by Leigh Lyn
The tags had irked me at first. Peter had named this company, not after the column heads, but after the country where King Sisyphus rolled boulders up a hill until the end of time. In a perverted way, Peter claimed rolling boulders was how the first builders had constructed the grandest, most enduring architectural feats of ancient times. In his eyes, Sisyphus’s monumental effort was not futile at all. It did little to cheer us up, but the comparison brought him joy. To be fair, Peter had enough passion to make up for any lack of luster among his staff. It was a passion we shared, which, I thought, was the reason my job was still waiting for me after my episode.
When I was ready to return to work fourteen months ago, Peter surprised me by welcoming me back with open arms. I guess he felt guilty it was the three all-nighters that did me in.
“We need hardworking designers like you, but try to tone it down a notch.” He winked. “Also, you report to Stephanie instead of me from now on.”
That I could understand, after the thing I did with the table and all. Apologetic without apologizing, Peter transferred the science park to a different senior associate and gave me a new project. All vanity aside, he did need me. Lately, all architectural firms large and small had been flooded with commissions from the Mainland as a result of a Chinese intercity competition. All Party secretaries wanted to secure their ascent on the Party ladder. The best way of doing that was by championing the biggest and most grandiose urban development schemes, because that attracted more investment, fostered more growth, and earned them more brownie points.
My team had agreed to come in for a few hours in the morning to prepare for an important presentation on Wednesday. In a dimmed meeting room, we reviewed the competition project.
“Can we fly through the site model?” I asked.
We watched the animated clip projected on the screen. A bird’s-eye view showed a peninsula studded with skyscrapers. Slowly, the camera zoomed in on a statue of Mao on a hilltop in front of a building shaped like a giant Faberge egg. Next, the view scrolled down the hill and ended at the waterfront.
“The retail strip starting with the statue in front of the museum is the backbone of the scheme,” said Don, the new senior architect who had replaced Matt.
“Is this the statue they want?” Suki asked.
Chairman Mao’s manic smile had caught my eye too. “Take that grin off his face now, Jon, in case you forget. Remember last time?”
Jonathan, the intern responsible for the computer model, chuckled as he made a note.
“Also, I’m not comfortable with its location. Can we put it inside the building, where it’s less conspicuous?” I asked.
“We did that for the last presentation, but the Project Manager asked us to put it back outside. He says the instruction came from the top,” Don replied.
“His top or the very top?”
Don gazed at me, dropping his eyelids.
I sighed. “Put it to the side instead of in the middle. The retail spine stretches all the way to the foot of the hill. That’s three hundred meters; what have we got to ease the circulation?”
“We’re shooting people up with escalators and people-movers. Once at the top, the only way down is to meander through the shops and restaurants.”
“Excellent.”
I peeked at the Jaeger. It was eleven. I needed to wrap this up and leave for my appointment.
“Let’s move on to the apartments,” I said. Jonathan played a second animation showing the residences.
“Teeing off from the spine are the residential towers. The distance mitigates the hustle and bustle of the retail,” Don explained. The camera zoomed through trees, lawns, and village squares to multiple stacks of Corinth’s distinctive brand of modern high-rises.
“How have you arranged the units for rehabilitation?”
“The original residents are rehabilitated on the bottom three floors of each tower to avoid complaints about fairness.”
“Can we try a more segregated scheme where we put them all together in one or two towers at the foot of the hill?”
“Don’t you think a more integrated scheme will be less divisive?” Don asked.
“Perhaps, but a segregated scheme is more viable financially, and developers, even Chinese ones, always go for that.” I looked around the room. “Alright, people, thanks for the good work. Let’s convene the day after tomorrow.”
You could say I’d settled back into my job well. I’d worked hard to re-establish myself. Emotionally, I felt like a sponge in a desert. Walking back to my desk, I was drawn to the expansive view outside. Some thirty feet below, an eagle squawked while gliding through the purple sky; a stunning side effect of pollution. Across the fragrant harbor was Kowloon, famously named after eight dragons that were believed to lurk under its hilly topography.
