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Tuesday, November 20, 2007

Apollo Cuffs

The following is a work of fiction. Any resemblence to any person is purely coincidental.

The good thing about being thrown in the deep end is that you learn how to keep yourself afloat very quickly. It always amazes me how quickly a human learns to adapt to his situation. It amazes me even more how this act of adapting can occur in a blink, especially when his life is on the line.


As Sarge had predicted, our squad's operating strength was now down to twenty. That works out to two and a half casualties for every operation we went out on. The other thing that amazes me was how I treated those deaths the way I did: as mere statistics.

In the three weeks since I signed up as a Volunteer Corps soldier, I'd heard a lot of things about the ongoing war with the Republic of Dominique . Most of them were picked off the grapevine, so I had no way of telling how accurate the stories are. Humans also have a way of bloating some things out of proportion. However, it seemed to me that the Dominiques had truly been successful in their foray into biological weapons. Military intel remained tight-lipped, but speculation was that the Doms could release an airborne bacteria that attaches itself to living things. Once a host is found, the bacteria will multiply and somehow "brainwash" the host. The Doms didn't have to send their armed forces to invade us. Our own citizens became their army. The more I heard about it off the grapevine, the more the hairs on my back stood on their ends. We weren't the only ones who came face to face with victims of such atrocities. All across the south border of Constella, soldiers have been attacked by these ex-citizens-turned-zombies.

The Volunteer Corps Regiment was now moved to the east border of Constella. The Republic of Dominique had shelled the south border intensively, but our east border had remained relatively untouched. However, intel believed that with our forces spread thin along the south containing the zombies (which intel has taken to call an "infestation"), Dominique might try sending in their regular army along the east border.

Around 800 of us, all volunteers, were bundled off on 3-tonners for the journey east. The journey would take twenty hours; I figured it was the perfect opportunity for me to find out what Sergeant William knew.

As the tonners cruised along the major expressway ("number four") that cuts north-east through the forests that cover most of southeast Constella, I turned to the Sarge and asked, "Hey, umm, you remember our first mission?"
Sarge half-opened one of his eyes at me. "I'm trying to get some rest here, kid."

I nervously fingered my BAR.

Sarge sighed, sat up on the bench and muttered the way he does when having a one-on-one conversation, "You want to know what exactly happened back then, and in the next mission we went out for. You wonder why those people turned against us. Listen, kid. Those weren't normal people. Something got to them and made them sick. That's why they started chewing up Ada . I don't want you hesitating the next time I order you to shoot. As far as the military is concerned, those civilians were already dead."

I slouched on the bench and hugged my gun. So he admitted the fact that our citizens have somehow turned against us. He says that they're "sick." Hmm. But he didn't specify how they could end up like that. He remembered the first casualty our squad suffered. What does he feel when he loses a person under his command?

I opened my mouth, hoping to extract more answers from him, but he was slouched back, eyes closed. His head rocked from side to side as the 3 tonner chugged uncomfortably along. "Don't bother asking. I don't know either." He said, as if he was replying the questions in my head. I think I doubted him then. But I figured out much later that while he seemed like a capable ground commander, sergeants exist near the bottom of the information chain, just above the footsoldier.

I had another 16 hours on that 3-tonner, but the questions remained unanswered.

We were pretty much stretched thin along the east border. Our squad, along with another squad from Baker company, was posted to the small city of Ursamin , population 4000. Upon arriving in the afternoon, we learnt that the CAF had already deployed a platoon from the medical reserve at the Gypsy town even further east, close to a pass that led demarcates our border. We were due to replace them the following morning. Sergeant William wanted us to wind down after the long ride up, so he gave us a choice for dinner: combat rations or do-it-yourself over R and R. It was pretty obvious which one I wanted.

Audrey wanted to visit the Gypsy town as she "wanted to see a real Gypsy". I wasn't too sure how far we were allowed to go on R and R, but it so happened that Sarge was interested in seeing one himself. Over at a deserted corner of the city, we found ourselves abandoned bicycles that we could "borrow".

We stopped at a quaint resthouse at the Gypsy town. At least it was supposed to be a resthouse, before the infestation. The whole town was quiet, but the owners, a middle-aged couple, were very warm and welcoming. For a few tense moments, we thought that we would not be able to find any hot chow in such a deserted town, but the couple quickly availed our fears by sitting us down at the benches while they busied themselves with preparing dinner.

Audrey gave the shelves amongst the gift shop a once-over. "Max! Check this out! Apollo Cuffs!" She cooed excitedly. I walked over to figure out what the big deal was. The wrist-cuffs she held up were a dirty golden colour, with red trimmings along the edges. I raised an eyebrow in question.

