Our hero Clete remains incarcerated, sentenced to drudgery meant to improve his character and cultivate good Buddha nature. Qi is about to learn that such a penal system will never work on an engineer. They will just continue to refine processes and materials to make things more efficient.
We move on to his second day in jail, but this time from Fei's point of view.
The story continues ...
[Reporter’s note: It
seems that the Second Chilin Guardian Princess [Fei] was actually self-aware
enough to keep some notes about this time period. This is totally out of
character for her. I actually complimented her on the fact that she could write
something that was not a tutor’s assignment. For some reason, she thought I was
being sarcastic and became petulant reluctant to share—this is her true
character. At her mother’s insistence, I must add, she finally cooperated.]
[A relevant entry from
Fei’s journal]
Island Time: Dragon,
Month 7, Day 1, Xingqi 5
[U.S. Time: Friday, August 17, 2012]
[U.S. Time: Friday, August 17, 2012]
I am not one to keep a diary, after
watching our houseguest Dr. Wong last night taking the time to write everything
down that happened yesterday, I asked him about it. He said it is a good habit
to form. “Record observations over time. It is absolutely essential to be a
good scientist, or even just a person who wants to improve oneself.” He has
said this in our classes. But I see that he does it himself. I am going to try.
We finished our weeding duties in
one of the north gardens early, so we were released. Some of the Seconds were
going to practice diving with the snorkels. I was invited but there were other
things I needed to do. I came back home and found Dr. Wong outside in the yard.
I still had to get used to seeing him out of his usual khaki bush outfit. He
had brought a table out into the sunlight and was hunched over looking
carefully through a mounted magnifying glass and was working with some tools.
“Hello Dr. Wong.”
“I think I hear Faye there. Hello! You’re early.”
“Work is completed. Would you like me to help you with prepping today’s
mash?”
“It’s done.”
“Your skin is not accustomed to being exposed to the sun. You are
starting to burn.”
He
did not look up. “Am I? I hadn’t noticed.”
“May I apply some thanaka?”
“What’s that?”
“An orange paste made from tree bark that we wear to cool and protect
the skin. It’s something one of the grandmothers from the Third Branch
tradition brought from her country.”
“Oh really? In my country we call it sunblock. Sure. Need me to get up?”
“Stay where you are, I’ll grind some.”
I made up some the paste and put it on his back, shoulders,
and face. I drew little flowers and faces into the paste so that he would have
patterns in his tan after he washed up. That will be very funny. He was doing
some very close work with some of the bugs.
“So do I look like I have war paint on? Ooogah boogah!”
“Excuse me?”
“Don’t mind me. Just being racially insensitive. I think I just offended
three ethnic groups.”
“What are you doing with those bugs?”
“Attaching artificial legs.”
On the table he had set up an
enameled tray. Several tiny creatures, insects, spiders, centipedes, and the
like, were all gathered about as he was carefully gluing tiny, hair-thin silver
wires onto a beetle. I started to ask
him about this when there started a rumbling sound from behind the cottage.
“Sounds like another batch is done. Come on, I’ll show you what I’m
doing over there.”
Behind the house was a machine with
a metal drum spinning with things that were clattering about inside. He shut it
off, unloaded as many coconuts as would fit inside that could be agitated. All been
worn smooth as buffed metal. He threw them into a large basket. He then reached
inside and gathered all the wet fibrous material, the coir, that had been knocked
off the nuts. He put that all into and area he had set up to dry in the sun.
“Another three batches and we’re done.”
“That’s amazing. You just started doing that this morning? That takes
forever by hand.”
“Nothing like an industrial tumbler. Started it up as soon as your
mother left. I’m surprised she left me alone. I think I convinced her I would
not escape.”
“Escape?”
“Sorry. Poor choice of words. I am staying here for a bit.”
“About that. Why ARE you staying with us? For how long?”
“Another couple of days. As to why, ask your mother about that.”
“This fiber has been really tenderized. It’s almost garment-soft. We use
it for making rope.”
“Your mother is not due back early is she?”
“No. If anything, she’ll be late. Why?”
“Faye, I am going to surprise her at some point at how quick I am with
these assigned tasks. So let’s just keep my machine work a secret, shall we?”
“You got it Dr. Wong. I like secrets and surprises.”
“Atta girl.”
“You’re not hurting those bugs are you?”
“No,” he said as we walked back to his worktable, “or I am not trying to.