The image of a morning just like this flashed before my eyes. The sky was just as electrifying and a bird like the one outside was circling over the water. Matt and I had watched the sunrise from this window. After a seventy-two-hour stretch in the office, our brains felt fried, so we decided we should go home.
Like a zombie, I’d removed my clothes and got into the shower, where my mind slipped to a fantastical place. My skin had adopted a blue sheen and my hair fanned out like white strands of silk as I sank into a vast volume of water. The world was reduced to one substance; one limitless dimension that unified everything. In a little burrow, a yellow light shone. The small light grew larger and larger as I shrank and shrank until the cavity was large enough for me to squeeze through. Tempted by the unknown, I found myself in the liquid-filled eye of a humongous creature. I was enveloped by a vision so overwhelming it blinded me. I swam and swam until I discovered another slit. Squirming through, I found myself surrounded by thousands of glowing tentacles swaying to the rhythm of the water. I had no control nor cognizance.
I was part of a larger consciousness that was cosmic yet intimately connected to all other creatures, large and small. Surrounded by discs moving all around me, I realized I had assumed their form. I was them, and they were me. Some were black, some white, and some were a muted gray that faded until they popped into nothingness. Like floats in an unstoppable current, we passed through more slits and flowed through an immense network of veins linking all living creatures present, past, and future. I was immersed in a boundless sense of being, which seemed to last an eternity until I was abruptly discarded through a hole. I had spilled out onto the seabed again.
Without a trace, the boundless being was gone, and I’d gained an endless tail that swept up sand until the water was blurry. I felt the dirt as it sullied my scales. A white light descended from above, and hot seawater flushed over and warmed my skin. The next thing I knew, they hauled me from the water in a net and spilled me over a ship’s deck with hundreds of other creatures like myself. Men with knives hacked off our tails and dumped our bodies into tubes of salt while we bemoaned our guilt, wailing in silence. In the distance, a siren went off.
I woke up on the shower bench with hot water streaming down my limp body. My side, which I’d leaned against the tiled wall, had assimilated its pattern with joints embossed in my skin. The phone was ringing. Hurrying to answer it, I had nearly slipped on the bathroom floor where an inch of water had spilled.
It was Kat.
“Come back at once,” she said. “Peter went ape-shit after Roger showed him your drawing of the science park project. That was your drawing, wasn’t it?”
What could I say? It was mine indeed.
Chapter 7
The first Friday after I had returned to work, I joined my colleagues for happy hour. A coworker asked if I was better now, peering into my eyes for any sign of insanity. Another congratulated me for doing what he had always wanted to try: yell at the boss, flip a table on top of him and, best of all, come back as if nothing had happened.
“How did you do it?” They joked, making sure that Peter, who was standing on the far side of the bar, couldn’t hear. Although we
had talked about my situation and the circumstances under which I would return to my position, he had never told me what he thought of the episode in the conference room. But Peter turned out to be the most candid of them all.
He laughed, coming over to chat after he spotted me. “As cracked as the crazing in a Raku vase.”
Peter collected Chinese and Japanese antique ceramics. Spotting my faltering smile, he clanked his glass to mine and added, “I shouldn’t have promised the client we’d finish the presentation in three days, but you know what clients are like. I’m glad you are back though.”
Peter ordered another round.
“Never do three all-nighters again, no matter what I promise, alright?”
I grinned and nodded.
“When you said our client had taken us on a detour, I was suspicious. When you said the specification for the basement was adequate for Guantanamo-style lodgings, I thought you were joking, but when you said the facilities were geared toward medical tests on humans to produce post-humans, I knew you had lost it!”
“Did I say that?” Heat seeped under my skin and rose from my neck to the roots of my hair.
