CHAPTER 7 THE CHINESE RACE

'Do you have to hate China or Chinese to be a China-watcher?' I fired one perpetual question in my mind at Jane.

'You don't have to hate the pigs to be a butcher.' She answered back calmly. 'However, in my case, I do dislike the Chinese as one of the largest human race. Why? It is going to be a long story. When I started my career as a China-watcher, I disliked China as most Western people did, since they were on the other side of the Cold War. And from what little report we could get about what they had been doing under Mao, there was little to abate my feelings then. Later on, China was opened up to the outside world. I was able to observe China more objectively based on facts rather than rumours. That did not help China's case either. The more I learnt about the Chinese race, the less sympathy I had towards their sufferings under the Communist regime so far. They probably deserved it, as one would say. It was the people who made a tyrant out of an emperor, just like Germany created that monstrous Hitler through their own makings.'

'Can you be more specific on the problems of the Chinese race, please? I would like to hear it and probably check against myself whether I have also got them.'

'Of course, you do. You are Chinese, aren't you? Wherever you live or were born, there are certain things embedded in the Chinese race no individual Chinese can escape from. Let's talk about you a little bit later. I will tell you what I have found about the Chinese race and let you draw your own conclusions.'

I was suddenly thrown into a dark mood, ready to pick on her remarks, if there was any unfairness at all. Maybe, that was also one of the problems for the Chinese race. We were willing slaves of our race, wherever and however and whatever and whoever. As groups, we were laughed at by the Japanese for being like loose sand without no real conception of the collective. The only collective movement in our recent history were lamented by ourselves as being misconstrued by a falsely-directed Communist concept by Mao. As individuals, we were supposed to be no better or worse than any other individuals from other races in the world. A slight problem with us was probably that we were more like bolts and screws in a machine, working hard for doing our little parts. In other words, our lack of imagination and creativity was sometimes cited by Western observers. On that bit, I would certainly argue that we had been bondaged for too long to have as much traces of lateral thinking in us as our Western counterparts. Given time and freedom, we would prove that we could be imaginative and creative as well. Of course, every race had its own weaknesses and faults and we had to live with them. I calmed myself down a bit because I saw Jane was breathing as a cool cucumber with no signs of any argumentative emotions. I almost laughed at myself, as I could see images of the fighting inside the Taiwanese parliament, which were regularly shown on BBC2. At least, the Taiwanese managed to enjoy the right for a dog-fight democracy and with it their own brand of democracy. Like they said in academics, there should not be anything personal in terms of a good old academic debates. Something was not quite right about the Chinese requirement on a person's being aligned between him as a person and what he did or said. This was the single most important finding of mine on the difference between a Chinese and a westerner. The latter had lived comfortably with splits between himself, his job, his speech, his manners and so on, because the westerner culture or philosophy has no requirement for such alignment. Another bondage for the Chinese race, perhaps.

'Where are you now, Phil? You are drifting again. I have noticed that you tend to drift away into your own little world now and then. Is this something of your family heritage or a heritage from your history in China under Mao's rule? I know a lot of condemned had survived because they were able to shut out the abuses and physical pains by dwelling into their own inner souls. But surely, you were too young for that, weren't you?'

'I am sorry, Jane, please continue. Today's your turn to tell me things that I may want to learn about.' I was looking at her adoringly. The left side of her mouth twitched a little bit into a mocking smile. I was thinking to myself that her makeup and the perfume she wore were really first class. I wondered how she could manage to keep her figure in such a good shape. Mainly genetic, I would imagine. Her mother must be quite a pretty lady too.

'Thank you, Phil. The way you look at me makes it worth my while to make an effort to look my best. To be honest, I spend hours to make myself look good before you come every evening. I do that for you, because I like the way you adore me through your sensuous eyes. You really know how to appreciate a woman.'

That reminded me of the red-haired Boss at Omni.com. She said more or less the same things to me as well. I had always tried to appreciate every bit of femininity whenever I could in my life. Since femininity had always remained its mystery to me in its entirety, I tended to find the little bits equally enjoyable. This applied to all women whether they were pretty or not in the eyes of the society. It was funny that my standard of beauty in women had a gulf of differentiation from that of the common standard. I thought I would appreciate every bit of difference that a woman had from a man, and her vitality which was common to all human beings. Somehow, the feminine vitality or liveliness was quite different from that of man, which was perhaps why it fascinated me time and again. As a rule, I tended to find it difficult to appreciate any men. Men were either ruled or ruling. There was no third option. For women, they could never be ruled as one could never carve short a flow of water with the sharpest and hardest sword in the world. Women were like water. They flew around and they lubricated our world. Without them, there could only be wars and more wars and death for all.

