by Un-su Kim
And then it strikes me. Do people even know I’m here? What if the fact that an injured private is inside the barracks with all the dustpans and TVs has been omitted from the training plan? Suddenly I am struck by anxiety. So, I quietly raise my hand.
“Platoon leader, I’m over here, too.”
When I say this, the platoon leader, who is in a gas mask, turns to the corporal standing next to him.
“What’d the fucker say?”
“He said he’s over there, too, sir.”
“I’m not deaf, you dumb shit. What does he mean?”
“I think he’s asking when he can leave.”
“Tell him to wait his turn. We haven’t gotten to him yet. Number eleven is biochemical tarps.”
The kind corporal comes over to me as I continue to cough.
“Hang in there, Private Kong. It’s not yet your turn. Sorry about this.”
“It’s fine, Corporal Park. I can hold out a bit longer.” (Cough, cough.)
There’s nothing for the corporal to be sorry about. After all, it’s not his fault that my turn hasn’t come yet. But it feels like my lungs are going to collapse from all the smoke. The other soldiers are taking their time transporting the goods. My eyes, nose, and mouth are all oozing with bodily fluids. In fact, I’m now finding it difficult to even cough. In my hazy state of consciousness, I think to myself, “When will it be my turn?” I grab my chest and tear at my hair. Perhaps my role in this drill isn’t to be a solider, but a corpse. There’s no way a living soldier in a fire would be evacuated after the cabinets. The corporal turns to the platoon leader again, unable to bear it any longer.
“Sir, if we leave him any longer, he’s going to pass out. The smoke is getting really thick. When is Private Kong going to be able to leave?”
“Didn’t I say to wait? Let’s see, wool blankets are seventeenth. Lockers can be left behind. We don’t need to worry about canteens and soap cases. Wheat snacks and Shin Ramyun. Fuck, who put wheat snacks on here? The people at headquarters put anything on the list. Anyway, not that either. Wool blankets are seventeenth. I said that already. Ah, here it is. Injured soldiers! Sixteenth. That means he can leave after the gas masks.”
Yes, in other words, I am after the gas masks. After the German Shepherds, after the biochemical tarps, after the cabinets, and after the gas masks. Thank goodness, I am before the wool blankets. Thank goodness. I would hate it if the wool blankets left before me. They would strut out of the barracks saying, “Oh? A bit later than I thought. Anyway, good job, everyone. Now you know my place in the army. Now when you sleep, don’t bunch me up and drool all over me.”
Oozing snot and tears and coughing, I’m finally dragged out together with the gas masks. I wanted to run out of there with my arms outstretched like the guy from Shawshank Redemption, but my jelly-like legs quite frankly didn’t have the energy to stand on their own.
That training drill changed me. It’s hard to describe, but I started to look at objects differently after that. I was kinder to the cabinets, courteous to the gas masks, and when I put my gun away after standing guard, I would be sincerely polite to the safety lock. After all, they were of more strategic importance than me.
There were times when I felt my sense of existence shrink to an infinitesimally small size. It felt like no one would remember me, like my turn would never come. There were times when I was afraid that the person I loved most might value me less than a stapler or vacuum cleaner. I had finally become aware of the value and shape of my existence in this world. “Look, don’t be disappointed,” I once said to someone. “Being human is like taking a number. You just need to wait your turn quietly. There’s nothing else you can do.”
THE SPY, THE PROPOSITION, AND THE SHE-CAT IN FRONT OF THE CABINET
“Professor Kwon was so stubborn. Nothing I said could ever change his mind. But you seem more flexible.”
As he spoke, the man, who was wearing a black suit, gave me his business card. Gilded on the black card were a lone “K” and a phone number. The card looked as expensive as the man’s silk suit, but it didn’t seem to accomplish all the responsibilities a normal business card should.
“For a man with such exquisite tastes,” I said, “this is a terribly simple business card.”
“Business cards don’t need to be complicated,” the man said with a smirk.
“So, you provide services, right? Like a private investigator?” I asked.
“Something like that, yes. But ‘private investigator’ sounds so very crude. We prefer ‘consultants.’” The man furrowed his brows slightly as though he had been offended by my choice of words. I had frankly been shocked when the man opened the door to the office and walked toward my desk with his loud dress shoes. I had known of him for a long time. He spied on this research center and on Professor Kwon and me. Professor Kwon had told me that the man and the others like him were hired by the syndicate. They would spy on us, disappear for a while, then show up again later. However, this was the first time any one of them had approached me to talk.
“I have a proposition for you,” the man said in a polite tone as we sat down at a café.
“Let’s hear it. It had better be good.”
“A man I can reason with – I like it. Then I’ll skip the pointless prelude and get right to the point. How does a billion sound for the documents?”
A billion won. The number gave me an odd feeling. Such a large amount of money had never graced my life before. There was something surreal about it. Even stranger was the man’s pointed face, which looked like it belonged to one of those samurai in Japanese historical dramas, and his narrow eyes, which reminded me of the anime Ōgon Bat every time I looked at them. The combination was enough to make me feel like I was in a dream.
