The Noodle Maker

by Ma Jian

  When I returned from the conference, I found the dog had been taken from my terrace and placed in the museum workshop. I heard that he would be travelling to Beijing the following month to take part in a national exhibition. When I first paid him a visit in the carpenter’s workshop, his coat seemed softer and shinier than it was when he was alive. His sad-looking eyes had been replaced by a pair of shiny glass balls. His ears used to droop, but now that they had dried, they stood up perkily on end. The carpenter had stuffed so much cotton wool into his stomach, he looked like a pregnant bitch. Around him lay piles of dead animals waiting to be stuffed. A leopard with glass eyes leaned against the wall, its four limbs still nailed to a wooden frame; a gutted fox waiting to be put outside to dry in the sun stared sadly out of the open window. Compared to the dismembered and lacerated pheasants, bald eagles and pythons by his side, the survivor looked very animated. But however hard I tried, I could never associate the dead survivor with the dog I had known.

  My roof terrace is huge. When you stand by the edge, you can see the whole town spread out below. The survivor could spy on every home in every street. In over two years, he never once left the roof: that’s to say, he lived his entire life in mid-air. He kept his distance from the rest of humanity and refused to enter their world. While three thousand dogs perished at the hands of the town’s extermination brigade, he was able to survive two years up there, thanks to me and the distance he kept from the crowds. He often saw his fellow dogs being chased and battered by the authorities, and it upset him. But I must admit that on seven occasions I was tempted to hand him over to the police, as I knew this might improve my chances of being awarded Party membership. By looking after him, I sometimes felt I was bringing disgrace upon the Party. He often spouted reactionary ideas that would later trouble my mind during the political study classes at work.

  He matured a great deal during his two years with me, and learned a few elegant turns of phrase. He developed a deep insight into all things that had happened and had not yet happened. His shiny black coat and droopy ears gave him the look of a foreign lawyer. His unusual bald head and long grey whiskers added to this air of a wise elder. He secretly saw himself as a holy messenger and prophet. He was optimistic about China’s implementation of the Open Door Policy, and agreed with the authorities that exhibitions of nude paintings weren’t in tune with the social climate of our country. When the Central Committee announced that they’d given a Chinese woman their personal consent to marry a French citizen, he praised their courage. He argued that the Responsibility System could save socialism, and applauded the government’s moves to encourage foreign companies to invest in our country. I asked him whether this policy would be tantamount to allowing foreign capitalists to take over the Chinese economy, but he just laughed at me coldly. I admit I grew very fond of him. Every day I brought back delicious things for him to eat and drink. I lost hours of sleep, worrying that one day the police would find him and take him away. My attachment to him was so deep that I managed to sit through my girlfriend’s suicide performance without shedding a tear.

  Our conversations were fascinating. He told me stories from the Greek legends and fables from the Bible. His topics ranged from the ancient world to the modern, from China to the West. His imagination was boundless. It was a pleasure to spend my evenings with him. A few days before we witnessed the gang rape that took place on the streets below us, I asked him what changes dogs would make if they were placed in control of this town. He said: ‘First and foremost, we would eliminate the dog extermination brigade. Dogs are not to blame for rabies – we are just the innocent carriers of the virus. The dogs of this town would be granted the same privileges that dogs in foreign countries enjoy: they would be issued with dog collars made of real leather, and warm woollen dog coats. We would encourage humans to follow our example and restrict themselves to mating seasons, so as to improve the quality of their species. We would protect your borders, allow you freedom to travel, and freedom to set up opposition parties.’

  His drooping ears flapped contentedly, and he continued: ‘Our dog government will send your politicians and generals to the countryside to produce high quality meat for us. Their salaries and status will be second only to ours. If I were the mayor of this town, I’d ban all political meetings and study sessions, and I’d urge people to walk on all fours, as modestly and unassumingly as us. I would also scrap the practice of blasting exercise music through the town every morning, so that people could have a lie-in if they wanted to.’

  ‘And what will our duties be in the new society?’