Peter smiled and nodded. “By the way, there is a design competition for the Corp I want you to do. Just a little task to slip in-between your other jobs,” he said, with a wink.
The Corp was the architectural spin-off of Gao Yao’s, and it was now or never.
“Speaking of the Corp, Peter,” I said, “you never mentioned what they thought of the design I did. Did you present it to them at all?”
“I’m not cra—” Peter stopped mid-sentence, seeing the expression on my face. Dampening his voice, he started again, “No offense, but we get most of our jobs from mainland companies like the Corp and Gao Yao Inc. We can’t go around upsetting them for the slightest hiccups.”
“The slightest hiccups?” I watched him through my eyelashes.
“Listen.” Peter sighed. “It’s water under the bridge between you and me, but these Chinese companies are like vacuum cleaners who suck up all our technical know-how. Their design institutes have already learned how to build these laboratories. We’re lucky they consider the brand we’ve built worthy of attaching to their facilities. Otherwise, they would have fired us yesterday.” Peter dipped his chin and gazed deeper into my eyes. “And honestly? The absurd design you did wasn’t presentable.”
“So, what happened?” I asked, turning redder still.
“I presented the old plan and waved your drawing in the air, saying it needed work. Then, the Chairman freaked out about what to tell the Provincial Secretary.”
“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” I said, embarrassed.
“Not at all. Because there was no way I would to present the layout you and Matt brewed up, I asked Roger to communicate our concerns to the project manager before the meeting.”
“And?” I asked.
“And according to Roger, the Corp said they would step back, and G.Y. themselves would drive the design and decide which way to go. The project manager told Roger to separate your plan from the main presentation of the original design and send it to them. After that, we wouldn’t have to work on it again nor should we ever mention it... And that was that.”
It was not the answer I was hoping for, but it supported my suspicions.
“So, did they accept the plans or not?”
“The Corp said they didn’t mind it as long as G.Y. was happy, them being the end-users and all. And G.Y. never commented. No one mentioned it, as a matter of fact. I was going to let it blow over, but the very next day our account department received all the outstanding fees plus half a million for the extra option.” Peter snapped his fingers. “Just like that.”
I gawked at Peter. “And it’s what they will build?”
“No, that’s the odd thing. They aren’t.”
I doubted Peter believed this himself, but I kept the observation quiet.
“Roger did well then.”
“Roger did OK, but he never showed up in our office after that meeting.”
“What do you mean? Where did he go?”
Peter squinted as he answered. “He never showed up; never called. Without a shriek, he evaporated.” Peter snapped his fingers again. “Just like that!”
Good God.
“You didn’t go to the police?” I asked.
“I have too much on my plate to arrange search parties for staff who don’t show up. There’s been a few, you know. You remember Matt?” Peter asked.
I nodded.
“Matt knew. He stayed behind after the meeting to discuss something with Roger and the project manager. He seemed shaken when I asked him what had happened. He wouldn’t tell me and resigned a few days later.”
“But why did they pay everything so abruptly if they aren’t planning to build it?” I asked.
“Beats me... The worse thing about this saga is that it cost me two good architects. If they weren’t such well-paying clients, I would have given them a piece of my mind.” I knew Peter said this to make me feel better. He was smooth this way, which explained why he was the boss.
“Ultimately, the chairman was satisfied. He said, ‘We are content if G.Y. is happy. We get to keep G.Y. as our largest tenant, you get your fee, and Li Meng is pleased.’”
“Who is Li Meng?”
“Li Meng is a top government official you’ve never met. She is also a director on the G.Y. and the Corp’s board. She’s frightening.” Peter made quotation marks in the air as he said, “A ‘dragon lady.’ I know you think I'm sexist now, but this woman is an ankle-biter; a battle-ax. She knows what she wants and stops at nothing to get it. You’re lucky you don’t have to deal with her.”
