1978
The typhoon had passed and the sky was a
gorgeous blue. Even a certain village not far
from the city had suffered damage. A little
distance from the village and near the
mountains, a small shrine had been swept away by a landslide.
“I wonder how long that shrine’s been here.”
“Well, in any case, it must have been here
since an awfully long time ago.”
“We’ve got to rebuild it right away.”
While the villagers exchanged views, several more of their number came over.
“It sure was wrecked.”
“I think it used to be right here.”
“No, looks like it was a little more over there.”
Just then one of them raised his voice. “Hey what in the world is this hole?” Where they had all
gathered there was a hole about a meter in diameter. They peered in, but it was so dark
nothing could be seen. However, it gave one the feeling that it was so deep it went clear
through to the center of the earth.
There was even one person who said, “I wonder if it’s a fox’s hole.”
“He—y, come on ou—t!” shouted a young man into the hole. There was no echo from the
bottom. Next he picked up a pebble and was about to throw it in.
“You might bring down a curse on us. Lay off,” warned an old man, but the younger one
energetically threw the pebble in. As before, however, there was no answering response from
the bottom. The villagers cut down some trees, tied them with rope and made a fence which
they put around the hole. Then they repaired to the village.
“What do you suppose we ought to do?”
“Shouldn’t we build the shrine up just as it was over the hole?”
A day passed with no agreement. The news traveled fast, and a car from the newspaper
company rushed over. In no time a scientist came out, and with an all-knowing expression on
his face he went over to the hole. Next, a bunch of gawking curiosity seekers showed up; one
could also pick out here and there men of shifty glances who appeared to be concessionaires.
Concerned that someone might fall into the hole, a policeman from the local substation kept a
careful watch.
One newspaper reporter tied a weight to the end of a long cord and lowered it into the hole. A
long way down it went. The cord ran out, however, and he tried to pull it out, but it would not
come back up. Two or three people helped out, but when they all pulled too hard, the cord
parted at the edge of the hole.
Another reporter, a camera in hand, who had been watching all of this, quietly untied a stout
rope that had been wound around his waist.
The scientist contacted people at his laboratory and had them bring out a high-powered bull
horn, with which he was going to check out the echo from the hole’s bottom. He tried switching
through various sounds, but there was no echo. The scientist was puzzled, but he could not
very well give up with everyone watching him so intently. He put the bull horn right up to the
hole, turned it to its highest volume, and let it sound continuously for a long time. It was a noise
that would have carried several dozen kilometers above ground. But the hole just calmly
swallowed up the sound.
In his own mind the scientist was at a loss, but with a look of apparent composure he cut off the
sound and, in a manner suggesting that the whole thing had a perfectly plausible
Safer to get rid of something one didn’t understand.
The onlookers, disappointed that this was all that was going to happen, prepared to disperse.
Just then one of the concessionaires, having broken through the throng and come forward,
made a proposal.
“Let me have that hole. I’ll fill it in for you.”
“We’d be grateful to you for filling it in,” replied the mayor of the village, “but we can’t very well
give you the hole. We have to build a shrine there.”
“If it’s a shrine you want, I’ll build you a fine one later. Shall I make it with an attached meeting
hall?”
Before the mayor could answer, the people of the village all shouted out.
“Really? Well, in that case, we ought to have it closer to the village.”
“It’s just an old hole. We’ll give it to you!”
So it was settled. And the mayor, of course, had no objection.
The concessionaire was true to his promise. It was small, but closer to the village he did build
for them a shrine with an attached meeting hall.
About the time the autumn festival was held at the new shrine, the hole-filling company
established by the concessionaire hung out its small shingle
at a shack near the hole.
The concessionaire had his cohorts mount a loud campaign in the city. “We’ve got a fabulously
deep hole!”
“Scientists say it’s at least five thousand meters deep! Perfect for the disposal of such things as
waste from nuclear reactors.”
Government authorities granted permission. Nuclear power plants fought for contracts. The
people of the village were a bit worried about this, but they consented6 when it was explained
that there would be absolutely no above-ground contamination for several thousand years and
that they would share in the profits. Into the bargain, very shortly a magnificent road was built
from the city to the village.
Trucks rolled in over the road, transporting lead boxes. Above the hole the lids were opened,
and the wastes from nuclear reactors tumbled away into the hole.
