Tsukago glanced toward the corridor. The two groups of foreign tourists were still standing by the window.
"Sister, that person just now said a casino doesn't pretend to be a job fair."
I tilted my head to look at her. "You think he's right?"
She nodded and held the squirrel up before her eyes. "Mm. But this girl is thinking about something else. Before, every week we'd go to the supermarket and raid the snack aisles, our cart piled high. At checkout, I felt like a robber."
"That's because you wanted to buy everything."
"It's because I could afford it. Everything on the shelves was right there. Scan, pay, bag it, take it home. No waiting for a notification, no being screened." She lowered the squirrel. "But those people handing in resumes just now, they can't even get a bag of chips without waiting for a notice. Chips don't reject you. People do."
I glanced at her but said nothing.
The lecture had ended. The crowd flooded out the side door. Some people stopped at the doorway to check their phones, some walked off quickly with their heads down, some stood in the corridor staring at the resume in their hands for a long time, then rolled it into a tube and shoved it into their pocket.
I didn't leave. I put the tripod back into the Armlet.
The floating interface lit up. Tsukago stood beside me, pressing down her skirt where the wind was lifting it.
"This girl here wants to ask, did you see that lecture just now?" I spoke to the camera. "That cardboard box was pretty interesting. How many resumes can it hold, I wonder. And what happens when it can't hold any more?"
[chat] Wifey is so sharp
[chat] That cardboard box really was shabby 😅
[chat] The lecture content was so watered down 😒
[chat] Where do the resumes go that don't fit
The crowd in the corridor gradually thinned. I turned the camera toward the glass window.
At the corner of the corridor stood a man in his early forties. A boy of about ten or eleven was right next to him. The boy had a backpack on, the straps digging into his shoulder blades.
There was a dark stain on the cuff of the man's jacket. He was looking down at his phone, his thumb swiping twice before he turned the screen off.
He pulled a palm-sized notebook from his pocket. The inner pages were crammed with handwriting. He placed a fingertip on one of the lines, then moved it to the next.
The boy tugged at the hem of his jacket. "Dad, I'm hungry."
"Just a little longer. Dad needs to finish planning today's route." His voice was low, his eyes not leaving the notebook.
He flipped to a new page, pulled out a pen, and wrote down a few lines. After writing, he clipped the pen back into his pocket, then pulled it out again and added parentheses after the last line he'd written.
I walked over.
"What are you planning?"
He raised his head.
"Today's schedule. I've been running around to several places on this trip. Travel expenses are almost gone." He showed me his notebook. After the third address, in the parentheses he'd just added, were two words: Backup plan.
"You're out here recruiting."
"Mm. The factory is short two CNC programmers. Been looking for nearly a year with no luck. I heard there was an industry networking event here, came to try my luck. Turned out the event was canceled. All that's left is this lecture."
He glanced toward the podium. "The lecture was all about how to write a resume and how to interview. No use to me. I'm here to find people, not to hand in a resume."
He closed the notebook. The cover's edges were worn white. Folded in half and tucked inside the front cover was a bus ticket.
"So this third address today, that's your last chance."
"Pretty much. 'Backup plan' means if this one doesn't work out either, I have to go home. I've already spent a lot on this trip. If I don't head back soon, I won't even be able to afford a ticket home."
The boy stood up, balled up the empty bread bag, and stuffed it back into his backpack. "Dad, when are we eating."
The man looked at him. "Soon. Dad just needs to finish writing this down, then we'll go eat."
A voice came from nearby. It was one of the foreign tourists from earlier, the one with the color-printed booklet. He hadn't left. He was leaning against the porthole, that booklet now closed in his hand.
"Have you two known each other long?" He gestured toward me and Tsukago.
"A long time." Tsukago pulled the squirrel out of her light pink bag and held it in her arms. "Lychee can testify."
The foreign tourist smiled, but his eyes were on the notebook in the father's hand. "I noticed you were copying down a number. You're here to recruit, not looking for work."
The father closed the notebook, keeping his thumb wedged into the page with the number he'd just written. "Right. My factory is short two CNC programmers."
"Hard to find?"
"Very hard."
The foreign tourist nodded. He didn't press further. But the look in his eyes when he glanced at the boy shifted. Not sympathy, but an expression of recognition—like he was seeing something familiar.
"I used to go to trade shows with my father when I was a kid." He tucked the booklet under his arm. "Every time we packed up, he'd straighten the remaining business cards and put them back in the box. I asked him why. He said, if I straighten them, I'll know which one to start with tomorrow."
The father looked down at the notebook in his hand.
Tsukago had already walked over to the boy. She pulled the squirrel out of her light pink bag and held it up in front of him. "Look, its name is Lychee. It doesn't need to eat and it won't go hungry. But you will."
The boy stared at the squirrel, reached out to touch it, then pulled his hand back. "Will it get hungry?"
"No. It's fake, so it never gets tired. But your dad is real, and he does." Tsukago placed the squirrel into the boy's hands.
The boy looked down and poked the squirrel's belly. The man nodded.
——The worn white edges on the notebook cover, those come from flipping past every single exit route. The wider the white edges, the more pages he's turned.
"While you're out here running around, who's watching things at the factory?"
"My younger brother is. He doesn't know the technical side either. He can only answer the phone for me. If I can't find anyone on this trip, we'll have to cancel orders when I get back."
"Where is your third address today?"
"The industrial park on the north side of the city. There's a retired master machinist. Even if he's just willing to take on an apprentice, that would be enough."
The boy walked over, clutching the squirrel, and leaned against his father's leg. "Dad, this squirrel's name is Lychee."
The man looked down at his son. He pulled a tissue from his pocket, bent down, and wiped his son's mouth. "Where'd you get that."
"The lady gave it to me."
Tsukago crouched down to the boy's level. "Do you want to give it a nickname? This girl here usually calls it Lychee. But you can give it a name that only you call it."
The boy thought for a moment. "Steamed Bun."
"Why Steamed Bun?"
"Because I'm hungry."
He straightened up. "Thank you. He's been running around with me all day. I brought him because there's no one at home to watch him."
"Before you go to the industrial park, try calling this number first." I pulled up a number and showed it to him. "I met him at another booth the day before yesterday. If you can provide local accommodation, he might consider it."
He copied the number down.
"Thank you."
He closed his notebook. "What do you two do?"
"Fashion bloggers. We take photos, dance."
He paused, then nodded. "That's good. Do what you want to do while you're young. Don't wait until you're my age to have regrets."
He took his son's hand. "No regrets. But I'm tired."
"Dad, time to eat."
"Okay."
He handed the squirrel back to Tsukago. "Here."
Tsukago took the squirrel and placed it into her light pink bag. "If you want to hold it again later, come find us."
The boy waved at the squirrel. "Bye, Steamed Bun."
The man nodded and headed toward the corridor exit. The boy was at his side. After a few steps, the boy looked back and waved at us.
Their silhouettes vanished around the corner of the corridor.
I turned the camera back on myself. "This girl here is signing off for today, darlings."
[chat] Daughter is so gentle
[chat] That dad is working so hard 😭
[chat] Hope he can find someone 🙏
[chat] See you next time
The floating interface went dark.
Tsukago stuffed the squirrel back into her light pink bag. The ship hummed beneath our feet. Steady. Unstoppable.