a secret society granting wishes

‘Remember? We used to grant wishes.’ The man smiled. ‘Do you need to realize a wish?’

Sevjo was recalling memories.

‘You know we can. I saw you walking around the woods. Is there something or someone inside that you yearn for?’

You can do that for me? Sevjo thought.

‘Anything, try us. You know, we’re more powerful today.’

‘I want to find...’ But Sevjo was hesitate to say the name out. He knew well once he gave the name, Tane would never be at peace again.

‘It’ll be a good chance for us to show you how good we are now.’ The man showed a smile with unexplainable conceit.

‘I need to think it over.’ Sevjo lowered his voice.

‘I’ll be around and won’t go away unless you tell me a definite no. You know the rules.’ Then he walked away slowly.

Sevjo showed pain in his eyes. I need to go away to hide from them, from this continent. As he walked on he thought a lot. Then he knew he can ask them to place him in other continent. He was bored with this one. Where should I go? Then he thought of Africa. Tane came from Australasia, and wandered here. Why can’t I go to Africa, the Sahara...

Cross-continental projection.

an old friend, an old society

A man wearing a dark fur coat approached Sevjo. ‘You’re German?’

Sevjo shook his head. He sensed something.

‘Would you like a ride?’

‘No.’

‘You can have a reward for that.’

‘No. I don’t need any money.’

The man spoke in a low voice, ‘Not money. It’s a credit for you to do many things.’

Sevjo stepped back and was ready to run.

Then the man spoke out a strange name. Upon this, Sevjo stood still.

‘You still remember. Then come, we can get together. You can lead a better life than this.’

‘What’s the meaning of going on like...?’

The man’s eyes under the dark thick hair were forceful. ‘We’ve changed. We’re different from our former selves. You don’t want to live like this again, do you?’

‘There’s nothing bad about this living...’

‘You know well this is bad. We’re different now. Come back and join us again.’

Sevjo was speechless.

Tane vanished in the dark forest

The next morning, Tane set off for the forest.

Sevjo stopped at the sight of the trees. He thought: Why does he want to go into the forest? He knows I’m following, so in the forest he can chase me back? He can kill me there if he wants to. Suddenly the dark forest seemed a barrier of trees melted into a continental blockage.

It took Sevjo courage and hope on the positive side to follow Tane into the forest. Once in it, Sevjo felt hard to breathe. He lost sight of Tane who seemed dissolved into the complicating trunks and deep foliage. Sevjo found himself lost. He could retreat, but then he would lose Tane, maybe forever. They had just met for so short a time. Would Sevjo want to leave his would-be angel in this dark woody...then he recalled what the name Tane originated. Yes, he was the god of trees. He shall revive in the woods by probing into this mid-summer night dreamland. He gains spirit. But can I?

Sevjo went out of the forest, wandering outside. He didn’t know which was the right direction. He hopelessly pondered. Once in a while he went inside the woods again, then out. Tane was nowhere to be traced.

Laurasia and Gondwanaland

9/11
Why did he pretend not knowing I’m the person that was following him?

Then Sevjo was aware of this consciousness. Haunted, by so clearly of what he is doing. Conscious of consciousness. Observing myself in the end, to the end, without an end...

When Sevjo finally got up, he could only manage to track a weak signal of Tane. He tried hard to get closer to him despite feeling hungry.

I interrupted. Why do you write all these? Is it related to me?

My future me replied, ‘Yes, but not now. We’ll meet them in the end of this century.’

What? The end of the century? That’s still a long way to go.

‘Believe me. You aren’t dead yet by then.’

Sevjo found the place Tane spent the night. He wanted to check in, but had not. He left himself some hope by looking upwards from outside the motel to those rooms with or without light. It created hope. He wanted himself to bear a thread of hope.

In his room Tane was reading a book on Laurasia. In it he noticed Gondwanaland as well. The north and south. Why it is two, instead of three? Tane thought. What if some people, or aliens, bear the mentality of the three, the trinity, the trio, to view the magnetic field, would they still regard the the world as two?

the dire condition of a transitory epoch

A coming vehicle projected a warning sound. Sevjo looked at it, then at Tane who happened to glance at him from some distance away.

He knows I’m following him? Sevjo thought, then stopped walking, and toned his meter which looked like a PDA. On it Tane’s location was fixed. Something on Tane was locked up on the meter.

Sevjo did not want to sit down, fearing he would fall asleep and never wake up again. He stood again. Tane was coming towards him. Sevjo sat down.

‘Hi.’ Tane said to Sevjo.

Sevjo looked up. When he saw the eyes again, he was speechless. He was reminiscent of the desperation that long plagued this continent, some generations and now himself. Something that remained him of the protest against the dire condition of a transitory epoch.

He closed his eyes and looked down, not daring to look into hope.

‘Do you know where I can get to...’ Tane half knelt to show him a map.

Sevjo looked at the part of map. Once I was there. He wanted to show the direction, but his finger and mouth were hung and freezed.

‘Okay, I’ll find my way. Sorry to have disturbed you.’ Tane stood up and walked on.

in the vast mediocracy of everyday life, Sevjo noticed Tane

Tane met many people. Some he still remembered, some forgot. There was one person who fell in the forget realm. His name is Sevjo. He saw Tane as people coming from another continent. In the vast mediocracy of everyday life, he noticed him.

Sevjo took out something square, browsed the Web and found the meaning of ‘Tane’. It is not a brand name. He thought. Who would wear one’s name on the clothing?

Then they caught sight of each other. Just by that glimpse Sevjo was moved. He thought he had found something uncommon. Not a city dweller. Not a flesh dweller. In a while he stood up, following the pace of Tane, in fear of losing the trace of a would-be angel.

Sevjo recorded his own move, his direction and Tane’s, starting a unique journey. Then he knew Tane was wandering. He thought: how long have I not wandered any more? I lose myself in this city junkle. I hate it but I am hopeless, not even walking, just sit there and watch the summon of lethal accident that thrown upon me or nearby, so that the decision to suicide is not up to me. But why am I attracted to this... wandering entity? I fall in love with him? No, it can’t possibly be. I am not in love with anyone, anything, at anytime anymore. What is my hope? To kill him, to help him? Am I still thinking myself an angel, like him, who would help?

writing about the future Tane

Well, you can tell me about those future things and I can write...for you.

‘I can’t tell you everything.’

Do you know where is Tane?

‘I know. I would write it out. Then you’ll know.’

Can’t you tell me now?

‘I’m not your private prophet.’

How can I know you’re are creating something out?

‘You can check it out. But then it costs you efforts and lots of time. Do you really need to know where a person is? As long as you know he/she is alive and well, there’s no need to ask more or know more.’

I grew speechless.

X X X X X

‘This is the future me, the future version of Gt, writing.’

Tane met his father in England, only to know his mother died earlier. He felt sad and could not bear to stay in her house. He left for home. Then he recalled Gt telling him Cancer is at times a wanderer, so he started to do so. Just one try and he believed in it.

He wandered in the old Western legacy as a foreigner. Tane did not mind his father or others blaming him for wandering around, from his mother’s homeland to elsewhere. He did not mind losing contact with his friends or Gt or CoDa.

There have been so many souls wandering and drifting on this piece of continent ever since human history, what am I to resist if I am already here? He thought. Gt would know.

Dual identity saying: I know, but 21st century Gt doesn’t, not in the beginning. Until now.

the future Gt is writing about the present Gt

X X X X X

How can I switch to the future me to write?

It is a result of a conversation between me and the future me, alias ex- /internal
mono- /dialogue. I requested the talking be recorded as physical evidence of I wasn’t talking to myself, and the future me agreed. But then it was me who finally decided not to record and show it to others. If people define this as monologue, so be it. Maybe it would be easier for them.

I ask: how can you replace me as the present me in writing ?

‘If I can talk to you in this way, why not? The important thing is whether you believe I’m the future you, or, whether I believe you’re the historical me.’

Seemed puzzled. If you’re real, what you write about is real, does it pose any threat to anyone in this world?

‘Shouldn’t be. As I know something about the past, I try to avoid bad consequences. But then it may change something.’

Like what?

‘Your consciousness, in the first place. I am seeking to synchronize with you across time and space. You would know something about the near future, but you’re not allowed to change it, otherwise it may cause damage to others and yourself. And I’ll try my best to stop you and constrain your efforts.’

Why should I let you write for me?

‘Because you decide it.’

What if I don’t approve.

‘I won’t do it. But since you’re me, I know something about you, and I believe you would decide to let me write for you.’

CoDa, Tane, and me

I turned round and saw Tane outside the window glass. He came in, holding three cups, smiling to meet us.

‘Long time no see.’ I smiled, ‘You look grown up a bit.’

He handed us each a cup of coffee. ‘Yeah... My father went to Europe. I joined him later, then back in a month’s time.’

‘Good.’ I said, taking a sip. The coffee smelt good.

Tane looked around, caught sight of a larger drawing up high on the wall.

‘That’s a new one.’ CoDa said in a coffee-warmed tone.

‘Do you need another disc?’ He asked.

‘Cool. Why not. Maybe it works again.’

‘How’s your school?’ I asked Tane.

‘I finish all the course works earlier. In the coming school year I’ll jump up two levels.’

‘Bravo.’ CoDa seemed to say it for me.

Tane asked, ‘I read your book. The part on the future you, is it true?’

‘Don’t believe what a fiction writer says.’

‘A writer like him, even so.’ CoDa said.

We both smiled at her. She looked at us, with a strange look on her face.

I asked, ‘What?’

‘...Hard to say. You two looked alike, in the line.’

We talked for a short while at that time. I thought I can leave something to talk with Tane afterwards, so I had not talked much. But after Tane left for Europe, he seemed disappeared. Only a few emails in the beginning, then lost. I guessed he was in Europe, somewhere. I thought we could talk again, but no. I had lost his contact.

Gt met Tane again

Soon the robot was gone, but the harm was done. CoDa had less customers. She resorted to drawing at shop to spend the time. Called me on occasion.

‘Want to meet Tane?’ She said in the cell phone.

‘He’s at your shop now?’

‘Believe or not.’

‘Er, I guess I’d better not see him.’ I hesitated.

‘He said his father was not here. His work at the company is over. That’s a go. Come.’ She hanged up.

I went to her shop. But Tane was not there. I felt disappointed. ‘Gone?’

‘Yeah,’ She looked at me, ‘for a drink.’ Then eyed at outside.

x-world-deform art into 3D robot

It was odd, still is, that someone used CoDa’s x-world-deform art to form the most disgusting robot ever made. It did not resemble human, just a big metallic box. Its front abdomen was transparent, where organs could be seen. It was like one of CoDa’s drawing framed inside the robot, only that it was 3D. First it was only on posters, than a real object standing in the other shop’s car park, sometimes walking around.

Strangely, just by moving around, looking stupid, with CoDa’s drawing into 3D realia, what was originally graphic art tolerable, now becoming sick. People were aware of it. They visited less and gradually disappeared. Yes, a short-lasting vogue only. After the heat was over, people abandoned it and sought for new obsession.

Later, news reported that there was a suspect of commercial spy, leaking information of intelligence design of a high-tech research agent nearby. Tane’s father worked there. Investigation said the suspect was under stress and used some original design from his workplace to make a robot, and mixed with CoDa’s art. He was so excited that when someone let him play the robot, he forgot everything and moved it in the open, near CoDa’s shop.

Tane and CoDa in a cool arena

One day CoDa called me, said someone named Tane came and gave her a music CD. When she played the music along with the projector visual, the effect was good. It seemed music worked. I came to the shop and saw that a new coffee shop and a bar had opened nearby just within these two weeks. In the night they did the same to project images into the open air and play music outside the shops, in the public area, to form a cool arena.

CoDa tried to set a time clock to the projector. Even when the shop was closed, at intervals her expressionistic art shone through the window glass to mix with those in the public arena into a strange kind of beauty landscape. People loved it. And after nights of feeding on the visual of CoDa’s artistic tees, they came back to get one.

CoDa was ‘happppy’, and thanked me because Tane the musician said he was a friend of mine. Yeah. I told CoDa if she ever met Tane again, told him that I missed him and wished him success.

Finally, one day she said Tane came again. She had spread the words. She told me that the boy was in the midst of her arts and tees, once seemed like lost, but then smiling, bewildered in a world of strange acquaintance, went out to the cafe to buy something to drink, sitting on roadside, waiting to see passers-by. Then left.

steel-frame robot model posures, projected as urban mirage

‘To show the frame has life, the first thing is we believe in it. After all these years of robotics, in comics, movies, we can finally make it credible that such a stupid frame can have life. With imagination, it can live. Only that others use working robots, and we make this frame as one.’

‘How, sci-cho reductionism ?’

‘If you can think them out,’ I pointed at the drawings on the wall, ‘you can do a frame.’

Not long after, we found a movable steel frame from a second-hand recycle shop, made it look like a shadow robot or robot shadow. CoDa put the tee on it, and changed the apparel frequently. Then we found a projector, casting the different postures with different tees onto the street so that when cars drove by, they saw something always changing on the road, a virtual robot model. And it became a kind of urban mirage.

It worked. More and more people dropped by, ending up buying something. Of course the customers were not as many as the competitor shop, but CoDa was already contented with the community. She called me pal.

The competitor shop got back at us with costly investment. It used a real robot to wear a tee, selling the brand. CoDa was once discouraged, though not yielding. She used the idle time to draw at the shop, and started to work on big canvass.

using an idea robot as a model

Then there was another shop open around the corner, big with car park. They sold name brands. Not long after it became a chain store. There were promotions. Some emerging teenage idols and pop stars appeared on the posters and in the commercials.

‘What can we hire?’ CaDo asked me, desperately.

‘Except you and me, probably no one.’

‘Dire.’

‘Not nearly. Well, we can use non-human model.’

CoDa turned to look at the drawings on the wall; some were now framed.

‘A robot.’ I said.

She was filled with hope yet skepticism.

‘It’s dehumanized.’

‘Yeah, I know, it fits my theme, but then how can I ever afford it?’ She spoke in a strange tone with pitch.

‘You don’t need a real robot.’ My words were carefree.

‘Not...real ?’ She seemed getting something.

The result was a steel frame, initially animated with an idea of life.

‘Idea, just an idea?’ She doubted.

The art was creative, bio-descriptive and rich in details of a lonesome ontology

Alone the drawings were hard to digest. I once went into the shop, managed to talk to the artist. Her name is CoDa. Well, she dressed neutral but inclined to be female, so I took it a she.

I gave some opinions. One was to place a drawing of hers together with a photo of a well-known landmark, trying to digest the oddness of the x-world-deform art. After a few weeks there was such composition in the size I suggested. It looked very impressive. Not too long someone bought it. CoDa said the money helped her drag the shop through another half year. She thanked me for that. We became friends.

From then on I paid visit to the shop once in a while. NZ is proud of her arts. Some tradition from Britain. But this shop was a sharp contrary to the fine old oil paintings art galleries. The art was creative, bio-descriptive and rich in details of a lonesome ontology. In the drawing there seldom is background. It seemed the entity lives in a white, invisible world, with only its being reflected. Living seems to be an adequate ornament.

Later, she talked about selling tees with her art on. That would be something like the ape or monkey. I agreed with her sales strategy. When she had prepared some tees, she wanted to find a model to dress them on. But no one would do that except herself.

expressionistic tissues in drawing, unnatural adjuncts

I felt sorry for the boy, but then got it over. Without me, he can still have others to talk to. I was just a passer-by who happened to have a little problem of talking slightly more than average, which leading to a big security issue.

Earthquake happened. I thought about Tane’s inner spirit losing control. I saw his emails and managed to reply just a few. I no longer answered his calls. Then he mentioned in his email that he knew about that -- the security issue. His mother hated this subjection and all suspicions. She once said she couldn’t breathe. Tane said he wants to grow up soon to be independent. He won’t care for the family bondage anymore.

“Just don’t think I quit for no reason. Best wishes.” I replied in my last email.

X X X X X

There was a shop which I liked to go. It was special. To some people, it was a shop with no selling point, or point-of-sale. On the walls there were small to medium size drawings, some only on a white or yellowish scrap of paper. No frame.

It was the content of the drawings that attracted me. They were like tissues, organs. Decorative. Expressionistic. With unnatural adjuncts like extra mouths and teeth, over-grown tissue; no bone, just flesh. Consider them once growing in this world as independent life forms and now joined into a bigger living organism.

intelligence design

A lawyer Mark called me, saying he represented Tane’s father. He asked for an appointment with me, which I did. I knew from Tane that his father was a scholar of intelligence design, whatever it means.

The time was before noon. Mark was a white man with good pronunciation. He said Tane’s father had heard, observed and known enough about me.

‘I heard about you, Gt.’ Mark said.

‘From Tane?’

‘Not only from him.’ He smiled slightly.

‘Oh.’ I said. ‘From the web?’

‘I was told about some security concern, and would like to share with you.’

‘Is it classified?’ I made a joke.

‘Yes.’ He took a firm look at me, ‘owing to the close relation of you two, his father encountered some inconvenience.’

‘Such as?’

‘Interrogation. Would that be enough?’

‘About what, the interrogation?’

‘Something about his work, not entirely for this country, from elsewhere. They don’t want you to get close to them.’

I was surprised. I nodded, ‘I see. I never knew... okay, I know what to do.’

‘Like what?’ Mark followed with inquiry.

‘Do not talk to Tane or get close to his family any more.’ I said.

‘You can do that?’

‘I can, sure.’

‘The boy wants to talk to you.’

I looked at him, ‘Then it’s your client’s problem. Not mine.’

Mark seemed contented. ‘Thanks. I have to go. Please stay for the lunch, it would be on my bill.’

‘No, thanks.’

Cancer man can be forever nostalgic

‘Well, it’s about Cancer. Its patron is Diana, Goddess of the Moon. That’s why it’s the mother. With mama at the side, kiwi man is normal, peaceful. But then if she’s not around...’

‘What?’ Tane asked eagerly.

‘They would go seeking, for something greater than the maternal. Maybe the moon, which can never be tangible. It can only be around, not as human.’

Tane held his breath. He can feel the melancholy, so heavy that he was forced to face the abstract burden. I knew it was the Cancer’s ingenuity to feel passionate for these intangibleness. He can even sense the words that I bear in mind and wouldn’t want to say it out, particularly to this boy.

‘And...?’

I held my silence.

‘Please.’

I finally said it, ‘They’ll be... forever nostalgic.’

There was silence. Finally he said, ‘I know. That’s why it’s the Papa.’

After I left, Tane’s words still lingered in my mind.

Parent. Singular form. For those children who never miss their parents, they probably do not know what this means. A boy without mother, in depth it would be missing his anima, the female soul for a male. Hard to grow up as a man intact. Don’t blame the kiwi man as home-borne; Cancer man couldn’t be happier than staying at home.

Or else they would seldom be at home. A wanderer. And that’s where the romantic comes from.

聽丹, listen to the red

‘What about the second word?’

‘丹, red.’

His eyes grew wide open, ‘You mean like red earth, the sacred red earth of Maōri ?’

‘If you take it that way, yes.’

‘Listen to the red.’ Tane looked at the green name on his shirt, ‘It’s neat, it’s here...’ Suddenly everything seemed meaningful. The things at their reasonable places. He had something to say but yet didn’t know how to say it.

‘Sufficient cause. As is.’ Then I pronounced the name in a slow tone, ‘Tan...丹.’

It seems the name weighed him confidence. ‘Teach me how to write it well.’

‘My pleasure...’ It was.

I asked him why he liked calligraphy. To my surprise but then not, it came from his mother, Elizabeth. She had noble origin, and well versed in with literature and fine arts. She used to do embroidery while occasionally looking at the baby boy Tane. In their house there used to be antiques and paintings. Now there was only one or two pieces left.

‘You must have something to tell me, Gt. I know from your look.’ Tane said.

‘About what?’

‘Me.’

聽 - listen with ear and heart

‘That’s me. I am a Cancer in a Cancer country.’ Tane said.

I tried to rectify. ‘Even the other one is Pisces, it doesn’t mean there must be the most romantic...’

‘I know. The supreme romantics comes from Cancer and Pisces, but a Cancer and a Pisce do not necessarily make it.’ Tane smiled, ‘not any Cancer nor Pisces.’

I smiled and nodded, ‘Good. You understand.’

Later, to his request, I wrote down the Chinese form of his name: 聽丹。

He looked at the first world with suspicion, ‘It looks knotty. What does it mean? It couldn’t possibly be the same meaning.’

‘You see, that’s the ear, the upper left, and it’s the heart down there at the lower right.’

Tane seemed getting something. ‘You add the heart to the ear? That’s...clever.’

‘Yeah, in Chinese, clever is 聰明, meaning good at hearing and seeing. So, you’ve got the ear with the first word 聽. And not only the hearing instinct, you listen with your heart.’

Tane remained silent for a while. I knew he was trying to remember and think about all these. What a great kid.

the most romantic thing is the rendezvous of a Cancer and a Pisces

‘I guess you’ve learned a lot from your papa.’

‘Te papa.’ Tane seemed enlightened.

I learned from his expression that he understood parenthood can reside on just a name, Papa. Yeah, by Papa it means mother here.

What have I taught this kid? To be a wanderer? No. Kiwi males by nature are mild. They wouldn’t want to fight for business success. The best they can fight is rugby, and before that comes haka. It reminds me of the Hakka people along the southeastern sea shore of Fujian province of the China mainland. Maybe they belongs to one of the descendants of the Pacific people. And not to forget the natives in Taiwan. I heard one of my Taiwanese friend says the beautiful people on mount Ali-San in Formosa belongs to the Pacific people.

And according to horoscope, the most romantic thing ever can happen in this corporeal world is the rendezvous of a Cancer and a Pisces.

The Pacific people are the sons and daughters of the wind

Tane listened with attention, a feature of adoration for the mother. I knew I needed to go on.

‘Soviet is Capricorn, so the Tropic of Cancer is near him. New Zealand should be Cancer, so the Tropic of Capricorn is here. There’s more. The Pacific people are probably the sons and daughters of the wind. They drift from islands to islands, never touching a continent. They don’t need to. They settle in the Pacific Ocean. Born wanderers. But that doesn’t mean they don’t value tradition and family. When they settle down, they have rigid customs and rites. Ambivalence.’

Tane was like a kid hearing bed time stories.

‘Cancer belongs to the wind. Well, some says water. I don’t think the water metaphor is neat. I’ll say it’s the wind.’

‘Yeah.’ Tane nodded, smiling.

‘And modern New Zealand was discovered by the English people. Britain is Taurus.’

‘They are?’

‘You know what nature does Britain belong to ?’

‘What is it?’

‘Earth. The concrete earth. They have long and rigid traditions.’

‘I see.’ Tane nodded, ‘they are.’

New Zealand is Cancer, linked with Taurus, Britain ?

From then on, we used to talk on the road, via cell phone and chat room. Gradually I knew more of him. His mother was a English woman, left some money for Tane before going back to Britain a few years ago. His father was a Maōri, a scholar, taking care of Tane.

From my life here, the people I met, including Tane, I was feeling New Zealand. Some people says a country can have horoscope of her own. NZ is...

Cancer, linked with Taurus.

‘You’re wrong. The Tropic of Cancer is on the northern hemisphere.’ Tane said.

‘I know, the Tropic of Capricorn is in the south.’ I tried to explain, ‘but don’t you know that things in the hemispheres reverse from each other? The water, the sunlit direction. You see, Capricorn and Caner are an interesting pair. The former represents the father, the latter the mother. People wouldn’t place father together with father, or mother with mother. So, where the Tropic of Capricorn is, the mother is with him. Where the Tropic of Cancer is, the father is with her.’

Tanemahuta, who parted heaven and sky, and breathed life into woman

‘What is it?’

‘The tree.’ The way he spoke it made me aware of our common perception of the sacred liveliness and vigour of Tanemahuta, the God of the forest, who once shoulders the earth and trample on the sky as a tree to make way for this world; the creation.

‘Tanemahuta.’

Tane smiled. The joy filled him. The little pride was not a problem.

‘Yes, the growth of forests. It’s green here.’ I couldn’t help but look at the shades of green of the embroidery on his shirt.

Tane seemed to sympathize with Tanemahuta. It is a flattery for him. He seemed happy. Didn’t at least someone tell him this convenient compliment, his parents at least?

I went on, ‘Tanemahuta breathes life into the first human female.’

‘I know.’ He spoke again, ‘but I’m not going to tell you her name.’

I smiled, ‘Maybe I know.’

‘That’s what you can get from the websites. I’ve got a better name.’

‘Better name? Why won’t you tell me?’

He smiled, contented with keeping the name secret to himself.

Neo Zelos, where zelos means the zeal

I wondered how much can a boy know about inner strength. I pointed at the name ‘Tane’ on his white shirt, ‘That’s beautiful. Who did it, your mother?’

Tane shook his head. At that moment sadness was a thread of his inner spirit, if not all. He seemed looking for escape by walking faster. But he got used to avoiding the topic by just a minute of leave. A few steps and he slowed down, waiting for me. He asked, ‘How is your life here, the book Neo Zelos.’

I hurried forth and replied, ‘My new life here. Zelos means the zeal. From abstract to real. From home country to new location. My life is just like that.’

‘Is it hard to read?’ He showed interest.

‘Not too hard. I can’t write difficult things.’

‘Are you a Chinese?’ He asked.

‘I am. Do you like Chinese people?’

‘Why did you say so?’

‘Well, Chinese is not well liked here, in particular.’

‘I seldom meet Chinese. I love their calligraphy.’

‘Calligraphy? Can you do it then?’ I was curious.

‘No, except one.’ He paused his pace.

Tane had got spirit like Ruaumoko, god of volcano

‘I heard that you talk with us in some chat room.’ Tane said.

‘Yes, about the little book I brought.’

‘Neo Zelos, What is it about?’

‘My life here a few years ago.’

‘You’re a kiwi?’ Tane asked.

‘Not really. I just studied here.’

‘Have your finished your study?’

‘Not yet.’ I smiled, ‘I do research. It takes time.’

‘You’re a Ph.D...’

‘Not yet, a candidate only.’

‘What kind of research do you do?’

‘Short-term chaos in the network.’ I asked, ‘Do you know what it is?’

‘Chaos, short ones. I know the word. Disorder.’

I nodded, ‘Yes. Just like earthquake.’

‘Ruaumoko.’ He was proud to say the word.

‘The God of earthquake and volcano eruption.’

‘We have the spirit within us, just like an volcano.’

Tane, the tree and creation

The next day I still needed to go to the same place at the same time, when the students were leaving school. I met Tane again. It took three or more glances for him to notice me as someone walked past him yesterday, some twenty-four hours ago.

I had looked it up; the name Tane had something related to the tree and creation myth. His looks were strong and special, for a boy with an age of around thirteen or fourteen. The eyes are beautiful.

I got verified of the little pride criterion from him. If pride be gratified or fed, I could contribute to that. I smiled and nodded cordially. Tane seemed to return greeting, and watched my back after I walked on.

It took another chance acquaintance to let him say hi, I guessed.

Yes, on the third day.

‘Hello. Are you the man who delivers the books to us?’ Tane asked.

I nodded. ‘Yeah, I am. You’re...Tane. Is it a common name?’

‘Yes, in some places.’

‘Where?’

‘Near Queenstown.’

‘Nice place.’ I said. ‘Your accent is not felt.’

‘My parents studied in Europe.’

‘Eh, that’s why.’

