TOKYO - 8:42 AM

A baby G-Shock on the wrist of the college student standing beside me is keeping every second quietly and digitally. I’m packed into a Chuo-Line train heading for Shinjuku Station. It’s so tight I cannot even move my arms. The smell of sweat, perfume and shampoo blend in the air of early summer.

During the morning rush hour here in Tokyo, “train” is another word for “battlefield,” with girls hurrying on their make-up, salary men obsessively reading their newspapers (each folded in a certain way), college students emotionlessly rocking to their iPod shuffle, and high school kids hopelessly preparing for the college exam. I’m on my way to my office in Roppongi, where I work as a software developer at an IT company.

Suddenly the train slows down and stops. We have not reached the next station yet. An announcement comes in.

“There was an accident involving physical injury at Nakano Station, we are expecting 5 minutes delay.”

The train is filled with waves of sighs. And then everyone catches their breath and pretends that everything is okay. No one dares to express it explicitly, but I hear their minds:

“Oh, that’s just great. I’m going to be late for work because someone tried to kill himself..”

In Tokyo, we all know that “accidents involving physical injury” often imply that someone has attempted suicide by jumping in front of a train. It’s a sad detail; it also makes for late trains. In this city where time is master, which one is more important, the life or death of a total stranger or me being a good dedicated worker who is always punctual?

At first, the life or death of the stranger seems more important. The first time you experience such a delay on the train, you have compassion. Second, third, fourth, fifth time, you’d get used to it and feel less compassion. From there on—gradually but surely—you merely get annoyed. It is a lesson taught by “the city of future”, as Radiohead called Tokyo. A lesson learned by most Tokyo residents.

According to the stats, 32,325 people committed suicide in Japan in 2004.. That’s approximately 88 per a day. Forty percent (13,402 people) of them were men between 30 and 50. Nearly 22 percent (7,015 people) were men over 60, and 28% (9,053) were women. Thought they don’t stream into convenience stores quite as fast as new products, suicide methods change, modernize.

The recent trend, the hot new method, is group suicide performed inside a tightly sealed car with a burning charcoal stove. The victims die of carbon monoxide poisoning. Often, these people meet through so-called “suicide Web sites” which are created for people to find death partners The charcoal stove method is said to be suitable for those who wish to exit silently from this world. Fifty-five people succeeded in committing suicide this way in 2004.

But the train method is still popular for those who wish to create chaos on their way out, those who are feeling so trapped that they cannot think of the consequences. It provides an instant cure for suicidal commuters, and they often do it without planning. They simply let themselves get “sucked in” as the train rolls by.

So, where was I? Oh, yes. So, an anonymous life. And why should I be concerned?

Even with frequent suicides, Japanese passengers expect to be precisely on time. After all, at least 90 percent of the population relies on train services. People plan their lives assuming that trains will always be on time. And with 3.5 million people using Shinjuku Station daily, government planners have even taken transfers between trains into consideration precisely and tightly in order to create the most efficient schedule. All of this means that when one thing goes wrong, many other things go wrong.

My train is now filled with silence, a violent kind of silence. And, of course, I'm part of it.

I have been working without much sleep for four weeks, preparing for today’s final proposal for an electronic company called Phonosonic, one of the top software brands worldwide. Our company develops and sells system network software called “Zig-Zag” which administers schedules, e-mails, all the Microsoft programs, Adobe programs and others. It has integrated all functions of Microsoft programs and other programs into one program. And it has been a huge success.

Last year, our company grew three times larger. I’m working twice as much as before and making 40 percent more money. If Phonosonic accepts our proposal, they will be my company’s biggest client. I am literally itching to get to work today. I simply cannot be late because the train was "delayed”.

You may recall hearing about a devastating train accident in April 2005, as it was probably the latest event in Japan to make it into world news. An express train on Takarazuka Line in Hyogo Prefecture derailed, killing 107 passengers. It was the worst accident in the history of Japan Railways. Ryujiro Takami, the train operator, was 23 years old with only a year or so of experience. The cause of the accident was said to be speeding.

In Japan, train drivers are always under enormous pressure to be on time. When trains run behind the schedule, operators are supposed to make up the lost time. This is called a “recovery operation.”

The procedures of a recovery operation are quite simple:

1. Pick up as much speed as possible when traveling on a straightaway.

2. Delay braking when approaching a curve.

“How well [a driver] can “recover” the delayed time is a scale used to evaluate how skilled they are,” Takami revealed to a long time friend. Last June, Takami overran a station by 100 meters and he had received a warning. He was forced to write essays and reports repenting on his misconduct. This led him to a pretty severe depression. To put yet more pressure on his shoulders, he was on the verge of losing his position if he made another mistake.

Minutes before the accident, Takami overran a station by 40 meters.

As a result, he was 90 seconds behind schedule, which is more than enough time for a number of passengers to miss their connecting transfer at the next stop. In order to recover time, he picked up as much speed as possible.

He maintained a speed of 123 kph (about 75 mph) even as he was approaching a curve, where the speed limit is 70 kph (about 45 mph). He hit the brake twice to reduce the speed, but the train, tilted up onto one side, ran 50 meters before it derailed.

As Takami left the station, there were 3 possible scenarios left for him.

1. If he recovered the time by speeding, then everything would be okay, and he’d still have his job.

2. If he failed to recover the time, then he’d lose his job, and he could conceivably decide to take his own life.

3. If the train got into an accident, the only real difference to him would be that would die in it, or die later, by suicide.

He decided to take chances. Anyone with a logical mind might have done it.

8:44 AM
No one dares to utter a word on my train, as if everyone had agreed to save the limited amount of oxygen. Baby G-Shock is keeping time precisely and relentlessly. All I can hear is electronic drum shuffles pouring out from headphones worn by the Baby G-Shock’s owner. A man keeps leaning into me. He is sleeping while standing up. The train is so packed that he cannot fall down.

8:47AM
Another announcement comes in: “Safety measures have been confirmed, we’ll soon be moving, we apologize for any inconveniences it may have caused. Thank you for your patience and cooperation.”

The announcement finished, the wheels are set in motion once again. Everyone sighs in relief. After all, we are all professionals, we’ve got work to do, procedures to follow, meetings to attend, money to make, and I have a final proposal to present this morning.

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