View allAll Photos Tagged Simultaneously
At an early stage on Day 2 we needed to take on fuel which was done south of Dunkirk - and it exposed a weakness in the itinerary as regards the overall length of day. It would have been wishful thinking back then (and probably still would be today in most locations) to have a basic type of motorway petrol station equipped with multiple `fast fill` diesel pumps. It soon became obvious that with just two buses fueling simultaneously, it was going to take a long time to do all ten. Almost an hour.
Each bus spent significantly longer doing nothing compared to the time spent actually on the pump. There was no realistic way around this and we had to assume that our finish time each day would become extended through fuel stops alone, never mind unexpected mechanical issues.
3 simultaneous strombolian eruptions from the western NW and central vents.
stromboli_j05001-2
See more: www.volcanodiscovery.com/photos/stromboli/2014/june/stron...
Simultaneous departures at 1542 from Victoria as 375601 heads for Gillingham and 465012 for Orpington. 66744 is on the Britannic Explorer set, whch should have departed as 1Z20 to Keighley but for reasons unknown, did not and ended up returning to Stewart's Lane depot.
Two WGs departing Saharanpur, the one on the left for Delhi, the one on the right for Haridwar. Not scheduled as simultaneous - both were running late! Luckily I had Agfa 1000 to turn to in one back, or I wouldn't have got anything at all. 16/1/94.
Happy Holidays! Finishing my work in Lightroom 4 now, and uploading new video of the goddesses!
Enjoy the video shot at the same time as the stills:
youtu.be/4TaO0Dh69HI (this video was shot while I took one of my most famous & most-viewed photographs ever! be sure to watch in full 1080p hd!)
www.youtube.com/watch?v=3TvbZgl6Af4 (some more video of the goddess!)
Canon 5D Mark II Photos of Beautiful Swimsuit Bikini Model Goddess!
The video was shot with the awesome Panasonic X900MK 3MOS 3D Full HD SD Camcorder. I highly recommend it!
The goddess was tall, thin, and fit, with long, natural brown hair, pretty blue eyes, and a great smile!
Cute freckles!
It was a nice sunny, windless, warm, winter's day out on the beach, where the sun stays low all day for epic shooting!
Shooting simultaneous stills & video rocks! I do it on every shoot now, while also mounting several stationary DSLRs/camcorders for video in addition to the Panasonic or Sony Camcorder bracketed to my Canon 5D or Nikon D800E.
The sea & sand goddess was tall, thin, fit, and athletic, with gorgerous brown hair and pretty blue eyes and long legs! She's a dancer! Wearing a pink polka-dot bikini!
Pretty freckles too!
May the Hero's Journey Mythology goddesses guide and inspire you throughout the new year!
New 1951 Kaiser body, still available in Traveler Utility sedan version. However 1952 and 1953 would be the last years Kaiser offered this model (in a slightly restyled version).
It's not clear to me if this Kaiser is a Special Traveler or a DeLuxe Traveler. They share the same engine.
The Kaiser-Frazer Corporation was formed in July 1945 by two successful businessmen Henry J. Kaiser (1882-1967) and Joseph W. Frazer (1892-1971).
Immediately after the war their industrial activities changed to develop and produce cars.
In the first three years the Kaiser-Frazer Corp. was quite successful. The company offered cars simultaneously under two different brand names: Frazer and Kaiser. The sub-companies shared bodies and technics.
The first cars appeared in August 1946.
New for 1949 was the Traveller Utility Sedan. This was a combination of a kind of commercial hatchback with a station wagon. The car had a back door which opened in two parts. The backseat could easily folded down to create cargo space. Industrial designer Howard "Dutch" Darrin (USA, 1897-1982) had a main influence on the styling, but the designs were revised by Robert Cadwallader.
Alex Tremulis (USA, 1914-1991) joined the design team in 1950 (after the 1948 Tucker failure).
For model year 1951 Kaiser offered a restyled Special and DeLuxe range, with a very low belt-line.
Production of the Kaiser model year 1951 started already in March 1950. This was a half year ahead of other car brands.
For 1951 and 1952 the Traveler Utility Sedan was available as two and four door version.
The Deluxe Traveler Utility Sedan replaced the 1949-50 Vagabond Utility Sedan for model year 1951.
3707 cc L6 petrol engine.
112 bhp.
C. 1740 kg.
Production Kaiser Special/DeLuxe series 1st gen.: Aug. 1946-1951.
Production Kaiser Utility Sedan series: 1949-1953.
Production Kaiser Traveler Utility Sedan this version: March 1950-late 1951.
New US reg. number.
Image was found in:
James M. Flammang, Cars of the Fabulous '50s, a Decade of High Style and Good Times, Publications International LTD, Lincolnwood, 1995.
Original photographer, place and date unknown.
Book collection Sander Toonen (2018, present from Willem).
Halfweg, Dec. 23, 2024.
© 2024 Sander Toonen, Halfweg | All Rights Reserved
Scan of a darkroom print on Ilford MGWT RC paper.
This is a composite picture, with two negatives printed simultaneously on the same paper.
The picture of the Moon is on a 9x12cm sheet of film, which is projected on the baseboard of a 4x5" enlarger (at a 4.5 magnification), and onto an 18x24cm sheet of film containing the clouds (which is contact printed).
With the same exposure (and some minimal dodging and burning) the two negatives are combined into one print.
Both negatives are Fuji AD-M xray film.
They were both shot with the same camera, a Kodak Master 8x10" view camera, but on different dates.
The Moon was shot with a Symmar 360mm lens on May 29, 2018.
The clouds were shot with a Fujinon W 180mm lens on June 14, 2018.
Both negatives were developed in Rodinal (RO9) at 1+100 dilution (1lt solution in a 10x12" tray), at 24C, with intermittent agitation.
The Moon for 10'min.
The clouds for 12'min.
In-camera double exposure exploring our concepts of scale and size. Northern Colorado during Autumn.
A pair of nearly simultaneous and parallel Iridium satellite flares, on October 9, 2017, as they descended into the north. The left or westerly flare was much brighter and with a sharp rise and fall in brightness. While it was predicted to be mag. -4.4 I think it got much brighter, perhaps mag -7, but very briefly. The right flare was predicted to be ,ag. -3.3 which was about correct.
These are Iridium 90 (left) and Iridium 50 (right). I used GoSatWatch app to look up the predictions and satellite identities. Several other satellite trails are also in the picture.
This is a stack of 40+ exposures each, 2 seconds at 1-second intervals, with the Sigma 24mm lens at f/1.4 and Nikon D750 at ISO 6400.
It's that time again!
After a long hiatus, Maxine is ready to start her search for a new BFF!
As always the competition will run simultaneously on My Scene Hangout as well as Flickr.
This competition is centered on both your photos AND your role-play participation. So make sure you take part in the social interactions "In character" as well as you do your photos. It's a competition to find a new best friend, how will we do that if we don't know who you are?
Season 3 will play differently as previous seasons. Maxine isn't seeking a perfect polite prince or princess. So if your character has a few rough edges, that's ok. Just remember the golden rule: Even if you hate each other, you have to be nice to Maxine. >:D
Another major change is that this season will be split down the middle. It’s a battle of the sexes! 7 Contestants will be picked for each gender so I encourage you Flickr veterans to step out of your comfort zone of using girls and challenge yourself with a male doll. I'm not saying you WON'T get chosen if you audition with a girl, but there are only 7 slots open for females.
The competition won’t start until I have 7 boys and 7 girls for the final cast. It is open to all doll types. Barbie, Bratz, My Scene, Ever After High, Monster High, whatever you like and feel comfortable with.
The prize for winning Maxine's My New BFF is an exclusive OOAK Maxine doll. The same doll that will be used in the contest. She will come to you in custom packaging and on her soft bust Obitsu body!
To audition you’re going to have to submit two photos:
A full body photo of your character dressed in pink (if a girl) or blue (if a boy)
A close up photo with your name and age in a ‘Confessional’ style to act as your avatar for when you post in character in the My Scene Hangout.
In the description for both photos please include the following:
Name:
Age:
Hometown:
Likes:
Dislikes:
Why I should be picked for Maxine’s My New BFF 3:
Girls Auditions:
1. Noir Blank
2. Mami Tomoe
3. Kylie Brooke
5. Lucy Fields
8. Prue Warren
9. Kimberly
10. Jenny
11. Reira Giraldo
13. Ariana Valentine
14. Darleen Kingston
15. Willow Stoner
16. Erin Blaire
17. Scarlett Stone
18. Ashlee Smith
19. Jenny Junn
20. Knaomi Kampbell
21. Amalia Reyez
22. Leyla Delories
23. Cherry Hallett
24. Onyx Rose Thorn
25. Miranda Pruce
27. Veronica Hinely
28. Navija Alina
29. Riley B.
30. Angelia Larsen
31. Ava Lanshé
Boys Auditions:
1. Nathan Wrott
2. Wren Hayward
3. Justin
6. Max Steele
7. Joey Layne
8. Samson Ellis
10. Liam Rose
11. Jaden Diederich
AUDITIONS ARE CLOSED! 6/3/2015
Title:
Yesterday’s Footprints
B♭ (B Flat)
A Novel by Mitsushiro Nakagawa
日本語のあらすじ等は下の方にあります😃
“Synopsis”
A Palestinian group from Gaza hacks into North Korea’s cryptocurrency system, stealing hundreds of millions of dollars. Their true goal is not money—but to recreate the lost homeland of Gaza on American soil.
Amid the backdrop of hardline Republican immigration policies and a growing wave of xenophobia, a quiet plan begins to take shape: the gradual collapse of America from within.
During a speech at Madison Square Garden, Republican presidential candidate Justin Bradford is shot. Almost simultaneously in Los Angeles, former president Owen Reed is attacked at a rally for Democratic hopeful Ryan Bennett.
Two assassinations—mirroring one another—ignite a nation’s deepest divide. Yet, against all odds, Justin survives. His blood type is one in 2.5 million: the Bombay Blood Group.
The only person who can donate such blood is Anaya Patel, a community art facilitator working in Brooklyn. Her blood, stored in the Bellevue Hospital Blood Bank, is used for an emergency transfusion that saves the candidate’s life.
Jack Vance, an agent of the U.S. Secret Service, suspects a Gaza-based network behind the attacks. Together with Cameron Bartlett, the FBI Director of the Los Angeles Field Office, and Veronica Reeves, a senior investigator from New York, he begins to uncover a vast conspiracy.
Their investigation leads them to Rafi Gannam, a former architecture student at the Islamic University of Gaza, who has infiltrated redevelopment sites across Los Angeles and New York—embedding C4 explosives deep within beams and structural cores.
His targets: new residential districts where agents of ICE (Immigration and Customs Enforcement) and ERO (Enforcement and Removal Operations) live—symbols of “the order America built.”
Veronica urges the President to pursue dialogue to prevent further destruction, but President Grant M. Ranford refuses to listen.
Meanwhile, the recovering Justin and his Democratic rival Ryan appear on national television, calling for unity beyond political divisions.
Their words of reason, however, are drowned out when Grant takes the stage in Iowa, defiantly declaring: “We will never bow to terror.”
Among the crowd, Rafi’s operatives have already taken their positions.
As chaos erupts and the stage collapses, Amir Nasser—once Rafi’s comrade, haunted by the memory of his sister’s death in Gaza—tries desperately to halt the chain of destruction.
But Rafi’s conviction remains unshaken.
Under the twilight beneath the Williamsburg Bridge, amid the city’s fading noise, the two men part ways.
It is the boundary between prayer and vengeance, between hope and nothingness.
“Characters”
Anaya Patel – 25, Community Art Facilitator
Arjun Singh – 26, Anaya’s boyfriend, Luminatech Innovations
Mika Sato – 25, Anaya’s friend, Community Art Facilitator
Justin Bradford – 27, Republican Presidential Candidate
Eleanor Blake – 26, Justin’s fiancée
President Grant M. Langford – 61, Incumbent Republican President
Vice President Charles “Chuck” Baines – 64, Incumbent Republican Vice President
Ryan Bennett – 30, Democratic Presidential Candidate
Sophia Bennett – 30, Ryan’s wife
Owen Reed – 65, Former Democratic President
Jack Vance – 45, Secret Service, Former FBI Los Angeles Field Office
Ben Holloway – 30, Jack’s colleague
Darryl Ross – 29, Jack’s colleague
Elijah Kane – 28, Jack’s colleague
Marcus Dane – 45, FBI Los Angeles Field Office
Cameron Bartlett – 55, FBI Los Angeles Field Office, Field Office Director
Tom Caldwell – 38, FBI Technical Unit, Marcus’s subordinate
Veronica Reeves – 41, FBI Special Agent
Alexander Harris – 52, FBI New York Field Office, Field Office Director
Elliot Chen – 36, Technology Unit Chief
Alicia Monroe – 58, FBI Director
Zakaria Haddad – 51, Gaza Strip, Palestine; Former Islamic University Engineering Professor, New York Team
Amir Nasser – 23, Gaza Strip, Palestine; Former Islamic University Electronics Engineering, New York Team
Rafi Gannam – 32, Gaza Strip, Palestine; Islamic University, Architecture, New York Team
Rohan Shah – 29, Gaza Strip, Palestine; Islamic University, Architecture, New York Team
Majid Hamza – 47, Gaza Strip, Palestine; University of Palestine, Information Technology, Los Angeles Team
Samira Hammad – 28, Gaza Strip, Palestine; University of Palestine, Engineering, Los Angeles Team
Saeed Kabari – 35, Gaza Strip, Palestine; University of Palestine, Business Administration, Los Angeles Team
Reem Nasser – 30, Gaza Strip, Palestine; University of Palestine, Media Studies, Los Angeles Team
Noah Levi – 55, Israel, residing in Tel Aviv, Jewish
B♭ will be released worldwide on February 29, 2026.
Recently, director Ridley Scott remarked that streaming films and series have become dull.
I agree.
If you have two hours to spare for such stories, I ask for only two minutes of your time.
Two minutes with my novel will outlast those two hours.
I am confident of that.
Stay tuned.
Mitsushiro
October 9th, 2025
P.S.
Micchan — the man who challenges Netflix. 😃
P.S.2
Model. Photography. Text. Novel.
All me. 😄
( iPhone 13 Pro shot )
Motosuka Beach. Kujūkuri Coast. Sanmu City. Chiba, Japan. October 9, 2025 … 0.7 / 16
(Today’s photo. It has not been published yet.)
Images.
ONE OK ROCK - We are [ LIVE ]
youtu.be/uyaKoj7wABY?si=l5TIci49GRdoYQDD
English lyrics and Japanese translation
youtu.be/wOS8u80wvEs?si=g2ghwRsJRmqn3C22
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
My new novel
B♭ (B Flat)
Volume 19😄
The following is still in its draft stage and will be revised further.
Key parts are not disclosed.
The order of the content shown here is mixed.
(Of course, this is not the final version.)
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
My new novel
B♭ (B Flat)
English translation by GPT-5, in collaboration with Mitsushiro Nakagawa
Twilight sank over the harbor town, dimming the air as the rusted girders along the pier turned a burnished red.
The park in Red Hook was nearly empty; the chains of the swings stirred in the wind, clinking faintly.
Children’s laughter drifted from afar, only deepening the stillness that hung over the place.
Amir stood outside the wire fence, gazing at the scene, and something half-forgotten stirred within him.
There had been evenings, too, in the rubble of Gaza.
Out from the ruins of broken houses, his mother would appear—
breathless, dust clinging to her clothes, coming to find him, to hold him close.
He could still recall the scent of her hair, the warmth of her arms.
“Let’s go home,” she had said.
Even if “home” was nothing more than a collapsing shell of stone and dust, her voice alone had led him back.
A mattress laid atop debris.
A room with no walls, only wind.
Yet each time his mother’s hand brushed his forehead, that place became, undeniably, home.
Amir’s gaze returned to the New York children swaying on the swings.
The innocent rhythm between mothers and sons was repeating itself again, bathed in the soft light of dusk.
It was a world untouched by weapons or blood.
“Rafi,” he murmured, barely louder than the wind,
“maybe… we don’t have to go on.”
Rafi didn’t look away.
His eyes were clouded with the sediment of Gaza—blood and dust, the memory of ruin.
His father’s body fallen in shadow.
Walls blackened with fire.
Dreams torn apart.
What filled him was not tenderness, but a cold and merciless anger.
“Don’t forget, Amir,” he said, his voice hard as stone.
“In the same place where your mother held you, our fathers were slaughtered.
Those ruins are not just ruins.”
Amir fell silent.
The river’s surface rippled red in the twilight; across the East River, the towers of Manhattan shimmered faintly, blurred at the edges.
Peace and destruction, memory and hatred—
they mingled together in the same wind.
Behind the wire fence, children’s laughter still rang out.
But to the two men, it sounded only like an echo from another world.
The setting sun sank quietly, staining the bridge’s iron joints red as the heat beneath it trembled in the air.
Rainwater pooled in the cracks of the concrete, reflecting a thin sheet of gold.
A faint steam rose from the damp air, and the salt from the harbor clung to Amir’s nose.
The boarded door of an abandoned factory hung loose,
the wind pushing in old newspapers and leaves, swirling them into tiny spirals.
From afar came the cry of cicadas, and a city bus exhaled a sigh through its brakes.
Beneath the bridge stood Amir, Rafi, and several others scattered in silence.
Some wiped sweat from their brows, eyes lowered to the ground;
others rested hands upon the girders, gazing out toward the distant light.
At intervals, the shadow of a parent waiting for a child passed by,
a white-roofed van gliding through the heat.
Amir rubbed his back, the sweat clinging to his shirt, and sat down in the shadow of the bridge pier.
Rafi stood a short distance away.
Their shadows stretched long, wavering under the harsh westering sun.
No one among their comrades moved; their stillness was a kind of breathless waiting.
“Can’t we stop here?” Amir’s voice wavered into the humid air.
In his mind, he saw again his mother’s hand reaching through a crack in the stone wall—
that small, dirt-stained hand that once touched his cheek.
The desire to return to that warmth still flickered faintly in his chest, like an ember refusing to die.
Rafi clenched his jaw, and spoke through his teeth, his words as brief and cold as a stone cast into the sea.
“Don’t forget, Amir.
If you forget that night, we’ll betray the dead.”
His voice merged with the creak of metal underfoot, irreconcilable with the laughter of children or the cry of cicadas drifting in the distance.
Amir narrowed his eyes, watching the flow of light beyond the railing.
Across the river, windows shimmered in layers—
places where life went on, where dinners were being served,
where children’s laughter and footsteps would echo softly through the gardens.
A deep shadow cut across Rafi’s face.
His fists were clenched, the veins on his hands taut and bright.
“That wish of yours,” he said quietly,
“do you know it might become someone’s gravestone?”
Amir’s gaze fell to a small white rabbit doll at his feet.
It was caked with dust, one eye missing.
Perhaps it belonged to a child who once played beneath this bridge—
or perhaps it had simply wandered here by chance.
Either way, to Amir, that single missing eye seemed like a fleeting glimpse of a world quietly disappearing.
Silence spread between them.
The wind hummed low through the iron beams.
Around them, the world went on moving.
A van door shut.
A parent touched a child’s shoulder.
A bus turned the corner.
Their comrades drew shallow breaths, eyes fixed on the ground or the far horizon.
Without looking back, Amir began walking toward the city beyond the bridge’s shadow.
Behind him came a single breath from Rafi—
a sound that carried the stillness of a corpse.
The summer dusk slowly swallowed the bridge.
The men beneath it remained as faint silhouettes,
poised between the red of sunset and the cold gleam of steel.
Rafi quietly unzipped his bag and drew out a tablet.
His fingers trembled slightly,
but he took a slow breath to steady himself,
and aimed the camera at the mark of “B♭” at the bottom of mellow-echo.net.
A dark screen flickered to life, revealing a deep-layer QR code.
Without hesitation, his finger slid along the words:
“C4-ID: Vanta+Core / Ready.”
That movement sent a faint tremor through the tension of the men beneath the bridge,
blending with the dry scent of rust and the damp summer air.
From the far side of the East River, under another bridge,
sparks began to rise—one, then another—
tiny flashes glowing red in the dark.
The light quivered across the shadows,
and the sound of metal striking metal echoed low.
Rafi’s eyes followed the fading silhouette of Amir’s back.
The others stepped silently away,
drawing a little farther from the bridge.
Moist air clung to Rafi’s skin,
and the mingled red of dusk and chill of steel filled the space around him.
In the hush beneath the bridge,
each flash and creak formed a strange rhythm in his chest.
A cicada cried once in the distance.
The city’s murmur faded to a far-off haze.
Pressed beneath that wave of tension,
the men held their breath,
confirming each other’s presence only through glances and the rhythm of their breathing.
The summer dusk slowly—yet surely—
swallowed the bridge, the city,
and the shadows that remained.
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My new novel:
B♭ (B-flat)
There’s still more to come. 😃
(This is not the final draft.)
Set in New York City.
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Soundtrack.
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack/pl.u-47...
For japanese
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack-for-jap...
Note: I gave a brief explanation of this novel in the following video:
youtu.be/3w65lqUF-YI?si=yG7qy6TPeCL9xRJV
iTunes Playlist Link::
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b/pl.u-47DJGhopxMD
For japanese
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack-for-jap...
My new novel:
B♭ (B-flat)
Notes
1. "Bombay Blood Type (hh type)"
•Characteristics: A rare blood type that lacks the usual ABO antigens — cannot be classified as A, B, or O.
•Discovery: First identified in 1952 in Mumbai, India (formerly Bombay).
•Prevalence: Roughly 1 in 10,000 people in India; globally, about 1 in 2.5 million.
•Transfusion Compatibility: Only compatible with blood from other Bombay type donors.
2. 2024 Harvard University Valedictorian Speech – The Power of Not Knowing
youtu.be/SOUH8iVqSOI?si=Ju-Y728irtcWR71K
3. Shots Fired at Trump Rally
youtu.be/1ejfAkzjEhk?si=ASqJwEmkY-2rW_hT
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Title.
昨日の足跡。
僕の新しい小説
B♭ （ビーフラット） ……. Mitsushiro Nakagawa
“あらすじ”
北朝鮮の仮想通貨システムをハッキングし、数億ドルを奪取したガザ出身のパレスチナ人グループが、アメリカ合衆国へ密かに潜入する。
彼らの目的は、失われた祖国ガザを、アメリカの地に「復元」することだった。
共和党による強硬な移民政策と、国内にくすぶる排外感情を利用し、アメリカ社会を内側から崩壊させる計画が静かに進行していく。
共和党大統領候補ジャスティン・ブラッドフォードがマディソン・スクエア・ガーデンで演説中に狙撃され、ほぼ同時刻、ロサンゼルスでは前大統領オーウェン・リードもまた、民主党候補ライアン・ベネットの集会で撃たれる。
国家を二分する双方向の暗殺。だが、ジャスティンは奇跡的に生還する。
彼の血液型は、世界でわずか250万人に一人といわれる「ボンベイブラッド」。
その希少な血を提供できたのは、ブルックリンで活動するコミュニティアート・ファシリテーター、アナヤ・パテルだった。
彼女の血液はベルビュー病院の血液バンクに保存されており、緊急輸血によって、候補者の命はかろうじて繋がれた。
シークレットサービスのジャック・バンスは、テロの背後にガザ出身の組織が関与していることを察知し、FBIロサンゼルス支局長官キャメロン・バートレット、ニューヨーク支局の特別捜査官ヴェロニカ・リーブスと共に捜査を進める。
やがて彼らは、イスラム大学で建築学を学んだラフィ・ガンナムが、ロサンゼルスやニューヨークの再開発現場に潜入し、梁や構造体の中枢にC4爆薬を仕込んでいた事実に辿り着く。
標的は、ICE（移民・関税執行局）やERO（執行・送還作戦部門）の職員が暮らす新興住宅街——すなわち、「アメリカが築いた秩序」そのものだった。
ヴェロニカは、これ以上の破壊を防ぐため、大統領への対話を進言するが、現職のグラント・ランフォード大統領は耳を貸さない。
一方、命を取り留めたジャスティンと民主党候補ライアンは、テレビを通じて国民に訴えかけ、分断を乗り越えようとする。
だが、その理性の声を嘲笑うかのように、グラントはアイオワ州での演説を強行し、「テロには屈しない」と宣言する。
その会場には、すでにラフィの仲間が率いる工作チームが潜入していた。
崩壊する会場の惨状を前に、仲間の一人アミール・ナッセルは、かつてガザで妹を失った記憶に引き裂かれ、破壊の連鎖を止めようとする。
だが、ラフィの信念は揺るがない。
ウィリアムズバーグ橋の下、夕暮れの喧騒のなか、二人は決別する。
それは、祈りと報復、希望と虚無の境界線だった——。
“登場人物”
アナヤ・パテル ２５歳 コミュニティアート・ファシリテーター
アルジュン・シン ２６歳 アナヤの恋人・ルミナテック・イノベーションズ社
佐藤 ミカ ２５歳 アナの友人・コミュニティアート・ファシリテーター
ジャスティン・ブラッドフォード ２７歳 共和党大統領候補
エリノア・ブレイク ２６歳 ジャスティンの婚約者
グラント・M・ランフォード大統領 ６１歳 共和党大統領現職
チャールズ・ベインズ副大統領 ６４歳 共和党副大統領現職
ライアン・ベネット ３０歳 民主党大統領候補
ソフィア・ベネット ３０歳 ライアンの妻
オーウェン・リード ６５歳 民主党前大統領
ジャック・バンス ４５歳 シークレットサービス 元FBIロサンゼルス支局
ベン・ホロウェイ ３０歳 ジャックの同僚
ダリル・ロス ２９歳 ジャックの同僚
イライジャ・ケイン ２８歳 ジャックの同僚
マーカス・デイン ４５歳 FBI ロサンゼルス支局
キャメロン・バートレット ５５歳 FBI ロサンゼルス支局 支局長
トム・コールドウェル ３８歳 FBI技術班 マーカスの部下
ヴェロニカ・リーヴス ４１歳 FBI特別捜査官
アレクサンダー・ハリス ５２歳 FBI ニューヨーク支局 支局長
エリオット・チェン ３６歳 テクノロジー班主任
アリシア・モンロー ５８歳 FBI長官
ザカリア・ハッダード ５１歳 パレスチナ・ガザ地区 元イスラム大学 工学部教授 ニューヨークチーム
アミール・ナッセル ２３歳 パレスチナ・ガザ地区 元イスラム大学 電子工学部 ニューヨークチーム
ラフィ・ガンナム ３２歳 パレスチナ・ガザ地区 イスラム大学 建築学部 ニューヨークチーム
ロハン・シャー ２９歳 パレスチナ・ガザ地区 イスラム大学 建築学部 ニューヨークチーム
マジード・ハムザ ４７歳 パレスチナ・ガザ地区 パレスチナ大学 情報技術学部 ロサンゼルスチーム
サミラ・ハンマド ２８歳 パレスチナ・ガザ地区 パレスチナ大学 工学部 ロサンゼルスチーム
サイード・カバリ ３５歳 パレスチナ・ガザ地区 パレスチナ大学 経営学部 ロサンゼルスチーム
リーム・ナセル ３０歳 パレスチナ・ガザ地区 パレスチナ大学 メディア学部 ロサンゼルスチーム
ノア・レヴィ 55歳 イスラエル テルアビブ在住 ユダヤ人
僕のこの小説は、来年、２０２６年２月末日に公開します。
先日、リドリースコット監督がサブスクの映画やドラマ群がつまらないと話していたようだけど、同感です。
僕も非常に退屈です。
それらに2時間を要するなら、僕の小説を２分間だけ読んで欲しい。
その2分間は、２時間を越えるでしょう。
僕は自信があります。
ぜひ、期待してお待ちください。
Mitsushiro Nakagawa
09th. Oct . 2025.
追伸
ネトフリに挑戦する男、みっちゃん。😃
追伸２。
モデル。撮影。テキスト。小説。すべて、オレ。😄
( iPhone 13 pro shot )
本須賀海岸。九十九里浜。山武市。千葉県。日本。10月９日。2025 … 0.7 / 16
(今日の写真。それは未発表です。）
Images.
