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Transgressing Death in
Japanese Popular Culture

Miguel Cesar
Transgressing Death in Japanese Popular Culture
 Miguel Cesar

Transgressing Death
in Japanese Popular
Culture
Miguel Cesar
University of Edinburgh
Edinburgh, UK

ISBN 978-3-030-50879-1    ISBN 978-3-030-50880-7 (eBook)

https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-50880-7

© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer
Nature Switzerland AG 2020
This work is subject to copyright. All rights are solely and exclusively licensed by the
Publisher, whether the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of
translation, reprinting, reuse of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on
microfilms or in any other physical way, and transmission or information storage and retrieval,
electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or dissimilar methodology now
known or hereafter developed.
The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this
publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are
exempt from the relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use.
The publisher, the authors and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and information
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This Palgrave Pivot imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature
Switzerland AG.
The registered company address is: Gewerbestrasse 11, 6330 Cham, Switzerland
 A meu bo amigo Carlos
To my good friend Carlos
 Acknowledgements

I would like to thank Chris Perkins, Helen Parker, Ian Astley and Rayna
Denison for their help throughout the research that lead to my PhD thesis
and this book.
This book began as a thesis at the University of Edinburgh at the
Department for Japanese Studies. I would like to thank my peers and
friends from the postgraduate research groups at Edinburgh and Madrid
for their help and very useful comments.
Thanks to my friends, and especially to Carlos Verde for his help, time
and support throughout the duration of my PhD and the writing of this
book. Although he will not see this book published, he has been a key
part of it.
And finally, thanks to Clara Martin for her support, patience and
understanding.

vii
 Contents

1 Introduction  1
Death and Afterlife in Japan   6
Japanese Secularization   8
Contemporary Discourses, New Media  10
Japanese Popular Culture  12
Chapters’ Overview  15
References  18

2 A Genealogy of the EBT Conversation in Japan 23

The Relevance of the Kojiki to the EBT Conversation  24
Scholarly Approaches to the Kojiki  25
Post-Kojiki Conversations in Premodern Japan  27
The Conversation in Modern Japan  31
Contemporary Japan: Everything Solid Melts into Air  37
References  47

3 Transgressing Boundaries: Exile and Loneliness 49

Manga, Ontology and Phenomenology  51
Methods for the Study of Manga  53
The Story of Fullmetal Alchemist  56
Life and Death Transgressions in Fullmetal Alchemist  56
The First Scene  57
The 2nd Scene  61
The 3rd Scene  64

ix
x Contents

Discussion  68
Alchemist in EBT Intertextuality  68
Contemporary Debates in Alchemist’s EBT  70
Civilization, Power and State  70
The Individual and the Group  71
Content and Medium  73
Conclusion  74
References  76

4 Rebellion and Transgression in “Journey to Agartha” 79

Theory and Methodology  81
Animating Transgression  82
EBT Polyphony, Tensions and Confrontations  83
Resurrecting Her  87
Discussion  94
Conclusion  97
References  98

5 Tragic Transgressions in Shadow of the Colossus101

Experiencing Transgression Through Computer Games 103
Analysing Transgression in Computer Games 104
Transgressing the Boundaries of Life and Death
in Shadow of the Colossus 106
The Structure of Shadow 107
Playing the EBT in Shadow 112
The Mechanics of the EBT 113
Shadow of the Colossus as Ethical Experience 116
Conclusion 123
References 124

6 Conclusions127
Contributions of the Work 130
Research Implications 132
Final Words 135
References 135

Index137
 CHAPTER 1

Introduction

Abstract This chapter introduces both the theme of this book, the narra-
tive structure that I call EBT (Essential Boundary Transgression), and the
Japanese context in which it originates. First, the chapter explains the the-
ory behind the conceptualization of Boundaries and their Transgression.
This is followed by an overview of Japanese meditations on death as a
phenomenon and a perennial enigma. It follows different historical
approaches to death and afterlife, from ancient Japan, pre-Buddhist times,
the configuration of death explanations through Buddhism, and the frag-
mentation of secular Japan. It argues that the fragmentation of contempo-
rary Japan has led to a polyphonic conversation on death, its nature and
significance that has been approached through different narrative chan-
nels; popular culture being a privileged conductor of such explorations.
The chapter emphasizes the relevance of popular culture and justifies its
study for they are the new ways in which perennial themes are being dis-
cussed. Finally, the chapter concludes with an overview of the structure of
the book, the main arguments of each chapter and the overall argument
that the EBT is a recurrent narrative human construction which, conse-
quently, incorporates to its structure changes from the authors’ contexts,
including their hopes, worries and cosmologies.

Keywords Japan • Secularization • Death • Rites • Anthropology of

communication • Visuality

© The Author(s) 2020 1

M. Cesar, Transgressing Death in Japanese Popular Culture,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-50880-7_1
2 M. CESAR

Ghosts, resurrections, afterlife specialists, collective rituals of the death

show the deep interest, if not obsession, of the Japanese on the phenom-
enon of death. Thus, it is not strange that the most popular ritual in Japan,
the o-bon, is about the reencounter with the dead, ancestors and the rela-
tives that have passed away. And this recurrence of death, that keen inter-
est, has permeated not only communal or individual rituals but also
discursive and narrative manifestations. One of the main reasons has to do
with death elusiveness, its fluid nature. Thus, death’s centrality originates
from the inaccessible nature of the phenomenon itself, allowing and
requiring speculative exploration in narrative forms. Such dynamics have
produced a longstanding conversation regarding the possible conse-
quences of death and its connections to life.
This book studies how the long-lasting theme of life and death connec-
tions have been explored through Japanese contemporary media such as
manga, anime and computer games. Here I study the shape this ancient
debate has taken in the context of the Second Lost Decade of Japan
(2000–2010) and its representation through new visual media. This study
engages the way each medium explores the theme of life and death con-
nections through its medial tools, their content, and their relation to the
context from which they originate. The aim is threefold. First, to under-
stand the intertextual connections between context and text. That is, to
explore the influence of the Second Lost Decade on the conversation
around life and death. Second, to focus on the construction and transmis-
sion of these new participations through new media forms not available
before. And, third, to explore the authors’ meditations on their media
while exploring the metaphysical theme of life and death connections.
The book is then centred on the ancient and recurrent theme of death
in Japanese culture. It focuses on how it has been approached in contem-
porary times through visual narrative media. Most specifically, the book
focuses on the debates on afterlife and the significance of death in the
recurrent theme of the transgression of the boundaries between life and
death, what I call Essential Boundary Transgression (EBT).
But what is this EBT theme and why is it relevant as a theoretical and
hermeneutical framework? The EBT, simply put, refers to narratives that
deal with journeys to the netherworld. This journey might be physical, an
attempt to resurrect a deceased individual, or an abstract manifestation of
the non-acceptance of death. This theme slightly resembles the Greek
concept of kathabasis. However, kathabasis refers to every descending
movement which makes it too imprecise, too broad. The EBT accounts
 1 INTRODUCTION 3

