by T I WADE
“Why would I think of America?” asked Lee, stopping and looking at the good-looking man in front of him who looked at least 40 years old. “I am happy where I am. I have a wonderful job, I have a wonderful family, and I do not think about anything else.”
“You love Elvis Presley,” the man replied, staring straight into his eyes, and Lee looked back at him in shock.
“Yes… well, yes… I mean I do… so that’s allowed. How do you know that?” he demanded.
“There is much I know about you, Lee Wang. I spent a few weeks working with your wife in the laundry, and several days cleaning floors in your child’s day care,” stated the older man with little emotion. “We do our background work well on potential employees who we think might be beneficial for our company. If you are interested, I can offer you a move to a different department within this company with an increase in pay, better working conditions, an opportunity for foreign travel, and who knows… you could even visit Elvis Presley’s house in America.”
“But why do you offer me a job looking like an old floor cleaner and not like an owner of the company?” asked Lee, still trying to understand how this man knew more about himself than he cared to think about. “Why have you spied on my wife and child? Why not just ask me like any normal Chinese employer would do?”
“I am in training just like you will be if you join our company,” the older man replied. “We are taught many jobs so that we can always survive in a capitalistic country like America. Lee Wang, I ask you to speak to nobody about our friendly conversation. It was simply two Chinese men talking about horse-race betting. If you do, I will hear about it and you will be fired from this company immediately. Do you understand?” the janitor continued smiling at the younger man. “Meet me back here tomorrow at 5 o’clock with an answer to my offer. I clean this hallway at the same time every day.” With that, he turned his back and continued to mop the already gleaming floor.
Lee Wang was speechless and continued back to the lab as if he had just been part of a dream. Of course he wanted to live in America! They had bigger space telescopes over there, and people said that you could shake Elvis Presley’s hand the Western way if you ever met him on the street. Lee Wang was so deep in thought that he bumped into one of his colleagues as they came out of the laboratory. He apologized, bowed, and walked back to his station.
For the rest of his shift that night, he could not stop thinking about what this floor cleaner, of all people, had told him. Naturally, he was scared that maybe the secret police had been spying on him and his family, but he had done nothing wrong except that he loved Elvis Presley songs. That wasn’t against the law. He even had three old 45 rpm gramophone records he had purchased in a market several years earlier that he often played on his old gramophone. Even his wife enjoyed them, and his little girl’s face always lit up when Elvis sang “All Shook Up.”
His wife got back from work later than he, so his job was to pick up his daughter from day care on his bicycle and have some dinner boiling on the stove before Lin got home. He was still puzzled about his chance meeting at work, and even though he drank rarely, he could not stop from opening an old bottle of shaojiu and pouring half the bottle in a warmer on the already lit stove. He was about to pour himself a bit of the warming brew into a small glass when he heard his wife’s key in the front door of the apartment.
Lin kissed him on the cheek, immediately smelled the shaojiu on the stove, and gave him a funny look. She then went over to their small lounge and picked up their little girl laying upright on a pillow on the two-seater couch, and gave Ling a big hug.
Ling’s face lit up when she saw her mother, and baby gurgles escaped from her mouth. Then, with baby Ling in the crook of her arm, Lin returned to her husband who was still by the stove waiting to pour a stiff drink for himself. He took a second glass out of the cupboard, poured his and hers to the brim, looked at her again and drank the glass in one gulp. It didn’t take Lin long to follow suit. She knew that this drinking was very unusual for him, and she patiently waited until after dinner to hear what he had to say to her.
Once the little girl was fast asleep and the dishes were done, they sat together, had another stiff drink and Lee told Lin what had happened at work earlier that afternoon.
“And he was the floor cleaner?” she asked Lee, deep in thought. “And he said he went to Ling’s school also?” Lee nodded. “I remember an old man ironing shirts—an older man about 40 or 45. I saw him around once or twice and felt that he was watching me. In a laundry, the boss is always watching everyone and this man was ironing shirts, not cleaning the floor. He didn’t stay long. He seemed kindly so I smiled at him a few times.”
“It must be the same man,” suggested Lee. “Was he a good-looking man?” Lin nodded.
“He is offering you a better job? A floor cleaner?” she asked, still trying to understand the logic of this person ironing shirts one week and cleaning floors the next. By this time the shaojiu had loosened her up and she cracked a joke. “Maybe he was the floor boss!” Lee laughed but then got serious again.
“Maybe he is secret police or something. Maybe they have made Elvis Presley illegal and I didn’t hear about the new law. Maybe I should hide my records.”
“Maybe you should hear him out and see what job they are offering you,” Lin responded. “It must be a good, well-paying job if they even have to spy on little Ling to see if you are a good child bearer!” She laughed at her own joke and decided that a third drink was in order.
They went to bed that night and both somehow knew that a new destiny had entered their lives, and in China that didn’t happen to too many people very often. They made passionate love, the hot and lusty alcohol in their veins helping them along, and fell asleep in each other’s arms.
At five o’clock the next afternoon, Lee excused himself from his computer to head to the men’s room and passed the floor sweeper on the way.
