My First Fan Letter #ShortStory

"Did you get a fan letter?"
My senior colleague spoke to me with a smirk. It was the first letter I had ever received from a reader—

It had been six months since I switched jobs from being a manufacturer's engineer to an editorial reporter for an industry magazine. Although I had gotten somewhat used to it, my days were still filled with anxiety and constant learning. Then one day, the editor-in-chief handed me a strangely thick envelope addressed to the editorial department. With a beaming smile, he said, "It's a fan letter."

To think someone would send a letter by post instead of email these days. And to such a niche magazine that only industry insiders read, at that.

I immediately returned to my desk to check it. Inside the envelope was a sheet of A4 printer paper folded multiple times. I carefully took it out and unfolded it, and at the top, it read, "Dear Editorial Department, Mr. [My Name]." No way!
My senior colleague immediately called out from behind me, "Let me see that too," and started reading it out loud on purpose.

"Oh, addressed to you by name, that's impressive. Let's see... 'I always find your magazine's articles very interesting and learn a lot as an engineer. Also, I look forward to Mr. [My Name]'s recent articles.' Oh my, oh my!"
My senior colleague covered his mouth. He didn't have to laugh at that part. It was true that my desk (the deputy editor-in-chief) still rewrote most of my drafts. So, even though it was a signed article, I didn't really feel like it was my own work. I was happy to be looked forward to, but honestly, it was a complicated feeling.

"...However, I was honestly disappointed with the editor's note in the latest issue. Huh? Not the article, but the editor's note?"
From there, my senior colleague stopped reading aloud and started reading it intently himself. I could feel my face stiffening.
"...Therefore, please reconsider your understanding. Note that no correction to the editor's note is necessary. Please keep working hard."
My senior colleague only read the last part out loud.

—The first letter from a reader wasn't about the article I was in charge of, but a comment about an editor's note that was only five lines long...
"...This is something."
"Is this, after all, a complaint?"
"Hmm... I wonder."
"Unlike the articles, the editor's note is the text I wrote exactly as is, isn't it?"
"Does that make it even more of a shock?"
"...I suppose so."

What I wrote in the editor's note was something like this: I started by saying that the name of the computer HAL in the movie '2001: A Space Odyssey' is said to have been named after the company IBM... and then I mentioned the advanced nature of the new AI I had covered. There is a famous anecdote that if you shift each letter of IBM one position forward, you get HAL, so it was a naming choice that anticipated the future. I thought I had written my impressions of covering the latest AI with a bit of humor. In fact, it was published as is, without any red ink from the desk. Come to think of it, it was the first piece of writing I had published in the magazine that I had written entirely by myself.

However, the letter from the reader went on and on, saying, "It is a mistake to say that HAL was named after IBM. Both the original author, Clarke, and the director, Kubrick, have denied it. Please study more."

Because the criticism was so unexpected, the joy of receiving a letter had blown away. Indeed, when I checked online, it was just as the letter pointed out. The anecdote was just my own assumption. Well, I don't know the truth, but I have to admit that it was careless of me to write it without checking.

"Should I issue a correction in the next issue for this?"
"It's an editor's note. You can just leave it alone."
"Hmm..."
The letter also said no correction was necessary. But that actually makes me more concerned.
"...Even so, the person who wrote this is quite strict."
My senior colleague muttered suddenly.
"They did write that they are an engineer, after all."
"No... this strictness, it kind of hits home."
"Huh?"
"There seems to be a reason why they went to the trouble of sending it by mail."
Even if it was by mail, it wasn't a handwritten letter, but printed on A4 printer paper. I don't really understand.
"They must have been really angry, for sure."
"You think so...?"
While saying that, my senior colleague picked up the envelope and turned it over.
"...Huh, there's no sender's name. No address written either."
I hadn't even checked that because I was so overwhelmed. When I hurriedly looked at the stamp on the front, it was a Yokohama postmark.
Yokohama—? I have absolutely no idea.
My senior colleague was thinking about something while looking into the distance, but—
"An anonymous letter, huh. Well, it's your first fan letter, so keep it safe," he said, pushing the envelope onto me—

◇

It wasn't until several years later that I finally got a clue about that letter.

When I was drinking with a university classmate, I heard that our laboratory professor had lived in Yokohama. I immediately remembered the letter.

The university laboratory I was in specialized in computer control. The professor in charge was strict with his guidance, but he was also caring and had a warm heart. It was possible that that professor had written such a letter. That must be it. He happened to see his former student's name in a magazine he picked up and sent a letter to cheer me on. But he withheld his name—that's what I imagined.

I want to know the professor's exact home address. If he is still alive, I want to meet him and confirm it. If possible, I want to show him how I look now, having become a bit more like a reporter. I figured if I went to my parents' house, there should be an address book or something.

Having taken paid leave, I headed to my parents' house with the envelope the editor-in-chief had given me at that time. It was a housing complex in Chiba where my mother lived alone. "I moved all your things to your father's study," she said, so I entered my father's study—no, the room that had now become a storage room.

My father's room was quite messy. Cardboard boxes, books, and bags were piled up carelessly. Even though my father was no longer here, I thought, 'You could at least clean up a little,' while finding a cardboard box containing materials from my university days in the back. That's it, the address book should be in there. I pushed aside the luggage, reached the cardboard box, and checked the contents.

Found it! The laboratory's address book. With this, the mystery of that letter will be solved. Suppressing my racing heart, I opened the page and traced the professor's name with my finger.

—Kamakura City, Kanagawa Prefecture

However, that was what was written next to the professor's name. Not Yokohama. My spirits plummeted all at once, and I sat down.

In the end, was my classmate's information wrong? Was it some kind of mistake? I went to the trouble of taking time off and coming all the way here...

At that moment, other stacked cardboard boxes lost their balance and collapsed with a thud. The things inside the top box scattered across the floor.
"Oh, I messed up."
As I muttered that and picked up the scattered items—

It was our magazine. And an old one at that. From around the time I changed jobs...

When I looked inside the cardboard box, I saw an old printer. There was also unused A4 printer paper inside. This paper is...

Come to think of it, I heard from my mother that after my father retired, he bought a computer and a printer, saying it was for his enjoyment in his later years.

My father's workplace was... if I recall correctly, it was over in Yokohama—

<End>

(From the author)
This is another story featuring the protagonist of this work. I would be happy if you could read it as well. They are loosely connected, but can be read independently.

Spin-off work