for the meaning and the polysemic connotations I aim to discuss. The use
of boundary instead of limit refers to the permeability and the possibilities
such a word expresses. The boundaries of life and death are, in these nar-
ratives, transgressed, crossed and made fluid.
Boundary comes from the difference between the Kantian idea of limit
or boundary and Plato’s. For the latter, the world is a cosmos for which
any search for knowledge starts by recognizing its order and harmony.
Kant, however, perhaps because of the context in which he lived, looked
for knowledge as an attempt to order chaos, fixing human thought
(Szakolczai 2015). Another departure point between Greek and Kantian
conceptions of boundary is that the latter understood limit as purely nega-
tive, mainly concerning the idea of limitation, not availability or restric-
tion, ignoring the possibilities and qualities of limitation and boundary
common in Plato’s philosophy.
The second concept, transgression, refers to the act of transgressing, to
go beyond the limits or bounds set by commandment, law or convention;
in other words, it is “to violate or infringe” (Jenks 2003: 2). However, it
also announces the law or convention that it is transgressing, being a
deeply reflexive act of both denial and affirmation. It is the transgressor
that breaks the rules or exceeds the boundaries culturally and socially
established. As a challenge to the system, transgression not only questions
categories such as “normal” or “pathological” but also the institutions
that have raised and defended those (Foucault and Gordon 1981).
However, it is important to note that while transgression is the exceeding
of boundaries, human experience is the constant involvement with limits,
being constrained, an always recurrent experience in our action (Jenks
2003: 7). Every limit entails the very desire to be transgressed, expressed
from ancient mythologies to contemporary narratives and by festivities
and attitudes such as periodical carnival experiences (Bakhtin 1968: 11).
Transgression derives from a particular order of thinking in cultural
discourse, an argument derived from thinkers whose inspiration comes
from the debate between Hegelian and Nietzschean philosophies (Jenks
2013: 20). The former, according to Kojève (1969), envisions an inevita-
ble historical process of the spirit (being) being elided and reason (know-
ing in the systematic coherent humankind progress). On the other hand,
Nietzsche prioritized ontology over epistemology through his theory of
the “will to power” as he relativized epistemology (1966). Such a move
has greatly influenced post-structuralist and postmodernist theories, ele-
vating the impact of individual cognition as well as questioning all claims
4 M. CESAR

of truth in a movement, which Jenks believes opened the gate of

transgression.
Transgression is also a social process transcending boundaries and/or
exceeding limits. Some authors have argued, however, that transgression
is bound to human condition and experience as we have knowledge of our
limitations, and of the absolute finitude of death (Suleiman 1991: 75). For
Suleiman, transgression is also an “inner experience”, individual or collec-
tive. In such acts the bounds of rational, quotidian behaviour are sur-
passed becoming an experience that keeps the rules it is violating in mind.
Suleiman goes even further arguing that, to fully realize any prohibition is
necessarily a transgressive act, a thought that ultimately affects the concept
of boundary and experience (ibid.). As such, transgressing essential
boundaries would bring with us the ontological and existential impulse to
question, challenge those primordial categories. Consequently, lacking a
term that encapsulates the nuances of the theme of life and death bound-
aries and their transgressions in narrative form, this book coined the con-
cept of the EBT. Then, it situates these stories about loss, mourning, death
non-acceptance and resurrection attempts within a wider intertextuality
on the most essential boundaries and how they are explored by transgress-
ing them. It is the aim of this book to understand how that has been done
in contemporary Japan, the forms these transgressions have taken and the
effect of the media that support and transmit these new engagements.
The EBT conversation and its medial construction is studied here from
an anthropological approach, that is, an understanding of the theme as
manifestation of public and communitarian negotiations on the meaning
of being, of existing as a human and what that is. In this process of discur-
sive conversations, the EBT is situated in a larger ontological and existen-
tial interrogation about humanity and our place within the world. This
book frames the sample within a larger intertextual tradition of question-
ing the meaning of being and the ethical and moral consequences of that
process. These engagements with the EBT are thus seen as part of an
ongoing individual and collective construction. Consequently, the EBT
and the texts that engage in this conversation are studied and understood
within a greater net of creation and negotiation of meaning and norms.
Since the EBT speaks about and to existential interrogations of the human
condition, I argue the study of contemporary engagements will benefit
from understanding them as part of the cultural and social construction of
reality, as texts that create meaning and make sense of the world around
them. Moreover, as I discuss, the EBT is, and should be understood, as a
 1 INTRODUCTION 5

dynamic construction, a vehicle for new contextually situated worries and

hopes to be shared and discussed. This being the first exploration on the
theme in Contemporary Japanese media, I frame the EBT as such, a
human construct key to understanding the negotiation of boundaries, the
clashes of discourses and, overall, an ontological and existential enquiry on
twenty-first century Japan.
Therefore, the anthropological approach I here propose continues a
well-established understanding of communication as collective negotia-
tions of cultural landscapes (Jackson 2008: 664). It considers communica-
tion at the very core of the anthropological project as it overlaps with
culture as human phenomenon, connected and constitutive of social prac-
tices. Communication is, therefore, the complete range of the mediated
information (including experiences, ethical and moral questionings and
cultural meditations) within a community (Tacchi 2004). Culture is what
is learned, shared through interactions; and communication is the trans-
mission of that information through mediating sharing devices.
Moreover, late anthropological studies understand the role of media as
an extension of the human, a continuation of our ontological and existen-
tial processes. It is through the possibilities of mediated communication
that the ‘human’ expands over its own corporeal limitations. There, with
the aid of the medium as an extra-corporeal projection, the human can
meditate about and beyond her/his own body and its relation to mediated
images (MacDougall 2006). These media are new social prostheses that
expand our ability to create, think and engage with our cultural medita-
tions (Fischer 2003).
The anthropological approach to mass mediation and the engagement
of different visual media allows a focus on the formation of the subject and
the cultural transmission of that process (Jackson 2008: 665). It also
allows a de-essentialization of the text, the themes and media used. These
are understood as a human construct, as something made by agents from
and directed to an intertextual conversation. The texts are then open to
wider contexts, demanding profound and robust contextualization, what
in return offers a better understanding of the intertextuality of these
engagements, on what they are saying about and to their contexts, their
cultural and political responses to, in this case, the EBT conversation.
To do so I start by acknowledging the theme within its context, since
its origin to the shifts which have shaped its attributes in the last decades.
Therefore, I will now address how the religious beliefs of Japan shaped the
EBT debate historically. These ontological interrogations have, however,
6 M. CESAR

varied deeply in the late modern secularized scenario in which literature

and the fantastic have joined and opened the conversation to new and
more plural voices. In such a fragmented narrative scenario, popular media
showed an intense participation producing a considerably large amount of
engagements in EBT debates. It is intense for the number of examples
participating in the conversation as well as for the relevance they have to
the theme and the discussions they open with regard to it.
Thus, I now present an overview of Japanese approaches to death,
afterlife and their connections. I focus on the different discourses on death
in Japan, and on the rites and doctrines that have shown interest in after-
life. These narrative explorations have taken different forms throughout
the history of the country. While in the beginning Shinto, Buddhism and
other religions approached the theme of death, historical, social and cul-
tural changes have decreased the relevance of these belief systems allowing
new voices to join the conversation. Thus, literature on the fantastic and
the supernatural have proposed abstract explorations of afterlife. A trend
that eventually manifested through popular culture texts and media pro-
posing new perspectives to the theme as well as new forms of telling it.

