UFOs in the land of the rising sun

Soon Satoru brings out the UFO ramen itself. This being Japan, where attention to detail is crucial, the chef hasn't slapped a UFO moniker on any old bowl of noodles -- Satoru's creation is a miniature Spielbergian epic in a bowl. Every item in the broth represents some aspect of an alien visitation: That large clam is the ship; the baby squid, the alien. A slice of egg is the moon; ribbons of seaweed, the dark night. Even the little sprouts are blades of grass blown back by the spaceship's mighty engines. (Those would be the fish cakes with the pink swirls.) All this for a reasonable price, and damned tasty too. Satoru obligingly poses for our photos in front of the shop, and then we head out to find the main attraction.

In a field near the edge of town stands a towering Redstone booster rocket, the type that sent Mercury capsules into space. Behind it squats the Cosmo Isle museum -- saucer-shaped, of course (although a pork barrel design would also have worked).

Once inside, you'd have to say the government got its money's worth. Takano's facility has drawn tens of thousands to Hakui City to take in its canny blend of legitimate space exploration displays and full-on, Mulder-style extraterrestrial theorizing. Among other items, NASA coughed up a spare lunar module, a lunar rover, a Mercury capsule and the spacesuit of Eugene Cernan, the last man to walk on the moon. The Russians contributed a Luna 24 probe of the type that retrieved samples of moon dust and, most impressively, a spherical Vostok capsule that actually took a cosmonaut beyond the surly bonds of Earth in 1967. "I have many friends in NASA," Takano says by way of explanation, "and a friend who was in the KGB." He must know somebody in Hollywood, too -- Cosmo Isle boasts Tom Hanks' prop spacesuit trunk from "Apollo 13."

All well and good for the human exhibits. But the conspiracy demographic is interested in different species. Takano has that covered, too. Visitors can peruse an actual FBI X-file and a thick binder of declassified CIA reports on saucer sightings and their possible security implications. Other Cosmo Isle displays feature the scientific work of SETI, the Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence.

Takano's engineering background is evident in the dry video loops of eminent professors who analyze UFO photos or postulate on the unlikelihood of ball lightning being mistaken for flying saucers. Here the museum takes on the earnest tone of the zealot who buttonholes you at a party to expound on Area 51 -- at least, until you get into the elevator. As the doors slide shut the lights suddenly snap off, replaced by black light that reveals bright galaxies on the elevator walls. For an engineer, Takano's a fun guy.

Lively, too. Between his role as museum director and whatever duties his priesthood might impose, Takano has found time to climb into a Porsche and careen around Motegi Racetrack near Tokyo. So far his best finish is seventh. "I need more training," he mutters.

At Kanazawa University, Takano lectures on scientific history. "My specialty is the relationship between science and political power," he says. And the UFO stuff? "Maybe a little," he smiles. Takano seems to understand the proper limits of his enthusiasm, but make no mistake -- he wants to believe. When I ask about alien abduction stories, he takes my question very seriously. "Some of those stories are based on birth trauma," he suggests, "but some are real."

Takano clearly wants to keep Cosmo Isle free from the taint of Fox Network-style sensationalism. In this field, though, you unavoidably end up under the tent with some odd characters. He once appeared on a Kanazawa TV station with Raël, the Frenchman who states that aliens wrote the Bible and whose Raëlian cult is dedicated to free sex, cloning experiments and a plan to build its own alien embassy and landing strip. "He's just crazy," Takano says simply.

Not that Takano would mind the landing strip competition. "This museum is just one example of what could be done," he says. "In the near future, within 50 years, we will realize we are not alone. This is not just an issue for one country. It should be a matter for the United Nations."

As we head back to the parking lot, we pass a little attraction we managed to miss on the way in. Most visitors will. Sitting unobtrusively beside the front walkway is a young apple tree. Although small, its pedigree is impressive; this particular specimen was a cutting that originated in Isaac Newton's garden. And it's no bogus Moses, either: "You can check the DNA," Takano insists.

An apple tree from the garden of the man who invented modern physics? Yes, perhaps even a clone of the tree that once dropped an apple onto the noggin that would discover gravity, as told in that famous story. A story that happens to be bullshit.

Takano laughs. "Of course it wasn't true," he says of the Newton legend. He says goodbye, and we are left to contemplate his slyest exhibit. The perfect symbol of Cosmo Isle -- a living slice of genetic history, taken from the very place where scientific discovery bleeds into myth.

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