By the time Dancer returned, Ogi was sunk in a state of sad self-pity.
She had a sullen look on her face and her upturned nose wrinkled as she gave Ogi a cool glance and turned without a word for the ICU's exit. Experienc- ing again the uncomfortable sensation of the adhesive tape sucking at his heels, Ogi came to a halt at the double doors that should have opened in toward them; he froze for a moment, unable to think, as Dancer roughly reached out and punched the automatic button.
"What a grouch that doctor is. He's so pessimistic. He talked about brain death," Dancer said, unable to hide her displeasure, as she came to a halt in front of the bank of elevators. "Guide's brain is still swelling, he told me. At this rate the dark opening you could see in the middle of his brain in the CT scan might very well burst. I asked if they were taking any steps to reduce the swelling, but he didn't say a thing."
Dancer drove her Pajero out toward the intersection of Koshu Boule- vard, and Ogi glanced at his watch; he should be able to make it over to the foundation's headquarters before it closed for the day, he thought. He didn't have the courage to tell Dancer to turn left and take him to Shinjuku Station; instead, he just asked her to stop the car up ahead somewhere. But Dancer's reaction was convulsively severe; she was furious. "Where do you think you're going? You're going to run away? You see what shape he's in, and you want to leave me to take care of him all by myself?"
Just before the intersection the Pajero came to a stop, horns blasting behind it; the engine had stalled, quaking like a person with something stuck in his throat. Her face downturned, barbs of hatred shooting out in all direc- tions, Dancer struggled to get the car moving again and managed to pull onto the shoulder. Ogi realized with a start that she was crying, her shoulders under her white sweater quivering as she sobbed. Ogi didn't know what to do, so he just sat tight, as he usually did in cases like this. Then he got out and, more horns blaring at him, eased around to the other side of the car and got in on the driver's side. Dancer obediently moved over and, sinking back in her seat, covered her face with her lovely fingers, as Ogi started the car and moved into the traffic.
A mere ten minutes later, though, she had pulled herself together, wiped away her tears, and faced straight ahead. In her usual whispery voice, now a bit husky, she told Ogi the following, the whole thing striking him as a bit overly logical.
When Dancer had made up her mind to leave Asahikawa for Tokyo to pur- sue dancing, her father introduced her to his good friend Guide, who'd been his classmate in the science department in college. Her father was aware that Guide and Patron had been founders of a religious group but saw no reason to change his opinion that Guide was a trustworthy person. Dancer had seen TV reports on the religious group and was a little anxious, but she also de- cided to trust Guide and moved to Tokyo. Guide and Patron gave her a room in the office where they lived-albeit an inactive office-and in return she did housework for them. Around the time they started calling her Dancer, her duties smoothly shifted over to also being their personal secretary.
While she still lived in Hokkaido, Dancer had held her own recital, and a newspaper reporter in Sapporo had written a glowing review of it that had, m fact, been the push she needed to come to Tokyo. When she told the re- porter where she was now living, he wrote to tell her that not only had Patron and Guide renounced their church, they had made their whole religious doc- trine a laughingstock. They'd sold out to the authorities the radical faction in the church that had moved away from religious to political activities.
Dancer wasn't fazed. She didn't care what philosophy or beliefs the two might have had or what had become of it all; instead, she cherished the warm feelings she had for these two elderly men who welcomed her into their home and allowed her the freedom to do as she pleased. And when she listened to them talk to her about religious matters-either the doctrines they'd re- nounced or some entirely new ideas; she had no idea which-she found her- self drawn to them even more.
At this point Dancer was still unaware that Patron used to fall into unusual, deep trances. One time Patron fell into a deep melancholy, the first time it had happened since she'd moved into their office, and those few dark days left a lasting impression on her, as did the general relief when this cen- tral figure in their lives was finally able to shake free of his melancholy. After this episode, when Patron was excitedly talking with Guide, Dancer overheard what he said as she did some ironing on the divider separating the living and dining rooms.
"What I just went through," Patron told Guide, "wasn't like the trances I used to have. That's all I'm going to say about it for now, but I will say this: If only we had insisted from the beginning that our church was trying to accomplish something a hundred years in the future-in other words, that we were preparing for events that would occur at the end of the twenty-first century-we wouldn't have had to go through that unfortunate confronta- tion with the radical faction. Anybody can see that a hundred years from now all mankind will be forced to repent. It's obvious that mankind won't be able to avoid a total deadlock. And yet here we are, the advanced countries with their booming consumer culture and third-world countries lusting after the same, like something straight out of the Old Testament-pleasure-seeking cities like Sodom and Gomorrah on the eve of destruction.
"What we should have done was emphasize the need for mankind to re- pent in the face of this ultimate trial awaiting us a hundred years from now.
That's the foundation on which we should have built our church and prepared for the battles ahead. We should have preached that people should prepare over the next hundred years for the total repentance and salvation of mankind.
'When you consider the two thousand years since Jesus, a hundred years isn't such a long time. During the next hundred years we'll see new technology that will dominate over the next millennium. We have to begin now, not slack off; we have to continue our efforts.' That's what we should have said."
Guide impressed Dancer as a decisive person, but she'd never seen him speak his mind clearly, and though he was always kind to her she found him taciturn and hard to approach. But now he responded promptly, and Dancer could understand how very apt his name was.
"A hundred years, though, is a long time," Guide said. "I agree we should preach that a mere century separates us from inevitable destruction; nevertheless, if you actually live through a hundred years, it is a long time.
I'm always reminded of the group of women who viewed our Somersault as a descent into hell. They will face the next hundred years ever mindful of our fall. In the commune they live in, they're keeping the faith, patiently striving to make it through one year after another toward the hundred. But how do they instill this in their members-a way of living a hundred years one year at a time? How to keep the faith and not be taken advantage of by the radical faction?"
After this, Dancer began to pay close attention to Patron and Guide's conversations, she told Ogi, and even now, when they weren't engaged in religious activities, just working in their office helped her find the kind of happiness a true believer must feel. But now, just when she sensed that Patron was about to revive his religious activities for the first time in a decade, Guide collapses with a brain aneurysm and loses consciousness, and Patron goes into shock. Other than myself and Guide, who's ill, she told him, you're the one person who's closest to Patron. How can you abandon him and go back to your job?