Death and Afterlife in Japan

As different authors argue, the Japanese are utterly interested in death,
giving it a central role in their lives and customs (Iwasaka and Toelken
1994; Tsuji 2011). Death and the afterlife populate their fantastic and
supernatural beliefs with narratives and beings which express deep interest
in this ultimate passage (Iwasaka and Toelken 1994). However, the infor-
mation we have about death and the afterlife in Japan before the arrival of
Buddhism in the sixth century is fragmentary (Stone and Namba 2008:
3). In pre-Buddhist Japan the spirits of the dead were thought to reside in
mountains, over the seas to the Tokoyo—the eternal world—or descending
to the Yomi no Kuni of the Yamato myths. Despite the heterogeneous
nature of such systems, all share the idea of a land far away, in contact with
our world but somehow separated from it (Iwasaka and Toelken 1994).
Then, a major moment in afterlife and death-related beliefs in Japan
was the introduction of Buddhism in the early sixth century. A religion
concerned with death and the dead from its beginnings, Buddhism speaks
of death as occurring at every moment, as a set of conditions that casually
passes away while another arises (Cuevas and Stone 2007: 1). Understanding
 1 INTRODUCTION 7

such flux requires abandoning the illusion of the self and others-selves,
which in turn brings awakening about.
In the Buddhist system death becomes emblematic of the samsaric
(cycle of death and rebirth) process of the four sufferings (birth, old age,
sickness and death). Death is not only the way things are to be accepted
but also the problem the Buddhist project aims to overcome (Cuevas and
Stone 2007). Buddhism then postulates a system by which death may be
domesticated and defeated by insight into a larger reality (Reynolds 1992:
158). But death is also a recurring theme in its practices, representing the
transient and unstable nature of things as much as the suffering to be over-
came (Cuevas and Stone: 2007: 2). Death has assumed various forms in
Buddhist contemplations from its inevitability to advantageous rebirth
through dissolution from the body; almost always including an element of
death preparation.
Buddhist social and institutional dimensions are also intermingled with
death. Rites for the dead are performed by Buddhist clergies, considered
purified by the ascetic discipline they carried out. Performance of funerary
and memorial rituals represents the social role of Buddhism, which
strengthens ties between laity and religious services. Funerary rituals reaf-
firm the message of impermanence as well as the promise to overcome
death by following specific steps (Cuevas and Stone 2007: 2). As Buddhist
professionals know how to domesticate such unavoidable process, their
authority is reinforced. Such abilities highlight their ritual power, generat-
ing a context for reasserting Buddhist normative ideals.
Therefore, Buddhism managed to establish a monopoly over death in
Japan quickly after its arrival (Stone and Namba 2008: 6). The reasons are
varied and complex but can be summarized into three main explanations.
The first is Buddhism’s intellectually compelling doctrine of an ethicized
afterlife, which is an incentive for individuals to observe a virtuous behav-
iour. The second relates to Buddhism’s capacity to assimilate and refigure
elements from other traditions incorporating rituals and beliefs already
existing and which the Japanese did not wish to abandon (ibid.: 5). Finally,
the last refers to the perception of Buddhism as a class of religious special-
ists capable of managing the defilement and dangers death brings, as well
as mediating between both worlds.
Buddhism thus managed to maintain its privileged position regarding
after-death beliefs and funerary rituals. However, since mid-twentieth cen-
tury the process of secularization in Japan has had a great impact in
Japanese religions, their control and presence. Secularization is,
8 M. CESAR

nevertheless, a complex process which presents different causes, specific

developments and outcomes as it affects all faiths in the country. These
characteristics are of great relevance for the understanding and approach
to death in Japan, as these processes seem to have allowed the introduc-
tion of new voices and practices to funerary rites, as well as to the EBT
conversation due to the fragmentation of previously monopolized
discourses.

Japanese Secularization
Secularization is a process that has been present in Japan since the mid-­
twentieth century and its relevance is increasing. Ian Reader defines secu-
larization as the decline of religion and a public withdrawal from
engagement with the religious sphere (2012: 9). The presence of such
phenomenon is, as some authors have argued, not limited to Buddhism
(Reader 2011) or Shinto (Havens 2006; Kress and van Leeuwen 2001)
but extends to all faiths, including Folk Religion (Chilson 2010) and New
Religions (Baffelli et al. 2011). Such trends towards a decline of religious
belief began in 1945 when different surveys from governmental institu-
tions attempted to decrease “people’s superstitious tendencies” (Kawano
2005: 11). Thus, religious rites and rituals have since then steadily become
much more secular and in some cases even civic (Reader 1991: 73; Suzuki
1998). Although some elements might have remained in its core or deeper
layers, these popular rites and communal rituals lack religious content
(Kawano 2005: 8).
Partly, disbelief in religious institutions is affected by a questioning of
religion in general and, in particular, its postulates. This has influenced
beliefs in afterlife transcendence showing a pronounced decline. Among
the young, belief in any after death realm or existence has declined from
29.9% firmly believing in such and 40.2% believing in some degree in
1992 to 14.9% and 36%, respectively, seven years later (Inoue 1999: 75).
However, some scholars have argued that beliefs in afterlife and a nether-
world remain popular in Japan (Krause et al. 2002). Furthermore, beliefs
in death pollution and rites of passage related to such natural circum-
stances remain important, especially in rural areas (Kim 2012). Traditional
ritual observances such as grief control maintain their social origin and
impact justified by Pure Land Buddhist conceptions. Thus, socially and
culturally sanctioned behaviours and norms will be sustained in Buddhist
notions of afterlife transcendence and samsaric conceptions (Kim 2015:
 1 INTRODUCTION 9

20). For example, crying shows unresolved attachments to the soul of the
dead with perilous consequences. The spirit would remain in this world,
bound to those who cannot let it go, making it wander, bringing pollution
and danger (Douglas 1966).
Nevertheless, according to several researchers on Japanese religions,
the decline of religion and a public withdrawal from engagement with the
religious sphere are widespread phenomena (Kawano 2005; Tsuji 2011;
Reader 2012: 9). Even in rural areas the increase of secular or non-­
institutionalized Buddhist funerary rituals are on the rise (Rowe 2005). At
least three new funerary ritual forms are deeply influenced by non-­religious
after death beliefs: (1) seizensō (living funeral), (2) mushūkyōsō (non-­
religious funeral) and (3) shizenshō (scattering ashes) (Rowe 2011). The
monopoly of Buddhism over funerary rituals and its understanding of
afterlife is currently liquified, fragmented and opened for a myriad of alter-
native voices to join the conversation on life and death.
Therefore, secularism has opened a gap into people’s ritual and narra-
tive orientations. The loss of relevance and trust in the metanarratives that
once served to explain the world and to make sense out of it has caused a
deep fragmentation. Consequently, the number of voices that participate
in the settling and interrogation of essential categories has increased, mak-
ing the conversation more fluid and polyphonic (Lyotard 1984). That
liquification of categories (Bauman 1999) in Japan has produced a dis-
semination of knowledge that affects the expression and pursuit of knowl-
edge and the fragmenting of discourses (Ivy 1989: 25; Eiji 2001). In such
a context where the scientific does not contribute to a widely accepted
solution to answer deeply essential concerns and long-standing worries,
fiction emerges as a counterbalance to these deficiencies (Jackson 1988;
Zigarovich 2012). We therefore witness a context in which the insuffi-
ciency of religious and scientific explanations leads to narrative explora-
tions of the concerns and worries of contemporary Japan. In Wolfgang
Iser’s words literature “promised solutions to problems that could not be
solved by the religious, social, or scientific systems of the day” (1978: 6).
But how have literature and the genre of the fantastic approached
these issues?
10 M. CESAR

