At this point Randy's paranoia finally kicks in: is it possible that Goto-sama bought the whole restaurant out for the evening, just to get a little privacy? Were the two minions just aides with unusually bulky briefcases, or were they security, sweeping the place for surveillance devices? Again, subtext-wise, the message seems to be that Randy and Avi are not to worry their pretty, young little heads about these things. Goto Dengo is seated underneath a can light in the ceiling. His hair stands perpendicularly out from his head, a bristling stand of normal vectors, radiating halogenically. He has a formidable number of scars on his face and his hands, and Randy suddenly realizes that he must have been in the war. Which should've been perfectly obvious considering his age.
Goto Dengo inquires about how Randy and Avi got into their current lines of work, and how they formed their partnership. This is a reasonable question, but it forces them to explain the entire concept of fantasy role-playing games. If Randy had known this would happen, he would have thrown himself bodily through a window instead of taking a seat. But Goto Dengo takes it pretty calmly and instantly cross-correlates it to late-breaking developments in the Nipponese game industry, which has been doing this gradual paradigm shift from arcade to role-playing games with actual narratives; by the time he's finished he makes them feel not like lightweight nerds but like visionary geniuses who were ten years ahead of their time. This more or less obligates Avi (who is taking conversational point) to ask Goto Dengo how he got into
Dinner arrives; and so everyone has to eat for a bit, and to thank Goto-sama for his excellent recommendation. Avi gets a bit reckless and asks the old man if he might regale them with some reminiscences about Douglas MacArthur. He grins, as if some secret has been ferreted out of him, and says, "I met the General in the Philippines." Just like that, he's jujitsued the topic of conversation around to what everyone actually wants to talk about. Randy's pulse and respiration ratchet up by a good twenty-five percent and all of his senses become more acute, almost as if his ears have popped again, and he loses his appetite. Everyone else seems to be sitting up a bit straighter too, shifting in their chairs slightly. "Did you spend much time in that country?" Avi asks.
"Oh, yes. Much time. A hundred years," says Goto Dengo, with a rather frosty grin. He pauses, giving everyone a chance to get good and uneasy, and then continues, "My son tells me that you want to dig a grave there."
"A hole," Randy ventures, after much uncomfortableness.
"Excuse me. My English is rusty," says Goto Dengo, none too convincingly.
Avi says, "What we have in mind would be a major excavation by our standards. But probably not by yours."
Goto Dengo chuckles. "That all depends on the circumstances. Permits. Transportation issues. The Crypt was a big excavation, but it was easy, because the sultan was supporting it."
"I must emphasize that the work we are considering is still in a very early planning phase," Avi says. "I regret to say I can't give you good information about the logistical issues."
Goto Dengo comes this close to rolling his eyes. "I understand," he says with a dismissive wave of the hand. "We will not talk about these things this evening."
This produces a really awkward pause, while Randy and Avi ask themselves
Furudenendo steps in. "There are many people who dig holes in the Philippines," he explains with a big knowing wink.
"Ah!" Randy says. "I have met some of the people you are talking about!" This produces a general outburst of laughter around the table, which is none the less sincere for being tense.
"You understand, then," says Furudenendo, "that we would have to study a joint venture very carefully." Even Randy easily translates this to: