北京麻雀 (Sparrows of Beijing)

东 London, 2001 - 02

2

Somewhere in Northwestern Pennsylvania

1999

Miles away, and months before, that he remembered. It was in a frozen town in what looked like an idyllic slice of nothingness, with the nearest small town with a college the only bright point on the map, otherwise the dewdrop naturalism, and the exhaust of so-called civilization. About 125 years ago it had been booming as the first place to discover oil and began dripping for it. But then it had stopped, though a few rich and elegant houses were run as B-and-Bs. And nothing had changed until the local cable company had begun buying up other small cable companies, and it formed a powerhouse. A powerhouse of little cable companies all under one roof. The lords made money on tax cuts, for the income they had generated - their check was in the mail before they collected anything from the customer. Customers, of course, had to pay taxes upfront.¹ It is in the Prolegomena to any Future Metaphysics.²

He looked past all of that and imagined the fine brick house with open fields. And the continued Words that he had been writing,³ and it was not particularly in their favor that he worked out the particulars of their Annunciation. It was from a time when he was down in Haiti, and he was working on a nonfictional piece, first describing how their language worked. Because it was not French – though it is basis was. Though he was driving, in reality, he was thinking about the part of the text that explained how their language came to be. He fiddles and diddles with language, but it breaks apart into shards and shrieks. Torrents of epidemiological foolishness in prokaryotes were all that came.

But it was not exactly correct, but he did not know what to do to fix it. Then he nearly hit a deer and swerved the car to just miss it. For a number of seconds, he was flustered, looking backward, though he knew that he would not see the deer because it was deep night. But he looked back anyway, looking for, what he perceived, as a blessing from above. This should have told him to just drive, but he eventually thought about something else, the work on the programming for the cable company that they were assigned to work for. It was the difference between the developed world and the undeveloped world: developed world people worried about mortgages, while in the undeveloped they worried about food. More people went to bed hungry last night and had no roof to live under. And thus, they shivered with no one to say the music died.⁴

Examining the work that had to be done looking at it from below, it seemed like there was too much to do. Looking from its peak, it would seem like the overlay was a flat pool of water, surrounded by chasms of high cliffs. From different angles, it seemed like there were different problems. Each one was different and thus had a different system on the etched silicone to run it. But there came an instant where there were too many problems involved with this, so programmers from the finest minds were brought in to do something about it. But what the programmers had in mind was to hire people and rent them to the cable company, marking up the price. They did not care if anything was done, just so long as they booked profits to the cable company and had no responsibility for actually doing anything. Tick ticka tick. And many of the programmers were from India, just a few years away from the poor classes. And they knew what would happen if they failed: let the poor freeze in the dark to save the wealthy class. Why didn't we all think of that? It is screaming from Interpretation of Dreams in reverse.⁵ Dead and gone.⁶

One of the – alleged – programmers came up to him. Though actually, Scott was doing something else instead: he was trying to pull out people who would be valuable and leave the rest to sink into the mire. This was approved of by the programmers above him because they and he knew that there was going to be an awful mess even in code. Hello, World!⁷ You see, there was fraud going on, and while either they or he, knew exactly what it was, the system was performing oddly. So oddly, that there was only one explanation: someone had been tinkering with the many short shift programs. What they wanted to do, no one but the minions knew - but whatever it was, the outside programmers did not want to know. What the cable company was up to no one could say. Just so long as everyone was out of the blast radius. Which, logically, someone would have to be inside the blast radius – but they all hoped it would be the investors. And the investors would take the losses – and be done with it. Or so went the plan that everyone agreed to without anyone saying so. A dune out of reach with ruled lines,⁸ for thine eyes have seen all thine have salvation.⁹

It was this in mind while he sat there, hopefully doing enough work so that he could bill for the hours, while not touching the core systems. Because whatever had been done to them was liable to, in a metaphorical sense, blow-up. And he was told in no uncertain terms not to have anything to do with this. Though he might be tempted to do something about this, for the moment, he would obey the restrictions - though he constantly thought of what it could be about. For example, he knew that the head director was not who he said he was. Because of the name on the wall along with someone who had died shortly after birth. Which meant that the man walking around was not who the internet said he was.

Thoughts spun around in the back of his mind, being thought of, but not to do anything with. Largely he was playing with the various programs and making it as if he was doing something with them. He put notations on the white pages that noted what he was doing, he did not want to say that he was intentionally not fiddling with the real problem. He had not done anything yet, instead prodded around systems that he did not think had any value. The other program that was on the screen – of course they were Macintosh systems, sporting the latest and greatest System X – was a chat program, whose roots went back to the days when a graphic user interface was not mentioned. It had been emptying for a long while, and largely he used it to text messages to other programmers. It was something to do when he got bored, and by that time the era of Ragtime had run out, with the heavy breath of a machine.¹⁰

Then it woke up, and a person who he had not known started to ask him a question. This was odd, but not completely so. People up at this hour were, largely, as bored as the majority of the world that was awake were, in fact, they would be asleep if they were not being paid. He thought about turning the chat application to just his friends because he did not want to engage in conversation with a stranger. But he stopped himself. Just so long as he did not tell what was doing, there should be no harm – and then he realized he was sure whether he was talking to a man or a woman. Because he knew that persons who acted like females, but were males, mostly they were trying to find out what people were doing, either personal or political or just to say “Hi”. And in a large number of instances, while they said that they had nothing to do with the system, actually they were predators engaged by the system executives. Largely to find out what was going on by accident.¹¹

Quietly looked around the vast room. Once upon a time, it had been a gymnasium, with a high roof and windows projecting out of the rooftops. But then it had been converted to a gigantic workroom, whose sole mission was to take customer complaints, and as far as he could tell meticulously annotate the complaint, and then to ignore them. What he was looking for was someone tapping at the keys at the same time that his computer was outputting. Most people would not have noticed this, but he could. It was a gift between the ears and the eyes, each one noticing what the other was doing. Apparently, not everyone had it. He tapped out “hello” on his keyboard, hoping to see if anyone typed back. He knew that the evening boss was talking to a friend because a glimmer of the output showed that the boss was laughing. And his hands were not moving very much, so obviously his friend was doing most of the talking.

He waited on the other people but did not see anything come through. He relaxed, if the person was on the system, it was not in this enormous room. There were, of course, other places that the person could be typing from, but most of them were closed. He typed in “Hello”.

And waited for about half a minute. Then he confirmed that his conversation was indeed from China, as the window said. He just had to be sure.

“I am here. Where are you from?”

“From out of them everywhere, and into the here.”¹² Quoting a favorite bit of childhood poetry. What surprised him was the response:

“So, you know a little bit of George McDonald.” He did not think she would know the ending unless she was truly British. But in another window, he had traced her, and it said she was in China, this was a deeper protocol than the first, so much harder to fool. He did not think that anybody working for the cable company you the ways that were deep under the hood. So, she could be British working at some Internet café. Or which was just as surprising, she could be a Putonghua woman with a great deal of knowledge. Either way, it was a surprising combination to occur. And that confirmed for him, she was in no way connected with anything resembling the cable company. They had foreigners, some of whom he liked, but primarily they were from India, speaking Tamil or Hindu. There were flaws in their English which did not happen with this person. Though of course, he would have to check by inserting questions that a Hindi or Tamil would screw upon. It helped that his boss was a Tamil speaker as well, so he could check whether he found a good question for Tamil speakers. And his opposite number for another consultant company spoke Hindi as their native language. Can music save your mortal soul?¹³

Thinking about her, she probably was married. She had batted away his questions on irrelevant things, which meant she was married and not interested in dallying with him, and he did not know if she would dally with anyone. That was the problem, most of the world wants someone who looks like themselves. Only a few want someone who looks different.

He realized he had not been typing for a moment, and so began with the first thing in his head. “So, what got you interested in British poetry?”

“I had a book. Or rather my father had a book.”

“Only one? Is that by accident?”

“Several.” Since this was typing, one could not say what she would be like in the real world.

He arched his eyebrows. “And what was your father?”

“Both my parents were professors at BU.”¹⁴

“BU?” He thought Boston University.

“Beijing University.” The Universities were the same: the dross of management.

He thought to himself, a university is where artistic movements spend their last moments before death. When old Black Joe’s still pickin’ cotton.¹⁵

The admission sat there, like a naked lunch – There were 3 top-flight universities in Beijing at that time: The Central Conservatory – for music – Tsinghua – for technology – and Beijing University – for everything else (though in America it was called PKU.) There were, of course, many other schools, but there was prestige in three. That explained a great deal. Even in the dark regions of the recent past, even then there was a quest for knowledge about the outside. And so, it was not surprising to meet someone who was interested in America or England. That might be what he or she was interested in, he did not even know his, or her, age. And he did not know if he or she wanted more than just conversation, and he did not know whether he wanted more than just conversation. These are the things that go through the mind when one is blurry, so blurry in fact that one asks the question.

A simple way was to answer these questions. Satan laughing with delight.¹⁶

“How old are you? And may I ask you your name?” The name as written did not mean anything, and then he realized if you took the letters literally it could be translated as “When and where”, which could be innocuous, or it could be a lurid suggestion. But the lurid suggestion would suggest that he or she would be hunting for local people. So, it seemed likely that the just friends were likely. Inevitably, most people would have asked “ASL?” right away. Meaning, of course, “Age, Sex, Location?” Though the hetero- or homo- nature was already implied by where you met. Usually, though some people would pretend to be the opposite sex. This did not bother him, there were ways of finding out before you met someone - which he was not sure he was going to – what their real gender was. It did not bother him, because he felt that some people were of the wrong gender, and he was sure that soon enough, there would be a fix for them. However he wanted someone who was sex-matched because eventually, he wanted children if it came to that.

“Do you want to know my ASL?”¹⁷ She or he had been thinking along the same lines and had a response.

“Imagine we met in real life. I would know your gender. And my gender is apparent from the name.”

There was a bit of processing going on, and then the gender appeared.

“Female. Why do you want to have sex?”

“I would have to be very long to have sex at this moment.”

“We could play. If that is what you want.”

“What is it that you want?”

“I can do that, but I do not have to. Interesting conversation is fine.” She or he had passed several ruptures which would have meant that he or she was not Indian. He kept track of these things, and admitted so to his boss, when they were drinking about an hour of the road, at the last really good meal to be had. It was rather good, especially because in this neck of the woods there were slightly fewer places that they could be. In this place, there was a Subway and a Chinese restaurant whose inmates chained themselves for the endless ride.¹⁸ And that was it, and the Chinese restaurant was new. It had just opened one week ago. That formed one of the bases for Indian selection: ask whether they liked General Tso's Chicken because 1. General was invented in Taiwan and 2 this was the not original variation – or so it was claimed.

“Then let us have an interesting conversation, then.” In typing. He was sure that he or she was not spying on him, but he was not sure that one of the people in the room would have a question for him. And that would mean coming up beside him, and she – because almost everyone in the room behind him was a “she” - would happen to glance at his screen. This would not do.¹⁹ Cyber is complicated but animated in a sirwilligar Sierpinskian serpent recursive tangle.

Offhandedly with grace from his fingers: “You know I am not the sort of person who just takes a person out.” Which was mostly true, but in most, there were deep pits of falsehood.

And from “her”: “I understand.”

The main window on the OS had stopped processing his last command, so he checked off the command and started another one. All the while looking for a response from all the way across the world in China. He still did not know what age she was, but it was highly likely she could not be beyond 35. Which if he wanted to something could be arranged, there were plenty of positions in China, should the need arise. Realized that going to China in his position was not the same stretch, the vistas were open, and China was a cheap airfare away from him. It opened his eyes. And he had some money, not a lot mind you, but more than enough to indulge a fantasy. Or several fantasies, because he liked Chinese girls a great deal, and there were few enough in his line of work in the US. Some males, but not too many females. There were more Indian females than Chinese females, truth be told. But it wasn’t so he heard the eager dream voice chant. He was a slave to money then he died.²⁰ Worse than a dive.

Realized that over the last few months, he had been a bit risqué, and he decided right then and there to stop it with people he had met in the workplace and were connected with him by business. He realized that that would be impolite, at best. Better to not mix work and pleasure, especially because the real power behind the throne was not the head of business, nor even his three sons. It was the wife, and she had ways of slapping down such people. She ruled her dominion with an iron(y), hand down to the boards that made up cubicles. And that went for sex on the job, she would have none of that here. (And since there was almost no other field to be into but the cable conglomerate, this meant something more than if it was in a city. Select * from cities where pop < 10000;)

He was under 40 but had learned that everything was measured by someone, and for almost every activity someone noticed. And largely disproved of whatever the activity was if it was not making money for them. That did not mean that sex was forbidden, because sex for profit was encouraged, but sex after hours with no money exchanged was absolutely forbidden. The world went round in many strange ways: prostitution was fine, but sex was not fine. The banks who ran - ultimately - the system were pushers and we, the users, were addicts.

Realizing that a question had come into the text on the screen, and then another. He had been working on the next command. And then he saw another question:

“Are you there?”

He immediately typed in: “Sorry I was busy at my job.”

“Your work on the job?”

“Yes.”

“You poor thing. Do you need to get back to it?”