Contemporary Discourses, New Media

The main characteristic of literature in secularized contexts is its aim to
make sense of the liquification of every category (Jackson 1988; Zigarovich
2012). These contexts are affected by conflict among existing epistemolo-
gies and ontologies, which eventually make fiction a counterbalance to the
resulting deficiencies. In other words, in a world of unsureness and uncer-
tainties, fantasy fills the gap building upon reality to explore uncharted
possibilities. The nature of literature allows the encompassing of contra-
dicting theories offering solutions once science and religion reach their
limits. It is there, in the margins of previous epistemologies, where a spe-
cific literary genre dwells: the fantastic (Jackson 1988) included in the
wider categories of the fictional and the imaginative (Iser 1993).
Thus, like the loss of relevance of grand narratives, traditional metanar-
ratives and the incapability of science to calm the existential anxiety left
wide spaces to be filled (Iser 1978). In that regard, while loss of faith cre-
ated a yearning for certainty, recognition of the unknowable led to the
allegorization of absence, loss and death (Zigarovich 2012: 1). There,
science does not work as an alternative since its discourses are based on
logical and rational explanations. Consequently, when dealing with con-
cepts of the supernatural or the uncanny, scientific knowledge is disre-
garded as it lacks the tools to operate with the unreal (Lyotard 1984: xxiii).
Narrating death is important for the cultural and social understanding
of separation, absence and displacement in “an ever-increasing chaotic and
dismembered world” (Zigarovich 2012: 3), such as twenty-first century
Japan. Therefore, the fantastic appears as the manifestation of inner anxi-
eties in a culture (Ortner 2006: 118). The function of such manifestations
is to externalize these uncertainties, to make those concerns conceivable
and tangible with the aim to understand them by removing them from the
uncanny (Geertz 1973: 99). These narratives present possible maps not
about how to behave but as attempts to propose possible orientations in
and towards nature (Langer 1948: 233). Therefore, one aim of fantastic
narrative is to familiarize the unfamiliar, to understand it and address it
through the fluctuating ground that fantasy allows.
That production of fantastic literature dealing with themes of long-­
standing conversations deals with the most basic human dread: fear of
conceptual chaos (Geertz 1973). A human “can adapt […] to anything his
imagination can cope with; but he cannot deal with Chaos […], his great-
est fright is to meet what he cannot construe” (Langer 1948: 233).
 1 INTRODUCTION 11

Fantastic literature aims to arrange that chaos, make it symbolically inter-

pretable and reachable to humans’ hermeneutical capacities. It is a way to
make it understandable or at least faceable showing a dependency on sym-
bolic orders and constructions to function within the world (Ortner
2006: 119).
Consequently, secularization and this liquid modernity reopened a
challenge, a chaos in which long-standing conversations re-emerged to
solve a deep disorientation of the subjects (Jameson 1983; Bauman 1999).
Irreversible change and fragmentation made individuals fall into recurrent
bewilderment (Sennett 1998: 117), looking again for ways to make that
illegible world interpretable (Ortner 2006: 125). There, the production of
narratives is one of the ways humans create meaning and produce under-
standing of their context (Jameson 1991; Eiji 2001). In contemporary
Japan the gap left by secularization has been filled in by new media prod-
ucts such as anime “offering a utopian alternative to the theoretical vac-
uum left by the morass of moral relatives of the postmodern condition”
(Bigelow 2009: 57; Goulding 2003). However, while utopic proposals
have been explored through these media, increasingly we find dystopian
constructions that reflect the steady pessimism and nihilism of Japan.
Therefore, a tension appeared between demands for certainty and the
appealing of enigmatic and ambiguous endings; a representation of two
opposite but coexisting tendencies. There is on the one hand the need of
knowledge represented by scientific progress and secular thinking, while
on the other the attraction of the fantastic, supernatural and transcenden-
tal beyond the laws of biology and physics. The latter is also fostered by
the wish to experiment with the “other” and all that could exist beyond
this reality, main function of the fantastic (Jackson 1988: 3). Thus, it is
essential to understand that the fantastic, despite its presentation of alter-
native forms of reality does not function as a substitute for the ordinary
(Napier 2005: 5). In other words, the fantastic relates to that other dimen-
sion in a multitude of complex ways. Fantasy intermingles elements from
the ordinary and the other, blends them readdressing and discussing
themes and motives relevant to our everyday lives. Thus, both genres
should be understood together, even when they oppose each other.
It is in such a context of uncertainty and craving for ontological com-
prehension—especially since the second lost decade (2000–2011)—when
new media that did not exist before or lacked the level of complexity they
later acquired (Kinsella 2000: 3; Bouissou 2010: 25)—have joined the
EBT conversations. They incorporate themes from previous media such as
12 M. CESAR

theatre, literature and cinema (ibid.: 26–27). This book studies how these
new media have engaged in the EBT conversation, how their participation
affects the debate and what can it tell us about the cultural context and the
media themselves. I thus understand media as a threefold phenomenon: as
artistic modes of aesthetic production, as technology and as social institu-
tions (Jameson 1991: 67). Secondly, my understanding of medium comes
from Thomas Lamarre’s (2014) conceptualizations of the term. For these
authors, medium should be understood as a dispositive that represents the
culture ethico-aesthetic and techno-­discursive paradigms in which it is cul-
turally situated (ibid.: 237). But first, what do we understand, Japanese
popular culture?

Japanese Popular Culture

Debates on popular culture have usually dealt with its interest, value and
importance. However, in this section, I argue that the main relevance of
popular culture discourses comes from their own nature, from their cul-
tural and social positions and roles. Thus, popular culture should be
understood as engagements on old and new conversations. It speaks about
and to the human condition, explores worries, anxieties and hopes and
constructs new forms of discourse based on its medial capacities and limi-
tations. To study popular culture is to study how and what humans com-
municate. To comprehend what we communicate is to comprehend our
process of becoming, an ontological and existential process (Pérez Latorre
2012). But what are the etymological and epistemological debates around
the term?
“Popular” as a category for understanding cultural phenomena brings
a series of debates into question, such as the conceptualization of the term
or the difference between “low”, “popular” or “high” culture (Egenfeldt-­
Nielsen et al. 2008; Clarke and Mitchell 2007; Murphy 2010). To begin
with, in academic debates the distinction of high and popular culture
relates to the perennial problem of value (Treat 1996: 11–12). Value it is
not only mercurial but also negotiated and constantly under conflict
between discursive judgements and hierarchic constructs (ibid.). Thereby,
such labelling is the result of different voices with disparate opinions and
power relations, thus varying the outcome of these discussions through-
out history. To clarify it with an example, in the Japanese context kabuki
and woodblock painting during the Edo period (1603–1868) were
regarded as low, unworthy products, while now they are almost
 1 INTRODUCTION 13

unanimously acknowledged as highly appreciated artistic expressions

(Napier 2005: 4).
These issues have been also a matter of debate in Japanese Studies (Kato
1994; Bestor 1996; Treat 1996). Some authors have argued that the term
“popular culture” bears some significances and differences when com-
pared to Western conceptualizations. To begin with, Japanese have tended
to understand “popular culture” as taishū bunka for the term “popular”
was yet not widely acknowledged (Kato 1994: xvii). The closest equivalent
translation of taishū bunka would then be “mass culture” in opposition to
concepts such as minshu bunka (public culture) and minzoku bunka (folk
culture). Again, these categorizations contain multiple issues as the bound-
aries between what is “folk”, “popular”, “public” and “mass” are con-
stantly under negotiation and varying depending on the specific cultural
product. But at least we can agree that taishū bunka is not an exact transla-
tion of popular culture. The first part of the term, taishū, originated in the
Buddhist tradition, bearing an egalitarian meaning that completely erases
distinctions of “elite” and “mass” or “high” and “low” (Kato 1994: xviii).
Due perhaps to these epistemological problems, the concept of taishū
has been gradually replaced by that of popyurā, aiming to liberate it from
Japanese vocabulary constraints (Treat 1996: 5). Such a newly configured
term also seeks to leave behind conceptualizations of taishū or popular
culture as vulgar or second-rate manifestations (Kato 1994: xviii). The
same can be said about using popular instead of mass culture, the main
target of which is to present an alternative to such pejorative term, deeply
influenced by the Frankfurt Marxist School and the works of Theodor
Adorno (Treat 1996: 5–6).
But even though some scepticism remains on the interest of researching
popular culture and resistance to acknowledging some examples of manga,
anime and computer games as art, they still represent relevant sociocul-
tural and aesthetical phenomena (Napier 2005: 4). Therefore, they are
relevant as manifestations of a particular cultural context, transmitters of
messages and expressions of marginal and mainstream discourses with a
wide reception in the country. That characteristic of the popular allows
these products to reach and affect a wider variety of audiences compared
to other less accessible materials. Therefore, contrasted to what we today
understand as highly sophisticated artistic manifestations such as noh the-
atre or ikebana (Treat 1996: 1), these media are almost constantly present
in everyday Japan inundating audiences with their aesthetics and narratives
through constant exposure (Bouissou 2010).
14 M. CESAR