"Don't you know?" She asked, holding the cuffs up right under my nose. As if sniffing them will make me realize what they're for. I shrugged.
"Apollo Cuffs are what Gypsy women give away to bless the wearers. They are normally passed down from generation to generation, with mothers passing the cuffs down to their daughters. The girls will then pass the cuffs to their beaus before they head off on ardous tasks in the hopes that they will return safely and return the cuffs to the girl. However, the guy has a choice which girl he wants to pass the cuffs to. If he returns it to the girl who passed it to him, the girl takes it as a sign that they will end up together."
"That's so fairy tale." I deadpanned. After watching the destruction Dominique laid down on my hometown, I'd developed a bitter sense of cynicism.

"It's not fairy tale. It's tradition." A cold voice shot across the room. Audrey and I spun round towards the voice. Behind the sales counter stood a girl about our age. I guessed that she was the owners' daughter, and that she had been told to man the gift shop since there were guests. She had piercing green eyes, a honeyed complexion and bee-stung lips. So gypsy! I remembered thinking to myself.

Audrey slowly placed the cuffs back on the shelf. She asked unsurely, "I don't suppose they're for sale..."
"It's tradition." The girl replied simply.
She suddenly flashed a wide grin and said, "But I can offer you guys a fortune telling session! I'm not very good, so I need lots of practice with the crystal ball. Absolutely free!"

The girl pointed towards a small partition demarcated with heavy drapes. Audrey looked hesitant. She took half a step forward, then turned to push me towards the partition. "Y-y-you go first!" The girl smiled and pulled me into the partition. "Yes, we'll tell this young master's fortunes first!"

The girl pulled the drapes close, plunging the partition into relative darkness. I closed my eyes to condition them to the darkness, but suddenly felt something cold grab my hands. "What the? Your hands are cold!" I couldn't see her, but the girl's simple reply shot through the darkness, "I'm nervous about this too. Now, I'll need us both to relax."

Her hands led me to a small table at the centre of the dark space. I settled into an uncomfortable little stool. As soon as she placed my hands on the table top, a globe on the table top glowed to life. It looked like a dull purple flame encased within the glass sphere. "Oh dear, you're not in the best of moods, eh?" The girl muttered. "I need you to close your eyes, relax, and take deep breaths. I won't harm you."

I closed my eyes. I felt her fingers dance over mine intermittently.
I took one deep breath. I heard a crackling sound from the globe, and forced myself not to open my eyes.
I took my second deep breath and WHAM! my mind went totally blank. I felt that I'd been pulled into space. I couldn't breath, I felt every bit of my skin being pulled apart. Everywhere around me, I sensed great things, scary things, things that wanted to rip my flesh apart. I was one with everything, and yet one with nothing. This continued for what felt like hours.
Then I realised that I could breath again. I was breathing hard.
Then I realised that I wasn't feeling pain. I felt something wet and soft on my lips.
Then I realised, through my closed eyelids, that the globe was emmanating a warm, steady glow.

When I opened my eyes, I felt the girl's lips move away from mine. And I heard a click around my wrists. "You have a future ahead of you, Max Squire. I have none." Her face was still close to mine; so close that I could feel every warm breath from her words caress my nose. "I saw a period of cold in your life. But with that cold came warmth. I saw you throw down your weapon at the end of this conflict. And I saw you a long, long time later."

In the dim glow from the globe, I saw her pull her lips into a smirk. "I'll let you figure out the ending yourself." She fingered the Apollo Cuffs around my wrists, attempting to draw my attention to them. I had already figured that she'd snapped them on, so I asked simply, "Why?"

"Cos I want you to have something to remember me by. Cos by this time tomorrow, your memory is all that is left of me."
"You sound so cryptic! The reason we're here is to protect you!"
"No. You are protecting Ursamin, not the Gypsy community."
"But - "
"Remember me in the cuffs."
I subconciously touched my lips.
"Remember me in the kiss."

***

I slept really well that night. The dinner we had was the best warm food we had in a very long time. Of course, Constella was in a state of emergency and we had to be thankful our supply lines still provided us with combat rations, but nothing compares to a good home-cooked meal.

At daybreak, I was roused by Sergeant William's shouting. "Everyone up! Stand-to! We'd be deployed in 5 minutes!"

"What's up, Sargeant?" I shouted as he walked past.
"Didn't you hear? They've been shelling the Gypsy community the whole night! They've just lifted the barrage, so we're moving in to help extract the medical platoon!"

I felt a lump in my throat. I busied myself with gearing up to keep my mind off things. I slipped on my webbing, adjusted my helmet straps, drew more ammo for my BAR and filled up my water bottles.

At 7am, we marched into the Gypsy community. How one night of shelling changed the landscape. Much of the community lay in ruins. Sergeant William couldn't find the route to the medical encampment that he'd planned, so he led us zig-zagging through the rubble.

