Loving Riley

I don’t know how long I have been standing outside. It’s one of those nights in October where your breath is visible for the first time in eight months. Despite having an adequate coat, I can’t stand it. Fall is too cold. To be fair, there’s never a time when I enjoy being outside.

I tap on the glass door a few times. I look at Kelly intently. She’s on the couch watching TV, pretending to be oblivious.  

Kelly and I had a bad falling out. We used to be close. Real close. But somewhere along the line, things became sour. It has been hard, but we have adjusted and settled our differences. In the back of mind, though, I always wish for things to return to normal.

Eventually, she comes and opens the door. I waste no time and make my way with back to the kitchen. We’re making chicken tonight. I can smell the juices. It's one of the many aromas that makes me salivate uncontrollably. Makes me really lick my chops. I’m basically dragging my tongue along the linoleum.

“Let's see how the chicken's doing," Jim says as he cracks the oven door slightly. "Eh, it needs another 5 minutes or so.”

I don’t argue. I can wait. I step out of his way as he goes back to his bedroom. I'm still trying to pick my tongue off the floor.

I wander aimlessly around the kitchen, biding my time. The floor never tasted so good. Mm, linoleum.

I take a drink of water. It should hold me over for a while.

I make my way over to Kelly. Our eyes meet briefly, but she quickly goes back to staring at the tube. I sit down by her anyway, hoping to get some reaction out of her. Anything. Minutes pass. I give her a long look that begs comfort. Begs her to show compassion. She puts her arm around me, feeling my hair. I'm satisfied. I feel a warmth with her that I haven’t felt in ages.

I give a big sigh of relief. It reverberates through my whole being, longing to feel her skin against mine again. Perhaps tonight we’ll go back to the way it used to be. The way we once were.

Jim comes back, prompting me to meander back over to the kitchen. He takes the sizzling delicacy out of the oven. It’s perfection. It’s crispy, golden skin shimmers in the luminescence. My tongue drops to the floor again.

Long after dinner, Kelly and I exchange a glance again on the couch. We’re watching her favorite show. But this time, she looks at me for a long while. Her eyes shimmer from the TV’s blue, radiating light. She turns off the TV. My heart begins to pound in my chest.

I follow her in the hallway, towards the bedroom. A room that I haven’t slept in for a few days. There's a coldness between the sheets, you might say. Most would consider our relationship done at this point. A fruitless endeavor. But there's always that flicker of hope -- that something might still be there. I err on the side of caution as we enter the room. I cannot open myself up for more heartache, more disappointment.

My doubts are all but whisked away when she closes the door. She takes me by the chest and brings me to the bed. She strokes my soft hair and gently caresses my body. Shivers run up and down my spine. My legs gyrate and squirm. She slips off her pants and shirt, pulling the bed sheets over us. She turns off the bedside lamp and we feel other’s naked flesh. She strokes me as we fall asleep in each other’s arms.

We awake in the late morning. Kelly leads me out of the bedroom, eyes squinting, still half asleep. We go to the back door where Jim is raking the leaves. Kelly opens the door.

“Oh, good morning, Kelly,” Jim says. “Sleep with Riley last night?”

“Yeah. God he snores so loud,” she says as she shoos me outside with her foot.

I happily urinate on the lawn.

Dokdo Essay

The rules were that it had to be about 800 words and address the theme: "The meaning of Dokdo for Koreans." First place prize was 1.5 million KRW, so it was definitely worth a shot. I haven't heard back, so I assume I wasn't even selected for the top 12 (they did up to 6th place, and 6 honorable mentions). Slightly disappointed, but it was nonetheless a good exercise and reminded me that I still enjoy writing. For what it's worth, I don't really have a side in this debate. Most Koreans that I've talked to answer "KOREA!" because, well, they're Korean. If I had to choose, I suppose I would choose Korea. The evidence seems legitimate enough and Japan did trample on them for 35 years. So here it is in all its Korean pandering glory!

Dokdo: The Soul of Korean Sovereignty

To this day, Korea remains divisive over certain issues from its past with Japan. Chief among these issues is the rule over Dokdo Island. Indeed, this dispute has been on-going for well over a century – since the Japan-Korea Treaty of 1905 – when Japan attempted to recognize the island as its own territory. This exposition will highlight historical evidence and provide a clear view of what sovereignty over the island truly means to the Korean people as a whole.