Nevertheless, it would be misleading to consider these cultural utter-

ances just as filling a gap left by traditional narrative forms. Manga, anime
and computer games not only coexist with more longstanding media, but
they also incorporate and reproduce modes and aesthetic elements from
previous channels of expression such as theatre, paintings or cinema
(Napier 2005). Furthermore, these new media have managed to either
maintain or reproduce long-standing themes, debates, worries and hopes
as well as introducing new ones—or even combining both. Moreover,
even when reproducing ancient narratives, their modes provoke viewers
and players on other and different levels than the artistic traditions they
sometimes incorporate (Pérez Latorre 2012).
Therefore, this book works with multimodally rich cultural products
that (both) inherit traditional narratives and aesthetics as introducing their
own (Napier 2005: 8). With their wide number of themes, motives and
unique ways of addressing them, these media offer discourses on contem-
porary Japan that go beyond mere reflection to the act of transgressing,
renegotiation and reshaping mainstream discourses. They are actively
engaging in the main conversations of the country from religious themes
to concrete debates around Japanese current affairs (Shields 2013).
These new media products have thus shifted from a marginal position
to the centre of significant innovations and cultural debates in Japan
(Norris 2009: 236). These visual worlds manifest as no other the rapid
shifts, transformations and recurrent changes of the culture of the unstable
and metamorphic (Wells 1988). Such correlation between cultural media
manifestations and context might explain the importance of expressions
such as manga and anime in postwar and post-bubble Japan (Napier
2005). In this regard Napier refers to how these media represent perfectly
a culture of constant shifting, velocity and change (ibid.). On the other
hand, anime, manga and computer games have increased the level of com-
plexity of the themes they address as well as the way they present them
(Lamarre 2009). This relevance situates these cultural utterances at the
peak of cultural consumable goods (Napier 2005), making them key cul-
tural phenomena to be addressed as manifestations of concerns and wor-
ries of the members of a society (Pérez Latorre 2012: 33).
Some authors have gone even further arguing that some of these new
media are privileged vehicles for understanding twenty-first century Japan
(Napier 2005: 11). In this regard, Napier argues, animation is the ultimate
expression of the hopes and nightmares of twenty-first century uneasiness
faced by the Japanese (ibid.). A similar affirmation was made by Jameson
 1 INTRODUCTION 15

(1991) who when discussing the video medium stated that it was the art
form par excellence of late capitalism. These media all form part of a same
ethic-aesthetic ecology that creates a deeply interrelated expressive envi-
ronment (Steinberg 2014: 294). They are a fusion of technology and art
that suggests in their forms, modes and content new interfaces between
artistic and technological representational capabilities (Napier 2005: 11).

Chapters’ Overview
As advanced in the previous sections, this book studies the way in which
new participants have used contemporary media forms to engage in a
longstanding discussion in Japan: the transgression of the boundary
between life and death, perhaps the most essential taboo, as framed in the
different texts. As has been already explained, the loss of relevance of reli-
gion and people’s ascription to the available metanarratives has produced
a shift towards a landscape of fragmented narratives that increases the
number of voices and participants in those conversations (Gee 1999: 35).
In such a context, some of the voices that were added to the debate have
joined it using media that were not available before and which present
some particularities and multimodal characteristics. These formal and
internal languages affect the construction of the discourses as well as their
content and the way they are received (Kress and Leeuwen 1996: 34).
Therefore, the main aim of this book is to understand the participation
of new media in the EBT conversation. To do so, the book is structured
in four chapters. The first chapter explores the main texts that have dis-
cussed the theme of the transgression of the boundary between life and
death in Japan. This chapter presents a historical development of the
theme and how it has been approached by different texts, media and their
specific contexts. The chapter is structured chronologically, beginning
with the first historical account that deals with the EBT theme, the Kojiki,
up to the Second Lost Decade. I here discuss how the theme proves its
relevance for Japanese culture by its permanence and recurrence across
history. The chapter discusses how the theme has journeyed through his-
tory, which shows the EBT as a dynamic human production that changes
depending on context-based decisions by the authors.
From this overview I develop the main argument of this book, that the
EBT engagements of the Second Lost Decade follow the logic of the
interrogation of every category and boundary manifested in the 1990s. In
other words, what these engagements on the EBT conversation present is
16 M. CESAR

a response to the liquification of previously solid boundaries. This argu-

ment sets the ground for the analysis of the selected sources.
The second chapter studies how the EBT theme is narrated through
the manga medium. It is my argument that the overall treatment of the
EBT in new media has approached the theme as a vehicle to discuss not
only universally ontological and existential concerns (what is to live, what
is to exist, etc.) but also contextually specific worries of contemporary
Japan. This chapter, and the following ones, not only identify the motifs
intersecting the overarching EBT theme, but also how they construct a
meditation on key issues of contemporary Japanese culture. For this spe-
cific chapter, I argue that the EBT in ‘Fullmetal Alchemist’ (Alchemist)
links and intertwines both universal and specific concerns. Therefore, the
EBT is considered a dynamic construct used to discuss through its abstract
form and nature the hopes and worries of twenty-first century Japan. In
other words, the EBT is both a vehicle and a proxy to interrogate the cat-
egories that have structured contemporary Japanese society, to challenge
them and to propose solutions to the deep crises of the country.
In this regard, this chapter describes, interprets and analyses the repre-
sentation of these different debates through the medium of manga, how
its language constructs the themes and the inferable meditations on both
content on medium. This chapter thus interprets and analyses the way
Alchemist as a manga addresses such negotiations on life and death by the
characters and their laws of this fictional cosmos.
The third chapter looks into how the project of the animated film
Journey to Agartha (Journey) aims to reinforce the boundary between life
and death and the concept of nature’s power as superior to humanity’s
control. It also explains that the EBT in Journey is framed by the dialectical
encounters between two main allegorical categories in the film. On the
one hand, the “flow of nature” represents the order of the universe sanc-
tioned by the authorities of Agartha and the film itself: Agartha’s deonto-
logical ethics, the code of acceptably moral behaviour in the world. On the
other hand, the EBT stands as a rebellion against the rules of both nature
and Agartha, and as a perilous enterprise.
The film then represents and explores the confrontations and intersec-
tions of both projects and categories through the eyes of Asuna, the child
protagonist whose fluctuations for and against the EBT structure the nar-
rative and the experience of the film. This, I argue, relates to contempo-
rary debates and interrogations on Japan’s intergenerational tensions,
 1 INTRODUCTION 17