“My wife says that you iron shirts very well and she noticed that you hadn’t ironed shirts for too many years,” Lee stated as he stopped in front of the man who had his mop in hand.
“Tell your wife that she is correct. And if you notice, I am not a very experienced floor sweeper, either. I talk far too much to strangers walking by,” he smiled back.
“We discussed your offer and my wife and I have a few questions we would like answered before I give my answer,” Lee continued.
“Well, let’s go and have a tea in the cafeteria, and I will be glad to answer them. I know you are fond of green tea,” suggested the floor sweeper. He placed the mop back into the bucket, moved it closer to the wall where nobody would fall over it, took off the floor sweeper’s long grey jacket, and placed it neatly folded on top of the bucket. Underneath the jacket that had covered his clothing he wore a well-made bluish-colored suit and a beautiful Western-looking gold tie that had small green dragons with small blue stones as eyes. Lee had never seen such beautiful coloring. “Do you know that you passed me for three days in a row and you never saw me?”
“I don’t believe a floor sweeper is supposed to be seen by other workers all the time. I’m sure that normal floor sweepers will not see me when I pass them by. They would only have interest in their clean floors, no?”
“Well said, young man,” was the response. “People only see what they want to see.” They entered the cafeteria and several managerial-looking officials bowed to the floor sweeper, and their bows were long and deep. “See the illusion,” he explained to Lee, acknowledging the bows. “That grey jacket would have made me totally invisible to them if I had walked in with it on.”
For two hours, the man who never introduced himself told Lee what he wanted to hear. The family would stay united. Yes, they would always travel together. No, his pay raise would not cover his wife becoming a full-time mother, but she could work part-time and give her more time with her daughter. Yes, they would move out of their apartment and into a bigger and newer one on the other side of the river only 20 miles
away on Chongming Island. Here, his wife Lin could work part-time in a laundry so that she didn’t lose the gift of her experience. Yes, Lee would be expected to travel abroad with his family to a new country. The details would be decided later. Yes, he could continue his hobby of astronomy and yes, he could keep his Elvis Presley records.
Then the man needed some questions answered. First, how good was Lee in English? He could read it well and could say several sentences, but he knew all the words from Elvis Presley songs and knew most of the universe and space names in both languages. Lin could only speak a little English, but was a fast learner. How was Lee’s knowledge of other countries? Quite good in geography and history, but bad in current affairs, was the answer. This made the older man laugh because this was normal in China; foreign news was a no-no for most Chinese citizens. How up-to-date was he with satellite electronics and modern Western guidance systems? As up-to-date as most scientists and engineers were allowed to be in China, he answered.
“I need to pick up my daughter,” stated Lee, suddenly looking at the cafeteria clock and remembering the time. “My wife works late and I must pick her up from daycare every day.”
“That has already been done,” returned the older man. “Your wife was given time off this afternoon and was asked to pick up your daughter because you would be later than usual. Her boss is a friend of mine.” Suddenly, Lee got worried.
“Am I going to be a spy or something?” Lee asked carefully. “You promised that we would not be in any danger if I took this position.” The older man smiled.
“No, you will not be doing anything dangerous,” he replied.
“You will be in a totally safe environment as long as you do your job in the way you are taught in your training on Chongming Island.” “And who will I be working for?” was Lee’s final question.
“Zedong Electronics,” was the answer.
***
A month later, Lee sat with his wife in their Americanized apartment and opened a small bottle of Jack Daniels.
“A friend of mine I occasionally have a drink with in the bar, Bo Lee Tang, bought me a glass the other day. He loves the stuff and even showed me a tattoo of a bottle of this whiskey he has on his shoulder. Remember Lin, he is the boxer I won that money on a few weeks ago?” Lee Wang explained to his wife. “I bought a small bottle for us to try together.”
They both smelled the evil-smelling brown liquid for the first time and each drank a small amount. It was vile and horrible stuff! Then Lee opened a new bottle of shaojiu, warmed it on the stove, and relaxed with the familiar taste of home. They talked about what might be in their new life. The Wang family had been in their new apartment for two weeks.
The company had sent a truck and gave Lee and his wife a couple of hours to pack their things and leave their old habitat. They were then driven to the ferry, and for the first time for both of them, they watched from the departing ship as the skyline of Shanghai disappeared into the afternoon haze behind them. An hour later, Chongming Island appeared out of the haze off the ferry’s bow.
The island was natural and quiet after the city noises, and the same truck drove them over dirt roads for a couple of miles before entering a town they could not believe ever existed—it was like driving into an American magazine. The streets were exactly as they had seen in the occasional American movie or television show. Lee and Lin did not own a television, but with this street scene they didn’t need to. Three American-looking streets, with the first traffic lights they had ever seen. The truck stopped in front of what seemed like a courtyard with large double doors and hooted. Once the wooden doors were opened, the truck entered an apartment courtyard. What hit them first was that with five stories of apartments looking down at them, there was not one piece of washing hanging anywhere on the building. All Chinese apartment blocks were always draped with drying clothes during the day.
“What did you learn today?” asked Lin, sipping her little warm glass of shaojiu.
