They feed him chocolate cake and the prom date takes the astronaut outside for a kiss. He goes to sleep in an exact replica of the family house, his brother in the next bed. Only when he decides he should go back to the ship to radio a report back to Earth does his brother reveal that he and the whole cast of this little scene are Martians . It's all been an illusion, a seductive stage set built by telepathy in the mind of each astronaut. These mindgames were the only defence the Martians could mount against invaders from a planet with superior weapons.
Japanese people are Martian too.
Like the long-robed inhabitants of the red planet in the Ray Bradbury movie, they're constantly struggling against invasion by barbarian gaijin, outsiders with inferior cultures but superior fire power. Like the Martians, Japanese resort to subtle mental seduction rather than outright combat. They get into your mind, charming it with familiar scenes made only slightly strange by the thin Martian air. The great capital city of their planet, Tokyo, in reality a grim sprawl of concrete boxes, becomes in your mind a succession of pleasant and reassuring images from youth. Every time I manage to live a few fragile months someplace warm, exotic and creative, it always reminds me of Athens, 1970.