Dancing Together in a Broken Mirror

ABSTRACT

In a certain town, a strange phenomenon occurred where the prices of goods rose day by day. While bewildered, the people chose a man as their leader who continued to stoke the fire ever more intensely. Though the increasing heat should have melted the ice and caused their houses to tilt, the people mistook the frenzy for a cozy warmth, praising their self-destructive choice as a historic and wise decision. This piece unravels the true nature of the quiet but decisive disorientation facing modern society: crying out about the hardships of life while continuing to nurture the very root of those hardships.

KEYWORDS

Prices, Crowds, Choice, Self-justification

A Night Around the Magic Stove

On a cold winter night, people gathered in an old, weathered square. The air was freezing, and the contents of their wallets were as meager and lonely as the outside temperature. Once, in this very square, one could enjoy a warm bowl of soup at an affordable price, and everyone believed in a peaceful tomorrow. However, at some point, the steam vanished from the storefronts in the square, replaced by numbers on signs being rewritten with terrifying speed.

"Why is it so cold, and why are we so hungry?"

People voiced their complaints one after another. Bread that was a hundred yen yesterday became a hundred and twenty today, with no telling what it would cost tomorrow. They yearned for the "good old warmth" and desperately wished for someone to stop this cold. Then, a man appeared. Carrying a large stove, he spoke with absolute confidence.

"I shall resolve your cold. The solution is simple. We must add more logs and build an even larger fire."

The people rejoiced. If the fire grew larger, surely their frozen limbs would thaw. Believing this, they handed over their few remaining pieces of furniture as firewood. This was the first step toward a solution that no one thought to doubt.

The Secret of the House Built of Ice

However, everyone had overlooked one critical fact: this town was built entirely of thick ice. The larger they made the fire, the more the ice beneath their feet melted, and cold droplets began to drip from the ceilings. The people became wet, losing even more body heat, and in a panic, they threw even more wood into the stove.

"Make the fire stronger! That will dry up the moisture!"

Someone shouted, and the crowd echoed the sentiment. No one proposed stopping for a moment to extinguish the stove, open the windows, and let in the cold outside air to refreeze the ice. This was because the "brilliance of the fire" at that very moment was their only salvation and hope.

They convinced themselves that their houses were collapsing because of a malicious wind blowing from outside. Or, they imagined that residents of a neighboring town were stealing their firewood. The ominous thought that the "man stoking the fire"—whom they supported—might be wrong was suppressed and buried deep in their hearts. If they were to admit a mistake, all the furniture they had sacrificed and the time they had spent believing would be in vain. Their hearts could not bear that psychological burden.

Maintenance of Hope = Distortion of Reality + Abandonment of Responsibility

A Prison of Self-Chosen Frenzy

Eventually, a grand "festival" that would go down in history was held. Amidst the euphoria, the people overwhelmingly re-elected the man who promised to stoke even more wood. It looked like a magnificent victory, but the reality was far more peculiar.

While weeping that their lives were difficult, they continued to forcefully press the button to accelerate the cause of that suffering with their own fingers. What they sought was not a real-world solution, but proof that their choice had been correct. No matter how much their lives impoverished, as long as they were immersed in the narrative that "we are on the right path," at least their minds could remain at peace.

This phenomenon is no longer a mere lack of knowledge. It is a quiet circuit of self-destruction, where one piles up even larger mistakes to escape the pain of facing their own errors. They became dependent on the fleeting illusion provided by the stove, turning a blind eye to the reality that the ice beneath them was turning into muddy water.

The Pile of Ash Left in the Square

Time passed after the festival, and no one visited the square anymore. All that remained was a giant stove and a pile of burnt ash. The town of ice had melted away without a trace; where did the people go?

Perhaps they are still out there somewhere, searching for a new fire. Without ever suspecting that their choice was wrong, they likely tell each other, "We were just unlucky that the wood ran out." Clutching their empty wallets, they believe the sight of the collapse brought about by their own decisions is a nightmare dreamed up by someone else.

In the sky, a cold, dry moon hangs. Its light clinically illuminates the place where the square once stood, but there are no longer those seeking warmth, nor the man who tells lies. Only the silent traces of pure logic remain—the logic of having burned everything to protect the sanctity of one's own "rightness."