I noticed so many of the bugs that live in your perimeter are injured and
missing body parts—missing legs mostly. I had gathered a few to see why they
behave the way they do here. They’re docile. Got me wondering why. I realized I
had some titanium wire about the size of their legs and decided to design and
graft little legs onto them to return some of their balance and mobility, just
to see if I could. That’s all. Their reflexes are all off. See how they all
gather together as I work on this guy? That should not be happening. They’re
all different species. They should be attacking one another.”
“It’s not strange. They are helping each other out. They’re guiding the
new limb into the best spot as you attach it.”
"Don’t be silly. It’s probably a chemical
imbalance.”
“All creatures can be very collaborative, Dr. Wong. What kind of glue
are you using?”
“Sap from the tree in the corner. I tried spirit-adhesives in my kit but
they were too toxic for the little guys.”
“Is the end of the new leg sharp or dull?”
“Everything at that micro a level is sharp to us. Titanium, however, is
more rigid than any part of their exoskeleton. They could puncture me if they
wanted to, but they’ve been behaving themselves.”
“How many have you done?”
“I stopped counting. They kept showing up. I’ll try to gather them up
again tomorrow and see how they’re all doing. I’ve given some little loops or
hooks on the ends as well.”
“I was asked to bring you your phone. Mother said you need to call your
banker or your office?”
“Excellent. Excuse me for minute.”
The Professor punched in a number
and gave instructions to someone on the other side. He was speaking in his
English business jargon, so I did not quite understand everything he was
saying.
“Do me a favor Faye. Before you take that phone away. Snap a couple of
pictures of me as I sit with some of the Soul Birds. They’ve gotten used to me.
I want to send them as joke to a ornithologist friend of mine. She’ll get a
kick out of seeing these weird birds and she’ll laugh her ass off seeing my own
flabby tush in a fundoshi. She’s Japanese. She’ll think I’m on a drunken bender.
Hah!”
At the time I wanted to ask why he
thought I would be taking the phone away. But I did as he said and he then
pushed a few buttons and sent his pictures on their way.
“Battery’s low—plug it in to recharge and give it to your mom when she
gets back.”
“What are those two containers of fluid?”
“The cloudy one is my sweat, collected. As I was sitting here working I
was swarmed by everything in the yard.”
“They weren’t biting you were they? They’re not supposed to.”
“No. I think they were licking the salt in my sweat. Waving them off
didn’t keep them away. So I sat out in the sun for a while in such a way as to
let the sweat drip off of me into that container. Once I had enough I just set
it alongside me so they’d go there instead. Gross hunh? But it worked. They all
got off my face and back. That’s the leftovers.”
“That’s a LOT!”
“You haven’t noticed have you? I’ve done nothing but shed moisture since
I came on this damn hell-hole of an island. Getting twice that much was easy!”
“And the dark one?”
“My blood.”
“What?”
“I drew out about 4 ounces using my medical kit. All the bugs here are
moving in slow motion. I thought if I offered them a blood meal, karma free,
they’d get a little better. Everybody who wanted a sip has been. That’s also
leftovers.”
“Do you think there is there something special about your blood and
sweat that the bugs like?”
“No. I’m type O-negative. That’s about it.”
“Mind if I take them?”
“Why? This not some kind of weird voodoo ritual of yours is it? You
going to turn me into a zombie? If so, no.”
“I know someone very sensitive to various salts. You are a novel source
to The Island. I have an idea.”
“Really? I smell a research project. Let’s hear your hypothesis. Now you
have ME curious.”
“Not yet. Please?”
“OK, but be careful working with human physiological substances. We need
to have the bioethics lesson sometime. I suppose I should start prepping our
dinner then. Rice porridge and fresh herbs and greens?”
“Don’t bother. Auntie Feng will be sending Wen over with dinner for us
tonight and Wen will join us.”
“I don’t think your mother will approve. She wants me to do the drudge
work.”
“She never refuses Feng’s cooking, EVER. Don’t worry. Why are you doing
labor here for us anyway?”
“Again, ask your mother. I apologize for being here and disrupting your
household rhythms.”
“Why apologize? I enjoy hearing you and Mother have spirited
conversations. It’s a lot of fun. You two joke with each other a LOT.”
“Faye? Hang on a minute. Let’s get this straight. Your mother and I do
NOT like each other. OK? Don’t be mistaking our banter for anything other than
verbal sparring in animosity. Do NOT associate our behavior with anything
positive. I do NOT want you taking away false impressions that will cause you to
have bad relationships with men. Got that? We are NOT a good example.”
“Whatever you say, Professor. You sure say ‘DO NOT’ a lot. Are you sure you're not somebody's father?”
© Copyright 2012 by Vincent Way, all rights reserved.