Tane: busy talk, medium friendly, little pride.

I heard someone call him. Was it Tain... Ta-nay, or Taain? Then I remembered the flat ‘e’ sound of local accent and the ‘f’ sound in Maōri language. The joke reminded me of a friend once talked about a place name with an initial ‘wha’ sound. Somewhere in New Zealand it was heard pronounced like ‘fuck’. My friend still got a smile on his face after ending the joke.

The boy turned to look for the voice only after a while. It seemed he was thinking at that time, or he did not know it was him being called. The voice never appeared as a person.

He walked towards me. We both walked slowly, so I took notice of the beautiful embroidery of the name ‘Tane’ on his white shirt. It was shown in such a way that it looked like greenish ferns curvature.

Tane looked a bit absent-minded. He was thinking. I remembered the three criteria for describing traits and behaviors: big move, medium attitude, little problem. After a short observation, I gathered that Tane was medium friendly, and nice-looking. He liked his own manners, a little problem of pride, maybe for being a Maōri. What about the big move?

After I passed him, ten steps away I heard someone talking. I glanced back and saw Tane chatting with a girl who should not be the one who just called out for him. The way they indulged themselves in conversation finished me with the descriptive trio of a person: big move in busy talk.

Busy talk, medium friendly, little pride. That can be a nice guy.

a Maōri boy Tane

But I still feel excited. It may be the future me who post LSP somewhere, say, on the Web. Would it make the Internet sacred and important ever after?

Or it’s only when the Web becomes semantic that... Suddenly I sympathize with Web being a semantic thing, or semiotic thing, that information has never been so powerful and penetrating in human history !

Information of idea in the making, to the Web. Not limited to that. Further, to the space, galaxy, local cluster... Would someone, whatever its form and nature, dare to go beyond a planet, a solar system ? Imagine a human being, happened to have certain kind of supernatural power so that he/she can abandon the body, turns into another kind of being, and go beyond our planet. The being wants to seek intelligence, to travel in space, to go beyond what humans can’t go.

What a will.

A few days later I came across a Maōri boy. His name was Tane. What caught my attention was his nearly white clothes. Maōri people are brownish in colour, so wearing white makes them look darker.

is the idea lives through me, that I am being exploited?

I drew some bubbles, mapped them to a lake shore. Trying to link them up into some kind of imagery, and from that I may get inspired. Added some more bubbles and colour, and then realized it was not appealing. I did not have a visual image.

How long can it take for an idea to go from ideation to being tangible on a picture? The visual is for other people to recognize. Being recognizable is a kind of materialization, subject to copyright. Maybe not rights, the tangible may not be an optimal version of an idea.

Let’s go back to the mind. I can comprehend its possibility, such that I thought I created an idea, dragging it through the process of materialization. Or is it that the idea lives through my imagination, living through me? Am I being exploited then? I feel bewildered.

Vehicle and the signified. At night before I sleep, I try to think about this for a while. Would that make me a scientist or philosopher? Just for thinking, and value can be there. It’s just a human being, living. If the idea is thus formed, then thinking is really enough to be a human.

But I was told, LSP is not what I can work out its details. Someone would, and someone would post it somewhere one day so that all the people on earth can get the full protocol and if they have the resources, they can each generate endless energy. But not me, not the present me.

truth, information of idea, sufficiency

What about knowing something important, intelligent, but unable to tell others? I need to imagine those are not truth, just like any other ideas in the world, that it’s not necessarily true. In this way, even bearing a precious diamond jewel or the total quantity of a rare element of the whole Earth, I won’t feel special. I can live like an ordinary man.

Even when you can tell others, no one would believe. Or someone will, but with special purpose for their own use. He/she isn’t really believing. The older they live, the longer their mind is filled with patternized frame, even square, no longer flexible. Just as others say, they can’t handle the truth.

Truth is absolute, or not absolute?

Depends.

There is something just like LSP in the future. When some creatures thought/ think/ would think about the idea, it starts to evolve. It depends on what the idea encounters, whom, how, when, where, why, etc to mature. It doesn’t matter where it is. If it is in micro- or nano-form, it survives as information.

Information of idea.

It lives in different dimensions. When encountering sufficiency, it comes into shape. One of the best forms is human being. They can create. If the idea lives long enough in human mind, then it would be materialized.

LSP is soon enough, if we view it from history of civilization. If we are cosmic, it will be here just like tomorrow’s.

truth in the ocean of online writings

But Gaia is only my imagination !

‘No. Gaia is never an imagination. They can survive up till now because of G-17 technology.’

You mean like supernatural power?

‘No.’

Super-computers?

‘Not computer, not the form. In the future the information is formed and activated in everything and everywhere. All you need to do is to retrieve and use it. Gaia tries hard to avoid the tectonic disruption.‘

They have been doing this since when?

‘More than a millennium before your time.’

That’s not too long.

‘Even earlier, since homo sapiens develop their civilizations. But it’s getting harder and harder for the Gaia as time goes by.’

I was enlightened. Because of the population?

‘Yes.’

Just that? I mean with aliens and Gaia together, all they can do is only save human beings from less earthquake, volcano eruption ?

‘No. But it’s not the right time to tell.’

Why?

‘Because you don’t believe me.’

...How do I not know this is just another joke again, that you’re one of the jokers?

‘You’ll know, but perhaps long after all these things you’re doing now.’

Then he told me something, and reminded me not to tell any living soul. But I can write it out because in the ocean of online writings probably no one would pay attention to it, and people would think I am only writing sci-fi, creating something out. Truth is disguised in this way? If it is, then we’re all blinded.

Earth’s magnetic field will reverse

‘You don’t believe me? Well, I can prove. I know what had happened in your times. Here’s one. Some amphibians were going towards extinction.’

There are many plants or animals, either known or unknown to us, become extinct everyday.

‘Not too long from now, news would report this. You can wait for it.’

That’s not a proof. Anyone can search the Web and comes up with some predictions. In this case it is easy to guess it right.

‘Even when it’s amid the Beijing Olympics, it’ll still be heard. Amphibians.’

Then why on earth aliens are below us?

‘Of course they need to hide under earth surface to be invisible from human eyes.”

That’s it?

‘No. Another concern is the magnetic field. They are experts in this.’

So?

‘Didn’t you hear of magnetic flip, that the Earth’s magnetic field will reverse?’

When?

‘Within a millennium.’

I was speechless.

‘Because of the flip, G-17 creature came to settle things. They live down there, with the Gaia.’

G-17 solar system visiting us

The Web phone rang.

I was talking with the future me again. This time the setting was a translucent wall, such that I could half see my own reflection. It’s like talking to myself.

‘Yes, I just want to make it easier for you.’

Easier? Do you mean I wouldn’t be good-looking by then?

‘You aren’t a weary old man by now. I am still good-looking, according to some people’s standard. Of course I can’t please everybody, including androids.’

Why do you appear again; you come for me?

‘Kind of. I just make sure things happen.’

What do you mean? What kind of things? They might not be in line with history?

‘I don’t need to be logical in the way Twenty-first century thought they should be. However, I send these information to you so that you can write them out, just to make sure they would appear in our contemporary history.’

So there is logic, a special kind of logic.

‘Logic of fractional dimension, between space and time. Anyway, what you perceived the other day is somehow correct. There is some aliens from the G-17 solar system having visited us long before we’re aware. They are below us.’

I sat still.

Universe > humans > new life-forms

In this world, micro-organism has its life and way of powering up its being. Do we need to source energy for them? Conservationists want to retain what individual life-form itself is at the present. But these life-forms have undergone generations of evolution before appearing as what we see them today. My point is: let them evolve.

But evolution has come to a new stage. The universe has been around for more than 13.5 billion years to let human beings live to this stage. Humans is an interesting species. They can create, create something that wouldn’t possibly be formed naturally.

Take an example. We make robots, we also make micro-organisms. In the future, organisms are no longer living ones we see today. It was only when I read one of those chemistry books that I realize what we have achieved in chemical engineering. So, in the future we can synthesize nano units, whether they be biochemical or mechanical, to create some living creatures never seen before. Sometimes it appears horrible to me. Yes, Frankensteinesque.

Anyway, in order to make them live, we come up with something to fuel them. And that’s exactly where the energy foam fits in. When we commit ourselves to making this kind of new life forms, we will succeed.

For the same reason, if we want to see ghosts and indulge yourself so much that perhaps we can really see one. Then what about aliens? Does it also apply that we can see one if we really want to? What about when the aliens are stronger in mental power of their neuro-kinetic field? As a result we might easily be controlled and manipulated by them.

Or, could it be powerful aliens make all these strange things happening here on Earth... I mean their energy level is so high that they can easily trigger out strange and unnatural events.

Lake Shore Protocol, LSP, water-based energy

Surely water has a lot of bubbles, foams. I had been to Lake Michigan, and enjoyed the loop drive. On the lake shore I looked into the deep blue water, wondering what was down there. Take the experience out and give it a name, for this protocol.

Lake Shore Protocol, in brief, LSP.

How many bubbles will there be at the lake shore? Well, endless. With every single burst of a bubble, a little momentum is generated. It gives out energy and uncovers another pile of bubbles. More and more. A real-time symphony of bubbles.

I know, in quantum level there will not be bubble bursting. It’s only a metaphor. Probability blows up a cloud there or here; bubbles blown up somewhere and everywhere. Energy gets vigour and released from some dimension. A mechanism.