ONE OK ROCK - We are [ LIVE ]
youtu.be/uyaKoj7wABY?si=l5TIci49GRdoYQDD
英詞と和訳
youtu.be/wOS8u80wvEs?si=g2ghwRsJRmqn3C22
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僕の新しい小説。
B♭ （ビーフラット）
第19弾。 😄
以下は、まだ初稿の段階です。まだ推敲します。
重要な部分は公開していません。
公開している内容の順番はバラバラです。
(もちろん最終稿ではありません。)
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僕の新しい小説。
B♭ （ビーフラット）
English translation by GPT-5, in collaboration with Mitsushiro Nakagawa
夕暮れは港町の空気を沈ませながら、埠頭に錆びついた鉄骨を赤銅色に染めていた。
レッドフックの公園は人影もまばらで、遊具の鎖が風に揺れ、かすかな音を立てていた。子どもたちの笑い声が遠くにひびき、かえって静けさを際立たせているようだった。
アミールは金網の外からその光景を見つめ、胸の奥に忘れかけていた感覚を呼び戻していた。
かつてガザの瓦礫の町にも夕暮れはあった。
破壊された家々のあいだから、母の姿が現れた。息を切らし、砂埃をまといながらも、彼を探して抱きしめに来る母の匂いを、アミールは今も覚えていた。
「家に帰ろう」と母は言った。
家とは呼べないほど崩れかけた場所であっても、その声だけが彼を導いた。瓦礫の上に置かれた布団、壁もない部屋に流れ込む風、それでも母の手が彼の額を撫でるたび、そこは確かに家だった。
アミールの視線は、ブランコに揺れるニューヨークの子どもたちへと戻った。母と子の無邪気な時間が、夕暮れの柔らかな光のなかで繰り返されている。
その光景は、武器や血とは無縁の世界だった。
「ラフィ……俺たちは、もうやめてもいいんじゃないか」
低く呟いた声は、風に溶けるほど弱かった。
ラフィは目を逸らさなかった。その瞳には、ガザの砂塵に埋もれた血の記憶がよどんでいた。
倒れ伏した父の影、焼け焦げた壁、裂けた夢。彼の胸に満ちているのは、優しさではなく、冷たい怒りだった。
「忘れるな、アミール」
声は硬い石のように響いた。
「母の腕に抱かれた記憶と同じ場所で、父たちは殺されたんだ。あの瓦礫はただの瓦礫じゃない」
アミールは唇を閉ざした。
夕暮れの川面が赤く揺らぎ、イーストリバー越しのマンハッタンの高層ビルの影がかすかに滲んでいた。
平和と破壊、記憶と憎しみが、同じ風の中で混じり合っていた。
金網の内では、子どもの笑い声がまだ響いていた。
しかし、ふたりの耳にはそれが遠い世界の残響にしか思えなかった。
///////////////////////////////////
夕陽は鉄の骨の継ぎ目を赤く染めながら、橋の下の熱気に揺れつつ静かに沈み込んだ。
コンクリートの裂け目に溜まった水が、夕陽を映して薄い金色に光っている。湿った空気にわずかな湯気が立ち、港から流れる潮の匂いがアミールの鼻腔に絡んだ。
廃工場の戸板は半ば外れ、風が古い新聞紙や枯れ葉を押し込み、小さな渦をつくっていた。蝉の声が遠くから響き、路線バスのブレーキ音が一度、吐息のように洩れた。
橋の下には、アミールとラフィのほかに、数名の仲間たちが散らばって立っている。肩をすくめ、汗を拭いながら地面に視線を落とす者もいれば、鉄梁に手をかけ、遠くの光景をじっと見つめる者もいた。
時折、子どもを待つ親の影と、白い屋根の送迎車が通り過ぎる。
アミールは汗で張り付いたシャツの背中をさすり、橋げたの影に腰を下ろした。
ラフィは少し離れて立った。影は長く伸び、照りつける西日に揺れていた。仲間たちは微動だにせず、息を殺すようにその場にいる。
「ここでやめられないのか」
アミールの声は、蒸し暑い夕暮れの空気に溶けかけた。脳裏には、母が崩れた石壁の隙間から差し出した小さな手が浮かんでいた。母の手はいつも、汚れた掌で彼の頬を撫でてくれた。そこに帰りたいという欲が、胸の奥でまだ微かに温かく息をしている。
ラフィは奥歯を噛みしめ、舌先だけで言った。簡潔で、海に投げる石のように冷たい。
「忘れるな、アミール。あの夜のことを忘れたら、俺たちは死んだ者たちを裏切る」
その声は、波打つ鉄板の軋みと混じり、遠くの子どもたちの笑い声や蝉の声とは相容れなかった。
アミールは目を細め、橋の欄干越しに流れてゆく光を見た。向こう岸に、きらめく窓が幾重にも並んでいる。そこには暮らしがあり、夕飯の匂いが立ち、子どもたちの笑い声や庭先で遊ぶ足音が、柔らかく響いているはずだ。
ラフィの頬に深い影が刺さり、拳を握りしめている。手の甲の血管が鋭く浮いた。
「お前のその願いが、誰かの墓標になることを、お前は知っているのか」
アミールの視線は、足元に落ちた小さな白いうさぎのぬいぐるみに止まった。埃にまみれ、ひとつの目が欠けていた。
そのぬいぐるみは、橋の下で遊んだ遠い誰かのものかもしれない。あるいは単に迷い込んだだけかもしれない。どちらにせよ、アミールにはその欠けた目が、消えていく日常の一瞥に思えた。
沈黙がふたりを隔てた。風が、橋げたの鉄梁を低く鳴らした。
周囲の世界は動き続ける。送迎車の戸が閉まり、親が子の肩を叩く。バスが一台、角を曲がる。仲間たちは微かに息を整え、視線を地面や遠方に巡らせたままだ。
アミールは振り返らず、橋の影から街のほうへ歩き出した。
後ろでラフィの吐息が一つだけ聞こえた。それは骸のような静けさを残し、夏の夕闇が緩やかに橋を飲み込んでゆく。橋下の仲間たちは、かすかな影のまま残り、夕陽の赤と鉄の冷たさの間に佇んでいた。
ラフィは静かにバッグを開き、タブレットを取り出した。指先に、微かに震えはあったが、心を鎮めるように深く息を吸い、mellow-echo.netの最下部にあるB“♭（フラット）”に、ミュートリーダーのカメラをかざした。暗い画面にディープレイヤーQRコードが浮かび上がると、指先はためらうことなく、“C4-ID:Vanta+Core/Ready.”の文字に沿って滑った。その手の動きは、橋下に残った仲間たちの緊張を微かに揺らし、乾いた鉄の匂いと湿った夏の風に溶けた。
イーストリバーを挟んだ対岸の橋下から、火花が一点、また一点と立ち上り、暗がりに赤く瞬いた。小さな光は、橋下の影を揺らし、鉄梁にぶつかる音が低く響く。ラフィの視線はアミールの背に残る影を追い、仲間たちは無言で後退りし、橋下から少しずつ距離を取った。
湿気を帯びた空気がラフィの肌をまとい、夕陽の赤と鉄の冷たさが入り混じる。橋下の静寂の中、火花の閃光と小さな軋みが、ラフィの胸の奥に奇妙な律動を生んだ。遠くで蝉が一声鳴き、街のざわめきは遙か彼方に霞んでゆく。
その緊張の波に押されるように、橋下の仲間たちは息をひそめ、視線と呼吸だけで互いの存在を確かめあった。
夏の夕闇は、まるで橋を、街を、そして残された影を静かに、しかし確かに飲み込んでいった。
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僕の新しい小説。
B♭ （ビーフラット）
舞台はニューヨークです。
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54840848974/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54829426478/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54811315069/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54793744070/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54771288620/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54769008619/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54758538180/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54743658539/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54737038151/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54720346098/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54713957969/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54703714420/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54696914108/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54686544606/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54653035442/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54639396885/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54628511025/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54599616429/in/dateposted...
Soundtrack.
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack/pl.u-47...
For japanese
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack-for-jap...
iTunes Playlist Link::
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b/pl.u-47DJGhopxMD
For japanese
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack-for-jap...
追記 この小説を多少説明しました。
youtu.be/3w65lqUF-YI?si=yG7qy6TPeCL9xRJV
メモ
1
「Bombay型（ボンベイ型、hh型）」
•特徴：通常のABO血液型を持たない（A、B、Oに分類されない）特殊な型。
•発見地：1952年、インド・ムンバイ（旧ボンベイ）で初めて確認。
•発生頻度：インドでは1万人に1人程度だが、世界的には約250万人に1人とも。
•輸血制限：同じBombay型しか輸血できない。
2
2024年ハーバード大学首席の卒業式スピーチ『知らないことの力』
youtu.be/SOUH8iVqSOI?si=Ju-Y728irtcWR71K
3
Shots fired at Trump rally
youtu.be/1ejfAkzjEhk?si=ASqJwEmkY-2rW_hT
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The Nikon F3, Nikon's first pro-level camera with an electronic shutter, was in production from 1980 through 2001. The pictured camera is fitted with the HP High-Eyepoint prism.
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The Nikon F3 was the first professional level Nikon SLR to incorporate an electronic shutter and automatic exposure capability. Of course, the F3 provides the same high-quality materials, refined fit and finish, and durability for professional use as all F-Series cameras. Like its predecessors, the F3 was part of a remarkably broad and advanced professional camera system.
When used in the new aperture priority mode, shutter speed range is a stepless 8 sec. to 1/2000 sec. An F3HP is an F3 body with a so-called "High-Eyepoint" DE-3 prism. Compared with the original F3 standard DE-2 eyelevel finder, the F3HP has a larger viewfinder eyepiece. Actually, most of the F3s that I have seen incorporate the HP viewfinder. Of course, the F3HP viewfinder provides a 100% frame coverage, like all F-series cameras, and a large, bright image with 0.8x magnification. Nikon offered 21 interchangeable focusing screens for the F3, but for general photography, the standard K screen (with split image, microprism collar, and matte field) is satisfactory.
Back in the day, I waited years to upgrade to the F3HP because I liked my F2AS so much. However, since I, like many, had been using a Nikon FE as my second body together with the F2AS, I eventually succumbed to the desire to have aperture priority auto exposure metering on my main camera body, as well.
The F3HP, particularly without the optional MD-4 motor drive attachment, has a perfect shape, body size, and weight for comfortable and stable holding as well as all-day carrying. The F3's built-in handgrip allows a firm grasp.
One advantage of the F3 over the F and F2 is that the exposure meter is incorporated into the camera body instead of the prism. As a result, you can now change viewfinders and still keep the exposure meter. The F3HP's easy-to-view High Eyepoint DE-3 prism is perfect for most purposes, but for various specialized professional applications, Nikon offered other types, such as the DW-3 Waist-Level Finder, the DA-2 Action Finder, and the DW-4 6x Magnification Finder. Nikon even produced the DX-1 AF Finder, with an electronic focus-aid indication!
The exposure meter on/off switch is a plastic lever that is incorporated around the shutter release button. This is something of a precursor to a similar switch on the future F4 and other newer Nikon camera bodies. However, I find the switch on the F3 quite tight and hard to turn. In fact, my original switch got damaged from long use and became stuck in the off position. I had get the switch replaced at my local repair shop. Fortunately, there is no reason why the switch could not just be left in the on position during periods when the camera is in frequent use. Even with the switch in the on position, the meter circuit does not actually activate unless the film wind crank is pulled slightly away from the body and the shutter release button pushed part way down. The shutter and meter are locked off when the film advance lever is pressed into the lock position. The F3 is the first F-level camera to utilize a standard ISO shutter release thread in the center of the shutter release button, instead of the older AR-2 style connector. The shutter release button is positioned just right, in the middle of the body, and has a silky-smooth feel.
As indicated above, the F3 is the first F-series camera body to support aperture priority automatic exposure instead of just manual exposure adjustment. Simply turn the shutter speed dial to "A" to enter this mode, then adjust the aperture ring appropriately. A really cool feature of the F3 is the 80% center-weighted exposure meter, concentrated within the viewfinder's 12 mm outer reference circle area. The 80% central weighting is a great compromise between Nikon's standard 60/40 weighting and a spot meter. The 80% weight allows you to easily meter on the most important section of the image, while still incorporating some exposure information from the remainder of the frame. You can center the 80% central spot on the metering target, then hold down the exposure memory lock button on the front of the body and re-frame. However, since I personally find it uncomfortable to use the exposure lock button in this position, I usually use manual exposure mode in these cases unless I am in a rush to shoot.
The F3 viewfinder includes at the top of the frame an ADR readout of the aperture setting on all Nikon F-mount lenses that have an aperture ring (basically any pre-G lens will work on the F3). To the left is an LCD display of the automatically or manually selected shutter speed, in full stop increments. One thing that I don't like about the F3's manual exposure mode is the compact-style manual exposure indicator display in the viewfinder. When in manual exposure mode, correct exposure is shown by small +- indicators to the left of the shutter speed display. You adjust the exposure until both the + and - indicators are visible at the same time. This system, while extremely accurate, is not as clear or quick as the match needle setup in the Nikkormat EL/FE/FE2/FM3A or the three diode (-o+) setup in the F2AS/FM/FM2n system. The F3's viewfinder display is illuminated by ambient light. However, you can push a small button on the prism to electronically illuminate the display in the dark.
The F3 is the last F-series body to have manual film wind, unless you attach the optional MD-4 Motor Drive (with up to 6 frames per second performance). Starting from the F4, the F-Series evolved to built-in automatic film advance. This is great if you need to often shoot rapidly. However, if you just want a high-end film camera for slower, more deliberative shooting, manual film advance provides quieter film operation, much better battery life, and a smaller and lighter package compared with the auto-advance F4, F5 and F6. Unlike the semi-pro bodies like the FE and FM, the film advance lever on the F3 may be operated in one complete stroke or a series of shorter strokes. The F3 can be used without a battery in an emergency. Just push the mechanical shutter release lever on the front of the camera, although the mechanical shutter speed is limited to only 1/60 second. That is certainly a far cry from a full range of shutter speeds, but at least flexible enough for many situations, if needed. Nevertheless, lack of power is almost never going to become an issue. My F3HP battery and shutter have never died throughout decades of use, and a single battery seems to last forever with the camera's low power usage.
The meter coupling lever on the F3 can be locked up to allow mounting of prehistoric non-AI lenses, although most users probably converted their non-AI lenses to AI decades ago. As a pro-level camera, the F3 has a proper mirror lock-up feature for certain specialized lenses and for slow exposure times. Of course, multiple exposures on a single frame are also supported.
Since the camera has an electronic shutter, it also has an electronic self-timer, complete with a flashing red light, just like modern SLRs.
The eyepiece has the usual shutter lever, but still no adjustable diopter. This is no problem, however, since Nikon still makes screw-in diopter lenses for the F3. Actually, the F3HP works fine with diopter lenses for the F90X, F100, etc. These diopter lenses have screw-in rings that are slightly thinner than harder to find ones that are actually designed for the F3. The large F3HP viewfinder eyepiece is relatively easy to use with glasses. On the F3 without the HP prism, use diopters that are designed for the FM/FE series of cameras.
In order to use an electronic flash unit, just like the earlier generation F and F2 bodies, the F3 still requires that an accessory shoe be mounted over the rewind knob, or that a special Nikon F3 flash unit be mounted directly onto the camera in the same position. (Of course, you could also use a side-bracket flash with a synch terminal cable.) Interestingly, the maximum flash synchronization speed is 1/80 sec., slightly slower than the 1/90 sec. maximum synch speed on the Nikon F2. The new advance is that the F3 offers TTL automatic flash exposure, although the F3 can't simultaneously meter ambient light. The powerful F3-era Nikon SB-16a Speedlight is a perfect match for the camera. Newer Nikon flash units can also provide TTL flash functionality with the F3, when used with the special adapter AS-17, which also allows convenient flash exposure compensation.
If you don't have the AS-17, you can do balanced fill flash the old way, as follows. First, set the background exposure manually, with a shutter speed at or below the maximum electronic flash synchronization speed. Then set the appropriate camera distance based on the film ISO, selected aperture and guide number. Finally, fill flash is achieved by further shutting down the aperture by 1-2 stops, and correspondingly adjusting the shutter speed. You can also set the SB-16a to TTL and adjust the flash exposure down by 1-2 stops using the exposure compensation dial. The compensation dial does not adjust the background exposure in this case because both shutter speed and aperture are set manually. All that being said, for fill flash, it would frankly be easier and faster to use a more modern body such as the F90X, F100, F5 or F6, which all provide various forms of 3D matrix automatic balanced fill-flash, Nikon's most advanced flash system. The F4 also has a pretty good flash capability, but it is still one generation older pre-3D technology (i.e., no communication of subject distance from D-type lenses.)
The basic Nikon F3 and F3HP were available in black. The Nikon F3 was also available in a few special variants, all of which had the High-Eyepoint viewfinder, such as the Nikon F3/T with a titanium exterior, the Nikon F3 Press, and various limited edition models. The F3/T was produced in both champagne and black colors.
As a pro-level camera, the F3 offers the benefits of aperture priority auto exposure, basic TTL flash, and a more compact and elegant design than the prior-generation F and F2 bodies. Compared with its later descendants, the F3 does not provide such benefits as matrix (multi-segment) metering, automatic balanced fill flash, multiple exposure modes, and built-in automatic film advance. On the other hand, the core F3 is significantly smaller and lighter than those later pro-level bodies. And, when used properly, the F3's exposure metering system can be just as effective, or even more so, compared with the early-generation matrix metering systems in some later Nikon cameras. For deliberative photographers who still like to shoot film, the F3 and F3HP provide a highly-refined and relatively compact manual focus platform for the extensive universe of "Pre-G"-type Nikon F-Mount lenses.
Copyright © 2015 Timothy A. Rogers. All rights reserved.
(DSC_5875fin2)
Number: CT-1287
Name: Redwing
Rank: ARC Sergeant
Primary weapon: DC-15s Blaster
Secondary weapon: Vibroknife
Equipment: Bacta-Implants, Integrated Squad Comms, Modified Long Range Binoculars, Explosives Pack
...:: BEGIN LOG ::...
The exciting events on Vandos Prime left the legion exhausted. So as such, Sergeant Jester sent us to a less demanding post...or so we thought.
The mission started simple, just corral the locals. The Correlian workers party seemed to have done something behind the Republic’s back. Riots were popping up all over the holomap. Most of the 253rd got sent to the shipyards to stop the increasing riot activity creeping towards the shipyards. We needed those shipyards, and bad. The Republic’s Galactic Navy was suffering in the Starfighter department. Many losses above planets such as Agamar and Aeos Prime, had weakened the Republics strength.
Really, we were fighting for the entire Republic, for our brothers in the skies, space and beyond. I hoped my brothers in arms realized this. I really did, these guys seemed more driven by violence than actual goal. But I forgave them, they were my brothers after all.
-
The gunships made a quick landing in some of the shipyards to let the legion off. Looking across the skyline I could see ware houses and massive mechanical structures. But more specifically I could see the other sergeants and lieutenants jumping off their Gunships with such purpose and drive. They looked amazing, fighting for a cause they’ve always believed in. My mind drifted towards thoughts beyond the visor, beyond the Republic, but only for a second as Sergeant Dagger’s armored hand came down on my left shoulder pauldron. Surprised I reached for my vibroknife attached to my chest plate. Then I heard the words:
“Hey, hey calm down CT-1287.”
“It’s Redwing.”
“Yes of course. My bad, are you alright sarge? You seem...on edge.”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I grudgingly said. I had forgotten where I was or where my head was rather and thanked Dagger for the check in. We clasped hands and bumped chests, ou pauldrons clanged as we released.
We jumped out of the Gunship simultaneously and clattered to the ground. Our armor wasn’t as silent as it had looked from a distance. We parted ways and wished each other good luck. Dagger was going head on into the riots, my squad and I would find our own problem to deal with.
// Redwing to command // My squad and I are going dark. We are raiding a warehouse that seems to have sophisticated radio system. We’ll see you on the other side—
Title:
Handle. Concrete. Drain.
日本語のあらすじ等は下の方にあります😃
B♭ (B Flat)
A Novel by Mitsushiro Nakagawa
“Synopsis”
A Palestinian group from Gaza hacks into North Korea’s cryptocurrency system, stealing hundreds of millions of dollars. Their true goal is not money—but to recreate the lost homeland of Gaza on American soil.
Amid the backdrop of hardline Republican immigration policies and a growing wave of xenophobia, a quiet plan begins to take shape: the gradual collapse of America from within.
During a speech at Madison Square Garden, Republican presidential candidate Justin Bradford is shot. Almost simultaneously in Los Angeles, former president Owen Reed is attacked at a rally for Democratic hopeful Ryan Bennett.
Two assassinations—mirroring one another—ignite a nation’s deepest divide. Yet, against all odds, Justin survives. His blood type is one in 2.5 million: the Bombay Blood Group.
The only person who can donate such blood is Anaya Patel, a community art facilitator working in Brooklyn. Her blood, stored in the Bellevue Hospital Blood Bank, is used for an emergency transfusion that saves the candidate’s life.
Jack Vance, an agent of the U.S. Secret Service, suspects a Gaza-based network behind the attacks. Together with Cameron Bartlett, the FBI Director of the Los Angeles Field Office, and Veronica Reeves, a senior investigator from New York, he begins to uncover a vast conspiracy.
Their investigation leads them to Rafi Gannam, a former architecture student at the Islamic University of Gaza, who has infiltrated redevelopment sites across Los Angeles and New York—embedding C4 explosives deep within beams and structural cores.
His targets: new residential districts where agents of ICE (Immigration and Customs Enforcement) and ERO (Enforcement and Removal Operations) live—symbols of “the order America built.”
Veronica urges the President to pursue dialogue to prevent further destruction, but President Grant M. Ranford refuses to listen.
Meanwhile, the recovering Justin and his Democratic rival Ryan appear on national television, calling for unity beyond political divisions.
Their words of reason, however, are drowned out when Grant takes the stage in Iowa, defiantly declaring: “We will never bow to terror.”
Among the crowd, Rafi’s operatives have already taken their positions.
As chaos erupts and the stage collapses, Amir Nasser—once Rafi’s comrade, haunted by the memory of his sister’s death in Gaza—tries desperately to halt the chain of destruction.
But Rafi’s conviction remains unshaken.
Under the twilight beneath the Williamsburg Bridge, amid the city’s fading noise, the two men part ways.
It is the boundary between prayer and vengeance, between hope and nothingness.
“Characters”
Anaya Patel – 25, Community Art Facilitator
Arjun Singh – 26, Anaya’s boyfriend, Luminatech Innovations
Mika Sato – 25, Anaya’s friend, Community Art Facilitator
Justin Bradford – 27, Republican Presidential Candidate
Eleanor Blake – 26, Justin’s fiancée
President Grant M. Langford – 61, Incumbent Republican President
Vice President Charles “Chuck” Baines – 64, Incumbent Republican Vice President
Ryan Bennett – 30, Democratic Presidential Candidate
Sophia Bennett – 30, Ryan’s wife
Owen Reed – 65, Former Democratic President
Jack Vance – 45, Secret Service, Former FBI Los Angeles Field Office
Ben Holloway – 30, Jack’s colleague
Darryl Ross – 29, Jack’s colleague
Elijah Kane – 28, Jack’s colleague
Marcus Dane – 45, FBI Los Angeles Field Office
Cameron Bartlett – 55, FBI Los Angeles Field Office, Field Office Director
Tom Caldwell – 38, FBI Technical Unit, Marcus’s subordinate
Veronica Reeves – 41, FBI Special Agent
Alexander Harris – 52, FBI New York Field Office, Field Office Director
Elliot Chen – 36, Technology Unit Chief
Alicia Monroe – 58, FBI Director
Zakaria Haddad – 51, Gaza Strip, Palestine; Former Islamic University Engineering Professor, New York Team
Amir Nasser – 23, Gaza Strip, Palestine; Former Islamic University Electronics Engineering, New York Team
Rafi Gannam – 32, Gaza Strip, Palestine; Islamic University, Architecture, New York Team
Rohan Shah – 29, Gaza Strip, Palestine; Islamic University, Architecture, New York Team
Majid Hamza – 47, Gaza Strip, Palestine; University of Palestine, Information Technology, Los Angeles Team
Samira Hammad – 28, Gaza Strip, Palestine; University of Palestine, Engineering, Los Angeles Team
Saeed Kabari – 35, Gaza Strip, Palestine; University of Palestine, Business Administration, Los Angeles Team
Reem Nasser – 30, Gaza Strip, Palestine; University of Palestine, Media Studies, Los Angeles Team
Noah Levi – 55, Israel, residing in Tel Aviv, Jewish
B♭ will be released worldwide on February 29, 2026.
Recently, director Ridley Scott remarked that streaming films and series have become dull.
I agree.
If you have two hours to spare for such stories, I ask for only two minutes of your time.
Two minutes with my novel will outlast those two hours.
I am confident of that.
Stay tuned.
Mitsushiro
October 9th, 2025
P.S.
Micchan — the man who challenges Netflix. 😃
(Nikon Coolpix 8700 shot)
Manhattan. New York. USA. 2007. … 1 / 10
(Photo of the day. This has already been published, but I recently re-edited it from the original.)
Images.
Yazmin Lacey – Voice Notes
youtu.be/Ojp1BXMrDwY?si=NfsrDz0b6_MGBolr
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
My new novel:
B♭ (B-flat)
There’s still more to come. 😃
(This is not the final draft.)
Set in New York City.
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:: Soundtrack ::
B♭ ( My Novel . Soundtrack )
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack/pl.u-47...
B♭ ( My Novel . Soundtrack . For Japanese)
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack-for-jap...
B♭ ( My Novel . Soundtrack . Sweet Summer rain ver.)
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack-sweet-s...
B♭ ( My Novel . Soundtrack . Hard days ver.)
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack-hard-da...
::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Note: I gave a brief explanation of this novel in the following video:
youtu.be/3w65lqUF-YI?si=yG7qy6TPeCL9xRJV
My new novel:
B♭ (B-flat)
Notes
1. "Bombay Blood Type (hh type)"
•Characteristics: A rare blood type that lacks the usual ABO antigens — cannot be classified as A, B, or O.
•Discovery: First identified in 1952 in Mumbai, India (formerly Bombay).
•Prevalence: Roughly 1 in 10,000 people in India; globally, about 1 in 2.5 million.
•Transfusion Compatibility: Only compatible with blood from other Bombay type donors.
2. 2024 Harvard University Valedictorian Speech – The Power of Not Knowing
youtu.be/SOUH8iVqSOI?si=Ju-Y728irtcWR71K
3. Shots Fired at Trump Rally
youtu.be/1ejfAkzjEhk?si=ASqJwEmkY-2rW_hT
Mitsushiro Nakagawa belong to Lot No. 402 _.Copyright©︎2025 Lot No.402_ All rights reserved.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Title:
ハンドル。 コンクリート。 排水溝。
僕の新しい小説
B♭ （ビーフラット） ……. Mitsushiro Nakagawa
“あらすじ”
北朝鮮の仮想通貨システムをハッキングし、数億ドルを奪取したガザ出身のパレスチナ人グループが、アメリカ合衆国へ密かに潜入する。
彼らの目的は、失われた祖国ガザを、アメリカの地に「復元」することだった。
共和党による強硬な移民政策と、国内にくすぶる排外感情を利用し、アメリカ社会を内側から崩壊させる計画が静かに進行していく。
共和党大統領候補ジャスティン・ブラッドフォードがマディソン・スクエア・ガーデンで演説中に狙撃され、ほぼ同時刻、ロサンゼルスでは前大統領オーウェン・リードもまた、民主党候補ライアン・ベネットの集会で撃たれる。
国家を二分する双方向の暗殺。だが、ジャスティンは奇跡的に生還する。
彼の血液型は、世界でわずか250万人に一人といわれる「ボンベイブラッド」。
その希少な血を提供できたのは、ブルックリンで活動するコミュニティアート・ファシリテーター、アナヤ・パテルだった。
彼女の血液はベルビュー病院の血液バンクに保存されており、緊急輸血によって、候補者の命はかろうじて繋がれた。
シークレットサービスのジャック・バンスは、テロの背後にガザ出身の組織が関与していることを察知し、FBIロサンゼルス支局長官キャメロン・バートレット、ニューヨーク支局の特別捜査官ヴェロニカ・リーブスと共に捜査を進める。
やがて彼らは、イスラム大学で建築学を学んだラフィ・ガンナムが、ロサンゼルスやニューヨークの再開発現場に潜入し、梁や構造体の中枢にC4爆薬を仕込んでいた事実に辿り着く。
標的は、ICE（移民・関税執行局）やERO（執行・送還作戦部門）の職員が暮らす新興住宅街——すなわち、「アメリカが築いた秩序」そのものだった。
ヴェロニカは、これ以上の破壊を防ぐため、大統領への対話を進言するが、現職のグラント・ランフォード大統領は耳を貸さない。
一方、命を取り留めたジャスティンと民主党候補ライアンは、テレビを通じて国民に訴えかけ、分断を乗り越えようとする。
だが、その理性の声を嘲笑うかのように、グラントはアイオワ州での演説を強行し、「テロには屈しない」と宣言する。
その会場には、すでにラフィの仲間が率いる工作チームが潜入していた。
崩壊する会場の惨状を前に、仲間の一人アミール・ナッセルは、かつてガザで妹を失った記憶に引き裂かれ、破壊の連鎖を止めようとする。
だが、ラフィの信念は揺るがない。
ウィリアムズバーグ橋の下、夕暮れの喧騒のなか、二人は決別する。
それは、祈りと報復、希望と虚無の境界線だった——。
“登場人物”
アナヤ・パテル ２５歳 コミュニティアート・ファシリテーター
アルジュン・シン ２６歳 アナヤの恋人・ルミナテック・イノベーションズ社
佐藤 ミカ ２５歳 アナの友人・コミュニティアート・ファシリテーター
ジャスティン・ブラッドフォード ２７歳 共和党大統領候補
エリノア・ブレイク ２６歳 ジャスティンの婚約者
グラント・M・ランフォード大統領 ６１歳 共和党大統領現職
チャールズ・ベインズ副大統領 ６４歳 共和党副大統領現職
ライアン・ベネット ３０歳 民主党大統領候補
ソフィア・ベネット ３０歳 ライアンの妻
オーウェン・リード ６５歳 民主党前大統領
ジャック・バンス ４５歳 シークレットサービス 元FBIロサンゼルス支局
ベン・ホロウェイ ３０歳 ジャックの同僚
ダリル・ロス ２９歳 ジャックの同僚
イライジャ・ケイン ２８歳 ジャックの同僚
マーカス・デイン ４５歳 FBI ロサンゼルス支局
キャメロン・バートレット ５５歳 FBI ロサンゼルス支局 支局長
トム・コールドウェル ３８歳 FBI技術班 マーカスの部下
ヴェロニカ・リーヴス ４１歳 FBI特別捜査官
アレクサンダー・ハリス ５２歳 FBI ニューヨーク支局 支局長
エリオット・チェン ３６歳 テクノロジー班主任
アリシア・モンロー ５８歳 FBI長官
ザカリア・ハッダード ５１歳 パレスチナ・ガザ地区 元イスラム大学 工学部教授 ニューヨークチーム
アミール・ナッセル ２３歳 パレスチナ・ガザ地区 元イスラム大学 電子工学部 ニューヨークチーム
ラフィ・ガンナム ３２歳 パレスチナ・ガザ地区 イスラム大学 建築学部 ニューヨークチーム
ロハン・シャー ２９歳 パレスチナ・ガザ地区 イスラム大学 建築学部 ニューヨークチーム
マジード・ハムザ ４７歳 パレスチナ・ガザ地区 パレスチナ大学 情報技術学部 ロサンゼルスチーム
サミラ・ハンマド ２８歳 パレスチナ・ガザ地区 パレスチナ大学 工学部 ロサンゼルスチーム
サイード・カバリ ３５歳 パレスチナ・ガザ地区 パレスチナ大学 経営学部 ロサンゼルスチーム
リーム・ナセル ３０歳 パレスチナ・ガザ地区 パレスチナ大学 メディア学部 ロサンゼルスチーム
ノア・レヴィ 55歳 イスラエル テルアビブ在住 ユダヤ人
僕のこの小説は、来年、２０２６年２月末日に公開します。
先日、リドリースコット監督がサブスクの映画やドラマ群がつまらないと話していたようだけど、同感です。
僕も非常に退屈です。
それらに2時間を要するなら、僕の小説を２分間だけ読んで欲しい。
その2分間は、２時間を越えるでしょう。
僕は自信があります。
ぜひ、期待してお待ちください。
Mitsushiro Nakagawa
09th. Oct . 2025.
追伸
ネトフリに挑戦する男、みっちゃん。😃
( Nikon coolpix 8700 shot )
マンハッタン。ニューヨーク。アメリカ。2007. … 1 / 10
(今日の写真。それは発表済みです。しかし最近、オリジナルから再編集しました。）
Images.
Yazmin Lacey – Voice Notes
youtu.be/Ojp1BXMrDwY?si=NfsrDz0b6_MGBolr
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
僕の新しい小説。
B♭ （ビーフラット）
舞台はニューヨークです。
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:: Soundtrack ::
B♭ ( My Novel . Soundtrack )
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack/pl.u-47...
B♭ ( My Novel . Soundtrack . For Japanese)
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack-for-jap...
B♭ ( My Novel . Soundtrack . Sweet Summer rain ver.)
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack-sweet-s...
B♭ ( My Novel . Soundtrack . Hard days ver.)
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack-hard-da...
