Three choose two.
It always seemed the same.
She couldn’t have it all, so from which could she abstain?

One strong, one sweet,
one somewhere in between;
three lovers came, one after next, across the shifting scene.

Each one had something, deep within,
which she did so adore.
Yet always there was something else, she couldn’t but abhor.

Fret though she may, fret though she might,
the choice had to be made.
What would she cede, to never have, in this most vexing trade?

Which would it be, of her three loves?
Who shall at last prevail?
Come and see, the answer waits, in this our star-crossed tale.

★  ★  ★  ★

Chad was a man. A real man.

This prince of a fellow had brains, brawn and backbone; everything our lovely leading lady could want in a beau. He and Leigh (for that was her name), had met in Shanghai during a year abroad.

And what a year it was to be.

They had started out friends, platonic partners in the intoxicated blur that follows many young nomads in their romps around the world. Leigh watched as Chad pursued every bit of life with a zeal and fearlessness that put most men to shame. She would cling tight to him as he zipped on his scooter through the dense and bustling Shanghai streets. He would leap at the chance for any new experience, and she was usually swept along for the ride. Sometimes it was frightening, but mostly it was exciting.

Eventually the inevitable happened, and their friendship became something more. One fling led to another, and soon their evenings were punctuated with slumber parties of the adult kind. And if Chad was a real man in the Shanghai streets, he was a REAL man in the bedroom sheets. Fast and heady spring evenings became hot and heavy summer nights. There were ups and downs, but as the days grew slowly longer, their bond grew ever stronger.

A couple in all but name. At least, that’s how Leigh saw it. Every bit of free time that she could bear was spent with Chad (for Leigh was something of an introvert, and wouldn’t stand for suffocation). There were dinners and social events, weekend adventures to exciting places, new things learned and discussed. There were many things about their relationship that Leigh cherished. But, if she was honest with herself, the main event…
was the sex.

It was, undoubtedly, the best Leigh had ever had. She found herself anticipating it on Friday afternoons while staring through the window beside her intern desk. It was exciting and exhilarating, and almost intimate in a sensual sort of way. It was active, energetic, and intense. It was also…

… somehow empty.

There was something missing. Leigh couldn’t pinpoint exactly what, but there was always a nagging feeling that what she and Chad had was somehow… hollow. Perhaps it was the wall of emotional distance that guarded the deeper parts of Chad’s ego. Perhaps it was the fact that they never officially declared their partnership. Being eternally in this emotional and social limbo left the romance feeling draped in shadows. It was ignorable at first, but as time wore on, Leigh began to feel that something unclean lurked in the gloom.

She had thought to address it, but each time the subject drew near, Chad’s battlements were raised. It wasn’t so much being ordered to halt at the gate, but more a raising of the guard; a display of stony-faced defensive posturing making clear that the fortress was readying for trouble. Each time the result was the same. Leigh would conclude that this was a matter best left for another day.

After all, there would always be another day…

★  ★  ★  ★

So what did become,
in the end,
of this Leigh’s first romance?

In rhyming verse,
I’ll tell you now,
the tragic circumstance.

Before she knew,
the clock struck twelve
on Cinderella’s ball.

Her time was up,
home awaited,
no way she could forestall.

With summer’s end,
Shanghai was gone,
left half a world away.

Unfinished business,
scholastic needs,
meant that she could not stay.

And so she left,
and bade farewell
to friends and cherished beau;

Words left unsaid,
they mattered not,
she couldn’t help but go.

She was upset,
in no small way,
that much you will surmise.

But what may perplex,
was deep regret
shining in his eyes.

No glass slipper,
for her prince,
this was a true goodbye.

Whatever they had,
left lying dead,
in streets of old Shanghai.

★  ★  ★  ★

Flying home, across the world, Leigh’s heart ached. So many things unresolved. What had it all meant? Had Chad really cared about her? Could things have been different if circumstance hadn’t pulled them apart?

She was hurt. She was vulnerable. She needed time to put the pieces back together.

Enter Thomas.

He was sweet and caring; comforting and safe. There was nothing dangerous about this lover. There were no rough edges to cut herself on, just a soft blanket to dress her wounds.

Thomas was waiting for her at the airport, gauze in hand. He had come, unbidden, to see her the minute she landed on American soil. There was some weak pretext for his presence, some errand in the area, but it quickly became obvious his purpose here was to meet Leigh.

This was an old flame. She and Thomas had dated in the year preceding her travels abroad. He was two years older, and had been a soothing voice in Leigh’s ear through many a tumultuous time.

Their relationship was defined by distance from the start. After Thomas graduated and moved away, time together was compressed into short visits, slotted in when both of their busy schedules would allow. Despite this, he made sure Leigh never wanted for attention, a sympathetic ear, or simply a companion to discuss the trials and tribulations of daily life. Thomas would listen to her every trouble, great and small, with a compassion and tenderness that always put Leigh at ease. She felt so safe and comfortable with Thomas. No need to impress anyone, no question about the depth of his affection. So clear, so stable, and so secure.

Now he was back. Despite being left in the dust for Leigh’s lively year abroad, Thomas was determined to be with her once again. It was so easy to slip back into place with him. They knew each other so well. He would do anything to make it work. And so, with more a passive slide than active step, Leigh and Thomas rekindled the embers of what they had once been.

This lover was an academic. As Leigh’s own graduation approached, Thomas received his master’s from Harvard and went on to a full-time position at Carnegie Mellon. She had always admired his intellect. Chad had been smart, but in a different sort of way. Thomas was the kind of smart you received awards for; the kind of smart you could build a life on. He had a bright future ahead, and made it clear that he wanted her to be a part of it.

Leigh was introduced to Thomas’ friends, family, and anyone else who happened to be close at hand. Gone were the dark shadows of ambiguity that had tainted her days with Chad. She and Thomas walked in bright sunshine as he teased at the white picket fences that lay in their future.

There were but two things about this paramour which gave Leigh pause.

The first was an ignorable, albeit ever-present, issue. Behind a lectern, Thomas was impressive; behind closed bedroom doors, less so. It wasn’t so much his subpar effort and execution, as the pervasive lack of passion. Leigh, despite her best efforts, could not conjure up a physical attraction to Thomas’ pasty form. It didn’t help that she always had to be on top, doing all of the work. Thomas, it could be said, had difficulty rising to the occasion.

Then there was Thomas’ stoic strength and spirit of adventure, or rather, the complete lack thereof. A streak of fragility and timidity seemed to underlie every decision the scholar would make.

Climb a mountain? Too strenuous.
Travel to far away lands? Too dangerous.

Leigh wondered if, in the event they were waylaid by some attacker, she might end up having to defend Thomas. It was not an enamouring prospect.

