“This genius devised a game-changing speed-reading system in response to our modern times. Now, he’s totally abandoned his research to spend hours on end reading one single book. This gifted academic—who used to be able to read ten books in a day—has become an ordinary person. These days, he takes a whole month to finish one. His own books once took the world by storm. But now they’ve stopped selling, and the requests for lectures that once came pouring in have dried up completely.”
“What exactly are you showing me here?” said Rintaro.
“I’m showing you the gap between idealism and reality. And I’m not done yet.”
The woman waved her hand upward toward the ceiling. A third screen had appeared, displaying a tall skyscraper. It was the third labyrinth.
The perspective moved through the corridors of the huge, gray building to the familiar scene of the company president’s office with its three sides of windows. Or at least it must have been the same room, but it had been given a complete makeover. The chandelier, the red velvet curtains, and the plush sofa set were all gone, giving the room a much simpler appearance. The space was packed instead with men in red, blue, or black suits, noisily conversing.
“This will put the company out of business!” yelled a man in a red suit.
“Books that aren’t selling need to be taken out of print immediately.”
“Wasn’t it you who told us that readers are looking for something provocative and easy to read?”
The men in suits all hurled their complaints in the direction of an elderly gentleman, small in stature. The company president, once so laid-back in his demeanor, now sat with his hands on top of his bowed head.
“The president changed the company’s policy. He stopped putting poor sellers out of print, and even started reprinting some older, hard-to-find titles that had been abandoned. As a result, the company’s performance went into a decline, and he’s under pressure to step down as president.”
The woman turned her eyes from the ceiling and back onto Rintaro.
“This is all the result of your glorious adventures,” she said in a cold voice. “What do you think?”
“It’s terrible,” Rintaro managed to squeak out.
The room was chilly. The cold had seeped all the way into Rintaro’s body and was oozing down his back. An uncomfortable feeling of nausea seemed to block his whole chest.
“Your words have had a great effect on them, and their circumstances, too. But do you believe it was a good outcome?”
“Well, they didn’t look very happy.”
“So would you say you’ve done something reprehensible?”
“What are you trying to tell me?”
“I’m not telling you. I want to hear you say it.” Her voice was quiet. “I don’t have any definitive answers as to what’s right and what’s wrong. Maybe in the end that’s the reason I called you here. You confronted those three men in order to save books. You dared to exchange words with them and as a result had a lasting impact on their philosophy. You succeeded in changing their values, but as a result, they’re all now in trouble. If they have to suffer like that, what was the point of what you did?”
Rintaro had never given that question much thought. It’d be fair to say he’d never expected to be asked.
Rintaro had never had a game plan—he was simply expressing his own opinions. He hadn’t really expected the three adversaries to change their ways, especially not to this extent. And he had never imagined that anyone could end up suffering as a result of his words.
Rintaro stared at the three screens in total bewilderment.
“It’s a sad old world, don’t you think?” said the woman, staring off into space. “People accessorize themselves with books, or stuff themselves with their knowledge and then toss them away. Others think if they pile the books up high enough, they’ll be able to see further. But—”