::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Note: I gave a brief explanation of this novel in the following video:
youtu.be/3w65lqUF-YI?si=yG7qy6TPeCL9xRJV
追記 この小説を多少説明しました。
youtu.be/3w65lqUF-YI?si=yG7qy6TPeCL9xRJV
メモ
1
「Bombay型（ボンベイ型、hh型）」
•特徴：通常のABO血液型を持たない（A、B、Oに分類されない）特殊な型。
•発見地：1952年、インド・ムンバイ（旧ボンベイ）で初めて確認。
•発生頻度：インドでは1万人に1人程度だが、世界的には約250万人に1人とも。
•輸血制限：同じBombay型しか輸血できない。
2
2024年ハーバード大学首席の卒業式スピーチ『知らないことの力』
youtu.be/SOUH8iVqSOI?si=Ju-Y728irtcWR71K
3
Shots fired at Trump rally
youtu.be/1ejfAkzjEhk?si=ASqJwEmkY-2rW_hT
Mitsushiro Nakagawa belong to Lot No. 402 _.Copyright©︎2025 Lot No.402_ All rights reserved.
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Collected in 1901 simultaneously with the Lermontov Gallery in Pyatigorsk. Both kurzal made St. Petersburg Metal Works and the Warsaw production company "Gostynsky and K" and arrived at Kavminvody by rail unassembled. The pavilion of the machine department of the All-Russian Art and Industrial Exhibition in Nizhny Novgorod, designed by Professor A. Pomerantsev, served as a model for their creation. The creative discoveries of the Russian specialist were able to be developed and implemented by the Polish architect Z. E. Khrzhanovsky in the form of collapsible premises. The opening of Zheleznovodsky Kurzal took place in 1902 and coincided with the 65th anniversary of the death of A.S. Pushkin. VF Komissarzhevskaya, N. N. Khodotov, M. Dalsky and other famous actors of the beginning of the last century played on the stage of the Pushkin Gallery. In 1918, Soviet power was proclaimed here in Zheleznovodsk. In 1937, to the 100th anniversary of the death of A.S. Pushkin, a sculpture of the poet, created by sculptor S.D. Merkurov, was installed in the exhibition hall of the gallery.
Title:
Traveler.
B♭ (B Flat)
A Novel by Mitsushiro Nakagawa
日本語のあらすじ等は下の方にあります😃
一部分の公開を更新しました。今回が最後です😃
“Synopsis”
A Palestinian group from Gaza hacks into North Korea’s cryptocurrency system, stealing hundreds of millions of dollars. Their true goal is not money—but to recreate the lost homeland of Gaza on American soil.
Amid the backdrop of hardline Republican immigration policies and a growing wave of xenophobia, a quiet plan begins to take shape: the gradual collapse of America from within.
During a speech at Madison Square Garden, Republican presidential candidate Justin Bradford is shot. Almost simultaneously in Los Angeles, former president Owen Reed is attacked at a rally for Democratic hopeful Ryan Bennett.
Two assassinations—mirroring one another—ignite a nation’s deepest divide. Yet, against all odds, Justin survives. His blood type is one in 2.5 million: the Bombay Blood Group.
The only person who can donate such blood is Anaya Patel, a community art facilitator working in Brooklyn. Her blood, stored in the Bellevue Hospital Blood Bank, is used for an emergency transfusion that saves the candidate’s life.
Jack Vance, an agent of the U.S. Secret Service, suspects a Gaza-based network behind the attacks. Together with Cameron Bartlett, the FBI Director of the Los Angeles Field Office, and Veronica Reeves, a senior investigator from New York, he begins to uncover a vast conspiracy.
Their investigation leads them to Rafi Gannam, a former architecture student at the Islamic University of Gaza, who has infiltrated redevelopment sites across Los Angeles and New York—embedding C4 explosives deep within beams and structural cores.
His targets: new residential districts where agents of ICE (Immigration and Customs Enforcement) and ERO (Enforcement and Removal Operations) live—symbols of “the order America built.”
Veronica urges the President to pursue dialogue to prevent further destruction, but President Grant M. Ranford refuses to listen.
Meanwhile, the recovering Justin and his Democratic rival Ryan appear on national television, calling for unity beyond political divisions.
Their words of reason, however, are drowned out when Grant takes the stage in Iowa, defiantly declaring: “We will never bow to terror.”
Among the crowd, Rafi’s operatives have already taken their positions.
As chaos erupts and the stage collapses, Amir Nasser—once Rafi’s comrade, haunted by the memory of his sister’s death in Gaza—tries desperately to halt the chain of destruction.
But Rafi’s conviction remains unshaken.
Under the twilight beneath the Williamsburg Bridge, amid the city’s fading noise, the two men part ways.
It is the boundary between prayer and vengeance, between hope and nothingness.
“Characters”
Anaya Patel – 25, Community Art Facilitator
Arjun Singh – 26, Anaya’s boyfriend, Luminatech Innovations
Mika Sato – 25, Anaya’s friend, Community Art Facilitator
Justin Bradford – 27, Republican Presidential Candidate
Eleanor Blake – 26, Justin’s fiancée
President Grant M. Langford – 61, Incumbent Republican President
Vice President Charles “Chuck” Baines – 64, Incumbent Republican Vice President
Ryan Bennett – 30, Democratic Presidential Candidate
Sophia Bennett – 30, Ryan’s wife
Owen Reed – 65, Former Democratic President
Jack Vance – 45, Secret Service, Former FBI Los Angeles Field Office
Ben Holloway – 30, Jack’s colleague
Darryl Ross – 29, Jack’s colleague
Elijah Kane – 28, Jack’s colleague
Marcus Dane – 45, FBI Los Angeles Field Office
Cameron Bartlett – 55, FBI Los Angeles Field Office, Field Office Director
Tom Caldwell – 38, FBI Technical Unit, Marcus’s subordinate
Veronica Reeves – 41, FBI Special Agent
Alexander Harris – 52, FBI New York Field Office, Field Office Director
Elliot Chen – 36, Technology Unit Chief
Alicia Monroe – 58, FBI Director
Zakaria Haddad – 51, Gaza Strip, Palestine; Former Islamic University Engineering Professor, New York Team
Amir Nasser – 23, Gaza Strip, Palestine; Former Islamic University Electronics Engineering, New York Team
Rafi Gannam – 32, Gaza Strip, Palestine; Islamic University, Architecture, New York Team
Rohan Shah – 29, Gaza Strip, Palestine; Islamic University, Architecture, New York Team
Majid Hamza – 47, Gaza Strip, Palestine; University of Palestine, Information Technology, Los Angeles Team
Samira Hammad – 28, Gaza Strip, Palestine; University of Palestine, Engineering, Los Angeles Team
Saeed Kabari – 35, Gaza Strip, Palestine; University of Palestine, Business Administration, Los Angeles Team
Reem Nasser – 30, Gaza Strip, Palestine; University of Palestine, Media Studies, Los Angeles Team
Noah Levi – 55, Israel, residing in Tel Aviv, Jewish
B♭ will be released worldwide on February 29, 2026.
Recently, director Ridley Scott remarked that streaming films and series have become dull.
I agree.
If you have two hours to spare for such stories, I ask for only two minutes of your time.
Two minutes with my novel will outlast those two hours.
I am confident of that.
Stay tuned.
Mitsushiro
October 9th, 2025
P.S.
Micchan — the man who challenges Netflix. 😃
Manhattan. New York. USA. 2017. ... 2 / 10
(Today's photo. It was previously unpublished, but has recently been re-edited from the original.)
Images.
Taylor Swift … This Love
youtu.be/PfJzQuqWSSE?si=TrtL4Mb-uN2dNmML
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🌟 My New Novel: "B♭" (B Flat)
This is the 20th installment! 😄
The following is still in the first draft stage. I will revise it further.
•The order of the content being shared is random.
•This will be the final time I share partial excerpts.
The full novel will be released on February 28, 2026.
Please look forward to it! 😃
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My new novel
B♭ (B Flat)
English translation by GPT-5, in collaboration with Mitsushiro Nakagawa
“Jack, look at your phone. Another message just came through. The IP address traces to a branch of the New York Public Library near Grand Central — via the Stavros Niarchos Foundation.”
It was a FaceTime from Ben. He was standing by in the NYPD Midtown South command post just beside the Garden. Despite everything that was happening, Ben’s voice was calm.
Jack slid his finger across his iPhone and read the short line that appeared. The characters lay down carelessly, yet somehow they gave the sentence a shape.
— There’s an arched ceiling in the underground concourse of Grand Central. Come there. Jack Vance. And don’t come alone — though, of course, you won’t be alone. —
The message struck at the inside of Jack’s chest like a ringing.
The car threaded north along Vanderbilt Avenue and came up at the southern lip of Grand Central. The city had not quite woken; the damp that hid in the canyon between buildings carried the metallic smell of morning. Jack let off the gas and eased the black SUV to the curb, almost sliding it along. As the tires brushed the edge of the pavement, the remaining beads of rain on the road leapt up into streaks of light.
He pushed open the heavy door and stepped out. His shoes hit the cobbles a beat later. Once he turned to look down the street behind him, the red reflection of a siren flashed through a shop window and briefly lit the faces of passersby, whitening them for a single instant.
Weaving through that cut of light, Jack made for the stairs that led down to the concourse. The service door groaned with a slight metallic protest. Inside, a low hum, like the breathing of a subway, filled the space. A cold breath struck his cheeks, and from the depths of the HVAC ducts a distant station announcement blurred toward him.
Wiping the sweat from his brow, Jack took the stairs of Grand Central two at a time. The amber lighting flowed across his soles; his footsteps linked together like the heartbeat of the terminal.
The iron handrail was cold, passing a faint tremor into his fingertips. From far down the stairs other footsteps layered over one another, keeping an old rhythm that led downward. The arched ceiling drew the air in gently; the lights spread a thin film of glow.
The concourse smelled of damp; the old brick walls seemed unable to forget past rains and exhaled them faintly. The floor tiles were dulled by years of feet; hairline cracks ran through them, where little memories of the city had gathered. Jack walked without attending to these things. His gaze was naturally drawn to the darkness at the far end of the corridor. The usual stream of commuters hurried past.
Weathered signs and bulletin boards clung to the walls like pillows for torn flyers. A cleaner dragged her mop in a single ribbon; beyond it, a lone bench sat as if sketching a pale loneliness.
The air that moved through the passage felt to Jack like the slow pulse of a city’s vein. He felt his breath fall into the same beat and kept walking.
Light touched the tiles at his feet and shadows stretched and swayed. The faint metallic noise of an escalator sounded somewhere far away; the gust from the stairs cooled the heat that had gathered in his body. The scent of the city, the underground damp, and the faint warmth of old lamps mixed; time began to melt slowly.
Stopping, Jack rubbed his palms and let his eyes roam. The hum all around carried a peculiar echo that blurred one’s sense of direction. He told himself he was only looking for “it,” somewhere in the concourse.
As he moved again, a high metallic scrape suddenly sliced the air. His neck muscles twitched and a tautness ran through the soles of his feet. Reflexively he froze; at the edge of his vision a receiver quivered.
Its cord, knotted with the weight of years, twisted; dusty metal glinted dully. A telephone that should have been unused rang out abruptly, like a festival bell — an alien note within the city’s hush. The sound was low but it made the air itself tremble.
Jack turned to it slowly. The heavy underground air seemed to press against the backs of his knees. All he heard was his own breathing and the faint vibration of the receiver. People flowed past as if nothing had happened: a mother led a child by the hand, an old man refolded his newspaper and tucked it under his arm, and moved on.
The receiver was calling to Jack. The call came from a tear in silence, spreading slowly like ink trembling on the reverse side of an old map. He reached out without speaking and picked up the handset. The metal was cold; that cold dropped reality onto his palm.
“…Jack.”
The voice was low but distinct. Its timbre made time seem to slip backward just a touch. He recognized the voice from online footage; yet unlike the voice heard on television, here it carried not a blade but the color of a distant sunset.
Through the receiver Jack felt the corridor’s edges, the bench’s solitude, the small scrap of paper on the floor trickle into the pauses of the conversation. The voice let the city’s details slide in through the window of speech.
“What’s up, Amir? Sounding a little low.” Jack’s voice was quiet and heavy, like a stone dropped to ground. Through the handset he heard Amir’s small nasal laugh.
“Sometimes you get down — you’re only human.”
The voice was calm and remote. It was not the public mask Amir sometimes wore, but something honed in shadow. During the call the brief chatter of a passing parent and child snapped into the line and then was gone.
“Listen carefully to what I’m going to say. Well, you’re probably recording.”
“Likewise,” Jack replied.
Amir’s words fell smoothly through the receiver, making tiny ripples on the tiled floor of the underground. The noise around them blurred once and then resolved again: the mother’s footsteps, the mop’s scrape, the distant clink of a vending machine — all intersecting with the rhythm of speech.
“I’m out of the team. The reason? I don’t want to watch more people die. That’s it.”
Jack felt the receiver’s pulse under his fingers. The voice tried on calm but Jack could hear a tremor beneath. The lights in the concourse blurred slightly with each of Amir’s sentences.
“Are you asking me to believe that? Your professor Zakaria says don’t talk like that — he went out in a big way.” Amir fell silent and let out an exhale that sounded like a laugh as if to shrug something off. At the corridor’s edge a child sucking on candy made a tiny wet sound that filled the space between words.
“So what now? Heartbroken?” Jack asked.
“Something like that. This detonator will destroy many buildings yet.”
That phrase punched through the little room inside the receiver. For an instant the light underground clouded faintly. Yet the corridor moved on as always; no one turned. The anomaly existed only in sound.
“Tell me exactly where, how many, what mechanism — brief. Don’t mix in jokes.” Jack’s tone chilled like ice cracking. Amir tried to explain calmly, but Jack listened more to the weight behind the words than to their particulars. In the pauses, the phone booth’s shadow stretched and traced a thin black groove across the floor.
“We weren’t trained terrorists, not professionals. The information was distributed piece by piece. Think of how betrayal would happen — like how I can call you now.” Amir’s voice was careful; not fearful. Jack pressed the receiver to his ear and felt the city’s everyday noises woven into the fabric of the explanation. An old woman adjusting her bag at the corridor’s edge, the faint opening of a shutter somewhere distant — the beginnings of small workdays.
“We infiltrated about five years ago. We planted C4 in the core of buildings that were being built then. Rafi studied architecture, so he knew where to place it. You’ve seen the collapse a million times online, you know how it looks. To detonate, you need an old phone that reads a ‘mute reader’ QR code. Along with it is a tablet I made myself. I embedded C4 into two-thirds of its battery. The tablet has old fingerprint authentication — the kind from a long time ago. I made two of them. One is in Los Angeles, one in New York.”
“So there are two detonators?”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t the only one from the electronics department. Also, the phones that read the QR code are ancient, too specialized — they never caught on.”
“How do you trigger it?”
“There’s a special QR code placed on a site. You hold the phone up and read it. The QR is a 3D layer. The code rises in relief, deciphers itself, converts into a detonation code, and sends it by radio.”
“Radio? Not Wi‑Fi?”
“If it were Wi‑Fi you’d shut it down quickly. I modified the tablet. It’s not Wi‑Fi — it uses FM radio, like pirate radio.”
“We can jam the frequency.”
Amir laughed for a long moment before speaking.
“I set the app so the frequency can be changed arbitrarily. I also set it so that any signal sent to jam the frequency triggers the detonation. So either way, boom.”
Jack was silent for a little while, then asked,
“Where is the QR code located?”
“I don’t know. Everything was compartmentalized. Hardware production, QR placement, activation method. By scattering the flow, it seemed designed to deter betrayal.”
Silence fell again between them. Amir lifted his eyes from the ground and said,
“Jack, I’d tell you if I knew. Only those holding a mute reader would know. Today, that’s…”
“Just Rafi?”
“That’s right.”
Silence spread between them. The call hovered like thin ice. Jack’s breathing returned slowly to the present. The underground light was narrow but it marked him clearly.
“Why are you talking?”
“Like I said. I’m tired of people dying.”
“You knew you’d talk and yet Rafi let you go unharmed? Sounds too neat to be true.”
“Maybe I’m just making it up to dupe you.”
“Jack, take it easy. Amir, don’t move.”
Veronica’s composed voice cut into the call.
“Jack, he’s quite handsome in person.”
Amir, who was standing on the opposite side of the wall from Jack, holding a receiver himself, smiled at that.
The joke across the handset dried the damp air of the concourse a little. They were tracing different faces of the same space with their fingers.
Jack tightened his grip on the receiver and nodded softly. The nod felt like a small signal matched to the city’s beat and also like the announcement of yet another endless season.
Light in the corridor flowed slowly; shadows folded and layered; the conversation seeped into the tiles and sank.
Jack looked around slowly. The NYPD officers who routinely guarded Grand Central from terror stood at the entrances. Under Veronica’s orders, they had all focused on keeping Amir within range. Red and green laser dots from M4 carbines with Picatinny rails marked Amir’s feet. Likely the red came from the terminal’s NYPD contingent and the green from Veronica’s team. Two squads had lined up their sights to contain his movement. Of course, the sights were not on Amir’s forehead.
Suddenly a sharp smack of sound struck the receiver.
“Amir, who are you?” It was Ana.
Amir’s eyes widened for an instant then he recovered.
“Was I followed? Miss Patel. And who are you? Getting in Jack’s way.”
He shrugged with his thumb and pointed to his own feet, where the red and green laser dots rested. Ana stepped forward in her voice.
“Please. Come with Jack.”
Jack added, “For now, get arrested. We’ll hear the details with Veronica.”
Veronica said nothing; Jack assumed she nodded. He switched the receiver in his hand.
Amir laughed.
“If I were to say yes and surrender, we wouldn’t be having this conversation now, would we? Look — trains are coming in. Watch your crosshairs.”
The concourse swelled with people in the early morning. New York breathed around the terminal. The stream of humanity was the city’s pulse, its very blood flow; warmth surged through the concourse.
When Ana shifted her gaze for a moment to that tide of people, she spoke calmly and gently.
“Please. To Jack.”
Amir’s smile fell when he met her look. He accepted Ana’s gaze and said,
“Do you remember the morning at the exhibition when we first met? That wasn’t an accident. I went there to kill you.”
Ana’s eyes went white. Life drained from her gaze; the surrounding clamor carried her away and it vanished. Then, softly, she said, why?
“If you disappear, Bombay Blood in America will be just Justin and me.”
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Across the nation television networks switched to breaking news. Anchors’ voices trembled as they searched for words; the screen held still images of the scene. Smartphone notifications chimed all at once, but what arrived felt less like words than an announcement of silence.
Social feeds filled in an instant; everyone stared at the frozen time on their screens.
“What is going on…?” Hands halted midreach as people watched the images. On distant street corners, in cafés, in offices, faces of people holding their breath were shown.
An old woman on a park bench gripped her bag; a mother with a child went speechless; a driver tightened his hands on the wheel. Silence took the city’s clamor, the suburbs’ stillness, the open fields of the countryside and wrapped them all together in a single deep breath.
Emergency responses began within government agencies. Phones rang; red alarms flashed on screens. A presidential aide lost words and the pen in his hand trembled. Hallways inside the White House fell quiet; only footsteps echoed.
Words could not be pinned down; fear and confusion spread like a chain. Emergency teams moved; experts began analysis. Reports, communications, camera footage — every piece of information crossed and re-crossed — yet the four had slipped through all eyes of surveillance.
Their silence left no record, but it scored a sure claw mark on the world’s timeline.
City, state, nation, the world — all inhaled together and froze in the same instant.
The four shadows completed their mission at the center of the world without being recognized, then dissolved as shadows into the curtain of night.
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My new novel:
B♭ (B-flat)
There’s still more to come. 😃
(This is not the final draft.)
Set in New York City.
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Soundtrack.
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack/pl.u-47...
For japanese
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack-for-jap...
Note: I gave a brief explanation of this novel in the following video:
youtu.be/3w65lqUF-YI?si=yG7qy6TPeCL9xRJV
iTunes Playlist Link::
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b/pl.u-47DJGhopxMD
For japanese
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack-for-jap...
My new novel:
B♭ (B-flat)
Notes
1. "Bombay Blood Type (hh type)"
•Characteristics: A rare blood type that lacks the usual ABO antigens — cannot be classified as A, B, or O.
•Discovery: First identified in 1952 in Mumbai, India (formerly Bombay).
•Prevalence: Roughly 1 in 10,000 people in India; globally, about 1 in 2.5 million.
•Transfusion Compatibility: Only compatible with blood from other Bombay type donors.
2. 2024 Harvard University Valedictorian Speech – The Power of Not Knowing
youtu.be/SOUH8iVqSOI?si=Ju-Y728irtcWR71K
3. Shots Fired at Trump Rally
youtu.be/1ejfAkzjEhk?si=ASqJwEmkY-2rW_hT
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Title:
旅行者。
僕の新しい小説
B♭ （ビーフラット） ……. Mitsushiro Nakagawa
“あらすじ”
北朝鮮の仮想通貨システムをハッキングし、数億ドルを奪取したガザ出身のパレスチナ人グループが、アメリカ合衆国へ密かに潜入する。
彼らの目的は、失われた祖国ガザを、アメリカの地に「復元」することだった。
共和党による強硬な移民政策と、国内にくすぶる排外感情を利用し、アメリカ社会を内側から崩壊させる計画が静かに進行していく。
共和党大統領候補ジャスティン・ブラッドフォードがマディソン・スクエア・ガーデンで演説中に狙撃され、ほぼ同時刻、ロサンゼルスでは前大統領オーウェン・リードもまた、民主党候補ライアン・ベネットの集会で撃たれる。
国家を二分する双方向の暗殺。だが、ジャスティンは奇跡的に生還する。
彼の血液型は、世界でわずか250万人に一人といわれる「ボンベイブラッド」。
その希少な血を提供できたのは、ブルックリンで活動するコミュニティアート・ファシリテーター、アナヤ・パテルだった。
彼女の血液はベルビュー病院の血液バンクに保存されており、緊急輸血によって、候補者の命はかろうじて繋がれた。
シークレットサービスのジャック・バンスは、テロの背後にガザ出身の組織が関与していることを察知し、FBIロサンゼルス支局長官キャメロン・バートレット、ニューヨーク支局の特別捜査官ヴェロニカ・リーブスと共に捜査を進める。
やがて彼らは、イスラム大学で建築学を学んだラフィ・ガンナムが、ロサンゼルスやニューヨークの再開発現場に潜入し、梁や構造体の中枢にC4爆薬を仕込んでいた事実に辿り着く。
標的は、ICE（移民・関税執行局）やERO（執行・送還作戦部門）の職員が暮らす新興住宅街——すなわち、「アメリカが築いた秩序」そのものだった。
ヴェロニカは、これ以上の破壊を防ぐため、大統領への対話を進言するが、現職のグラント・ランフォード大統領は耳を貸さない。
一方、命を取り留めたジャスティンと民主党候補ライアンは、テレビを通じて国民に訴えかけ、分断を乗り越えようとする。
だが、その理性の声を嘲笑うかのように、グラントはアイオワ州での演説を強行し、「テロには屈しない」と宣言する。
その会場には、すでにラフィの仲間が率いる工作チームが潜入していた。
崩壊する会場の惨状を前に、仲間の一人アミール・ナッセルは、かつてガザで妹を失った記憶に引き裂かれ、破壊の連鎖を止めようとする。
だが、ラフィの信念は揺るがない。
ウィリアムズバーグ橋の下、夕暮れの喧騒のなか、二人は決別する。
それは、祈りと報復、希望と虚無の境界線だった——。
“登場人物”
アナヤ・パテル ２５歳 コミュニティアート・ファシリテーター
アルジュン・シン ２６歳 アナヤの恋人・ルミナテック・イノベーションズ社
佐藤 ミカ ２５歳 アナの友人・コミュニティアート・ファシリテーター
ジャスティン・ブラッドフォード ２７歳 共和党大統領候補
エリノア・ブレイク ２６歳 ジャスティンの婚約者
グラント・M・ランフォード大統領 ６１歳 共和党大統領現職
チャールズ・ベインズ副大統領 ６４歳 共和党副大統領現職
ライアン・ベネット ３０歳 民主党大統領候補
ソフィア・ベネット ３０歳 ライアンの妻
オーウェン・リード ６５歳 民主党前大統領
ジャック・バンス ４５歳 シークレットサービス 元FBIロサンゼルス支局
ベン・ホロウェイ ３０歳 ジャックの同僚
ダリル・ロス ２９歳 ジャックの同僚
イライジャ・ケイン ２８歳 ジャックの同僚
マーカス・デイン ４５歳 FBI ロサンゼルス支局
キャメロン・バートレット ５５歳 FBI ロサンゼルス支局 支局長
トム・コールドウェル ３８歳 FBI技術班 マーカスの部下
ヴェロニカ・リーヴス ４１歳 FBI特別捜査官
アレクサンダー・ハリス ５２歳 FBI ニューヨーク支局 支局長
エリオット・チェン ３６歳 テクノロジー班主任
アリシア・モンロー ５８歳 FBI長官
ザカリア・ハッダード ５１歳 パレスチナ・ガザ地区 元イスラム大学 工学部教授 ニューヨークチーム
アミール・ナッセル ２３歳 パレスチナ・ガザ地区 元イスラム大学 電子工学部 ニューヨークチーム
ラフィ・ガンナム ３２歳 パレスチナ・ガザ地区 イスラム大学 建築学部 ニューヨークチーム
ロハン・シャー ２９歳 パレスチナ・ガザ地区 イスラム大学 建築学部 ニューヨークチーム
マジード・ハムザ ４７歳 パレスチナ・ガザ地区 パレスチナ大学 情報技術学部 ロサンゼルスチーム
サミラ・ハンマド ２８歳 パレスチナ・ガザ地区 パレスチナ大学 工学部 ロサンゼルスチーム
サイード・カバリ ３５歳 パレスチナ・ガザ地区 パレスチナ大学 経営学部 ロサンゼルスチーム
リーム・ナセル ３０歳 パレスチナ・ガザ地区 パレスチナ大学 メディア学部 ロサンゼルスチーム
ノア・レヴィ 55歳 イスラエル テルアビブ在住 ユダヤ人
僕のこの小説は、来年、２０２６年２月末日に公開します。
先日、リドリースコット監督がサブスクの映画やドラマ群がつまらないと話していたようだけど、同感です。
僕も非常に退屈です。
それらに2時間を要するなら、僕の小説を２分間だけ読んで欲しい。
その2分間は、２時間を越えるでしょう。
僕は自信があります。
ぜひ、期待してお待ちください。
Mitsushiro Nakagawa
09th. Oct . 2025.
追伸
ネトフリに挑戦する男、みっちゃん。😃
マンハッタン。ニューヨーク。アメリカ。2017. … 2 / 10
(今日の写真。それは未発表済みです。しかし最近、オリジナルから再編集しています。）
Images.