Dokdo, also known as Takeshima to Japan and Liancourt Rocks in the West

Japan incorporated Dokdo as a part of the country around the end of the Russo-Japanese war in 1905. They claim there was reasonable doubt whether Korea had completely retained its sovereignty of the island. Years later after World War II, the 1952 San Francisco Peace Treaty purposefully left out the sovereignty of Dokdo due to its contentiousness. A bombing incident in September of 1952 started a series of scuffles between Japan and South Korea until the Basic Relations Treaty was signed in 1965 between to the two nations. Since then, both countries have repeatedly declared the island, creating a stalemate with no end in sight. The method of how a power claims sovereignty over another entity is an age-old problem not unique to Dokdo. Many countries fight over similar situations. The problem is that hundreds of years ago, when much of the Earth was still being discovered, there wasn’t an international consensus on how to claim sovereignty over an uninhabited body of land or water. Naturally, it was a practice of who was there first.

Korea first claimed Dokdo Island, according to Korean historical records, back in 512 A.D. Governor Kim Isabu (Taejong) set out during his seventh year as governor and subjugated Usanguk, which is both Ulleungdo and Usando (i.e., Dokdo), as part of the Korean Silla Kingdom. Immediately following was the publication of the event in the government records Samguk Sagi (512). There were subsequent government records that mentioned Korea’s sovereignty over the island, namely Sejong Sillok Jiriji (1454) and Sinjeung Dongguk Yeoji Seungnam (1531). Unsurprisingly, Japan refuses to accept these records as proof of sovereignty. Japanese proponents claim that Korean historical records are not verifiable.

But even if Korean history is disregarded for the sake of argument, far greater points of uncertainty and contradiction appear when looked through the lens of the Japanese.  The “Records on Observation in Oki Province” from the 17^th century state that the Oki Islands mark Japan’s northwestern border, and Dokdo has never been within that border on any map (even from the Japanese). This is perhaps Japan’s earliest concession, albeit indirect, to the ownership of Dokdo. In “The Revised Complete Map of Japanese Lands and Roads” of 1848, both Ulleungdo and Dokdo are outside the respected territorial (maritime) boundaries. There’s several other maps from the Japanese Edo and Meji era that continue to confirm Korean ownership of Dokdo. “The Great Map of Japan” published by Mori Kenseki in 1877 shows Dokdo and Ulleungdo colored the same as Gangwan Province and contains appended maps which precisely label each of Japan’s minor islands along its perimeter – Dokdo was not one of them. Ironically and perhaps the biggest blow to Japan's claim of ownership is their own contradictory statement given by the State Council (Dajokan) in which they openly deny Dokdo (and Ulleungdo) as Japanese territory altogether.

Indeed, even from the vantage point of Japan’s own historical records, it appears they have little grounds for claiming Dokdo. A closer reexamination of their intentions for claiming Dokdo appear to stem back to the conclusion of the Russo-Japanese War in 1905. Japan was not only invading and attempting to annex Korea in the early 20^th century, but Manchuria, and later mainland China as well. It seems clear that Japan was heavily driven by an imperialist greed for land and power. The fact that they’ve since apologized for their actions in the early half of the 20^th century yet remain adamant on disputing Dokdo is boggling.

            Korea lost over a generation of its history and people due to Japan’s unwarranted occupation of the country from 1910 to 1945. Korean suffering was myriad from Japanese rule: over half of all arable land was stolen and taxed exorbitantly; palaces, relics, and artifacts were seized or destroyed; families were separated, names changed; Korean women were forced into prostitution; 670,000 Koreans were deported and forced into labor in Japan; and ultimately Korea was divided into North and South after World War II. It is Japan, and Japan alone, who is wholly responsibility for these hardships. Thus, it seems logical from an intermediary perspective to be charitable to Korea. Dokdo is not merely an island, but a symbol of Korea’s liberation from Japan; it serves as a sign of condolence and respect to the plight their ancestors endured.

