Page:The Cannery Boat.pdf/185

Rh well be some connection with fingers … skilled. If the Tobacco Bureau workers had skilled fingers that meant efficiency.

Tokimoto remembered that in three or four days’ time he had to attend a refresher course at their own Cultural Club. He knew that these Cultural Clubs were a lot of bunk, but all the employees of the Communications Department and of other important government departments too, were obliged to join them, damn it all. But he had work to do now. …

The trouble didn’t seem to be the up direction. He fixed his set on to the down-wire.

“Hey, is it up or down?” shouted a crowd of his mates gathered round the foot of the pole.

“Down,” he answered. It was blowing a big gale. There’d be more trouble to follow. This is tough weather for us, boys; as he looked down on their heads he wanted to pour out his woes to them. Standing up straight, his back pressed against the pole, he looked over the darkening town. Against the faint grey sky stood out the roofs of the houses, and punctuating the latter was an unending procession of telephone poles.

That was life for you. To keep all those poles and wires in order we were sweated unmercifully. If we didn’t like it, how else could we earn a living?

Wind. Dusk.

Tokimoto was standing on the platform—at his job. Nothing else seemed real. The dream-like conversation—about buying a finger—was completely forgotten.

He hoped to God it wouldn’t be a snowstorm.