Taylor Swift … This Love ( 和訳 )
youtu.be/PfJzQuqWSSE?si=TrtL4Mb-uN2dNmML
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僕の新しい小説。
B♭ （ビーフラット）
第20弾。 😄
以下は、まだ初稿の段階です。まだ推敲します。
公開している内容の順番はバラバラです。
今回で部分的な公開を最後にします。
２０２６年２月２８日。
その日にすべてを公開します。
期待して待っていてください。😃
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僕の新しい小説。
B♭ （ビーフラット）
「ジャック、スマホのメッセージを見ろ。またメッセージが飛び込んでいる。IPアドレスは、グランドセントラルターミナルのそばにあるニューヨーク公共図書館の分館、スタヴロス・ニアルコス財団経由だ」
ベンからのフェイスタイムだった。ガーデンのすぐそば、NYPDのミッドタウン南分署に設置された対策室で待機しているベンからだ。ベンの声はこれだけの事件が起きているにも関わらず、冷静だった。
ジャックはアイフォンに指を滑らせ、表示された短い文を確かめた。文字列は無造作に並んでいたが文の輪郭を整えているように見えた。
― グランドセントラルの地下コンコースにアーチ形の天井がある。そこへ来い。ジャック・バンス。言うまでもないがひとりでだぞ、と言っても一人ではないと思うがな ―
メッセージは、ジャックの胸の内を強く叩いた。
車はヴァンダービルト・アヴェニューを北へ抜け、グランドセントラルの南端に差しかかった。街はまだ朝を迎えきれず、ビルの谷間に籠もった湿気が金属の匂いを帯びていた。
ジャックはアクセルを抜き、黒いSUVを滑らせるように歩道ぎりぎりへ寄せた。タイヤが縁石をかすめる瞬間、路面に残る雨粒が光の筋となって跳ねた。
ジャックは重いドアを押し開き、足を落とした。靴音が一拍遅れて石畳に響いた。
彼は一度だけ背後の通りを見やると、赤いサイレンの反射がショーウィンドウの奥をよぎり、通りの影に沈む通行人の顔を、刹那だけ白く照らした。
その光の切れ目を縫うように、ジャックは地下コンコースへ降りる階段へと向かった。
通用扉は重く、金属の軋みがわずかに響いた。構内には地下鉄の呼吸のような低い唸りが満ちていた。
冷気が頬を打ち、空調ダクトの奥から、遠くの構内放送が滲んで聞こえくる。
額の汗を拭ったジャックはグランドセントラルの階段を一段飛ばしに駆け降りた。照明の琥珀色が靴底に流れ、ターミナルの心臓の鼓動のように足音が連なった。
鉄の手すりは冷たく、指先に浅い震えを伝えた。階段の奥からは人の足音が複層的に重なり、地下へと導く古いリズムを刻んでいる。アーチ型の天井は空気を柔らかに吸い込み、照明は薄く膜のように光を張っている。
地下コンコースの空気は湿り、古い煉瓦の壁は過去の雨を忘れられずに微かに匂っているようだ。床のタイルは長年の踏み跡で曇り、ところどころにひびが走って、そこへ街の小さな記憶が溜まっている。
ジャックはそれらを意識せずに歩を進めた。彼の視線は、通路の奥にある暗がりへと自然に吸い寄せられていた。そこにはいつもと同じ出勤途中の人たちが早足で過ぎていく。
壁際に並ぶ古びた看板や掲示板は、折れたチラシを枕にして眠るように貼り付いている。清掃員が一つの帯のようにモップを引き、その先でベンチが一つ、淡い孤独を描くように置かれている。
通路を流れる空気は、まるで都市の静脈のゆっくりした鼓動だとジャックは思った。自分の呼吸が、その鼓動と同じ拍に馴染むのを感じながら、歩みを進めた。
足元のタイルに光が差し、影がゆらりと伸びた。エスカレーターの金属音が遠くで微かに鳴り、階段から吹き下りる風がジャックの体にこもった熱を冷ました。街の匂いと、地下の湿り気と、古い電灯の微熱が入り混じって、時間はゆっくりと溶けてゆく。
歩を止めたジャックは掌をこすり、周囲に視線を散らした。耳に入る雑踏は、独特の反響を帯びて方向感覚を曖昧にする。彼はただ、どこかにいる「それ」を捜しているのだと自分に言い聞かせる。
再び歩き出した瞬間、金属が擦れる高音が辺りの空気を裂いた。一瞬、彼の頸筋が弾かれ、足元に微かな緊張が走った。反射的に足を止めると、視界の端で受話器が小さく揺れていた。
コードは年月の重みでねじれ、埃まみれの金属部分が鈍く光っている。誰も使わないはずの電話が、唐突に、祭りの鐘のように鳴った。都市の静寂に差し込む異音。音は低く、しかし確実に空気を震わせた。
ジャックはゆっくりと視線をそれに向けた。地下の重い空気が一瞬、膝の裏を押すように沈む。耳に届くのは自分の呼吸と、受話器の小さな振動音だけだ。周囲の人々は何事もないように通り過ぎ、母親が幼児の手を引き、老いた男が新聞を折りたたんで小脇に抱え直し、去ってゆく。
受話器はジャックを呼んでいた。沈黙の裂け目からの呼び声は、まるで古い地図の裏側で震えるインクのように、じわりと広がる。ジャックは無言で手を伸ばし、受話器を取り上げた。金属は冷たく、その冷たさが掌に現実を落とした。
「……ジャック」
声は低く、だがはっきりしていた。耳に残る音色に、時間が少しだけ逆戻りする気配があった。ネットの映像で見知った声の輪郭。しかしテレビで聞いたときとは異なり、そこには刃ではなく遠い夕焼けのような色度が含まれているようだった。
ジャックは受話器越しに、通路の端の人影や、ベンチの孤独、床に落ちた小さな紙片──それらが会話の合間に流れ込むのを感じた。声音は会話の窓に、街の細部を滑り込ませるものだ。
「どうした、アミール。覇気のない声だな」
ジャックの声は静かだが、地面に落ちる石のように重みを持っていた。受話器の向こうで、アミールがすこし鼻で笑うのが聞こえた。
「ときどきは落ち込むこともあるさ、人間だからね」
その声は穏やかで、かつ遠い。以前に見せた公の顔とは違い、こちらは影の中で磨かれたものだった。通話の間、隣を通り過ぎる親子の会話がスナップのように割り込み、また消えていった。
「ジャック、これから言うことをよく聴け。ま、録音はしてるだろうけどな」
「それはお互い様だろ」
受話器の向こうで、アミールの言葉は滑らかに落ち、地下のタイルに小さな波紋を作るようだった。周囲の雑音が一度だけ音像を濁らせ、また整頓される。母親の靴音、清掃員のモップの擦れる音、遠くの自販機の冷える音──それらが会話のリズムに交差してゆく。
「俺はこのチームから降りた。理由は、もう多くの人間が死ぬのを見たくないからだ。それだけだ」
ジャックの指先が受話器の脈動を確かめた。声は冷静を装うが、その奥に震えがあるのを彼は聴き取った。地下の照明の輪郭が、アミールの言葉ごとにわずかに滲む。
「それを信じろって言うのか？ お前らの教授、ザカリアはそんな弱音を吐くなって言ってるぞ、せっかく盛大に死んだのに」
アミールはしばらく黙り、何かを笑い飛ばすような吐息を漏らした。通路の端でキャンディを舐める子供の小さな舌音が、言葉の間を埋めた。
「で、どうしたんだ？ 失恋でもしたのか？」
「そんなところだ。この起爆装置は、これからも多くの建物を破壊する」
その一言が、受話器の内の小さな部屋を突き破った。ジャックは一瞬だけ、地下の光が薄く濁るのを見た。だが通路は相変わらず普段どおりで、誰も振り返らない。異変は音の中にしか存在しない。
「どこにどれくらいセットし、どんな仕掛けなんだ、正確に、手短に話せ。つまらないジョークは混ぜるな」
ジャックの口調は掴みかけた氷のように冷たい。受話器の向こうでアミールは静かに説明を試みるが、ジャックは言葉の細部よりもその声が持つ重さに耳を澄ます。通話の合間、壁際の電話ボックスの影が長く伸び、床に細い黒い溝を引いた。
「俺たちは、一般人で訓練されたテロリストではない。しかし、渡された情報は各個人へ分散されていた。たとえば今、俺がこうしてあんたに電話しているように裏切りが生まれた時のことを考えてね」
アミールの声は慎重で、しかし怯えはない。ジャックは受話器を耳にしっかり押し当て、周囲の生活音がそのまま説明の布地となって織り込まれていくのを感じていた。通路の端で老女がバッグを直す音、遠くでシャッターが開く小さな仕事のはじまりの合図が聞こえた。
「俺たちが潜入したのは、今から５年ほど前だ。その頃に建てられていた建造物の中枢にC4を仕掛けた。ラフィは大学で建築学を学んでいたからね。崩壊する様子はもうネットでも１００万回再生だからわかってるだろう。起爆させるためには、ミュートリーダーというQRコードを読み取る昔の携帯電話が必要だ。それとペアで独自に俺がつくったタブレットもだ。このタブレットのバッテリー部分、3分の２にC4を埋め込んだ。このタブレットも大昔にあった指紋認証式のタブレットだ。俺が作ったタブレットは2台だ。それがロサンゼルスとニューヨークに分かれて存在している」
「つまり、起爆装置は2台か？」
「わからない。俺の他にも電子工学部の人間がいたからな。それからQRコードを読み取る携帯電話は大昔、あまりに特殊すぎて売れずに浸透しなかった機器だ」
「どういう流れで起爆させるんだ？」
「あるサイトに特殊なQRコードが設置されているらしい。そこに携帯電話をかざして読み込む。QRコードは３Dレイヤーだ。コードが立体的に浮かび上がって解読し、起爆させるコードへ変換させ、電波で飛ばす」
「電波？ Wi-Fiではなくか？」
「Wi-Fiだったら、あんたらすぐに止められるだろ？ そこは俺がタブレットを改造した。Wi-FiではなくFM電波だ、パイレーツラジオ（海賊ラジオ）と同じ仕組みだ」
「ならば、周波数を駆逐できるぞ」
アミールはしばらく笑ってからいった。
「周波数はいくらでも変えられるようにアプリを設定した。ちなみに周波数を妨害しようと発せられた電波も起爆するようセットした。つまり、いずれにしても、ドカンだ」
ジャックは、しばらく沈黙してから続けた。
「QRコードは、どこのサイトにあるんだ？」
「わからない。すべての過程で分散している。ハードの製造、QRコードの場所、起爆させる操作。流れを散らすことで、裏切りを抑止しているようだった」
ふたりの間に再び沈黙が落ちた。アミールは、足元に落とした視線を引き上げて、いった。
「ジャック、ここまで話しているんだから、知っていたら話しているさ。つまり、ミュートリーダーを手にしている人間にしかわからない。今で言うなら ….」
「ラフィだけ、か」
「そのとおりだ」
二人の間に沈黙が落ち、通話は薄い氷の上で揺れている。ジャックの呼吸がゆっくりと現実を取り戻した。地下の光は細く、しかししっかりと彼を照らしている。
「アミール、どうして話す？」
「さっきもいったとおりだ。人の死にはうんざりだ」
「お前がこうして喋ることがわかっているのに、ラフィはお前を無傷で解放したのか？ この話を信じるにはうますぎないか？」
「確かに。俺が適当なことをいって、あんたらをカモるかもね」
「ジャック、お疲れ様、アミール、その場を動かないで」
ヴェロニカの落ち着いた声が二人の通話に割り込んだ。
「ジャック、実物はなかなかの男前だな」
そういったアミールは、ちょうどジャックのいる壁面の反対側で受話器を手にしていた。
受話器越しの冗談は、地下の湿った空気を幾分、乾かせた。彼らは同じ空間の別々の面を指でなぞっているようだ。
ジャックは受話器を握りなおし、静かに頷いた。その頷きは、街の鼓動に合わせた小さな合図のようでもあり、また終わりのない季節の一端を告げるものでもあった。通路の光がゆるやかに流れ、影が折り重なり、会話は地下のタイルにゆっくりと染み渡っていった。
ジャックは、ゆっくり辺りを見渡した。元々、グランドセントラルターミナルをテロから守る為に、日常的に警護していたNYPDが出入り口に構えている。非常事態の現在、ヴェロニカの指示で一斉にアミールを射程内に捕らえていた。ピカティニーレールを持ったM4カービンの赤とグリーンのレーザーサイトがアミールの両足に張り付いていた。おそらく、赤はターミナルのNYPDで、グリーンがヴェロニカのチームだろう。二つの班がアミールの動きを封じようと照準を定めていた。もちろん、照準はアミールの額にはない。
突然、ジャックの受話器の向こうから頬を叩く音が響いた。
「アミール、あなたは何者なの？」
その声はアナだった。
アミールは一瞬目を丸くしたが、すぐに自分を取り戻した。
「ジャック、つけられてたのか？ ミス・パテル。君こそ何者なんだ？ ジャックの邪魔をしているよ」
彼はそういって親指を逆さにし、自分の足を示した。そこには、赤とグリーンのレーザーサイトが静かに張り付いていた。アナはアミールに詰め寄ると言い放った。
「いっしょに出頭して」
その言葉にジャックは付け足した。
「とりあえず捕まれ。詳しい話は、ヴェロニカといっしょに聞いてやる」
ヴェロニカは足さなかったが、おそらく頷いているだろうと思いながら、ジャックは受話器を持ち替えた。
アミールは一笑した。
「言うまでもないが、はい、わかりましたというなら、ここで対話してないよな。ほら、列車がたくさん到着したぞ、照準に気をつけな」
早朝のターミナルに、人が溢れ出した。ターミナルを中心にニューヨークは呼吸している。人の流れは、都市の脈動であり、血流そのものだ。コンコースには人の熱気が溢れ出していた。
溢れた人の流れに一瞬目を移すと、アナは冷静に、そして穏やかな眼差しでいった。
「おねがい。ジャックのところへ」
アミールも同じように笑みを消すと、アナの視線を受け入れ、いった。
「君に初めて会った展示の朝を覚えているかい？ あれは偶然じゃない。僕は君を殺しに行ったんだ」
アナの視線が白くなった。眼差しからは生気が失せ、周囲の喧騒に流され、消えていった。そして、どうして？ と小さく言葉を落とした。
「君が消えれば、アメリカでボンベイブラッドは、ジャスティンと僕だけだ」
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全国のテレビ局が緊急報道に切り替わった。
キャスターの声は震え、言葉を探す間、画面には会場の静止した映像が映った。スマートフォンの通知が一斉に鳴り、しかし、届くのは言葉ではなく、静寂の報せのように感じられた。
SNSのタイムラインは瞬く間に情報で埋まり、誰もが画面の中で止まった時間を見つめていた。
「どういうことだ…？」画面を見つめる手が、思わず止まる。
画面の向こう、遠くの街角でも、カフェでも、オフィスでも、息を呑む人々の姿が映る。
公園のベンチに座る老女は、手にしたバッグを握りしめ、子供を抱く母親は言葉を失い、運転中の男性はハンドルを握る手に力を込めた。
沈黙は、都市の喧騒、郊外の静けさ、田舎の広野を一斉に包み込み、世界を一つの深い呼吸に束ねた。
政府機関では緊急対応が始まっていた。電話が鳴り、スクリーンに赤い警報が灯っている。大統領補佐官は言葉を失い、ペンを握る手が微かに震えている。ホワイトハウス内の廊下は、普段の喧騒を消し、足音だけが響いた。
誰も正確に理解できないまま、言葉は混乱と恐怖の連鎖として広がっていく。政府内の応急対応が動き、専門家たちが分析を開始する。報告書、通信、カメラ映像、あらゆる情報が交錯するが、四人の存在は、すべての監視の目をすり抜けていた。
四人の沈黙は、記録に残らず、しかし世界の時間軸に確実な爪痕を刻んだのだ。
都市、州、国家、世界 — すべてが一瞬にして同じ呼吸をし、同じ時間の中で凍りついた。
四人の影は、誰にも認識されることなく、世界の中心でその使命を終え、影のまま、夜の帳の中に溶け込んでいった。
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僕の新しい小説。
B♭ （ビーフラット）
舞台はニューヨークです。
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Soundtrack.
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack/pl.u-47...
For japanese
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack-for-jap...
iTunes Playlist Link::
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b/pl.u-47DJGhopxMD
For japanese
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack-for-jap...
追記 この小説を多少説明しました。
youtu.be/3w65lqUF-YI?si=yG7qy6TPeCL9xRJV
メモ
1
「Bombay型（ボンベイ型、hh型）」
•特徴：通常のABO血液型を持たない（A、B、Oに分類されない）特殊な型。
•発見地：1952年、インド・ムンバイ（旧ボンベイ）で初めて確認。
•発生頻度：インドでは1万人に1人程度だが、世界的には約250万人に1人とも。
•輸血制限：同じBombay型しか輸血できない。
2
2024年ハーバード大学首席の卒業式スピーチ『知らないことの力』
youtu.be/SOUH8iVqSOI?si=Ju-Y728irtcWR71K
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Shots fired at Trump rally
youtu.be/1ejfAkzjEhk?si=ASqJwEmkY-2rW_hT
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I captured 17 shots of lightning striking the World Trade Center in this intense storm. There were more strikes that I couldn't capture because I had to clean the water drops off the front of the lens.
I decided to group-together and post simultaneously all of the Amsterdam bicycle shots, just to “get it out of my system”. #849 thru #855 were all shot at the bicycle parking area at Amsterdam Centraal (The Central Station). The rest, #856 thru #861, were shot around the city at various locations. #862 was shot at a village outside of Amsterdam, Marken.
(From Wikipedia, edited):
Amsterdam is known as one of the most bicycle-friendly cities in the world and is a center of bicycle culture. Thirty-eight percent (38%) of all journeys in the city are made by bicycle. Most main streets have bike paths. Bike racks are ubiquitous throughout the city. In 2006, there were about 1,000,000 bicycles in the city. Each year, about 100,000 of them are stolen and 25,000 end up in the canals.
As is common in Dutch cities, Amsterdam has a wide net of traffic-calmed streets and world-class facilities for cyclists. All around are bike paths and bike racks, and several guarded bicycle parking stations (Fietsenstalling) which can be used for a nominal fee.
Bicycles are used by all socio-economic groups because: they are quick and convenient from point A to point B and due to Amsterdam's small size. There are 400 km of bike paths. The flat terrain is certainly a factor, as is the arguable inconvenience of driving an automobile. Driving a car is discouraged, parking fees are expensive, and many streets are closed to cars or are one-way. Amsterdam's bike paths (Fietspad) are colored brown, in order to differentiate it from a footpath.
Amsterdammers ride a wide variety of bicycles including the traditional Omafiets - the ubiquitous Dutch roadster with a step-through frame - to anything from modern city bikes, road bikes, mountain bikes, and even recumbent bikes.
Located at the corner of Rothschild Boulevard in Tel Aviv city centre, 44 Balfour Street constructed in 1926 and designed in the Eclectic Style by architect Moshe Cherner, for the Shevach-Raizel Ashkenazi family, originally resident in Jerusalem.
The architectural style of the building combines European with local-oriental elements which together create a unique local Eclectic Style. A unique architectural feature of the building is the inscription of the year of construction according to the Hebrew calendar 5686 (1926) at the pinnacle of the façade of the stairwell facing Balfour Street (this is in a straight vertical from the cyclist’s shoulder in this shot). From the time of the initial occupation, some of the apartments in the building were used for various businesses. Over the years, renowned rabbis, such as Knesset Member, Rabbi Benjamin Mintz (who served as Postal Minister) and Rabbi Eshlag, lived in the building simultaneously with a number of secular families. Conservation work was carried out between 2007-2008 by White City Building Company, Bar Orian Architects, and Nira Reichman Architects. (This information has been gleaned from the street plaque outside.)
Rothschild Boulevard (שדרות רוטשילד, Sderot Rothschild) is a handsome street in Central Tel Aviv; indeed one the most well-known and important of Tel Aviv's boulevards. boulevard was and still is a cultural center of Tel Aviv, and is part of the economic heart of Israel.
Many historical events have taken place here, including the declaration of the State of Israel. Since the 1990s, the boulevard has been undergoing a process in which low buildings are replaced by towers used for residences and offices, while preserving some of the old buildings, in particular those of the eclectic and Bauhaus style
This description contains information translated from the Hebrew Wikipedia and the Golden Lotus website.
A series of layered, "surrealist" pieces, part of my "Process Art" work, this time done in black and white. Why should powerful and unusual pieces always be in vivid colours? I wanted to try my hand at B&W surrealism as a way to expand my vocabulary - and hopefully come up with something effective.
View Large on Black.
A year ago ( well more), two individuals simultaneously set out on a journey, a conquest to chronicle their every day by collecting light. Many miles separated them, in fact they were on other ends of the country but this mission and the platform they used to share it introduced and kept them together. And although their age old quest is coming to a close, their bond is unbreakable and the magic has just begun.
haha so im being really cheesy sorry but not really. we had a blast at Alex and Karrah's Flickr Gathering and this is one of the many shots that was composed by one of the creative minds present at the event. Concept credit: Mia
facebook / formspring / tumblr
Woman simultaneously front and backlit from reflections while walking at the train station early in the morning.
Bath Abbey churchyard this morning.
Participants breaking the world record for simultaneous waltzing.
SOOC
These two orbs were done simultaneously. The inner orb is with leds and the outer one is with fire.
So many different tasks in progress simultaneously whilst up on stilts to make RML 2407 as accessible as possible. 16 October 1983.
This cozy inn on the outskirts of Lond Daer is known by it's specially brewed blue wines. The Numenorian soldiers especially enjoy this wine after a hard day's work partroling the borders of this middle Earth city. Now war is imminent they'll never know if this is their last..
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So when I started building Lond Daer early 2019 for the @secondagecollab I wanted to do my first interior ever. I haven't done any interiors before, so it was about time 😅
The interior was completed simultaneously with the rest of the build but wasn't clearly visible. So before Lond Daer was completely torn apart I had to redesign a section of the house to make the interior visible and take some beauty shots.
I hope you'll like what you see and I'll get back to work on my Venice Italy moc 😊
#lego #legos #legointerior #moc #afol #lotr #middlearth #gondor #londdaer #SecondAgeCollab @secondagecollab #toy #toys #legoart #legocreator #barthezz #brick #barthezzbrick #legolotr #legomiddleearth
a simultaneous multi-sensorial multi-dimensional pan dream deja vu for eyes and demons and dogs and involutions of leaves and faces and blue veins and grey outlines for plumbers, pipe-fitters and fire and light water children and lost animals helping those on crutches.
Title:
Silence.
B♭ (B Flat)
A Novel by Mitsushiro Nakagawa
日本語のあらすじ等は下の方にあります😃
一部分の公開を更新しました。今回が最後です😃
“Synopsis”
A Palestinian group from Gaza hacks into North Korea’s cryptocurrency system, stealing hundreds of millions of dollars. Their true goal is not money—but to recreate the lost homeland of Gaza on American soil.
Amid the backdrop of hardline Republican immigration policies and a growing wave of xenophobia, a quiet plan begins to take shape: the gradual collapse of America from within.
During a speech at Madison Square Garden, Republican presidential candidate Justin Bradford is shot. Almost simultaneously in Los Angeles, former president Owen Reed is attacked at a rally for Democratic hopeful Ryan Bennett.
Two assassinations—mirroring one another—ignite a nation’s deepest divide. Yet, against all odds, Justin survives. His blood type is one in 2.5 million: the Bombay Blood Group.
The only person who can donate such blood is Anaya Patel, a community art facilitator working in Brooklyn. Her blood, stored in the Bellevue Hospital Blood Bank, is used for an emergency transfusion that saves the candidate’s life.
Jack Vance, an agent of the U.S. Secret Service, suspects a Gaza-based network behind the attacks. Together with Cameron Bartlett, the FBI Director of the Los Angeles Field Office, and Veronica Reeves, a senior investigator from New York, he begins to uncover a vast conspiracy.
Their investigation leads them to Rafi Gannam, a former architecture student at the Islamic University of Gaza, who has infiltrated redevelopment sites across Los Angeles and New York—embedding C4 explosives deep within beams and structural cores.
His targets: new residential districts where agents of ICE (Immigration and Customs Enforcement) and ERO (Enforcement and Removal Operations) live—symbols of “the order America built.”
Veronica urges the President to pursue dialogue to prevent further destruction, but President Grant M. Ranford refuses to listen.
Meanwhile, the recovering Justin and his Democratic rival Ryan appear on national television, calling for unity beyond political divisions.
Their words of reason, however, are drowned out when Grant takes the stage in Iowa, defiantly declaring: “We will never bow to terror.”
Among the crowd, Rafi’s operatives have already taken their positions.
As chaos erupts and the stage collapses, Amir Nasser—once Rafi’s comrade, haunted by the memory of his sister’s death in Gaza—tries desperately to halt the chain of destruction.
But Rafi’s conviction remains unshaken.
Under the twilight beneath the Williamsburg Bridge, amid the city’s fading noise, the two men part ways.
It is the boundary between prayer and vengeance, between hope and nothingness.
“Characters”
Anaya Patel – 25, Community Art Facilitator
Arjun Singh – 26, Anaya’s boyfriend, Luminatech Innovations
Mika Sato – 25, Anaya’s friend, Community Art Facilitator
Justin Bradford – 27, Republican Presidential Candidate
Eleanor Blake – 26, Justin’s fiancée
President Grant M. Langford – 61, Incumbent Republican President
Vice President Charles “Chuck” Baines – 64, Incumbent Republican Vice President
Ryan Bennett – 30, Democratic Presidential Candidate
Sophia Bennett – 30, Ryan’s wife
Owen Reed – 65, Former Democratic President
Jack Vance – 45, Secret Service, Former FBI Los Angeles Field Office
Ben Holloway – 30, Jack’s colleague
Darryl Ross – 29, Jack’s colleague
Elijah Kane – 28, Jack’s colleague
Marcus Dane – 45, FBI Los Angeles Field Office
Cameron Bartlett – 55, FBI Los Angeles Field Office, Field Office Director
Tom Caldwell – 38, FBI Technical Unit, Marcus’s subordinate
Veronica Reeves – 41, FBI Special Agent
Alexander Harris – 52, FBI New York Field Office, Field Office Director
Elliot Chen – 36, Technology Unit Chief
Alicia Monroe – 58, FBI Director
Zakaria Haddad – 51, Gaza Strip, Palestine; Former Islamic University Engineering Professor, New York Team
Amir Nasser – 23, Gaza Strip, Palestine; Former Islamic University Electronics Engineering, New York Team
Rafi Gannam – 32, Gaza Strip, Palestine; Islamic University, Architecture, New York Team
Rohan Shah – 29, Gaza Strip, Palestine; Islamic University, Architecture, New York Team
Majid Hamza – 47, Gaza Strip, Palestine; University of Palestine, Information Technology, Los Angeles Team
Samira Hammad – 28, Gaza Strip, Palestine; University of Palestine, Engineering, Los Angeles Team
Saeed Kabari – 35, Gaza Strip, Palestine; University of Palestine, Business Administration, Los Angeles Team
Reem Nasser – 30, Gaza Strip, Palestine; University of Palestine, Media Studies, Los Angeles Team
Noah Levi – 55, Israel, residing in Tel Aviv, Jewish
B♭ will be released worldwide on February 29, 2026.
Recently, director Ridley Scott remarked that streaming films and series have become dull.
I agree.
If you have two hours to spare for such stories, I ask for only two minutes of your time.
Two minutes with my novel will outlast those two hours.
I am confident of that.
Stay tuned.
Mitsushiro
October 9th, 2025
P.S.
Micchan — the man who challenges Netflix. 😃
( iPhone 13 Pro shot )
Motosuka Beach. Kujukuri Beach. Sanmu City. Chiba Prefecture. Japan. October 9, 2025. … 0.9 / 10
(Photo of the day. Unpublished.)
Images.
Taylor Swift … This Love
youtu.be/PfJzQuqWSSE?si=TrtL4Mb-uN2dNmML
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🌟 My New Novel: "B♭" (B Flat)
This is the 20th installment! 😄
The following is still in the first draft stage. I will revise it further.
•The order of the content being shared is random.
•This will be the final time I share partial excerpts.
The full novel will be released on February 28, 2026.
Please look forward to it! 😃
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My new novel
B♭ (B Flat)
English translation by GPT-5, in collaboration with Mitsushiro Nakagawa
“Jack, look at your phone. Another message just came through. The IP address traces to a branch of the New York Public Library near Grand Central — via the Stavros Niarchos Foundation.”
It was a FaceTime from Ben. He was standing by in the NYPD Midtown South command post just beside the Garden. Despite everything that was happening, Ben’s voice was calm.
Jack slid his finger across his iPhone and read the short line that appeared. The characters lay down carelessly, yet somehow they gave the sentence a shape.
— There’s an arched ceiling in the underground concourse of Grand Central. Come there. Jack Vance. And don’t come alone — though, of course, you won’t be alone. —
The message struck at the inside of Jack’s chest like a ringing.
The car threaded north along Vanderbilt Avenue and came up at the southern lip of Grand Central. The city had not quite woken; the damp that hid in the canyon between buildings carried the metallic smell of morning. Jack let off the gas and eased the black SUV to the curb, almost sliding it along. As the tires brushed the edge of the pavement, the remaining beads of rain on the road leapt up into streaks of light.
He pushed open the heavy door and stepped out. His shoes hit the cobbles a beat later. Once he turned to look down the street behind him, the red reflection of a siren flashed through a shop window and briefly lit the faces of passersby, whitening them for a single instant.
Weaving through that cut of light, Jack made for the stairs that led down to the concourse. The service door groaned with a slight metallic protest. Inside, a low hum, like the breathing of a subway, filled the space. A cold breath struck his cheeks, and from the depths of the HVAC ducts a distant station announcement blurred toward him.
Wiping the sweat from his brow, Jack took the stairs of Grand Central two at a time. The amber lighting flowed across his soles; his footsteps linked together like the heartbeat of the terminal.
The iron handrail was cold, passing a faint tremor into his fingertips. From far down the stairs other footsteps layered over one another, keeping an old rhythm that led downward. The arched ceiling drew the air in gently; the lights spread a thin film of glow.
The concourse smelled of damp; the old brick walls seemed unable to forget past rains and exhaled them faintly. The floor tiles were dulled by years of feet; hairline cracks ran through them, where little memories of the city had gathered. Jack walked without attending to these things. His gaze was naturally drawn to the darkness at the far end of the corridor. The usual stream of commuters hurried past.
Weathered signs and bulletin boards clung to the walls like pillows for torn flyers. A cleaner dragged her mop in a single ribbon; beyond it, a lone bench sat as if sketching a pale loneliness.
The air that moved through the passage felt to Jack like the slow pulse of a city’s vein. He felt his breath fall into the same beat and kept walking.
Light touched the tiles at his feet and shadows stretched and swayed. The faint metallic noise of an escalator sounded somewhere far away; the gust from the stairs cooled the heat that had gathered in his body. The scent of the city, the underground damp, and the faint warmth of old lamps mixed; time began to melt slowly.
Stopping, Jack rubbed his palms and let his eyes roam. The hum all around carried a peculiar echo that blurred one’s sense of direction. He told himself he was only looking for “it,” somewhere in the concourse.
As he moved again, a high metallic scrape suddenly sliced the air. His neck muscles twitched and a tautness ran through the soles of his feet. Reflexively he froze; at the edge of his vision a receiver quivered.
Its cord, knotted with the weight of years, twisted; dusty metal glinted dully. A telephone that should have been unused rang out abruptly, like a festival bell — an alien note within the city’s hush. The sound was low but it made the air itself tremble.
Jack turned to it slowly. The heavy underground air seemed to press against the backs of his knees. All he heard was his own breathing and the faint vibration of the receiver. People flowed past as if nothing had happened: a mother led a child by the hand, an old man refolded his newspaper and tucked it under his arm, and moved on.
The receiver was calling to Jack. The call came from a tear in silence, spreading slowly like ink trembling on the reverse side of an old map. He reached out without speaking and picked up the handset. The metal was cold; that cold dropped reality onto his palm.
“…Jack.”
The voice was low but distinct. Its timbre made time seem to slip backward just a touch. He recognized the voice from online footage; yet unlike the voice heard on television, here it carried not a blade but the color of a distant sunset.
Through the receiver Jack felt the corridor’s edges, the bench’s solitude, the small scrap of paper on the floor trickle into the pauses of the conversation. The voice let the city’s details slide in through the window of speech.
“What’s up, Amir? Sounding a little low.” Jack’s voice was quiet and heavy, like a stone dropped to ground. Through the handset he heard Amir’s small nasal laugh.
“Sometimes you get down — you’re only human.”
The voice was calm and remote. It was not the public mask Amir sometimes wore, but something honed in shadow. During the call the brief chatter of a passing parent and child snapped into the line and then was gone.
“Listen carefully to what I’m going to say. Well, you’re probably recording.”
“Likewise,” Jack replied.
Amir’s words fell smoothly through the receiver, making tiny ripples on the tiled floor of the underground. The noise around them blurred once and then resolved again: the mother’s footsteps, the mop’s scrape, the distant clink of a vending machine — all intersecting with the rhythm of speech.
“I’m out of the team. The reason? I don’t want to watch more people die. That’s it.”
Jack felt the receiver’s pulse under his fingers. The voice tried on calm but Jack could hear a tremor beneath. The lights in the concourse blurred slightly with each of Amir’s sentences.
“Are you asking me to believe that? Your professor Zakaria says don’t talk like that — he went out in a big way.” Amir fell silent and let out an exhale that sounded like a laugh as if to shrug something off. At the corridor’s edge a child sucking on candy made a tiny wet sound that filled the space between words.
“So what now? Heartbroken?” Jack asked.
“Something like that. This detonator will destroy many buildings yet.”
That phrase punched through the little room inside the receiver. For an instant the light underground clouded faintly. Yet the corridor moved on as always; no one turned. The anomaly existed only in sound.
“Tell me exactly where, how many, what mechanism — brief. Don’t mix in jokes.” Jack’s tone chilled like ice cracking. Amir tried to explain calmly, but Jack listened more to the weight behind the words than to their particulars. In the pauses, the phone booth’s shadow stretched and traced a thin black groove across the floor.
“We weren’t trained terrorists, not professionals. The information was distributed piece by piece. Think of how betrayal would happen — like how I can call you now.” Amir’s voice was careful; not fearful. Jack pressed the receiver to his ear and felt the city’s everyday noises woven into the fabric of the explanation. An old woman adjusting her bag at the corridor’s edge, the faint opening of a shutter somewhere distant — the beginnings of small workdays.
“We infiltrated about five years ago. We planted C4 in the core of buildings that were being built then. Rafi studied architecture, so he knew where to place it. You’ve seen the collapse a million times online, you know how it looks. To detonate, you need an old phone that reads a ‘mute reader’ QR code. Along with it is a tablet I made myself. I embedded C4 into two-thirds of its battery. The tablet has old fingerprint authentication — the kind from a long time ago. I made two of them. One is in Los Angeles, one in New York.”
“So there are two detonators?”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t the only one from the electronics department. Also, the phones that read the QR code are ancient, too specialized — they never caught on.”
“How do you trigger it?”
“There’s a special QR code placed on a site. You hold the phone up and read it. The QR is a 3D layer. The code rises in relief, deciphers itself, converts into a detonation code, and sends it by radio.”
“Radio? Not Wi‑Fi?”
“If it were Wi‑Fi you’d shut it down quickly. I modified the tablet. It’s not Wi‑Fi — it uses FM radio, like pirate radio.”