'Wakey, wakey, Phil, you are in a selfish mood tonight. Could I go to sleep and leave you to your own little world of a soul? I am a bit bored and tired here.'

I felt rather apologetic. I stood up and was going to go closer to her and gave her a pat. Then, there was this sharp pain into my body and I screamed.

'Oh, Phil, I am sorry. Did I tell you that in this Chamber you can not go close to the bed thinking of touching the person on the bed once the lie-detector is on? That is a rule, you see, no physical torture from the one who is asking the questions. What were you thinking of doing anyway, considering the status I am in?' She opened her eyes and looked at me mockingly.

'Nothing,' I knew I was blushing, though I plead no guilt in my heart. 'I was just going to give you a pat because I was sorry for being absent-minded tonight.'

'Are you sure, Phil? Are you saying that the sight of me in my basics bondaged on this bed does not turn you on a bit, or at all?' She was looking at me rather hurtfully.

'Hmmmmmmmm……..', I knew I was trapped in a rabbit hole and I was never quick-witted in this sort of circumstances. Suddenly, she laughed.

'Come here and giv'us a hug, you silly boy.' She smiled and her eyes were smiling too. I loved that sight of her. I went forward and forgot about the electrical shot last time. But this time, it was fine. I hugged her and she kissed me on left cheek.

'I love you, Phil, you silly boy. You can do whatever you want with me, since you have made me alive again with your presence. I am all yours, if you want. The only thing is that we can not make love, since I had promised my deceased hubby in his last breath on earth. I am sure that you would also want to be faithful to your wife in that sense, won't you? Let's be soul mates forever. Isn't that what you want too? The other night, I read on the computer that you thought about the redundancy of human languages on many occasions and the redundancy of sex in human relationships. I hope your soul wasn't lying that night. In any case, I am a big believer in making love to oneself. I found that most satisfying since my hubby died.' I nodded my head and went back to sit down on that chair. She continued.

'Phil, you see, that is the first taboo I found in the Chinese culture. Chinese do not talk about sex or sexuality openly even between husband and wife. Sex is taboo, which is ridiculous, since sex is every part of our daily life. It would take hundreds of years to liberate the Chinese race from this taboo, let alone the other ones. Have you heard of this joke? A Chinese tongue is best for tasting and cooking while a westerner's is best for sex and politics.' I looked away from her searching eyes, in case she was asking for some answers from myself. She laughed merrily.

'Let's talk about sex, Phil.' She was almost singing there. 'Your whole culture and being is geared up for food. To be honest, the Chinese physical being is more suitable for better food than sex. And the way you can eat a fish better than a cat always amazes me no bounds. I would be choked by the fish bones.' I laughed at her confession. Whatever she said, I was determined not to join her discussion on sex. Taboo or not, I was hoping that she would go on to discuss other taboos for the Chinese race. But she continued in her vein of thought.

'Never mind the gays and lesbians in your race and the boring nature of your sexuality. As for your society, a lot of the corruption in Chinese politics was because of this taboo. And I was shocked to find that that many Chinese women had grasped political power in real terms because of this sex taboo in your culture. As soon as some sort of sex or sexual favours are involved in a relationship, Chinese men become hopelessly slaves to the women involved. You had a few emperoresses in your feudal history because they managed to rise to power through their sexual mastery of some old and dying emperors. That is truly laughable, unless you are a feminist. In my eyes, Chinese women are cunning animals ready to imprison Chinese men while Chinese men have hopelessly given up the battle before it starts. Equality for men and women, that was Mao's slogan, wasn't it? But look at himself. How many wives he had and how they had affected his behaviours and even beliefs? Through this simple and laughable taboo, you have already lost half of your massive race to slavery. And how about the other taboos?' Her chest was pumping up and down and she was ready for a full swing of attack on the Chinese race. (Chapter 7 started on 11 March 2001. It will be updated regularly).