Suddenly, we heard gunshots near the original medical encampment site. Sarge looked back at us and said, "Let's roll." We were like dogs off their leashes. We leapt over the rubble, side-stepping, jumping, flying. We saw a few of the medics holding off a wall of zombies. The infestation had come to Ursamin.

Amongst the frenzy of helping to pull away the wounded and laying down automatic fire from my BAR, I didn't notice that the medics were wearing heavy, metal-lined vests, or how their rifles didn't have the wooden foregrips like those on our Garands.

"Max, lay down covering fire while we extract!" Sergeant William tapped my shoulder to despatch me to my position. I nodded, pressed myself against the wall and brought my BAR into firing position. And there, amongst the wall of zombies trudging towards us, I saw her.

Then I remembered the Apollo Cuffs around my wrists. And I remembered how I'd shared my first kiss with her. And how her premonition had come true. How do you expect me to shoot the girl who'd given me my first kiss? How am I supposed to return my cuffs to her if she'd become the enemy?

I squeezed my eyes shut. Should I pull the trigger? Be strong, Max! That's what the Apollo Cuffs are supposed to remind you to do! I felt the recoil from that fateful bullet.

When I opened my eyes, I saw her fall into a heap on the ground, before the rest of the zombies trudged over and around her, unfeeling, unknowing. And that's how I killed her. Shot her through her heart. What happened next was a blur for me. I remember holding down the trigger on my BAR. Even at slow auto, I emptied a mag in over 10 seconds. I remembered reloading and shooting again and again and again.

I remembered someone pulling at my sleeve. It seemed like a silent movie, because I couldn't hear her, but I could make out that Audrey was telling me to fall back. I ran with her. I ran away from it all. The mayhem, the blood, the dead citizens of Ursamin.

***

Ursamin was a lost cause, and later that evening, we were ordered to fall back to consolidate a defensive line along the east border. As we loaded up onto the 3 tonners, Audrey came running up to the rear gate with a pair of metallic cuffs in her hands. "Max! You forgot your Apollo Cuffs!"
"No, I didn't. They don't belong to me, so I'm leaving them in Ursamin."
Audrey looked quizzically at me. She carefully placed the cuffs on the ground, then allowed me to pull her up into the 3 tonner.

I didn't need the cuffs to be strong. I didn't need the cuffs to remember her. She lives on in my heart.

Monday, November 19, 2007

Un Agony

Dear Aunt Agony

Hello again. Now I'm confused. Yesterday, I was on the bus with my parents. Halfway through the journey, they asked if I'd noticed that the person who just got off had been "checking me out".
Now this should be a cause of concern, because it's bad enough if they suggest a girl was checking me out. But the person who'd just got off was a gay. A broad-shouldered, wide-jawed, spaghetti-strap wearing specimen.
Why is it I can draw the attention of gays, but not girls? Aunt Agony, what's wrong with me?

Single, but not desperate


Dear Desperate

Now you've irked my interest. The next time you write in, would you mind sending in a picture of yourself?
Frankly though, what's wrong with people looking at you while you're on the bus? I'm sure Gurmit Singh faces the same fate. In fact, I think he has it worse: imagine both guys and gays, old ah-mahs and smelly school kids will watch him in the bus, if they ever caught the same bus as he did.
Just be glad they don't ask you where your yellow boots and mole is.

Aunt Agony

Friday, November 09, 2007

Un Agony

Dear Aunt Agony

I think my father's worried about me. I'm 23 years old this year and I've been single all my life. At first I thought that it was my fault that I'm single. Perhaps I'm disgusting or that I'm not charming enough or that I'm being too picky. But I've reached an age when I know it's not my fault that I'm still single.
I have a wide circle of friends, both male and female. I'm not some social outcast. While I have many female friends, it just so happens that I have never found a girl who provides that -oomph- to differentiate a friend from something more.
However, my dad now thinks that everytime I go out with a girl, it must constitute a date. I think he's just chiding me to hasten my search, but it's a silly way to do so. What do you think, Aunt Agony?

Single, but not Desperate


Dear Desperate

(Is your first name Single or is it Desperate?)
It seems to me that you already have the answers to your own questions. What was your question anyway?
If it's the issue that you're worried that you're still single, then you're right in saying that you're not a freak. If you have a wide circle of friends (a circle of 3 friends is by no means wide), and you have not met anyone who has had that -oomph-, then fret not. Someone will come along to do that soon. Or you could live a single life, which I hear is pretty fun too. Yours truly didn't find true love till he was nearing forty and found a Vietnam bride.
As to your point that your dad keeps making fun of you, let yours truly relate his personal experience. Every time the stork delivers the baby to new parents, he brings with him a parenting handbook. It covers everything from teething babies and curing colic to telling your child to become a lawyer/doctor/accountant.
Just like your first tooth, your first word and your first step, your first girlfriend is a major milestone in your parents' eyes. It proves that the child they brought up is not enough a freak that he is unable to find a girlfriend. Also, it completes the circle of life that they started a long time ago. First a girlfriend, then marriage, then a kid... who will then grow up and find his/her own girlfriend/boyfriend.
Your dad will be as excited as you are about your first girlfriend (whenever that maybe). However, till that happens, just grin and bear it. Take heart that you have a dad who cares enough about you to nosey around your love life.