“We can jam the frequency.”
Amir laughed for a long moment before speaking.
“I set the app so the frequency can be changed arbitrarily. I also set it so that any signal sent to jam the frequency triggers the detonation. So either way, boom.”
Jack was silent for a little while, then asked,
“Where is the QR code located?”
“I don’t know. Everything was compartmentalized. Hardware production, QR placement, activation method. By scattering the flow, it seemed designed to deter betrayal.”
Silence fell again between them. Amir lifted his eyes from the ground and said,
“Jack, I’d tell you if I knew. Only those holding a mute reader would know. Today, that’s…”
“Just Rafi?”
“That’s right.”
Silence spread between them. The call hovered like thin ice. Jack’s breathing returned slowly to the present. The underground light was narrow but it marked him clearly.
“Why are you talking?”
“Like I said. I’m tired of people dying.”
“You knew you’d talk and yet Rafi let you go unharmed? Sounds too neat to be true.”
“Maybe I’m just making it up to dupe you.”
“Jack, take it easy. Amir, don’t move.”
Veronica’s composed voice cut into the call.
“Jack, he’s quite handsome in person.”
Amir, who was standing on the opposite side of the wall from Jack, holding a receiver himself, smiled at that.
The joke across the handset dried the damp air of the concourse a little. They were tracing different faces of the same space with their fingers.
Jack tightened his grip on the receiver and nodded softly. The nod felt like a small signal matched to the city’s beat and also like the announcement of yet another endless season.
Light in the corridor flowed slowly; shadows folded and layered; the conversation seeped into the tiles and sank.
Jack looked around slowly. The NYPD officers who routinely guarded Grand Central from terror stood at the entrances. Under Veronica’s orders, they had all focused on keeping Amir within range. Red and green laser dots from M4 carbines with Picatinny rails marked Amir’s feet. Likely the red came from the terminal’s NYPD contingent and the green from Veronica’s team. Two squads had lined up their sights to contain his movement. Of course, the sights were not on Amir’s forehead.
Suddenly a sharp smack of sound struck the receiver.
“Amir, who are you?” It was Ana.
Amir’s eyes widened for an instant then he recovered.
“Was I followed? Miss Patel. And who are you? Getting in Jack’s way.”
He shrugged with his thumb and pointed to his own feet, where the red and green laser dots rested. Ana stepped forward in her voice.
“Please. Come with Jack.”
Jack added, “For now, get arrested. We’ll hear the details with Veronica.”
Veronica said nothing; Jack assumed she nodded. He switched the receiver in his hand.
Amir laughed.
“If I were to say yes and surrender, we wouldn’t be having this conversation now, would we? Look — trains are coming in. Watch your crosshairs.”
The concourse swelled with people in the early morning. New York breathed around the terminal. The stream of humanity was the city’s pulse, its very blood flow; warmth surged through the concourse.
When Ana shifted her gaze for a moment to that tide of people, she spoke calmly and gently.
“Please. To Jack.”
Amir’s smile fell when he met her look. He accepted Ana’s gaze and said,
“Do you remember the morning at the exhibition when we first met? That wasn’t an accident. I went there to kill you.”
Ana’s eyes went white. Life drained from her gaze; the surrounding clamor carried her away and it vanished. Then, softly, she said, why?
“If you disappear, Bombay Blood in America will be just Justin and me.”
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Across the nation television networks switched to breaking news. Anchors’ voices trembled as they searched for words; the screen held still images of the scene. Smartphone notifications chimed all at once, but what arrived felt less like words than an announcement of silence.
Social feeds filled in an instant; everyone stared at the frozen time on their screens.
“What is going on…?” Hands halted midreach as people watched the images. On distant street corners, in cafés, in offices, faces of people holding their breath were shown.
An old woman on a park bench gripped her bag; a mother with a child went speechless; a driver tightened his hands on the wheel. Silence took the city’s clamor, the suburbs’ stillness, the open fields of the countryside and wrapped them all together in a single deep breath.
Emergency responses began within government agencies. Phones rang; red alarms flashed on screens. A presidential aide lost words and the pen in his hand trembled. Hallways inside the White House fell quiet; only footsteps echoed.
Words could not be pinned down; fear and confusion spread like a chain. Emergency teams moved; experts began analysis. Reports, communications, camera footage — every piece of information crossed and re-crossed — yet the four had slipped through all eyes of surveillance.
Their silence left no record, but it scored a sure claw mark on the world’s timeline.
City, state, nation, the world — all inhaled together and froze in the same instant.
The four shadows completed their mission at the center of the world without being recognized, then dissolved as shadows into the curtain of night.
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My new novel:
B♭ (B-flat)
There’s still more to come. 😃
(This is not the final draft.)
Set in New York City.
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Soundtrack.
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack/pl.u-47...
For japanese
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack-for-jap...
Note: I gave a brief explanation of this novel in the following video:
youtu.be/3w65lqUF-YI?si=yG7qy6TPeCL9xRJV
iTunes Playlist Link::
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b/pl.u-47DJGhopxMD
For japanese
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack-for-jap...
My new novel:
B♭ (B-flat)
Notes
1. "Bombay Blood Type (hh type)"
•Characteristics: A rare blood type that lacks the usual ABO antigens — cannot be classified as A, B, or O.
•Discovery: First identified in 1952 in Mumbai, India (formerly Bombay).
•Prevalence: Roughly 1 in 10,000 people in India; globally, about 1 in 2.5 million.
•Transfusion Compatibility: Only compatible with blood from other Bombay type donors.
2. 2024 Harvard University Valedictorian Speech – The Power of Not Knowing
youtu.be/SOUH8iVqSOI?si=Ju-Y728irtcWR71K
3. Shots Fired at Trump Rally
youtu.be/1ejfAkzjEhk?si=ASqJwEmkY-2rW_hT
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Title.
無音。
僕の新しい小説
B♭ （ビーフラット） ……. Mitsushiro Nakagawa
“あらすじ”
北朝鮮の仮想通貨システムをハッキングし、数億ドルを奪取したガザ出身のパレスチナ人グループが、アメリカ合衆国へ密かに潜入する。
彼らの目的は、失われた祖国ガザを、アメリカの地に「復元」することだった。
共和党による強硬な移民政策と、国内にくすぶる排外感情を利用し、アメリカ社会を内側から崩壊させる計画が静かに進行していく。
共和党大統領候補ジャスティン・ブラッドフォードがマディソン・スクエア・ガーデンで演説中に狙撃され、ほぼ同時刻、ロサンゼルスでは前大統領オーウェン・リードもまた、民主党候補ライアン・ベネットの集会で撃たれる。
国家を二分する双方向の暗殺。だが、ジャスティンは奇跡的に生還する。
彼の血液型は、世界でわずか250万人に一人といわれる「ボンベイブラッド」。
その希少な血を提供できたのは、ブルックリンで活動するコミュニティアート・ファシリテーター、アナヤ・パテルだった。
彼女の血液はベルビュー病院の血液バンクに保存されており、緊急輸血によって、候補者の命はかろうじて繋がれた。
シークレットサービスのジャック・バンスは、テロの背後にガザ出身の組織が関与していることを察知し、FBIロサンゼルス支局長官キャメロン・バートレット、ニューヨーク支局の特別捜査官ヴェロニカ・リーブスと共に捜査を進める。
やがて彼らは、イスラム大学で建築学を学んだラフィ・ガンナムが、ロサンゼルスやニューヨークの再開発現場に潜入し、梁や構造体の中枢にC4爆薬を仕込んでいた事実に辿り着く。
標的は、ICE（移民・関税執行局）やERO（執行・送還作戦部門）の職員が暮らす新興住宅街——すなわち、「アメリカが築いた秩序」そのものだった。
ヴェロニカは、これ以上の破壊を防ぐため、大統領への対話を進言するが、現職のグラント・ランフォード大統領は耳を貸さない。
一方、命を取り留めたジャスティンと民主党候補ライアンは、テレビを通じて国民に訴えかけ、分断を乗り越えようとする。
だが、その理性の声を嘲笑うかのように、グラントはアイオワ州での演説を強行し、「テロには屈しない」と宣言する。
その会場には、すでにラフィの仲間が率いる工作チームが潜入していた。
崩壊する会場の惨状を前に、仲間の一人アミール・ナッセルは、かつてガザで妹を失った記憶に引き裂かれ、破壊の連鎖を止めようとする。
だが、ラフィの信念は揺るがない。
ウィリアムズバーグ橋の下、夕暮れの喧騒のなか、二人は決別する。
それは、祈りと報復、希望と虚無の境界線だった——。
“登場人物”
アナヤ・パテル ２５歳 コミュニティアート・ファシリテーター
アルジュン・シン ２６歳 アナヤの恋人・ルミナテック・イノベーションズ社
佐藤 ミカ ２５歳 アナの友人・コミュニティアート・ファシリテーター
ジャスティン・ブラッドフォード ２７歳 共和党大統領候補
エリノア・ブレイク ２６歳 ジャスティンの婚約者
グラント・M・ランフォード大統領 ６１歳 共和党大統領現職
チャールズ・ベインズ副大統領 ６４歳 共和党副大統領現職
ライアン・ベネット ３０歳 民主党大統領候補
ソフィア・ベネット ３０歳 ライアンの妻
オーウェン・リード ６５歳 民主党前大統領
ジャック・バンス ４５歳 シークレットサービス 元FBIロサンゼルス支局
ベン・ホロウェイ ３０歳 ジャックの同僚
ダリル・ロス ２９歳 ジャックの同僚
イライジャ・ケイン ２８歳 ジャックの同僚
マーカス・デイン ４５歳 FBI ロサンゼルス支局
キャメロン・バートレット ５５歳 FBI ロサンゼルス支局 支局長
トム・コールドウェル ３８歳 FBI技術班 マーカスの部下
ヴェロニカ・リーヴス ４１歳 FBI特別捜査官
アレクサンダー・ハリス ５２歳 FBI ニューヨーク支局 支局長
エリオット・チェン ３６歳 テクノロジー班主任
アリシア・モンロー ５８歳 FBI長官
ザカリア・ハッダード ５１歳 パレスチナ・ガザ地区 元イスラム大学 工学部教授 ニューヨークチーム
アミール・ナッセル ２３歳 パレスチナ・ガザ地区 元イスラム大学 電子工学部 ニューヨークチーム
ラフィ・ガンナム ３２歳 パレスチナ・ガザ地区 イスラム大学 建築学部 ニューヨークチーム
ロハン・シャー ２９歳 パレスチナ・ガザ地区 イスラム大学 建築学部 ニューヨークチーム
マジード・ハムザ ４７歳 パレスチナ・ガザ地区 パレスチナ大学 情報技術学部 ロサンゼルスチーム
サミラ・ハンマド ２８歳 パレスチナ・ガザ地区 パレスチナ大学 工学部 ロサンゼルスチーム
サイード・カバリ ３５歳 パレスチナ・ガザ地区 パレスチナ大学 経営学部 ロサンゼルスチーム
リーム・ナセル ３０歳 パレスチナ・ガザ地区 パレスチナ大学 メディア学部 ロサンゼルスチーム
ノア・レヴィ 55歳 イスラエル テルアビブ在住 ユダヤ人
僕のこの小説は、来年、２０２６年２月末日に公開します。
先日、リドリースコット監督がサブスクの映画やドラマ群がつまらないと話していたようだけど、同感です。
僕も非常に退屈です。
それらに2時間を要するなら、僕の小説を２分間だけ読んで欲しい。
その2分間は、２時間を越えるでしょう。
僕は自信があります。
ぜひ、期待してお待ちください。
Mitsushiro Nakagawa
09th. Oct . 2025.
追伸
ネトフリに挑戦する男、みっちゃん。😃
( iPhone 13 pro shot )
本須賀海岸。九十九里浜。山武市。千葉県。日本。10月９日。2025. … 0.9 / 10
(今日の写真。それは未発表です。）
Images.
Taylor Swift … This Love ( 和訳 )
youtu.be/PfJzQuqWSSE?si=TrtL4Mb-uN2dNmML
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僕の新しい小説。
B♭ （ビーフラット）
第20弾。 😄
以下は、まだ初稿の段階です。まだ推敲します。
公開している内容の順番はバラバラです。
今回で部分的な公開を最後にします。
２０２６年２月２８日。
その日にすべてを公開します。
期待して待っていてください。😃
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僕の新しい小説。
B♭ （ビーフラット）
「ジャック、スマホのメッセージを見ろ。またメッセージが飛び込んでいる。IPアドレスは、グランドセントラルターミナルのそばにあるニューヨーク公共図書館の分館、スタヴロス・ニアルコス財団経由だ」
ベンからのフェイスタイムだった。ガーデンのすぐそば、NYPDのミッドタウン南分署に設置された対策室で待機しているベンからだ。ベンの声はこれだけの事件が起きているにも関わらず、冷静だった。
ジャックはアイフォンに指を滑らせ、表示された短い文を確かめた。文字列は無造作に並んでいたが文の輪郭を整えているように見えた。
― グランドセントラルの地下コンコースにアーチ形の天井がある。そこへ来い。ジャック・バンス。言うまでもないがひとりでだぞ、と言っても一人ではないと思うがな ―
メッセージは、ジャックの胸の内を強く叩いた。
車はヴァンダービルト・アヴェニューを北へ抜け、グランドセントラルの南端に差しかかった。街はまだ朝を迎えきれず、ビルの谷間に籠もった湿気が金属の匂いを帯びていた。
ジャックはアクセルを抜き、黒いSUVを滑らせるように歩道ぎりぎりへ寄せた。タイヤが縁石をかすめる瞬間、路面に残る雨粒が光の筋となって跳ねた。
ジャックは重いドアを押し開き、足を落とした。靴音が一拍遅れて石畳に響いた。
彼は一度だけ背後の通りを見やると、赤いサイレンの反射がショーウィンドウの奥をよぎり、通りの影に沈む通行人の顔を、刹那だけ白く照らした。
その光の切れ目を縫うように、ジャックは地下コンコースへ降りる階段へと向かった。
通用扉は重く、金属の軋みがわずかに響いた。構内には地下鉄の呼吸のような低い唸りが満ちていた。
冷気が頬を打ち、空調ダクトの奥から、遠くの構内放送が滲んで聞こえくる。
額の汗を拭ったジャックはグランドセントラルの階段を一段飛ばしに駆け降りた。照明の琥珀色が靴底に流れ、ターミナルの心臓の鼓動のように足音が連なった。
鉄の手すりは冷たく、指先に浅い震えを伝えた。階段の奥からは人の足音が複層的に重なり、地下へと導く古いリズムを刻んでいる。アーチ型の天井は空気を柔らかに吸い込み、照明は薄く膜のように光を張っている。
地下コンコースの空気は湿り、古い煉瓦の壁は過去の雨を忘れられずに微かに匂っているようだ。床のタイルは長年の踏み跡で曇り、ところどころにひびが走って、そこへ街の小さな記憶が溜まっている。
ジャックはそれらを意識せずに歩を進めた。彼の視線は、通路の奥にある暗がりへと自然に吸い寄せられていた。そこにはいつもと同じ出勤途中の人たちが早足で過ぎていく。
壁際に並ぶ古びた看板や掲示板は、折れたチラシを枕にして眠るように貼り付いている。清掃員が一つの帯のようにモップを引き、その先でベンチが一つ、淡い孤独を描くように置かれている。
通路を流れる空気は、まるで都市の静脈のゆっくりした鼓動だとジャックは思った。自分の呼吸が、その鼓動と同じ拍に馴染むのを感じながら、歩みを進めた。
足元のタイルに光が差し、影がゆらりと伸びた。エスカレーターの金属音が遠くで微かに鳴り、階段から吹き下りる風がジャックの体にこもった熱を冷ました。街の匂いと、地下の湿り気と、古い電灯の微熱が入り混じって、時間はゆっくりと溶けてゆく。
歩を止めたジャックは掌をこすり、周囲に視線を散らした。耳に入る雑踏は、独特の反響を帯びて方向感覚を曖昧にする。彼はただ、どこかにいる「それ」を捜しているのだと自分に言い聞かせる。
再び歩き出した瞬間、金属が擦れる高音が辺りの空気を裂いた。一瞬、彼の頸筋が弾かれ、足元に微かな緊張が走った。反射的に足を止めると、視界の端で受話器が小さく揺れていた。
コードは年月の重みでねじれ、埃まみれの金属部分が鈍く光っている。誰も使わないはずの電話が、唐突に、祭りの鐘のように鳴った。都市の静寂に差し込む異音。音は低く、しかし確実に空気を震わせた。
ジャックはゆっくりと視線をそれに向けた。地下の重い空気が一瞬、膝の裏を押すように沈む。耳に届くのは自分の呼吸と、受話器の小さな振動音だけだ。周囲の人々は何事もないように通り過ぎ、母親が幼児の手を引き、老いた男が新聞を折りたたんで小脇に抱え直し、去ってゆく。
受話器はジャックを呼んでいた。沈黙の裂け目からの呼び声は、まるで古い地図の裏側で震えるインクのように、じわりと広がる。ジャックは無言で手を伸ばし、受話器を取り上げた。金属は冷たく、その冷たさが掌に現実を落とした。
「……ジャック」
声は低く、だがはっきりしていた。耳に残る音色に、時間が少しだけ逆戻りする気配があった。ネットの映像で見知った声の輪郭。しかしテレビで聞いたときとは異なり、そこには刃ではなく遠い夕焼けのような色度が含まれているようだった。
ジャックは受話器越しに、通路の端の人影や、ベンチの孤独、床に落ちた小さな紙片──それらが会話の合間に流れ込むのを感じた。声音は会話の窓に、街の細部を滑り込ませるものだ。
「どうした、アミール。覇気のない声だな」
ジャックの声は静かだが、地面に落ちる石のように重みを持っていた。受話器の向こうで、アミールがすこし鼻で笑うのが聞こえた。
「ときどきは落ち込むこともあるさ、人間だからね」
その声は穏やかで、かつ遠い。以前に見せた公の顔とは違い、こちらは影の中で磨かれたものだった。通話の間、隣を通り過ぎる親子の会話がスナップのように割り込み、また消えていった。
「ジャック、これから言うことをよく聴け。ま、録音はしてるだろうけどな」
「それはお互い様だろ」
受話器の向こうで、アミールの言葉は滑らかに落ち、地下のタイルに小さな波紋を作るようだった。周囲の雑音が一度だけ音像を濁らせ、また整頓される。母親の靴音、清掃員のモップの擦れる音、遠くの自販機の冷える音──それらが会話のリズムに交差してゆく。
「俺はこのチームから降りた。理由は、もう多くの人間が死ぬのを見たくないからだ。それだけだ」
ジャックの指先が受話器の脈動を確かめた。声は冷静を装うが、その奥に震えがあるのを彼は聴き取った。地下の照明の輪郭が、アミールの言葉ごとにわずかに滲む。
「それを信じろって言うのか？ お前らの教授、ザカリアはそんな弱音を吐くなって言ってるぞ、せっかく盛大に死んだのに」
アミールはしばらく黙り、何かを笑い飛ばすような吐息を漏らした。通路の端でキャンディを舐める子供の小さな舌音が、言葉の間を埋めた。
「で、どうしたんだ？ 失恋でもしたのか？」
「そんなところだ。この起爆装置は、これからも多くの建物を破壊する」
その一言が、受話器の内の小さな部屋を突き破った。ジャックは一瞬だけ、地下の光が薄く濁るのを見た。だが通路は相変わらず普段どおりで、誰も振り返らない。異変は音の中にしか存在しない。
「どこにどれくらいセットし、どんな仕掛けなんだ、正確に、手短に話せ。つまらないジョークは混ぜるな」
ジャックの口調は掴みかけた氷のように冷たい。受話器の向こうでアミールは静かに説明を試みるが、ジャックは言葉の細部よりもその声が持つ重さに耳を澄ます。通話の合間、壁際の電話ボックスの影が長く伸び、床に細い黒い溝を引いた。
「俺たちは、一般人で訓練されたテロリストではない。しかし、渡された情報は各個人へ分散されていた。たとえば今、俺がこうしてあんたに電話しているように裏切りが生まれた時のことを考えてね」
アミールの声は慎重で、しかし怯えはない。ジャックは受話器を耳にしっかり押し当て、周囲の生活音がそのまま説明の布地となって織り込まれていくのを感じていた。通路の端で老女がバッグを直す音、遠くでシャッターが開く小さな仕事のはじまりの合図が聞こえた。
「俺たちが潜入したのは、今から５年ほど前だ。その頃に建てられていた建造物の中枢にC4を仕掛けた。ラフィは大学で建築学を学んでいたからね。崩壊する様子はもうネットでも１００万回再生だからわかってるだろう。起爆させるためには、ミュートリーダーというQRコードを読み取る昔の携帯電話が必要だ。それとペアで独自に俺がつくったタブレットもだ。このタブレットのバッテリー部分、3分の２にC4を埋め込んだ。このタブレットも大昔にあった指紋認証式のタブレットだ。俺が作ったタブレットは2台だ。それがロサンゼルスとニューヨークに分かれて存在している」
「つまり、起爆装置は2台か？」
「わからない。俺の他にも電子工学部の人間がいたからな。それからQRコードを読み取る携帯電話は大昔、あまりに特殊すぎて売れずに浸透しなかった機器だ」
「どういう流れで起爆させるんだ？」
「あるサイトに特殊なQRコードが設置されているらしい。そこに携帯電話をかざして読み込む。QRコードは３Dレイヤーだ。コードが立体的に浮かび上がって解読し、起爆させるコードへ変換させ、電波で飛ばす」
「電波？ Wi-Fiではなくか？」
「Wi-Fiだったら、あんたらすぐに止められるだろ？ そこは俺がタブレットを改造した。Wi-FiではなくFM電波だ、パイレーツラジオ（海賊ラジオ）と同じ仕組みだ」
「ならば、周波数を駆逐できるぞ」
アミールはしばらく笑ってからいった。
「周波数はいくらでも変えられるようにアプリを設定した。ちなみに周波数を妨害しようと発せられた電波も起爆するようセットした。つまり、いずれにしても、ドカンだ」
ジャックは、しばらく沈黙してから続けた。
「QRコードは、どこのサイトにあるんだ？」
「わからない。すべての過程で分散している。ハードの製造、QRコードの場所、起爆させる操作。流れを散らすことで、裏切りを抑止しているようだった」
ふたりの間に再び沈黙が落ちた。アミールは、足元に落とした視線を引き上げて、いった。
「ジャック、ここまで話しているんだから、知っていたら話しているさ。つまり、ミュートリーダーを手にしている人間にしかわからない。今で言うなら ….」
「ラフィだけ、か」
「そのとおりだ」
二人の間に沈黙が落ち、通話は薄い氷の上で揺れている。ジャックの呼吸がゆっくりと現実を取り戻した。地下の光は細く、しかししっかりと彼を照らしている。
「アミール、どうして話す？」
「さっきもいったとおりだ。人の死にはうんざりだ」
「お前がこうして喋ることがわかっているのに、ラフィはお前を無傷で解放したのか？ この話を信じるにはうますぎないか？」
「確かに。俺が適当なことをいって、あんたらをカモるかもね」
「ジャック、お疲れ様、アミール、その場を動かないで」
ヴェロニカの落ち着いた声が二人の通話に割り込んだ。
「ジャック、実物はなかなかの男前だな」
そういったアミールは、ちょうどジャックのいる壁面の反対側で受話器を手にしていた。
受話器越しの冗談は、地下の湿った空気を幾分、乾かせた。彼らは同じ空間の別々の面を指でなぞっているようだ。
ジャックは受話器を握りなおし、静かに頷いた。その頷きは、街の鼓動に合わせた小さな合図のようでもあり、また終わりのない季節の一端を告げるものでもあった。通路の光がゆるやかに流れ、影が折り重なり、会話は地下のタイルにゆっくりと染み渡っていった。
ジャックは、ゆっくり辺りを見渡した。元々、グランドセントラルターミナルをテロから守る為に、日常的に警護していたNYPDが出入り口に構えている。非常事態の現在、ヴェロニカの指示で一斉にアミールを射程内に捕らえていた。ピカティニーレールを持ったM4カービンの赤とグリーンのレーザーサイトがアミールの両足に張り付いていた。おそらく、赤はターミナルのNYPDで、グリーンがヴェロニカのチームだろう。二つの班がアミールの動きを封じようと照準を定めていた。もちろん、照準はアミールの額にはない。
突然、ジャックの受話器の向こうから頬を叩く音が響いた。
「アミール、あなたは何者なの？」
その声はアナだった。
アミールは一瞬目を丸くしたが、すぐに自分を取り戻した。
「ジャック、つけられてたのか？ ミス・パテル。君こそ何者なんだ？ ジャックの邪魔をしているよ」
彼はそういって親指を逆さにし、自分の足を示した。そこには、赤とグリーンのレーザーサイトが静かに張り付いていた。アナはアミールに詰め寄ると言い放った。
「いっしょに出頭して」
その言葉にジャックは付け足した。
「とりあえず捕まれ。詳しい話は、ヴェロニカといっしょに聞いてやる」
ヴェロニカは足さなかったが、おそらく頷いているだろうと思いながら、ジャックは受話器を持ち替えた。
アミールは一笑した。
「言うまでもないが、はい、わかりましたというなら、ここで対話してないよな。ほら、列車がたくさん到着したぞ、照準に気をつけな」
早朝のターミナルに、人が溢れ出した。ターミナルを中心にニューヨークは呼吸している。人の流れは、都市の脈動であり、血流そのものだ。コンコースには人の熱気が溢れ出していた。
溢れた人の流れに一瞬目を移すと、アナは冷静に、そして穏やかな眼差しでいった。
「おねがい。ジャックのところへ」
アミールも同じように笑みを消すと、アナの視線を受け入れ、いった。
「君に初めて会った展示の朝を覚えているかい？ あれは偶然じゃない。僕は君を殺しに行ったんだ」
アナの視線が白くなった。眼差しからは生気が失せ、周囲の喧騒に流され、消えていった。そして、どうして？ と小さく言葉を落とした。
「君が消えれば、アメリカでボンベイブラッドは、ジャスティンと僕だけだ」
////////////////
全国のテレビ局が緊急報道に切り替わった。
キャスターの声は震え、言葉を探す間、画面には会場の静止した映像が映った。スマートフォンの通知が一斉に鳴り、しかし、届くのは言葉ではなく、静寂の報せのように感じられた。
SNSのタイムラインは瞬く間に情報で埋まり、誰もが画面の中で止まった時間を見つめていた。
「どういうことだ…？」画面を見つめる手が、思わず止まる。
画面の向こう、遠くの街角でも、カフェでも、オフィスでも、息を呑む人々の姿が映る。
公園のベンチに座る老女は、手にしたバッグを握りしめ、子供を抱く母親は言葉を失い、運転中の男性はハンドルを握る手に力を込めた。
沈黙は、都市の喧騒、郊外の静けさ、田舎の広野を一斉に包み込み、世界を一つの深い呼吸に束ねた。
政府機関では緊急対応が始まっていた。電話が鳴り、スクリーンに赤い警報が灯っている。大統領補佐官は言葉を失い、ペンを握る手が微かに震えている。ホワイトハウス内の廊下は、普段の喧騒を消し、足音だけが響いた。
誰も正確に理解できないまま、言葉は混乱と恐怖の連鎖として広がっていく。政府内の応急対応が動き、専門家たちが分析を開始する。報告書、通信、カメラ映像、あらゆる情報が交錯するが、四人の存在は、すべての監視の目をすり抜けていた。
四人の沈黙は、記録に残らず、しかし世界の時間軸に確実な爪痕を刻んだのだ。
都市、州、国家、世界 — すべてが一瞬にして同じ呼吸をし、同じ時間の中で凍りついた。
四人の影は、誰にも認識されることなく、世界の中心でその使命を終え、影のまま、夜の帳の中に溶け込んでいった。
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僕の新しい小説。
B♭ （ビーフラット）
舞台はニューヨークです。
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Soundtrack.
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack/pl.u-47...
For japanese
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack-for-jap...
iTunes Playlist Link::
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b/pl.u-47DJGhopxMD
For japanese
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack-for-jap...
追記 この小説を多少説明しました。
youtu.be/3w65lqUF-YI?si=yG7qy6TPeCL9xRJV
メモ
1
「Bombay型（ボンベイ型、hh型）」
•特徴：通常のABO血液型を持たない（A、B、Oに分類されない）特殊な型。
•発見地：1952年、インド・ムンバイ（旧ボンベイ）で初めて確認。
•発生頻度：インドでは1万人に1人程度だが、世界的には約250万人に1人とも。
•輸血制限：同じBombay型しか輸血できない。
2
2024年ハーバード大学首席の卒業式スピーチ『知らないことの力』
youtu.be/SOUH8iVqSOI?si=Ju-Y728irtcWR71K
3
Shots fired at Trump rally
youtu.be/1ejfAkzjEhk?si=ASqJwEmkY-2rW_hT
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Title:
S-4-5-6-7
B♭ (B Flat)
A Novel by Mitsushiro Nakagawa
日本語のあらすじ等は下の方にあります😃
一部分の公開を更新しました。今回が最後です😃
“Synopsis”
A Palestinian group from Gaza hacks into North Korea’s cryptocurrency system, stealing hundreds of millions of dollars. Their true goal is not money—but to recreate the lost homeland of Gaza on American soil.
Amid the backdrop of hardline Republican immigration policies and a growing wave of xenophobia, a quiet plan begins to take shape: the gradual collapse of America from within.
During a speech at Madison Square Garden, Republican presidential candidate Justin Bradford is shot. Almost simultaneously in Los Angeles, former president Owen Reed is attacked at a rally for Democratic hopeful Ryan Bennett.
Two assassinations—mirroring one another—ignite a nation’s deepest divide. Yet, against all odds, Justin survives. His blood type is one in 2.5 million: the Bombay Blood Group.
The only person who can donate such blood is Anaya Patel, a community art facilitator working in Brooklyn. Her blood, stored in the Bellevue Hospital Blood Bank, is used for an emergency transfusion that saves the candidate’s life.
Jack Vance, an agent of the U.S. Secret Service, suspects a Gaza-based network behind the attacks. Together with Cameron Bartlett, the FBI Director of the Los Angeles Field Office, and Veronica Reeves, a senior investigator from New York, he begins to uncover a vast conspiracy.
Their investigation leads them to Rafi Gannam, a former architecture student at the Islamic University of Gaza, who has infiltrated redevelopment sites across Los Angeles and New York—embedding C4 explosives deep within beams and structural cores.
His targets: new residential districts where agents of ICE (Immigration and Customs Enforcement) and ERO (Enforcement and Removal Operations) live—symbols of “the order America built.”
Veronica urges the President to pursue dialogue to prevent further destruction, but President Grant M. Ranford refuses to listen.
Meanwhile, the recovering Justin and his Democratic rival Ryan appear on national television, calling for unity beyond political divisions.
Their words of reason, however, are drowned out when Grant takes the stage in Iowa, defiantly declaring: “We will never bow to terror.”
Among the crowd, Rafi’s operatives have already taken their positions.