            For South Koreans today, concession of Dokdo would be a preposterous idea – and understandably so. There is too much to lose from a Korean standpoint. When looking carefully at historical evidence from both sides, it seems the scales indubitably tip in Korea’s favor. In the words of Thomas Hobbes, “the Sovereignty is an Artificial Soul, as giving life and motion to the whole body” (1651). The piece of sovereignty, that is Dokdo, is analogous to the soul that gives Korea’s body its life and motion. Japan has stripped Korea of its body and soul once, but they will not let it happen again. The debate of Dokdo needs to be put to rest on the correct side of history. Not just for Korea’s past, but for moving forward with its relationship with Japan into a brighter future.

A White and Black World

It was 3013. Everyone was smart and looked the same. Thanks to the U.S. Public Intelligence Integrity Council, it was against the law for people to have an IQ below 140. Only one educational institution remained: The Omniversity of America. The Omniversity was a public institution in the sense that the entire public attended; it was private in the sense that the government taxed all students and alumni heavily to pay for all tuition and maintenance costs of the institution. Nevertheless, learning – whether one wanted it or not – took place.

Binter Feron, dressed in an all white jumpsuit, approached his nearby Ominversity geodesic dome. It had many triangular windows. Depending on the position of the sun and the angle at which one looked at the dome, it looked either remarkably white or ominously black.

Binter entered and approached a white, ovoid, natural intelligence pod in the center. It was pulsating white on and off. As Binter walked towards the pod, its door quietly slid up. A gaunt, young man in a white jumpsuit, remarkably similar to him in height, complexion, and body shape, carefully ducked his head as he exited the pod. It was his best friend and dear podmate, Cazorp Enitex.

"How are you, Binter?" Cazorp asked concerned.

Binter looked down for a moment, like a child telling a white lie. "Fine, Cazorp. And yourself?"

"Everything seems fine," Cazorp said with a sigh at the end. "I heard there are unannounced, random screenings today," he paused, looked back at the glowing pod, then back at Binter, “but I wasn’t tested. Good luck, I’m sure things will be okay.”

Binter gave Cazorp half a smile and walked towards the entrance of the pod. The pores in his forehead opened up and small beads of sweat perspired and began to trickle down the side of his face. In the middle was a minimalist, white leather Barcalounger. On the right side of the chair was small, shiny, surgical tray. The pod continued pulsating white.

³³³

All Binter wanted to do was learn naturally. Why must the government get in the way of that? He proceeded into the glowing pod. He sat down tensely. The door behind him had already shut.

"Hello, Binter Feron 1A," the smooth, female voice began. "Has your mental state seemed optimal, recently?"

Binter’s head nodded, as if the voice was sentient and could see him. His voice fluttered with anxiety, "I… believe so, yes… quite optimal."

"Good. Today, there will be a screening to affirm your Alpha GPC, Huperzine A, Vinpocetine, Phosphatidylserine, Bacopa, L-Tyrosine, L-Theanine, and Vitamin B-6 are at the legal levels," said the robotic female voice perfectly arrhythmic. "As well, there will be an IQ test following your lesson on nuclear physics. Proceed?”

Binter thought it silly that the pod asked him to proceed, as if he had another option. "Proceed," Binter said after a long, heart-pounding pause. A white, hydrocarbon-framed monitor came up from the floor, with a live graph of his blood pressure, heart rate. There was also a line for each blood medication level: they read "testing."

His heart rate was a sky-high 142 – a shame it wasn’t his IQ. A robotic arm holding a hypodermic needle came out from behind the left side of the Barcalounger. Binter closed his eyes and breathed heavily, coming to terms with his inevitable fate.

Suddenly, there was a loud crash with dust, and falling pieces of the glowing, white hydrocarbon fiber. Cazorp jumped down into the pod, quickly pressed some buttons on the monitor, turning off the pod’s robotic arm off.

"What in the name of all black holes are you doing?" Binter said sitting in his Barcalounger in shock.

"Saving you from being caught a normalhead," Cazorp said out of breath.

An alarm started going off, making the pod pulsate red.

³³³

A “normalhead” was a person whose IQ was below 140. Anyone caught a normalhead was given a swift execution or life sentence in prison, whichever the government thought more fitting. Binter was not a genius, so by law he had to take medication just like everyone else. He felt life was much too drab though if there was no challenge to learning, so he chose the risky life of a normalhead. He cleverly had many vials of “legal” blood refrigerated at home for screenings. Tragically, since the screening was unannounced, he left his vials at home. Such is the risky life of a normalhead.