Time passed, and the stability this love had once offered began to ferment into stagnation. The soft blanket began to feel stifling and oppressive. As Leigh contemplated her post-university career, questions about their future nagged at her mind.

And so, when the opportunity for change presented itself, she seized it.

Hong Kong. A fresh start. Something new and exciting.

A former classmate had helped illuminate a path for her there. It would be difficult, painful, exciting, educational, and liberating. Whatever hope this poor paramour had ended here.

When Leigh boarded that plane, the death warrant was signed and sealed. It would be months of cajoling back and forth, late-night long-distance discussions, breaking up and making up, but the countdown had begun.

As Leigh’s new life in that faraway place began in earnest, it was agreed that Thomas would come for a visit. A date was chosen, tickets were purchased, and the final act of this dying love was set in motion…

★  ★  ★  ★

On a warm fall day,
the stage was laid.
She had made up her mind, the scales were weighed.

This love, once so sweet,
long since turned sour.
End was nigh, awaiting only the hour.

The scholar had come,
chasing his prize.
Yet in his haste, he proved ever unwise.

Clutching too tightly,
driven by fear,
frustration and rage, sliced through his veneer.

In seeing him thus,
pure ire and spite,
the last of her love, went out like a light.

A fortnight’s long tour,
he spent thereat.
Days full of sadness, each night a new spat.

The finish was near,
end of his run,
next day he’d be gone, flown off with the sun.

One last excursion,
a day at sea;
a short social trip, concluded by three.

She told him the truth,
one day before.
They two were finished, their love was no more.

His temper was sharp,
harsh words sailed;
as though the sting of rejection, could be thus countervailed.

Yet one final slight,
he wouldn’t see.
On board that day, rode Leigh’s new love-to-be.

In secret they met,
for love’s first kiss.
Above, the scholar, sensed nothing amiss.

And so with day’s end,
they bid farewell.
Slam of a cab door, love’s final death knell.

He boarded the plane,
she at once gone;
to her new love then, next step — moving on.

And so did this death,
and birth collide;
heart leading on, she along for the ride.

★  ★  ★  ★

It had ended badly with Thomas. The ugly memories still stung at the back of Leigh’s mind. Her only solace was that it was over. The ties were cut, the bridges were burned, and she was free. Free to pursue something new. Free to leap into a new pair of waiting arms.

And whose arms awaited her?

A dashing new prince to sweep her off her feet?  A fatherly guardian to play both lover and guide?

Yes… and no.

The final prince in our tale is, in fact, not a prince at all. This lover was a woman. Not a princess, nor a common girl, but a queen. Capable of fiery passion and warm tenderness; iron strength and velvet compassion. She was intuitive and intelligent. Hers was an understanding and spiritual intimacy that no man could muster. Every bit of closeness and affection that she had yearned for with Chad, every ounce of strength and courage that she had wished for in Thomas, was here. Sometimes it felt like she saw directly into Leigh’s soul.

Brea was her name. They had met soon after Leigh’s arrival in Hong Kong — a new colleague, that became a new friend, that became something more. Within weeks of their first meeting, they were finishing each other’s sentences. Before she knew it, Leigh could sense the familiar feeling of her willful heart prodding and jostling her insides about.

It was impatient, and would not wait until her vacillating hands delivered the death blow to the lame and sickly thing that she and Thomas had become. And so, before the scholar had made his final exit, she had confessed her feelings, and shared her first kiss with Brea.

She wasn’t perfect (for no humans are), but she was just right for Leigh. She knew how to be exciting in the good times, and comforting in the bad. Every thought, every wish —she seemed to know it before Leigh said anything aloud.

When they were at work, they were the most efficient of professional teams. When they were at home, they were the sweetest of lovers. When they were out with friends, they were the merriest of adventurers. She knew exactly how much space Leigh wanted, and when she wanted it; when she meant what she said, and when she meant something else; when to speak, and when to listen.

In a word, their love was perfect. All except one thing.

Leigh, was not a lesbian.

She was not bisexual, pansexual, asexual, or queer.

Leigh was straight. Straight as a board. Straight as a number two pencil. Straight as uncooked spaghetti. And no amount of hot water could change it.

She had tried. Leigh had considered all sorts of potions, devices and tricks. All to no avail. Our poor protagonist was horribly, helplessly, heartbreakingly heterosexual.

What was to be done? Surely such a thing could not last long? Surely the truth must shortly be discovered and bring all crashing down around our hapless heroine’s head?

As you may now guess, these matters of the heart are seldom so straightforward…

★  ★  ★  ★

And so begins, the last climax,
of our Leigh’s tragic tale.
An averse end, which she fought, but alas to no avail.

First one month passed, in this strange love,
then two, then three, then four.
There was no cure, for who she was, truth she could not ignore.

Before she knew, a year was gone —
laughter, smiles and tears.
She was so close, to Brea dear, yet growing was her fear.

For Leigh knew, somewhere deep within,
her heart’s roiling sea:
two minds without willing bodies, true lovers could not be.

Yet she waited, prolonged, delayed
confession of her soul.
Perhaps something, yet would change, leaving her and Brea whole.

She told herself, it was shallow,
to covet carnal form.
Given time, her selfish flesh, would embrace this strange new norm.

Yet as the months, marched ever on,
her unease turned to dread.
For Brea’s words, began to sign, that she was not mislead.

A gentle sigh, a soft remark,
a question half in jest,
“Do you truly, find me my dear, as lovely when undressed?”

At last the day, of judgement came,
unbidden and unplanned;
a simple chat, a chance comment, a question asked offhand.

Soon Leigh’s thoughts, came all pouring out,
the truth now known to all.
Unspoken words, now said aloud, took on a deathly pall.

In Brea’s face, she now could see,
their fate it did portend.
Near or soon, it mattered not, for this love now too must end.

No bitter fights, no fierce cross words,
just sadness and resign.
Too weary for, any more, of this played-out storyline.

And so it ended, this last love,
with a sigh, not a crash.
Time and place, meaningless facts, by end all was burnt to ash.

★  ★
★  ★  ★  ★
★  ★

A final verse, to share the fate,
of our luckless lady lead.
A tragic hand, fate dealt to her, despite nary a misdeed.

Leigh was alone, in the end,
of our three poor lovers’ tale.
No knight or prince, no king or queen, to survive the fervid gale.

Yet in this, she strangely found,
a warm silver lining lay.
With love’s flames now gone, smoke extinguished, there was a new pathway.

Caught within, these twisting trysts,
she’d forgotten who she was.
Who was Leigh, when she stood alone, beyond any lover’s claws?

Time was nigh, for her to find,
the answers that she so sought.
Only she alone, could do this task, freed from love’s binding knot.