coming of age and rites of passage in relation to maturity, responsibility,

freedom and the power to exercise and maintain them.
The last chapter studies the EBT through the videoludic medium and
its different approach to both the theme and how to experience it. It is due
to the characteristics of computer games, their interactivity, responsive
capacities and performative modes that the game Shadow of the Colossus
(Shadow) constructs a different experience. If Alchemist and Journey aimed
to explore the EBT transmitting different approaches to the theme,
Shadow forces the players, its audience, to make the decisions themselves.
But, as I argue in the following chapter, the choices regarding the EBT in
Shadow are an illusion, you either play the EBT or you do not play at all.
There are no alternatives, there is no progression in the game without
transgression. The illusion of the player’s agency is therefore used as a key
element in its portrayal of the EBT. The dichotomy is forced, clearly con-
straining the transgressor to constantly choose between action or inaction.
The EBT rebel is in constant struggle, always battling against himself and
his decisions, a situation that alienates him from the community. This is a
shared feature of the EBT in Shadow, where the illusion of agency accom-
panies the game from beginning to end.
Finally, in the conclusions of the book I propose a summary of the
overarching argument and the main debates each of the texts have
engaged. It further explores and explains the relation between these EBT
engagements and the main political debates of twenty-first century Japan.
Here, in the last chapter of the book I conclude that the way the EBT is
framed by these texts is a response to neoliberal political, social and cul-
tural agendas that aim to transform Japan. I also propose some future
research lines and forthcoming relevant areas of study related to the EBT
in contemporary Japan.
To summarize, this book studies how the long-standing theme of life
and death boundaries transgression has been constructed and debated
through contemporary visual media in Japan. The book contextualizes the
theme of the EBT within a larger cultural, historical and social intertextu-
ality. Thus, the EBT is not a reified thing, something that exists beyond or
apart from human beings but a construct, a product of their activities,
their metaphysical, ontological and existential interrogations. More spe-
cifically, the book focuses on three main products from three different
media, a manga, and anime and a computer game. It therefore studies the
language and the expressive capacities of each medium and their influence
over the EBT conversation and vice versa.
18 M. CESAR

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Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
The Project Gutenberg eBook of For service
rendered
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States
and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no
restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it
under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this
ebook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the
United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where
you are located before using this eBook.

Title: For service rendered

Author: Jesse F. Bone

Release date: December 15, 2023 [eBook #72422]

Language: English

Original publication: New York, NY: Ziff-Davis Publishing Company,

1963

Credits: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed

Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FOR

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FOR SERVICE RENDERED

By J. F. BONE

Illustrated by COYE

Are you dissatisfied with the programs that

come through your television set? Don't complain
too much. Look what came through Miss Twilley's!

[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from

Amazing Stories April 1963.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Television made Miss Enid Twilley's life endurable by providing the
romance which life had withheld. So when the picture tube in her old-
fashioned set blew out, it was a major crisis. But Ed Jacklin's phone
didn't ring. The spare twenty-eight inch tube in Jacklin's T.V. shop
remained undisturbed on the shelf. And the drawn shades of Miss
Twilley's living room gave no hint of what was happening behind
them. The town of Ellenburg went its suburban way unaware of the
crisis in its residential district.
Which was probably just as well.
Frozen with terror, Miss Twilley sat in spastic rigidity, her horrified
eyes riveted on the thing in front of her. One moment she had been
suffering emphatic pangs of unrequited love with a bosomy T.V.
blonde, the next she was staring into a rectangular hole of Cimmerian
blackness that writhed, twisted and disgorged a shape that made her
tongue cleave to the roof of her mouth and her throat constrict
against the scream that fought for release.
It wasn't a large shape but it was enormously impressive despite the
lime green shorts and cloak that partially covered it. It was obviously
reptilian. The red skin with its faint reticulated pattern of ancestral
scales, the horns, the lidless eyes, the tapering flexible tail, the
sinuous grace and Mephistophelean face were enough to identify it
beyond doubt.
Her television set had disgorged the devil!
Silence draped the room in smothering folds as Miss Twilley's frozen
eyeballs were caught and held for a moment by the devil's limpid
green eyes whose depths swirled for an instant with uncontrolled
surprise. The devil looked around the room, at the closed drapes, the
dim lights, the shabby furniture and the plate of cookies and the
teapot on the tray beside Miss Twilley's chair. He shook his head.
"No pentacle, no candles or incense, no altar, no sacrifice. Not even a
crystal ball," he murmured in an impeccable Savile Row accent. "My
dear young woman—just how in Eblis' name did you do it? There isn't
a single sixth order focus in this room."
"Do what?" Miss Twilley managed to croak.
"Construct a gateway," the devil said impatiently. "A bridge between
your world and mine."
"I didn't," Miss Twilley said. "You came crawling out of the picture tube
of my T.V. set—or what was the picture tube," she amended as her
eyes strayed to the rectangle of darkness.
The devil turned and eyed the T.V. curiously, giving Miss Twilley an
excellent view of his tail which protruded through a slit in his cloak.
She eyed it with apprehension and distaste.
"Ah—I see," the devil murmured, "a third order electronic
communicator transformed to a sixth order generator by an accidental
short circuit. Most interesting. The statistical chances of this
happening are about 1.75 to the 25th power, give or take a couple of
hundred thousand. You are an extremely fortunate human."
"That's not what I would call it," Miss Twilley said.

The devil smiled, an act that made him look oddly like Krishna
Menon. "You are disturbed," he said, "but you really needn't keep
projecting such raw fear. I have no intention of harming you. Quite the
contrary in fact."
Miss Twilley wasn't reassured. Devils with British accents were
probably untrustworthy. "Why don't you go back to hell where you
came from?" she asked pettishly.
"I wish," the devil said with a shade of annoyance in his beautifully
modulated voice, "that you would stop using those terminal 'l's', I'm a
Devi, not a devil—and my homeworld is Hel, not hell. One 'l', not two.
I'm a species, not a spirit."
"It makes no difference," Miss Twilley said. "Either way you're
disconcerting, particularly when you come slithering out of my T.V.
set."
"It might give your television industry a bad name," the Devi agreed.
"But there are many of your race who claim the device is an invention
of mine."
"I don't enjoy being frightened," Miss Twilley said coldly. She was
rapidly recovering her normal self-possession. "And I would have felt
much better if you had stayed where you belonged and minded your
own business," she finished.
"But my dear young lady," the Devi protested. "I never dreamed that I
would frighten you, and besides you are my business." He smiled
gently at the suddenly re-frozen Miss Twilley.
I must be dreaming, Miss Twilley thought wildly. This has to be a
nightmare. After all, this is the Twentieth Century and there are no
such things as devils.
"Of course there aren't," the Devi said.
"I only hope I wake up before I go stark raving mad!" Miss Twilley
murmured. "Now he's answering before I say anything."
"You're not asleep," he said unreassuringly. "I merely read your
mind." He grimaced distastefully. "And what a mass of fears,
inhibitions, repressions, conventions and attitudes it is! Ugh! It's a
good thing for your race that minds like yours are not in the majority. It
would be disastrous. Or do you realize you're teetering on the verge
of paranoia. You are badly in need of adjustment."
"I'm not! You're lying! You're the Father of Lies!" she snapped.
"And liars (he made it sound like "lawyers") so I'm told. Nevertheless
I'm telling you the truth. I don't care to be confused with some
anthropomorphic figment of your superstitious imagination. I'm as real
as you are. I have a name—Lyf—just as yours is Enid Twilley. I'm the
mardak of Gnoth, an important entity in my enclave. And I have no
intention of seizing you and carrying you off to Hel. The Council
would take an extremely dim view of such an action. Passing a
human permanently across the hyperspatial gap that separates our
worlds is a crime—unless consent in writing is obtained prior to such
passage."

"Unless we have consent in writing, passing a human

permanently across the hyperspatial gap that separates our
worlds is a crime."