As chaos erupts and the stage collapses, Amir Nasser—once Rafi’s comrade, haunted by the memory of his sister’s death in Gaza—tries desperately to halt the chain of destruction.
But Rafi’s conviction remains unshaken.
Under the twilight beneath the Williamsburg Bridge, amid the city’s fading noise, the two men part ways.
It is the boundary between prayer and vengeance, between hope and nothingness.
“Characters”
Anaya Patel – 25, Community Art Facilitator
Arjun Singh – 26, Anaya’s boyfriend, Luminatech Innovations
Mika Sato – 25, Anaya’s friend, Community Art Facilitator
Justin Bradford – 27, Republican Presidential Candidate
Eleanor Blake – 26, Justin’s fiancée
President Grant M. Langford – 61, Incumbent Republican President
Vice President Charles “Chuck” Baines – 64, Incumbent Republican Vice President
Ryan Bennett – 30, Democratic Presidential Candidate
Sophia Bennett – 30, Ryan’s wife
Owen Reed – 65, Former Democratic President
Jack Vance – 45, Secret Service, Former FBI Los Angeles Field Office
Ben Holloway – 30, Jack’s colleague
Darryl Ross – 29, Jack’s colleague
Elijah Kane – 28, Jack’s colleague
Marcus Dane – 45, FBI Los Angeles Field Office
Cameron Bartlett – 55, FBI Los Angeles Field Office, Field Office Director
Tom Caldwell – 38, FBI Technical Unit, Marcus’s subordinate
Veronica Reeves – 41, FBI Special Agent
Alexander Harris – 52, FBI New York Field Office, Field Office Director
Elliot Chen – 36, Technology Unit Chief
Alicia Monroe – 58, FBI Director
Zakaria Haddad – 51, Gaza Strip, Palestine; Former Islamic University Engineering Professor, New York Team
Amir Nasser – 23, Gaza Strip, Palestine; Former Islamic University Electronics Engineering, New York Team
Rafi Gannam – 32, Gaza Strip, Palestine; Islamic University, Architecture, New York Team
Rohan Shah – 29, Gaza Strip, Palestine; Islamic University, Architecture, New York Team
Majid Hamza – 47, Gaza Strip, Palestine; University of Palestine, Information Technology, Los Angeles Team
Samira Hammad – 28, Gaza Strip, Palestine; University of Palestine, Engineering, Los Angeles Team
Saeed Kabari – 35, Gaza Strip, Palestine; University of Palestine, Business Administration, Los Angeles Team
Reem Nasser – 30, Gaza Strip, Palestine; University of Palestine, Media Studies, Los Angeles Team
Noah Levi – 55, Israel, residing in Tel Aviv, Jewish
B♭ will be released worldwide on February 29, 2026.
Recently, director Ridley Scott remarked that streaming films and series have become dull.
I agree.
If you have two hours to spare for such stories, I ask for only two minutes of your time.
Two minutes with my novel will outlast those two hours.
I am confident of that.
Stay tuned.
Mitsushiro
October 9th, 2025
P.S.
Micchan — the man who challenges Netflix. 😃
Manhattan. New York. USA. 2017. ... 2 / 10
(Today's photo. It was previously unpublished, but has recently been re-edited from the original.)
Images.
Taylor Swift … This Love
youtu.be/PfJzQuqWSSE?si=TrtL4Mb-uN2dNmML
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🌟 My New Novel: "B♭" (B Flat)
This is the 20th installment! 😄
The following is still in the first draft stage. I will revise it further.
•The order of the content being shared is random.
•This will be the final time I share partial excerpts.
The full novel will be released on February 28, 2026.
Please look forward to it! 😃
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My new novel
B♭ (B Flat)
English translation by GPT-5, in collaboration with Mitsushiro Nakagawa
“Jack, look at your phone. Another message just came through. The IP address traces to a branch of the New York Public Library near Grand Central — via the Stavros Niarchos Foundation.”
It was a FaceTime from Ben. He was standing by in the NYPD Midtown South command post just beside the Garden. Despite everything that was happening, Ben’s voice was calm.
Jack slid his finger across his iPhone and read the short line that appeared. The characters lay down carelessly, yet somehow they gave the sentence a shape.
— There’s an arched ceiling in the underground concourse of Grand Central. Come there. Jack Vance. And don’t come alone — though, of course, you won’t be alone. —
The message struck at the inside of Jack’s chest like a ringing.
The car threaded north along Vanderbilt Avenue and came up at the southern lip of Grand Central. The city had not quite woken; the damp that hid in the canyon between buildings carried the metallic smell of morning. Jack let off the gas and eased the black SUV to the curb, almost sliding it along. As the tires brushed the edge of the pavement, the remaining beads of rain on the road leapt up into streaks of light.
He pushed open the heavy door and stepped out. His shoes hit the cobbles a beat later. Once he turned to look down the street behind him, the red reflection of a siren flashed through a shop window and briefly lit the faces of passersby, whitening them for a single instant.
Weaving through that cut of light, Jack made for the stairs that led down to the concourse. The service door groaned with a slight metallic protest. Inside, a low hum, like the breathing of a subway, filled the space. A cold breath struck his cheeks, and from the depths of the HVAC ducts a distant station announcement blurred toward him.
Wiping the sweat from his brow, Jack took the stairs of Grand Central two at a time. The amber lighting flowed across his soles; his footsteps linked together like the heartbeat of the terminal.
The iron handrail was cold, passing a faint tremor into his fingertips. From far down the stairs other footsteps layered over one another, keeping an old rhythm that led downward. The arched ceiling drew the air in gently; the lights spread a thin film of glow.
The concourse smelled of damp; the old brick walls seemed unable to forget past rains and exhaled them faintly. The floor tiles were dulled by years of feet; hairline cracks ran through them, where little memories of the city had gathered. Jack walked without attending to these things. His gaze was naturally drawn to the darkness at the far end of the corridor. The usual stream of commuters hurried past.
Weathered signs and bulletin boards clung to the walls like pillows for torn flyers. A cleaner dragged her mop in a single ribbon; beyond it, a lone bench sat as if sketching a pale loneliness.
The air that moved through the passage felt to Jack like the slow pulse of a city’s vein. He felt his breath fall into the same beat and kept walking.
Light touched the tiles at his feet and shadows stretched and swayed. The faint metallic noise of an escalator sounded somewhere far away; the gust from the stairs cooled the heat that had gathered in his body. The scent of the city, the underground damp, and the faint warmth of old lamps mixed; time began to melt slowly.
Stopping, Jack rubbed his palms and let his eyes roam. The hum all around carried a peculiar echo that blurred one’s sense of direction. He told himself he was only looking for “it,” somewhere in the concourse.
As he moved again, a high metallic scrape suddenly sliced the air. His neck muscles twitched and a tautness ran through the soles of his feet. Reflexively he froze; at the edge of his vision a receiver quivered.
Its cord, knotted with the weight of years, twisted; dusty metal glinted dully. A telephone that should have been unused rang out abruptly, like a festival bell — an alien note within the city’s hush. The sound was low but it made the air itself tremble.
Jack turned to it slowly. The heavy underground air seemed to press against the backs of his knees. All he heard was his own breathing and the faint vibration of the receiver. People flowed past as if nothing had happened: a mother led a child by the hand, an old man refolded his newspaper and tucked it under his arm, and moved on.
The receiver was calling to Jack. The call came from a tear in silence, spreading slowly like ink trembling on the reverse side of an old map. He reached out without speaking and picked up the handset. The metal was cold; that cold dropped reality onto his palm.
“…Jack.”
The voice was low but distinct. Its timbre made time seem to slip backward just a touch. He recognized the voice from online footage; yet unlike the voice heard on television, here it carried not a blade but the color of a distant sunset.
Through the receiver Jack felt the corridor’s edges, the bench’s solitude, the small scrap of paper on the floor trickle into the pauses of the conversation. The voice let the city’s details slide in through the window of speech.
“What’s up, Amir? Sounding a little low.” Jack’s voice was quiet and heavy, like a stone dropped to ground. Through the handset he heard Amir’s small nasal laugh.
“Sometimes you get down — you’re only human.”
The voice was calm and remote. It was not the public mask Amir sometimes wore, but something honed in shadow. During the call the brief chatter of a passing parent and child snapped into the line and then was gone.
“Listen carefully to what I’m going to say. Well, you’re probably recording.”
“Likewise,” Jack replied.
Amir’s words fell smoothly through the receiver, making tiny ripples on the tiled floor of the underground. The noise around them blurred once and then resolved again: the mother’s footsteps, the mop’s scrape, the distant clink of a vending machine — all intersecting with the rhythm of speech.
“I’m out of the team. The reason? I don’t want to watch more people die. That’s it.”
Jack felt the receiver’s pulse under his fingers. The voice tried on calm but Jack could hear a tremor beneath. The lights in the concourse blurred slightly with each of Amir’s sentences.
“Are you asking me to believe that? Your professor Zakaria says don’t talk like that — he went out in a big way.” Amir fell silent and let out an exhale that sounded like a laugh as if to shrug something off. At the corridor’s edge a child sucking on candy made a tiny wet sound that filled the space between words.
“So what now? Heartbroken?” Jack asked.
“Something like that. This detonator will destroy many buildings yet.”
That phrase punched through the little room inside the receiver. For an instant the light underground clouded faintly. Yet the corridor moved on as always; no one turned. The anomaly existed only in sound.
“Tell me exactly where, how many, what mechanism — brief. Don’t mix in jokes.” Jack’s tone chilled like ice cracking. Amir tried to explain calmly, but Jack listened more to the weight behind the words than to their particulars. In the pauses, the phone booth’s shadow stretched and traced a thin black groove across the floor.
“We weren’t trained terrorists, not professionals. The information was distributed piece by piece. Think of how betrayal would happen — like how I can call you now.” Amir’s voice was careful; not fearful. Jack pressed the receiver to his ear and felt the city’s everyday noises woven into the fabric of the explanation. An old woman adjusting her bag at the corridor’s edge, the faint opening of a shutter somewhere distant — the beginnings of small workdays.
“We infiltrated about five years ago. We planted C4 in the core of buildings that were being built then. Rafi studied architecture, so he knew where to place it. You’ve seen the collapse a million times online, you know how it looks. To detonate, you need an old phone that reads a ‘mute reader’ QR code. Along with it is a tablet I made myself. I embedded C4 into two-thirds of its battery. The tablet has old fingerprint authentication — the kind from a long time ago. I made two of them. One is in Los Angeles, one in New York.”
“So there are two detonators?”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t the only one from the electronics department. Also, the phones that read the QR code are ancient, too specialized — they never caught on.”
“How do you trigger it?”
“There’s a special QR code placed on a site. You hold the phone up and read it. The QR is a 3D layer. The code rises in relief, deciphers itself, converts into a detonation code, and sends it by radio.”
“Radio? Not Wi‑Fi?”
“If it were Wi‑Fi you’d shut it down quickly. I modified the tablet. It’s not Wi‑Fi — it uses FM radio, like pirate radio.”
“We can jam the frequency.”
Amir laughed for a long moment before speaking.
“I set the app so the frequency can be changed arbitrarily. I also set it so that any signal sent to jam the frequency triggers the detonation. So either way, boom.”
Jack was silent for a little while, then asked,
“Where is the QR code located?”
“I don’t know. Everything was compartmentalized. Hardware production, QR placement, activation method. By scattering the flow, it seemed designed to deter betrayal.”
Silence fell again between them. Amir lifted his eyes from the ground and said,
“Jack, I’d tell you if I knew. Only those holding a mute reader would know. Today, that’s…”
“Just Rafi?”
“That’s right.”
Silence spread between them. The call hovered like thin ice. Jack’s breathing returned slowly to the present. The underground light was narrow but it marked him clearly.
“Why are you talking?”
“Like I said. I’m tired of people dying.”
“You knew you’d talk and yet Rafi let you go unharmed? Sounds too neat to be true.”
“Maybe I’m just making it up to dupe you.”
“Jack, take it easy. Amir, don’t move.”
Veronica’s composed voice cut into the call.
“Jack, he’s quite handsome in person.”
Amir, who was standing on the opposite side of the wall from Jack, holding a receiver himself, smiled at that.
The joke across the handset dried the damp air of the concourse a little. They were tracing different faces of the same space with their fingers.
Jack tightened his grip on the receiver and nodded softly. The nod felt like a small signal matched to the city’s beat and also like the announcement of yet another endless season.
Light in the corridor flowed slowly; shadows folded and layered; the conversation seeped into the tiles and sank.
Jack looked around slowly. The NYPD officers who routinely guarded Grand Central from terror stood at the entrances. Under Veronica’s orders, they had all focused on keeping Amir within range. Red and green laser dots from M4 carbines with Picatinny rails marked Amir’s feet. Likely the red came from the terminal’s NYPD contingent and the green from Veronica’s team. Two squads had lined up their sights to contain his movement. Of course, the sights were not on Amir’s forehead.
Suddenly a sharp smack of sound struck the receiver.
“Amir, who are you?” It was Ana.
Amir’s eyes widened for an instant then he recovered.
“Was I followed? Miss Patel. And who are you? Getting in Jack’s way.”
He shrugged with his thumb and pointed to his own feet, where the red and green laser dots rested. Ana stepped forward in her voice.
“Please. Come with Jack.”
Jack added, “For now, get arrested. We’ll hear the details with Veronica.”
Veronica said nothing; Jack assumed she nodded. He switched the receiver in his hand.
Amir laughed.
“If I were to say yes and surrender, we wouldn’t be having this conversation now, would we? Look — trains are coming in. Watch your crosshairs.”
The concourse swelled with people in the early morning. New York breathed around the terminal. The stream of humanity was the city’s pulse, its very blood flow; warmth surged through the concourse.
When Ana shifted her gaze for a moment to that tide of people, she spoke calmly and gently.
“Please. To Jack.”
Amir’s smile fell when he met her look. He accepted Ana’s gaze and said,
“Do you remember the morning at the exhibition when we first met? That wasn’t an accident. I went there to kill you.”
Ana’s eyes went white. Life drained from her gaze; the surrounding clamor carried her away and it vanished. Then, softly, she said, why?
“If you disappear, Bombay Blood in America will be just Justin and me.”
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Across the nation television networks switched to breaking news. Anchors’ voices trembled as they searched for words; the screen held still images of the scene. Smartphone notifications chimed all at once, but what arrived felt less like words than an announcement of silence.
Social feeds filled in an instant; everyone stared at the frozen time on their screens.
“What is going on…?” Hands halted midreach as people watched the images. On distant street corners, in cafés, in offices, faces of people holding their breath were shown.
An old woman on a park bench gripped her bag; a mother with a child went speechless; a driver tightened his hands on the wheel. Silence took the city’s clamor, the suburbs’ stillness, the open fields of the countryside and wrapped them all together in a single deep breath.
Emergency responses began within government agencies. Phones rang; red alarms flashed on screens. A presidential aide lost words and the pen in his hand trembled. Hallways inside the White House fell quiet; only footsteps echoed.
Words could not be pinned down; fear and confusion spread like a chain. Emergency teams moved; experts began analysis. Reports, communications, camera footage — every piece of information crossed and re-crossed — yet the four had slipped through all eyes of surveillance.
Their silence left no record, but it scored a sure claw mark on the world’s timeline.
City, state, nation, the world — all inhaled together and froze in the same instant.
The four shadows completed their mission at the center of the world without being recognized, then dissolved as shadows into the curtain of night.
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My new novel:
B♭ (B-flat)
There’s still more to come. 😃
(This is not the final draft.)
Set in New York City.
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Soundtrack.
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack/pl.u-47...
For japanese
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack-for-jap...
Note: I gave a brief explanation of this novel in the following video:
youtu.be/3w65lqUF-YI?si=yG7qy6TPeCL9xRJV
iTunes Playlist Link::
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b/pl.u-47DJGhopxMD
For japanese
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack-for-jap...
My new novel:
B♭ (B-flat)
Notes
1. "Bombay Blood Type (hh type)"
•Characteristics: A rare blood type that lacks the usual ABO antigens — cannot be classified as A, B, or O.
•Discovery: First identified in 1952 in Mumbai, India (formerly Bombay).
•Prevalence: Roughly 1 in 10,000 people in India; globally, about 1 in 2.5 million.
•Transfusion Compatibility: Only compatible with blood from other Bombay type donors.
2. 2024 Harvard University Valedictorian Speech – The Power of Not Knowing
youtu.be/SOUH8iVqSOI?si=Ju-Y728irtcWR71K
3. Shots Fired at Trump Rally
youtu.be/1ejfAkzjEhk?si=ASqJwEmkY-2rW_hT
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Title:
S-4-5-6-7
僕の新しい小説
B♭ （ビーフラット） ……. Mitsushiro Nakagawa
“あらすじ”
北朝鮮の仮想通貨システムをハッキングし、数億ドルを奪取したガザ出身のパレスチナ人グループが、アメリカ合衆国へ密かに潜入する。
彼らの目的は、失われた祖国ガザを、アメリカの地に「復元」することだった。
共和党による強硬な移民政策と、国内にくすぶる排外感情を利用し、アメリカ社会を内側から崩壊させる計画が静かに進行していく。
共和党大統領候補ジャスティン・ブラッドフォードがマディソン・スクエア・ガーデンで演説中に狙撃され、ほぼ同時刻、ロサンゼルスでは前大統領オーウェン・リードもまた、民主党候補ライアン・ベネットの集会で撃たれる。
国家を二分する双方向の暗殺。だが、ジャスティンは奇跡的に生還する。
彼の血液型は、世界でわずか250万人に一人といわれる「ボンベイブラッド」。
その希少な血を提供できたのは、ブルックリンで活動するコミュニティアート・ファシリテーター、アナヤ・パテルだった。
彼女の血液はベルビュー病院の血液バンクに保存されており、緊急輸血によって、候補者の命はかろうじて繋がれた。
シークレットサービスのジャック・バンスは、テロの背後にガザ出身の組織が関与していることを察知し、FBIロサンゼルス支局長官キャメロン・バートレット、ニューヨーク支局の特別捜査官ヴェロニカ・リーブスと共に捜査を進める。
やがて彼らは、イスラム大学で建築学を学んだラフィ・ガンナムが、ロサンゼルスやニューヨークの再開発現場に潜入し、梁や構造体の中枢にC4爆薬を仕込んでいた事実に辿り着く。
標的は、ICE（移民・関税執行局）やERO（執行・送還作戦部門）の職員が暮らす新興住宅街——すなわち、「アメリカが築いた秩序」そのものだった。
ヴェロニカは、これ以上の破壊を防ぐため、大統領への対話を進言するが、現職のグラント・ランフォード大統領は耳を貸さない。
一方、命を取り留めたジャスティンと民主党候補ライアンは、テレビを通じて国民に訴えかけ、分断を乗り越えようとする。
だが、その理性の声を嘲笑うかのように、グラントはアイオワ州での演説を強行し、「テロには屈しない」と宣言する。
その会場には、すでにラフィの仲間が率いる工作チームが潜入していた。
崩壊する会場の惨状を前に、仲間の一人アミール・ナッセルは、かつてガザで妹を失った記憶に引き裂かれ、破壊の連鎖を止めようとする。
だが、ラフィの信念は揺るがない。
ウィリアムズバーグ橋の下、夕暮れの喧騒のなか、二人は決別する。
それは、祈りと報復、希望と虚無の境界線だった——。
“登場人物”
アナヤ・パテル ２５歳 コミュニティアート・ファシリテーター
アルジュン・シン ２６歳 アナヤの恋人・ルミナテック・イノベーションズ社
佐藤 ミカ ２５歳 アナの友人・コミュニティアート・ファシリテーター
ジャスティン・ブラッドフォード ２７歳 共和党大統領候補
エリノア・ブレイク ２６歳 ジャスティンの婚約者
グラント・M・ランフォード大統領 ６１歳 共和党大統領現職
チャールズ・ベインズ副大統領 ６４歳 共和党副大統領現職
ライアン・ベネット ３０歳 民主党大統領候補
ソフィア・ベネット ３０歳 ライアンの妻
オーウェン・リード ６５歳 民主党前大統領
ジャック・バンス ４５歳 シークレットサービス 元FBIロサンゼルス支局
ベン・ホロウェイ ３０歳 ジャックの同僚
ダリル・ロス ２９歳 ジャックの同僚
イライジャ・ケイン ２８歳 ジャックの同僚
マーカス・デイン ４５歳 FBI ロサンゼルス支局
キャメロン・バートレット ５５歳 FBI ロサンゼルス支局 支局長
トム・コールドウェル ３８歳 FBI技術班 マーカスの部下
ヴェロニカ・リーヴス ４１歳 FBI特別捜査官
アレクサンダー・ハリス ５２歳 FBI ニューヨーク支局 支局長
エリオット・チェン ３６歳 テクノロジー班主任
アリシア・モンロー ５８歳 FBI長官
ザカリア・ハッダード ５１歳 パレスチナ・ガザ地区 元イスラム大学 工学部教授 ニューヨークチーム
アミール・ナッセル ２３歳 パレスチナ・ガザ地区 元イスラム大学 電子工学部 ニューヨークチーム
ラフィ・ガンナム ３２歳 パレスチナ・ガザ地区 イスラム大学 建築学部 ニューヨークチーム
ロハン・シャー ２９歳 パレスチナ・ガザ地区 イスラム大学 建築学部 ニューヨークチーム
マジード・ハムザ ４７歳 パレスチナ・ガザ地区 パレスチナ大学 情報技術学部 ロサンゼルスチーム
サミラ・ハンマド ２８歳 パレスチナ・ガザ地区 パレスチナ大学 工学部 ロサンゼルスチーム
サイード・カバリ ３５歳 パレスチナ・ガザ地区 パレスチナ大学 経営学部 ロサンゼルスチーム
リーム・ナセル ３０歳 パレスチナ・ガザ地区 パレスチナ大学 メディア学部 ロサンゼルスチーム
ノア・レヴィ 55歳 イスラエル テルアビブ在住 ユダヤ人
僕のこの小説は、来年、２０２６年２月末日に公開します。
先日、リドリースコット監督がサブスクの映画やドラマ群がつまらないと話していたようだけど、同感です。
僕も非常に退屈です。
それらに2時間を要するなら、僕の小説を２分間だけ読んで欲しい。
その2分間は、２時間を越えるでしょう。
僕は自信があります。
ぜひ、期待してお待ちください。
Mitsushiro Nakagawa
09th. Oct . 2025.
追伸
ネトフリに挑戦する男、みっちゃん。😃
マンハッタン。ニューヨーク。アメリカ。2017. … 2 / 10
(今日の写真。それは未発表済みです。しかし最近、オリジナルから再編集しています。）
Images.
Taylor Swift … This Love ( 和訳 )
youtu.be/PfJzQuqWSSE?si=TrtL4Mb-uN2dNmML
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僕の新しい小説。
B♭ （ビーフラット）
第20弾。 😄
以下は、まだ初稿の段階です。まだ推敲します。
公開している内容の順番はバラバラです。
今回で部分的な公開を最後にします。
２０２６年２月２８日。
その日にすべてを公開します。
期待して待っていてください。😃
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僕の新しい小説。
B♭ （ビーフラット）
「ジャック、スマホのメッセージを見ろ。またメッセージが飛び込んでいる。IPアドレスは、グランドセントラルターミナルのそばにあるニューヨーク公共図書館の分館、スタヴロス・ニアルコス財団経由だ」
ベンからのフェイスタイムだった。ガーデンのすぐそば、NYPDのミッドタウン南分署に設置された対策室で待機しているベンからだ。ベンの声はこれだけの事件が起きているにも関わらず、冷静だった。
ジャックはアイフォンに指を滑らせ、表示された短い文を確かめた。文字列は無造作に並んでいたが文の輪郭を整えているように見えた。
― グランドセントラルの地下コンコースにアーチ形の天井がある。そこへ来い。ジャック・バンス。言うまでもないがひとりでだぞ、と言っても一人ではないと思うがな ―
メッセージは、ジャックの胸の内を強く叩いた。
車はヴァンダービルト・アヴェニューを北へ抜け、グランドセントラルの南端に差しかかった。街はまだ朝を迎えきれず、ビルの谷間に籠もった湿気が金属の匂いを帯びていた。
ジャックはアクセルを抜き、黒いSUVを滑らせるように歩道ぎりぎりへ寄せた。タイヤが縁石をかすめる瞬間、路面に残る雨粒が光の筋となって跳ねた。
ジャックは重いドアを押し開き、足を落とした。靴音が一拍遅れて石畳に響いた。
彼は一度だけ背後の通りを見やると、赤いサイレンの反射がショーウィンドウの奥をよぎり、通りの影に沈む通行人の顔を、刹那だけ白く照らした。
その光の切れ目を縫うように、ジャックは地下コンコースへ降りる階段へと向かった。
通用扉は重く、金属の軋みがわずかに響いた。構内には地下鉄の呼吸のような低い唸りが満ちていた。
冷気が頬を打ち、空調ダクトの奥から、遠くの構内放送が滲んで聞こえくる。
額の汗を拭ったジャックはグランドセントラルの階段を一段飛ばしに駆け降りた。照明の琥珀色が靴底に流れ、ターミナルの心臓の鼓動のように足音が連なった。
鉄の手すりは冷たく、指先に浅い震えを伝えた。階段の奥からは人の足音が複層的に重なり、地下へと導く古いリズムを刻んでいる。アーチ型の天井は空気を柔らかに吸い込み、照明は薄く膜のように光を張っている。
地下コンコースの空気は湿り、古い煉瓦の壁は過去の雨を忘れられずに微かに匂っているようだ。床のタイルは長年の踏み跡で曇り、ところどころにひびが走って、そこへ街の小さな記憶が溜まっている。
ジャックはそれらを意識せずに歩を進めた。彼の視線は、通路の奥にある暗がりへと自然に吸い寄せられていた。そこにはいつもと同じ出勤途中の人たちが早足で過ぎていく。
壁際に並ぶ古びた看板や掲示板は、折れたチラシを枕にして眠るように貼り付いている。清掃員が一つの帯のようにモップを引き、その先でベンチが一つ、淡い孤独を描くように置かれている。
通路を流れる空気は、まるで都市の静脈のゆっくりした鼓動だとジャックは思った。自分の呼吸が、その鼓動と同じ拍に馴染むのを感じながら、歩みを進めた。
足元のタイルに光が差し、影がゆらりと伸びた。エスカレーターの金属音が遠くで微かに鳴り、階段から吹き下りる風がジャックの体にこもった熱を冷ました。街の匂いと、地下の湿り気と、古い電灯の微熱が入り混じって、時間はゆっくりと溶けてゆく。
歩を止めたジャックは掌をこすり、周囲に視線を散らした。耳に入る雑踏は、独特の反響を帯びて方向感覚を曖昧にする。彼はただ、どこかにいる「それ」を捜しているのだと自分に言い聞かせる。
再び歩き出した瞬間、金属が擦れる高音が辺りの空気を裂いた。一瞬、彼の頸筋が弾かれ、足元に微かな緊張が走った。反射的に足を止めると、視界の端で受話器が小さく揺れていた。
コードは年月の重みでねじれ、埃まみれの金属部分が鈍く光っている。誰も使わないはずの電話が、唐突に、祭りの鐘のように鳴った。都市の静寂に差し込む異音。音は低く、しかし確実に空気を震わせた。
ジャックはゆっくりと視線をそれに向けた。地下の重い空気が一瞬、膝の裏を押すように沈む。耳に届くのは自分の呼吸と、受話器の小さな振動音だけだ。周囲の人々は何事もないように通り過ぎ、母親が幼児の手を引き、老いた男が新聞を折りたたんで小脇に抱え直し、去ってゆく。
受話器はジャックを呼んでいた。沈黙の裂け目からの呼び声は、まるで古い地図の裏側で震えるインクのように、じわりと広がる。ジャックは無言で手を伸ばし、受話器を取り上げた。金属は冷たく、その冷たさが掌に現実を落とした。
「……ジャック」
声は低く、だがはっきりしていた。耳に残る音色に、時間が少しだけ逆戻りする気配があった。ネットの映像で見知った声の輪郭。しかしテレビで聞いたときとは異なり、そこには刃ではなく遠い夕焼けのような色度が含まれているようだった。
ジャックは受話器越しに、通路の端の人影や、ベンチの孤独、床に落ちた小さな紙片──それらが会話の合間に流れ込むのを感じた。声音は会話の窓に、街の細部を滑り込ませるものだ。
「どうした、アミール。覇気のない声だな」
ジャックの声は静かだが、地面に落ちる石のように重みを持っていた。受話器の向こうで、アミールがすこし鼻で笑うのが聞こえた。
「ときどきは落ち込むこともあるさ、人間だからね」
その声は穏やかで、かつ遠い。以前に見せた公の顔とは違い、こちらは影の中で磨かれたものだった。通話の間、隣を通り過ぎる親子の会話がスナップのように割り込み、また消えていった。
「ジャック、これから言うことをよく聴け。ま、録音はしてるだろうけどな」
「それはお互い様だろ」
受話器の向こうで、アミールの言葉は滑らかに落ち、地下のタイルに小さな波紋を作るようだった。周囲の雑音が一度だけ音像を濁らせ、また整頓される。母親の靴音、清掃員のモップの擦れる音、遠くの自販機の冷える音──それらが会話のリズムに交差してゆく。
「俺はこのチームから降りた。理由は、もう多くの人間が死ぬのを見たくないからだ。それだけだ」
ジャックの指先が受話器の脈動を確かめた。声は冷静を装うが、その奥に震えがあるのを彼は聴き取った。地下の照明の輪郭が、アミールの言葉ごとにわずかに滲む。
「それを信じろって言うのか？ お前らの教授、ザカリアはそんな弱音を吐くなって言ってるぞ、せっかく盛大に死んだのに」
アミールはしばらく黙り、何かを笑い飛ばすような吐息を漏らした。通路の端でキャンディを舐める子供の小さな舌音が、言葉の間を埋めた。
「で、どうしたんだ？ 失恋でもしたのか？」
「そんなところだ。この起爆装置は、これからも多くの建物を破壊する」
その一言が、受話器の内の小さな部屋を突き破った。ジャックは一瞬だけ、地下の光が薄く濁るのを見た。だが通路は相変わらず普段どおりで、誰も振り返らない。異変は音の中にしか存在しない。
「どこにどれくらいセットし、どんな仕掛けなんだ、正確に、手短に話せ。つまらないジョークは混ぜるな」
ジャックの口調は掴みかけた氷のように冷たい。受話器の向こうでアミールは静かに説明を試みるが、ジャックは言葉の細部よりもその声が持つ重さに耳を澄ます。通話の合間、壁際の電話ボックスの影が長く伸び、床に細い黒い溝を引いた。
「俺たちは、一般人で訓練されたテロリストではない。しかし、渡された情報は各個人へ分散されていた。たとえば今、俺がこうしてあんたに電話しているように裏切りが生まれた時のことを考えてね」
アミールの声は慎重で、しかし怯えはない。ジャックは受話器を耳にしっかり押し当て、周囲の生活音がそのまま説明の布地となって織り込まれていくのを感じていた。通路の端で老女がバッグを直す音、遠くでシャッターが開く小さな仕事のはじまりの合図が聞こえた。
「俺たちが潜入したのは、今から５年ほど前だ。その頃に建てられていた建造物の中枢にC4を仕掛けた。ラフィは大学で建築学を学んでいたからね。崩壊する様子はもうネットでも１００万回再生だからわかってるだろう。起爆させるためには、ミュートリーダーというQRコードを読み取る昔の携帯電話が必要だ。それとペアで独自に俺がつくったタブレットもだ。このタブレットのバッテリー部分、3分の２にC4を埋め込んだ。このタブレットも大昔にあった指紋認証式のタブレットだ。俺が作ったタブレットは2台だ。それがロサンゼルスとニューヨークに分かれて存在している」
「つまり、起爆装置は2台か？」
「わからない。俺の他にも電子工学部の人間がいたからな。それからQRコードを読み取る携帯電話は大昔、あまりに特殊すぎて売れずに浸透しなかった機器だ」
「どういう流れで起爆させるんだ？」
「あるサイトに特殊なQRコードが設置されているらしい。そこに携帯電話をかざして読み込む。QRコードは３Dレイヤーだ。コードが立体的に浮かび上がって解読し、起爆させるコードへ変換させ、電波で飛ばす」
「電波？ Wi-Fiではなくか？」
「Wi-Fiだったら、あんたらすぐに止められるだろ？ そこは俺がタブレットを改造した。Wi-FiではなくFM電波だ、パイレーツラジオ（海賊ラジオ）と同じ仕組みだ」
「ならば、周波数を駆逐できるぞ」
アミールはしばらく笑ってからいった。
「周波数はいくらでも変えられるようにアプリを設定した。ちなみに周波数を妨害しようと発せられた電波も起爆するようセットした。つまり、いずれにしても、ドカンだ」
ジャックは、しばらく沈黙してから続けた。
「QRコードは、どこのサイトにあるんだ？」
「わからない。すべての過程で分散している。ハードの製造、QRコードの場所、起爆させる操作。流れを散らすことで、裏切りを抑止しているようだった」
ふたりの間に再び沈黙が落ちた。アミールは、足元に落とした視線を引き上げて、いった。
「ジャック、ここまで話しているんだから、知っていたら話しているさ。つまり、ミュートリーダーを手にしている人間にしかわからない。今で言うなら ….」
「ラフィだけ、か」
「そのとおりだ」
二人の間に沈黙が落ち、通話は薄い氷の上で揺れている。ジャックの呼吸がゆっくりと現実を取り戻した。地下の光は細く、しかししっかりと彼を照らしている。
「アミール、どうして話す？」
「さっきもいったとおりだ。人の死にはうんざりだ」
「お前がこうして喋ることがわかっているのに、ラフィはお前を無傷で解放したのか？ この話を信じるにはうますぎないか？」
「確かに。俺が適当なことをいって、あんたらをカモるかもね」
「ジャック、お疲れ様、アミール、その場を動かないで」
ヴェロニカの落ち着いた声が二人の通話に割り込んだ。
「ジャック、実物はなかなかの男前だな」
そういったアミールは、ちょうどジャックのいる壁面の反対側で受話器を手にしていた。
受話器越しの冗談は、地下の湿った空気を幾分、乾かせた。彼らは同じ空間の別々の面を指でなぞっているようだ。
ジャックは受話器を握りなおし、静かに頷いた。その頷きは、街の鼓動に合わせた小さな合図のようでもあり、また終わりのない季節の一端を告げるものでもあった。通路の光がゆるやかに流れ、影が折り重なり、会話は地下のタイルにゆっくりと染み渡っていった。
ジャックは、ゆっくり辺りを見渡した。元々、グランドセントラルターミナルをテロから守る為に、日常的に警護していたNYPDが出入り口に構えている。非常事態の現在、ヴェロニカの指示で一斉にアミールを射程内に捕らえていた。ピカティニーレールを持ったM4カービンの赤とグリーンのレーザーサイトがアミールの両足に張り付いていた。おそらく、赤はターミナルのNYPDで、グリーンがヴェロニカのチームだろう。二つの班がアミールの動きを封じようと照準を定めていた。もちろん、照準はアミールの額にはない。
突然、ジャックの受話器の向こうから頬を叩く音が響いた。
「アミール、あなたは何者なの？」
その声はアナだった。
アミールは一瞬目を丸くしたが、すぐに自分を取り戻した。
「ジャック、つけられてたのか？ ミス・パテル。君こそ何者なんだ？ ジャックの邪魔をしているよ」
彼はそういって親指を逆さにし、自分の足を示した。そこには、赤とグリーンのレーザーサイトが静かに張り付いていた。アナはアミールに詰め寄ると言い放った。
「いっしょに出頭して」
その言葉にジャックは付け足した。
「とりあえず捕まれ。詳しい話は、ヴェロニカといっしょに聞いてやる」
ヴェロニカは足さなかったが、おそらく頷いているだろうと思いながら、ジャックは受話器を持ち替えた。
アミールは一笑した。
「言うまでもないが、はい、わかりましたというなら、ここで対話してないよな。ほら、列車がたくさん到着したぞ、照準に気をつけな」
早朝のターミナルに、人が溢れ出した。ターミナルを中心にニューヨークは呼吸している。人の流れは、都市の脈動であり、血流そのものだ。コンコースには人の熱気が溢れ出していた。
溢れた人の流れに一瞬目を移すと、アナは冷静に、そして穏やかな眼差しでいった。
「おねがい。ジャックのところへ」
アミールも同じように笑みを消すと、アナの視線を受け入れ、いった。
「君に初めて会った展示の朝を覚えているかい？ あれは偶然じゃない。僕は君を殺しに行ったんだ」
アナの視線が白くなった。眼差しからは生気が失せ、周囲の喧騒に流され、消えていった。そして、どうして？ と小さく言葉を落とした。
「君が消えれば、アメリカでボンベイブラッドは、ジャスティンと僕だけだ」
////////////////
全国のテレビ局が緊急報道に切り替わった。
キャスターの声は震え、言葉を探す間、画面には会場の静止した映像が映った。スマートフォンの通知が一斉に鳴り、しかし、届くのは言葉ではなく、静寂の報せのように感じられた。
SNSのタイムラインは瞬く間に情報で埋まり、誰もが画面の中で止まった時間を見つめていた。
「どういうことだ…？」画面を見つめる手が、思わず止まる。
画面の向こう、遠くの街角でも、カフェでも、オフィスでも、息を呑む人々の姿が映る。
公園のベンチに座る老女は、手にしたバッグを握りしめ、子供を抱く母親は言葉を失い、運転中の男性はハンドルを握る手に力を込めた。
沈黙は、都市の喧騒、郊外の静けさ、田舎の広野を一斉に包み込み、世界を一つの深い呼吸に束ねた。
政府機関では緊急対応が始まっていた。電話が鳴り、スクリーンに赤い警報が灯っている。大統領補佐官は言葉を失い、ペンを握る手が微かに震えている。ホワイトハウス内の廊下は、普段の喧騒を消し、足音だけが響いた。
誰も正確に理解できないまま、言葉は混乱と恐怖の連鎖として広がっていく。政府内の応急対応が動き、専門家たちが分析を開始する。報告書、通信、カメラ映像、あらゆる情報が交錯するが、四人の存在は、すべての監視の目をすり抜けていた。
四人の沈黙は、記録に残らず、しかし世界の時間軸に確実な爪痕を刻んだのだ。
都市、州、国家、世界 — すべてが一瞬にして同じ呼吸をし、同じ時間の中で凍りついた。
四人の影は、誰にも認識されることなく、世界の中心でその使命を終え、影のまま、夜の帳の中に溶け込んでいった。
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僕の新しい小説。
B♭ （ビーフラット）
舞台はニューヨークです。
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54829426478/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54811315069/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54793744070/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54771288620/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54769008619/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54758538180/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54743658539/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54720346098/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54713957969/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54703714420/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54696914108/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54686544606/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54653035442/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54639396885/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54628511025/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54599616429/in/dateposted...