Thus ends this song, ode to Leigh,
a ballad to see her free.
She will find her way, you worry not, this much I guarantee.

End

 

The plane lifted off. Gravity pushed on my face and insides like an invisible barrier. As the ground slid away, the tugging subsided and the world below faded into obscurity. A chapter of my life flipped shut.

Beginning again, with nothing and no one. It was not a new experience.

A lifetime of lurching from place to place had torn up any roots long before they formed. In their place I had grown legs. First crawling, then stumbling, then running, and now leaping.

Leaping right off of a cliff.

Hopefully my feet would land solid on the other side. In any case, plummeting to the rocks below would be preferable to the alternative; planting my feet in the dirt, closing my eyes and pretending to be a tree. Better to die in the wilds then live as topiary in someone else’s garden.

In my hands I held my future, for better or worse; a one-way ticket across the world. Everything I owned — sold, gifted, or discarded.

Two suitcases were all that remained.

★  ★  ★  ★

My destination was a long way away. Twenty two hours trickled by like cold molasses. One stop in Chicago, then another in Istanbul. I spent nearly six hours stuffing my face full of free samples of Turkish delight. It was not a filling meal, but money was tight, and the gummy cubes saved me one overpriced airport meal.

The final leg of the journey arrived. I popped two expired sleeping pills in celebration. They had the paradoxical effect of creating both a profound desire to sleep, and an unbearable skin-crawling sensation that prevented me from doing so. I writhed in discomfort for the better part of eight hours before finally losing consciousness.

Skidding wheels jolted me awake. I stared confused and bleary-eyed for several moments before remembering where I was. A plane. Rolling into an airport.

Hong Kong.

I shuffled, cramped and jittery, through immigration. My legs moved without the need for any conscious thought. They brought me to the baggage claim.

I waited…

…and waited…

…and waited…

My bags were not here.

My stomach sank as I approached the lost baggage counter. The toad of a man squatting behind croaked out my judgement:

“No bag.”

The staff would have them sent to my hostel if they found them. In the meantime, I should contact the airline directly for any follow up.

No bag.

Everything I owned in the world, save a small sling and the clothes on my back, gone.

No bag.

I didn’t have the money to replace the things I had lost. I had never seen this city before, and I didn’t know a single person I could contact for help.

Truly a lovely start.

★  ★  ★  ★

The air was hot and thick. Beads of sweat bubbled up and rolled down my face at predictable intervals. My dirty shirt clung to my back and torso.

I hung up the phone and stared over the hostel roof at the cityscape before me. As predicted, the call had ended unsuccessfully. Four days had passed and I was no closer to locating my bags.

Each time I dialed the designated number, I was dragged into a labyrinthine game of pass-the-buck. I was put on hold, re-directed, and told to call different parties. Somehow I always ended up at a line with no answer. The only concern anyone seemed to have was getting the problem passed to someone else. I made a solemn oath never to fly Turkish Airlines again.

This was the final straw. Clearly these calls were going nowhere. I had fortunately paid for my hostel in advance, but being unable to change clothes, shave, or properly prepare for my new life was driving me to the edge of reason.

Not that making preparations for my internship even mattered, since the loss of my bags had been compounded with equally appalling news. My training visa, which was supposed to be ready for pick up on arrival, was nowhere to be found. I had sent the paperwork to the relevant company administrator far in advance of the deadline. After grilling her for nearly an hour on another of my rooftop calls, I was finally supplied with the true reason for this lapse. She had only submitted the paperwork two weeks prior. The visa could be ready tomorrow, or two months from now. There was no way of knowing. In the meantime, I would be unable to start work or collect my pay. My already miserly budget would be past the breaking point within a matter of weeks.

Anger and frustration boiled through my veins. I wished I had the company administrator, the airport toad-man, and the entire staff of Turkish Airlines on the roof with me so that I could throw them over.

Enough. This was going nowhere. I wasn’t going to waste another minute with disembodied voices that vanished like puffs of smoke each time you drew close. I resolved to take my problem to Turkish Airline’s only office in Hong Kong; the office which, on a phone call several days earlier, had told me that they exclusively dealt with sales and could do nothing to resolve my issue.

I got up early the next morning and trudged ten blocks to a towering office building. The July sun was blazing and the humidity created a repressive blanket over everything. My clothes were again soaked with sweat by the time I peered into the office window. I’m sure they smelled terrible.

Closed. I looked down at my watch and saw I was early. The office would not open for nearly another two hours.

So I waited…

… and waited…

Finally, the lights flicked on and the door unlocked. I stepped inside.

“Welcome! How may I help you today?” A perky staff member beamed up at me as I approached the counter.

“I need to speak with someone about my bags.”

Her face fell.

“Ah, I’m sorry, but this is a sales office. You will have to direct any baggage or other post-flight inquires to our phone service line.”

“I tried that. It didn’t work.”

I described the endless loops of redirects and unanswered lines that I had been trapped in since my arrival. The clerk apologized again, repeated that this was a sales office, and offered a different number to call. I informed her that I had already dialed that specific number and received no answer.

The clerk resumed her robotic response, “Ah, I’m sorry, but there is nothing else we can do. This is a sales office and—”

“No, I am tired of being passed off and hung up on. Everything I own is in those two bags and I NEED THEM BACK. This is a Turkish Airlines office and you are going to tell me where my bags are and when I can get them.”

Rage had crept into my voice. It was even, but heavy with menace. It was not just the loss of my bags, but the utter apathy and dismissiveness which was snipping away at the last few threads of my patience. It was not only this clerk, but the fact that every single point of contact had exactly the same attitude: “This is someone else’s problem.”

The clerk was noticeably uncomfortable. “Perhaps you can try the number again later and someone may pick up.”

“No. I am NOT LEAVING THIS OFFICE until you FIND MY BAGS.”

My eyes were bulging as I hissed the final words between clenched teeth. By this point, the full depth of my anger and indignation was written on my face. The clerk’s eyes had gone wide in response. Her body was frozen with hands hovering stiffly above counter.

“Ah… Eh…” Her eyes flicked between me and her computer.

“Eh… Maybe I can try calling our airport staff.”

The next hour followed with a series of phone calls. I was only able to pick out bits and pieces, as most of the dialogue was in Cantonese. Despite this, I could tell the clerk was making significantly more progress than I had. She updated me at intervals on the status of the search.

She spoke first with several parties at the Hong Kong airport, who then put her on hold to contact their counterparts in Istanbul. There was a period of waiting as the Istanbul team conducted their own search.