He looked both ways before answering the question, he wanted to be sure he was not going to be interrupted.

“I just need to type in a few keywords and let them run.”

“Then we can plan a trip :)”

“I do not know your name. In fact, the name which I call you has a dbl-entendre.”

“What is wrong with that?”

“I do not think we should need each other until we are on a first-name basis. What do you think?”

There was quiet, and then, slowly, a string of text began to stream out of the window.

“Do you want to be with me? Because I think you know I'm female.” Actually, now that it was put on the table, he did know that she was a woman, and he wanted to know whether she was truly a she. A morass descended on that part of the anatomy which still shook his soul. His frontal cortex only slowed down the hormones.

How did this go? I put my arms around him yes and drew him down so he could feel my breasts all her from yes and his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I yes. That was from Ulysses, and a bit with a dog.²¹ But he did not say that. But the meaning was clear.

Strange swoop, he risked everything to say by the keyboard:

“Yes. If you are pretty, anyway, I will. Remember what I said about not taking anyone to bed quickly.” She vowed that he would not spend a pleasant life laughing and me.²²

If you are pretty. Whatever that was supposed to mean? In a novel, or a play by Eugene O'Neill? Pretty was what someone was when they were not strikingly beautiful, but not plain enough to notice. What he did not consider was that what was interpreted as silence was, in fact, a trepidation on her side.

Then she announced: “Just a minute, I will change my account for you.” And in less than a minute, she was back as, and the name was “SparrowForOnlyU”. He wondered if she was called sparrow before, perhaps that is why she chose this – or perhaps this was something she had practiced with many people. But there ever afterward, he looked for the name incessantly. Even when he had to make up an excuse to see his real bosses and come up with a reason to explain why he was doing what he did. It seems impossible, but in fact, was likely that there were people at the top scheming wondrous schemes. And he knew that that was exactly what he did not wish for. Why could he not slip into a dull routine? He looked over at the Wall Street Journal, and for once it was a quiet day, but eventually, they would kick the market ever higher.²³ But Ozymandias was going to lose. It is in the poem.

1 In the fine script, Ardelle Li paid with the thought:

Why are we paying for this?

egregious unprovoked violence

practices governing rallying

financing surveillance punishment

prisons starves

distinctions stark

expansive expansive

Skewed incarceration

2 Reference to Kant.

3 No, it Words not words. As in logos to got with Annunciation.

4 Reference to Don McLean, “American Pie”

5 Reference to Freud to Jung thinking on it in Memories, Dreams, Reflections.

6 Queen, “All Dead”

7 The first program to get to run.

8 In reference to Herbert, Dune

9 Burgon, "Nunc Dimittis" played after Tinker, Taylor, Soldier, Spy on the BBC.

10 EL Doctorow (1931 – 2015) Ragtime 1975

11 Op cit

12 George Macdonald (1824–1905)

Where did you come from, baby dear?

Out of the everywhere into the here.

Where did you get those eyes so blue?

Out of the sky as I came through.

What makes the light in them sparkle and spin?

Some of the starry spikes left in.

Where did you get that little tear?

I found it waiting when I got here.

What makes your forehead so smooth and high?

A soft hand strok’d it as I went by.

What makes your cheek like a warm white rose?

I saw something better than anyone knows.

Whence that three-corner’d smile of bliss?

Three angels gave me at once a kiss.

Where did you get this pearly ear?

God spoke, and it came out to hear.

Where did you get those arms and hands?

Love made itself into bonds and bands.

Feet, whence did you come, you darling things?

From the same box as the cherubs’ wings.

20

How did they all just come to be you?

God thought about me, and so I grew.

But how did you come to us, you dear?

God thought about you, and so I am here.

13 Don McLean, “American Pie”

14 He probably thought of Boston University

15 Leonard Cohen, “Everybody Knows”

16 Don McLean, “American Pie”

17 Age/Sex/Location

18 Riff on Ginsberg, Howl.

19 Pink Floyd, “The Trial”

20 The Verve, “Bittersweet Symphony”

21 Shakespeare in Love, again.

22 Reference to Euripides, Medea, L. 1356, Translated Kovacs. Original: οὐδ᾽ ἡ τύραννος, οὐδ᾽ ὅ σοι προσθεὶς γάμους

23 In her fine hand, Ardelle Li noted:

step, kick, kick, leap, kick, touch.

bombastic combative valorous ruinous

theatrical Shakespeare allegiances

tragedy Of course.

ludicrousness glutted fictional faux-Presidential

step, kick, kick, leap, kick, touch.