Soundtrack.
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack/pl.u-47...
For japanese
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack-for-jap...
iTunes Playlist Link::
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b/pl.u-47DJGhopxMD
For japanese
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack-for-jap...
追記 この小説を多少説明しました。
youtu.be/3w65lqUF-YI?si=yG7qy6TPeCL9xRJV
メモ
1
「Bombay型（ボンベイ型、hh型）」
•特徴：通常のABO血液型を持たない（A、B、Oに分類されない）特殊な型。
•発見地：1952年、インド・ムンバイ（旧ボンベイ）で初めて確認。
•発生頻度：インドでは1万人に1人程度だが、世界的には約250万人に1人とも。
•輸血制限：同じBombay型しか輸血できない。
2
2024年ハーバード大学首席の卒業式スピーチ『知らないことの力』
youtu.be/SOUH8iVqSOI?si=Ju-Y728irtcWR71K
3
Shots fired at Trump rally
youtu.be/1ejfAkzjEhk?si=ASqJwEmkY-2rW_hT
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Waves caught breaking simultaneous off a cliff wall.
As a surf photographer I look for patterns in the ocean. Here I was waiting for a swell that supposed to arrive before dark, but started to fill in after the sun set. No worries because this motion blur worked out perfect! Hiking for a good hour to find a spot high up a hill to find the view I wanted. Happy with the result.
↳ Follow me : Facebook | Instagram | Flickr
If you liked this shot please leave a Comment or put it up in your Favourites!
If you want to buy this image, please contact me via
The goddess was tall, thin, and fit, with long, natural brown hair, pretty blue eyes, and a great smile!
Cute freckles!
It was a nice sunny, windless, warm, winter's day out on the beach, where the sun stays low all day for epic shooting!
Shooting simultaneous stills & video rocks! I do it on every shoot now, while also mounting several stationary DSLRs/camcorders for video in addition to the Panasonic or Sony Camcorder bracketed to my Canon 5D or Nikon D800E.
The sea & sand goddess was tall, thin, fit, and athletic, with gorgerous brown hair and pretty blue eyes and long legs! She's a dancer! Wearing a pink polka-dot bikini!
Pretty freckles too!
Title:
Time.
B♭ (B Flat)
A Novel by Mitsushiro Nakagawa
日本語のあらすじ等は下の方にあります😃
一部分の公開を更新しました。今回が最後です😃
“Synopsis”
A Palestinian group from Gaza hacks into North Korea’s cryptocurrency system, stealing hundreds of millions of dollars. Their true goal is not money—but to recreate the lost homeland of Gaza on American soil.
Amid the backdrop of hardline Republican immigration policies and a growing wave of xenophobia, a quiet plan begins to take shape: the gradual collapse of America from within.
During a speech at Madison Square Garden, Republican presidential candidate Justin Bradford is shot. Almost simultaneously in Los Angeles, former president Owen Reed is attacked at a rally for Democratic hopeful Ryan Bennett.
Two assassinations—mirroring one another—ignite a nation’s deepest divide. Yet, against all odds, Justin survives. His blood type is one in 2.5 million: the Bombay Blood Group.
The only person who can donate such blood is Anaya Patel, a community art facilitator working in Brooklyn. Her blood, stored in the Bellevue Hospital Blood Bank, is used for an emergency transfusion that saves the candidate’s life.
Jack Vance, an agent of the U.S. Secret Service, suspects a Gaza-based network behind the attacks. Together with Cameron Bartlett, the FBI Director of the Los Angeles Field Office, and Veronica Reeves, a senior investigator from New York, he begins to uncover a vast conspiracy.
Their investigation leads them to Rafi Gannam, a former architecture student at the Islamic University of Gaza, who has infiltrated redevelopment sites across Los Angeles and New York—embedding C4 explosives deep within beams and structural cores.
His targets: new residential districts where agents of ICE (Immigration and Customs Enforcement) and ERO (Enforcement and Removal Operations) live—symbols of “the order America built.”
Veronica urges the President to pursue dialogue to prevent further destruction, but President Grant M. Ranford refuses to listen.
Meanwhile, the recovering Justin and his Democratic rival Ryan appear on national television, calling for unity beyond political divisions.
Their words of reason, however, are drowned out when Grant takes the stage in Iowa, defiantly declaring: “We will never bow to terror.”
Among the crowd, Rafi’s operatives have already taken their positions.
As chaos erupts and the stage collapses, Amir Nasser—once Rafi’s comrade, haunted by the memory of his sister’s death in Gaza—tries desperately to halt the chain of destruction.
But Rafi’s conviction remains unshaken.
Under the twilight beneath the Williamsburg Bridge, amid the city’s fading noise, the two men part ways.
It is the boundary between prayer and vengeance, between hope and nothingness.
“Characters”
Anaya Patel – 25, Community Art Facilitator
Arjun Singh – 26, Anaya’s boyfriend, Luminatech Innovations
Mika Sato – 25, Anaya’s friend, Community Art Facilitator
Justin Bradford – 27, Republican Presidential Candidate
Eleanor Blake – 26, Justin’s fiancée
President Grant M. Langford – 61, Incumbent Republican President
Vice President Charles “Chuck” Baines – 64, Incumbent Republican Vice President
Ryan Bennett – 30, Democratic Presidential Candidate
Sophia Bennett – 30, Ryan’s wife
Owen Reed – 65, Former Democratic President
Jack Vance – 45, Secret Service, Former FBI Los Angeles Field Office
Ben Holloway – 30, Jack’s colleague
Darryl Ross – 29, Jack’s colleague
Elijah Kane – 28, Jack’s colleague
Marcus Dane – 45, FBI Los Angeles Field Office
Cameron Bartlett – 55, FBI Los Angeles Field Office, Field Office Director
Tom Caldwell – 38, FBI Technical Unit, Marcus’s subordinate
Veronica Reeves – 41, FBI Special Agent
Alexander Harris – 52, FBI New York Field Office, Field Office Director
Elliot Chen – 36, Technology Unit Chief
Alicia Monroe – 58, FBI Director
Zakaria Haddad – 51, Gaza Strip, Palestine; Former Islamic University Engineering Professor, New York Team
Amir Nasser – 23, Gaza Strip, Palestine; Former Islamic University Electronics Engineering, New York Team
Rafi Gannam – 32, Gaza Strip, Palestine; Islamic University, Architecture, New York Team
Rohan Shah – 29, Gaza Strip, Palestine; Islamic University, Architecture, New York Team
Majid Hamza – 47, Gaza Strip, Palestine; University of Palestine, Information Technology, Los Angeles Team
Samira Hammad – 28, Gaza Strip, Palestine; University of Palestine, Engineering, Los Angeles Team
Saeed Kabari – 35, Gaza Strip, Palestine; University of Palestine, Business Administration, Los Angeles Team
Reem Nasser – 30, Gaza Strip, Palestine; University of Palestine, Media Studies, Los Angeles Team
Noah Levi – 55, Israel, residing in Tel Aviv, Jewish
B♭ will be released worldwide on February 29, 2026.
Recently, director Ridley Scott remarked that streaming films and series have become dull.
I agree.
If you have two hours to spare for such stories, I ask for only two minutes of your time.
Two minutes with my novel will outlast those two hours.
I am confident of that.
Stay tuned.
Mitsushiro
October 9th, 2025
P.S.
Micchan — the man who challenges Netflix. 😃
Newark Liberty International Airport
3 Brewster Rd., Newark, NJ 07114, USA 2017. … 5 / 10
(Today's photo. It was previously unpublished, but has recently been re-edited from the original.)
Images.
21 Savage, Summer Walker - prove it
youtu.be/oa8kjoT-MrM?si=dfInglve15lOZ-if
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My new novel:
B♭ (B-flat)
There’s still more to come. 😃
(This is not the final draft.)
Set in New York City.
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54851971628/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54811315069/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54793744070/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54771288620/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54769008619/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54758538180/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54743658539/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54737038151/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54720346098/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54713957969/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54703714420/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54696914108/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54686544606/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54653035442/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54639396885/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54628511025/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54599616429/in/dateposted...
Soundtrack.
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack/pl.u-47...
For japanese
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack-for-jap...
Note: I gave a brief explanation of this novel in the following video:
youtu.be/3w65lqUF-YI?si=yG7qy6TPeCL9xRJV
iTunes Playlist Link::
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b/pl.u-47DJGhopxMD
For japanese
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack-for-jap...
My new novel:
B♭ (B-flat)
Notes
1. "Bombay Blood Type (hh type)"
•Characteristics: A rare blood type that lacks the usual ABO antigens — cannot be classified as A, B, or O.
•Discovery: First identified in 1952 in Mumbai, India (formerly Bombay).
•Prevalence: Roughly 1 in 10,000 people in India; globally, about 1 in 2.5 million.
•Transfusion Compatibility: Only compatible with blood from other Bombay type donors.
2. 2024 Harvard University Valedictorian Speech – The Power of Not Knowing
youtu.be/SOUH8iVqSOI?si=Ju-Y728irtcWR71K
3. Shots Fired at Trump Rally
youtu.be/1ejfAkzjEhk?si=ASqJwEmkY-2rW_hT
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Title:
Time.
僕の新しい小説
B♭ （ビーフラット） ……. Mitsushiro Nakagawa
“あらすじ”
北朝鮮の仮想通貨システムをハッキングし、数億ドルを奪取したガザ出身のパレスチナ人グループが、アメリカ合衆国へ密かに潜入する。
彼らの目的は、失われた祖国ガザを、アメリカの地に「復元」することだった。
共和党による強硬な移民政策と、国内にくすぶる排外感情を利用し、アメリカ社会を内側から崩壊させる計画が静かに進行していく。
共和党大統領候補ジャスティン・ブラッドフォードがマディソン・スクエア・ガーデンで演説中に狙撃され、ほぼ同時刻、ロサンゼルスでは前大統領オーウェン・リードもまた、民主党候補ライアン・ベネットの集会で撃たれる。
国家を二分する双方向の暗殺。だが、ジャスティンは奇跡的に生還する。
彼の血液型は、世界でわずか250万人に一人といわれる「ボンベイブラッド」。
その希少な血を提供できたのは、ブルックリンで活動するコミュニティアート・ファシリテーター、アナヤ・パテルだった。
彼女の血液はベルビュー病院の血液バンクに保存されており、緊急輸血によって、候補者の命はかろうじて繋がれた。
シークレットサービスのジャック・バンスは、テロの背後にガザ出身の組織が関与していることを察知し、FBIロサンゼルス支局長官キャメロン・バートレット、ニューヨーク支局の特別捜査官ヴェロニカ・リーブスと共に捜査を進める。
やがて彼らは、イスラム大学で建築学を学んだラフィ・ガンナムが、ロサンゼルスやニューヨークの再開発現場に潜入し、梁や構造体の中枢にC4爆薬を仕込んでいた事実に辿り着く。
標的は、ICE（移民・関税執行局）やERO（執行・送還作戦部門）の職員が暮らす新興住宅街——すなわち、「アメリカが築いた秩序」そのものだった。
ヴェロニカは、これ以上の破壊を防ぐため、大統領への対話を進言するが、現職のグラント・ランフォード大統領は耳を貸さない。
一方、命を取り留めたジャスティンと民主党候補ライアンは、テレビを通じて国民に訴えかけ、分断を乗り越えようとする。
だが、その理性の声を嘲笑うかのように、グラントはアイオワ州での演説を強行し、「テロには屈しない」と宣言する。
その会場には、すでにラフィの仲間が率いる工作チームが潜入していた。
崩壊する会場の惨状を前に、仲間の一人アミール・ナッセルは、かつてガザで妹を失った記憶に引き裂かれ、破壊の連鎖を止めようとする。
だが、ラフィの信念は揺るがない。
ウィリアムズバーグ橋の下、夕暮れの喧騒のなか、二人は決別する。
それは、祈りと報復、希望と虚無の境界線だった——。
“登場人物”
アナヤ・パテル ２５歳 コミュニティアート・ファシリテーター
アルジュン・シン ２６歳 アナヤの恋人・ルミナテック・イノベーションズ社
佐藤 ミカ ２５歳 アナの友人・コミュニティアート・ファシリテーター
ジャスティン・ブラッドフォード ２７歳 共和党大統領候補
エリノア・ブレイク ２６歳 ジャスティンの婚約者
グラント・M・ランフォード大統領 ６１歳 共和党大統領現職
チャールズ・ベインズ副大統領 ６４歳 共和党副大統領現職
ライアン・ベネット ３０歳 民主党大統領候補
ソフィア・ベネット ３０歳 ライアンの妻
オーウェン・リード ６５歳 民主党前大統領
ジャック・バンス ４５歳 シークレットサービス 元FBIロサンゼルス支局
ベン・ホロウェイ ３０歳 ジャックの同僚
ダリル・ロス ２９歳 ジャックの同僚
イライジャ・ケイン ２８歳 ジャックの同僚
マーカス・デイン ４５歳 FBI ロサンゼルス支局
キャメロン・バートレット ５５歳 FBI ロサンゼルス支局 支局長
トム・コールドウェル ３８歳 FBI技術班 マーカスの部下
ヴェロニカ・リーヴス ４１歳 FBI特別捜査官
アレクサンダー・ハリス ５２歳 FBI ニューヨーク支局 支局長
エリオット・チェン ３６歳 テクノロジー班主任
アリシア・モンロー ５８歳 FBI長官
ザカリア・ハッダード ５１歳 パレスチナ・ガザ地区 元イスラム大学 工学部教授 ニューヨークチーム
アミール・ナッセル ２３歳 パレスチナ・ガザ地区 元イスラム大学 電子工学部 ニューヨークチーム
ラフィ・ガンナム ３２歳 パレスチナ・ガザ地区 イスラム大学 建築学部 ニューヨークチーム
ロハン・シャー ２９歳 パレスチナ・ガザ地区 イスラム大学 建築学部 ニューヨークチーム
マジード・ハムザ ４７歳 パレスチナ・ガザ地区 パレスチナ大学 情報技術学部 ロサンゼルスチーム
サミラ・ハンマド ２８歳 パレスチナ・ガザ地区 パレスチナ大学 工学部 ロサンゼルスチーム
サイード・カバリ ３５歳 パレスチナ・ガザ地区 パレスチナ大学 経営学部 ロサンゼルスチーム
リーム・ナセル ３０歳 パレスチナ・ガザ地区 パレスチナ大学 メディア学部 ロサンゼルスチーム
ノア・レヴィ 55歳 イスラエル テルアビブ在住 ユダヤ人
僕のこの小説は、来年、２０２６年２月末日に公開します。
先日、リドリースコット監督がサブスクの映画やドラマ群がつまらないと話していたようだけど、同感です。
僕も非常に退屈です。
それらに2時間を要するなら、僕の小説を２分間だけ読んで欲しい。
その2分間は、２時間を越えるでしょう。
僕は自信があります。
ぜひ、期待してお待ちください。
Mitsushiro Nakagawa
09th. Oct . 2025.
追伸
ネトフリに挑戦する男、みっちゃん。😃
Newark Liberty International Airport
3 Brewster Rd., Newark, NJ 07114, USA 2017. … 5 / 10
(今日の写真。それは未発表済みです。しかし最近、オリジナルから再編集しています。）
Images.
21 Savage, Summer Walker - prove it
youtu.be/oa8kjoT-MrM?si=dfInglve15lOZ-if
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僕の新しい小説。
B♭ （ビーフラット）
舞台はニューヨークです。
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Soundtrack.
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack/pl.u-47...
For japanese
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack-for-jap...
iTunes Playlist Link::
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b/pl.u-47DJGhopxMD
For japanese
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack-for-jap...
追記 この小説を多少説明しました。
youtu.be/3w65lqUF-YI?si=yG7qy6TPeCL9xRJV
メモ
1
「Bombay型（ボンベイ型、hh型）」
•特徴：通常のABO血液型を持たない（A、B、Oに分類されない）特殊な型。
•発見地：1952年、インド・ムンバイ（旧ボンベイ）で初めて確認。
•発生頻度：インドでは1万人に1人程度だが、世界的には約250万人に1人とも。
•輸血制限：同じBombay型しか輸血できない。
2
2024年ハーバード大学首席の卒業式スピーチ『知らないことの力』
youtu.be/SOUH8iVqSOI?si=Ju-Y728irtcWR71K
3
Shots fired at Trump rally
youtu.be/1ejfAkzjEhk?si=ASqJwEmkY-2rW_hT
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Talus MB-H is a continuous track launch tractor which was specifically designed for the Royal National Lifeboat Institution (RNLI), to launch and recover lifeboats from beach-launched lifeboat stations. The tractor was built by Clayton Engineering Limited in Knighton, Powys. The vehicle has been designed to work over varying beach environments and can easily launch and recover lifeboats of up to 15 tonnes in weight. It will comfortably work at full power into up to 2.44 metres (8.0 ft)[1] of calm water. The 3208 V8 Caterpillar diesel engine will generate power simultaneously for drive and for winching during its launch and recovery procedure. Control of the vehicle is achieved using a single joystick controller which controls the hydraulic transmission functions and has the added safety feature of a dead man pedal.
The tractor has a fully enclosed, waterproof, protective cockpit and has duplicated controls front and back for use when facing in either direction. In the event of the tractor becoming inoperable whilst in the water, it can be battened down and left on the sea bed in up to a depth of 9.0 metres (29.5 ft) without the entry of sea water. The tractor has been designed with extensive corrosion protection to protect from the very aggressive working environment of the sea water and beach conditions the tractor has to endure. The tractor when tethered to a lifeboat carriage has the capability of towing and pulling such carriages at a top speed of up to 12.0 kilometres (7.5 mi).[1] In addition to its original design intent, the tractor has the advantages of having a varied performance range and can be used for hauling, winching and heavy recovery operations either on dry land or in flood conditions. There are 30 Talus MB-H machines in the RNLI fleet in the United Kingdom and Republic of Ireland
Brooklyn Visions Academy, home of the gifted minds of New York.
As reassuring as that probably sounds, there's not much truth to that statement.
Physics class, for example, it doesn't really benefit anyone who doesn't read the book. As our daily assignments consist of filling out papers on Mythbusters episodes and the occasional graphing.
I sit quietly in class reading the Physics textbook, simultaneously filling out the paper with gibberish.
If they wanted me to fill this out, maybe show something a bit more up to science than asking if someone can catch a bullet in their mouth.
At that moment, a thought quickly entered and exited my mind.
There's no way that I could--but could I?
I gave my parents enough of a scare by not coming home on time last Friday. But you've really got to blame the bank robbers in this situation.
The bell rings, I close my book and survey my paper. Several lines in scribbles that emerge from the provided answer space, it's admittedly not my best work.
I slide my chair out from the table and quickly toss my assignment on the desk.
The one thing I like about this school, in particular, is the lack of your average 1000+ students. It's like we know each other, which is great. Until it gets to the time of year where drama spews from every crevice in the building. That's when it gets hard to tolerate.
I now stroll to my locker hoping to find something to bring to my next class to help pass the time.
Before I can grab the key from my pocket, someone greets me from the corner.
Ganke Lee: "Hey, man."
I look up to find the guy's face abnormally red. I hope he's breathing.
Ganke Lee: "I know--I know you're Spide-"
I quickly pounce to cut him off by covering his mouth. Shaking my head. We now talk in whispers.
Miles: "How do you--"
Ganke Lee: "Funnh--"
I realize I had left my hand over his mouth, I quickly wipe my hand on the side of my pants and try to tune into what he's saying.
Ganke Lee: "I'm your neighbor!"
Miles: "Oh. That still explains nothing."
Ganke Lee: "I saw a guy in red and blue spandex crawl into an open window next door. You know, if you need some kind of hideout I have a great-"
Miles: "I think we're good how we are now."
Ganke Lee: "I'm a huge Spider-Man fan, so, I just thought that the other guy got a costume change, but he didn't! You're the new guy!"
Miles: "Yeah, I am, and I'd appreciate it if you didn't spread it around like a virus."
We both pause as the bell rings. I can't let him go now, he knows my secret and is probably crumbling on the inside from excitement.
Miles: "So, who are you?"
Ganke Lee: "I'm Ganke Lee."
He shoots his hand towards me, I reluctantly put my hand out as his sweaty hand quickly grabs hold of mine and firmly shakes it.
Miles: "Exciting, huh?"
Ganke Lee: "Heck yeah. I know Spider-Man!"
I try to pull my hand from his grip until it is soon released as Ganke realizes he's been blocking off the blood flow.
Ganke Lee: "So, it's probably time to go to class but I haven't even shown you what I've needed to."
I'm going to be late. So late. It's going on my record and straight to my parents, I'm dead already.
Miles: "What is it?"
I say with one of my last calm breaths.
Ganke pulls out a newspaper clipping from his pocket.
Ganke: "Painter of a Thousand Perils Predicts Arachnid Annihilation."
He points at a picture of a street artist, the photo is dated October 1st, 2015. It depicts a man laying on the ground, charred. It looks like Peter Parker. Along with a man in green laying beside him. The artist titled it "Spider-Man: The End."
Miles: "It's weird, but what's it have to do with me?"
Ganke: "You don't get it, do you, Miles? Spider-Man died on October 8th, 2015! He died in an explosion alongside god knows how many other people."
Miles: "They didn't find the bodies, though, and most of the building was entangled afterward, just in time for demolition crews to get it all down."
Ganke: "I don't like being the pessimist but I think he's gone. For good."
He flips the clipping to reveal another painting.
Ganke: "And I think he's predicted that you'll be gone too."
The painting is dated November 11th, 2016. A red and blue suit is curled in a ball, a pipe had been thrusted through the chest of it. Blood forms the title of "Fate".
I back up in disbelief. I look at Ganke in disgust and quickly run to my next class.
Everything slows down, my chest hurts. I know I didn't exactly believe the painting of the last Spider-Man. But I can't die now, what've I even done yet?
I've only begun this. I turn and continue to the closest bathroom, shut myself in a stall and think.
Spider-Man died on October 8th, the painting was October 1st, that gives me a week. Right?
The mental math adds up, November 18th. My due date.
A thought comes to mind, just don't be Spidey. It's just a week, then you get to prove that guy wrong.
Easy... Right?
The eclectic fabric contortions made by Sonia Gomes ( born Brasil 1948 ) simultaneously evoke the idea of viscera and the sacred object, mixing expressions of love, domesticity, and totemic terror. Weeping fabrics that she has either found or has been given, Gomes follows the fault lines of affect or memory - this child's blanket, that woman's dress, a tablecloth - making and revealing arrangements intuitively, as if she were weaving her history with that of somebody else.
In her sheer candour, her sculptures become impressively expressionistic, seemingly free to do as they like, as Gomes herself seems to think about the nature of her artistic process.
Her work reflects belief expressed by the Italian Renaissance artist Michelangelo - that his sculpture is a process of revelation, of rendering explicit the inner life of the material. He is known to have said, "Carving is easy, you just have to go down to the skin and stop." Skin is important within the body of Gomes's work. The organ of sensuous contact with the world at once defines and limits its experience. It is not just about finding a work of art well designed or beautiful, it's about feeling it through your fingers.