Finally, the bags were located. They were, in fact, sitting in a baggage depository in Istanbul. It was clear from the clerk’s embarrassed description that they had not been on any track to recovery, and could well have sat there for weeks until the local staff got around to sorting them. As it was, they would be placed on a flight this evening, and would be dropped off at my hostel the next morning.

An immense weight lifted from my shoulders. I gave my reluctant savior a heartfelt thanks and floated out of the office and back to my hostel.

True to the clerk’s word, the bags were delivered to my hostel common room the following morning. I felt like writing her a love letter.

I had my possessions back. There were not many, and none were particularly expensive, but they were all I had. Several pairs of clothing with varying levels of formality, my shoes, whose large size made them exceedingly difficult to replace in Asia, toiletries, and laptop laid stacked on my hostel bed. I vowed I would never trust my possessions to checked baggage again. Better to throw away half of the little I had, in order to guarantee the safety of the most important items.

I returned my organized collection to the suitcases and laid down on the bed. Plans and next steps formed and dissolved in my mind. No amount of haranguing company administrators or government clerks would get my visa processed any faster.

Now there was truly nothing to do but wait.

★  ★  ★  ★

Ten days later, the precious document arrived. It had thankfully made good time, as the visa could have taken another three weeks and still been well within the processing window allotted by official estimates. This would have been far too late for my dwindling reserve of funds, and I was left considering whether it would be possible to downgrade any further from my current nine-bed hostel accommodations. As it was, I would narrowly scrape by until my first month’s pay was dispensed.

I phoned and informed the company that my visa was in hand. They reserved a slot for me at an orientation session scheduled for the coming Monday.

When the day finally arrived, I donned my ill-fitting suit, stepped over a drunken backpacker sprawled on the floor, and headed off across the city.

Lybrand & Waters

The name floated on broad glass doors. It looked impressive to the young man standing below. Fresh out of a tier-four university, this massive and powerful firm stood a mysterious monolith; one of the behemoth machines that underpinned the workings of modern civilization.

I pushed my way inside. The front desk staff directed me towards the training room. I took a seat and waited for the day to begin.

Gradually other participants trickled in. Within twenty minutes the large room was almost half-full. As the orientation staff set up their equipment and prepared to start, I surveyed the other suits dotted across the space.

They were all so small. Not just in terms of physical size, but in their age as well. They looked like early college students at most. I might have guessed even younger if the environment didn’t make that seem so implausible.

The awareness made me somewhat uneasy. I was on an internship, but I had come to the other side of the world for this. This was not just a short summer stint to build my resume. I had staked all of my tiny savings on this endeavor. If it fell through, I would be in a truly dismal position. I shifted in my seat, feeling oversized and a bit like a juvenile delinquent in a class of fifth graders.

The orientation concluded in the early afternoon. We were shuffled out of the room and down to a shuttle that would ferry us across town. Our first day would begin at the company’s main consulting offices. My adolescent companions glanced furtively up at me and whispered to each other in Cantonese.

Our group was divided between three small transport vehicles. The shuttles would each head to the different office locations depending on which branch of the firm the passengers were employed with. The consulting services group was the smallest, with barely a handful of suits dotted among the bench seats.

We rode for about twenty minutes before being unceremoniously dumped on a random street corner.

“Um… Where are we?” I glanced at my fellow dumpee’s to see if they had any more idea than I. Most were looking about with confused expressions.

Finally, one particularly stiff looking man-child gave a nasally response, “Ah, yes. The office is over this way.”

Our troop followed his lead across two city blocks and up to a glistening office tower. We arrived on the 31st floor, using our new badges to swipe in. My fellow interns fanned out and melted into the patchwork of open desks and cubicle space. I chose a seat at an open table adjacent to a row of cubicles.

There didn’t appear to be any administrators or reception staff. Everybody in the office was busy at work, with chirrups of Cantonese flying back and forth across the large space. I didn’t see a single other foreigner.

I sat pondering what to do next. My unease was mounting as I realized this may, in fact, be the true nature of the internship I had arrived for; dropped into a foreign corporate office to attempt to scrounge up bits of work from the preoccupied staff.

Unclear about what to do next, I sat waiting for any helpful-looking staff.

And waited…

… and waited…

Nearly an hour had passed. Everyone was in such a rush and so caught up in their own work that it seemed unwise to try and disturb them. Nevertheless, it was my only option. It seemed worse to sit idle, waiting for some savior that would likely never come.

I poked my head over one of the adjacent cubicles.

“Hi… Um, excuse me?”

The woman below was buried face down in a pile of documents.

“Hello?” I repeated louder.

The woman gave a visible jump and swung her eyes up me. “AH!… Wah, you scared me.”

I apologized and introduced myself. After giving a brief overview of my day, I asked the woman if she had any idea as to what I should do next.

She looked between myself and the pile of paperwork on her desk, a sly smile spreading over her face. “Well… I can give you some work to do.”

Unsure of any other alternative, I accepted her offer and sat down to several volumes of spreadsheets on a large-scale property development project. The work was tedious, but it was better than nothing.

After several hours of combing through and adjusting various entries, my host abruptly dismissed me. She informed me that she had an appointment to make and that we would pick up the rest of the work the following day.

An hour later, I flopped down on the hostel bed. I was more than a bit anxious about my situation, given that my current patron seemed unlikely to lead me to any eventual employment. The woman only seemed concerned with using free hands to push a bit of work off of her desk. I had one month. If I couldn’t get an offer, or at least an extension of my internship, in that time, all of this would be for nothing. I lay staring at the bottom of the bunk above me.

Very little sleep came that night.

★  ★  ★  ★

“When you’re going through these, make sure to identify any inconsistencies between columns C and F. I know it’s a lot of entries, but if any of these are off it could create big issues with budgeting for the phase of the project.”

I nodded in agreement and my satisfied master walked back to her desk. Three days had passed like this. I was getting quicker at the mind-numbingly repetitive tasks dumped in front of me each morning, but no less concerned about my predicament. Should I place my bets on impressing this random woman, in the far-flung hope that she would help champion my way to an offer of employment? It seemed a vain delusion.

I was in the middle of pondering what my other options might be, when a sudden noise to my left snapped me back to reality.

“Jack?”

I swung my head around and fixed my eyes on the creature in front of me. It looked like some kind of miserable, malnourished bird with half of its feathers ripped out. It’s voice was more a gobble than a chirp. How did it know my name?

“Yes? I’m Jack. How do you know me?”

The thing’s eyes went wide. “Are you here to see Frank?”

My mental gears turned. Frank was the name of the partner I had harassed for those many long months trying to secure this internship. I felt I had pushed my welcome too far when he started giving sharp, one-line replies to my emails indicating he was too busy for further communication. That had been more than seven months ago.