  ‘To serve the dogs,’ he said. ‘You will simply have to change your motto from “Serve the People” to “Serve the Dogs”. Your main responsibility will be to provide us with food and drink. As long as you don’t start wasting your time with useless political meetings, we will cause you no harm. Remember – a dog is a man’s best friend, and a man is a dog’s best partner.’

  A few days later, as we looked down on the girl being raped in the streets below, the dog went back to this conversation and said, ‘But there’s one thing we’ll insist on when we come to power: we will ban all cars, trucks and bicycles from the town, to ensure that dogs are free to cross the roads when they wish.’

  That day, the traffic in the streets below was blocked solid. At the intersection, a group of young men had pinned a girl to the ground and were raping her again and again. They had ripped all the clothes from her body and flung them in the air.

  (‘Gang rapes are becoming a common sight in the cities and towns of China,’ the blood donor tells his friend. ‘In Shanghai last year, there was a gang rape that lasted two hours. The traffic in Nanjing Road came to a standstill. The crowd of spectators was so thick, the police were unable to reach the scene of the crime. When the girl managed to break free at last, she clambered up to the traffic warden’s watchtower and begged for help, but the warden refused to open his door for her. The boys then pulled her down and began to rape her all over again. I read that the girl later suffered a nervous breakdown. After the rapists were finally arrested, the ringleader was driven to a sports stadium and executed by a firing squad.’)

  The girl below us finally managed to break free. She climbed up to the traffic warden’s watchtower to beg for help, but the warden refused to open his door. He said he was only responsible for the traffic. Before she had time to argue, one of her attackers pulled her down again and pressed her to the ground. From the terrace, he looked like a mechanical toy as he thrust himself in and out of her body. His partners stood around him in a circle, pushing the onlookers back.

  ‘They’ve brought the traffic to a stop,’ the survivor said. ‘When dogs mate, our friends don’t stand about gaping at us like that.’

  ‘This shouldn’t be happening!’ I shouted. ‘It’s a disgrace!’

  A large crowd had gathered on the streets. People stared out from the windows of the surrounding apartment blocks. A mob stormed onto the pedestrian flyover above the intersection even though it hadn’t yet been officially opened to the public. In the scrum, a few people were squeezed over the edge and fell onto the crowd below. Time and again, the girl’s white bra could be seen flying into the air, then floating gently to the ground. Her red knickers were flung so high, they became caught on one of the lamps on the flyover. Two young men challenged each other to bring them down. As they climbed the flyover’s cement legs, the crowd burst into applause. The thinner of the two made it to the top first. He grabbed hold of the knickers, kissed them, then hurled them back down into the crowd. A man below caught them and tossed them into the air again. For a minute or so, they hovered above the crowd like a dove, before falling once more to the ground.

  ‘Humans have powerful herding instincts. It’s no wonder you need to be controlled. You’d be much better off living together like ants, antelopes and moths, rather than shutting yourselves up in separate rooms.’

  ‘I don’t understand those people,’ I said. ‘They must h
ave lost their minds.’

  ‘Perhaps other animals are equally indifferent to the suffering of their own kind, but I doubt any of them could find as many ways to inflict pain as men have. It seems to me that man is the lowest beast of the lot.’

  By that time, the dog had already lived on the terrace for nearly two years.

  ‘Look at the secret glee on the faces of the crowd,’ he said. ‘Everyone can see what’s happening, but no one is prepared to put a stop to it. Now you know the evil that lies hidden behind the blank faces you pass every day on the streets. Wherever a street lamp goes out at night, a woman is sure to be raped. Look at all those men down there. It usually takes a lot to make them blush, but they’re so excited now, their faces are bright red. I can smell the blood rushing to their genitals.’

  ‘This is nothing!’ I cried. ‘When Chairman Mao came out to greet the Red Guards in Tiananmen Square, the crowds were far more excited than this.’

  ‘What was so exciting about seeing your Chairman?’

  ‘Just imagine it. We grew up seeing his image plastered over every wall, book, newspaper and film. He was the only thing people ever talked about. So it was only natural that when we were able to see him at last with our own eyes, the emotion would send us into a frenzy.’