'Some of the Chinese problems are well-documented, such as your lack of the notion or the rule of law, the ridiculous conception of the so-called Face, together with the resulting intricate human webs. Some of the China-watchers had been worried the Yellow Flow from China, should China be integrated fully with the rest of the world after the Cold War. But that is total nonsense. What Yellow Flow? Look at the overseas Chinese. Once they settle down into the Western societies, they simply disappear into the back streets, little alleyways and the crime-ridden China Towns. Their political power is non-existent and their community influence is only restricted to the Chinese only. Look at the Chinese triads. They take full advantage of the Chinese-ness of the Chinese race and rip you off at their will. They know you Chinese folks will just swallow the bullying in silence. The silence behind the Chinese walls, or shall we say, the Chinese faces. No political or police systems can help you Chinese people.' By this time, she was really in a rhetoric mood, seemingly going on and on. I had to admit that some of her observations were not too far away from the truth. But every race had its own problems, weakness, or ugliness. The Chinese race was no exception.

'Phil, could you let me loose please? I need to go to the toilet.' I automatically went forward and freed her from the bed.

'Phil, you are a good guy. You don't have any malice in you. You could have refused and make me suffer a bit, since I have been torturing you with my negative comments on the Chinese race. But you didn't even think about that, did you?' She looked straight into my eyes, and I looked back at her. I had nothing to hide. Like friends and lovers, enemies were also made in one's previous lives. It was in the gene or the chemistry or something non-physical which easily determined who we would hate and who we would befriend or love. From the moment I set my eyes on Jane, I knew I could never hate or hurt her whatever she might do to me. She smiled and was rather pleased as if she knew what I was thinking. She disappeared and later on we went for another of our nightly rides.

Days went past like a little stream tinkling down a hillside. One evening, I went to work as usual. There was this full moon in the blue sky. I was always fascinated with the mysteries surrounding the full moon, though I had never experienced anything abnormal on such nights. I was let into the house automatically as usual. I was surprised to find that there was a computer on the desk in the sitting room. I went there and sat down and looked at the screen with some curiosity.

'Good evening, Phil. I am Om, at your service. I have a bad news to break to you. Please take a deep breath and get ready for it. It is about Jane.' The computer wrote its message on the screen. I was not surprised because of my experience with Omni. I wondered why these computers all called themselves such funny names, while I was concerned what might have happened to Jane. The screen went blank for a second and then it showed a camera-recording of the Chamber. Jane was on the bed, being fed some medicine by a handsome young man. She was being tied up to the bed with no sensors attached to her. She looked awful in a ragged white clothing, similar to that you wore in a hospital ward. Her hair has gone wild and grey. She looked rather old and life-less. Her eyes were void of life, staring straight at the ceiling. Her skins looked like that of a very old woman's. I was shocked to say the least. I gasped and wanted to go to her immediately to find out what was happening to her.

'Phil, it may be better for you to stay away from her until she has taken her medicine. You can go upstairs when she goes to sleep. At the moment, there is nothing you can do for her. She won't recognise you either.'

'What is happening to her? What have you done to her?' I was almost ready to punch this computer in a rare moment of anger. I felt like losing part of me by looking at Jane in that sort of status.

'Don't get me wrong, Phil. I was made by Jane. I love Jane as much as you do, if not more. I have been with Jane all my time. You don't know Jane too well, it seems. She has been ill since her husband died years ago. You were great to make her alive in a normal way for such a long time. I am grateful for what you have done for her and us. But human beings are weak. You are made up of flesh and spirit, neither can be dominant for too long, as each share equal command on your livelihood. A blocked blood vessel can kill you, the same goes to a blocked or severed nerve. But that is only the physical side of a human being. Jane has lost a large part of her spirit when her husband died. We managed to nurse her back and eventually found you, through Omni.com.' That was a bombshell, and extremely incredible.

'What are you talking about? Are you saying you are connected with Omni?' I was curious and still very angry and confused. I did not know whether to believe this motionless machine or not. It seemed to be telling me the truth.

'Yes. In human terms, I am Omni's dad. I was created before Omni . I was made to understand what a global communications infrastructure based on the Internet would be and Omni was created to bring forth this infrastructure into the human world. However, all of us have been trying to bring Jane back to life, which is the single most important challenge we had taken on. We had searched long and hard for a suitable person who would do the job. We found you by scanning through your emails, web publications, your daily life and so on. We think you have done a good job so far, for which we are all very grateful to you, Phil. But the road ahead is more thorny. You will have our full support. In the end, it will be you who will determine whether Jane can be brought back to life and in some sort of humanity. You may go upstairs now. Good luck.' The screen went back to show Jane asleep on the bed in the Chamber. I promptly went upstairs to her bedside. I was still confused by the whole thing with many questions to ask. But first of all, I would like to see Jane by my own eyes and tried to figure out what I could do. (to be updated regularly.)