The week of my graduation, I had been shocked to open an email offering a one-month internship at the Lybrand & Waters Hong Kong office. It appeared to be a generic message template, and I wasn’t sure if Frank had anything to do with it. I suspected he may have passed the case off to a lower-level administrator to handle as they saw fit. As it turned out, this was not far from the truth.

I was not here to see Frank, but I realized that I would very much like to see Frank.

“Yes, I’m here to see Frank.” I flashed a large smile at the decrepit creature in front of me.

“Oh, good. Well let me take you to him!”

My current chaperone poked her head over the cubicle wall. I told her that I was going to see Frank, whom she seemed surprised that I knew. I gave a quick reassurance that I would be back shortly and set off after the strange bird, who I later discovered was called Prudence.

As we walked, I inquired as to how Prudence had identified me. Had Frank sent her looking?

She happily responded that she had heard her boss mention a young foreigner named Jack late the prior year. When she spied me from across the office, she had a hunch that this might be the same person. Apparently, there were few foreigners who frequented this space. I gave a small thanks for my light complexion and relatively tall stature. Sticking out here had, for once, been a blessing.

We arrived at a large, glass-walled room, partitioned off from the rest off the office. There was a long table running through the middle with two people seated at opposite ends. They didn’t appear to be conversing. Prudence stepped inside and motioned for me to follow.

“Hey boss?”

A stocky Caucasian man in a fitted suit glanced up.

“Yes?”

“I’ve brought someone to see you,” Prudence said motioning over her shoulder. “This is Jack.”

The man cocked his head and narrowed his eyes at me as he stood. He was not particularly tall, but he had a strength and sharpness which made him seem much larger. His cleanly shaved head and manicured goatee gave an air of exacting precision. It was not unfriendly, but spoke of someone with a low tolerance for error.

“I’m sorry… Jack? I’m not sure we’ve met.” It was a polite, but clear, invitation to explain myself.

“Hi Frank. I’m not sure if you remember me. We spoke on the phone last year and exchanged a few emails.” Frank raised his eyebrows slightly as if waiting for more.  I continued, “I’m here for the internship we discussed.”

He considered for a few moments. Suddenly his eyes popped open in recognition.

“Jack?” He seemed genuinely shocked at my appearance. “Wow, I had no idea you were coming. I didn’t hear anything back after January so I assumed things didn’t pan out.”

Frank explained that he had passed my case off to human resources earlier that year. Since he hadn’t heard anything further from them or myself, he had put the affair from his mind. Apparently, some unknown staff must have sent my case through all the way to processing without any further screening or communication, assuming it had direct approval from the company leadership. To this day I am not sure if it actually did, or it was merely an accident that blindly obedient staff had unthinkingly pushed through whatever their boss happened to send them.

Frank reiterated his amazement that I’d come all the way here for a one-month internship. I had come for more than that, but diplomatically replied that I was greatly interested in the firm, and was willing to do whatever it took to be part of it.

In reality, I had barely known what a management consultant was a few months prior. I was, however, truly willing to go to any lengths to get this job. I suspect Frank could feel that.

Frank’s demeanor had shifted following our formal introduction. He had become slightly less short and seemed pleased to see me. From the somewhat dismissive way he treated treated Prudence, I gathered that he found her more an annoyance than a help. I would later learn that she had a reputation as an office social-climber; lacking real ability at her job, but always eager to curry favor through political machinations. She wasn’t very good at it.

Frank announced that he wanted to introduce me to “the team” and began leading us out of the office and down the hall. As we walked, he discussed his group and some of the work they specialized in. With a focus on digital technology and social media, it seemed far more interesting than the property development spreadsheets I had been mired in for the last several days.

We arrived in a new section of the open office. As it turned out, Frank’s team currently consisted of only two dedicated staff. Locals from other groups were pressed into service for his projects as needed, but the bulk of the specialized work was carried out by these two. As Frank introduced me, I resolved to become the third.

The second-in-command, Brent, was a lanky, spectacled Englishman. His manner was even sharper than Frank’s, projecting a cold and unapproachable aura. The other, Timothy, was young man from mainland China. His English was not good, but he seemed more amiable than Brent.

I was informed that I would be working with these two for the duration of my internship. I was glad for the change, but expressed concerns about the status of my current assignment. Frank asked that I explain, and I described my work on the property development documents with the cubicle woman.

Frank’s face fell into an annoyed scowl. He turned towards Prudence.

“Why is he working on that?”

“I don’t know boss. I didn’t know anything about it.” She seemed nervous that she would be blamed for whatever transgression had been committed.

The scowl stayed fixed on Frank’s face. “Well go tell her that he’s not working on that anymore.”

Prudence gave an obsequious nod and scurried off to deliver the message. As she went, I noted the distinct pecking order that appeared to be at play. Prudence had clearly failed at this game.

I would need to tread carefully, lest I end up the same.

★  ★  ★  ★

The clock hand ticked to 2:08 p.m.

Late. Again.

Eight minutes late to a fifteen minute meeting. It was not an encouraging sign. This appointment had already seen a last-minute reschedule, then been cut from thirty minutes, down to fifteen. For an interview that would decide the course of my future, its apparent triviality in the eyes of my judges was vexing.

Two months had passed since my arrival. The last several weeks on Frank’s team had been grueling, both mentally taxing and physically exhausting. At the time, I felt that ten hour days and the occasional weekend stint at the office were painfully long. How laughably leisurely those hours would seem in the coming years.

Much of the work was entirely new to me, and Brent proved to be every bit as unforgiving as he appeared. The slightest mistake would evoke a biting stream of criticism, combining profanity and insults with scalding effect. I once witnessed him hurling expletives at Timothy with such volume and force that even the other battle-hardened office denizens momentarily froze in shock.

Despite this, I made progress. I grew quicker at locating and packaging the information Brent required for his projects. Timothy and I became close, pushed together in our shared suffering. The young man was quite capable, making up for his relative lack of communication skills with a truly deep understanding of the technologies and strategies which underlied our work.

In early August, my internship had been given a month’s extension. That period was now drawing to a close, with less than a week remaining before I was to return my equipment and be cast back onto the streets of Hong Kong. To commemorate the end of my internship, Frank had invited me to lunch. As we sat eating exorbitant calamari, he inquired about plans following my short stay with Lybrand & Waters.

I recognized my opportunity and seized it. I related the entire circumstances of my arrival; my one-way ticket, my lost baggage, and my sheer determination to gain a full-time position with his firm. Frank seemed genuinely astonished when he heard that I had arrived on a one-way flight and had no intention or means of returning. When I finished, Frank thought for a moment and said simply that he would arrange a discussion with human resources.

