Peter Liu - Bald New World

“Who am I?”

“A sinner. You were born into a life of sin. You were tainted by a life of sin. You perpetuated your life of sin.”

“My marriage with Linda had nothing to do with my past.”

Mardi appeared irritated that I’d given him an answer he wasn’t satisfied with. “Your whole life was predetermined by your past. Accept that first. Tell me more about them. Then we can work through it together.”

I answered, “I have nothing to tell.”

“You have nothing to tell?”

“Nothing.”

“There is a trial for those who claim to have nothing to say.”

“What is it?”

“If you are still of the same mind at the end of the week, then I will explain it to you. For now, listen to this.” He turned on the religious hymns of an audio player and left. The music constantly shifted timbres and any time I was about to fall asleep, the shift in tone caused me to wake. They were singing in Latin or Hebrew — I wasn’t sure. I pissed and relieved myself on my leg again. My stomach was growling for food. I felt dizzy. Part of the shadow moved and asked, “Why do people’s nails grow?”

“What?”

“There are millions of cameras in the world but none have captured definitive proof of either a ghost or an alien.”

“So what?”

“Why assume there is only one type of light that can reveal all the digital layers of reality?”

“What other light is there?”

“Earth has a hundred suns, but you only see the dimmest bulb that requires the most energy to burn.”

“Can you leave me alone so I can sleep?” I asked.

“You’ve been asleep your whole life, waiting for this moment.”

“What moment?”

The shadow orbited around me. “When you become one with your shit.”

Don’t break down so easily, Nick. You’ve been prepared for this kind of thing. Resist the chemicals in your mind. There is no voice speaking to you. It’s yourself .

Suddenly, the lights came back on.

It was Mardi. “You can’t even control your bowels anymore!” he yelled. “It smells terrible in here. If you act like an animal, you force me to treat you like an animal!” Mardi whipped me twice across the legs. “Dogs have better sense than you! At least they’ve been potty-trained.”

“W-where else am I supposed to go?”

“Did I say you could speak?!” he yelled and gripped me by the neck, his fingers pressing against my esophagus. His rubbery gloves grated against my skin and my breath became constricted. He let go and shook his head. “It’s disgusting touching you.”

There was a pungent smell that reminded me of chicken. A maid brought in a plate of food. My stomach cried out and my mouth started to salivate. Mardi lifted up the dish and took a bite. I pressed against the rope and tried to struggle free. My only commandment was to eat.

Mardi handed the plate back to the maid. “I’m not hungry. Take it out of here.” I stared at the food. He saw my gaze. “Wait.” He grabbed the piece of meat and as he was coming to me, he threw it on the ground in my waste. He lifted it back up, herbal sauce mixed in with crap. “Do you still want it?”

“This is how the religious treat their prisoners?”

“This is how we treat unrepentant sinners.”

“I’m repentant.”

“Of what?” he asked.

“Of immorality and perversion.”

“Because of your family?”

“My past has nothing to do with who I am now.”

He took the chicken and rubbed it in my face, smearing it all over my nose and cheeks.

“You think shit can be wiped off so easily?” he asked.

“With a strong enough hose,” I answered.

“Spray him!” he commanded.

The hose came at me full burst again, knocking me against the wall. This time, I couldn’t see who it was that directed the water and wondered how many people there were in the room beyond the candlelight.

“Did you ever go to church?” he asked after the water stopped.

“When I was young.”

“Why did you stop?”

“I got bored with the sermons.”

“I can’t blame you there. God bless all pastors, but some are extremely tedious.”

I could sense another speech coming. My mind drifted. Most times, I went to church to chase after pretty girls. But I got real tired of people using religion to suit their agendas. God became a mental genie that could be called upon to justify anything. It was a shame because I always thought religion was a beautiful thing with some of the most moral and wonderful stories ever told. The idea that the poor and the weak were more powerful than the rich and strong was so riveting for me — a reevaluation of morality. In many ways, the fundamental concept of the American Dream would not have been possible without the idea of salvation for anyone who sought it. Having come thousands of years ago, it was a radically liberating idea that still resonated with billions of people and I knew how poor a substitute science was for hope and spirituality. It couldn’t help being misused. Religious protesters used to rally against Larry’s film and people would tell me in a pitying tone, “I’m praying for your soul so you don’t suffer in Hell.” None of them ever protested vices like greed, violence, and child abuse. But show a few naked teats on screen or a woman with tattoos over her scalp, and nothing less than the end of morality was at stake. If we were to make another film—

And then it came back to me. I was never going to get to make another film with Larry again. I couldn’t believe it. How could Larry be dead?

“—can’t remember how to speak anymore?” Mardi asked.

Was he asking me a question?

“To show we are merciful, to show we are just, I will allow you to take the trial.”

“What trial?”

And then the lights went out again. Or were they back on? I saw Mardi. He was holding curry soup. I loved curry. How did he know I loved curry? Whenever Linda cooked curry, our apartment would smell for days. Same when I cooked kimchee soup. Her favorite were dumplings. One Chinese New Year, her mom cooked us so many dumplings, I stopped eating them for almost a year. I craved those little jiaozis . Even one bite now, and I would have traded away my birthright.

Ropes slithered around my wrists and hissed at me.

Lights out again. Where did Mardi go? He was asking me a question about stealing. Or was it lust?

I lusted all the time. But after the divorce, I refused to go near any other woman. It’d been so long since I’d even kissed a girl.

Did a part of me wish Linda might come back?

I knew that was impossible. She’d already gotten remarried. I didn’t know to whom, but I hoped he could take care of her better than I did. After being discharged from the army, I got involved in a scam where a real-estate agent promised special veteran rates for a mortgage. It was an adjustable loan that would jump from 1 % to 19 % after two years. “Not to worry,” the old Korean businessman with slick hair told me. “The price of the house will go up so you can refinance your loan.” He took me out to dinner several times, told me I was a brave soldier fighting for their rights. I lapped it up and bought an apartment I couldn’t afford just like everyone else getting in on the housing frenzy.

Only prices plummeted after the bubble collapsed and my credit was ruined while my savings evaporated when the banks sent debt collectors after me.

We were always on the move because the owners would kick us out for whatever reasons. “I can pay for an apartment,” she offered. “It’s not a big deal and at least we won’t have to keep on moving every few months.”

I couldn’t accept her money. Shouldn’t I be the one providing for her?