Shinjuku (Part 2)

Shinjuku is big. At first I wasn’t sure that it was because all the stations, from the inside, look just the same. They all have the same white and something tiles, the same color-coded routes hung from the ceiling (Chuo Line, Yamanote Line, these are mine that I use: Orange and Green), the same little shops selling stuff, coffee shops, the same beeping of the gates where people swipe their wallets across that green circle to get into the station. It’s convenient having that card. It’s in my wallet too. I put money on it when I have to, and just slide my wallet to come in and get out, and there’s never any stopping ever required. Most people use them. In Shinjuku, we’re all still here, the same party coming from Tokyo station: Rachel, Nick, and myself. All of us are so thirsty, but we don't tell that to each other until later. The station is enormous! It’s 'the largest station in Japan!' is what someone told me. We want, are on the streets now, to find the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building for a reason we know. It’s why we are going. The reason. Underground again, we’ve turned upside-down somewhere, we’re jogging on horizontal escalators, hurrying, Where is it! From the street... It’s gigantic! It’s god holding two wrecking balls on top of palms on top of arms reached skyward. Where will they come down?
This is the Shinra Building from Final Fantasy VII. We walk into the all-concrete courtyard, a giant slanted half circle with benches on the aloof edges. We survey the cleanness, the fountain at the base, where a disc would lock into a Discman. There are signs that we follow into the underneath of concrete, towards the glass entrance of the Building. The signs are the same as what we thought. We celebrate without celebrating. We follow them into a door and into a line of people. The elevator that we're waiting for arrives when it comes and opens and empties. It’s empty! We will be in there next.
We’re going to die in here. It’s so stupid! It was irresponsible to have come here… Squished into the corners of the gold, mirrored elevator, it reminds it’s customers of the inside of a crumpled-gold foil space capsule. We’re going up. 10,11,12,13,14,15,16,17,18,19,20,21,22,23,24,25,26,27… 37,38,39,40… We’re going to die in here! It’s become so hot. We have not water. We are meeting the atmosphere. I sweat. There are only hushed voices. I wipe my forehead like an egg timer because there isn’t room to open my arms... 43,44,45. We are where it's going. The Observation Tower. Cool air rushes in when the doors open… wait, no. Not at all. Cool air only waits lazily as we walk out of the elevator. We can breath well again. Around the restaurant and souveneer shop, we see the metropolis before seeing the windows. 'This building is Shinra.' The city spreads every way forever and fog covers up the rest of the world. 'I’m here, this high in the air,' I’m telling myself. The sun is setting over a huge metal mess. It’s so well organized. It’s so complex. The Sun seems easy. The Sun is turning red, surrounding is pink and purple, some yellow, some blue. I’m in Japan. This is anime. This is Shinra.
At places like these, I would feel here, or I would feel elsewhere, observing myself observing massiveness. Knowing it, I want to become primal to get out of my head. I always pick a vowel, and a consonant, I always pick A, I always like W… No, I decide that language won't help this at all. Thinking isn't touching. I have to feel things. I imagine my feet: they're holding my body up on the 45th floor of the Government Building. 'It's real.' It begins to feel real.