Now I was waiting for that discussion; the fifteen-minute audience that would decide my fate. Since I had never had a formal interview, I surmised that this was to be a decisive moment. I would need to make my case to both Frank, and the head of HR to have any chance at a full-time offer. Research had shown me that the firm was incredibly selective, with the average successful applicant having a far more prestigious university background, and more directly relevant set of technical skills than I. I would need to show them that my determination was worth more than that. Not an easy task when facing some of the most ruthless businessmen in the world.

Finally, at 2:09, the head of HR walked through the conference room door. Frank followed moments later. They exchanged greetings and took seats at adjacent corners of the table. There was a moment of silence as Frank turned a piercing gaze towards me. I steeled myself for what was to come.

Frank silently turned back towards the HR lead. His chair creaked.

“Well, I don’t want to beat around the bush here. I want to bring him on board. Can we make it happen?”

“Sure Frank, I’ll push him through with the incoming batch next month.”

I sat dumbfounded. They hadn’t asked me a single question. With a word, my long-sought goal had been realized. I felt like a sprinter, struggling on the final stretch of a great race, only to discover that I had passed the finish line fifty meters before.

I sat nodding stupidly as the head of HR told me I would be contacted with follow up information through my company email. The men concluded their discussion and the three of us stood to exit the room. It had all happened so fast that my mind hadn’t quite caught up with my legs.

As soon as we were through the door, the two men barreled off in opposite directions. I snapped back to reality in time to see Frank’s form disappearing around a corner. Realizing that I should do something more than nod my acceptance, I jumped into a jogging pursuit.

I caught up to Frank just as he was about to enter a conference room. He turned a piercing look towards me as I trotted to a halt beside him.

“Sorry for holding you up Frank. I just wanted to sincerely thank you for this opportunity.” His expression softened slightly. “I want you to know that I’m going to give this my all, and do whatever it takes to make you glad you gave me this chance.”

A wry smile crept over Frank’s face.

“Oh, don’t worry. I know you will.”

★  ★  ★  ★

In the coming years, I would see the price for leaping off of that cliff in pursuit of my dream. I had landed on the other side, only to discover a dark and dense jungle looming ahead. Sleepless nights, scheming spiders, and knives hidden behind crocodile smiles. There were few paths to follow, and none to be trusted. I watched vicious and bizarre creatures hunting, fighting, and feasting on the carcasses of their prey.

It was a life I would not choose to live again, and one I did not regret for a moment.

The wilds can be a harsh and unforgiving place, but life is not something meant to be lived from the safety of a cage. Any bird content to exist perched meekly in a coop might as well be a chicken; whittling its days away pumping out eggs for whatever master, too wary of being throttled and thrown in the skillet to chance an escape. If to venture out was to risk being eaten alive, I would take my chances in the jungle.

A life in any cage, even one of one’s own making, is no life at all.

End

 

Suppose you were to ask a machine to list the most desirable qualities in a human mate.

Physical attractiveness, intelligence, sociability, and a strong position in the societal hierarchy would likely top the bill. In theory, someone who chose a partner based on these criteria would end up with healthy and successful offspring. Following the principles of evolutionary biology, they would have fulfilled their purpose and triumphed in Darwin’s great game.

Unfortunately, humans are not logical creatures. Any android attempting to secure a mate fielding only these pre-designated traits would encounter a strange phenomenon. Despite ticking every box on their well-built index, some people would simply not be interested.

Continue reading “The Mating Game” →

D-Day.

The doors flew open and five black shapes darted out of the vehicle. They froze crouched on the asphalt, eyes flicking back and forth in the darkness, listening for moments that stretched into eternities.

One rose.

“Follow me,” it breathed in a low voice.

The five shapes moved silently to the front of the vehicle. The frontmost figure lifted its head and checked both directions. It motioned to the left, then bolted off in a crouched half-sprint. The still midnight air pounded with silent war-drums.

The next two shapes hesitated for a split-second, then dashed off in pursuit. They closed the gap to a nearby stretch of fencing and fell into place pressed against the wooden planks.

The first shape was positioned near the edge of the fence, gripping the corner and peering out intently in the direction of the last two figures.

“What are they doing?!” it hissed in a low whisper.

The second and third shapes crept up next to the first and peered around the corner. The final two figures could be seen in the distance, crouched and racing away in the opposite direction of the fence.

“Those dumb-asses must’ve gone back to get the beer,” the second shape croaked in a hoarse voice.

“What the FUCK is wrong with them?!” the first voice spat. Its owner stared after the last two figures as they darted across a walkway and into a doorway some way in the distance.

“Well… nothing we can do. They’re screwed.”

The three figures ducked back behind the cover of the fence. In the distance, at the far edge of a dark field, the headlights of a fresh line of police cruisers flickered between the trees.

“It’s go-time,” the third voice said in a somber whisper.

“What?”

The other two shapes squinted at the third.

“It’s go-time boys. We’ve gotta make our escape before the Gestapo find us and throw us in the special shower.” The solemn message caused a moment of deep silence to settle over the group.

“Man, what the fuck is a guest-apo?—”

“—are you serious man? How fucked-up are you?”

The two shadows stared at the third in disbelief.

The third slowly nodded and smiled a toothy, knowing smile, “Yes.”

There was another moment of confused silence. “Wha?… well… just… don’t do anything stupid,” a worried whisper came from the first shape. “I’m having a hard enough time holding it together as it is…”

“Man, I don’t know what the hell you two are talking about, I just don’t wanna go to jail…” The hoarse whisper sounded like a strange blend of confusion, irritation and apathy.

A final moment of silence passed. The three shapes turned and looked back out over the endless black expanse between them and freedom.

★  ★  ★  ★

It should have been an easy, low-key night. A couple cases of beer, an eighth of weed, an empty apartment, and five friends. The apartment didn’t belong to them, and no one was old enough to buy the beer they were drinking, but the chances of anything going wrong seemed slim. No one cared enough about where these burn-outs were or what they were doing to have any reason to come looking.

They met in the early evening, most catching rides in the only car they had between them. The group enlisted the help of one “Uncle Ricky” to pick up the beer and other supplies. Ricky wasn’t actually related to anyone, but was rather a sketchy forty-something year-old that one of the boys had met through a friend of a friend. He would occasionally help the group buy alcohol, cigarettes and other paraphernalia in exchange for a couple cans of beer or sampling of whatever else was being bought. There was a general suspicion that Uncle Ricky might be homeless, but nobody cared enough to investigate.

It had been dark for several hours by the time the first four arrived at the empty apartment. The venue was situated at the edge of a low-end golf course, part of a line of cheap vacation housing that remained empty for most of the year, waiting for seasonal visitors who only occasionally materialized. The last member of their group had a part-time job with the facility management office and was able to access the complex’s booking system. He had helped the five identify an empty unit near the end of the development with relatively few tenants nearby.

