Wind/ Pinball: Two Novels

by Haruki Murakami

“Know why I hate the rich so much?” the Rat continued. This was the first time he’d gotten past the puking part. I shook my head no. “To be blunt, ’cause they don’t have a goddamn clue. They can’t scratch their own asses without a flashlight and a measuring tape.” “To be blunt” was one of the Rat’s signature phrases. “Oh yeah?” “Yeah. They’re totally in the dark, the whole lot of them. They only pretend to think about important stuff … Know why?” “No, why?” “’Cause they don’t need to, that’s why. Sure, they have to use their brains a little to get rich in the first place, but once they make it, it’s a piece of cake—they don’t need to think anymore. Like an orbiting satellite doesn’t need gas. They just keep going round and round, always over the same damn place. But I’m not like that, and neither are you. We have to use our brains to survive. We think about everything, from tomorrow’s weather to the size of the bathtub plug. Right?”