Murakami includes interviews with many members of the Tokyo subway's staff, who did not learn about the attack until it was too late. Their mistakes in handling the bags of liquid Sarin, including mopping it up with newspaper and leaving the newspapers in trash cans, where the fumes incapacitated even more passengers, cannot be described as inept, for many subway employees died or were permanently disabled by the effects of the Sarin. By letting the Sarin victims speak for themselves, Murakami maintains an objective distance. But the stories of these ordinary, working people, as they begin to layer upon one another, go further than showing that Aum physically harmed and murdered innocents. After reading the first portion of Underground , the subcutaneous story that takes shape is one that clarifies the violence that was done to Japanese society as a result of the attack.
Japan has one of the lowest criminal rates in the world.
So the collective resistance to the unfolding reality of the Aum attack makes sense. Not since the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki had the Japanese suffered such a national tragedy, and the pervasive tone that runs through Underground is one of stunned disbelief. Here, Murakami is more of an active participant, occasionally arguing with the Aum members during interviews, contesting their beliefs. I have met some of the victims, many of whom continue to suffer, and I have personally seen those whose loved ones were stolen from them forever. In fact, the members of Aum, even after the disgrace of the Sarin attack and the dismissal of Asahara as their leader, are still extremely elitist in their belief in the superiority of Aum.