Ransom by Jay McInerney Page B

It was Genzo. He said, “Rejoice, my wife, for our son has been of service to his lord Michizane.”
    This was the stuff, Ransom thought, that turned brats like his little inquisitor into loyal salary men like those who had packed the train a few hours earlier. It might not be so bad to know where your loyalties lay, to have a distinct place in a chain of obligation and command. He wondered which was worse: having a master for whom you would cut off your child’s head, or not having a master at all.
    Outside the window a thin green fuzz showed on the rice paddies, lately flooded. Old women stooped, ankle-deep in mud, weeding and thinning the shoots.
    At Umeda Station Ransom descended to the subway, a cheerful android voice welcoming him aboard and naming the stops. He arrived at the office a little after eleven-thirty, where the receptionist, Keiko, greeted him elaborately. Honda, his boss, president and director of the A-OK Advertising Agency and English Language Conversation School, was less effusive.
    â€œRansom-san,” he called from his desk, as Ransom unloaded at his own. “Please to speak with me a moment.” Desmond Caldwell, Ransom’s British colleague, was hunched over in such a manner as to appear to be writing with one end of a pencil and picking his nose with the other.
    Ransom wished Honda-sama good morning and performed a perfunctory bow before taking the seat in front of his desk.
    â€œWhat happened to your face?” Honda said, indicating the scratches. “Karate?”
    â€œRock and roll,” Ransom said.
    Honda lit a Seven Star and asked how the weather was in Kyoto. For him this was a subject of genuine concern. Kyoto weather was notorious, the ring of mountains surrounding the city allegedly kept the good weather out and the bad weather in. Honda lived in Osaka, and couldn’t understand why Ransom didn’t. He claimed only gaijin and native Kyoto-jin could stand to live in the inclement ancient capital.
    Ransom’s report of partial clouds did not seem to satisfyhim. “It’s sunny here,” he said, in case Ransom hadn’t noticed, but he was clearly thinking of something else. He took a long drag on his cigarette and said, “I have had complaint from Mitsubishi.”
    â€œWhat kind of complaint?”
    â€œThey say you attack the Japanese family.”
    â€œHow did I do that?”
    Honda consulted a piece of paper. “They say you say there is ‘double standard’ in Japan.”
    Now he remembered. The phrase “double standard” had come up in the lesson. Perhaps because they were accustomed to multiple standards, they couldn’t really get hold of the concept.
    â€œI must to remind you that we teach English conversation. We do not teach ethics, American or otherwise.”
    â€œLanguage is shot through with values,” Ransom said.
    â€œSay again?”
    â€œIf I want to use Japanese correctly, I have to buy into the hierarchy. Talk to my boss one way and the receptionist another.”
    â€œI know nothing about that. I know that Mitsubishi account is very important to us. No more ethics. Ethics get you in trouble. Stick to business.”
    Ransom spent what was left of the morning rewriting a brochure for an air conditioner manufactured by their largest advertising account. Honda had written the original copy, which explained and extolled the air conditioner to Australian purchasers. Now the unit was being exported to the U.S. Across the top, Honda had written, “Does this need slight revision for American market?”
    The excellent thermal output machine of MODEL K- 500 TAKYO INTERNATIONAL as Superb AIR CONDITIONING UNIT for your cooling pleasure, and permitting wonderful co-existence such as: “high quality against low cost,” “energy efficient with high performance approx 55 BTUs,” “being efficient in mechanism plus operating under noises being extremely