May 19, 2026
my translation of the 28th story (of 99) of 夢で会いましょう [Meet Me in a Dream] by Haruki Murakami and Shigesato Itoi, not guaranteed to be accurate. see the intro post to read more!
This woman was kicking a soda machine hard with her left foot.
“What’s going on?” I asked her.
“I put in money but nothing’s coming out.”
Her boot hit the machine over and over, like it were trendy. Her manic attacks echoed about the alley behind the club. Inside of the machine, bottles rattled.
She never gave up blaming the machine. Instead, eventually, she went inside the green room.
Guess she was a groupie.
Once she was out of the alley, the machine spoke.
“One day I’m gonna get her back for this,” it said.
“You tryna ask me for my help?” I asked.
“See that box down there, on my right haunch? I think it’s locked but go ahead, jimmy it open. I wanna hire you.”
I opened it as asked, but it was empty.
“Damn, of course,” the machine said. “She didn’t pay. I’ll tell you what, that grinds my gears.”
“So you can’t pay? You haven’t had a single other customer?”
“Shit. The guy who collects the money—come to think of it, he’s just come by. That’s just my luck—depressing.”
“So really it’s a volunteer you’re after.”
“Would you be so kind?”
“I guess I could be.”
For a little while then I looked for her. I never found her.
“Even if it takes a lifetime, search the word,” the soda machine’d said. “Kick her sides in for me, whether or not you get a coin.”
Years have passed since then, but I have yet to find the girl.
Sometimes I wonder: does the machine who hired me exist in this world still? Yet I keep on for its revenge.
translator's note: by random chance (don't judge me, i'm indecisive, i've been ordering this by the literal roll of a literal dice) i've been on a long-ass streak of Itoi stories. they're fun, but i gotta say his terseness really conflicts with my own style. i wrestle myself fortnightly not to add additional details into this. as you can see, remnants exist of my struggle NOT to give the machine a silly voice. after all, shouldn't automatons talk like clowns?