  ‘But when it comes down to it, Chairman Mao was just a human being like any other,’ the dog said.

  ‘If it weren’t for me, there would be no you. If it weren’t for Chairman Mao, there would be no today,’ I countered. His reactionary ideas were beginning to anger me.

  ‘And what’s so good about today?’ He puckered his lips and pointed them to the scene unfolding below. The girl had been pushed down again, and was being groped by a sea of hands. Her voice had died, and the tears that drenched her hair had run dry. A gang of youths climbed onto the roof of a stationary bus to get a better view. The men nearest the naked girl pressed her legs down, and kicked each other back as they fought to climb on top of her.

  ‘I’m sure those thugs come from bad family backgrounds,’ I said.

  ‘What point does human existence serve?’ the dog asked pompously.

  ‘That sounds like a phrase from one of the books on my top shelf!’ I snapped. ‘I hope you haven’t been reading those books behind my back!’

  A blush rose to the dog’s cheeks, and he turned his face away in shame. He had been lying in the sunniest corner of the terrace all morning, his head resting on a metal pipe, his front leg (which grew from the middle of his chest) stretched lazily forward. When the warm breeze stroked across his shiny coat, a loose hair would detach itself and drift down towards the mob below. By midday the crowd was still growing. A coach became marooned behind the stationary bus, and was unable either to retreat or advance. The girl was now too weak to put up a struggle. When the men who were sprawled on top of her heard the siren of a police car, they jumped up and tried to hide themselves in the crowd, but no space opened for them. The girl wrapped her arms over her thighs and chest as though she were trying to keep herself warm. When her attackers finally managed to make their escape, the crowd closed in on her. Hundreds of hands squeezed and fondled her body. She lay on the road as limp as a dying rabbit, and shuddered convulsively.

  ‘That young man who just ran off is the girl’s boyfriend,’ the survivor said.

  ‘How do you know that?’ I shouted. The revolutionary anthem ‘Chairman Mao’s Brilliance Lights Up the World’ was now blaring from the loudspeakers on the flyover.

  ‘Last month I saw them strolling together down Liberation Street. They continued to Fifth Street, then cut through East Peace Street to West Peace Street. In the early hours of the morning, I spotted them emerging from Friendship Park.’

  ‘If he’s her boyfriend, how could he bring three men along with him to rape her?’

  ‘Men possess a trait that no dogs have.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Jealousy,’ he said, scratching his whiskers. The horde of spectators was becoming restless. People were continually pushing in from the surrounding streets and alleys. The policemen climbed out of their car and charged into the crowd. The people they squeezed out of the way soon found new gaps to fill. A melodious tenor’s voice rang through the loudspeakers, singing:

  Our beloved Party, you have been like a mother to me. You’ve taught me to love our country and encouraged me to study hard. A joyful tomorrow waves its hand to me, beckoning me onwards …

  The noise of the orchestra and the police siren reverberated through the air above the crowd.

  ‘Are you suggesting she was unfaithful to him, then?’

  ‘Human beings shouldn’t be allowed to fall in love,’ he said with great feeling.

  ‘What’s happening below is just a chance occurrence,’ I said, trying to defend the human race.

  ‘Look how you treated your girlfriend!’

  ‘She was an exceptional case.’

  The survivor smiled. When he smiled, his eyes twinkled and his whiskers quivered up and down.

  Another batch of policemen in white uniforms charged through the streets. It was decided that the builders’ cabin on the pedestrian flyover should be converted into the temporary headquarters of the crowd dispersal unit. Four officers hauled a bench into the cabin, and a waitress from a nearby restaurant delivered a tray with tea cups and a thermos of hot water. This was a sign that the town leaders were about to arrive, and sure enough, a few minutes later, two limousines with red flags on the bonnet arrived from the municipal Party committee building, and three black cars with tinted windows turned up from the public security bureau. The vehicles cut a wide path through the crowd and came to a halt below the flyover. The officials stepped out, shook hands and pointed jovially at each other’s bulging stomachs. Then they climbed up to the flyover, and with a great show of ceremony, entered the cabin to discuss how to resolve the situation.

