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.