot…

Thus, I discovered a new truth.

Be that as it may, the park at night was wonderful. Though the streetlamps were the only light source, the park shone and glowed like a photograph taken using a long exposure. The park was full of life. Everything there pulsed with life: the gentle creaking of the old bench, the steady breathing of massive trees lining the road, the dynamic twists of the branches and leaves. All this, every last thing was alive.

While I was transfixed by the scene, Yamazaki said, “I can hear music.”

I heard it, too. From somewhere in the park, inexplicably beautiful music was playing.