Transcendence, Part 3

Photography by Nguyen Thao Ngan

Here we are at last. The end of this little Transcendence trilogy, and therefore, in a way, an end of this self-defining, four-year journey of mine.

Dear readers, thank you for coming all this way. It sounds cheesy and overused as hell, but it really does mean more than me than any of you may realise. Some of you have been here since the very beginning (my first post was a cringe-worthy commentary on the movie New Moon), and I’m honestly stunned by your constancy in a world of variables, to quote a dear friend of mine. Some of you picked up along the way, several maybe only starting to read recently. That’s fine too; you don’t mean any bit less to me. I’ve been doing this for six years now, and there’s no greater joy than to discover that someone is reading and commenting on your latest post; that they can relate or, even better, that it helped them in some way. I’m humbled to have been able to write for you, and entertain/amuse/shock you for a brief part of your day.

I may sound extraordinarily reflective today, and it’s no coincidence: this is my last major contribution to Suburban KID, and quite possibly the last feature post from Suburban KID, ever. There will possibly be a lot of questions arising from that statement, and I promise to answer some of them both in this article, and in a follow-up post after this.

Before that, I’m going to start with a lesson on — stay with me here — economics.

Transcendence, Part 2

Photography by Nguyen Thao Ngan

In part 1, I celebrated the personal resurgence I was blessed to have in Junior College. I recalled how attitude can be the ultimate factor in determining your happiness; in other words, one has the final power to put on a smiling face in the face of difficulty (pun mostly unintended). What this means is that, theoretically speaking, you can always be happy; it gets harder the more difficult your life is, but it is still always possible.

However, I think that most of us understand that we aren’t always strong enough exert that sort of control over our feelings. Sometimes life throws more than what most of us mortals can handle, and we lose it. After all, always possible hardly means always (or even largely) achievable.

The following are stories of some of those times. These are times that are not easy to look back and reflect upon, much less write about. Therefore, I hope that revealing these low points of my life will provide some good to you, dear reader; may they not sadden you, but instead help you see hope where there seems to be none.

Transcendence, Part 1

From the very start, this was a daunting post to write. How exactly do you sum up four years worth of memories, feelings, hardships, trials, reflections and discoveries? Would it really be possible for me to do justice to this one period of time and this one fascinating - and occassionally rather strange - place that has altered my life so drastically?

Some say that Singapore is one of the most mundane places in the world. And you’ll find that I won’t entirely disagree with that; it’s not exactly a very exciting city most of the time. However, I suppose that makes it even stranger that this supposedly boring country has had such a profound impact on not just my life, but (I believe) also the lives of many others.

I don’t know if this series of articles will do justice to the experiences that I’ve been blessed to have, and the people who have shared or created them with me. But I’m going to give it my very damned best. Transcendence is my attempt to catalogue the most important experiences and lessons of the past four years with a focus on the latter two, since Gliding Over All already covered the first half.

And, as with many good reads, this one starts with a story.

Colours

Words by Emerlyn Ng

All I remember of my encounter with the man at the crowded bus stop was a slight jostle- a quick touching of arms as I tried to shove myself past him and push my way into the bus. The air was hot, humid; I was running late for my dental appointment and the ache in my jaw had not subsided. The clouds were a dreary grey- the skies even more so- then again, when had my world not been painted in scales of black and white? A passing glance at the side mirror of the bus reveal two dark orbs floating in pools of white, high cheek bones accentuated by dark grey and a halo of black draped over my neck and shadowing the sides of my face. My face, glistening as beads of sweat run in rivulets due to the glare of the hot sun; ghostly against the backdrop of the blurring, throbbing crowd of ash.

Here's To Being Alive

What a horrible year.

I suppose it's inevitable that in one of the most crucial years (so we're told) in my life, and (again we're told) probably the most stressful, it would really be hard to ask for a decent year. And to be fair, I had warning signs way back from last year, both from observing my seniors and from the literally countless reminders from practically every tutor in the college. So I was able to mentally prepare, somewhat. All of that did not prepare me for what has been, without a doubt, likely the worst year of my short life thus far.

That being said: 2015 Junior College Year 2 students in Singapore, if you are reading this, congratulations! You've survived Term 3, the most dreaded of the four academic terms for every JC2 batch. It is the term that is almost literally workload after workload, revision after revision, time trial after another fucking time trial, exam after exam. The A-level exercise wheel spins and it spins hard, twenty-four-seven, with nary a break in between. Somehow, like soldiers dragging their bloody bodies across enemy lines, we've made it. Yes, there is the small matter of the A-levels inching ever so much closer, and there'll naturally be more cramming in the weeks ahead. But all that can wait for now.

At this point, I would like to celebrate just being alive.

Out Cold

"...Thank you, and goodnight!"

I lowered the mike for the final time as the booming dance music crossfaded in, increasing in volume with an echoing bass. Waving to the audience, some of whom were already preparing to take their leave, I strode offstage towards our right, where the rest of the technical crew were gathered and waiting.

She was there too, and I saw her first. The salmon pink dress and flower headband probably made her even more prominent, but I knew I didn't need those to find her. As our gazes met, she gave me a quiet, tired smile. As she had one of the busiest offstage jobs of the night, I wasn't surprised; in fact, part of me was exhausted too.

Singularity

I look at my my old pair of boots sitting in its little corner. Oh what a wonderful pair of boots, even though I could never tell what color it was.

It’s beige in color.

Yeah, whatever. I used to be blue-yellow color blind, so I just assumed it was some muddy mix of a yellowish-orangey light tan color.

Used to be color blind?

You know what I mean. Anyway, back to my boots. I used to loathe them when I was younger, since I felt like I lost my ability to walk properly with them on, not to mention blisters as well. The fact that I was required to wear them for military-related activities made me hate them even more. That feeling of having stiff material wrapped around my feet is not one I relate to comfort.

But  when I grew older I got used to them and wore them around whenever it was cold out. And now, in the state that I am in, I never thought that I would actually miss the way the boots hugged my feet, holding them tight and never letting go. I have only begun to realize the reassurance they provided, doing their job to protect my feet.

So does he hate the boots or does he like them? Hmph. Humans. So full of contradictions.

If only I could wear my boots again.

Just so you can hate them again?

Yeah.

Fermata

1. Fermata: a pause of unspecified length on a note or rest.

I looked up at the twin towers, gleaming spectacularly against the night sky, the most symbolic sight of my home country. My legs dangled over a small artificial creek as I perched on the railings of a bridge, a futile attempt to distance myself from the throngs of people that filled the vicinity.

8:00pm.

You and I

She was sitting across from me, talking on the phone. She leaned back and giggled uncontrollably. I like it when she does that. Thank you, whoever it is on the other end. Oh, how I love her laugh. Nothing but music to my ears.

“Think about the places we have seen together,”

I hear the familiar tune playing. Instinctively I brace myself.

“Back when it was just you and I.” I sing along with the song in my head, and breathed a gentle sigh.

Companion

Author's note: From now on I have decided to call my fiction series "Oneiric Cognition". It comes with the fancy picture (credits to Siangling) and, hopefully, a new entry every month.

Why do you still keep Jake anyway? It’s not like you need Artificial Intelligence to assist you when you already have Enhanced Cognition.

I pondered the question that my other half fired at me. Yes, it is a little redundant to have a separate AI when I already have one integrated within me. Even though the integrated AI is rather basic, when combined with human intellect, it easily surpasses the limits of both human and machine. 

But we’re talking about Jake here. Sure, you can categorize him as an AI, but he’s more than that. He’s a Companion™. 

What is a Companion™, you ask? Well, let me tell you a story. I hope you like stories.

Breakfast

He was already waiting for me when I descended the hard-light elevator. He somehow always manages to be present whenever he’s needed. If I didn’t know him any better I’d be creeped out by now.

“Good morning, Gio.” he greeted.

“Morning.” I replied.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Not really. But it’s amazing how simulated dreams feel so real.”

“Technology that is indistinguishable from magic, you know that old saying?” he asked cheerfully.

“Yeah. Can’t believe we've gotten this far.”

“So what do you want for breakfast? Shall I warm up the food printer? Or do you just wanna pop one of those food pills?”

I stood silent for a while, pondering my options.

“No Jake, I, uh... I want to cook.”

“You want to cook?” Jake asked, surprised.

“Yes, Jake. Does the induction stove still work?”

“Yes, it does. I’ll start it up now. Do you want me to search for recipes?”

“No need. I remember my mum’s recipes just fine, thanks.”

Jake hesitated for a while. "Why?" He asked finally.

"I just want to feel human, Jake. To savour the taste of the Old Centuries...and prepare a surprise for her."

He fell silent and left me alone to my cooking.

Sweet Dreams

“You look absolutely dashing, sir.”

“My charming French acquaintance brings me nothing but the sharpest suits, dear Jake. And please, stop calling me sir. You’re my wingman, not my servant.” I quipped. “You look handsome yourself.” I said with a grin.

“I feel all wrapped up and uncomfortable.” replied Jake.

“Oh you’re just not used to wearing suits. You’ll get the hang of it. So much classier than jeans and a tee.” I glanced at my watch. 9.30 p.m. “We’d best be off now. Don’t wanna be late!”

“Wait,” said Jake, “Who is it this time?”

“Number 10. She’s a tough one to catch!”

Picture

I trod down the massive hall, my heart racing.

The atmosphere was uncanny that day: a strangely harmonious concoction of chitter-chatter, occasional sobs and group selfies made the occasion undeniably melancholic. It was our graduation day.

Scanning the crowd, I caught myself stealing a quick glance at her. She was her usual self, smiling effortlessly as her cheerful demeanour resonated with her peers while they engaged in high spirited chitter chatter.

All of a sudden, as if she noticed, she glanced in my direction.

Casanova

It was the 22nd of February. The seven of us were just chilling about outside the church, waiting for the Mass to start. When it was almost time, she asked: "Shall we go in now?"

No one responded. They were too busy complaining about camp. I stood forward, offered her my elbow and said, "Come along now, let's go in first."

Stepping Out

On the Malaysian Airlines flight from Ho Chi Minh to Kuala Lumpur, the passenger beside me sported thick rimmed glasses along with a striped t-shirt and beige khaki shorts. Although I had only a quick glance, it was evident the Caucasian man was already past his working years.

A few minutes after boarding had completed, the already familiar yet compulsory safety briefing video interrupted the movie that I was fully engrossed in. Slightly dismayed, I moaned silently.

Eye Contact

"Where are you?"

"I just got out of the workshop," her silvery voice echoed through the phone. "Are you outside?"

"No, I'm on the opposite end of the hallway, by the exhibitions."

"Okay, I'm on my way."

I watched the crowd of students walk past, some clueless, others curious. My eyes lit up as I caught sight of a cute girl of small stature, dressed in a salmon-coloured blouse and dark leggings.

I sneaked up to her. "Hello."

"Oh hey, I didn't see you there."

Now You See It (Reader Contribution)

#shortstories is an ongoing series of articles recounting some of our interesting real life experiences.

Words by Jolene Siew

“It's a locked room murder!”

“How did the suspect escape?”

“The key's right beside the deceased.”

My eyes lit up in excitement as I glued them onto the screen, paying special attention to the crime scene trying my best to source out clues. As usual, the police force is utterly useless and the case can only be cracked by the lead – or in this case (pun unintentional), leads.

The Last Ferry Ride

#shortstories is an ongoing series of articles recounting some of our interesting real life experiences.

A ferry is never silent. At any point of time, there will be the shuffling of footsteps, the exchange of chatter, the sudden screaming of children enjoying the cold sea breeze. Even in the absence of all these, there would still be the monotone chime of the monstrous ship engines, chugging, turning, toiling, bringing the vessel from one jetty to another. That evening, however, all this noise was dead to me.

Slowly, reluctantly, I opened my eyes.

Gliding Over All: Singapore, A Two Year Journey

Words by Terence Wang
Picture editing by Lh Isurgranddad

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times; 
It was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness; 
It was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity; 
It was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness; 
It was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair.

On 21 November, 2013, I departed Singapore for home, closing the first half of the four-year-long chapter that began from the moment I received the fateful email informing me of my successful entry into the ASEAN scholarship. That journey has been fruitful, surprising, heartbreaking, mind-blowing, and life-changing.

This article is a final summary chronicling this two-year journey, and the people that have been part of it.

Falling

#shortstories is an ongoing series of articles recounting some of our interesting real life experiences.

My mind was starting to lose its sanity as I climbed up the gate in front of my house, trying to get out of the house silently. I picked up my worn-out basketball, jumped down from the gate and started to saunter to the nearby basketball court. Basketball has always been a stress reliever, momentarily taking me away into a paradise where every predicament loses its grip on my weary soul. That was just what I needed that evening. Exams were coming up and I had studied scarcely, what's more, there was only little time to spare before facing the big hurdle that was presented before me.