“We lived through the horrors of war, survived postwar austerity, and for what?” asked Kusakabe. “The richer the world becomes, the more laws and regulations are imposed on us and the more discrimination grows. And now, we are not free at all. Why is that?”

All our comrades had fallen, and only two of us remained. We’d been pursued to the top of the national parliament building, where we sat puffing cigarettes for all we were worth.

“Is that what people prefer?”
“I suppose it must be,” I replied. “In the end, we’d have to start a war to stop this kind of thing.”

– Yasutaka Tsutsui, “The Last Smoker,” in Salmonella Men on Planet Porno, trans. Andrew Driver, Pantheon Books, New York, 2006, pp. 155-167, p. 166

Yeeuurrgghuuukkkmmmaunnnnngghhherereeuurghhhhh! Yeeeeuurrggh! Yeeeeuurrggh! Yeeeuuurrrnnnnnnnggghhherereeuuurghhhhh!” The wife waker continued to scream what sounded like obscenities for several minutes, before at last starting to speak in intelligible earth language. “Oh, so sorry. Is that you, Sona?” It was the voice of Dr Mogamigawa.

– Ibid., from title story, pp. 195-252, p. 249