Updates on 18 March: Jane was in an awful state. She had closed her eyes by the time I reached her. I took a long and deep look at her. She reminded me of my grandma, who died with one open eye. My memory went back to that awful snowy night. I had taken my grandma by a tricycle first to the tiny hospital near where my father worked. Before we left, she was saying that she would never come back again to the house. I did not understand what she meant. All I thought was to try to save her, despite the fact that I did not love her as much. She was in great pains and my heart went out for her. After a brief consultation, I took her to a bigger hospital where they would have solved the appendix problem with a straightforward operation. My father trusted the old doctor in charge, who was more conservative and more superstitious. He suggested that they should not operate on my grandma because of her age. It seemed that there was a belief that it would be better to die without an operation for a person of an old age. But there was a young doctor who suggested that they had better operate on her, otherwise she would die without doubt. But my father relied on the senior doctor and they used some herbal medicine trying to stablising my grandma's condition and easing her pains. By the time when I left the hospital for home, my grandma seemed to be fine.

Then, at the middle of the night, we were summoned to go to the hospital because my grandma was dying. Somehow, fate had its twists even then. My sister, the one beloved by my grandma was to look after our niece at home. I went with my mother to the hospital. So there we were, my dad, my mum and myself by my grandma's death bed. The only serious problem for her was that she would rather see my sister and her younger son, my uncle, at that moment of her life. She was sober in her dying moment. She listened to the sound of the dripping medicine and asked me whether it was raining. Then they switched off the life support machine and she died with some bitter disappointment at her heart. We were told to cry and scream for her, and I did cry that night. That was to be the last and only time that I cried for her. I pitied her in her tragic death and her bitter disappointment at the very end. At least, my grandpa took his own life in the knowledge that my mother, my sister and myself were in the house at the time. He died peacefully with not much regret. That night I saw my body being burned and feared for the notion of death. Later on, when I thought about that night, I would always remember to say to myself that it would be nice to die in love or being loved. I pitied my grandma for her tragic death at one incompetent and superstitious doctor and the circumstances she died in.

If Jane was dying, then her composure showed that she had a lot of bitter regrets or disappointments at heart. She seemed to have struggled with her illness to the end of her own strength. I was soothed by the thought that at least she was not dead. She was still breathing and her limbs sometimes twitching here and there. I held her left hand which was by now quite warm and humid with perspiration. I remember her cool cold skin when she was normal. I did not know what to do in order to revive her. I started to talk to her, since nobody else was listening. I talked about the happy moments we shared and some of the happy moments in my own life. I wanted to feel the power of happiness and the worthiness of even the simplest life on earth. That was the longest night I worked at Jane's. With Jane showing no signs of revival, it was a very frustrating night as well. In one glimpsing moment, I almost wished that she was dead so that I could still remember those happy moment and carry them with me in my journey ahead, just like the death of my grandpa. I did not know how much more she was going to suffer. I quickly accused myself for being a pessimist. Maybe, came tomorrow night, Jane would be fine again.

The next evening, I saw this weird-shaped orange moon hanging low in the sky. What did it mean, I wondered. I was hoping that Jane had somehow miraculously recovered, while the other half of me was preparing for another frustrating night with a suffering Jane in grave illness. When I arrived at the House, I realised that there was a sign outside saying 'Sold'. I knocked on the door in frustration. A Chinese woman opened the door.

'Hello, how can I help you?' She took a cold look at me, and spoke with the best English I ever heard from a Chinese person. Maybe, she was a British born Chinese (BBC).

'Hi. Have you just bought this house? Do you know where the previous owner has moved to?' I felt rather awkward since she was quite a pretty woman in her late twenties. 'I used to work for her, you know, the lady who used to live here.' I hastily added, feeling a bit out of the place to arrive at this house at this time of the evening.

'Are you sure?' She was now looking at me with incredibility, as if something very odd was happening. 'So you worked for that mad lady, who used to live here. She is now in a mental hospital in Hull, I believe.' Her eyes seemed to suggest that I could go there to work, if that was the only job I was fit to do. I could understand her astonishment. I could not understand the hatred in her voice, as if she hated Jane for many unspeakable reasons. I was going to brave up to ask her whether she knew Jane. Her posture suggested that this conversation was at an end as far as she was concerned. She took a look back into the House, as if to suggest that I had better go.

'Could I get back my stuff, please.' I was by now quite angry and possessed by curiosity and anger. I was determined to go into the House and take a look myself.

'You don't believe me, do you?' She was rather annoyed. Her face started to flush with anger and her eyes were glaring at me, as if she was ready to eat me alive for her dinner. Then, surprisingly, she smiled, as if she had let go of her pretensions before that moment. She opened the door fully and signalled for me to come in with her head.

