Yobu Tsukibashira paused under the vermilion torii and bowed to the Bakuza officer on duty. The immense wooden gate framed the entrance to the Japanese Embassy at 42nd Street and First Avenue. The white gravel crunched under his geta as he strolled down the drive and out into the street.

It was dusk, and the Amish lamplighters with their long tinders were almost finished with the gas lights on 42nd Street. A century ago, in the early days of the Amish migration, the Amishmen who remained behind in Lancaster had found a way to harness the fumes of natural dung and had built a pipeline to the new city. Although the orthodox still strictly upheld the ban on electricity (and the Bakuza enforced it), the Amish had found ingenious and very practical uses for the great volume of natural gas emanating from Lancaster County.

A half-hour’s walk brought Yobu within sight of Madison Square Garden. A huge red wooden barn, complete with silo, stood astride the old coliseum. Street vendors outside the entrance hawked their wares, with the traditional seven sweets and seven sours. Inside the amphitheater shops surrounded the simple, but enormous, wooden platform at the center. Amish merchants offered handcrafted dung bunnies from Lancaster, braided rugs from Ohio, honey from Ontario, quilts from Indiana, and marijuana from Mexico.

Yobu paused for a moment, checked his ticket, and started down to his ringside seat. He bowed politely to the pretty Amish woman who was already in her seat next to him. She smiled, and looked away. The gas lights began to dim as the gaily costumed players began to file on stage.