“The usual schedule of studies,” replied Lee. “First was an hour of American English, then an hour of American geography, and then we had 15 minutes for tea. After that, another hour of English and then we were divided into different groups and marched off to laboratories. I was with five other graduates who had studied the same subjects as I did at university; mostly aviation and space electronics. Remember my paper on electrical parts that can be designed to withstand heavy vehicle vibrations, hot engine temperatures, and all climate weather conditions?” Lin nodded. “We were given instructions to take apart a new form of engine-control system for a motor car. It had Japanese on it and the only word I could recognize was “Toyota.” It seems to be a new and secret type of engine-management system, controlled by a new form of computer microchip and the electronics controlled the complete workings of every part of the engine every millisecond. It was really fascinating to see the new electronics actually controlling the engine. We didn’t study much of this at university, but we did do a crash study on the workings of a combustion engine for Western motor vehicles.”
“What do motor car engines have to do with space travel?” Lin asked.
“Nothing,” Lee stated. “But it wasn’t the workings of the engine control system we were supposed to learn about. We were asked to totally dissect the computer and write down a list of small electrical parts that we could manufacture here in China. In other words, we were told to find the small, important working parts of the electrical brain and write them down so that I think somebody can copy them and make them here at Zedong Electronics.”
Lin said nothing.
“That took up the rest of the day and we had the complete gadget broken down in six hours. It is very well-made and I don’t know much about car engines but I did learn a lot about how to manage a system using computerized pulses and how a small part of the whole machine—a part the size of the top of a pin—could terminate the workings of the whole unit and make it dormant until that little piece is replaced. I found three simple parts and I wrote them down. Enough about my day, how did your day go?” he asked.
“This laundry system is so modern compared to what I was used to,” Lin began. “Everything, as you said, seems to run with some sort of engine. The clothes are washed, pressed, and then hung on a long washing line made of steel. It drives around the shop like a never-ending train. It also has a computer of some sort, and I had my first chance to control it today. There is a computer screen with all the letters and numbers of each piece of clothing, as well as the name of the owner and a code. When the pressed items are put on hangars and placed on the line, the information is entered into the computer on the work side. On the counter service side, another person can enter the person’s name and code on the invoice, and the line will automatically move to bring that person’s order to the counter where the counter person can pack it into plastic bags. It is so modern compared to what we used at the laundry in Shanghai.”
“I think America must be a world of computers and motor engines, and the horse and bicycle must be totally obsolete,” added Lee. “I think we made the right decision in coming here.” Lee paused for a moment to reflect. “I have not seen the old man since we moved here, but the others say that they were all approached in the same way by different men and women. I also heard that we will be learning the old man’s ways of being invisible some day before we leave here.”
For the next three months, Lee Wang dissected hundreds of different parts of electronics from all over the world. Many he could not read much about, because they were stamped in languages he didn’t understand, but chips, wires, fuses, lights and pulses were part of his language and he didn’t need to know where it came from.
One day, however, he got a shock. There on the table in the lab was the same Toyota engine-control system he had seen months earlier. Again he was ordered to take every little piece apart and give a report on what he found. It was the exact same system, and it wasn’t difficult to complete his task. The shock he got was that three of
the most important electrical-micro control fuses he had listed on the piece of paper months earlier now had “Made in China” stamped on them. The parts were well-made and just as good, or even of a better quality of workmanship, than the original parts. The report then ordered him to open a small bag in the box and replace the parts with extras that he found in there. It surprised him that each extra part had been carefully recorded on a sheet inside the bag, except that somebody had made a slight mistake. There were three small replacement fuses and only two were recorded. His engineering curiosity got the better of him and he slipped the extra fuse into his trouser pocket underneath his white coat. All the tests were done on the control system, and the Chinese parts worked as well as the original Japanese parts had.
At the end of the day, as usual, security police came around and checked each part against the recorded parts, and checked to see that the computer systems were working and complete before they were collected and only then were the employees allowed to leave for the day.
Lee had noticed on his first day that they were being closely watched by a security camera placed in each laboratory, and he had hidden the fuse carefully, away from the only camera in the room. A week went by before he had free time in one of the labs, when the parts had not yet arrived and they were asked to study a new computer chip from a company called ‘Intel.’ He had studied this chip before and there was nothing more he could add to the information already given to the controllers. He searched carefully in the lining of his white coat and found the fuse he had placed there. Everyone else was busy sitting and bending over working, so he didn’t look out of place. With a microscope viewer on his right eye, much like a jeweler looking at a valuable stone, he slowly tried to open the micro-fuse to see what was inside.
It took him a few minutes, but slowly the microscopic inner workings of the simple fuse opened up on the glass slide in front of him. The whole fuse was about the width of a piece of lead found in a pencil, and nobody close to him could have seen what he was doing. Everything was there as he had known it would be, except a small, black carbon-looking dot the size of a pin head. It was stuck to the most vulnerable part of the fuse, and what was weird was that it had a minute antenna sticking out of one side. He turned his microscope up to maximum and looked at the black dot on his slide.