“We’re going to get caught, you know!” Binter shouted angrily, “Everything is recorded! We’re both going to be arrested or killed!” His own words turned him into a state of panic. “We have less than three minutes before security will be here,” he said with a lump in his throat.
            “Plenty of time for you to take this,” Cazorp flashed Binter a medication container in his jumpsuit’s right pocket.

“How did you know that I was being screened?”

“I listened behind the pod door,” Cazorp explained, "and I brought enough for myself just in case."
            Just then, Binter got an idea only his normal epistemic state of affairs could have allowed him to think of. He put out his hand and Cazorp handed him the pill bottle. Binter opened it and poured out all the pills on the surgical tray. He picked out the GPC pill and made a line with its powdery white inside. He removed an alcohol pad on the surgical tray from its paper wrapper, rolled it, put it up to his right nostril and quickly snorted the line. Cazorp looked in amazement and guffawed as Binter finished without so much as a slight cough. Binter sat up in the Barcalounger as if he was a newborn Frankenstein and began using the heart-rate monitor as a computer terminal. He pressed buttons and swiped boxes left and right on the monitor like a mad scientist.

“We should be escaping, Binter! We don’t have time!”

“That’s precisely the plan, my dear friend,” Binter responded calmly, still at work.

The dome and pod stopped pulsating red and switched to white again. Binter continued swiping and poking the screen as fast as his skinny white fingers could go.
            “There, that should do it.” Binter poked the screen one last time, as if it were an archaic enter key on a mechanical keyboard from last millenium. “Crisis averted.”

“Security mainframe disabled. Security database reformatted,” the pod’s female voice said soothingly.

“Okay, genius! Now can we get out of here?” Cazorp asked panicked.
“Yes, let’s go now – quickly.”
“I’ll boost you up through the hole in the roof –”

“IQ violator detected. Execution commencing,” the female voice chimed in once more.

Cazorp stood silent in front of Binter, looking sorrowfully into his eyes. “Farewell, Binter, my dear –” A look of agony spread across his face. A white, odorless gas quickly dispersed from the pod as quickly as it had filled it. He collapsed into Binter’s arms quietly.

It took a moment for Binter to realize what had just happened. He gently laid Cazorp down in the white Barcalounger as tears filled his eyes. Cazorp laid in the Barcalounger lifeless. The heart rate on the monitor showed a flat line.

“Sleep well, my dear normalhead companion.”

The white pulse of the pod filled Cazorp’s empty, black pupils – it turned on, then off, then on again.

SF Short Stories Coming Soon!

I think one reason I've become so lazy with blogging is because... well, writing about myself and my own opinions is pretty damn boring and uninteresting.

“We have to continually be jumping off cliffs
and developing our wings on the way down.”
― Kurt Vonnegut

I'm going to take a new approach in the coming weeks -- I'm going to have a lot of free time on my hands in January and February since I will not be working. For the first time ever I'm going to try dabbling in some (very) short stories that are in the realm of science fiction (my favorite fictional genre) and science-fantasy. No more non-fictional, autobiographical stuff after this for a while!

I'm not quite sure where this kind of writing will take me, nor do I know exactly where I want it to take me. I've always had a fascination with poetry, experimental writing, and sci-fi. I suppose I simply want my mind to leave its sacred philosophy nest and spread its wings a little. This is extremely new territory for me and I may break a few Sci-fi / short story rules here and there (I don't really care). So hang on and enjoy the ride.

A Quarter Century Old

The good part is I seem very young to most of my students in Korea. When I tell them I'm 25 (26 Korean age), I get looks of shock, envy, and even contempt. But some tell me that I look older, I act older, and I seem older than what I am.

 

I guess I appear quite enlightened. This is true to some extent... or so I like to think. Yes, it sounds cliche, but philosophy has really opened my mind to the world. I'm not saying I'm a genius, but I would say that my worldview is definitely a mature one that has considered quite a bit for a 25 year-old. In years to come, I will likely laugh at my naivety, but that's not to say that I can't give myself a little credit where its due.

So, I give myself a pat on the back. Here's to many more to come.