Both Satoru and I fell silent. On the radio, a reporter was expounding on a theory about a random serial killing spree in another prefecture. “What kind of person . . . ?” Satoru said. “What is the world coming to?” I answered. Satoru listened carefully to the rest of the report and then said, “People have been wondering the same thing for over a t

The truth about the world, he said, is that anything is possible. Had you not seen it all from birth and thereby bled it of its strangeness it would appear to you for what it is, a hat trick in a medicine show, a fevered dream, a trance bepopulate with chimeras having neither analogue nor precedent, an itinerant carnival, a migratory tentshow whose

Not Pammy, though. She’s never been a person, and I’m glad. Pam doesn’t just have sex with guys; Pam fucks reality.