The Gate of Sorrows Read Online Free PDF Page B

were deep and cold, and Kumar was wounded and weary. The waters swallowed him up.
    But the story of Kumar was told ever after in Jore, the legend of a terrible monster who came out of the fjord and attacked the town.
    There was a brief profile of the author with the unpronounceable name at the end of the book. He was from Norway.
    Kotaro closed the book and put it carefully back on the shelf.
    He thought he’d like to meet this person named Yamashina, who had loved this book, founded a company, grown it into something real, and named it after Kumar.
    Kumar Corporation. I think I’ll give it a try.
3
    Kotaro didn’t wait for the elevator. He sprinted up the stairs to the fourth floor. On the way he pulled his key card out of his backpack and slipped the strap over his head.
    Today’s shift was eleven to two. It was now 11:12. He stashed his pack and jacket in the hall locker, touched the pad by the door with his card, and pushed it open. Toward the back of the room, in the far left row, Kaname Ashiya was already eyeballing him with a fierce look of disapproval.
    Kotaro put both palms together, dipped his head quickly, and called good morning to the rest of the room. The office was two-thirds full, and around half of those present gave scattered responses ranging from grunts to a clipped “morning.” Greetings weren’t required; many of the employees never gave or responded to them because it didn’t contribute to efficiency, and no one took it amiss. Most of the people who did respond never took their eyes off their monitors.
    Kotaro paused by the time clock to punch in his ID code, then hurried over the soundproof (and odor-eating) carpet toward his work station.
    “Sorry, my bad. Someone cornered me on the way out the door. I missed my express.”
    Kaname put on her scariest face. “You owe me big time.”
    “Yeah, I know. I’ll buy you a Big Mac.”
    “Get out of here. Italian.”
    Kaname was twenty. Her women’s university was in the Tokyo suburbs, within biking distance of Kotaro’s house. She was from Nagoya.
    First impressions would have been of a reserved young woman. Her clothes were quiet and refined. Before sitting down for her shift, she would sweep her long, lustrous black hair into an attractive ponytail. Seigo’s nickname for Kaname, “The Lady,” was inspired by the upscale town of Ashiya near Osaka whose name she shared.
    Kaname and Kotaro were shift buddies, covering each other’s schedules to ensure there were no gaps in patrolling. Kaname lived in her university dorm and couldn’t take night shifts, but other than that, she and Kotaro would review their schedules against the shifts they needed to cover and trade off flexibly, which was convenient. If one of them missed a shift, it would fall on the other to cover it. This system was effective in making sure that both took their schedules more seriously than the average student part-timer—another of Seigo’s innovations for the “Kumar Corporation Part-Timer Employment Experiment.”
    The risk with the buddy system was that if you and your buddy didn’t get along, life could be hell. But Kotaro had been lucky. Kaname was a levelheaded, serious student. Her major was Japanese literature. From time to time she’d throw out a reference to some early modern author that went clear over Kotaro’s head. She also ate like a horse, belying her figure. Kotaro had joined Kumar about a month ahead of her, and in the beginning he’d had to teach her everything, but by now she’d learned to manage without help. She had a fine sense for the nuances of language, which made sense given her choice of major. It wasn’t long before she was patrolling like a veteran.
    “I pass the patrol to you.” Kaname yielded her chair to Kotaro.
    “The island’s deserted,” Kotaro said as he took the chair. The rest of the seats on their island were empty.
    “Island” was Kumar-speak. Each team was an “island” named after their patrol “beat” on the