Maybe with this idea, people in the future -- if the visit by the future me to me was real that night, which means they can come to us even just for inspiration, then my idea here may help them to make discovery since in their times there may be sufficient technology and opportunity to do so.

Thinking that present ideas would be referred to as old ones, which may inspire the future, I feel gratified and happy. So, once water is beginning to decompose and give hydrogen, the quantum fluctuation can be described by ‘foaming’. It is a description. I can’t imagine, when water is no longer water, it can still behave like water trapping air -- may be by then it traps energy, and the collective effect of all the forces on earth makes it form in bubble shape?

LSP is generating energy from water. Collectively it is immense and infinite, releasing the energy inside atoms. Since it is atomic level and the process relatively subtle , it can drive small organisms.

Poetic License. Create. Water.

Talking about energy, we can’t do much without it. And if we have endless supply and huge volume of energy, then we can make significant discoveries. If everyone gets enough energy at the same time, we achieve greatness. We would be on the next wave of revolutions, a new historic Renaissance again.

As a writer, suddenly I am aware of my responsibility to discover something great about cheap and abundant supply of powerful energy. I don’t do experiments in the lab. I do it in my mind.

We don’t need much uranium to release atomic explosion that blows up the Earth. Luckily there isn’t too much uranium around. But we have a lot of water.

Water.

Everything on this planet goes back to water. Break its molecular bond, let hydrogen be free, and we have cheap and abundant supply of energy. No, mere abundance is not enough. We need endless supply.

Water bubbles. Foams. Didn’t scientists say in the quantum level energy is endlessly immense? Its surface is uneven, just like foam. Then foam is a good metaphor to describe energy field, ultra-strong energy.

That’s why I had the idea of foam-like power. Foam-powered. But that’s only the facial description. In the core the cheap energy needs technological specifications and a protocol name.

I was thinking how to name this protocol when I realized that, the world is a naming game. We make nomenclature and assign meanings. According to Nash, there are two things left in this world for people to study, one is semiotics, the signification of meanings.

I am giving the future of energy a name to be signified in this protocol.

You may ask: What am I to have this privilege? Well, I’m not a scientist, but in the old past science is narrated by Plato or Aristotle with words, not math.

I have the Poetic License. to Create.

(Yes, just a few hundred years ago, key English terms are in capital letter, not necessarily in the beginning of sentence or proper names)

Gaia and aliens came up to the earth surface during earthquake...

I downloaded the binary, compiled it and read carefully through the debugs report before install. It said it would never reach version 1. Anyone who waited for it, please go. And what did version ‘0.0{power n}2-2’ mean?

It mentioned a place where I could check about quasi-bionic chip. I visited the site, read the product but did not exactly know how the chip works. Before long I stopped, asking myself why I needed to test this out when I was just writing about it. After I noted this site, I quit.

I needed time to think about it before installing this ‘Logos-eros (Khansee) suite’.

After encountering all these strange things, I needed time to relax. So I did. When I came back to work again, the external world met me. The news. There were so many earthquakes around?

What caught me was a former astronaut-scientist who said aliens are among us. Of course they are among us, would they live, say, in the underground... My mind back to work, and it reminded me of Gaia, the underworld tribe who... welcomed aliens who liked to live underground, near the heat, the inferno wrapped by tectonic plates, the core and original magnetic field?

No way!

But no way is a way. Away. So aliens not necessarily live among us. They may live below us. Of course they can come up and live among us, once in a while. Once in a blue moon, when the moon or sky changes its color... Earthquake.

Gaia and aliens came up to the earth surface during earthquake!

What an amazing idea... or fact? Everything is possible. When there’s a will, there’s a way. But this time it isn’t me who provokes all these, those I encountered recently, is it? Someone with greater power, mental power, provokes this into being.

Sometimes I think we love the mystic and fantasy because we need to know something about the uncanny and weird world beyond our comprehension and understanding. Otherwise we feel frightened. Scientists help us, but they do it too slowly, even though we trust them, or do we? Novelists get it right, just write. People would choose to believe whatever they want to. If they don’t, Newton or Hawking can’t help them.

Well, we may still feel frightened after reading some of these novels. The situation may be even worse. But, then we have some understanding of the possible worlds. No one can say they are totally impossible. No man can, although some pretend to be super-humans who say they can. Power stuff.

To make a life or risk your own life, which is better?

A day later, I decided to write something for the sentiment feature. First, some steps. The reference was hard. On what ground does robot need sentiments aside a pleasing outlook? A command from the manufacturer, or the master? I did not want to lend myself to Ashimov’s rules for robots.

Then I realized many people would love to write such kind of sentimental program for androids. All of us like to play god. I sorted out some traits originated from sensibility, referencing them to psychological emotions.

After resulting in a set of nomenclature, I tried to source some open source programs that might work with them. Actually I did not know whether there was such program, but I would like to try. It cost me hours and hours of hard work. There were lots of program stockpiling, just like junks, and their names were ambiguous. Maybe they thought we should dig deep as they did in order to find something useful, like a pearl in the trash.

Just when I was about to give up, in a flash before diminishing I thought of the queer site which once made a fool of me. The joker was a mean figure, but then the person might have something off the wall, say, some command lines to stir up response from a simple quasi-bionic chip.

‘You got it right, babe.’ The Web site’s personae spoke after exchanging some questions to refine my search. ‘We don’t have that kind of chips. So you have to make it up yourself to test if our logos-eros suite works on them.’

‘Logos-eros?’

‘Don’t repeat after me, you stupid.’

‘Where can I download it? Under what license it is delivered?’

‘Here. Under a strange license, The Khansee.’

‘Never heard of it. What obligations would I bear?’ I asked.

‘Life.’

‘L... Would anyone ever use it then?’

‘Why not? To make a life or risk your own life, which is better? Does it worth...’ It paused for a while, then resumed, ‘Not your life. But anyone attempting to make a life should value it. Not a tree, not trees! Remember? When there were lots of trees there were no human beings on Earth...’

‘So, who is responsible for developing The Khansee.’

‘Khan.’

‘You mean, like Genghis Khan? ’

‘The Great Khan.’

I assumed it was a personae.

A-musing job: give sentiment to androids

And so there was the protagonist. I started to think a bit more, a trait there, a habit here, ending up with idiosyncrasy. I deliberately made up something different from the text.

During this period there were events happening all over the world, including earthquakes. One thing revived my attention to the external world for a while was that there was speculation aout the pair of small meteorites closing in our Earth -- they were in a way related to the smallest planet outside our solar system. This planet was found by New Zealand scientists. It is the smallest, but not the nearest. This small planet is orbiting around a star 3000 light years away. The distance is more than a double of eternity on earth.

Another strange thing was ten of thousands of rats escaped from their home and ran on the field. Refugee, to where?

I was back to my creation.

One thing about android is the sentiment. Assuming we can build a full-functioning metal-ceramic-mixed shell body for robots, it can move either because of programming or natural force fields. What about the sentimental side?

I assume yet another scenario. In the future robotics specialists agree that ‘android’ is the kind of robot which, in addition to its human appearance, must have human-like sentiments. That won’t come easy.

A gesture matching a certain expression or an attitude. Idiosyncrasy allows interpretation and therefore difference. But is the sentiment good for the android or us the humans? We should want them to behave alike. We breathe this attribute to them. We entrust and vest this gift to androids so that they can evolve...

Can we thus make things better? We humans have long been suffered from sentiments. Why would androids be endowed with them. It would only make things more complicated.

But future robots should have a processing portion for sentiments. So, who is going to do that? Scientists won’t do sentiments. Programmers? Can sentiment fits in programming? I presume they are different things.

finally, Locus and lotus

Then the text stopped, no longer live typing, tele-writing. What, my laughter was a sign of stop communication? No way. Even in the Twenty-third century, a laughter won’t become so opposite in meaning.

The old text had a part that I had not read. So after making sure the dialog was no longer on, I read those text.

I am a reader of my own creation. As I read on, I had this feeling and could not help thinking alongside.

I shall be writing all these? Can I? It looks like I can't. How could I ever have written this content...

Strange events aligning. Consciously making my day. Cross-time one-to-one dual-locale but one domain -- me !

Self.

Align back to me. A loop, at a locale, mine and his. Of course I will focus on this locale, locus.

Locus. The place. Maybe even the name of the robot, infant robot.

Then I caught sight of the name of the character. What ?! It’s the same as my idea just a second ago! Guess what...

Locus.

It seems as soon as I thought of something, it appears on this text. I stopped thinking, but then my mind had the visual image of this piece of text on the screen of my laptop, with a logo of an apple taken a first bite. Apple... tempting, which had tempted Adam and Eve...

a Dame’ve

I looked back at the screen. The text read ‘lotus’.

Oh my my! I can’t fool this text, can I? Just then in my mind I really thought of something botanical, the lotus, not a Dame’ve. The text got it right.

Look here. Locus. There, Lotus.

Monologue in four-dimension across time; I’m talking with the past me, my history, all in one.

Energy into matter? How can one ever do that, except God.

‘It doesn’t take a god or the God to do so. If you’re not on the edge of a dimension, you can’t see what’s on the other side. But once you’re here, you understand.’

The Twenty-third century has that kind of technology?

