Sayaka Murata

The normal world has no room for exceptions and always quietly eliminates foreign objects. Anyone who is lacking is disposed of.

“To stay in a convenience store, you have to become a store worker. That’s simple enough, you just wear a uniform and do as the manual says. And before you say anything, it was the same in Stone Age society, too. As long as you wear the skin of what’s considered an ordinary person and follow the manual, you won’t be driven out of the village or treated as a burden.”

I was shocked by their reaction. As a convenience store worker, I couldn’t believe they were putting gossip about store workers before a promotion in which chicken skewers that usually sold at 130 yen were to be put on sale at the special price of 110 yen.

“I can’t go on like this? You mean I shouldn’t be living the way I am now? Why do you say that?

Our society doesn’t allow any foreign objects. I’ve always suffered because of that,”

So even though you hate people meddling in your life, you’re deliberately choosing a lifestyle they won’t be able to criticize?”

Society orders you to work your whole life.

Will you ever be cured, Keiko …?” She looked down, not even bothering to remonstrate with me. “I simply can’t take it anymore. How can we make you normal? How much longer must I put up with this?”

The way you talk, the way you yell out at home as if you were still in the store, and even your facial expressions are weird. I’m begging you. Please try to be normal

normality—however messy—is far more comprehensible.