Peter rolled his eyes. “Anyway, the chairman said, ‘As long as Li Meng is pleased, I am.’ At that point, I remembered your rant about the human experiments and began to worry about human rights activists getting on our tails, so I asked about the implementation.
“‘Don’t worry,’ the chairman said. ‘No one will ask you to build it.’ Just the other night he took me out to discuss another project site and gave me another competition on the spot.”
“So, it’s a job well done?” I leaned my head back to see him better.
“Yes! Everyone is happy.” Peter looked smitten.
“And it’s this competition you want me to work on?”
“Yes.” Peter lowered his voice. “The folks at G.Y. mentioned you by name. They want you to take charge of this project.”
I choked and spat out my drink. Have they, for some sardonic reason, decided to hold their grip on me? Or was it their appreciation for delivering them hell on an A-0 sheet of paper?
“Project? I thought you said it’s a competition?” I asked.
“Yeah, well, you have competitions, and then you have ‘competitions.’” Peter winked.
“I see.”
“Anyway, you know what the client is like. If you have any problems, come to me immediately.” He smiled. “Before you crack, if you don’t mind.”
I smiled back. “Can I ask you a hypothetical question?”
“This is not the time to ask me for a raise, Lin.”
“It’s not that. Would you have built those dungeons if they asked you to?”
Peter laughed. “Corinth will never build any dungeons to imprison post-humans.”
I’m sure Peter himself believed what he said, but I had no doubts his loyalty was to his wallet first. Seeing the smile I mustered, he added, “Don’t worry, the competition is a piece of cake. Wait, what am I saying? It’s a crumb. A low-cost public housing scheme with retail, that’s all it is. A simple joint venture between the Corp and the municipal government.”
“Is it part of the new socialist housing plan they were criticizing on the news because it’s regressive in its ideology?” I remembered.
“That’s political in-fighting. This model is perfectly aligned with the Party’s number-one objective.”
“Which is?”
“A harmonious society.”
“That simple?”
“Yes! Don’t worry, it’ll be smooth sailing as long as you come up with a cool, catchy concept.”
“You reckon?” My face was doing a bad job hiding what I was thinking,
“Yes! Listen, Lin, it’s tough doing business in China if you don’t let go of your puritanical views. The Chinese have their own way of doing things. And our maxim at Corinth is to be loyal to clients who are loyal to us.”
And that was how I was assigned to another project for the Corp. It had nothing to do with laboratories or science parks, but it was in Chongqing, the most notorious of all cities in China.
I packed up my bag and was just about to leave when Don showed up at my desk. His handsome Eurasian face looked tormented.
“Hey Lin, there is a hiccup about the stone-wall cladding you specified for the science park project in Chongqing.”
Hearing him mention my old Corp project, my chest tightened. Curious, but as casual as I could, I asked, “What’s wrong?”
“They’re fake.”
Don is from GSD, Harvard’s Graduate School of Design of Architecture, who joined Corinth three months ago.
“Is it a good fake or a bad fake?” I asked.
He shrugged wearily, eyelids half-mast. “They’re real fakes.”
“Welcome to China,” I said, as I walked toward the exit. “It’s alright, even though it’s not. Anyhow, I’ll talk to you about it after the weekend.”
Chapter 8
Once I reached the edge of Victoria Park where the demonstrators began their march, motorbike policemen in fluorescent jackets were directing the traffic at each crossing. Cars were prevented from entering the side streets toward Hennessy Road; the main road along which the protestors would parade toward Central. The traffic redirected to a parallel street was crawling along like a multi-colored centipede.
Bored, I drummed my fingers on the leather-clad steering wheel and switched on the radio. The smooth melodious voice of the male newscaster crooned, “Since the last Party chief of Chongqing stepped down a few weeks ago, his post had been vacant, leaving the city already plagued by problems in limbo. But the wait has proven worthwhile as a new chief is lauded with unprecedented high praises from the public for his anti-corruption squads. Yet his opponents claim they were political moves to get rid of opposition.