“And after you do something like that, the everyday look of things might seem to change a little. Things may look different to you than they did before. I’ve had that experience myself. But don’t let appearances fool you. There’s always only one reality.”

This marks the point at which Aomame crosses over from 1984 to 1Q84, setting in motion the plot of the novel. Whether Aomame was swept up passively into the flow of 1Q84, or whether she has some agency in the crossing, is an open question pondered by the character later in the book. Here, the taxi driver suggests that by breaking the rules of society—in this case, getting out of a car on the freeway—one chooses to enter a world where logic and reason hold little sway. In the same breath, however, the driver points out that there is “only one reality,” suggesting that the differences between 1984 and 1Q84 are largely a matter of perception.

“She was aware that she had become split in two. Half of her continued to press the dead man’s neck with utter coolness. The other half was filled with fear. She wanted to drop everything and get out of this room now. I’m here, but I’m not here. I’m in two places at once. It goes against Einstein’s theorem, but what the hell. Call it the Zen of the killer.”

Throughout the book, the motif of two worlds—1984 and 1Q84—is paired with the idea that each person’s identity, their soul even, may be split in two at any given moment. This underlies the concept of the maza and dohta, the two entities that emerge when an air chrysalis splits an individual in half. In addition, this quote gestures at one of Murakami’s central themes: the juxtaposition of brutality and religion—in this case, Buddhism.