“That’s less than I thought it would be. I assumed you’d start your bargaining a little higher than that.” I spoke in a sarcastic tone. To my surprise, the man gave me a wide smile.
“I’m glad you said that; I can be frank with you, then. Now, I’ve been instructed by the syndicate to offer no more than two billion won. And since the money is only for negotiating, it’s not like I can take the remainder. So, let’s not play this push-and-pull game like a couple of peddlers. I’ll give you the lot if you hand over the documents without any funny games. You’ll get all two billion.”
“But can you tell me what documents you’re looking for specifically?”
“We know our fair share about the symptomers Professor Kwon has studied. The syndicate has its own research division.”
“Then what do you need more documents for? Why don’t you just tell your people to continue their research?”
“The problem is most symptomers have no value. Take torporers and time skippers, for example. Information and data on symptomers like that has no commercial value. It’s impossible to get an inventor’s attention with stuff like that.”
“Well, if that’s the case, then there’s no reason to drag this conversation on any longer. That’s all I have. To be honest, I would sell you anything for two billion won. It’s not like I’m some activist. I don’t even know why someone would want to keep those documents a secret. I’d give them to you just to clean out the damn cabinet. It’s not difficult. But I think there’s something more to it that you’re not telling me. Every document in that cabinet is either a third-rate novel or tabloid gossip: worthless stuff. If you wanted that, you could just flip through an old Sunday Seoul. All I’ve seen is stuff like that.”
“We think Professor Kwon has some special files.”
“Can you be more specific?”
“What we’re looking for are files on chimeras.”
“Chimeras? You mean people with gingko trees growing from their fingers and tails protruding from their behinds and lizards for tongues? Those chimeras?”
“Yes, something like that. You could call it a new epoch in bioengineering. They might hold the secret to hybrid species. The medical and military ramifications would be
astronomical. I’ve heard even NASA is interested in chimeras to create humans that can adapt to life in space.”
“I’m a little surprised, to be honest. You think Professor Kwon has created such a monster?”
The man let out a weak sigh as he reached into his coat pocket for a pack of cigarettes. He then offered me one. I took one from him and lit it. It was an imported brand unknown to me, with thick tarry smoke. The man blew a stream of smoke into the air before beginning again.
“I had thought you would be easy to talk with, but alas I’m back where I started. Here’s a friendly warning. People like me aren’t allowed wholesome lives. Work gets messy when things turn out this way, despite our best efforts. We always try to take care of business as gently of possible, of course. But when people treat me like some sort of thug, it doesn’t make my job easy for me. And if my job isn’t easy for me, it’s not going to be easy for you, either.”
“This sounds like a threat.”
“A threat? No, I’m just asking for a little respect, that’s all. And in return, I’ll show you the respect you deserve.” The man took another deep drag on his cigarette. He had the uncanny air of a man who moved in the shadows. “You know Mr Kim Woo-sang, right? He visited you guys in ’98. The man with a gingko tree in his body.”
“It wasn’t in his body; it was on his finger.”
“So you do know him! Then by any chance do you know his current whereabouts?”
“No, and if I did I wouldn’t be able to tell you.”
“Mr Kim is dead. We found him two years ago on Mt Chiri. When we got to him, his body was so shriveled up we could barely identify him. He was hanging from a gingko branch, you know. Dehydrated like a sundried pepper. It was ghastly, I wouldn’t even call it human. Our guys almost missed him completely.”
“So, what are you trying to say?”
“Mr Kim had a painful death. Deep in the mountains, where no one could help him, having the life sucked out of him by a parasitic tree. A bag of skin – that’s all that was left of him. Just thinking about it makes me shudder. And you know what? The ginkgo eventually died, too. It couldn’t get the nutrients it needed from the ground. Tell me, Mr Kong. Do you think Mr Kim’s gingko tree was a naturally occurring phenomenon? A random mutation or something like that?”
“I do.”
“You’ve never thought that it might be another one of Professor Kwon’s experiments?”
At that moment, a thunderous bronze bell began to ring in my head. Why had I never thought about that? Why had I never thought that the reason Professor Kwon thought that he couldn’t and shouldn’t do anything for symptomers was because of something bad he had done in the past?
“Professor Kwon’s doctor says that he has less than three months to live,” the man continued. “For almost forty years, he always conducted his research alone. He never took a successor, a disciple, not even a research assistant. And then one day he made you his assistant. You! Why do you think he did that?”
“You should know; you’ve obviously done your homework on me and Professor Kwon. But anyway, I’m not as capable as you think. All I do is clean and organize documents. And if what you tell me is true, if those files really are worth at least two billion won, then the Professor Kwon I know would never entrust such documents to someone like me.”