From the Foreign Ministry and the Defense Agency boxes of unnecessary classified documents
were brought for disposal. Officials who came to supervise the disposal held discussions on
golf. The lesser functionaries,
as they threw in the papers, chatted about pinball.
The hole showed no signs of filling up. It was awfully deep, thought some; or else it might be
very spacious at the bottom. Little by little the hole-filling company expanded its business.
Bodies of animals used in contagious disease experiments at the universities were brought out,
and to these were added the unclaimed corpses of vagrants.
Better than dumping all of its
garbage in the ocean, went the thinking in the city, and plans were made for a long pipe to carry
it to the hole.
The hole gave peace of mind to the dwellers of the city. They concentrated solely on producing
one thing after another. Everyone disliked thinking about the eventual consequences. People
wanted only to work for production companies and sales corporations; they had no interest in
becoming junk dealers. But, it was thought, these problems too would gradually be resolved by
the hole.
Young girls whose betrothals
had been arranged discarded old diaries in the hole. There were
also those who were inaugurating new love affairs and threw into the hole old photographs of
themselves taken with former sweethearts. The police felt comforted as they used the hole to
get rid of accumulations of expertly done counterfeit bills. Criminals breathed easier after
throwing material evidence into the hole.
Whatever one wished to discard, the hole accepted it all. The hole cleansed the city of its filth;
the sea and sky seemed to have become a bit clearer than before.
Aiming at the heavens, new buildings went on being constructed one after the other.
One day, atop the high steel frame of a new building under construction, a workman was taking
a break. Above his head he heard a voice shout:
“He—y, come on ou—t!”
But, in the sky to which he lifted his gaze there was nothing at all. A clear blue sky merely
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spread over all. He thought it must be his imagination. Then, as he resumed his former
position, from the direction where the voice had come, a small pebble skimmed by him and fell
on past.
The man, however, was gazing in idle reverie at the city’s skyline growing ever more beautiful,
and he failed to notice.
"He—y, Come on Ou—t!" by Shinichi Hoshi, translated by Stanleigh Jones. Used with permission. All
rights reserved.
Question: what is the theme in the story?
3 answers
The theme of "He-y Come On Ou-t!" by Shinichi Hoshi revolves around the dangers of unexamined modernity and the consequences of humanity's desire to dispose of unwanted or negative aspects of life. The narrative illustrates how people, in their quest for convenience and progress, can become blind to the implications of their actions.
The villagers' initial curiosity about the hole quickly shifts to a willingness to fill it with unwanted waste, reflecting a broader societal tendency to remove problems without addressing their underlying causes or potential repercussions. The hole becomes a metaphor for waste disposal, encapsulating mankind's attempt to ignore or bury its issues rather than confront them directly.
Additionally, the story hints at the cyclical nature of this behavior; even as the city appears to flourish with new developments, the unresolved consequences of what is hidden underground loom ominously, reminding readers that the act of discarding is not without its ethical and existential dilemmas. Ultimately, it raises questions about responsibility, the environment, and the true cost of progress.
Question 2: How does the surprise ending of the story contribute to the theme?
The surprise ending of "He-y Come On Ou-t!" significantly contributes to the theme by highlighting the cyclical nature of neglect and the unintended consequences of humanity's actions. As the protagonist hears the voice calling from the hole—“He—y, come on ou—t!”—it serves as a stark reminder that what has been buried or discarded does not simply vanish and can resurface in unexpected ways.
This ending underscores the notion that the villagers’ act of filling the hole with waste and unwanted items, while initially seeming like a solution, ultimately disregards the potential repercussions of such actions. The voice from the hole implies that there could be a deeper existence, perhaps something alive or conscious, hinting at a disconnection between human actions and their ethical implications.
Moreover, it evokes a sense of foreboding and uncertainty. Just as the villagers and city dwellers thought they had effectively discarded their problems, the voice suggests that these issues may come back to haunt them. The ending forces readers to consider the consequences of ignoring or suppressing problems rather than addressing them and poses questions about the balance between progress and responsibility.
In essence, the surprise ending reinforces the theme by illustrating that the repercussions of our decisions may be far-reaching and unpredictable, reminding us that what is pushed away may one day demand to be acknowledged and confronted.