"I'll bet!"
"Are you calling me a liar?" Lyf asked softly.
"That's the general idea."
"There's a limit to human insolence," Lyf said icily. "No wonder some
of my colleagues occasionally incinerate members of your race."
Miss Twilley choked back the crudity that fluttered on her lips.
"That's better," Lyf said approvingly. "You really should practice self
control. It's good for you. And you shouldn't make assumptions based
upon incomplete data. Your books that deal with my race are
notoriously one-sided. I came through that gateway because you
needed my help. And yet you'd chase me off without really knowing
whether you want my services or not."
"I don't want any part of you," Miss Twilley said sincerely. "I don't
need a thing you can give me. I'm healthy, fairly well-off and"—she
was about to say "happy" but changed it quickly to "satisfied with
things as they are." It wasn't quite a lie.

Lyf looked at her critically. "Permit me to disagree," he said smoothly.

"But you are wrong on every count. You are neither satisfied, wealthy
nor happy. Frankly, Miss Twilley, you could use a great deal of help.
In fact, you need it desperately."
"I am thirty-eight years old," Miss Twilley said. "That's old enough to
recognize a high pressure sales pitch. And you needn't be so
insulting about my appearance. After all, I don't have my makeup on."
Lyf flinched. "I almost hate to do this," he murmured. "But you have
doubted my honesty. Perhaps it is compensation to hide a feeling of
inferiority. Primitive egos are notorious for such acts. But the truth is
probably less harmful than permitting you to lie to yourself."
Miss Twilley jumped angrily to her feet. "How dare you call me a liar!"
she snapped. She towered over the Devi, her tall bony body a knobby
statue of wrath.
Lyf's eyes locked with hers. "Sit down," he said coldly.
And to her surprised consternation, she did. A physical force seemed
to flow from him and force her back into the chair. She sat rigidly,
seething with a mixture of fear and indignation as Lyf picked up his
discourse where he had dropped it.
"You are not satisfied," he said quietly "because you are
undernourished, ungainly, and ugly. You would like to be attractive.
You wish to be admired. You long to be loved. Yet you are not."
"That's enough!" Miss Twilley snapped. "Neither man nor Devi has
the right to insult me in my own house."
"I am not insulting you," Lyf said patiently. "I am telling you the truth.
Now as for this business of being well-off, which I infer, means
moderately wealthy—you are not. There was a small inheritance from
your father, but through mismanagement and inept investments it is
today less than fifteen thousand dollars, although it was fifty thousand
when you received it a few years ago."
"You are the devil!" she gasped.
"I told you I could read your mind. I'm a telepath."
"I don't believe you. You found out somehow."
"You're not thinking," he said. "How could I? Now, as for your health,
you will be dead in six months without my help. You have
adenocarcinoma of the pancreas which has already begun to
metastasize. You cannot possibly survive with the present state of
medicine your race possesses. Of course, your doctors do have
ingenious ways of alleviating the pain," he added comfortingly, "like
chordotomy and neurectomy."
Miss Twilley didn't recognize the last two words, but they sounded
unpleasant. She had been worried about her health, but to hear this
quiet-voiced death sentence paralyzed her with a cold crawling terror.
"It's not true!" she gasped. Yet she knew it was.
"I could make a fortune as a diagnostician for your sham—your
doctors," Lyf said. "It's as true as the fact that I'm a Devi from Hel.
Actually, my dear Miss Twilley, I had no intention of coming here even
though your gateway appeared in my library. But I was intrigued
enough to scan through it. And when I saw you at the other end,
frightened, diseased, and friendless, I could not help feeling pity for
you. You needed my help badly." He sighed. "Empathy is a Devi's
weak point. Naturally I couldn't refuse your appeal." He shrugged. "At
least I have offered to help, and my conscience is clear if you refuse."
He wrapped his cloak around him with a movement of his lithe body
that was symbolic. The case had been stated. His part was done.

"I have nothing more to say," Lyf added. "If you do not wish me to
stay I shall leave." He turned toward the T.V. set. "After I have
vanished," he said over his shoulder "you may turn the set off. The
gateway will disappear." He shrugged. "Next time I'll look for a sabbat
or some other normal focal point before I enter a gateway. This has
been thoroughly unsatisfying."
"Wait!" Miss Twilley gasped.
He paused. "Have you changed your mind?"
"Maybe."
"For a human female, that's quite a concession," he said, "but I'm a
Devi. I need a more devinate—er—definite answer."
"Would you give me twenty-four hours?" Miss Twilley said.
"So you can check my diagnosis?"
She nodded.
Lyf shrugged. "Why not. If your T.V. holds out that long, I'll give you
that much time. Longer if necessary. You can't really be blamed for
being a product of your culture—and your culture has rejected the
Snake. It would be easier if you were a Taoist or a Yezidee."
"But I'm not," Miss Twilley said miserably. "And I can't help thinking of
you as the Enemy."
"We Devi get blamed for a lot of things," Lyf admitted, "and taken
collectively there's some truth in them. We gave you basic knowledge
of a number of things such as medicine, writing, law, and the scientific
method. But we can't be blamed for the uses to which you have put
them."
"Are you sure I have cancer?" she interrupted.
"Of the pancreas," he said.
"And you can cure it?"
"Easily. Anyone with a knowledge of fifth order techniques can
manipulate cellular structures. There's very little I can't do, and with
proper equipment about the only thing that can't be defeated is death.
You've heard, I suppose, of tumors that have disappeared
spontaneously." Miss Twilley nodded.
"Most of them are Devian work. Desperate humans sometimes use
good sense, find a medium and generate a sixth order focus. And
occasionally one of us will hear and come."
"And the others?"
"I don't know," Lyf said. "I could guess that some of you can crudely
manipulate fifth order forces, but that would only be a guess." He
spread his hands in a gesture of incomprehension incongruously
Gallic. "I don't know why I'm taking all this trouble with you, but I will
make a concession to your conditioning. See your doctors. And then,
if you want my help, call through the gateway. I'll probably hear you,
but if I don't, keep calling."
The darkness where the picture tube had been writhed and swirled as
he dove into it and vanished.
"Whew!" Miss Twilley said shakily. "That was an experience!"
She walked unsteadily toward the T.V. set. "I'd better turn this off just
in case he gets an idea of coming back. Trust a devil! Hardly!" Her
hand touched the switch and hesitated. "But perhaps he was telling
the truth," she murmured doubtfully. "Maybe I'd better leave it on."
She smiled wryly. "Anyway—it's insurance."
"Miss Twilley," the doctor said slowly, "can you take a shock?"
"I've done it before. What's the matter? Don't tell me that I have an
adenocarcinoma of the pancreas that'll kill me in six months."
The doctor eyed her with startled surprise. "We haven't pinpointed the
primary site, but the tests are positive. You do have an
adenocarcinoma, and it has involved so many organs that we cannot
operate. You have about six months left to live."
"My God!" Miss Twilley gasped. "He was telling the truth!"
"Who was telling—" the doctor began. But he was talking to empty
air. Miss Twilley had run from the office. The doctor sighed and
shrugged. Probably he shouldn't have told her. One never can tell
how these things will work out. She had the diagnosis right and she
looked like a pretty hard customer. But she certainly didn't act like
one.