“The chimera data isn’t worth two billion. It’s worth hundreds of billions, maybe even trillions. In other words, it must still exist. No one would throw away such valuable data so easily. And Professor Kwon risked his life to collect that data. There’s no way he got rid of it. Presently, I would say you are the closest to those files. In that sense, you have an unusual opportunity in front of you, Mr Kong. There’s no need for you to have any moral reservations. If there are chimera files, sooner or later they will end up in the hands of the syndicate. The syndicate is powerful and not easily deterred. We follow profit wherever it may lead us. The syndicate never gives up. What I’m trying to get at is this: Those files are eventually going to end up in our hands. It’s just a matter of when and how. There’s nothing you can do to stop it. My proposition is that we finish this in the easiest way possible. Take some time to think about it. Two billion for the chimera files. And if there’s anything else of interest, it can be handed over in a separate deal. When you’ve made your decision, call the number on my card.”
“But who is the syndicate?”
“I’m not at liberty to say. I’m sure you understand.”
When he finished speaking, the man stood up from his seat. He gave me a slight bow and left the café. His movements were swift and decisive. After the man left, I sat in the café for a while. I called over the waiter and ordered a beer. I tried to think, but my head wasn’t working. As I looked outside the window and sipped on my beer, I suddenly muttered to myself, “So Mr Kim is dead. That fat, shy man is dead.”
It was past 11 in the evening when I returned to the research center. There was something I needed to check in the file room. My head was whirring. Was Mr Kim really the product of one of Professor Kwon’s experiments? Mr Kim died alone, deep in the mountains where no one could help him. If it was true that he was unable to escape from that gingko tree, then he died an even slower and more painful death than we had imagined he would. I had never really thought of Professor Kwon as a moral person. But I had never really thought of him has an immoral person either. Then again, maybe this was never a matter of morality.
I knew going through Professor Kwon’s desk and the cabinet in the file room was going to be a fool’s errand. Professor Kwon was too meticulous of a person to put such files, if they existed, in a place where I could find them. But I still had to check for myself. If there were such chimera files, where would they be? Could there be a secret safe in Professor Kwon’s office that I didn’t know about? Or perhaps at his home? What about inside that black leather bag that he always carried around? Inside a bank vault, perhaps? But even if I could get my hands on those files, would I really sell them to the syndicate?
Who am I kidding? Of course I would. There was little doubt in the matter.
The lights were on in the security office at the front entrance to the research institute. But there were no guards to be seen. They had probably left to go drinking like they always did. That’s how things were at this place. I got through the front entrance with my access card and briskly walked to the file room on the fourth floor.
When I opened the door to the file room, something startled me. Someone was looking through Cabinet 13 with a flashlight. As soon as they heard the door, they quickly turned off their flashlight. My head was exploding with foreboding thoughts. Struck with fear, I yelled out “Who’s there?” as I switched on the light. I was dumbstruck to see that it was Jeong-eun who was squatting in front of Cabinet 13. She also looked stunned by my sudden appearance.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
Jeong-eun didn’t respond. In her hands were several files, and a blue notebook in which it appeared she had been writing. I snatched the files and notebook from her hands. Written in the blue notebook were neatly organized notes about symptomers. I was such an idiot. It was clear she had been sneaking peeks of the files in Cabinet 13 for some time now. How could I have been so completely unaware of it?
“I said, what are you doing here!”
My voice burned with anger. Even I was shocked by my shouting. But she remained silent.
“Do you understand what I’m saying? Ms Son, whether you like talking with other people or not is of no concern to me. I’m not going to blame you for being a quiet person. Everyone has the freedom to live in whichever way floats their boat. But let me be clear, now is not the time to be silent.”
And yet still she said nothing. Her shoulders were shaking slightly and large tears were beginning to form in her terrified eyes. Fuck, why did Jeong-eun have to show up out of nowhere and get mixed up in all of this? Today was not my day.
I sat down with Jeong-eun at the foot volleyb
all court. Today was a strange day, indeed. Chaos always came in waves. I offered her a cigarette out of habit. She took the cigarette, lit it, and took a long drag in silence.
“I didn’t know you smoked,” I said.
“I don’t often smoke around other people.”
“How long have you been reading those files?”
“For a while.”
“Can you be more precise?”
“About two years.”
“And does Professor Kwon know?”
“…”
There’s no way he wouldn’t know. Nothing can happen around here without his knowing it. After all, his default mode is to not trust humans. But then again, maybe he didn’t know. Maybe Jeong-eun was giving information to the syndicate right under our noses. I flipped through her blue notebook. She had organized nearly all the file’s contents. This was on a whole other level from when I had read the files just for kicks back in the day.
“Did you make a deal with the syndicate?” I asked.
She raised her head to look at me. Her eyes were telling me that she had no idea what I meant.
“Then I guess Professor Kwon told you to do it.”
She didn’t answer. I pressed her again.
“Then why are you reading those files?”
“Someone has to look after the files if Professor Kwon dies.”
So that was it. Unsurprisingly, Professor Kwon was a crafty bastard. His thoroughness was starting to get on my nerves. It didn’t matter if it wasn’t me. She might be insurance, and I might be insurance. But what difference did it make to me now? I couldn’t care less what happened to that damn cabinet.
The weather was chilly and Jeong-eun was shivering slightly. And yet she wasn’t betraying any emotion. Finally, I spoke.
“Let’s go home. We can talk about the rest next time. It’s almost morning anyway. We both need some shuteye if we’re going to come to work tomorrow, even if just for a few hours.”