‘It is here, but not entirely made by humans.’

Aliens?

‘In your terms, yes. You can translate it that way so as to understand.’

You have a different name for aliens?

‘Creatures, that would be suffice.’

Do you mean you use different terms and language there, but can text me from your times?

‘Yes.’

How can the text retain its form and wordings, if they are so different?

‘Some kind of temporal-spatial engineering. It is a part of the program. It would adjust into suitable cultural mode so that you can understand. Remember, we come from your times. Yours is history to us. We know about it.’

I was enlightened. This dialog can be in two ways because you enable it.

‘Sure.’

Why me... why do you come for me, except being bored?

‘Because you’re me. You’re just like my memory, but then we can talk. This makes me a better person, more full. I’m talking with the past me, my history, all in one. Monologue in the fourth dimension across time.’

I sighed.

‘You don’t need to sigh, or worry. I wouldn’t be around all the time. But please read these pages and keep in mind. These are the things you’ll write. To me, it’s already written.’

Do you do this to make sure I write them? Does it violate any law of logical relation in the universe?

‘It’s a loop in itself. Created loop, not uncommon these days. The cosmos are full of loops or knots, as you may hear of. It is hard for three-dimensional creatures to comprehend, but just as myself once a 3D being, I understand your concern.’

So I can write them down as my own? Is it plagiarism?

‘In our times, you’re, but can evade responsibility in court. Again, your charge is only that you are not being creative. You copy your old writings.’

I lost a laughter.

future me > Higgs field > Gao, now

Someone read my mind, wrote down the ideas, and showed them on screen to me. I was totally absorbed that I didn’t even think of ghost for dread.

‘Would it be easier for you when regarding it as something come from the future?’

That’s the first phrase of this piece of text. It reminded me of something...

‘Revisit. Cool, Gao, now. I know you’re there watching this piece of text.’

They are my thoughts... I can write like this? When do I have this super mental power to tele-write on the screen of my laptop?

‘No, you’re not tele-writing. I am, I send this to you real-time, well, nearly real-time. The path between you and me is now open and through, therefore we can talk.’

I gazed at the laptop. Am I dreaming? No, it can’t be. I’m conscious. Can you answer this question from me? Woodie bludie five plus one.

‘Six, six, voo-e doee.’

Do I know you?

‘Yes. Frankly, I know you more. I am the future you.’

......Me? In the future? I could go there, or I am old enough to be there?

‘Old enough.’

How old?

‘Say, more than two hundred years of age.’

I can live that long?

‘Yes, everyone can, if they want to.’

That would be... the Twenty-third century, right?

‘Right.’

You, call back to Twenty-first century?

‘Yeeup.’

What for?

‘Bored, I guess. Tracing back time is always fun.’

Yeah, boredom can make people do strange things.

‘Lu visited you?’

Suddenly I was stunned. You really found him.

‘You believe it just now? I thought you may be different. You should believe him.’

You talk like you don’t know me, that we’re two persons.

‘Two entities, yes. If we haven’t connected, we are the same. I know you, and you guess me. But now, we are both existing because we are in two different worlds.’

You come for me? Wouldn’t it violate some kind of causal relationship in the cosmo?

‘Energy. It is infinite and powerful. Says it’s omnipotent. Higgs field, you should know more closely than me.’

Indians can't see Columbus's ship

‘What about cloud computing?’

‘Any grouping, computing, networking can resemble cloud. Collectively.’

‘Who are you? You again?’

He did not answer, but began to cite, ‘Upon this moment, the red or white? Life or reminiscence, shalt flee thee to eternity. What’s in your lifetime seems total, the whole, is now a piece...’

I sort of heard that the last word was ‘behold’, and then the voice and image gone.

What was that, the latest episode of the strange events thread? I clicked at the site link, but there was ‘error 404’. Who could evade a link, hyperlink that works forever in the Web, probably except the little 404. Then I recall, from 4 plus 4, once 8 was my lucky number, a number for ambiguity, discrepancy, variance.

Was I mistaken... that's why I bumped into all these queer occurrences?

Somewhere a 404 message was created and sent to me.

Yes, I met strange things. Do I believe it? Do I want to believe it?

Then I remember someone’s words: ”even if aliens have come, we couldn’t have possibly recognized them”. You don’t know what you are looking at if you haven’t ever thought of it and have the faintest idea. Columbus’s ship. Native Indians. Take the book on my table as an example. If somehow a book is not in this form, how can I recognize this is a book. The vacant space in a drizzle resembles a flower, carved by air. How can I grasp it? It breaks before tangible. The best masterpiece drawn in water by someone, soon disappears, leaving only watermark. It exists for just one second. May be two. What’s the use of thinking this...

A page came into my laptop. Firewall was nothing. I read the already open text. After reading it, I pondered for a while before knowing it's special. It’s not only special, it’s what I thought for my fiction. Fictitious. Now it’s on screen.

In Chinese language.

I stood up, stepped aback.

fishdexing: index like fish

I downloaded essay from the site because its lines caught me. It said one way to smart up, or smarting the web is to have tons of dead fishes pouring into it; called ‘fishdexing’. If there are enough stupid things, it will grow smart itself.

How come?

Chaos theory.

Because those are not real fishes, they are ideas, innovative constructs. Have there been at any time known in history that ideas are just like floating in the air, in the ocean, visually for you to grasp, to interpret in your own specific self brain? Not on books the hard medium anymore ! There would be so many vehicles that significations are infinite. The more we flush ideas down, the sooner we get great compositions otherwise wouldn’t have dreamt of.

When I saw it, the so-called web semantics seems like history, mere line-by-line coding to make a mechanical unit move. It becomes clear that there is no need to make semantic rules to index the web, just let people tag or index as be. They think they are cool in tagging, but it’s just a historical chalking, recollecting lexicon. The capability of relating the disorder or unordered to create novel significations is the real informatics at work.

A larger brain. A greater collective consciousness, tangible.

I know this is good stuff as soon as I saw it. I wonder what this site was, so I paused to find out how I was redirected to this. Soon I saw some strange images which resembled ultra-sound reflection. A figure, maybe.

'Listen to me.' It starts to broadcast to me.

Now? Suddenly I am aware I am not recalling past memory.

'Thou shalt not temptst thy lord.'

What, are you talking to me? Is this the site of the article?

'You think this is a joke again? No, pay attention. The so-called tag cloud at your times is a suggestion of foam metaphor such as that at the quantum level.'

Krakk & victim

The Beijing Olympic Games 2008 is only a month away. I had not heard of any new mascot coming up in the news or market. Could Lu make it on time?

Probably not. Unless he had found the beads... No, not the beads. How can any beads save China rural robotics industry? Gradually I became aware that the whole incident of Lu’s visit was an accident. A joke by accident. A happenstance.

Instead of beads, there was news that terrorists would strike before and during the Games. The military police and secret agents were taking precautions to prevent it. So that was why I got the midnight phone call, I guess. But I hadn't do anything... except the essay. Yes, an essay was enough to run up the expenditure on a suspect. Public security was a sufficient excuse.

The essay came from one of the batches of downloads. You see, owing to the needs of my job, I always need to download articles from the internet. Of course I needed to keep track of the sources. But sometimes the quantity was so big that I was lost in the texting cloud.

I always try to give tags to the source sites, but then they had no structure. Before long I was myself in tag clouds. No kidding. I used special terms like ‘me’, ‘木仔仔’, and ‘hade’ -- the final one came to mean ‘had e’ where ‘e’ could be everything from email to ‘electromise/r’.

Some tags I couldn’t even remember. I thought I can, but not.

Then one of these essays was linked to some unknown but authority source in a certain circle. This dramatis personae with the codename Krakk came to attack me; at worst it could become a powerful cracker, evil at times and demonic for most of the times, turning my webpage into a melting email image, asked why I intruded upon his/her territory. I did not know what I had done to irritate this fellow. Finally I apologized for something I might have done.

Then I learned that it was a joke. I was victimized, being a jokee. I was angry and turned the certain essay in to the police. From then on the essay became a medium in pulling the trigger among the joker/ devil, police and me.

The midnight call was probably the latest alert.

all the strange things before earthquake

I woke up in the morning with a headache. I took some pills and a day off. After breakfast I thought I could do something about my writing and the sequence of strange events. So I started to keep a close eye on my laptop.

Then related events came in.

Somewhere the animals were nervous, either running or, quite the opposite, remaining still. Birds flying at high speed. Dogs barking continuously at some invisible beings. Rooster got itself on the top of scrub. Tigers timid? And the flies as well as mosquitoes disappeared to nowhere, just like bees. Snake awoke in mid of hibernation, and was frozen to death in snow. Cats walked away and disappeared as usual, only for a longer time. But rats were intimidated, waiting to be caught. Fishes ashore.

There was strange noise from underground, with the sky appeared curious colors.

Yeah, one more thing to go before earthquake can be announced -- dry and hot weather.

But monitoring weather was hard for me. My headache came back. I took a nap, ending up with a sleep. When I woke up, I was conscious of something to be happened. I checked the news.

No? Maybe not yet. I waited.

Expectation engaged the threading, and I wanted it to grow powerful. I was waiting for my probable quantum psycho-supernormality to effectuate, making it happen, if ever I could do so.