Because cloth is a second skin, a sense of personal history permeates Gomes's fabric sculptures. A believer in the élan dital, a creative force in all organisms, she trusts that every material is magnetized with the latency of life. With that in mind, looking at her sculptures and fabrics reminds us that if almost every piece of fabric can be woven, molded, or tied together in order to become something new, then not only does the object have an inner life, but we, who are experiencing it, have it as well.
66597 passes through platform 2 with 4L66 12.28 Wahswood Heath RMC to Parkeston whilst 43055 brings up the rear of 1B48 13.32 Nottingham to St Pancras.
Large view!
New Mexico is a southwestern state in the United States of America. Over its relatively long history it has also been occupied by Native American populations and has been part of the Spanish viceroyalty of New Spain, a state of Mexico and a U.S. territory. Among U.S. states, New Mexico has simultaneously the highest percentage of Hispanic Americans (some recent immigrants and others descendants of Spanish colonists) and the second-highest percentage of Native American (mostly Navajo and Pueblo peoples). As a result, the demographics and culture of the state are unique for their strong Spanish, Mexican, and U.S. Amerindian cultural influences. The United States Census Bureau estimates that the state population was 1,954,599 in 2006, a 7.45% increase since 2000.
Geography
The eastern border of New Mexico lies along 103° W with Oklahoma, and 3 miles (5 km) west of 103° W with Texas. Texas also lies south of most of New Mexico, although the southwestern boot-heel borders the Mexican states of Chihuahua and Sonora. The western border with Arizona runs along 109° W. The 37° N parallel forms the northern boundary with Colorado. The states New Mexico, Colorado, Arizona, and Utah come together at the Four Corners in the northwestern corner of New Mexico.
The landscape ranges from wide, rose-colored deserts to broken mesas to high, snow-capped peaks. Despite New Mexico's arid image, heavily forested mountain wildernesses cover a significant portion of the state. Part of the Rocky Mountains, the broken, north-south oriented Sangre de Cristo (Blood of Christ) range flanks both sides of the Rio Grande from the rugged, pastoral north through the center of the state.
Cacti, yuccas, creosote bush, sagebrush, and desert grasses cover the broad, semiarid plains that cover the southern portion of the state as well as everywhere else.
History
The first known inhabitants of New Mexico were members of the Clovis culture of Paleo-Indians. Indeed the culture is named for the New Mexico city where the first artifacts of this culture were discovered. Later inhabitants include Native Americans of the Anasazi and the Mogollon cultures. By the time of European contact in the 1500s, the region was settled by the villages of the Pueblo peoples and groups of Navajo, Apache and Ute.
Francisco Vasquez de Coronado assembled an enormous expedition at Compostela in 1540–1542 to explore and find the mystical Seven Golden Cities of Cibola as described by Cabeza de Vaca who had just arrived from his eight-year ordeal traveling from Florida to Mexico. Coronado's men found several mud baked pueblos in 1541, but found no rich cities of gold. Further widespread expeditions found no fabulous cities anywhere in the Southwest or Great Plains. A dispirited and now poor Coronado and his men began their journey back to Mexico leaving New Mexico behind.
Over 50 years after Coronado, Juan de Oñate founded the San Juan colony on the Rio Grande in 1598, the first permanent European settlement in the future state of New Mexico. Oñate pioneered the grandly named El Camino Real, "The Royal Road", as a 700 mile (1,100 km) trail from the rest of New Spain to his remote colony. Oñate was made the first governor of the new Province of New Mexico. The Native Americans at Acoma revolted against this Spanish encroachment but faced severe suppression.
In 1609, Pedro de Peralta, a later governor of the Province of New Mexico, established the settlement of Santa Fe at the foot of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. The city, along with most of the settled areas of the state, was abandoned by the Spanish for 12 years (1680-1692) as a result of the successful Pueblo Revolt. After the death of the Pueblo leader Popé, Diego de Vargas restored the area to Spanish rule. While developing Santa Fe as a trade center, the returning settlers founded the old town of Albuquerque in 1706, naming it for the viceroy of New Spain, the Duke of Alburquerque.
Mexican province
As a part of New Spain, the claims for the province of New Mexico passed to independent Mexico following the 1810-1821 Mexican War of Independence. During the brief 26 year period of nominal Mexican control, Mexican authority and investment in New Mexico were weak, as their often conflicted government had little time or interest in a New Mexico that had been poor since the Spanish settlements started. Some Mexican officials, saying they were wary of encroachments by the growing United States, and wanting to reward themselves and their friends, began issuing enormous land grants (usually free) to groups of Mexican families as an incentive to populate the province.
Small trapping parties from the United States had previously reached and stayed in Santa Fe, but the Spanish authorities officially forbade them to trade. Trader William Becknell returned to the United States in November 1821 with news that independent Mexico now welcomed trade through Santa Fe.
William Becknell left Independence, Missouri, for Santa Fe early in 1822 with the first party of traders. The Santa Fe Trail trading company, headed by the brothers Charles Bent and William Bent and Ceran St. Vrain, was one of the most successful in the West. They had their first trading post in the area in 1826, and, by 1833, they had built their adobe fort and trading post called Bent's Fort on the Arkansas River. This fort and trading post, located about 200 miles east of Taos, New Mexico, was the only place settled by whites along the Santa Fe trail before it hit Taos. The Santa Fe National Historic Trail follows the route of the old trail, with many sites marked or restored.
The Spanish Trail from Los Angeles, California to Santa Fe, New Mexico was primarily used by Hispanics, white traders and ex-trappers living part of the year in or near Santa Fe. Started in about 1829, the trail was an arduous 2,400 mile round trip pack train sojourn that extended into Colorado, Utah, Nevada and California and back, allowing only one hard round trip per year. The trade consisted primarily of blankets and some trade goods from Santa Fe being traded for horses in California.
The Republic of Texas claimed the mostly vacant territory north and east of the Rio Grande when it successfully seceded from Mexico in 1836. New Mexico authorities captured a group of Texans who embarked an expedition to assert their claim to the province in 1841.
American territory
Following the Mexican-American War, from 1846-1848 and the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo in 1848, Mexico forcibly ceded its mostly unsettled northern holdings, today known as the American Southwest and California to the United States of America in exchange for an end to hostilities, the evacuation of Mexico City and many other areas under American control. Mexico also received $15 million cash, plus the assumption of slightly more than $3 million in outstanding Mexican debts.
The Congressional Compromise of 1850 halted a bid for statehood under a proposed antislavery constitution. Texas transferred eastern New Mexico to the federal government, settling a lengthy boundary dispute. Under the compromise, the American government established the Territory of New Mexico on September 9, 1850. The territory, which included most of the future states of Arizona, New Mexico, and parts of Colorado, officially established its capital at Santa Fe in 1851.
The United States acquired the southwestern boot heel of the state and southern Arizona below the Gila river in the mostly desert Gadsden Purchase of 1853. This purchase was desired when it was found that a much easier route for a proposed transcontinental railroad was located slightly south of the Gila river. The Southern Pacific built the second transcontinental railroad though this purchased land in 1881.
During the American Civil War, Confederate troops from Texas briefly occupied the Rio Grande valley as far north as Santa Fe. Union troops from the Territory of Colorado re-captured the territory in March 1862 at the Battle of Glorieta Pass. The Territory of Arizona was split off as a separate territory on February 24, 1863.
There were centuries of conflict between the Apache, the Navajo and Spanish-Mexican settlements in the territory. It took the federal government another 25 years after the Civil War to exert control over both the civilian and Native American populations of the territory. This started in 1864 when the Navajo were sent on "The Long Walk" to Bosque Redondo Reservation and then returned to most of their lands in 1868. The Apache were moved to various reservations and Apache wars continued until Geronimo finally surrendered in 1886.
The railway encouraged the great cattle boom of the 1880s and the development of accompanying cow towns. The cattle barons could not keep out sheepherders, and eventually homesteaders and squatters overwhelmed the cattlemen by fencing in and plowing under the "sea of grass" on which the cattle fed. Conflicting land claims led to bitter quarrels among the original Spanish inhabitants, cattle ranchers, and newer homesteaders. Despite destructive overgrazing, ranching survived and remains a mainstay of the New Mexican economy.
Albuquerque, the largest city in New Mexico, on the upper Rio Grande, was incorporated in 1889.
Statehood
Congress admitted New Mexico as the 47th state in the Union on January 6, 1912. The admission of the neighboring State of Arizona on February 14, 1912 completed the contiguous 48 states.
The United States government built the Los Alamos Research Center in 1943 amid the Second World War. Top-secret personnel there developed the atomic bomb, first detonated at Trinity site in the desert on the White Sands Proving Grounds between Socorro and Alamogordo on July 16, 1945.
Albuquerque expanded rapidly after the war. High-altitude experiments near Roswell in 1947 reputedly led to persistent but unproven suspicions that the government captured and concealed extraterrestrial corpses and equipment. The state quickly emerged as a leader in nuclear, solar, and geothermal energy research and development. The Sandia National Laboratories, founded in 1949, carried out nuclear research and special weapons development at Kirtland Air Force Base south of Albuquerque and at Livermore, California.
Located in the remote Chihuahuan Desert the Waste Isolation Pilot Plant (WIPP) is located 26 miles southeast of Carlsbad. Here nuclear wastes are buried deep in carved out salt formation disposal rooms mined 2,150 feet underground in a 2,000-foot thick salt formation that has been stable for more than 200 million years. WIPP began operations on March 26, 1999.
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
Title:
Street Light.
B♭ (B Flat)
A Novel by Mitsushiro Nakagawa
日本語のあらすじ等は下の方にあります😃
一部分の公開を更新しました。今回が最後です😃
“Synopsis”
A Palestinian group from Gaza hacks into North Korea’s cryptocurrency system, stealing hundreds of millions of dollars. Their true goal is not money—but to recreate the lost homeland of Gaza on American soil.
Amid the backdrop of hardline Republican immigration policies and a growing wave of xenophobia, a quiet plan begins to take shape: the gradual collapse of America from within.
During a speech at Madison Square Garden, Republican presidential candidate Justin Bradford is shot. Almost simultaneously in Los Angeles, former president Owen Reed is attacked at a rally for Democratic hopeful Ryan Bennett.
Two assassinations—mirroring one another—ignite a nation’s deepest divide. Yet, against all odds, Justin survives. His blood type is one in 2.5 million: the Bombay Blood Group.
The only person who can donate such blood is Anaya Patel, a community art facilitator working in Brooklyn. Her blood, stored in the Bellevue Hospital Blood Bank, is used for an emergency transfusion that saves the candidate’s life.
Jack Vance, an agent of the U.S. Secret Service, suspects a Gaza-based network behind the attacks. Together with Cameron Bartlett, the FBI Director of the Los Angeles Field Office, and Veronica Reeves, a senior investigator from New York, he begins to uncover a vast conspiracy.
Their investigation leads them to Rafi Gannam, a former architecture student at the Islamic University of Gaza, who has infiltrated redevelopment sites across Los Angeles and New York—embedding C4 explosives deep within beams and structural cores.
His targets: new residential districts where agents of ICE (Immigration and Customs Enforcement) and ERO (Enforcement and Removal Operations) live—symbols of “the order America built.”
Veronica urges the President to pursue dialogue to prevent further destruction, but President Grant M. Ranford refuses to listen.
Meanwhile, the recovering Justin and his Democratic rival Ryan appear on national television, calling for unity beyond political divisions.
Their words of reason, however, are drowned out when Grant takes the stage in Iowa, defiantly declaring: “We will never bow to terror.”
Among the crowd, Rafi’s operatives have already taken their positions.
As chaos erupts and the stage collapses, Amir Nasser—once Rafi’s comrade, haunted by the memory of his sister’s death in Gaza—tries desperately to halt the chain of destruction.
But Rafi’s conviction remains unshaken.
Under the twilight beneath the Williamsburg Bridge, amid the city’s fading noise, the two men part ways.
It is the boundary between prayer and vengeance, between hope and nothingness.
“Characters”
Anaya Patel – 25, Community Art Facilitator
Arjun Singh – 26, Anaya’s boyfriend, Luminatech Innovations
Mika Sato – 25, Anaya’s friend, Community Art Facilitator
Justin Bradford – 27, Republican Presidential Candidate
Eleanor Blake – 26, Justin’s fiancée
President Grant M. Langford – 61, Incumbent Republican President
Vice President Charles “Chuck” Baines – 64, Incumbent Republican Vice President
Ryan Bennett – 30, Democratic Presidential Candidate
Sophia Bennett – 30, Ryan’s wife
Owen Reed – 65, Former Democratic President
Jack Vance – 45, Secret Service, Former FBI Los Angeles Field Office
Ben Holloway – 30, Jack’s colleague
Darryl Ross – 29, Jack’s colleague
Elijah Kane – 28, Jack’s colleague
Marcus Dane – 45, FBI Los Angeles Field Office
Cameron Bartlett – 55, FBI Los Angeles Field Office, Field Office Director
Tom Caldwell – 38, FBI Technical Unit, Marcus’s subordinate
Veronica Reeves – 41, FBI Special Agent
Alexander Harris – 52, FBI New York Field Office, Field Office Director
Elliot Chen – 36, Technology Unit Chief
Alicia Monroe – 58, FBI Director
Zakaria Haddad – 51, Gaza Strip, Palestine; Former Islamic University Engineering Professor, New York Team
Amir Nasser – 23, Gaza Strip, Palestine; Former Islamic University Electronics Engineering, New York Team
Rafi Gannam – 32, Gaza Strip, Palestine; Islamic University, Architecture, New York Team
Rohan Shah – 29, Gaza Strip, Palestine; Islamic University, Architecture, New York Team
Majid Hamza – 47, Gaza Strip, Palestine; University of Palestine, Information Technology, Los Angeles Team
Samira Hammad – 28, Gaza Strip, Palestine; University of Palestine, Engineering, Los Angeles Team
Saeed Kabari – 35, Gaza Strip, Palestine; University of Palestine, Business Administration, Los Angeles Team
Reem Nasser – 30, Gaza Strip, Palestine; University of Palestine, Media Studies, Los Angeles Team
Noah Levi – 55, Israel, residing in Tel Aviv, Jewish
B♭ will be released worldwide on February 29, 2026.
Recently, director Ridley Scott remarked that streaming films and series have become dull.
I agree.
If you have two hours to spare for such stories, I ask for only two minutes of your time.
Two minutes with my novel will outlast those two hours.
I am confident of that.
Stay tuned.
Mitsushiro
October 9th, 2025
P.S.
Micchan — the man who challenges Netflix. 😃
Newark Liberty International Airport
3 Brewster Rd., Newark, NJ 07114, USA 2017. … 9 / 10
(Today's photo. It was previously unpublished, but has recently been re-edited from the original.)
Images.
21 Savage, Summer Walker - prove it
youtu.be/oa8kjoT-MrM?si=dfInglve15lOZ-if
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
My new novel:
B♭ (B-flat)
There’s still more to come. 😃
(This is not the final draft.)
Set in New York City.
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54599616429/in/dateposted...
Soundtrack.
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack/pl.u-47...
For japanese
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack-for-jap...
Note: I gave a brief explanation of this novel in the following video:
youtu.be/3w65lqUF-YI?si=yG7qy6TPeCL9xRJV
iTunes Playlist Link::
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b/pl.u-47DJGhopxMD
For japanese
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack-for-jap...
My new novel:
B♭ (B-flat)
Notes
1. "Bombay Blood Type (hh type)"
•Characteristics: A rare blood type that lacks the usual ABO antigens — cannot be classified as A, B, or O.
•Discovery: First identified in 1952 in Mumbai, India (formerly Bombay).
•Prevalence: Roughly 1 in 10,000 people in India; globally, about 1 in 2.5 million.
•Transfusion Compatibility: Only compatible with blood from other Bombay type donors.
2. 2024 Harvard University Valedictorian Speech – The Power of Not Knowing
youtu.be/SOUH8iVqSOI?si=Ju-Y728irtcWR71K
3. Shots Fired at Trump Rally
youtu.be/1ejfAkzjEhk?si=ASqJwEmkY-2rW_hT
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Title:
ストリートライト。
僕の新しい小説
B♭ （ビーフラット） ……. Mitsushiro Nakagawa
“あらすじ”
北朝鮮の仮想通貨システムをハッキングし、数億ドルを奪取したガザ出身のパレスチナ人グループが、アメリカ合衆国へ密かに潜入する。
彼らの目的は、失われた祖国ガザを、アメリカの地に「復元」することだった。
共和党による強硬な移民政策と、国内にくすぶる排外感情を利用し、アメリカ社会を内側から崩壊させる計画が静かに進行していく。
共和党大統領候補ジャスティン・ブラッドフォードがマディソン・スクエア・ガーデンで演説中に狙撃され、ほぼ同時刻、ロサンゼルスでは前大統領オーウェン・リードもまた、民主党候補ライアン・ベネットの集会で撃たれる。
国家を二分する双方向の暗殺。だが、ジャスティンは奇跡的に生還する。
彼の血液型は、世界でわずか250万人に一人といわれる「ボンベイブラッド」。
その希少な血を提供できたのは、ブルックリンで活動するコミュニティアート・ファシリテーター、アナヤ・パテルだった。
彼女の血液はベルビュー病院の血液バンクに保存されており、緊急輸血によって、候補者の命はかろうじて繋がれた。
シークレットサービスのジャック・バンスは、テロの背後にガザ出身の組織が関与していることを察知し、FBIロサンゼルス支局長官キャメロン・バートレット、ニューヨーク支局の特別捜査官ヴェロニカ・リーブスと共に捜査を進める。
やがて彼らは、イスラム大学で建築学を学んだラフィ・ガンナムが、ロサンゼルスやニューヨークの再開発現場に潜入し、梁や構造体の中枢にC4爆薬を仕込んでいた事実に辿り着く。
標的は、ICE（移民・関税執行局）やERO（執行・送還作戦部門）の職員が暮らす新興住宅街——すなわち、「アメリカが築いた秩序」そのものだった。
ヴェロニカは、これ以上の破壊を防ぐため、大統領への対話を進言するが、現職のグラント・ランフォード大統領は耳を貸さない。
一方、命を取り留めたジャスティンと民主党候補ライアンは、テレビを通じて国民に訴えかけ、分断を乗り越えようとする。
だが、その理性の声を嘲笑うかのように、グラントはアイオワ州での演説を強行し、「テロには屈しない」と宣言する。
その会場には、すでにラフィの仲間が率いる工作チームが潜入していた。
崩壊する会場の惨状を前に、仲間の一人アミール・ナッセルは、かつてガザで妹を失った記憶に引き裂かれ、破壊の連鎖を止めようとする。
だが、ラフィの信念は揺るがない。
ウィリアムズバーグ橋の下、夕暮れの喧騒のなか、二人は決別する。
それは、祈りと報復、希望と虚無の境界線だった——。
“登場人物”
アナヤ・パテル ２５歳 コミュニティアート・ファシリテーター
アルジュン・シン ２６歳 アナヤの恋人・ルミナテック・イノベーションズ社
佐藤 ミカ ２５歳 アナの友人・コミュニティアート・ファシリテーター
ジャスティン・ブラッドフォード ２７歳 共和党大統領候補
エリノア・ブレイク ２６歳 ジャスティンの婚約者
グラント・M・ランフォード大統領 ６１歳 共和党大統領現職
チャールズ・ベインズ副大統領 ６４歳 共和党副大統領現職
ライアン・ベネット ３０歳 民主党大統領候補
ソフィア・ベネット ３０歳 ライアンの妻
オーウェン・リード ６５歳 民主党前大統領
ジャック・バンス ４５歳 シークレットサービス 元FBIロサンゼルス支局
ベン・ホロウェイ ３０歳 ジャックの同僚
ダリル・ロス ２９歳 ジャックの同僚
イライジャ・ケイン ２８歳 ジャックの同僚
マーカス・デイン ４５歳 FBI ロサンゼルス支局
キャメロン・バートレット ５５歳 FBI ロサンゼルス支局 支局長
トム・コールドウェル ３８歳 FBI技術班 マーカスの部下
ヴェロニカ・リーヴス ４１歳 FBI特別捜査官
アレクサンダー・ハリス ５２歳 FBI ニューヨーク支局 支局長
エリオット・チェン ３６歳 テクノロジー班主任
アリシア・モンロー ５８歳 FBI長官
ザカリア・ハッダード ５１歳 パレスチナ・ガザ地区 元イスラム大学 工学部教授 ニューヨークチーム
アミール・ナッセル ２３歳 パレスチナ・ガザ地区 元イスラム大学 電子工学部 ニューヨークチーム
ラフィ・ガンナム ３２歳 パレスチナ・ガザ地区 イスラム大学 建築学部 ニューヨークチーム
ロハン・シャー ２９歳 パレスチナ・ガザ地区 イスラム大学 建築学部 ニューヨークチーム
マジード・ハムザ ４７歳 パレスチナ・ガザ地区 パレスチナ大学 情報技術学部 ロサンゼルスチーム
サミラ・ハンマド ２８歳 パレスチナ・ガザ地区 パレスチナ大学 工学部 ロサンゼルスチーム
サイード・カバリ ３５歳 パレスチナ・ガザ地区 パレスチナ大学 経営学部 ロサンゼルスチーム
リーム・ナセル ３０歳 パレスチナ・ガザ地区 パレスチナ大学 メディア学部 ロサンゼルスチーム
ノア・レヴィ 55歳 イスラエル テルアビブ在住 ユダヤ人
僕のこの小説は、来年、２０２６年２月末日に公開します。
先日、リドリースコット監督がサブスクの映画やドラマ群がつまらないと話していたようだけど、同感です。
僕も非常に退屈です。
それらに2時間を要するなら、僕の小説を２分間だけ読んで欲しい。
その2分間は、２時間を越えるでしょう。
僕は自信があります。
ぜひ、期待してお待ちください。
Mitsushiro Nakagawa
09th. Oct . 2025.
追伸
ネトフリに挑戦する男、みっちゃん。😃
Newark Liberty International Airport
3 Brewster Rd., Newark, NJ 07114, USA 2017. … 9 / 10
(今日の写真。それは未発表済みです。しかし最近、オリジナルから再編集しています。）
Images.
21 Savage, Summer Walker - prove it
youtu.be/oa8kjoT-MrM?si=dfInglve15lOZ-if
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
僕の新しい小説。
B♭ （ビーフラット）
舞台はニューヨークです。
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54829426478/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54811315069/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54686544606/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54628511025/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54599616429/in/dateposted...
Soundtrack.
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack/pl.u-47...
For japanese
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack-for-jap...
iTunes Playlist Link::
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b/pl.u-47DJGhopxMD
For japanese
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack-for-jap...
追記 この小説を多少説明しました。
youtu.be/3w65lqUF-YI?si=yG7qy6TPeCL9xRJV
メモ
1
「Bombay型（ボンベイ型、hh型）」
•特徴：通常のABO血液型を持たない（A、B、Oに分類されない）特殊な型。
•発見地：1952年、インド・ムンバイ（旧ボンベイ）で初めて確認。
•発生頻度：インドでは1万人に1人程度だが、世界的には約250万人に1人とも。
•輸血制限：同じBombay型しか輸血できない。
2
2024年ハーバード大学首席の卒業式スピーチ『知らないことの力』
youtu.be/SOUH8iVqSOI?si=Ju-Y728irtcWR71K
3
Shots fired at Trump rally
youtu.be/1ejfAkzjEhk?si=ASqJwEmkY-2rW_hT
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a short storyish thing. please don't copy and paste this:
Somewhere, there is a house whose roof is alight with fireflies. Each insect pulses simultaneously, their tails like little flames, strings of forgotten Christmas lights engulfing every weathered tile. This is a place as similar to rural America as a place that is not America could possibly be. The grass hasn’t been cut in a decade, and twists up the porch in tendrils, like dancers’ legs. Cicadas shed their old skins and thread the air with their music; each stitch of wind sticks to passerby’s throats and fills them with the taste of newness, something just on the threshold of being reached and ineffable except for the taste of raw honey it leaves on their tongues as they turn the corner and the house disappears out of sight. There are nettles hidden in this yard, braided to the undergrowth and connected to the ground with a network of pincers.
The nettles only claimed their place after the yard became wild; perhaps the threat of being punctured by their thorns has kept the owners of the house from mowing the grass. Inevitably, this becomes a cycle, as the grass becomes longer, the nettles become more confident in their tangled hiding places, reaching out their spiked tendrils like a sleeper in bed who is looking for a cool place to lie on the sweat-stained sheets. We all look like starfishes sleeping, when we are truly in that black hole where there are no dreams and the air we breathe within that dream-that-is-not-a-dream is that absent gray snuff that rises off an extinguished candle.
Mold binds the seam of each wall together, forming the rooms and corridors and closets and gluing them into one house, rooms stacked straight above the other like a kingdom of paper cards. Sometimes, in heat waves, the floors look like they’re wobbling, succumbing to the breathless climate and melting like wax. But these are only the shimmers in the air that everyone has seen at one point, usually at barbecues when charcoal is burning.
On the top floor, the ceiling is so slanted that gangly teenagers searching for refuge have to bend at nearly perpendicular angles to avoid hitting their heads. They sit in circles, breathing violet-colored smoke from a pipe that they pass around; they numb themselves to their imminent deaths as children. They ignore the fact that soon they will be reborn as adults and they will not even stop to remember the baby, child, or teenager that once stood in their place. By the time we reach adulthood, we are made up of entirely different cells than the ones that we had at birth. Our dreams, along with our cells, have been completely replaced, and there is no reason to continue the ruse that we are still the same person we were ten years ago. Each second, someone dies and an older someone takes our place, one who looks exactly the same except for a broken blood vessel in their eye which has been brought on by tiredness. Right before they change forever, the teenagers in the attic are suddenly enlightened; they come to know all of this as they breathe out a puff of their violet-stained air.
Every morning, the Twilight children are still asleep, huddled behind cardboard boxes that have been left to rot in a room that no one cares about. They are asleep and so they never see that the single attic window is opaque and white, painted with mist that has been breathed onto the glass by stillborn babies at a time where everyone, even the cicada, are asleep. The attic is a place for things that don’t quite have a place. It is a room that is quite beautiful at 3:45 in the morning, when the light is gold and untouched by dust-motes. But half of the stuff in dust-motes is faerie dust that has seeped through the sacks tied around the willowy waists of a nymph. This is a fact that seems too clichéd and idyllic to be true, but is nonetheless as sure as the moon having empty seas called maria. In fact, there is a man looking through his telescope on the porch, and the great metal tube sends his eyes light-years into the universe. His pupils are thrust open by starlight, he sees the dust-filled oceans in perfect illumination. There is a house at the bottom of one, at latitude twenty-eight and longitude seventeen. The roof is covered with fireflies that look like Christmas lights, and he thinks that perhaps it is the house of a martian.
Source: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grand_Canyon
The Grand Canyon is a steep-sided canyon carved by the Colorado River in Arizona, United States. The Grand Canyon is 277 miles (446 km) long, up to 18 miles (29 km) wide and attains a depth of over a mile (6,093 feet or 1,857 meters).
The canyon and adjacent rim are contained within Grand Canyon National Park, the Kaibab National Forest, Grand Canyon–Parashant National Monument, the Hualapai Indian Reservation, the Havasupai Indian Reservation and the Navajo Nation. The surrounding area is contained within the Baaj Nwaavjo I'tah Kukveni – Ancestral Footprints of the Grand Canyon National Monument. President Theodore Roosevelt was a major proponent of the preservation of the Grand Canyon area and visited it on numerous occasions to hunt and enjoy the scenery.
Nearly two billion years of Earth's geological history have been exposed as the Colorado River and its tributaries cut their channels through layer after layer of rock while the Colorado Plateau was uplifted. While some aspects about the history of incision of the canyon are debated by geologists, several recent studies support the hypothesis that the Colorado River established its course through the area about 5 to 6 million years ago. Since that time, the Colorado River has driven the down-cutting of the tributaries and retreat of the cliffs, simultaneously deepening and widening the canyon.
For thousands of years, the area has been continuously inhabited by Native Americans, who built settlements within the canyon and its many caves. The Pueblo people considered the Grand Canyon a holy site, and made pilgrimages to it. The first European known to have viewed the Grand Canyon was García López de Cárdenas from Spain, who arrived in 1540.
Source: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grand_Canyon_National_Park
Grand Canyon National Park is a national park of the United States located in northwestern Arizona, the 15th site to have been named as a national park. The park's central feature is the Grand Canyon, a gorge of the Colorado River, which is often considered one of the Wonders of the World. The park, which covers 1,217,262 acres (1,901.972 sq mi; 4,926.08 km2) of unincorporated area in Coconino and Mohave counties, received more than 4.7 million recreational visitors in 2023. The Grand Canyon was designated a World Heritage Site by UNESCO in 1979. The park celebrated its 100th anniversary on February 26, 2019.
Source: www.nps.gov/grca/index.htm
Entirely within the state of Arizona, the park encompasses 278 miles (447 km) of the Colorado River and adjacent uplands. Located on the ancestral homelands of 11 present day Tribal Communities, Grand Canyon is one of the most spectacular examples of erosion anywhere in the world—a mile deep canyon unmatched in the incomparable vistas it offers visitors from both north and south rims.
Additional Foreign Language Tags:
(United States) "الولايات المتحدة" "Vereinigte Staaten" "アメリカ" "米国" "美国" "미국" "Estados Unidos" "États-Unis" "ארצות הברית" "संयुक्त राज्य" "США"
(Arizona) "أريزونا" "亚利桑那州" "אריזונה" "एरिजोना" "アリゾナ州" "애리조나" "Аризона"
(Grand Canyon) "جراند كانيون" "大峡谷" "גרנד קניון" "ग्रांड कैन्यन" "グランドキャニオン" "그랜드 캐니언" "Гранд-Каньон" "Gran Cañón"
After the NGRF's simultaneous attacks on numerous North American Union (NAU) embassies, the Union was finally prompted to enter into the war. The Panthera was their first full production VCS but not far behind it was the Lanius.
The Lanius is one of the very few Variable VCS (VVCS) units. It was designed to be a VCS unit that could be deployed from aircraft carriers to strike at long-distance targets. The Lanius is comparable to the URE's Shrike II, but more heavily armored at the cost of maneuverability in VCS mode. It is capable of carrying a variety of different ordnance, in addition to different weapons for use in VCS mode. It has seen success in making strikes on NGRF trade routes in the Mediterranean, as well as attacking coastal targets in Italy and the Balkan Peninsula.
This is the result of a longstanding urge to build a decent jetformer that transforms into something more reminiscent of an actual jet than stuff like the Shrike II. This transforms entirely without removing parts aside from the missiles & guns. I'm very happy with the jet mode but the amount of kibble on the robot mode's back could be better. I also wish that I could have made the cockpit accessible in both forms, but as it stands it only works in the robot mode. The bottom of the model doesn't look too bad in jet mode, although the head is still pretty visible. The Lanius does feature working landing gear, and the front one even has an opening hatch accompanying it!
I had so many pictures of this model and I didn't want to clutter up my photostream too much with them, so you can view the rest in this Imgur album. Let me know if the link doesn't work.