Last man
A Japanese English teacher asked me what I would do if there were no more people in the world but me - if I was the last human. Not just the last male, but the last person, period. I don’t know - go crazy with fear, I suppose. The question came from our conversation, but I forget exactly what we were talking about that led to it. Maybe we were discussing what I had done on the weekend and I expressed my dislike of crowds and crowded places. I don’t know.
Anyway, in order to get a grip on the question other corollary questions were immediately spawned.
Is this a zombie thing?
If I am alone, am I alone in Japan? Being alone in Japan means that I would be trapped here. Thoughts of traveling Asia or Africa, Europe or the Americas are disqualified. I wouldn’t be able to get off Honshu Island.
And, why am I alone? What happened to all the other people? Did they just “disappear,” quietly and harmlessly evaporating into thin air, or did they all die - by disease or violence - leaving me in the midst of a stinky health trap, waiting for decomposition to finish its course?
If I am alone, the last man, do I still get to enjoy electric power? Hot water? Air conditioning? A refrigerator? Gas?
Let’s assume - whether people died off, were suddenly killed, or else magically vanished - that buildings are still standing, and I have electric power. The world looks exactly as it does today, only there are no people. First, I would probably continue to live in my 3F apartment in the city. Do I need to stay in the same place, in the same neighbourhood of the same city? The familiarity might be comforting. Besides, all my stuff is here. I don’t particularly admire or yearn for luxury penthouse condominium apartments of luxury hotel suites. I need something that’s practical. I do admire the Shinjuku National Garden, a 54 ha (145 acre) public park since 1949. (New York City’s Central Park is 778-acres.) Before that it was an imperial garden in the heart of the city, and before that the land was the home of the feudal Lord Naito, a vassal of Shogun Ieyasu Tokugawa. It is well-wooded, centrally located, and quiet. The Old Imperial Rest House still stands in the park. It’s a modest, Western-style house about the size of a Canadian lakeside cottage. If the building is habitable I might like to live there.
I admire Japan’s Pacific coast of the Boso Peninsula, east of Tokyo. I’ve visited the seaside town of Katsuura twice, staying at the Mikazuki Hotel. I liked the heavily wooded, low hills and the proximity to the sea - the smell of the sea air and the sound of the crashing surf. I might like to re-visit there. Maybe over time, as I get used to my situation, I might slowly begin traveling around some more. To the question, “Which do you prefer, the mountains or the sea?” I habitually choose the sea. The sea represents freedom to me. The mountains represent mystery. Of course, if I’m the Last Man and there is an earthquake and tsunami while I’m visiting the sea I might find myself in a bit of trouble, but …
Second, every day I might go out on foraging patrols, scrounging up food and medicine from abandoned stores and homes. Maybe some clothes. Keep my apartment stocked. Having an ample supply of things nearby is convenient and advisable.
Third, I suppose I might ‘borrow’ a car to get around the city. I might have to. However, with no people to maintain the city, with Nature and animals reclaiming the land, encroaching on the remnants of human civilization, I would be increasingly wary about using tunnels and bridges, or poking around inside buildings, or going out at night. Without continual maintenance I suppose things might start falling apart faster than I expect. With electric power intact, I suppose I could continue to enjoy lights, appliances, hot water, air conditioning and gas at home, street lights at night, plus I could gas up vehicles at gas stations. If not, with no electric power, I would have to hand-pump fuel out of storage tanks. Would I need a weapon? As animals begin to reclaim the land, a weapon might be useful. And if it is a zombie thing ... well ... Large land animals in Japan include bears, deer, wild boar, monkeys, foxes and “tanuki” raccoon dogs. In this country, where would I get a weapon, anyway? The options are limited. This isn’t America where, if I break into a sporting goods store or a gun shop I can walk away with a semi-automatic assault rifle. Uh-uh.
Fourth, illness and injury would be a problem. I’d have to be careful about those.
Fifth, I would take over one or two other apartments in my building and use them as dedicated library space. The Imperial Rest House in Shinjuku Garden might be good for this. Using a borrowed car, I would visit Kinokuniya Bookstore in Shinjuku and Book town in Jimbocho and gather all those books I admire but have no space for. With no nagging wife to impede or veto acquisitions, and nothing on TV or the Internet to watch, books would be an occupation. I would look on collecting them as a kind of saving mission.
Sixth, I’d have to think about solid waste disposal. I guess I’d be generating garbage. With no garbagemen around to collect my trash I’d have to dispose of it somewhere, somehow by myself, and I’d have to start doing it pretty soon.
Seventh, maybe some gardening would be in order, especially if there is no electric power. I’d be growing some food for myself. Potatoes and tomatoes, corn, cucumbers and carrots. If electric power is intact I could keep raiding stores, but I couldn’t do that forever. In a few years I might have to think about clearing away unhindered vegetation from some places as part of practical, regular maintenance.