It was until days later that earthquake stroke near where I was staying, New Zealand. It was nearly 6 by Richter magnitude. It could have caused a lot of damage, but the quake was a hundred kilometers deep down, in result nothing particular happened on earth surface.

Maybe there were some drastic reactions down there.

quantum psychology takes shape

x x x x

I woke up cold at midnight. A tiny light was flashing in my room. It was my notebook. I opened the lid and found a message come in. Just a glance before sleeping on.

A pair of small meteorites measuring less than a kilo in diameter were approaching Earth. Well, it was still more than a quarter of million kilos away. Scientists are observing them closely, just in case they might run off-track and hit us, then we are all doomed.

When would this probable doomsday news be broadcast to common folks? Did they worry about it may arouse the-end-of-the-world melancholia? Few days later, maybe.

And how?

Just as I was going to bed, the voice-over-IP was ringing. I seldom got calls at this time of the night.

‘Hello?’ I answered.

‘Don’t involve yourself with the underground anymore.’ A low and stern voice said.

‘I did? No, I haven’t got involved...’

‘Listen, Lu is insane. And he has contact with terrorists.’

‘Who are you?’

‘You don’t need to know if you don’t know. Take my words.’ Then he hung up.

What a strange call. As I was lying on bed, Lu began to appear in my mind again. I began to relate some strange things happened these days. If the quantum psychology is right, that when you have threaded yourself into a line of correlated events from the mind, which is strong enough to merge into some kind of string, superstring, then you would live that line of history on. Judging from the things and events I recently encountered, I may have that quantum string happening to me.

Yes, I suspected so.

But mere suspicion was unable to convince myself. I had to see more. I am conscious that I am expecting something, and every morning when I wake up, I will consciously make my coming day.

Gaia again, this time as an underworld tribe... moving the tectonic plates?!

From the earthquakes happened so far this year, it reminded me that it was predicted a year of frequent earthquakes. From earthquake to chaos, it seemed the Greeks had it: Gaia, in Greek
mythology, was the daughter of Chaos.

I couldn’t help but plot that an underworld tribe bears the name Gaia. No, again it’s not my original idea. There were so many people who had used the name. This time, I used it for a tribe which has dealt with the crustal chaos for so long that they can... move the tectonic plates?

Wow, if they can, then what gigantic, immense power they have !

What about the theoretical plausibility? ...Well, fluid dynamics. The lava, the liquid metal belongs to fluid. If water is powerful, then imagine lava at least a thousand times more powerful than water. The body of mantle drives the seven major and other small tectonic plates. Gaia can move them because... they live with the plates for millions of years and have developed related technology. Even if they can’t move them, they know well enough about the chaos of the plates -- just like watching a sphere of boiling water, that they can avoid the disastrous impact.

If the Gaia tribe messes with us, we are pissed. So, don’t mess with Gaia.

While Lu might not be searching for the beads anymore, I still was. I don’t know the causal relationship; it doesn’t matter whether the future me told Lu who in turn told me. I was thinking about the lotus beads, no ,lotus seeds. And my infant robot in relation to lotus.

I’m not a buddhist just as my kid sister is. But I always like lotus. It was my wish to use the very flora of spiritual ‘superterran’ to associate with a cold, metallic, mechanical robot. Extremes are brought together to contrast, to cross-flow the mind and the body.

The soul and the physical.

I was content in working with this dichotomy.

Papa is the mother, and mama is Papa ?

Where was Lu?

I tried to reach him by phone, but to no avail. He did leave an email account. I waited after sending a message written in Chinese to him. No, half day had passed but still no reply. He couldn’t access to his email in some rural landscape newly shaped by earthquake, I guessed.

The last resort was a postal address. Are there any people who still write a letter nowadays? As the final resort I wrote one.

Writing still worked. After a week or so I got a call from someone who claimed to be Lu’s family. She told me Lu once called home, but left no correspondence hint as to where to find me again. She said she would tell Lu what I said in my letter if he called home again.

From then on I rang up Lu’s family once in a while to find out what was going on with him. Sometimes it was answered, sometimes not. The same answer was that Lu was still searching. Yes, I could assume Lu heard of my advice. If he went on, it was his business. Gradually I forgot the man.

It was special about Maori god Ruaumoko among natural myths of volcano and earthquake. He is not an animal, but rather, a personified entity. I figured him to be one of the underworld population, a wanderer suffering from chronic, if not forever, nostalgia which was described as a loss of feeding from Papa, mother earth. His rage rebuked the terrestrial ever on.

What an interesting invert. The mother is called ‘papa’ which in many cultures means the father? And Maori gods are nearly all male. Papa is the mother and mama is papa. Where have all the other goddesses gone?

Presumably in other subterranean locales. Just thought of them as another tribe, another world. Underworld.

earthquake and myths

When I had time to do more research, the fact stunned me -- New Zealand has earthquake everyday !

Every year there are around 14000 quakes, 1.6 times hourly. Many are not to be felt. What would have occurred with this frequency? It has been going on for such a long time that it is possible a large quake would strike. Actually it is predicted to happen within fifty years.

I couldn’t escape from earthquake, could I?

Many races have mythology of earthquake, usually about an animal which causes it. Here, the Maori myth says Ruaumoko, the god of volcanoes and quakes, was at rage when his mother dropped him into subterran when she was bending down to breast-feed him. Rage becomes eruption and earthquake. What a pity.

Beads. Crystal, polished gems. Seeds.

Seek the seeds.

Is Lu really searching for those beads, by chance meeting a lotus or two? I realized what I had suggested to the poor man, a Herculean task. Along the cracks on earth, those forced out by immense tectonic force... I needed to call Lu so that he might want to stop searching. At least I have done something to make him rethink whether he should seek the beads in this way or not.

quake quake there, Sichuan, and quake quake here, NZ

‘I’d better hurry.’ Lu said and left a contact address.

I watched him leave, thinking of seeking the beads myself. But I should be busy; I was going to New Zealand. I would try to stay in touch with him. It helped my writing.
x x x x

I didn’t know New Zealand has earthquake. I thought it is safe. But no, there were quakes. The worst one ever recorded was the 1931, grading as 7.8 . And for volcanoes, the Auckland region is active.

Sichuan came to my mind. Quake quake there, quake quake here. A fantasy curled in my thought: what if the earthquakes are related to each other?

I checked and found that there are seven major tectonic plates on Earth. New Zealand seems caught in the subduction zone and spreading zone of the Pacific Plate and Australian Plate. The area affected is mainly South Island where I was staying.

Had anyone used seismological wave to transmit message? What if in a way the tectonic plates know about each other’s activities? Not just touch, but the information, culminated for millions of years and have already reached an equilibrium state so that when vibration gets rough, the others know.

But they were not humans nor creatures, even when... Then suddenly the underworld stroke me. Creature living under the crust, perhaps in the cracks or underground landscape such as a lake? They have to know about the quakes because it endangers their home, their lives, their all !

If the underworld was long enough, they should have the related technology about quakes. What a rich history that would be. They are seismologists everyone.

Yes, but that was only my imagination. The underworld.

The last thing I thought of was the beads Lu mentioned. They were from the underworld.

find the beads along the quake fault

Lu took it as a positive attitude and somehow a nod. ‘So, where are they?’

‘You just brought up the underworld. Have you found any clue?’

‘There was a place famous for beads. Should I go there?’

‘Is it along the fault torn open by the quake?’ I asked.

Lu mapped the geography in his mind before answering, ‘Sort of.’

‘Then go and ask about them, and pay attention to lotus.’

‘Lotus?’ Lu looked round and pointed at the pond, ‘like this one?’

‘Not every lotus pond is the place. You have to be alert.’

‘Okay, lotus with the fault.’ Then he asked, ‘Would I finish the doll before the Games?’

‘Well, even during the Games, the world knows of your achievement.’

‘Yeah,’ he smiled.

This rural man came for a confirmative message. Anyone told him one and he would be happy to go on his way. Well, perhaps not everyone, it’s only me. Why me? Am I looking for something like this rustic man does? An idea, and he came along. From his words I have borne an idea, maybe the best idea I ever have. In return I gave him hope... Or, have I done wrong in pretending to be the man he spoke of? If I aren’t, then I have a problem for what I did. But then I may be the man... provided the being were really the future me.

I am or I am not the being ?

infant robot by a lotus pond

‘Let me ask you a question.’ I paused for his silent acceptance before I continued, ‘If I am not the future being you mentioned, then I really don’t know what you’re talking about and where the beads are. What if you’re wrong about me?’

‘Then how can I ever find the beads? Without them my clay doll wouldn’t have come alive.’

‘Alive? The beads are so important?’ I asked, ‘but aren’t they just beads?’

‘They are great beads, seeds...’

‘Seeds?’ Then I realized I mistook the sound.

There was a small lotus pond in the far corner of the courtyard. I caught sight of an erect stem. I always wondered how could the flower still flourish in the night.

Lotus seeds. Suddenly I was inspired. An infant robot coming from the future, settling in a... a temple, waiting for something to happen or someone to come, and of course, with the seeds being the key to its survival, its being, its trans-temporal evolution... I was excited.

Lu studied me. 'Sir, you look different.'

I smiled, with the joy of working through the plot of my would-be fiction. I might just include the sixth mascot idea. But then I realized it was Lu’s idea, or that of the future being he mentioned. I couldn’t do plagiarism.

