The Memory Police

by Yōko Ogawa

Horrible things were about to happen, but somehow we felt increasingly calm. The air in the wheelhouse was warm and smelled of cake.

‘Men who start by burning books end by burning other men,’

The only thing that’s changed is that the books have been burned. But even if paper itself disappears, words will remain. It will be all right, you’ll see. We haven’t lost the stories.”

“I thought I could hear the sound of my memory burning that night.”

For a very long time, he sat staring at the void in his palms. When at last he had convinced himself that there was nothing left, he let his arms drop wearily. Then he climbed the ladder one rung at a time, lifted the trapdoor, and went out into the world. Sunlight came streaming in for one moment but vanished again as the door creaked shut. The faint sound of the rug being rolled out on the floor came to me from above. Closed in the hidden room, I continued to disappear.