Panting with fear, Enid Twilley unlocked the door of her house and
dashed into the living room. Thank G—, thank goodness! she thought
with relief. The set was still working. The black tunnel was still there.
"Help!" she screamed. "Lyf! Please! come back!"
The blackness writhed and the Devi appeared. He was wearing an
orange and purple striped outfit this time. Miss Twilley shuddered.
"Well?" Lyf asked.
"You were right," she said faintly. "The doctor says it's cancer. Will
you cure me?"
"For a price," Lyf said.
"But you said—"
"I said nothing except that I felt sorry for you and that I could cure
you. Even your own doctors charge a fee."
"There had to be a catch in it," Miss Twilley said bitterly.
"It will be a fair price. It won't be excessive."
"My soul?" Miss Twilley whispered.
"Your soul? Ha! Just what would I do with your soul? It would be no
use to me—assuming that you have one. No—I don't want your soul."
"Then what do you want?"
"Your body."
"So that's it!" Miss Twilley blushed a bright scarlet.
"Hmm—with that color you're not bad looking." Lyf said.
"Would you want my body right away?"
"Of course not. That wouldn't be a fair contract. You should have use
of it for a reasonable time on your homeworld. Say about ten years.
After that it becomes mine."
"How long?"
"For the rest of your life."
"That doesn't seem quite fair. I'm thirty-eight now. Ten years from now
I'll be forty-eight. I'll live perhaps to eighty. That gives you over thirty
years."
"It gives you them, too," Lyf said.
"But your world is alien."
"Not entirely. There are quite a few humans on Hel. You'd have plenty
of company."
"I can imagine," she said drily.
Lyf flinched. "I've told you I do not like those anthropomorphic
references to my race."
"So you say. But I don't trust you even though you've told me the truth
about my body. I won't sell my soul."
"I'll put a disclaimer in writing if that will satisfy you," Lyf said wearily.
"I'm tired of haggling."
"But will you obey it."
"With us Devi, a contract is sacred. Even your mythology tells you
that much."
She nodded. "Of course, I'd want a few more things than health," she
said. "I'd want to enjoy these ten years on earth."
"That is understandable. I'll consider any reasonable request."
"Beauty?"
"As you humans understand it. Sarcoplasty isn't too difficult."
"Wealth?"
"That's more difficult. And more expensive. But I could perhaps give
you a one month chronograph survey. In that time you could probably
arrange to become rich enough to be independent. But I can't
guarantee unlimited funds. And besides you're not worth it."
Miss Twilley bridled briefly and then nodded. "That's fair enough I
suppose. And there's one more thing. I want to be happy."
"I can do nothing about that. You make or lose your own happiness. I
can provide you such tangible things as a healthy body, beauty and
money, but what you do with them is entirely your own affair. No man
or Devi can guarantee happiness." He paused and looked
thoughtfully at a point above Miss Twilley's head. "I could, perhaps,
provide you with a talent such as singing or manual dexterity—and
even make sufficient adjustments in your inhibitions so you could
employ your skill. But that is all. Not even I can play Eblis."

Miss Twilley's eyes glittered. If he could only do what he said it would

be worth any payment he demanded. She had never been pretty. As
a child she had been bony, ungainly, awkward and ugly. As an adult
she had only lost the awkwardness. Boys had never liked her. Men
avoided her. And she wanted desperately to be admired. And, of
course, she was about to die. That alone would be reason enough.
She was appalled at the thought of dying. At thirty-eight she was too
young. Perhaps thirty or forty years from now the prospect wouldn't
be so terrifying, but not now—not when she hadn't lived at all. Life
had suddenly become very precious, and its immediate extinction
appalled her. She wasn't, she reflected wryly, the stuff from which
heroes or martyrs were made, and ten years were a lot more than six
months. As far as repayment was concerned it was a long way off,
and Hel was probably not much worse than Ellenburg.
"In my opinion Hel's infinitely better," Lyf interjected.
"You're prejudiced," Miss Twilley said absently,—"now if she had a
figure like—hmm—say one of those movie actresses, and a face like
—hmmm—and money to go with them—hmm—it just might be worth
the price. Of course, it might not. It could be something like a salt
mine—or—"
"It's nothing at all like a salt mine," Lyf said. "The hours are
reasonable and there's plenty of free time outdoors if you want it. The
food isn't the Cafe Ritz, but it's nourishing, and the life is healthful.
After all we Devi aren't savages."
"I wonder," she said thoughtfully—"now if I could—hmm—say a gold
lamé sheath dress—ah!—and perhaps in a bikini—"
"Women!" Lyf sighed and gave up. Why should he bother about
listing the disadvantage. She hadn't been listening to the advantages.
"What are you stopping for?" Miss Twilley demanded. "I'm listening."
"There are a few other things such as free medical care, splendid
recreation facilities, and conducted tours of Hel."
"And the disadvantages?"
"Very few. There's no pay, of course, and you will be required to
devote a certain amount of time to my service. On the whole,
employment on Hel isn't much different than here except that it's a bit
more enlightened."
"Like slavery?" Miss Twilley smiled unpleasantly. "You're not dealing
with a fool."
"The concept of freedom is a relative thing," Lyf said. "And who
among us, either Devi or human, is truly free. And what is the
essential difference between being a slave to society and a slave to
an individual? We Devi don't have such a high regard for physical
liberty—"
"Obviously."
"But as long as you do your work, there's no interference with your
outside activities. You can think and read as you please. We supply
our help with a very complete library—and keep it up to date."
"Is that so?"

Lyf paled to a dull pink. "I wish you'd stop mentally dredging those old
lies about fire and brimstone. They're embarrassing. It's been quite a
few thousand years since a Devi has derived any satisfaction from
sadism. We've removed that particular trait from our race. You won't
be overworked or cruelly treated. And you won't be beaten or
subjected to physical torture. Since I have no knowledge of what you
might consider mental torture, I couldn't say whether there would be
any or not. I think not, since no other human has complained of being
mentally misused, but I can't tell."

"Why can't you? You can read my mind."

"Only your thoughts, not your emotions or attitudes."
Miss Twilley shrugged. "It sounds fair enough, but twenty or thirty
years for ten is a high price."
"You fail to consider the costs involved. Your physical rehabilitation
will be expensive and your financial even more so. I'll have to employ
the Time Study Enclave to predict a financial plan for you, and
chronography isn't cheap."
"Why can't you just give me the money?"
Lyf shrugged. "I don't have it—and I couldn't supply you with gold. It
would be suspicious and we try to avoid attracting attention to our
clients or ourselves. Humans have some rather messy ways of
abrogating a fellow human's contract. So you acquire your wealth
within the framework of your society—through the stock market in
your case."
"Oh—I see."
"Your money is enough to start you off. I'll show you how to make it
multiply."
"And if I cheat you?" Miss Twilley asked.
"You won't, I'm not utterly naive. There is a security clause in the
contract which must be fulfilled."
"And what is that?"
"I put my mark on you. That makes you a permanent sixth order focus
I can contact at any time."
"That gives you quite an advantage."
"Have you ever read any contracts on your own world? I'm not asking
for a thing more than your grantors do. In fact, not as much. Read a
mortgage sometime if you don't believe me." Lyf eyed her with mild
reproof. "Think," he said. "When—even in your perverted mythology
—has one of my race failed to live up to his end of an agreement?
Who has done the cheating? Who attempts to break contracts? Your
whole history is filled with specious promises, broken words, and
outright falsehood. Just why do you think we had to make contracts in
the first place? Because you humans cheated at every opportunity.
And you still do. That's why we must have guarantees. We go to all
the expense, take all the risk and then run the added risk of being
double crossed. That's too much."
"But our souls are beyond price."
"I've already told you that I care nothing for your soul. It's useless to
me." He frowned. "We have had to fight that canard for centuries. We
Devi are practical folk, not starry-eyed idealists. We deal in real
property, not in intangibles. Now stop quibbling and make up your
mind. You've heard the concessions. After all, there is a limit to
altruism. Now if you don't want to deal, say so and I'll leave. It will be