Aunt Agony

Wednesday, November 07, 2007

The Ipod Generation

We are the Ipod generation. Just like how the Sony advertisment hilariously showed an audiophile trying to figure out how to work around his addiction to sound, portable music is a large part of our lives.

I'm a member of such a generation. I insist on getting large capacity memory cards for my mobile phones so that I can have music on the go. There's nothing like a good, energetic song like "Outsiders" by Franz Ferdinand to perk you up in the morning. One thing I can't help doing when I listen is how I like to bob my head to the music, or sing along silently.

This morning, while I was on the bus, I spotted a middle-aged man in business attire plugged into his Ipod. However, instead of acknowledging a fellow member of the Ipod generation, I was thinking how weird bobbing one's head to the music looked. His semi-bald pate made the look even more comical; his fingers tapped the Ipod, supposedly in beat to the music.

It's strange. If we love our music, there shouldn't be any reason why we shouldn't let the music move our bodies. But spot just one person doing that and we all think he looks weird. Perhaps that's how we Singaporeans were brought up to be. Sitting still in our buses, sitting still in our cubicles, the picture of ultimate efficiency: any other action that does not add value to our work is a waste of our energies.

Am I looking at it wrong? Does anyone out there think that it's fine that people plugged in to their music players behaved like they're possessed? Is everyone really expected to sit still, the picture of a highly-efficient, yet seemingly apathetic population?
Once more, the reason I keep posting is to raise the questions, not provide the answers. -Jimmy

Friday, November 02, 2007

Thought Experiments

When we had the Kroo party at YC's place over the weekend, YC passed a book on thought experiments for me to entertain myself. It was a book that presents 100 thought experiments that also come with the author's own arguments.

The Pig who wants to be EatenIf a pig were able to tell you that he will willingly die for your gastronomic enjoyment, is it still right to kill and eat him? If a chicken were genetically engineered to have no mind, such that it grows pretty much like a vegetable, can you still be considered a vegetarian if you eat its meat?

Teleportation = Murder?In teleportation, the transporter device scans every single cell in your body, destroys them and transmits the data to another transporter device. The 2nd device will then recreate your cells based on the data it receives. Does that mean that you've effectively killed yourself and have replaced yourself with a clone somewhere else?

Which is the real Bismarck?When the German battleship Bismarck limped into the dry dock, the German engineers began planning a way to nurse the legendary ship back into its prime. As repairs progressed, however, they realised that many of the ship's original components were either outdated or beyond repair. Part by part, the Bismarck was replaced with new components fresh off the factory lines, products that showcase the Third Reich's technological whizbangs. The new and improved Bismarck now waited in the dry dock for its next mission. However, the engineers felt some sentimental value for all the old components that were taken out of the ship. So the pooled together the old components and used them to build a totally new ship. So which is the real Bismarck? The ship almost totally made up of new components, or the one that was made up of the old components?

Thought experiments are really fun cos stripped of all the "real-world inconveniences" that make such a situation impractable, they are exercises in logic and allow one to hone their judgements relating to certain topics.

Unfortunately though, the real-world is a lot more complex than the simplistic "two-option" models provided in the book. For example, my BeePee prof provided the example of the decision tree analysis. In a traffic accident, where you are the injured party, the insurance company of the other party will offer a one-time settlement fee. However, you can also choose to bring the matter to court, with a 90% chance of getting a much larger claim. Should the court proceedings fail, however, you still have to foot the lawyers' fees, thus incurring a loss.

The expected value of taking the matter to court is much higher than the out-of-court settlement. Thus, it is more logical to bring the matter to court. However, most normal people choose a guaranteed payout as opposed to a small chance of losing more money. Doesn't that defy logic? Does that make humans irrational?

Just like the time when I had to choose how to handle the cable-ski section in SMUGS, while there were only 2 options, I also had a choice how much work the Wakeboarders should put into developing the activity. When I discussed the formation of skating as a team, I had to consider the potential benefits that the team stands to gain versus a system that wasn't broken.
In the long run, the value derived from your decisions falls far below the expected value in a decision tree analysis. But life goes on, time introduces amnesia into people. Mulling over a decision for far too long might end up giving you a much lower payoff as you'll end up with more regrets. -Jimmy