  The dog licked his outstretched leg and curled his tongue around the swollen red patch above his claws. The patch was bare. It looked like a wound, although neither of us could explain how he had got it. Leaning his head back again on the metal pipe he said sleepily, ‘It will be another two hours before the police finally get to the girl. She will be as good as dead by then.’

  ‘But look, they have nearly reached her.’

  ‘No, they’re not moving. They’re just standing still now, waiting for the leaders in the cabin to come to a decision.’

  I took a closer look and saw that the officers were indeed standing still. The crowd appeared to have calmed down a little, although everyone seemed uncomfortable at having to stand so close together. Some men took out cigarettes from their pockets and offered them to the policemen. Then they passed their lighters around and started discussing Tian Gu’s new hairstyle in her latest film, The Happy Revolution.

  ‘If those hooligans were dogs, how would you deal with them?’ I asked the survivor.

  ‘The fact is dogs would never commit such a crime.’

  ‘Still, the committee leaders are doing a fine job. They’ve charged into the thick of things and resolved to sort this matter out in person.’

  ‘Of course, the editorial of tomorrow’s newspaper will claim that the secretary of the municipal Party committee left his sickbed to rush here and put an end to this hooligan riot. You are lowly creatures, far inferior to us dogs. You try to adopt our civilised behaviour and our sense of morality and justice, but in your hearts all you think about is money and food coupons.’

  The dog seemed to ignore for a moment the noise booming from the streets below. He turned his head away. ‘Can you do me a favour?’ he said, lowering his gaze to the ground. ‘I saw some spare ribs in a dustbin on Serve the People Road. There was still some meat left on the bones.’

  I kept silent.

  ‘They were obviously stewed in some thick, spicy sauce,’ he said, still averting his eyes. He took a gulp of water from his bowl, then pointed his nose into the air and sniffed the breeze.

  ‘You sti
ll haven’t finished that joint I brought back from the cafeteria yesterday.’

  ‘It was revolting,’ he moaned. ‘You know I don’t like mutton bones.’

  ‘But I can only get bones from the Muslim section now.’

  He bowed his head again and sighed.

  In the streets below, the crowd started scattering like a swarm of ants. More policemen and security officers arrived at the scene. Then a regiment of PLA soldiers, fronted by two army tanks, suddenly appeared from nowhere, and began to drive back the remaining hordes chanting ‘Socialism is good!’ in thick Henan accents.

  ‘They’ve caught one of the rapists,’ I cried.

  ‘Did you see those people demonstrating in the streets last week?’ The dog seemed distracted. He was probably still thinking about the spare ribs in the dustbin.

  A huge grey cloud moved through the sky, and the streets darkened. The girl was wrapped in a blanket and escorted into a police van. On the flyover above the intersection, the leaders’ meeting was approaching a conclusion.

  ‘She shouldn’t have worn that tight skirt,’ I muttered. ‘None of the women in our museum are allowed to wear tight skirts.’

  The dog gazed up at the clouds and said, ‘In two minutes the rain will fall. It was the low air pressure this morning that made those boys lose their minds.’

  Raindrops cut through the sunlit sky like threads of nylon. The dog shook the water from his coat and stood up. ‘The rain is clean, but when it reaches the earth it turns into mud,’ he said. ‘Why not just enjoy the sight of the rain and forget about the mud?’

  ‘I live in the clouds, so of course I can just look at the rain. But your feet are stuck on the ground, so you can’t ignore the mud.’

  ‘You dogs are so lucky. You can roam the world without a care, while we must spend our days earning money to pay our rent, buy jumpers, raincoats and thermal underwear. If we want to keep our jobs, we must control our behaviour and deny ourselves the flights of fancy and reactionary meditations you indulge in. We have to study the newspapers every day to ensure we take the correct political line. Our skins are so thin, we have to wear clothes, and when these clothes are ripped from us, we become like naked pigs, or that girl on the street below. We depend on our elegant wrappings. We have to conceal our true natures if we want to survive.’