People love asking questions. Can you make a question a statement? That’s a fine question.
The Turnkey people find it amusing and perhaps vaguely interesting when I tell them the first question a Chinese persona asks you.
“Have you eaten yet?”
“Why do they ask this,” wondered a mechanical engineer.
“Millions of Chinese starved during various dynasties. Many perished for lack of food during Chairman Mao’s attempts to industrialize the country. He said, 'Let them eat grass,' so they ate grass.”
It’s an old song and dance, this question, this opening move in life’s chess game of experiences people get to play.
Most people here only know about China through the media. Discovery this, discovery that.
One thing Turnkey and Chinaware share is a poor, shall we say, inadequate education system. People here in the Kingdom of thirteen civilizations are not afraid to say it. They say it straight.
“Our education system is poor.”
“Can you explain?” asked a visitor from somewhere else, from out near the eastern border where nomads grazed nocturnal beasts under a full moon inside a lunar eclipse.
The moon is red because the sky is blue.
“I can try. To begin with, it’s top heavy. Too many adminstratlords grazing their flocks of paper. They love paper. Perhaps it’s the same in Chinaware.”
“Most definitely. Writing and paper was invented in my country. Ink and brush and paper; thin, strong yet pliable silk. Have you ever tried writing on silk? It’s amazing because the ink blends in and soaks through. If your turn it over you can read characters backwards. Did you know, perhaps it’s the same story with some minor modifications, how in Chinaware every single citizen has a file?”
“Really, a file?”
“Yes, a file containing every single bit of data, every fragment of their life from birth to the present day or Now. Files on every single solitary family member; their place and residence of birth; location of their hovel complete with straw mattress bedding, iron wok, dilapidated radio, rusty bedpan which is carried outside every morning and dumped in the hutong community sewer where it attracts flies; their school records (if they are lucky enough to attend school which is usually the case in the cities, but not the extreme interior or far western lands where children work in fields and never see a classroom); their WORK unit factory, area schools and local hospitals.
“You see,” they continued, “the state government has always needed to control it’s citizens for various reasons like fear, power and propaganda and so, hundreds and thousands of years ago, a powerful solitary eunuch in the Forbidden City came up with this idea about registering every citizen.
“They ran it past the Emperor’s advisors who chopped a piece of paper with their official seal to indicate approval. It was a blood red chop engraved with a character indicating their name and position. The chopped document passed through the channels until it reached Mr. BIG.
“Wow, I imagine some have very large files.”
“You better believe it. In fact I met a Chinese teacher at a private business university and asked her about the possibility of her finding another teaching job.”
“You must be joking!” she exclaimed, or explained with pain inside her heart.
“My heart is heavy,” she sighed. “They require or force us to sign a five-year contract. Then after one year, they give us another five-year contract to sign.”
“What happens if you decide not to sign another contract and tell them you are happy to finish the original one?”
“Are you kidding me? They will make my life miserable for the next four years. They will tighten the screws. The old man behind the big brown desk will solemnly nod and say, ‘You’d better think this over very carefully.’”
“In other words, when you open your mouth and express your personal desire he will issue you a subtle threat, a warning?”
“Of course he will. He realizes I am capable of changing my mind, of making a decision, a free choice. ‘Unheard of! he will think. This one is dangerous. She can poison others with her radical counter-revolutionary ideas. She is a threat to social order and a harmonious society.’”
“It sounds like a bad dream.”
“More like a recurring nightmare,” she said, “if you want to know the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help me Mao.”
“How now Mao?”
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