It was here that the four waited for the better part of an hour, sipping cheap beer and chatting until the final member of their group rapped on the door. He gave the all clear. Most of the staff were gone, leaving only one lone security guard to monitor the entire complex. Even the most diligent staff would be unlikely to inspect this far-flung corner, and the man on duty this night was known to be particularly lazy. He was more likely to be found sleeping in front of the control room’s monitor panel than patrolling the grounds.

With their group complete, the five decided to kick off the night by hot-boxing their car. It was stationed at the far end off the narrow parking lot running along the front of the apartment block. Smoking there would not only help their precious pot go further when trapped and recycled in the tiny space, but would also minimize the chance of wandering fumes finding their way to some irritable neighbor.

Five shapes exited the unit, leaving behind only two thirty-packs of Pabst Blue Ribbon. They slunk across the dark asphalt and filed into a cheap white sedan halfway between the final building unit and the start of the trimmed grass that marked the golf course proper.

The front two seats held the car owner’s towering, tangled Afro alongside the group’s hoarse-voiced inside man. The back contained a spindly, twitchy skeleton, a toothy jackal, and a foreigner with a perpetually half-baked understanding of his surroundings. The latter of these had declined to join the group in “smoking drugs,” but was nonetheless happy to sit wedged in the center-back seat as the air in the tiny vehicle was replaced with a thick haze of burnt cannabis.

Within ten minutes it was nearly impossible to see beyond a few feet in any direction. The group laughed and joked as they choked down the cheap pot. The Afro jabbed at the foreigner, who was bouncing up and down in his seat, obviously no more sober than the rest of the creatures surrounding him.

Flashing blue lights.

The vehicle was suddenly bathed in rhythmic flashes of blue light. Every shape in the car instantly threw themselves to the floor, with the exception of foreigner who was jerked down by the skeleton a half-second later.

They lay motionless on the floorboards. Not one moved or breathed for the better part of a minute as the pulsating flashes of blue doused the space above them.

Finally the Afro lifted up slightly to peer out.

“They’re just standing by their car talking… they keep looking over at the apartment.”

Several long minutes passed. The jackal, who had been holding the glass pipe when the lights appeared, gazed sidelong at the object clenched in his fist. A deranged grin spread over his face as a plan began to take shape. If he smoked away the rest of the evidence, then how could these blue monsters prove anything at all?

The flick of a lighter caused every head in the vehicle to twitch.

“What the fuck are you doing?!?!” the skeleton’s panicked voice was somewhere between a whisper and a low hiss.

“Disposing of the evidence,” the jackal grinned through a mouthful of smoke.

“Dude, are you retarded? You’re gonna get us all pinched…” the Afro’s bassy voice was was unusually thin as he glanced towards the source of the blue lights.

Another flick.

“All gone.” The jackal announced proudly.

No one responded as several more tense minutes ticked by.

Suddenly the blue lights shifted and disappeared from view. Nobody disturbed the dark silence that followed. Finally the Afro peaked up.

“They’re gone.”

The two leftmost figures, the Afro and the jackal, leaned against their respective doors, facing away from the complex and towards the dark grass. The three remaining shapes turned and positioned themselves behind.

The doors flew open.

★  ★  ★  ★

Five shapes darted from the vehicle. The skeleton, the inside-man and the jackal went left, the Afro and the foreigner went right. More police began to appear through the trees and across the roads leading to the complex.

The three darted, slunk and slid through bushes, behind trees and along the edge of black grassy fields. As soon as they had put some small distance between themselves and the parking lot, the skeleton made an urgent call. After many pleas and few threats, it was agreed that his cousin would wait for their small group one block from the golf course. If they could just make it there they might survive; their one last chance for salvation.

And so they inched their way across the dark expanse, zigzagging from cover to cover. The enemy was everywhere, an ever-growing stream of ominous lights. Headlights from vehicles, flashlights from searching officers, and cycling lights from the vehicle-mounted mountain bikes called in for occasions such as these. Their time was running out.

Finally, after what seemed to be several eternities, the last stretch was in sight. A dense row of tall, bushy trees marked the far edge of the course. The yellow street light peaking between them marked the path to salvation. The gates of heaven itself would not have been a more welcome sight.

One final desperate dash. The three were exposed on open ground for a painfully long stretch of time. They plunged through the tree line and burst out into blinding light.

Clear. The street was empty.

After quickly orienting themselves, the skeleton directed the group down the road towards the rendezvous point. One block away they found a small white sedan idling by a street sign. Without waiting to be invited, they threw open the doors and dived in.

Extraction.

★  ★  ★  ★

The gas station lights covered everything in a dingy yellow glow.

The jackal sat perched on the hood of the sedan, watching a cockroach scurry back and forth in front of the shop’s sliding doors. Behind him, the inside man leaned mutely against the side of the vehicle, gazing blankly at their co-conspirator. The bony silhouette was glued to its phone in a heated conversation.

“There’s no way man. There are so many cops there right now.”

As if to emphasize his point, the hum of another police cruiser passed the station. From their elevated position they had spent the last fifteen minutes watching a steady stream of cruisers trickle down the hill towards the apartment complex. It seemed like half the town’s police force had been called out to arrest a small group of teenagers smoking pot.

“Just leave the fucking beer and sneak out the same way we did… ” A stream of frantic, garbled gibberish emanated from phone. “I’m sorry man, but there’s no way. We’d be so boned if we went back now… ” More gibberish. “Yeah… Yeah, give us a call when you get out… OK, peace.”

The skeleton hung up. He put the phone back in his pocket and turned towards the two mute shapes.

“Man… They’re fucked.”

★  ★  ★  ★

“End Call.” The Afro pressed the button and slid the phone into his pocket. He slowly turned and faced the room.

It was dark. The foreigner’s outline was barley visible against the curtains.

“They aren’t coming.”

The foreigner’s worried face sank further. He stood mutely staring as if he might throw up. The cases of Pabst sat between the two, suddenly seeming the most stupid, inconsequential things in the world.

“Dude, why the fuck are there so many cops? I thought they’d be gone by now, but more just keep showing up … ” No response. “We’ve gotta get out of here.”

The Afro walked to the window and peaked behind the curtain. There was a clear view of most of the golf course. The majority of the bobbing white lights were to the right, closer to the center of the apartments than the black expanses of trimmed grass. The lights to the left were scattered, spread out unevenly with large stretches between.

“There.” The foreigner slid to window as the Afro stretched out a long, thick finger. “On the side there. There’s no cops that whole way between that fence and the street. We gotta try to run from there, through that big bunch of trees. I know a couple places around that neighborhood that we can hide out where the cops definitely won’t find us.”

