That night Scott was waiting for me at the Net chess site. I went to the table where his screen name was displayed and, before I could even say hello, he asked,
>>Did you figure out the puzzle?
I hadn't been able to think of a solution, so I tried the water-pistol story that my father had come up with. I added that this probably wasn't the right solution, but Scott seemed to get a kick out of it.
>>Oh, I never thought of that. It's an unusual explanation—shrewd reasoning.
As a reward, possibly, he let me have a two-move advantage in our chess match. I was playing white, and in response to my first two moves Scott, playing black, moved out one of his knights and then moved it back again, which left his pieces in their original setup.
>>At times like this the knight is handier than the keima in shogi, isn't it.
>>Right, because the keima can't move backward.
After that the game proceeded normally, but I had gotten the upper hand in the opening. White moves first, and with that advantage and the additional assistance of a two-move handicap I was able to penetrate black's territory and check his king. Just then we were joined by a spectator, to whom it may have appeared that I was a better player than Scott.
I resumed our conversation.
>>By the way, what's the answer? To the story about the bar and the gun, I mean.
>>Oh right, I forgot. The solution to the mystery.
Before he began explaining it to me, Scott made another move, one that both protected his king and cut off my invading queen's line of retreat.
While I pondered my predicament Scott repeated the story, so that the person following our game would know what we were talking about, he said. For someone who could strike such a cruel blow on the chess board, he seemed to be a very considerate person.
>>What you really should do at this point is put together some clues by asking questions, to expand your imagination. But you'd rather find out the answer now, right?
>>Right. I think I'm about to lose this chess game.
>>You shouldn't give up, but I shouldn't prolong the mystery either. Are you ready, spectator?
There was no answer; the spectator hadn't said anything the whole time. He or she was probably just watching the chess game and paying no attention to the chat window, so there didn't seem to be any point in worrying about the spectator.
>>Okay. Here comes the solution.
Imitating the style of a detective-story comic book, possibly, Scott paused for effect.
>>The man who walked into the bar had the hiccups and wanted to get rid of them. That's why he wanted some water.
>>Aha! He was going to drink water to stop his hiccups.
>>That's right. But after he was startled by the gun, his hiccups were cured. He didn't need the water anymore.
And that's why he said thank you and left. It would have been more polite to stay and order a drink as a gesture of gratitude, but basically it was a logical and convincing solution. While I absorbed it, admiringly, I made my next move on the chessboard, and that's when our previously silent spectator spoke up.
>>Hold it. That's ridiculous.
For a second I thought this was a comment on my last move. I had given up on rescuing my queen and was trying to bring in a rook to join the attack. The spectator's objection, however, was directed not at me but at Scott.
>>How does getting scared by a gun stop someone's hiccups? That's got nothing to do with anything.
Coming from someone who had entered the conversation without even saying hello, this sounded pretty belligerent. It was probably one of those insolent people you sometimes come across on the Internet who try to pick fights with everyone else. These rude remarks didn't seem to bother Scott, though. I thought maybe his Japanese wasn't good enough for him to realize how insulting they were, but he was interested in something else entirely.
>>Hm. I'd say it's possible you're not from Japan. Is that right?
>>So?
>>I'm sorry if my asking that bothers you. I'm an American. In Japan, I guess you're a foreigner, too.
There was an extended pause before the spectator replied.
>>Nationality's Chinese. But I've lived in Japan.
>>Ah. Well, your Japanese is better than mine.
On the chessboard Scott went on the attack, while in the chat window he explained to the Chinese newcomer about differences in customs concerned with hiccups. Curing someone's hiccups by startling him or her was a tradition in Japan and the United States, but one that didn't seem to have much currency in China. The spectator, whose name was Zhang, didn't find this very convincing.
>>That method's a superstition. Startling is a problem of the spirit, but hiccups are problem of the body.
I sided with Scott.
>>But when you're startled you inhale quickly. That can probably change the rhythm of your breathing, which can make the hiccups stop.
I thought that was a logical explanation, if I do say so myself, but Zhang stubbornly insisted that it was all superstition. Eventually he conceded that startling someone might cure their hiccups, but he still kept complaining that this problem about a gun in a bar was only comprehensible to people from America or Japan, and claimed that the puzzle was poorly constructed. Scott merely apologized.
>>I'm sorry for that. Next time I'll think about Chinese people too.
It was a bit strange, though, for Scott to be apologizing. The issue had originally come up in a conversation between Scott, an American, and me, a Japanese guy. There was no reason why we should have had to put up with some other guy who showed up later making a lot of objections.
This Zhang was apparently proficient in Japanese, so I decided to drop a snide remark of my own.
>>If you have so many complaints, why don't you come up with a puzzle yourself?
I said this thinking he'd never be able to do it, but Zhang agreed without hesitation. When asked, he explained that he was an aspiring movie and television screenwriter, and thinking up a little story like this was the easiest thing in the world, he said. The story he came up with was called “Mystery Coin.”
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A foreigner traveling overseas for the first time arrives in Japan. With the aid of a dictionary he reads a sign posted near a pond in a resort area. Then he takes a hundred-yen coin out of his wallet, turns toward the pond, and throws it in.
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>>You figure out why he threw the hundred yen into the pond.
The story may have been presented in a haughty manner, but it was an even more vexing puzzle than the one about the gun in the bar. Scott had some questions, which got a cold reception from Zhang.
>>Does it have to be a hundred-yen coin? Does this have anything to do with the Trevi Fountain?
>>No hints.
The chess game had continued during this exchange as well, and as expected, I lost. I wasn't much of an opponent. I thought I'd give up my seat to Zhang, but before I could tell him, he had a few more defiant words for us.
>>If we meet again I'll let you have the answer.
With that, Zhang's name disappeared from the screen. He'd logged out, and I was about to spend another night wrapped up in a mystery I couldn't solve.
Edited by Japan Echo Inc.