‘Are you now the secret being that visited me?’ Lu asked in a low voice.

‘...Maybe.’

consequence of being the future me

Lu seemed happy that I did not argued with him. ‘Can you show me some hints to find the beads?’

‘I don’t know...’ Then I was aware that I was expected to be the present form of the future being who visited Lu the other day.

He looked at me, trying to see if I was hiding something from him. Would he consider this a test by the future being? As time dragged by, Lu grew suspicious and a bit impatient.

‘But you’re a writer,’ He said.

‘A writer doesn’t necessarily know everything.’

‘The things a writer writes about always come true.’

‘Who said that, a writer?’

‘You!’ Lu was angered.

‘No...’ I again became conscious of my being the future being that visited Lu. I didn’t know whether this will be true but now I had to bear the consequence, if not responsibility.

There was a phase of silence.

rural miners make robot

I was speechless.

‘Aside mine, there’re other families.’

‘Who are they?’

‘Others living in the same mountain. You see, we run a mine of our own.’

My eyes grew wide. ‘Do you have someone who’ve learned mining science?’

‘No.’ Lu again shook his head. ‘Just dig. No need to learn mining.’ And before I answered, he added, ‘Don’t mind the mine.’

I should have known he was just one of the rural homemade miners. Family business. And instead of mining they now came to making robots. Chinese people couldn’t be that naive. Populism. It may hurt.

‘Yeah, maybe we are affected by past history, that we believe we can make steel from ore just by burning a big fire.’ Lu showed his wit of reflection.

‘Do you think it’s plausible?’

‘Possible?’ He nodded, ‘Only if you have faith.’

I tried to disagree but, just by looking at his face, I knew I could hurt this fellow by saying so. After all, he now took me as the future being that visited him. Then I resisted my own reaction.

native homemade robot

‘Quake has something to do with anything. We’re living on the crust. The underworld rules us all.’

‘Are you part of the underworld?’ I asked.

Lu was silent. His expression prompted me into thinking he was one of them.

We kept the silence for such a duration that when I tried to resume the dialogue, he quickly broke in, ‘I am on a journey to find the beads.’

‘Who make the robot then?’ I asked.

‘I have a family. They’re doing it.’

‘They know how to do it?’

‘Again, it’s not rocket science.’ Lu was cooled down a bit. ‘It’s native homemade robotics. ’

future me telling other people to find me?

‘Listen, I am a writer.’ I said. ‘I have ideas of someone coming back from the future, that’s not totally my plot. To tell the truth, what you’re saying about an infant robot is somewhat similar to an idea I have in mind these days, though I haven’t designed it to be the sixth mascot of this year’s Olympic Games.’

While I was intending to continue, Lu said quickly, ‘It’s okay. Maybe you should know, the being once said you’re closely related to it. Therefore I came for you...’

‘He knows me?’

Lu's eyes were wide open, and spoke in a made-believed tone, ‘Maybe it’s the future you.’

‘He looks like me?’

‘Not really. I can’t really figure out his face.’

‘What else did he tell you?’ I tried to convince him, ‘I mean, if I were him, then the queer logic of time travel allows me to ask about myself, right? ’

Lu smiled, ‘It makes sense. He told me to find some beads.’

‘Beads? Hand-made?’

‘Mmm, I don’ t know because I haven’t found them. They should be somewhere in the faults torn open by the quake.’

‘So the quake had something to do with it.’ I said.

Gao Zeng or Gt or the being?

‘They are everywhere.’

I shook my head, ‘You see, it has to be everyone being a secret agent in order to make them everywhere. Not everyone is interested in spying on others.’

‘There was a time when most of the people spy on others, even within the family.’

I stared at him, ‘You have that experience?’

‘No. But my ancestors did.’ Lu looked around, ‘I guess you’re the man.’

This again frustrated me. ‘I am? Who is me then.’

‘Gao Zeng, alias Gt, the one who wrote, or is still writing about the lotus robot.’

Curious as I am, I asked cautiously, ‘Where do you know about my book, from the website or the blog?’

Lu’s answer stunned me, ‘From someone who will come back to me from the future, and he had.’ He paused, trying to make me believe, ‘I was visited by this being, I don’t know whether it’s a he or she, and then I was told about the possibility of an infant robot.’

‘Wait,’ I waved him to stop, ‘this is my plot. How come you know it?’

Lu seemed angered, 'I just told you about the sixth mascot and you said that's your plot...'

Then it suddenly dawned to him, and he tried to verify something, 'you know that being?'

I tried to figure out the causal relationship before answering.

That’s part of my conversation with this man Lu.

The reason I cited them is because I want to tell the world about this strange incident. It is about a mascot prepared for this year’s Olympic Games by a rural craftsman. It is intended as a surprise, a robot made in China, among the first of its kind.

Chinese had had the mechanical know-how to drive wooden ox and horse long before the West did the alike. Those were Lu’s words.

‘I started this because I like robotics. It can be traced far back into more than a millennium ago. Westerners don’t know it because they’re so absorbed in themselves. Japanese robotics leads the world. It represents a major trend in the science. And remember, Japanese culture originates from China, the old Cathay. So why should anyone be surprised if a Chinese like me makes an archetype of the robot mascot?’

Before I could say anything, Lu whispered, ‘The earthquake on 12 May let me have a little more time, as the secret agents seemed absent these days.’

‘Secret agents?’ I asked.

rural robotics

Lu nodded, ‘You got it.’ Upon my suspicious tone, he said, ‘Of course you don’t mean to believe it. The fact is, I got inspiration from the underworld. Somehow they told me how to use the pressure of silicon layers to form necessary metals.’

I was bewildered. ‘You mean like coal or petroleum?’

Lu agreed.

‘Who told you that, underworld scientist?’

‘I don’t suppose you can accept it. Me neither, at first. But then I find it feasible. I don’t need to have the exact know-how, just make it, placing the ore into the layers. It’s like...’ Lu pondered for a while before going on, ‘you don’t need to do all the computer programming to make a robot move. You can just have the joints, the hand and a driving force to throw out a javelin.’

‘Like insects.’

‘Yeah.’ Lu smiled.

‘You know, that’s a major trend in developing robotics.’

‘That’s why I’m using this easier and efficient way to make robots.’

‘Can you finish it? There are only around forty days before the Olympics.’

‘Forty-one days, actually. I’m trying my best.’

a craftsman making a mascot

‘Excuse me, what’s your name?’ I changed the subject and asked.

‘Call me Lu,’ The man paused, ‘I come from Lu Xiang, you know, the pace where Lu Ban lived.’

‘And Lu Ban is...’

Lu stared at me, somehow not used to a response of not knowing who Lu Ban was,‘The patron of craftsmanship.’

‘Oh, Master Lu.’ I recalled. ‘What’s the color of this would-be sixth mascot? ’

‘Brown, the color of earth.’

‘Isn’t there already a mascot in more or less the same color?’

‘Orange, that is. Mine is brown.’

‘Brown because it’s from clay or underground?’ I tried to resume a disconnected topic.

Earthquake and mascot

'Yeah, the mascots are selling.'

Lu changed his tone, ‘The price of the mascots is hot, soaring day by day. I feel heartache. On this side, the earthquake in Sichuan Province, on the other side, the businessman grabs profits.’

‘They may donate money from their profit to the Sichuan...’

‘Do you really believe it? Here, in the mainland?’ He said with distrust.

‘Talking about trust, do you want me or others to believe in what you’ve said, that we have an extra mascot robot for the coming historic Olympics?’

‘Yeah,’ he nodded, ‘normally you don’t. But if even earthquake pops out from nowhere, then why shouldn’t you believe in my sixth mascot? ’ And he continued with a secretive tone, ‘To tell the truth, the quake has opened some passage below the ground, and let the Underworld comes up.’

China makes robot...

The man asked, 'You don't believe it, do you?'

I made a gesture.

He paused and continued, 'Not the kind of robots seen in Japan, say, android, but a kind of natural... evolution. That by having a body proper, no matter it's a clay doll or metal shell, it works. Do you understand what I mean?'

I shook my head, 'No, I don't. Do you mean a doll made from clay and sand can be a robot, that can move?' I showed disbelief.

'Yeah, a clay doll, that's what I'm making.'

'A mascot of clay doll?'

He was delighted, 'Why not?'

the mascot is a robot?

'It isn’t allowed? What about earthquake? It isn’t, but however it quaked!'

I looked at the man. He was in short temper and seemed so emotional that he was at a loss of what to do. After a while he continued, 'It's the robotics industry that counts.'

'Wait, what do you mean by robotics? What does that to do with the would-be sixth mascot?'

'Because the mascot would be a robot.'

'You mean like a robot that looks like human, that can move?'

'Should be.' The man replied, but with hesitation.

'Should be? I don't think we have that kind of technology...'

the would-be sixth mascot of 2008 Olympic Games

I was visited by a mysterious man the other evening. He asked for something to drink, and started talking.

What caught my attention was that he mentioned about the sixth mascot of the Beijing Olympics in the coming August. It wasn't ready yet, but soon it would be.

'Is it a joke or hoax?'

'Not a joke.' The man shook his head seriously.

'Is that legal?' I asked. 'No one makes a mascot for the Games except the Chinese Government.'

He stared at me. 'You're like the others. Why can't we have a mascot not from the government?'

The question in me remains whether it is legal.