respected.
Over time, however, their chance encounters became less and less frequent. Their paths took them in different directions, one in the math department, the other in physics. A student who maintained a certain grade point average was allowed to switch departments, but neither of them had any desire for such a switch.
This is really the proper choice for both of us,
Ishigami thought.
Each on the path that suits him best.
They shared a common desire to describe the world around them with theorems, but they approached this task from opposite directions. Ishigami built his theorems with the rigid blocks of mathematical formulas while Yukawa began everything by making observations. When he found a mystery, he would go about breaking it down. Ishigami preferred simulations; Yukawa’s heart was in actual experimentation.
As time went on Ishigami occasionally heard rumors about his acquaintance. He was filled with genuine admiration when he heard, in the autumn of their second year in graduate school, that a certain American industrial client had come to buy the rights to the “magnetized gears” Yukawa had proposed in a thesis.
Ishigami didn’t know what had become of Yukawa after their master’s program was finished; he himself had already left the university by then. And so the years had slipped by.
----
“Some things never change, eh?” Yukawa said, looking up at the bookshelves in Ishigami’s apartment.
“What’s that?”
“Your love of math, for one. I doubt anyone in my whole department has a personal collection of materials this thorough.”
Ishigami didn’t dispute it. The bookshelves held more than just books. He also had files of publications from different research centers around the world. Most of them he had obtained over the Internet, but even so, he thought of himself as being more in touch with the world of mathematics than the average half-baked researcher.
“Well, have a seat,” he said after a moment. “Want some coffee?”
“I don’t mind coffee, but I did bring this,” Yukawa said, pulling a box from the paper bag in his hand. It held a famous brand of sake.
“You didn’t have to go out of your way like that.”
“I couldn’t come meet a long-lost friend empty-handed.”
“Well, then, how about I order out some sushi? You haven’t eaten yet, have you?”
“Oh, don’t worry about me.”
“No, I haven’t eaten yet either.”
Ishigami picked up the phone and opened the file where he kept all his menus from local places that delivered. He perused one briefly, then ordered a deluxe assortment and some sashimi on the side. The person taking the order sounded almost shocked to hear a request for something other than the cheap basic selection usually ordered from his telephone number. Ishigami wondered how long it had been since he had entertained a proper visitor.
“I have to say it’s quite a surprise you showing up, Yukawa,” he said, taking his seat.
“Out of the blue I heard your name from a friend the other day, and thought I’d like to see you again.”
“A friend? Who could that have been?”
“Er, well, it’s a bit of a strange story, actually.” Yukawa scratched his nose. “A detective from the police department came by your apartment, right? Guy named Kusanagi?”
“A detective?” Ishigami felt a jolt run through him, but he took care not to let his surprise show on his face. He peered at his old classmate.
What does he know?
“Right, well, that detective was a classmate of mine.”
Ishigami blinked. “A classmate?”
“We were in the badminton club together. I know, he doesn’t seem the Imperial University type, does he? I think he was over in the sociology department.”
“Ah … no kidding.” The cloud of unease that had been spreading in Ishigami’s chest vanished in a moment. “Now that you mention it, I remember him looking at a letter that came to me from the university. That must’ve been why he asked about it. Wonder
Over time, however, their chance encounters became less and less frequent. Their paths took them in different directions, one in the math department, the other in physics. A student who maintained a certain grade point average was allowed to switch departments, but neither of them had any desire for such a switch.
This is really the proper choice for both of us,
Ishigami thought.
Each on the path that suits him best.
They shared a common desire to describe the world around them with theorems, but they approached this task from opposite directions. Ishigami built his theorems with the rigid blocks of mathematical formulas while Yukawa began everything by making observations. When he found a mystery, he would go about breaking it down. Ishigami preferred simulations; Yukawa’s heart was in actual experimentation.
As time went on Ishigami occasionally heard rumors about his acquaintance. He was filled with genuine admiration when he heard, in the autumn of their second year in graduate school, that a certain American industrial client had come to buy the rights to the “magnetized gears” Yukawa had proposed in a thesis.
Ishigami didn’t know what had become of Yukawa after their master’s program was finished; he himself had already left the university by then. And so the years had slipped by.
----
“Some things never change, eh?” Yukawa said, looking up at the bookshelves in Ishigami’s apartment.
“What’s that?”
“Your love of math, for one. I doubt anyone in my whole department has a personal collection of materials this thorough.”
Ishigami didn’t dispute it. The bookshelves held more than just books. He also had files of publications from different research centers around the world. Most of them he had obtained over the Internet, but even so, he thought of himself as being more in touch with the world of mathematics than the average half-baked researcher.
“Well, have a seat,” he said after a moment. “Want some coffee?”
“I don’t mind coffee, but I did bring this,” Yukawa said, pulling a box from the paper bag in his hand. It held a famous brand of sake.
“You didn’t have to go out of your way like that.”
“I couldn’t come meet a long-lost friend empty-handed.”
“Well, then, how about I order out some sushi? You haven’t eaten yet, have you?”
“Oh, don’t worry about me.”
“No, I haven’t eaten yet either.”
Ishigami picked up the phone and opened the file where he kept all his menus from local places that delivered. He perused one briefly, then ordered a deluxe assortment and some sashimi on the side. The person taking the order sounded almost shocked to hear a request for something other than the cheap basic selection usually ordered from his telephone number. Ishigami wondered how long it had been since he had entertained a proper visitor.
“I have to say it’s quite a surprise you showing up, Yukawa,” he said, taking his seat.
“Out of the blue I heard your name from a friend the other day, and thought I’d like to see you again.”
“A friend? Who could that have been?”
“Er, well, it’s a bit of a strange story, actually.” Yukawa scratched his nose. “A detective from the police department came by your apartment, right? Guy named Kusanagi?”
“A detective?” Ishigami felt a jolt run through him, but he took care not to let his surprise show on his face. He peered at his old classmate.
What does he know?
“Right, well, that detective was a classmate of mine.”
Ishigami blinked. “A classmate?”
“We were in the badminton club together. I know, he doesn’t seem the Imperial University type, does he? I think he was over in the sociology department.”
“Ah … no kidding.” The cloud of unease that had been spreading in Ishigami’s chest vanished in a moment. “Now that you mention it, I remember him looking at a letter that came to me from the university. That must’ve been why he asked about it. Wonder
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