He let the curtain fall and glanced briefly at the foreigner before turning back into the room. The two crossed the small space to the entrance. The Afro’s large fingers wrapped around the handle.

“Ready?…” The worried face gave a hesitant nod.

The door swung open. Two shapes slid out of the entrance and down the walkway. They darted from shadow to shadow, crossing to the edge of the units, then the parking lot, then to the long stretch of wooden fencing.

The Afro had been right. The way between the edge of the fence and the dark mass of trees appeared clear. The two figures paused for a moment, then dashed out across the open field.

They were nearly to the safety of the trees when a sudden harsh bark rang out.

“HEY!!!”

A blinding white light exploded over the two shapes.

“STOP!!!”

They didn’t turn around. The shapes’ dash became a frantic sprint.

Time slowed and the distance to the line of trees seemed to stretch on endlessly. Reality gave way to a nightmare. Each step was futile struggle through quicksand. They would not make it.

All at once the darkness of the trees surrounded them like a flood of cold water. They flew between the immense shapes, dodging and ducking limbs, twigs and branches.

A leafy mass slapped the Afro directly in the face. Something sharp and pointy jammed up his nostril. He kept running.

The deadly white light flashed out between the trees to their back. The thudding steps were close behind.

There was some kind of break in the trees ahead. As the Afro passed between the last two trunks the ground was swallowed up by a dark pit.

A creek. He had less than second to find his footing and push into a running leap.

A few moments in the air. A muffled thud. He landed and scrambled back into a sprint without missing a beat. Several seconds later a second thud sounded. The foreigner had made it.

Just as the mass of trees began to re-engulf the two figures a strange sound rang out.

A loud crashing and cracking, followed by an agonized scream. The pair risked a glance back. The pit was glowing with the ominous white light. Their pursuer had fallen headfirst into the dry creek-bed.

They didn’t stop to celebrate their luck. Both figures turned back into the trees. Within seconds they were gone in the darkness.

 ★  ★  ★  ★

Over the next several days the inside man went to work. After discretely dropping questions and hints to various contacts, he was finally able to piece together a picture of events that bizarre night. Why had half the tiny city’s police force appeared to arrest a group of burn-outs getting high in an empty apartment?

They hadn’t. As it turns out, the group’s extraordinary luck in escaping unscathed had immediately followed a streak of horrible luck and unfortunate coincidences.

On the night of their escape, a nearby unit had had an unwelcome visitor. The tenant’s ex-boyfriend, a known gang affiliate with a history of domestic abuse, had arrived unsolicited at her apartment. A confrontation had ensued, ending in the man’s departure, but not before he managed to spew a stream of threats to the unfortunate young woman. In her panic, she had dialed emergency services.

When other tenants in the area were questioned by police, they reported sighting a group of shady, unfamiliar young men lurking nearby. Fearing the worst, the officers on scene had called for back up.

And so it was that the hapless five had gone from public nuisances to public menaces. No more or less than a group of unfortunate idiots, their only lesson best summed up by the Afro’s later reflection:

“I’m just glad the pigs never found the beer.”

End

Grey. If I had to use one word to describe Beijing, it would be grey.

The sky was grey. The buildings were grey. Even the people seemed a bit… grey.

Riding next to me in the two-seater Mercedes Benz was a Chinese girl in her mid-twenties. She was attractive by most anyone’s standards. She had an almond shaped face with large eyes and a small, pointed nose. Her mouth was slightly wider than most Chinese would like but, being the foreigner I was, I had once even thought that was cute.

Let’s call her Lan.

Continue reading “A Gilded Cage” →

Shanghai was everything Christie Fisher could want in a city. It was sprawling and alive, full of opportunities and bizarre experiences. To the pretty and bubbly young American, it was her kingdom. It didn’t hurt that when she spoke with the locals, her light Carolina twang became a stream of perfect Mandarin. To most Chinese, she was the enthralling epitome of the perfect westerner.

Of course, if most Chinese knew that Christie also enjoyed a range of amoral Western pastimes, such as getting high and clubbing until four o’clock in the morning, they would likely have a very different opinion of their blue-eyed princess. These disgraceful activities were the mark of “bad children”, black sheep in this conservative society.

Continue reading “天高皇帝遠 — Heaven is High and the Emperor is Far” →

If you have seen accounts of animal society, behaviors, and the ecosystems they live in, you may have had a strange realization. We are not so different from them. Not just in biological needs like food or sex, but in all of our various strategies and interactions. The structure of our society and the games we play are in so many ways simply the laws of the jungle, played out in towering hives of concrete and steel. For better or for worse.

Rodrigo was a cockroach of a man. Greasy, skittering and shifty, he spent his days lurking in a corner of the office with antennae flicking back and forth across a computer screen. His bulging eyes were constantly glued to an assortment of social media and video streaming sites, only flicking away long enough to glance up at approaching threats.

Continue reading “弱肉強食 — The Law of the Jungle” →

The morning light was almost pretty shining across the endless rows of corn stalks. The pale sun bathed everything in a clean, yellow-grey light. Silence and stillness filled the air, broken only by the occasional rustling as a breath of wind moved through the leafy stems. The soft drone of the tires against the asphalt was almost soothing.

Everything was OK. Adequate and satisfactory.

Continue reading “The Corn Road” →

Gravel crunched and crackled under the SUV’s heavy rubber treads. Even after hours on the winding country roads the sound was oddly pleasant. The sun was low in the sky and had begun to cast a warm golden light over the grasses and trees passing by the sides of the road.  We were some thirty-odd minutes from our destination, still deep in the patchwork of sprawling countryside and small towns that dominate the American South.

I didn’t usually enjoy driving, but on this occasion it was quite nice. Feeling the movements of the large, sturdy vehicle respond to the motions of my hand on the wheel was oddly empowering.  I owned this machine. I was steering it where I wanted to go. I had all the time in the world to get where I was going. I didn’t have to go there at all if I didn’t want to.

It was a good feeling. Control, strength and self-determination. The master of my own life.

Continue reading “The Bogeyman” →

Disgusting. I was disgusting.

The thick dreadlocks in my hair were matted with sweat and various other liquids. Most of my body was sticky, although I couldn’t really remember why. I assumed it was something to do with my peeling sunburn and the general layer of grime covering my skin. My eyes were bloodshot and sunken from days of drinking and sleep deprivation. I’m certain I must have smelled terrible, although in my present state I was no longer consciously aware of this.

I watched the Thai countryside speed by through the window of the small van ferrying me and nine others northward from Bangkok. As I drifted in and out of consciousness, images from the past week flashed through my mind.

Continue reading “Lost in Translation” →