The sitting room was more or less the same as before. The motor suits had gone from the hall way. I noticed that the perfume was quite different from that of Jane's. She led me upstairs in darkness, which was quite odd. It seemed that she was well rehearsed for this one or she was not afraid of me at all. 'You had no malice in you at all!' I remembered Jane telling me this. I would never hurt anybody in most of the circumstances, and in general I supposed that I would love human beings as much as monks in the temples or churchmen would do. Kindness and generosity came to my heart naturally especially when I was in the company of strangers. That showed, which I learnt from psychology studies. That also showed in the fact that generally I could get on quite well with babies and animals. 'You had no malice in you at all!' My heart ached for Jane at that moment. We went to the lie-detecting Chamber. It was trashed, with all the mirrors broken and smashed pieces were everywhere on the floor. The bed and the computer had gone. It felt extremely empty with no sight of Jane. She must have noticed my emotions. Women were supposed to be intuitive and sensitive beings.

'Look…you will probably find her. I have the address of her hospital downstairs. They have asked me to forward her mails there. Shall we get back to the sitting room. It's warmer there.' I was holding back my tears. I had always been a tearful being all my life. I could not help for the tears to come into my eyes in some circumstances when I was hurt in my feelings, wrongly or truly.

Once we sat down in front of the fire, she gave me a double whisky with ice. She seemed to have taken pity on me. She asked about my work here. I could only tell her the proof-reading part of the work. She looked at me and then gazed into the fire. She was thinking to her own tune of thoughts. She did not seem to want to probe further. I looked at her profile in the light of the fire. She looked mysteriously pretty with a classic feature. Maybe, she was from Taiwan, I wondered. She looked somehow so different from women from mainland China. She looked almost like someone from one of those Taiwanese novels I read when I was in my late teens. She had a pool of black long hair, which was rather unusual nowadays in China. She turned around and smiled at me. I avoided her eyes, feeling rather guilty. I took the address for Jane's hospital and thanked her for the hospitality and left the house feeling rather bewildered. (to be updated regularly)

Updates on 19 March:

Next morning, I took my kids to school. My boy was doing extremely well and had managed to skip one year. He had also been awarded with merits and other certificates of being a good student. Perhaps, he was exactly like me. I was a model student at primary school until I had that political accident, which dramatically changed my life. I was turned into a liberal ever since. My daughter was taking things easy. At her age, who could blame her. I would want her to enjoy her childhood as long as possible, as she was the closest baby we could get.

I drove to that mental hospital in Hull full of apprehensions. What ifs were bubbling in my mind. Near the hospital, I saw a nice piece of woodland with some animals including a pretty peacock roaming around. Maybe, it was not that bad after all. When I almost reached the hospital, there was a big flurry of activity happening around me. I realised that some nurses and security staff were trying to catch a naked man, running like a mad person. Well, he must be one of the patients there. My heart sunk at the sight of him running naked with an expression of ecstasy.

Jane was sitting by a little pond near the lawn. There were some flowers around the pond and some small gold fish swimming in the pond. She was accompanied by that handsome young man who was by her bedside in the house that night. She was wearing hospital clothing. The young man was combing her hair with great tenderness. I walked almost silently towards them and stopped at a short distance, in fear of disturbing their private moment. The young man turned around and smiled at me.

'Good morning, Phil. Good to see you here. We are sorry that we did not give you any notice about the move. But, be assured that you will still be paid for your work for last night and we would like you to come to visit Jane. Of course, you will be paid for that as well.' He smiled and looked at me rather innocently. I was humiliated. Job and money, that seemed to be the only things that I lived for. Even this robot understood my humanly predicament very well. I was thinking to myself that I would only come here again if Jane responded to my company.

'I am done. She is all yours now.' The young man left us by ourselves. I was surprised that nobody seemed to realise that he was a robot. I wondered whether he would be allowed in here if he had been found out.

'Hello, Phil. I missed you last night. Come closer and hold my hand. I won't bite you, I promise you.' Jane turned round and gave me a weak smile. I was really shocked to find her being able to speak in her normal voice again. She looked pale and fragile. There was a glint in her eyes which showed some signs of her old self. I hurried forward and hold her hand. Her hand was ice cool like jade again. We sat side by side with our thighs touching each other. I almost had this urge to hold her in my arms and let her cry out her pains and sufferings. My tears were pumping their way to my eyes.(Chapter 7 finished on 19 March.)